[On the day of the holiday, a plate of homemade cookies and a sample of herbal tea mysteriously appears on his doorstep. The wrapping is decorated with a fresh lily flower (actually a Fae magic product, designed to fade away from existence in a few hours) and a ribbon. The attached handwritten note reads as follows:]
Happy Modranicht! Let’s have another great year here in Aefenglom!
[Because Myr doesn't know where Lahabrea lives, he leaves a voice message to let the Ascian know his Modranicht gifts are in possession of a courier company staffed by Pucas, who have instructions to hand a parcel over to a masked-and-cloaked fellow named Lahabrea.
It contains a bag of homemade honey candy and a small basket of tiny, fresh(!) strawberries.]
[Eventually, it finds its way to where it's supposed to go.
Nobody dies in the process. Somehow. And eventually, a message gets sent back, albeit over the device instead of via puca. Audible, but clearly a recording - it's sent at some tiny fragile hour of the morning, long before sun up.]
I wonder how in the heavens you've managed strawberries in the dead of winter. ... Thank you for the gift.
[Given Myr's inconstant hours it should maybe not be a surprise when he answers within minutes,] You're very welcome, messere--and I'd not be fit to call myself a Faun if I couldn't manage strawberries in winter, I think, given we could force 'em back home without magic at all.
[He sounds just a little pleased with himself.] How's the flavor?
[Myr would never object to sharing the joy of winter strawberries.
He gives a pleased huff at the question.]
Well--to be fully fair with you, messere, these didn't grow in the snow; the Witch I live with has a spell over our garden to keep it warm and livable the year round, though I let some of it go fallow as the plants would given the shorter sunlight. But it is our gift to grow green things, [myr ur boner for alliteration is a problem,] whatever the weather. Strawberries in snow is the least of it, though I'd need to spend most of my time and mana on them.
[Calling whatever-it-is he draws on that's not really magic "mana" is probably a bad habit, but whatever.]
Speaking of--are you settling into your own particular gifts? [A very delicate way of asking what Lahabrea's been up to--or changing into, as it were. He may need to be more direct.]
It's a good thing he actually keeps that damn pocketwatch on hand ... for the most part. Not always, there are some times when you simply don't have electronics nearby, like bathtimes, but this isn't one of those times. Even then there is a noticeable delay in anything like a response, as if Elidibus had left a message instead.
But, eventually, there is a response, after what sounds awfully like dropping the thing, and then air across a microphone, and then some muffled speaker-type thumps that might be trying to clean it off.
There is a further momentary delay in the wake of the sounds coming from the watch. Just what in the name of Zodiark was that about?
"I apologize for interrupting your endeavors but I feel this cannot wait." There is a short pause. He probably is debating whether to ask after what caused the irritation. But this is Lahabrea we're speaking about.
"I will be forthright. I believe it is in both our best interests to engage in a Bond together."
Hardly the most intimate proposal. But it is so thoroughly ingrained to show not weakness, but confidence in decisions. It is Elidibus' duty to display conviction for the sake of his fellow Convocation members.
It's true. Just about everything irritates him. Especially lately.
There is, somewhat muffled, the small distinct POP of something tiny exploding. "Your timing is impeccable." Which is to say, absolutely horrendous, but in truth whatever going on is probably just a minor annoyance and not something actually serious or there'd be a lot more fury in his tone.
It probably has nothing to do with Elidibus.
"That said, such a certainty is debatable. Maintaining your deception will become significantly harder, and the impact to your soul and mind might not be best for your.." There's a moment's pause, then: "Gaps in memory." He knows what this does to him, having it bleed onto Elidibus..
Well, he doesn't know in exacting detail how bonds work but he does know there's significant give and take. Driving the Emissary mad with dragon instincts would be horrendous.
"Indeed," he answers, on the matter of his timing.
Everything else which follows is definitely more somber. It is true he seems to go suddenly silent at the gentle reminder of his memories. One can imagine the somewhat familiar sight of the Emissary clenching his fists as he struggled to recall what on earth one or another Ascian might have been referencing.
"Maintaining my deception is a distant priority compared to this. If I must deal with those who would take umbrage with my true identity a little sooner, so be it." It was never thought to be permanent. It would have been useful but now? Other matters have been brought to his attention.
"But I am curious. What do you think would impact my soul and mind, exactly, through this Bond? My study has indicated that any benefits far outweigh the risks." He pauses, then allows, "...for both of us."
He has no desire to find out if he will explode, without this Bond, whether or not he believes this will be a problem. But it also serves as one more reason to bring to bear, when convincing Lahabrea this is the best possible path.
[Did Emet-Selch feel particularly up to contacting much of anyone, so soon after reviving? No. But he'd finally managed to rest a little, Mettaton was safely revived as well (even now he has the watch propped up against him while he types), and duty, such as it was, called. While he doubted the other Ascians would have had reason to learn of his death elsewhere, he'd much prefer that they hear it from him, if anyone. Besides, it was potentially useful information for them all to have, even though he'd never had any intention of collecting it personally.
