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Fantasy As the World Burns

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The Astellian Camp
Juju Juju​


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Their lovely talks met a cruel end with the snap of a guard. It was quite telling, the way he lumped her in with the "others", but Doi supposed it was only natural. These lost lambs have been without shepherd for who knows how long.

He also mentioned a "red bitch" character. As curious as she was to know more about her, Rishii's reaction was enough of a red flag to save her thoughts.

With great calm, she answered, "My sincerest apologies," and sat in silence.
 
Rodal​

Cryptic bastards, Rodal could only think at the vague and pretentious response of the spirit. From the rubbish it spewed out, one thing did become clear in his mind, a foul blood was connected to something ancient. What that ancient thing was, had to be deciphered through flowery language that needed context to make sense. Leva is ancient, and perhaps she was the reason he was viewed as a foul blood, but he would still check with someone less snotty. However, for now, Rodal simply gave a confused look to the spirit when he was given the explanation and later pointed at, it wasn't too far from what he felt, but it was a lot friendlier.

Han was the next to speak up, explaining how he seemingly died before being brought here and how his killer's must've been the cause for his status as a foul blood. It was a poor attempt at reasoning, which to Rodal only seemed to try to cover his ass more than anything.

Then it happened, the flames left the brazier and formed the figure of an eye, plunging all but the star fallen into agony. The eye seemed to be staring directly into him, something he could guess appeared the case in everyone's own perspective. Rodal however had no time to think further, the environment became irrelevant, only barely able to hear the voices of the others.

That same instinct when he stared at Han washed over him like an avalanche when he stared at the eye. The pain, as damaging as it might be, was meaningless to him. All he could feel was a cataclysm of hatred.

Han cried out for someone to dose the flaming eye.

Shut your mouth worm

Rodal wanted to spit out, but he figured he could use this opportunity to attack the eye instead of trying to defend the spirits.

With a single hand outstretched, Rodal commanded Leva to summon the last weapon he had and without hesitation, Leva obeyed. A bright light flashed for a second and the next a loud thunder echoed through the room even through the chaos. Thunderous Storm had materialized on his hand. The blade itself was like a crystal containing the fury of an entire storm, poetic for how Rodal currently felt.

He could spot Han struggling to hold back all the objects being thrown his way, giving Rodal the twisted idea, to take his sweet time. He had 10 minutes left on the blade, hopefully in the time it took for him to walk to it, Han's life would end through exhaustion.

Rodal took the first step slowly, pretending to fight against the wind. Slowly, he would take the next step, his eyes focused and seething on the flaming eye. However, after enough seeming struggle, he himself couldn't handle delaying it any longer and lunged towards the eye itself, aiming to cut it vertically in half.
 
  • YsFanatic YsFanatic ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe November Witch November Witch Solirus Solirus
    The wounded were among the first to leap into harm's way for the sake of others, something that almost garnered an amused look from the fiery eye. It watched, unflinching, as they used their very bodies as shields for Toko, Haavi and The Spinner. While it was an imperfect shield, especially for the large form of The Spinner, it spared them from the worst of the damage. This too seemed to spark the attention of the eye. It belonged to no face, and yet it somehow seemed to smile at them in delight.

    Autumn, being of poorer constitution, used guile instead. The stones she tossed was enough to draw the flung objects off course, easing the load of both Sarah and Han. Toko was light enough for her to move, though the girl was incapable of doing anything other than whimper in agony, tears streaming down her face. In the depths of pain, she seemed completely oblivious to Autumn’s assistance or even the objects that managed to hit her. It seemed that the majority of the flying objects were centred around the flaming eye, so as Autumn dragged the young priestess away from it, the amount of projectiles aimed at her began to lessen in both number and force.

    For those who chose to hold the eye’s stare despite the pain, they would hear the whispers coalesce, like a choir striking a clear chord of harmonies. It was bouncing and jovial, like purest music. As delicate as it sounded, the notes seared words into one’s mind like white-hot knives.

    "𝔻𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕖?"​

    Rodal was the one to take things beyond merely braving the eye’s gaze. While his comrades rushed to the aid of others, he approached the eye with nothing but the self-indulgent draw of hatred. The eye stared at him as he slowly made his way towards it, blade in hand, yet it did nothing. If anything, it almost seemed… excited. The whispered heightened, almost glowing with the thrums of pain that washed over Rodal’s mind.

    He probably didn’t even notice the screeches that came from the Commander’s Sword as it trembled within its sheath like a pinned moth.

    Thunderous Storm sliced cleanly through the eye without resistance, its crackling edge parting the flaming sphere into two pieces. All at once, the eye collapsed onto itself, shrinking all the fire into an impossibly tiny mote. It was as if a single spark was suspended above the once burning brazier. It floated there for a moment.

    Then it exploded upwards in a pillar of violent, brilliant light,

    The beam blasted through cloth, decoration and even the old stone above it. It vaporized everything in its path, leaving nothing behind but a gaping hole in the ceiling of the temple. After the light faded away, the unfiltered starlight poured into the now dark temple. The winds died down, leaving a stillness behind.

    As peace was restored, the non-summoned began to stir again. Strangely, it was not the spirits that recovered first but Toko. Her eyes focussed again, though her vision was clouded with a new stream of tears.

    “Autumn…” she sobbed, grasping onto the woman like some frightened child. Too weak to stand on her own, she practically collapsed against Autumn for support. Autumn could feel her trembling, her face pale, “It hurts… it hurts…”

    The next to recover was The Spinner, who used its many hands to pull itself back up, the great length of its body coiling in on itself for support as it sat in a crouched posture. It picked up the cloth it had been spinning and slowly, much slower than it had before, continued to spin with its mysterious red thread.

    “What omen is this?” it chattered, a hint of fear in its gravelly voice.

    “Portent.” answered Mist-Mother. One of the spirit’s great horns had been shattered by a large stone, and patches of her flowing hide had been damaged. “Portent of the end. Portent of the Forbidden...”

    The grassy creature crawled along the debris, extending a long skeletal arm to lift the Elder Haavi like she were nothing but a small child. At some point during the chaos, the old woman had fallen unconscious. The majority of the flying debris seemed to have targeted her, and had it not been for Han’s efforts, she probably would have succumbed to the bludgeoning. Her frail form was covered in bruises and patches of blood, but she was still breathing.

    "By the Great Spirit, what has become of this place?" A familiar rattling voice echoed from the entrance of the temple. Elder Ook-so had arrived, flanked by a small hoard of his one-eyed spirits. With him, a few armed warriors had also come to investigate the chaos. They looked around wildly for a threat but found none. Ook-so shuffled in, stepping over broken ornaments and stone. He tilted his head in the direction of Elder Haavi and the wounded, his tone shifting to that of uncharacteristic concern. "Was this an elvish attack. Hmm? Speak quickly."

    There was almost an air of suspicion, considering outsiders had just been welcomed into their home. Thankfully, Mistmother calmed the situation with her airy whispers, "A ritual of seeing gone asunder. Only revealed was a great portent, the stirrings of the forbidden. Too much for the child. Both mind and body must be mended. To this end shall I go and later return..."

    With those words spoken, both Mistmother and Haavi faded into a cloud of mist that quickly dispersed, leaving nothing behind but a coolness and the faint scent of dew.

    Ook-so was left speechless, as were the warriors present. The mere mention of "Forbidden" seemed to be a subject of great distress among them. It was only the feline-like spirits that were unaffected, hopping through the debris to approach the wounded and inspect them with bulbous eyes. They gathered around Sarah, Han, Toko and anyone else who had sustained injuries from the chaos or other events. Each of them made a small 'meeping' sound, staring expectantly up at the wounded.

    "Well, what are you all gawking at? Go on and help clean this place up. And you! Prepare the round chamber for these guests. Enough beds for all star-fallen. I will personally be overseeing their recovery." Elder Ook-So seemed to have recovered from the shock and began to bark more orders to the poor warriors around him, "Cannot be twiddling our thumbs while Haavi is resting. There is much work to do. Nobody sleeps until all is done!"

    He gestured to Han, Sarah and Rodal, "You three! You shall be coming with me now. No objections! Blood and gore means poultices and salves. Especially you, wyvern-bait. If you find yourself too feeble, my spirit friends here will offer help. All others should get some rest. I shall assign a spirit to guide you to the round chamber."

    Before Sarah could move away, by herself or with the aid of a spirit, she felt a large hand on her shoulder. The Spinner was looming above her, holding a bundled of folded cloth bound together by a delicate spider-webbing. "As promised. Garments befitting a friend of Cloud-Home. One who protected The Spinner itself..."
 
Autumn Ichor
Status: Relieved & Concerned.

Only when the whipping winds started to slow and the roaring of the air eased did Autumn turn her head to see what had happened. The eye was gone, but only for the briefest moment before a massive blast took part of the roof off of the ruined temple. Rubble, decorations, dust and debris came crashing down around them, and caused the whole structure to shake and shudder. The fox stopped moving, keeping herself steady and from falling, as well as the one she was desperately attempting to flee with. Though, it seemed that after a few moments of silence, everything was over. Those few moments where everyone held their breath, unsure if there was more, but weary.

Once they had faded, she felt the smaller girl tug at her clothing, burying her face into Autumn and weeping… It made Autumn’s heart hurt to see this girl in such pain. She wondered if the other had gotten hit, or if it was more of the mental anguish they felt when looking at the eye. Nevertheless, Autumn was still going to try and help. She would fall to her knees, and hold the other girl for a few moments, stroking her hair and softly cooing reassuring words to the girl.

“Shhh, it’s okay… I’m here Toko. Just focus on the warm feeling of me right now, and my voice. Just breathe and focus on me…”

Autumn hummed to the other girl. The first order of business was calming the girl. Once that was done, they could move onto checking her for injuries. Something the fox was already doing. Looking at her outfit hoping to not find any spreading red anywhere. When she would stroke the other’s hair, she’d look at her fingers, making sure they would come away with no blood. Once that was well and done, she would spare a glance back towards the others. About halfway between the entrance and the group, there was some distance between them. But it didn’t look as if anyone was injured. Their words soon confirmed that to her.

With a sigh of relief, she turned back to Toko.

“I’m here, don’t worry, just breathe through it, okay? Focus on me.”

Autumn would gently echo her advice to the girl again, hoping to calm her. When the Elder from earlier, Ook-so, if Autumn recalled correctly entered, she would finally look down at herself. Autumn seemed mostly unharmed, with a scratch here or there from a projectile grazing her, but otherwise she was fine. The fox felt no need to join the others. For now, her focus would remain on Toko.

Juju Juju
 
1707626866021.pngZareth | ???
as Gammariah reached towards the bucket of water, anyone with the slightest bit of perception could detect the way his facade tightened. Every muscle in Zareth's body, even his smirk, tightened up as he watched Gammariah work with the liquid. Once Zareth realized that the other was nearly using the water to clean themself, his facade recovered, though if you looked closely, it wasn't hard to see that he was still on edge, watching the other's movements with the water closely. As the other spoke, Zareth more or less snapped out of his stupor, his gaze flicking back up from the water to the other's face again,

"Oh, forgive me, I wasn't aware your people's customs were to slap the other in greeting. Shall I return the favor before I introduce myself?" he asked with a fake innocent tone, raising his hand in offer to the other. However, their banter was soon cut short by light piercing through the sky. Zareth's good eye flinched at the bright light as he took in the world around him as something clicked in his head.

his face of surprise again switched back to his shit-eating grin as he took in the other's reaction. "It seems you have some interesting problems on your hands around here, or did you put on this show for little old me? Though I doubt something of this caliber is within your 'human' abilities." this time, Zareth had the upper hand. Maybe he wasn't about to die just yet, though that was up to his little friend here.
mentions| Juju Juju
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Han Liuyang

The warrior is exhausted, as he allows himself to be shooed along with Elder Ook-so. He idly pets the 'meeping' little spirits as he passes, using his weapon as a staff to help him walk along with shuddering steps. The 'Forbidden'... A Great Eye... Agh. He'd think about it more once he was rested. Today had been such a damn busy day- Even in death he couldn't get any rest, huh? Han follows along with Ook-So's guidance via spirit, heading for this 'round chamber' they spoke of. Hopefully, he would heal quickly, if they'd the magic. Han could feel it in his bones. Some things you just can't forget.

Prophecies and divinities, and falling stars. Empires on the march and a world turning upon its great wheel. One age is struggling in its death-throes, and a new age is fighting to be born.

It is a time of heroes, a time of monsters.

He had no intention of missing even a moment.
 
A harsh glare from Sarah met the eye when it uttered its words into her mind, and when it finally started to break down from Rodal's attack she just muttered a quiet "fuck you," at it. With the threat now gone the swordswoman was able to turn her attention back to everyone else, checking for any causalities and pleased to see that everyone more or less came out ok. There were injuries, sure, but thankfully there were no deaths.

She quietly listened as others spoke until she got signaled out as one of those who needed healing, at which point a small smirk appeared on her face for a moment. "I know better than to argue against a doctor or healer," was her immediate reply before the Spinner got her attention and handed her the outfit. A beaming smile split her face as she examined it briefly. "You got it almost to the same shade of red as my dad's hair! I really appreciate this." With that she'd give the spirit a brief hug of thanks before she stepped back and glanced over at Toko when the girl had mentioned the pain she was still feeling. However it seemed the fox-woman had it well under control, moving in to comfort and help her. Seeing that she didn't really have any way of providing any more help to the girl than what was already being given, Sarah smothered her own motherly instincts and instead turned her attention back to the others as she remembered one last item of interest.

"Before I leave for healing, one of the enemies I fought had swords that contained some kind of entity inside each one. When one of the swords broke, its crystal core fell to the ground and as I didn't know if it was safe to break it I had opted to bring it with me and ask for guidance on how to deal with it..." the old woman trails off as when she had reached into the belt pouch for the crystal her fingers had felt the telltale texture of dirt and rock covering it even through the cloth she had wrapped it in initially. Pulling it out she then carefully set it on the ground. "I think your friend did something to seal it up, so it may be more dangerous than I realized. If you need me to help dispose of this in any way, let me know. Otherwise I'll get out of the way and get my injuries treated."

Juju Juju Solirus Solirus November Witch November Witch ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe
 
Pre-Timeskip
(this will be a time to tie up any loose ends before the summoned retire for the night and we timeskip to the following day. There won't really be a post order, so feel free to make small posts)​
November Witch November Witch
Toko shivered, nodding her head as she followed Autumn's instructions to redirect her attention. She glanced up at the foxwoman with teary eyes, her irises far smaller than they should be. It was as if she was still staring at something immensely bright, but slowly they were returning to normal. She breathed a shaky breath in, and then out. After a few rounds of Autumn's comforting words and the calming breaths, Toko calmed down enough to speak in coherent sentences. Although she had been looking up at Autumn, it seemed that only now was she looking clearly at her. Toko raised a sleeve to wipe the tear stains from her face, dabbing her eyes with the fabric.

"Did you hear it too?" she asked, shuddering from the mere recollection, "It was awful. It kept told me that I was going to die. That everyone here would just... forget. Not even death... I just never existed. Oh, spirits...I want to go home."

Toko hugged Autumn tightly, burying her face into the fox woman's shoulder yet again. Autumn would certainly have no recollection of hearing anything that Toko had mentioned, nor would those who gazed upon the eyes.


YsFanatic YsFanatic Solirus Solirus
The Spinner began to chatter gleefully as Sarah admired its handiwork. This heightened into a surprised little cheep as Sarah went in for an unexpected hug, catching the spirit off guard. It seemed as if the action was unusual, but not unwelcome. After Sarah departed, the spirit gave nothing more than a gracious bow,

"We hope that this gift may serve the Star-fallen well." They muttered beneath their veil.

It then turned its attention to the strange object that Sarah soon placed onto ground. One of The Spinner's lower 'arms' grabbed onto the object and then passed it along to its other hands until it was held up near its veiled face. The spirit turned the unusual thing over in its hands, chittering to itself thoughtfully as it inspected the unusual artifact it had been given.

The moment that Sarah held up the entombed vial, Rodal would hear something whispering to him. Thankfully, it was nothing related to the eye he had just slain. The voice was familiar, and came from the sword slung in a leather sheath. The Commander's Sword was speaking to him after so much silence, its voice so low it was like a ghost.

"That splinter... the thing the old crone stole. You need to obtain it." The voice drew his attention to the earth-encrusted vial that The Spinner was holding, its red contents trapped by a growth of crystals made by a familiar spirit. It continued, "I don't care how you do it, but it is essential for the process of curing your curse. The sooner we have it in our possession, the sooner I can start suppressing the malignance. We cannot afford to let it escape."

"Ah, the woman whose blades can cut into a spirit with ease..." The Spinner voiced, familiar with the opponent whom Sarah described. "We heard that she was slain by the Star-fallen, yet we did not know what became of the sharp-things. We sense the essence of Stalwart Bluff on this... a fading will."

The Spinner toyed with the encasing of stone, attempting to unravel the earthen spell, just as it had done to Sarah's binding. Yet unlike last time, the earth encasing resisted The Spinner's toying, remaining fixed around the object. Tilting their head, The Spinner clicked its unseen teeth, "Hmm... not faded enough. Always stubborn. We can see why Stalwart Bluff has not yet returned to the circle. Even now, it clings to this object."

It regarded Sarah again, shaking its head, "Leave this matter to us. Go now and rest, Star-fallen."

ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe
The strange spirits began to wag their tails happily after Han gave them gentle pats, and they followed after him as he made his way outside the shrine. With little meeps and hops, the spirits guided him to a different section of the shrine, one that was completely dedicated to the healing of the wounded. Inside, Han would pass by rooms filled with injured warriors, most of which seemed to have been freshly taken from the battlefield. A fair portion of them were in similar conditions to Han, covered in burns from one of the wyverns. Unlike Han, they were bedridden and covered in gauze. The air was heavy with incense, the bite of pungent salves, and the groans of the infirm.

More of the one-eyed spirits fluttered about, along with healers dressed in ritualistic garb similar to Ook-So himself. They glanced at him through their veils, flashing eyes of surprise and concern, but seemed afraid to say much to him. Led by the spirits, Han would be taken down a gentle, spiralling slope in the ancient architecture. This would eventually open up into a wide, circular chamber beneath the upper quarters.

The walls were covered in faded mosaics. Most of the tiles had long been chipped away over the unknown ages, but one section was mostly unscathed. In dull gold and white, it depicted a grand city, shining with rays of light. Hollow lines stretched out in the pale blue sky, hinting that at one point the mosaic had been embellished with something precious. Perhaps gold? As for the rest of the chamber, its original purpose was obscured by the current inhabitant. Beds of cushions and woven blankets had been laid out across the chamber, simple yet comfortable. Along the walls hung more incense burners and silken cloth, and at one side of the chamber sat an enormous mortar and pestle, so big that there was a small stool beside it. The beastly tool was surrounded by so many pots and baskets filled with herbs and other ingredients that it formed a small mountain around it.

There were no windows to the subterranean chamber, but the chamber was lit well enough with oil lamps and a bundle of blue, faintly glowing gems tied to the ceiling in some sort of twine netting. Perhaps it was not the most elaborate sleeping arrangement, but it seemed comfortable enough for someone so tired.

As soon as Han and his guides arrived, the spirits began to hop over to the hoard of herbs and began to paw at little jars and carry herbs into the giant mortar and pestle.
 