It's not the easiest thing in the world to type, and with his condition as it was it's slow going, but he wasn't about to use voice or (Zodiark forbid) video when he was in this sort of state. Especially not when considering who he was messaging. He needed to maintain what dignity he could.]
Lahabrea.
I seem to have found myself in slightly poorer health as of late. Perhaps you've heard rumors of the recent trouble literally plaguing our not-so-fair city. While not directly related, well, one thing led to another, and I've learned a few things that you might find interesting.
Dying here does not occur with the ease with which we're accustomed. Not even for us. There's no ability to pilot our recently deceased form, nor to leave it and claim another. With no chance to revive it on our own, we're forced to rely instead on the resurrective mercy of the Coven's necromancers. Not to mention that the form our soul is reunited with is the same as the wreck we'd just departed.
So in the event that you were yet entertaining any thought towards shedding your current form and finding another, I fear that the attempt would lead you right back to where you are now, and a bit worse for wear in the process.
{It takes the better part of several hours for a response to be formulated, not because it's ignored but because he simply hadn't had the device with him, too busy with other matters to remember the stupid little pocketwatch.
And maybe that delay is for the best, as it gives time. If it had been an emergency there would have been a follow-up. There is of course once he's aware of it the immediate compulsion to see for himself what's gone on and more importantly who did the killing. He can read between the lines, though it was barely veiled to begin with, and Elidibus had left on some vital errand a while back.
But there are priorities even in the delayed response.}
Emet-Selch.
Who is it, or what, specifically, has rendered you so temporarily inconvenienced?
[It's all well and good that Lahabrea took some time to reply, because Emet-Selch took even more time to reply on top of that. Between a nap and Elidibus' impromptu visit and all of that (and possibly another nap), it's a few hours more before the Ascian remembers to check his watch for any responses.
The question doesn't surprise him, and for all that he'd rather not answer it, it was information he'd prefer that Lahabrea got from him, and not anywhere else.]
A combination of cwyld and a cwyld-infected, mind-controlled puca.
And yes, though it's not as if we died of that. Were that the case, we wouldn't be having this conversation... as there would have been nothing left to revive.
It seems your Warrior of Light has been under the influence of the cursed jewelry.
Irhya informed me of the completion of Filia's second saddle. When I asked after her health on arrival, she suggested I choose to help her with the curse or mate with her.
Why would I? They are as they stand harmless annoyances, and I care not if she is mildly inconvenienced. It is pathetic she would be so vulgar as to demand you solve her problems for her, a veritable stranger, and she one who would as soon kill you as anything else! If she presses her suit, it wisest to tell her to seek either the Coven or a professional who is skilled at the needs of vampires, they are paid for that explicit purpose.
There is certainly a strong hope that you would have better sense than to do so yourself, but you have done strange things before to woo a Warrior of Light into being your plaything... though I admit mating with a corpse is certainly beyond the usual range.
The burden of the trip down into the Cwyldheart had been onerous, full of pain, and not as easily washed away as a magic seed's growth and Elidibus' outer facade had made it out to be in the end. But ordeals were borne either similar or worse over the eons by Ascians. Several long, hot baths had helped too.
Nightmares were a sharp retelling of the maddening whispers and hallucinations the flesh-bound Ascian had suffered in the pulsing mass, under the sway of infection. Four months of stable memory and an assured personal identity relive the struggle of a rudderless vessel in the storm which echoed millennia of loss and reshaped drive. A conscious will may have preserved him in waking hours but sleep was another matter entirely. But it had to be done for he had little to none within the week's eternal journey through the rot of the Cwyldheart. So time and again the Bond may have given some hint to the details of the restless nights. Faces met in Aefenglom (and before) fading to obscurity. Struggling to voice a name he knows but seems unable to put into words. Being stripped of a body and remade into a shell of black and white with nothing within but air and darkness.
A fleeting query, who am I, without this office?
The Emissary made an effort not to go to sleep alone. At least not for a bit after his return and he seemed content to relax in the shared building the two Unsundered called home. It would not completely eradicate the terrible dreams but they would have been lessened in proximity to his draconic Bondmate. He would have remarked on finding a mortal to use for a temporary Bond potion with for the journey in the depths. Someone who was not the Warrior of Light or Emet-Selch's mechanical fiance but had some basic idea that 'Ardbert' was something much more than he appeared. A chance encounter which had provided a convenient tool for a journey Lahabrea could not be risked for.