Han LIuyang
Han continues down as he follows the spirits into the depths. He passes by the warriors- mortal they were, and lesser. They couldn't sustain the flames as he did and simply 'walk'. But then, the courage to face wyvern-fire alone was impressive enough. The healers look at Han as he descends, no doubt surprised to see a man so burned walk with such poise, as though he was a King going for a stroll in his very own palace. Even burned, even tired, Han descends the slope into the chamber with all of his dignity.

Once there, he would eventually find one of the beds and sit upon it, taking a place in the room across from the mosaic of the city. Han's eyes trace over it, wondering if he could match it to the city above them- whether he could see the city through this mosaic as it had once been, before an ancient civilization fell and was replaced by its heirs. Eventually, fatigue forces him to lie down, even as he looks at the mosaic, and sleep begins to pull at his mind...
 
Rodal​

Once the eye had been destroyed, a feeling of relief washed over Rodal, only a small residue of hatred remain, signifying that they would return soon. With blade yet in hand, he saw Ook-so approach him, essentially ordering him to accompany, however, as he began to follow the elder, he could hear the blade's voice, speak up. This blade was proving to be incompetent, only now spotting and mentioning the usefulness of the crystal when it had fallen into the Spinners hand.

Excusing himself, Rodal approached the Spinner, Thunderous Storm fizzling out from existence. "Excuse me... mind if I can take that rock later? I've been cursed by one of those nasty things in the swords and back in my home, the best way to lift a curse like that was from the source itself, kinda like a poison or venom." Rodal explained, emphasizing some quantity of worry, confidence, and honesty. "Though I can wait for a bit, curse doesn't seem to have taken much of an effect yet, but I think it best for us all if I get it checked up soon."
 
Autumn Ichor
Status: Guilty, unsure & cold.

Autumn kept a hold of Toko for as long as the other would cling to her. She was relieved to see the other gradually calm down and come to her senses. It was difficult to see the small girl in such a state. It hurt Autumn’s heart to see such a thing. While she held Toko in order to comfort the other, it also had the effect of warming the shivering Autumn. She was back to being pretty cold, after all with the whipping winds the eye conjured, and Autumn’s clothing still being soaked, it had ripped what little warmth she had regained from her. Toko would likely be able to notice, now that she was calming down. Autumn’s fingers and toes were numb at this point. But it was something she would worry about after Toko was calmed and cared for. After all, the guilt would gnaw at her if she didn’t now do everything she could for any and everyone around her.

Autumn hadn’t heard what Toko had claimed she heard. But it didn’t surprise Autumn. She’d only heard a chorus of disembodied whispers for the few moments that eye was active. She hadn’t been able to make out any words specifically. But it wouldn’t surprise Autumn if Toko had.

“No, I didn’t. I heard so many voices I couldn’t make out what they were saying. But it was really frightening.”

Autumn admitted.

“It’s alright though, you’re okay and nothing bad happened to you, right? You’re not hurt?”

Autumn asked, wanting to make sure Toko was uninjured. But as Toko buried her face in Autumn’s shoulder, she would place a gentle hand on her head and run her fingers through her hair. It was something that always calmed Autumn in the past. She had fond memories of her own mother doing something similar to calm Autumn, or even to help her sleep. Running her fingers or a brush, slowly, gently, through her hair. The fox could only hope it was having the same effect on Toko.

She almost felt guilty about her upcoming departure. She wouldn’t want to hurt Toko, or not be there to help if something else happened. But Autumn knew she needed both sides to make an educated decision, if one was to be made at all. She was still unsure if meddling in another world’s affairs and politics was her job, or if she, as one person, could even affect anything. Autumn was still unsure about what to do…

But whenever she did leave this place, she knew where her first stop would be…

Juju Juju
 
Solirus Solirus
The Spinner peered down, curiosity in its rumbling voice, “Is this so? A curse placed upon a child of curses? We would think it to be impossible.”

Lowering their insectoid body, the spirit glanced over Rodal, as if to see through his intentions or any would-be lies. “Yes… we do sense something now that one has called it into question. It is of the same fabric as the presence clawing against the binding of our kin’s trap. A curse indeed.”

They held up the vial encased in earth, rotating it in their hand with an inquisitive eye. Slowly, their veiled face swept between Rodal and the cursed object they now held. “We intended to split the earthen shell and destroy the wretched thing within. Nothing of it shall remain once we have finished. This being said…”

The Spinner let out a meandering breath, a hum of chittering mandibles. They were considering something.

“We have seen the Foul-blood strike that burning eye and rend it cleanly in two. Perhaps the swiftest route of destruction would be at the mercy of one’s blade. We sense the lingering shade of Stalwart Bluff on the Foulblood. Perhaps their blessing shall yield more readily…” Leaning down, The Spinner passed the entombed shard to Rodal, “After one has had their fill, we trust it shall be dealt with as swiftly as the eye.”


November Witch November Witch
“I’m fine. Just a few scrapes, I think.” Toko responded to Autumn’s worries, lifting her head from her shoulder, “I… I feel a lot better now, though.”

Indeed, Autumn would see that thanks to her efforts and the actions of Han, Toko had received minimal damage from the chaos. Even her eyes were sharpened, free of the hazy look that had overtaken them in the aftermath of the supernatural attack.

Toko seemed to have calmed down, comforted by the gentle fingers running through her hair. It had put her at ease, just as Autumn once would have in the days of her childhood. The two remained like this for a time, until all fear and unrest had melted from Toko. Her tears had dried up, and she looked more relaxed than Autumn had ever seen her.

“Thank you, Autumn. You, um, you remind me of my older sister. I think she would have really liked you.” Toko said with a soft smile. She gave Autumn one last hug before standing up on her own, arms wrapped a little around herself.

“You’re staying here tonight, right? With the others? I-I can help you to where you’ll be staying, if you want.” She offered, clasping her hands together, “It’s only fair, considering all the worry I caused you. You must be exhausted, too.”
 
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collab with jmann jmann and Juju Juju ​

  • Gammariah grabbed Zareth by the jaw and straightened his face towards himself to stop him from looking around too much. Gammariah locked eyes with the prisoner.
    “Answers. Now. If you play along, maybe I'll return the favour. What is your relationship with the Astellian Dynasty?”

    Zareth lets out a small noise of surprise as he is manhandled, nearly falling off balance at the sudden grab, one of his arms instinctively grabbing onto Gammariah’s shoulder to stop his fall and balance himself. He briefly tries to move free of the other’s grasp but finds it too difficult and painful to bother with, so he simply gives up.

    “you know, Mr. ‘Leading Light,’ all this manhandling and then sweet words are counterproductive. So why don’t you lay it to me straight? We both are smart men here, or well ‘smart enough,’” he adds a slight smirk at the others ‘lack’ of intelligence, “we can both assume an elven scholar’s ties to the Dynasty. In fact, based on this aggressive behavior I think you already had your answer, so why don’t you tell me what you really want? What's your relationship with the good old Daddy Dynasty?”

    Gammariah dropped Zareth’s jaw and delivered a sharp punch to his gut. The elf’s banter was quickly becoming infuriating. He had hoped he could be redeemed and permitted to join the rebellion, but no agent of the dynasty could be allowed to live. Especially one who had seen their temple so closely. The army would be back soon and their numbers a thousandfold.

    “I am the Breaker of the Blue Star of Astell, enemy of the Dynasty. I hope, for your sake, you know who I am, because you would know my compassion and mercy is thin. I am going to give you another chance. Know, elf, this chance is your last.”

    as the punch landed on Zareth’s stomach, he quickly doubled over, gasping violently as he tried to regain the air that was shoved out of him. Gripping his stomach tenderly, with a weak glare, he looked back up at Gammariah, “Wait, the Blue Star?” Zareth stood up straight with an obvious wince as he tried to steady his breathing quickly, “I have no idea who you are, nor do I really care, but you’re telling me the Blue Star was destroyed?”

    For the first time during the whole ordeal, Zareth’s face displayed actual grief as he mourned the loss of knowledge. He can remember what it looked like before it was destroyed; his mother had taken him there. How many tomes were lost that were never copied anywhere else? How much history will be forgotten, lives only recorded on paper now truly dead.

    “When did this happen? Why did this happen? What year did you do all this? Long after my time that is sure, but you are a human? Your life is short and useless, so either this just happened, or you are in the exact same boat I am…”

    Gammariah leant back slightly. The elf’s guard had faded at the mention of the Blue Star. It was Gammariah’s crowning achievement to destroy the elvish propaganda mill, but in the moments of his death he wished he had done more for his family. A new life without his loved ones meant a chance to devote yet more effort against the Dynasty.
    “It was nothing you elves didn’t start first. Tyranny, colonisation, the massacre of innocent people. What you called progress would have our way of life hunted to extinction,” the very thought made Gammariah’s blood boil, “But if you never knew the Blue Star was shattered upon the stones laid by bloodied hands, you must be from longer ago than I am. So I ask you again, what is your relationship with the Dynasty?”

    Zareth shook his head, annoyance filtering through his system, “the same as every damn elf has with the thing. Born and raised within it. I don’t know what else you want me to say on that. What's more important is the Blue Star; what year did it fall? I need to know when the scholars took such a blow.”

    “Eleven ninety-three by Dynasty calendar. I don't know why you'd mourn a monument to lies and injustice.”
    Gammariah stood and moved the water bucket aside. He drew one of the swords from its scabbard, still covered in blood.

    “I don’t care about the damned building, I care about the knowledge. Stories, lives, all that will fade into nothing. Words that will never be repeated again, reduced to nothing as the result of war. Not even a tome is safe from man’s folly.” Zareth sagged at the info. There is not a thing he could truly do about what was lost.

    Zareth eyed the scabbard with unease as he continued, “so Mr. Leading Light, what happens now?”

    Gammariah barely listened. He, too, cared for stories, of course he did. But the elvish stories were lies told to scare people into submission. They were not true stories of art and generations of tales. He sighed. “In my heart elf, I wish you knew the truth. Perhaps then there would be someone to mourn you.” Gammariah hesitated slightly, and then pressed the blade through Zareth’s chest.

    Zareth was far too slow for the movements of even the injured warrior, moving back only to hit the rock he was standing in front of. Soon as his back connected hard with the rock the blade went through his chest. Blood quickly rushed out of the wounds, filling up his lungs rapidly as he coughed it out, as he glared up at the other. It seems the most he could do to the other was glare.

    “I have to say, Mr. Leading Light,” he rasped out, trying desperately to beat the rapid decline of his body, “you’d make an excellent elf, so willing to snuff out the lives of who you deem lesser than you. Maybe I can put a good word for you next time I’m home…” he laughed out. Though it was a sad excuse of a laugh as it quickly led to him hacking on more blood. The world around him was fading quicker than he had hoped, though there was little he could do. Who would have thought he’d end up dying twice in his time on this world? A feat that no other mage could claim. In his final moments, he took pride in that.

    Gammariah’s face soured, disgust betraying his stoic facade. He wrenched the sword free from Zareth’s ribs, blood trailing along the ground. Gammariah was not an elf. He was nothing like them and how dare someone say that. He fought and died and fought again for the notion of an ideal this creature could not begin to fathom. Gammariah’s leg shot out before he knew what he was doing and sent a stern kick towards Zareth’s head.

    Gammariah dropped to his knees, breathing heavy; all of his energy spent. He sat there across from the bleeding elf, staring at the blood in the dirt. In weakness he found clarity. The words he had wished to say but had not the clarity or emotional wherewithal to find them.
    “None of us are lesser… If not for the abuse of your creed, none of us would be here.”

    As the soil drank in Zareth’s blood, Gammariah would begin to hear a faint whispering. It grew steadily in volume as a pain latched into his skull, reverberating with the words that seemed to encompass all senses.

    "𝙽𝚘. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚝..."

    Thick, black chains erupted from the ground, binding Gammariah where he knelt. The iron links pierced him, yet left no gore or marks, as if his flesh, or perhaps the chains, were not fully corporal. The pain, however, was real enough. Gamma could feel it burning into his very core, his very spirit. Pulling... something from him. He could not move or speak. He could hardly breathe.

    Through tired, bleary eyes Gammariah could see a cluster of similar chains latch onto the still-warm corpse of Zareth, hoisting him up off the ground. One lashed out, connected the two of them. The metal ran red, emanating a deep, crimson light. The pain in Gammariah’s chest crescendoed, and for a moment he could once again feel the chill of death. He could realize that it was the unkindled lifeforce of the man before him. The excruciating pain in his chest was none other than Zareth’s final moments.

    The sensation began to ebb and the pooling blood shrank back as the slaughter practically reversed in front of Gammariah’s eyes. Blood returned to its host, warmth returned to flesh, and light returned to eyes.

    Like snuffed sparks, the chains vanished. Zareth was whole once again.

    Gasping breaths tore through Zareth’s chest, harsher than the blade had been, and every sense came rushing back to him again. He shook like a leaf as his reignited brain tried to catch up with information again as one of his hands unknowingly began to probe at the area where the sword had pierced.

    Not a piece of fabric had been damaged; not a single drop of blood remained spilled. Without uttering a word, his eyes fell towards Gammariah; if the other’s eyes were open, the two pairs would no doubt meet. Zareth remained silent momentarily, taking in the way the other was fairing no better than him, but he knew it was not out of guilt.

    “Looks like I won't be leaving you anytime soon, Mr. Leading Light.” he offered the other an attempt at a smirk but all that came was a weak and weary tilt of his lips. He wondered if he would be met with another blade through the chest, how could years of hate cope with inability? He only hoped it would be with less violence this time.

    Gammariah did not have the strength to stand, even if every muscle in his body demanded it. Whatever had brought them both back demanded they live together, their very life force bound together. What a cruel joke.

    Gammariah summoned the strength to unclench his fist and drop the blade at his side. Somehow, despite all that had happened, the elf smiled. It refused to be defeated. Gammariah could have respected it in another life, perhaps if it did not come from a line of conquerors and colonists, he could respect it in this one. But that was not the reality so he didn’t waste time on the fantasy. If the elf could not die, there were still other ways to be of use.
    Gammariah tried to summon what little strength he had left to stand in defiance of the elf but he fell forward onto his hands.
    “You’ll work. Or you’ll be thrown to the wolves. Maybe reparations can be pulled from you yet.”

    Zareth raised an eyebrow at the other’s words, “Is the Mr. Leading Light asking for my help?” he asked with a slight laugh before he realized the other was not joking. He awkwardly cleared his throat as he shuffled into a more upright position, observing the other.

    “I…” Gammariah sighed. Exhaustion had sapped his ability to be mad. Anger at the world bubbled within, but without the energy, it would never surface. Spite had given way to helplessness. His skin still burned from the creature’s attack, and his legs fared no better. He pushed himself up and sat on his feet, all his strength put into staying upright.
    “Yes,” the words felt like bile in his mouth, ”please.”

    Zareth’s face lost any sort of facade as shock overtook his features. Sure, he had made the joke, but he had never thought the other would admit it, let alone say please. If this were any other person Zareth might have been fooled into thinking that they saw him as an equal, even just in this moment. But Zareth knew better. Today would not be the day that he stopped being judged for the way he was born.

    Zareth let the shock fade from his face as he let out a sigh, standing back up on shaky feet. His condition from lack of mana and his soul being violently shoved back into his body was far from great, but it was clear to see that between the two, he was the one in better condition.

    Zareth thought for a moment before he shuffled over to the other’s side, kneeling down and reaching for the other’s sword before hesitating and adding, “Uh, I’m going to put you’re sword in its sheath, not going to stab you. We both can see that wouldn’t work out very well…”

    Taking in a deep breath, he grasped the sword, awkwardly holding it as he then proceeded to sheath it, or well try. It took him a few tries, his face burning a deep red that reached the tips of his ears. Thankfully, after a few awkward moments, he managed.

    With the obvious thing out of the way, Zareth looked Gammariah up a few times, trying to figure out how to help him without making things worse. Thankfully, at this moment, he was reminded of a grounding constant: his failure as an elf and a mage. It made him want to laugh a little; the second time within a day, he could have used healing magic. A spell that, even if unpracticed, any other elven mage could attempt. He was not any other elven mage, so instead, he gritted his teeth and helped the other to his feet, allowing him to lean as much weight on Zareth as he could muster without falling over.

    Gammariah’s legs shook violently as he stood, as if they would buckle any minute. He clutched the soft fabric of Zareth’s shoulder to push himself up. He hated to admit it, but the elf was the only reason he could stand, let alone walk.

    He looked back at the settlement they were near and pursed his lips, “does this place… allow ‘your kind’ in?” he asked, glancing nervously at the walls. He almost wished that they didn’t because he knew he would most likely not be welcomed. He missed the library, the smell of the books. He missed the academy. He missed his home. God, he wishes that were true. It made him want to cry, the way he was this deep in ‘enemy’ territory, and he felt no different than when he walked in the halls of his home. The way the pressure of the other man stung the symbols carved into his flesh made him want to scream; this whole thing did. The way his muscles ached from the strain, the way every part of him ached. It was all too much. But instead, Zareth glanced at the other as he waited for the answer, swallowing back the biting urge to lay down and give up. If he kept going, he kept trying; there would someday be somewhere in a dark corner of this world where he could be more than his birth.

    Gammariah took a single shaky step forward, prompting the elf forward and almost caving if not for Zareth’s support, limited as it were by his smaller frame.
    “They’ll have to,” Gammariah spat blood in front of them, “Look at us, what choice do they have?”

    A wiser man might have mistaken that for a joke. Something about Zareth’s break in demeanor made him want to bring it back. Make him feel safe. He banished the thought. It was treason of the highest order to help an elf, that’s why this was different. He would never help the elf; he was using it for a further goal to destroy the Dynasty and reclaim his homeland.
    “Come.”

    Zareth offered a wordless nod to the other, not sure what else to say that wouldn’t be laced with his anxiety. The two continued their hobble towards the door; the other would be taken at the very least. He doubted this was an elven settlement, but the prejudice of other societies was not something he was educated in. He hoped whatever prison cell they threw him in had at least a blanket. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t be awakened with a slap. Or maybe he would get stabbed again. Oh, what fun.

    He saw two guards stationed at the gate, along with a grassy spirit that looked similar to a rabbit. One of the guards raised their spear upon seeing the elf, then paused. They noticed Gammariah, a flicker of recognition crossing their scarred face.

    “It’s one of the Star-fallen. Slayer of the light-witch…” they mentioned to the other guard, lowering their weapon. Once again, they glanced at Zareth, a confused yet also familiar look crossing their face.

    “Is that the elf-kin the girl mentioned? The one who slayed a dragon single-handedly and sworn enemy of the elf… present. Presid-ent?” they uttered, almost not believing it as they glanced over the scrawny, twice-slain elf.

    The other guard raised a brow, “That him? The ‘greatest mage to have ever lived’? Looks a bit scrawny.”

    Zareth visibly flinched at the title, his body tensing up on instinct. Something flashed across his face but was quickly smothered down as his mouth was drawn in a thin line. He did not offer a comment on it, but being close enough, Gammariah could practically smell his displeasure.

    “All elf-kin do… and she did say he would be with a half-naked man.” The other whispered before slamming the brunt of their spear onto the ground, “Halt, you two. All wounded star-fallen are to be sent to Elder Ook-So. You are honoured guests of Cloud-Home. Please, use one of the carts. We shall assist you.”

    The two guards, still looking suspicious of the odd couple, left their posts to help Zareth and Gammariah. Seeing how frail the elf was, they quite literally took Gammariah off his hands and with much more ease, brought the wounded man to a repurposed vegetable cart led by a bovine beast. There was no driver of the cart, yet as soon as the two were loaded onto it, the beast began its slow ascent up towards the shrine. The two guards watched Zareth, eyes narrowed, but said nothing further on the matter.

    Gammariah stiffened upon being taken off of Zareth’s shoulder, but he could not argue against sitting down. All the weight off his feet was like a blessing from the saints. He nodded in respect to the soldiers, they showed more respect than he expected. Were it the Adriae rebellion, an arrow would have sundered the elf before they were a hundred metres from any cart or beast.
    “We thank you for your hospitality,” Gammariah coughed, “we would be honoured to meet your Elder.”

    As Zareth awkwardly sat in the cart, he pushed himself against the wooden sides, almost painfully, the pressure bringing him some sort of comfort; it also served to make him somewhat smaller. Zareth did not say anything, but every few moments would glance at the other with only a tiny bit of worry etched in his face. Each time he looked, he was worried the other’s condition would worsen or he’d pass away somehow. And then Zareth would be left with a dead body and no way to explain how it happened.

    It was also at this moment that Zareth realized he had been robbed. An elven curse fell from his lips as he noticed he had no staff or book on him. Zareth’s head fell in defeat; he only hoped that he would meet the robber again soon, his memory dancing back to the last person who had it. Also, the person who sold him out, delightful. He would be even more useless than normal without it, but there was little he could do now.

    Gammariah glanced across the cart at Zareth and met his worried look. When he wasn’t talking seemed to be the only time the elf was honest. His eyes betrayed any words he could have said. Perhaps saying nothing at all was a problem as well. Even if the elf was older than the rebellion, he was still the only one to know what Gammariah had experienced. Maybe, like Zareth, he had come back long after he had died. Maybe there was no Adriae rebellion. Clearly they hadn’t been successful. Or maybe they were far away from their homeland, fighting the last remnants of the Dynasty. It was wishful thinking, but it was wishful times.
 
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  • Rest, in Peace YsFanatic YsFanatic ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe Solirus Solirus seasonedcat seasonedcat jmann jmann AriAriAbabwa AriAriAbabwa November Witch November Witch
    The night deepened into the hazy hours before dawn, the sky a mix of twinkling stars in swathes of milky blues and violets. After the absolute chaos they had endured, both before and after their unceremonious reawakening, it was time for the fallen stars to rest.

    From the darkest dungeons of the Astellian camp, to the makeshift beds of Cloud-Home, sleep would befall them...eventually. It provided them all a moment’s respite from their current worries and pains. Maybe they dreamed, taunted by sweet visions of home or other shades of idealism. Perhaps it was nightmares that took them, or nothing but blank and silent rest.


    Firelie Firelie YsFanatic YsFanatic jmann jmann AriAriAbabwa AriAriAbabwa seasonedcat seasonedcat
    Far away, in another life or another world, a fate came to its timely conclusion. Some would struggle, some would make peace, and some would draw their last breath in regret or rage. Yet in the same way as the sun must bow before night’s turn, in the end, they all were claimed by the same call of oblivion. Utterly powerless before the blade of circumstance.

    Just as the sleeper is lured away into the realm of sleep, so too would the sparks of their consciousness fade and fizzle until there was nothing but blissful silence. Free of all pain and every worry. There could be peace in this, at least.
 
Before sleepy time

Sarah frowned as she caught snippets of the conversation about curses. While she had some personal experience with them, she was far from an expert on dealing with them. As much as it annoyed her, she would most likely be unable to help the afflicted man. With a weary sigh she decided to leave it to the Spinner to try to figure something out and instead made her way to the area they were bidden to go for rest and healing.

Now

Her eyes unexpectedly snapping open, her body and mind feeling wide awake, Sarah couldn't help but growl in irritation. "Can't even get one bit of un-interrupted sleep, is that how this whole adventure going to go?" Annoyed, she looked around the desolate area for some sign of what the hell was supposed to happen, but thankfully she didn't have to wait long before one of the stars crashed into the 'ground' nearby. The woman frowned as she examined the fallen orb and the watery crater, her expression slowly morphing into one of anger and then rage as she felt was being offered by each. This whole thing reeked of entities trying to manipulate her, get their hooks into her somehow, and the swordswoman wasn't going to have anything to do with that. "Fuck the two of you," she snarls. "If I was supposed to have power for this trip then my abilities wouldn't have been fucked with. And inner restraint to 'master the self'? Did enough of that already, too late in my life to worry about doing more. Being recruited to help deal with some problem or another is one thing, but this shit?" The veteran warrior's eyes narrow dangerously as she struggled to keep her fury in check. "I don't do these kinds of games so you can just fuck off."

Cutting herself off from launching into an anger-fueled tirade, something she had done before in her younger years, Sarah instead spun on her heel and stalked off into the darkness. If this ended up biting her in the ass later, well, she'd just accept the consequences of her actions then.
 
Scene Music

"Thank you, for everything. The time we shared together... it was like memories of pure light."

Those words as well as the fact that she was gazing upon Lucille's red eyes for the first time turned that moment into the closest thing to perfection that Valleni had ever experienced. Not even the fact that they were both dying from a plague or the fact that the other woman's curse was starting eat away at her could tarnish this moment. She wanted it to last forever. Alas it was not to be as only moments later all life left Lucille's body, and the lightning mage felt a piece of herself die at the same time. Crying as she held the body of her beloved, Valleni finally gave up the struggle to live and let the illness in her body consume the last of her strength and end her life. It was of some solace to her that the two of them shared the same fate in a place only they knew, a secret clearing where they would frequently gaze upon the stars.

But even that was taken away. Finding herself awake and seemingly alive again was incredibly jarring and Valleni started to hyper-ventilate as she urgently scanned the darkness. "Lucille? Where are you Lucille? Please answer me!" The complete lack of response in addition to not seeing her most important person anywhere felt like the ultimate cruelty to the dark haired woman as despair seized a hold of her. A scream of pain and grief ripped its way out of her throat as she fell to her knees, arcs of blue-white and purple lightning arcing off her body towards not only the watery surface, but also the sky itself as her magic started to run rampant with such fury that one could mistake her as being the core of some kind of natural disaster. So consumed by her emotions, Valleni did not even notice the star falling or the crater it left, but the electricity surging from her body would attempt to ravage and burn them just like the rest of the area around her.

How long she knelt there, screaming and crying, the lightning savant had no idea. But eventually the lightning would lessen, but not cease, as Valleni became emotionally spent and slowly raised her eyes, seeing the orb and crater for the first time. As she felt the emotions being projected and what was being offered by each, well, there was only one choice to make. Power would let her find whoever or whatever did this to her, put her in this hell, and power would let her destroy them. Standing up was slow, difficult, as the mage was feeling a type of emotional exhaustion she had never experienced before. But she would make her way to the fallen star and place a hand on it with the intent of accepting what it was offering.
 
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In Dreams...
Juju Juju​


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God has chosen to speak with her. The almighty presence willed her into a dream of darkness and light. Starry surroundings that explained to Doi why the Astellans gave Her the moniker of "the Guiding Star". The last time she met Her presence, Doi was at her lowest low. When despair clouded her mind, and all hope seemed lost. She knew what this meant for her: she was treading the right path. With her help, the Astellans could shape their faith into something great. The violent heretics that dared to attack Doi and forced her to spare Aaron of suffering would see the light.

Doi uttered a dozen prayers to the higher being that brought her here. A prayer that continued even after the falling star that crashed into the water. This was the Guiding Star's will, and everything that happened here had meaning.

When finished, she headed to the two objects within her reach. Both emit a presence so powerful that Doi faltered as she neared. The fallen star reminded her of the bliss she worked to achieve; the power within each individual to rebel against their oppressors and embrace faith. But the growing pool of black put voices into her head; screams and cries of those who would not dare to understand. People who turned their backs to people like Doi, denouncing her and her faith as monsters.

Doi reached for the crashed star.
 
At the Crossroads, Three Gods​

Han Liuyang
In the bowels of sleep, in the depths of dream, the world twists around the slumbering King. He was aware of it, as a sailor can feel the ocean's waves beneath their ship. In the long course of centuries, Han had become well-acquainted with it. Even Gods dreamed, but the forces that shape such visions were stranger and deeper still than mere divinity could encompass. And so Han, for a time, drifts on that invisible wind- before he finds himself upon the endless black expanse. Above him, stars emerge- and he can feel it. Here in this world, in this realm, Han is not merely his limited mortal flesh. The thing reflected in the water is not merely Han as he is, but also as he was- the blazing form of the Dawn Emperor, golden-crowned, flame-born, is silhouetted in the black reflection of the pool. A ghost, an echo, of what he was was, of how he once burned, that was gone as quickly as it came.

And there is more. Han Liuyang had lived through the long ages of the world. He had been many things in many ages. The self he sees in the reflection of the black water is all of those things. There, the Blade-bearing, Joyous Warrior who slew the Wolf Relentless. There, the Proud, Magnificent King who had reigned over an age of glory. There, the Mad, Daring Sage who had lit his world's way into beginning to claim the outer Planes of their Crystal Sphere. And more. Lover and poet, vigorous athlete and debauched patron of the arts.

The Star falls to the pool, leaving a crack in the great black mirror that was this world. A shooting star. Han looks upon the fallen star, that brilliant crystal, and then he looks upon the black crater and its bubbling waters. And Han laughs, because he recognizes them for what they are. What exists behind the veil. It was a mystery laid bare to the eyes of one who had sat a throne of Faith and Solar Flame.

Gods. They presented themselves in forms esoteric, in allegory and metaphor- ever the favorite of the divine. Opposed ideals- Eternity and Mortality, Infinity and Limitation. Star and Sea. Is, and Is not. A divine duality.

"Ah, I imagine that you butt heads over me, hm? Me and my soul. I pity you, truly, o' Black Sea. You define, you demarcate, you give shape to the shapeless. Your promise is that I might master myself. But I am already my own master. I have always and only ever had one nature. O' Void, this road is one I have already walked before."

Han chuckles as he turns away from the crater, leaving it behind as he approaches the fallen star and goes down to a knee before it.

"I remember what it is to be the Sun. The Dawn, The Glory, The Grail, The Forge. Listen well, o' Star! For our self-of-selves, our Oversoul, the foundations of our Divinity- They are Kin. I was the boundless sunlight that stretches beyond the horizon. I was every day that seems so brighter than the last. I was the promise that all nights- ALL nights must end. I am Han Liuyang, and once, o' Star, I was the bearer of the word DAWN."

He reaches down to grasp the star, grinning. For others, this was a dazzling path forward into potentiality- But for Han, this was an old and familiar road, one he'd trod before, one he was now to trod again. A road he'd so enjoyed the first go-around. It was like returning home.

"And perhaps I will be so again. I choose to step back into my mantle. This world seems so in sore need of it."
 

  • Curses​

    Collab with: Juju Juju ​

    Rodal awoke from bed, having guessed how long it’d have taken for the rest to have fallen asleep. He couldn’t do what he wished in a communal area, thus calmly and carefully, he left the area. Having walked through these hallways, Rodal had a mental map of the place and moved to somewhere far more private, and far enough away from the communal area so they wouldn’t be awakened by what’d happen next.

    Holding the vial in his hand, Rodal inspected it carefully, “What happens now” Rodal spoke to the sheathed blade.

    “What happens next is you unsheathe me. I can’t do anything in this stinking leather thing.” the sword spoke.

    Without hesitation, Rodal grabbed the sheath, flipping it upside down so the sword would fall on its own. He had hardly rotated the thing before the sword floated out on its own, as if it hadn’t needed assistance in the first place. I was merely following the conditions of their contract. The sword floated in front of Rodal, suspended by an unseen force. He hears it speak once more.

    “So, care to crack this thing open? Go on then. The centipede said that you could slice it up like that infernal thing that appeared.” the sword said, a smile in its voice, “I must say, excellent work by the way. I would very much like to witness it again…”

    “I can’t, I don’t have a reliable weapon to crack it open” Rodal explained, placing the sheath back to his waist.

    “Oh? Is that so?” the sword chuckled harshly, its tone patronizing, “Dear me, how often I forget the fragility of your kind. Well, if you cannot muster up an attack of your own, at least be a darling and hold the thing for me. I’d like to test that insect’s theory out…”

    “Explain what will happen in detail” Rodal requested, his tone serious, keeping the vial behind his back.

    “What’s the matter?” The voice teased in an oh-so playful manner, “Don’t trust me? I said I would help you, didn’t I?”

    Rodal would get the distinct impression that the sword took pleasure in the fact that it knew more than Rodal, purposefully leaving things as vague as possible or dodging questions.

    “Return to the sheath, we’ll do this tomorrow properly” Rodal explained, extending the sheath, it was clear he had no tolerance from such behaviour.

    “Gods, you’re so boring.”     The sword whined with a disembodied groan of disgust, “No begging, not even a drop of dread? You’d swear the concept of death or madness doesn’t even bother you. Alas, you have no appetite for a bit of fun… perhaps if you too were a sword, you’d place a little value on harmless teasing.”

    If the sword had eyes, it would surely have rolled them by now. Their voice pouted for them as they continued, “Very well, since you are less entertaining than a rock, I shall indulge in your thirst for plainness. That cow spirit… it fought with you, yes? Perhaps you holding onto the shard will let its guard down and make my life a little easier. Not that it would be much of a problem. I’ve no problem in slaughtering livestock twice, if need be.”

    “If we waited I could recover my consistent weapons, no need to go to the trouble of exerting yourself” Rodal responded, seeing if he could gain more information.

    The suave nature of the sword’s words chipped for but a moment as Rodal suggested they wait. “Now, now, let’s not be too hasty here. Actually, that’s the exact thing we should be doing. I didn’t explain everything entirely, my… apologies.”

    There was not an ounce of sincerity to the apology, but there was a fleck of urgency that lay under its flowery words, giving some amount of credibility, “Earlier, back when you were talking to that ugly bug, you mentioned somewhat of an antivenom. I couldn’t have put it to better words, myself! That thing housed within the vial… your cow friend managed to seal it, but it will do us no good if it's allowed to starve and die. All that power -- power you need to stave off that pretty curse of yours -- will be lost. It is paramount that we crack it open as soon as possible, unless, of course, you fancy becoming a thrall to it.”

    “What will happen when the contents are released?” Rodal asked simply, noticing the eagerness of the being.

    “Why, they will resist, of course. More like flee, knowing them. It has always been a coward,” The sword spoke, words curling in fiendish delight, “But it shouldn’t be much of a struggle should they try to resist. That being said…”

    The voice trailed off, and even before they spoke, Rodal could get the impression that they were after something. The voice continued, floating closer to him, as if creeping, “Our previous, shall we say, dispute, has left me rather exhausted. If you could spare a mere shilling of blood…I could bolster my strength and overpower that knave with utter ease. Consider it to be in our mutual interests.”

    There was only a second of hesitation from Rodal, considering his options. If the blade struggled it would bring too much attention, but if it was bolstered it could deal with the contents swiftly.

    Rodal placed the vial on the ground, then rising up again to offer the blade some blood from the palm of his hand. The cold steel glided across his flesh with ease, biting deep and hungrily. Crimson flowed out readily, yet did not trickle down his hand. Instead, the red droplets rose up in clumps, flowing into the blade’s surface and disappearing. Rodal could recall that it looked identical to what he had seen it do with the commander’s blood.

    A harsh red glow emitted from the sword, which then struck at the earthen encasing with one decisive motion. The rock and crystal shattered, stirring the air around Rodal with the scent of rich soil. The last vestiges of Stalwart Bluff’s will had vanished, leaving the delicate vial of red liquid.

    The fluid crashed against its casing, swirling wildly moments the blade pounced down upon it, shattering glass and spraying the crimson fluid. It vaporized instantly, condensing into the ghostly form of some thin figure. The creature let out a piercing, inhuman screech before it turned and fled, only to take the sword straight through its spectral back.

    As soon as the blade made contact with it, the apparition began to steadily dissolve, absorbed hungrily by the sword. It tried to beg, to struggle, but to no avail. Strangely, as one shade began to disappear, a new one appeared on the opposite side of the sword. It was tall and thin, holding onto the hilt as if it had been there the whole time.

    Once the stabbed creature had been completely absorbed, The Sword’s hilt glowed beautifully, like a setting sun drowning in ocean tides. The figure lowered the blade and then turned to Rodal, approaching him slowly. It stood before him, and once again he can hear the sword’s voice, louder than before, “See? Perfectly under control. What wonders a little blood can do.”

    “Now what” Rodal asked, seemingly unbothered by the situation, wrapping some spare cloth around the palm of his hand to stop any bleeding.

    The figure reached out with a transparent hand, offering it to Rodal, “Give me that hand of yours. I assure you, no blood is required. At least, not yours. It’s time I fulfill a part of my bargain. Earn some trust, yes? My dear friend, allow me to begin the process of your cure.”

    Rodal offered his hand once more, he didn’t trust the blade enough to call it a friend. Most who’d used that label had become troublesome one way or another, but it almost seemed like the blade hardly tried to hide that.

    “Oh, honestly. You could lose that sour look of yours, darling. You’re far too easy to tease and far less fun…” the voice said as it touched Rodal’s hand.

    A cold energy gripped him the moment they made contact, spreading through his veins like an icy flood. In response to it, he can feel something crawling beneath his skin, clawing at him from the inside and biting at his heart. Then it vanished, leaving only a lingering chill.

    Once it was over, Rodal would notice that the cut on his hand had been sealed up, and the ghostly silhouette holding the sword was gone. It floated in front of him as it always had, the gem glinting with a steady red glow. The voice spoke again, yet this time seemed less smug.

    “Dear me… you didn’t mention that other, well, predicament of yours. Keeping your cards close to your chest, are we?” The voice purred, sword drawing closer as if to inspect him. It made a harsh laugh, “No wonder that idiot is having such trouble enslaving you. Oh, how I love it when one bites off more than they can chew. I certainly hope you don’t intend for me to cure you of that as well…?”

    Rodal remained quiet, the blade had just seemingly confirmed the existence of some separate predicament or curse that also hindered the previous curse. He wondered if such a source could be the reason for his status as a foul blood. “Our agreement only requires you to help me with the curse, my separate predicament does not involve you…” Rodal explained to the blade.

    “Oh? But doesn’t it?” the smugness in the voice had returned in full form. Like a hungry wolf chanced upon a lamb, it seemed to sense when it had gained the upper hand. “Now isn’t this delicious… don’t tell me you were unaware?”

    “I was uncertain, but you are not part of it, we are done for tonight” Rodal extended the sheath again, this time wanting to waste little time to return to the communal area.

    “How adorable. Well, if you insist. It’s a shame, really. Here I was thinking we could have a good old-fashioned heart-to-heart between friends.” The voice teased as the sword delayed its return to the ugly sheath. “Speaking of which, it’s got that pretty little heart of yours in quite the death grip. Such a waste. I’d be careful of it, if I were in your unfortunate shoes. That thing has quite the temper. As intrigued as I am to see how it twists you, I would hate for our deal to end prematurely.”

    The sword returned to the sheath, its red glow fading away as the blade was concealed.

    The sword had proven itself useful, but it also demonstrated a complicated and troublesome attitude.

    With the vial now shattered into pieces, Rodal reached down to collect the remaining fragments and left the private area he was in, eventually bumping into one of the night guards, requesting if they could deliver these fragments to The Spinner. It was pointless to hold onto these shards, and having them delivered would place him under the spirit's good graces.

    Rodal swiftly returned to the communal area, and went to bed immediately, like he’d never left the area.
 
yP973TE.jpg

In Dreams...
Juju Juju​


__jessica_reverse_1999_drawn_by_henrryxv__sample-6ab708c02815c2c2b520150a87a07fdb.jpg
It no longer hurt.

The air was pure, her clothes unsoiled, and body cleansed. Meat returned to her physique, staving away famine that once ravished her to the bone. She could blink without her eyelids scraping against her pupils; click her tongue without it feeling like sandpaper. More importantly, she could stand on all fours.

Cynthora watched the skies of what must have been the gift of afterlife. At last, she could let go. She'd no longer have to fight the monstrous Astellans and reunite with her loved ones. Only peace awaited her...

But the peace was so brazenly interrupted by the crashing of a fallen star. A glowing mass of light which left a crater of murky black in its wake. As Cynthora approached, so many unwelcome feelings reached for her. Feelings she thought would be left behind in death. Cynthora wouldn't pretend to understand how the afterlife worked. Faced with these two objects, she circled in place in deliberation.

The glowing star provided a feeling she knew all too well: hope. A dangerously misleading feeling. Hope sealed her people's fates; ensured that none of them ever had a chance to survive. Every moment she dreamed of a better life, she felt what this star emanated. Not again, she thought. Never again.

The black pool, as suppressed as it made her feel, granted safety in control. Cynthora didn't consider much else as she wandered towards it.
 
Autumn Ichor
Status: Nervous, annoyed, yet hopeful.

Autumn was grateful to be in dry clothing and have a place to sleep. Even if it wasn’t exactly as comfortable as her bed back in her home world, it felt like heaven after the day she’d been through. The fox would fall asleep rather quickly into a deep slumber. While it was beneficial for her body, it wasn’t for her mind. The scenes on the battlefield infiltrated her mind. Blood curdling screams, a soldier burning to death from a fiery spell, a mage losing her hand as a swordsman closed the distance. The speck of the mage dying far off in the distance. These sights and sounds replayed over and over and over in her head.

To those accustomed to the battlefield, it would be something trivial. Something they had gone through and gotten over early on in their days as a soldier. But to Autumn, who had never seen the wrath and hatred that a war brewed to the forefront of human actions… It was nightmare material, and it coalesced into just that. A nightmare. It always ended with her powerless to save those around her, or even herself. Autumn had just experienced the feeling of a wolf tearing her throat out before jolting upright. She panted, as if she really hadn’t been able to breathe due to not having a windpipe anymore. But after quickly grasping at her throat, it was clear it was still there.

What wasn’t clear however, was where she was or how she arrived there. Looking down at what she sat upon, Autumn noticed the fluid and how she didn’t sink into it. Black, cool, and leaving no residue, it confused Autumn. Soon, specks appeared in the liquid below her. Autumn peered down for a moment longer before realizing two things. Her own form flickered, and memories could be seen between these flickers of time. Portions of her life she’d left behind, sure she would never see or remember anymore showed themselves in these obsidian waters…

The second was that the specks weren’t in the water. They were simply reflections. Her gaze traveled upwards to the sky where hundreds of thousands or ‘stars’ lit this ‘sky’ above her head. Before long, streaks of light, akin to shooting stars accompanied these lights above her head. It all created a dazzling cacophony of light and sights, not only in the sky, but reflected off the ground below her. Autumn stood, but swayed and almost lost her balance as the sight tricked her into feeling momentarily weightless. As if suspended in the heavens, among the stars and satellites above…

One of the things to help her stabilize her was the sight of a single streak in the sky. It curved and slowly began to get larger. It was coming right towards her and before she could blink, it was there,skidding across the obsidian sea. Like water and oil though, they seemed to be incompatible. Like they would not mix. They were different. This feeling was only amplified as they started to call out to Autumn, emitting feelings of their intentions to her.

It was frustrating. More and more and more kept piling on top of her. Before she could come to terms with being transported to another world, she was thrust into a war. Before being able to choose a side, she was hunted. Before she could rest safely, she was ushered to speak to those in charge. Before she could leave, they were attacked. Before she could even rest fitfully, she was given another vision that baffled her. Autumn wished for just a few hours of peace and tranquility. But it seemed that was too much to ask for…

Freedom… A concept that was foreign and scary in its most exaggerated definition. Autumn wasn’t sure what to do if she had full freedom. The freedom to not work, not worry, and not do anything. If she was that free, what point would there be to anything? If everything was perfect and Autumn was free to do whatever she wanted, she felt as if she would do nothing. Everything she did was to work towards her goal. A goal that was tied to her job. If she achieved this lofty goal, basically a dream, then what else would she do? Autumn had never planned past that, as she assumed she would never get there. Eternity and an adventure that never ended also made her shy away. Autumn didn’t want to exist forever. She didn't think being immortal would do anything but make her indifferent and numb to the experiences in the world, both good and bad. Power also didn’t matter to Autumn. While she knew the value of it, she didn’t like the responsibility that often came with it, and also felt there were people better suited than her to handling such a thing.

As for what the other offered… Suppression and containment. Restraint, duty and the mastering of oneself… It was more tempting to Autumn than the other. However, Autumn felt as if these were her strong points already. Her control, independence and duty. In fact, she’d always dedicated her life to duty. Well, before ending up here. These were things Autumn not only felt confident in, but prided her abilities in. Autumn considered the possibility of putting all her eggs in one basket and doubling down on what she felt she was so good at, but she was also aware of the cons that could come from this path. Mainly, isolation and independence… Too much independence. It was something that had been hurting her in the past. Doing things alone and by herself. In fact, before she had ended up in this world, she had noticed it herself. She needed to rely on others more, and open up more. Her tendencies to be a workaholic and do things on her own meant she was often lonely with no time for frivolous things like friends or significant others.

While neither of these options offered a companion, one of them was more likely to leave the door to one open instead of closed…

Autumn closed her eyes, breathed out, and reached for the star…

Juju Juju
 
OT UAAAH ZHRO
Return to the Dead City
INFINITE MONOCHROME SUNRISE​
Dull pain radiated from the throat as Lilliana opened her eyes. She instinctively reached for her slit throat, only to find the injury had all but disappeared, leaving only a scar. In fact, Lilliana's body was no longer of skin and bone. A pale glow emanated from her outstretched hand, a sea of monochrome stars shone through her translucent form. Lilliana had died. She was in the dead city now. Strangely, this wasn't her first time visiting, though back then her soul was still bound to her body. Behind her was the pale city, a ruined, Victorian era maze like network of buildings bathed in pale light. Ahead of her, her almost small seeming planet, beset among a sea of stars. Just behind the plan
Ath-Yolazsth the Towering Eye | World of Horror Wiki | Fandom
et an unnatural horror beheld itself. An eldritch, bloated body of tendrils floated just beside the planet, bathing Lilliana's doomed world in a monochrome light. It was a red glow in reality, but no color penetrated the dead city. The abominations towering eye gazed upon the doomed world, flitting back and forth as it examined its prey. A pang of guilt rang through the ghost as she turned her back on her doomed world. She wanted to stay, to fight the foul god directly, but this was for the best. She couldn't stay here in The Dead City though. The destiny of the world could rely on her escaping deaths cold embrace.

Lilliana took a deep breath and closed her eyes and focused on the monochrome sky. She thought of how she's been wronged. On how she wasn't finished. She wasn't ready for death. There was still so much to do. This was not her destiny. As she focused on what was lost, what could have been, Lilliana felt the lightest of tugs on her form. She held her arms out and let go of her connection. Her connection to her world, to the dead city, to everything she once was. She felt her form begin to be pulled away from her home and into the depths of space. Faster and faster she began to float through the cosmos, she could feel her consciousness beginning to fade into nothing. Before she fully lost consciousness though, she turned back to her doomed world, to the towering monster preparing to torture its denizens. She called out to it, spoke its name. In an instant the gargantuan eye flitted to the form of the ghostly Lilliana as she flew farther and farther away from it, deeper into the starry expanse. The last thing she felt was the monster trying and failing to connect to her mind, to yank her back toward it.

Lilliana opened her eyes once more to find herself somewhere entirely different. Infinite darkness rippled beneath her as she looked around. Then stars began to flit to to life around her and before she knew it she stood beneath a beautiful star filled vista. Except Lilliana didn't recognize the stars above her. She knew the constellations like that back of her hand, and all these stars were undeniably different. She scanned the sky once again, and again didn't find any constellations, nor did she find a certain red star. She shrugged the sky off and looked ahead of her. It seemed she had a choice, but by who, or what? There was nothing in the chamber, and she knew she wouldn't get any answers until she made her choice. She was immediately drawn to the shining star. Power, potential, progress. Her very being yearned for it, but Lilliana hesitated. She wasn't here for herself. She turned to the other option. Control, mastery, duty. To end and to begin. She wouldn't have picked it under normal circumstances but well, these were far from normal circumstances.

She had a mission to carry out, after all.
 

  • 1711760545011.pngZareth | :bishiesparklesl::bishiesparklesr:
    sleep drifted into Zareth, pulling his brain deep into rest. Zareth did not find rest this night, his eyes opening only to be met with a strange place he did not know. This was almost humourous to him that today he had woken up not once, but twice to unfamiliar surroundings. He briefly wondered if he would soon be interrogated by the human again.

    at the mention of the other man, Zareth found himself looking around him, trying to find the other someone else he recognized. There was no one else with him, he stood alone in this place. Zareth also took into account that the aches that seemed to constantly infect his body and eyes didn't seem to be bothering him at all; not even his eyes struggled to see. He concluded that was a dream, though the significance of it he did not know.

    as the two options lay before him, Zareth let his eyes flutter closed and thought for a moment, feeling the pull of each one as he decided. When his eyes opened again, he had made a choice, his feet moving towards the crashed star. He could feel the power coming off of it in waves, the ability to be more than he already was. To be something more, that is all he had ever wished for. In the back of his mind, he remembered what had happened the last time he had gone searching for power, the grip of death that had pulled him under. After all the sacrifices he made, he was still nothing, still unable to be something. So his feet did not stop until he was before the star. He would not falter until his journey was over.
 
  • YsFanatic YsFanatic AriAriAbabwa AriAriAbabwa Solirus Solirus ThatWhichShouldBe ThatWhichShouldBe November Witch November Witch seasonedcat seasonedcat jmann jmann
    The pooling void was silent as it was judged and denied in favour of the star. A subtle wave of sadness wafted from it before the waters receded, draining back into the endless dark below. The presence faded too, drowned out by the radiance of the fallen star.

    The air thrummed with energy as it was approached. Though the light made it impossible to see any details, a touch would confirm that it was some sort of orb made of a smooth, metallic substance. It was warm to the touch, like purest sunlight on bleached rock.

    Upon contact or merely drawing close to the star, one could feel a lightness upon their very soul, pouring into them until it became a part of their being. It burned within their flesh, but the discomfort lasted only for a moment. After the sensation faded, they could sense something new brimming within. Power. Potential waiting to be tapped.

    As the blessing settled into its host, the surrounding dreamscape shifted.

    In a glorious, outward bloom, the twilight was blotted out by light. Like the dawn rising above a sea, billows of violet and blue were turned into pinks and gold. The stars twinkled no more, swallowed up by the flooding light. Clouds replaced the distant stardust, and the air was filled with tiny motes, like softly drifting snow. A gentle music permeated it all, faint yet more beautiful and delicate than stained-glass. There was a chorus hidden within, yet the words evaded all senses. Familiar and yet entirely foreign and illogical to the mind.

    A woman now stood where the fallen star had once been. She wore a trailing white dress and had long golden hair, both of which fluttered gently in a nonexistent breeze. A blindfold covered the upper half of her face, and a brilliant halo of light floated just behind her head. It radiated light, casting a golden glow upon everything around her.

    She looked vaguely familiar, though it was impossible to recall just where she had been seen before. It was a tip-of-the-tongue itch that squirmed the more one tried to recognize her. Then, like sand through fingers, it slipped away.

    Untitled66_20240321131626.png​



    Valleni’s storm of anguished lightning did little to stir either the awaiting star or the black pool. Though electricity arced around her in the tempest, it did not touch either of the two oddities that appeared on the endless space. Together, they waited until the worst of the storm had passed, and their subtle tugs could be more clearly felt.

    It was only naturally for one to be chosen over the other, just as one sought light in the darkness. As the divine energy seeped into Valleni’s core, she would feel arms around her, hugging her tightly in a maternal embrace. A hand stroked the back of her head, which was now pressed upon a shoulder.

    “Sweet child, you weep for what is lost. It is torture without end, one I know all too well. My heart aches for you.” The woman tilted her head down, as if to gaze upon Valleni.

    With a blindfold and pale hair, the lightning savant might even mistake her at first for a more familiar face. The semblance between the two was striking, though not enough to confuse them. As if reading such thoughts, the woman continued.

    “You yearn for the dearly departed Lucille,” she stated knowingly, voice tinged with sadness, “I can reunite you with her. Would you like that?”
    “Doi Murakami, dear child, I have heard your prayers.” The woman said, placing a hand over her chest and offering a soft smile. “Pray forgive my lack of answer. It is only now that I have enough strength to give you an audience. It is through your actions that I have been given this fleeting chance.”

    She took Doi’s hand in her own, her skin radiating warmth like a spot of sunlight, “I have watched you with bated breath, anticipating this moment that I might speak with you unfiltered. Know that all you have done has not been in vain. You were chosen for a reason.”

    The woman glanced, unseeing, towards the crater that had been left by her fall. By now the waters were completely gone, though the cracks remained. “You have the gift to shepherd the blind towards the light. It is what you were created for, born for. Yet you know this, do you not? You have for a long time…”
    As Han reached for the star, he would feel a hand reach for his. Buried in the glow, he heard a voice, warm like dappled light, “My dearest kindred, you shall burn again, brighter than ever before…”

    The power that surged within him would be a familiar feeling for the Sun King, one that was perhaps nostalgic. It was none other than the touch of divinity, a blessing. He could sense the ashes of his powers stir, rekindled by this momentary spark. It was perhaps a drop compared to what he once was, but it was a start.

    After the light faded enough to reveal her, the strange woman still held onto Han’s hand, but this time placed her other over it. Her skin was warm, radiant with the divine, "Han Liuyang, King of the Rising Sun… long have I awaited this moment...”

    She offered a smile, bright as the glow upon her face, “It truly fills my heart with gladness to see you resplendent in both vigour and zeal. I understand that your reawakening must have been confusing for you, shorn of the glories you once knew.”

    Her lips fell from the smile, the smoothness of her voice tarnished in the tones of regret, “Pray excuse my inability to welcome your rebirth. It was all I could do but gather my strength and wait for an opportunity where we might speak. I hope this modest gift is ample enough apology for now.”
    Part of Rodal would recognize the power that surged into him and resent it. This was none other than the touch of the divine, an ember of what once was. He could feel it shivering within his soul, raking the coals of that which slept as cinders.

    Something had been reawakened, and it was uncertain if it could ever be lulled back into slumber.

    The woman’s smile was serene, an expression friendly enough for lack of any visible eyes. Her voice was melodious and smooth, yet Rodal would get the feeling that these words were not directed towards him, but through him, “Hail, my dearest kin.”

    She paused for a moment, smile dipping downward into a neutral sombre, “Ah, you despise me, do you not? I suppose it is merely within your nature. Suffering sparks hatred, and you have suffered much. This, I believe, we share. I pray you take this gift of mine as a token of trust. I am not your enemy. Our desires are much the same.”

    Drawing closer to Rodal, the woman’s voice changed somewhat. It was as if she was only addressing him now, “Rodal, long have I awaited this meeting. You must pardon my interference upon your inner revelations. This opportunity was far too precious to have missed. I am sure you both will understand. I sense that already you have changed much. ”
    Autumn took her time with her choice, carefully weighing the options before her. All the while, the two entities pressed against her mind, as if each struggling for purchase. A pool of blackness and a fallen star, a quiet pressure and a radiant glow. They waited patiently for the choice to be made, ebbing and flowing with in Autumn’s psyche.

    In the end, she chose the star. The black water retreated and Autumn could feel the surge of energy collect in her body. As someone with mana, yet no ability to wield magic itself, Autumn would feel a tingling at the edges of her fingertips and a warmth in her chest. It was as if little fireflies were trapped within her body. A blessing had been bestowed upon her, potential waiting to be unleashed.

    The strange woman stood in the star’s afterglow, her smile bittersweet and her voice tinged in remorse, “Poor child. No heart so pure in its devotion to peace should ever feel the sting of solitude, and yet it is the tenderhearted who feel its teeth more often than not. It pains me at the mere thought of it.”

    She placed a hand across her chest, resting it upon the golden weaves of her bodice, “Please be at peace, Autumn Ichor. Let your heart be eased by the knowledge that you stand in the presence of a steadfast companion. I have witnessed your courage and compassion, awaiting this moment where I may act as more than a bystander. I offer you my blessing as a vow that I shall stand by your side for as long as you draw breath in this new life.”
    When the light faded, Zareth would feel a hand upon his cheek. The strange woman was cradling it gently, a silken smile beneath her obscured eyes, “It is a tragedy of fate is it not? To sacrifice everything, only for the fruits of one's efforts to lie barren.”

    The bitterness in the woman’s voice made the light sharpen somehow, a momentary bloom in the ambient glow of the surroundings. It passed after a moment, and both her voice and expression softened with it, “I know this pain well, child. I see it in your scars, feel it in the weight upon your soul. I know all that you have suffered, and my heart weeps for you. You desire more than what this cruel world could ever provide, and I have the means to grant it to you.”

    She lowered her hand, “Zareth, you are destined for so much more than what you are. Much more than you will ever comprehend. You need only grasp it, this blessing I have gifted onto you."
    (jmann is too busy to respond, but he let me know that Gamma chose the star!)
    When the light receded, the woman stood with hands claps together. She let the silence draw on for a moment before gracing the air with her melodious words, “You are not like the others, are you? One whose tale has been etched into its history like a fable, burnt brightly and then burnt out. Gammariah the Leading Light, Son of Adriae.”

    She offered a wide smile, gentle delight in her voice, “You have inspired many in your short life, and I have little doubt you will continue to shine with all your rekindled light. Yet I am curious. If you would indulge me, I would ask you a question, Lightbringer. After your legacy has been made, and the fight has been fought, what else remains?”
 
The infusing of strange energy went largely unnoticed by Valleni as when felt the embrace she reflexively tried to, unsuccessfully, pull away from the unknown woman. As the divine figure spoke, a fresh wave of grief and anger washed over the mage and she found herself gripping one of the woman's arms, her hand squeezing for all its worth with uncontrolled emotion. "If you know that much," she finally starts to say with gritted teeth, "then you already know that I need to be with her, no matter what."

Juju Juju
 
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