But it had not been the same. It had served, but the Ascian now knew it was keenly different from what he shared with Lahabrea. Whether time or the fact that he considered his fellow Unsundered equal, current circumstances aside, or because of some lingering sense of family deep within his subconsciousness, Elidibus could not personally say. But when the distance between himself and the Speaker had closed and the erratic behavior of Bonds had ceased, there had been a moment in which the Bond with Zack and the one with Lahabrea could be compared. It was clear which was superior. The Emissary had even expressed relief when the last vestiges of the potion had worn off.
Then odd restlessness began to build several days into the new month. There are small clues at first. While Elidibus has managed to consciously impart the various idioms of a mortal 'at rest', he still had a habit of being unnaturally still when not keeping up appearances or being completely focused. Contrary to this was idle tapping of a foot, the shift of weight when seated for long periods and even taking breaks from his research on his own volition. The fidgeting was frowned at and stilled when he became aware of it. Irritation for the most part was expressed but he went on with the routine of the day.
The only time he seemed comfortable was in the pursuit of spellwork. There, the tension and restlessness eased considerably as studies and lessons were turned into practical efforts. Elidibus, often conservative in his use of Aefenglom's magic when it came to his reserves, seemed to be hunting for reasons to engage in some sort of spellwork. Cleaning, mending, imbument. Without other distractions, small scraps of Lahabrea's crafting leftovers not consigned to the hoard- particularly any stone or gem chips- will have been discovered in small piles, usually with the same enchantment cast over and over upon it. A small pile of glittering tiny light 'chips', wood shavings in a small heap and burning with a blue fire that does not spread but generates a small warmth. Larger chunks of polished river rock lined up in a row. Touching any of them would cause a gentle chime to ring out, each a different note in a scale. Anything distinctly Lahbrea's was left alone. Anything else? Pretty fair game.
By the evening of the new moon, the crackle of energy both magic and abstract is palpable in the Emissary's presence. Anything approaching 'calm' and 'still' was a notable struggle for him and he was completely aware of his inability to control himself. As for control of the magic...
There is a small explosion from the rooms upstairs Elidibus calls his own- a deep 'whump' as if the air were displaced dramatically. Whether Lahabrea is there or not is entirely up to the dragon's inclination and prerogative but suffice to say it wasn't a completely worrying level of explosion and much less anything to indicate the Emissary had blown himself up. Smoke, shrapnel, and something akin to burnt ozone would linger in the air and the brown-haired man is prone on the ground some feet from the workstation he'd stood at. Despite the suggestion of 'fire', there is no sign of soot or ember. An amethyst- one of his purchases- and the fittings of silver that might have suggested a pendant lie in a pile of shards and twisted metal on the surface. Surprisingly not scattered like shrapnel about the room. Nearest guess? A loss of control had created something like matching polarities between the Witch's latent pool and whatever energy had once been present in the destroyed pendant.
It had served, some temporary fragile bond with a mortal, and Lahabrea had not made mention of it by deliberate choice. Much could be said of course, some bitter, some not, but necessity was a force all its own, wasn't it? And he would not risk the cwyld. Not when he knew how fast it could take a dragon, and how difficult it would be to bring one down should it go mad. Much could be endured when necessary, and Elidibus was a man grown even by their terms, long since - and more than capable of handling himself when times called for it.
This knowledge did not keep agitation at bay, or lingering deep-set concern that he would have inevitably denied regardless if asked about it. It had not been a pleasant month. The waiting ate at him like little else could, the surity that this place could not truly mark their souls but certainly could inconvenience them only a little consolation against knowing (through the enterprising communication of another deep underground) exactly how high risk it truly was.
And then of course, something like recovery. As biting and acerbic as Lahabrea tended to be, it has been deliberately muted, contending with surges and shocks of foreign emotion and dream as surely and steadily as anything else. Often enough he'd had to rely on the Emissary to maintain even remotely an even keel.. what terrible harm is there in returning the favor? He was not the most comforting, but he could at least be a warm and familiar presence.
These are dreams. Reality, bitter and unwelcome though it is, awaited.
With explosions, apparently.
Not being given to wander about without reason, Lahabrea had for a good part of the day turned his attention to trying, mostly successfully, to work a truly inordinate number of chips of garlic butter and honey beneath the skin of a fat goose, and then arrange it amongst even more chips of butter and honey and cloves of garlic and other spices; he's not near enough to be a distraction but still 'there' nonetheless, if needed, if this strange restlessness broke into something more terrible. Not cwyld, the dragon knew that smell and it had not lingered. But this world had ways of twisting things besides the wyld, and he - far from the ebb and pull of the full moons, as calm and focused as he ever got - glances up at the muffled sound of something exploding, butter-speckled talons pausing their work. He listens, he waits.
There's no surge of agony, no desperate clawing fear or rage. Not yet, not that he can tell. Lahabrea remains where he is for a long few moments, ears perked, until he's certain that isn't about to suddenly change.
Potatos and vegetables are added, then the entire mess slid into the open-hearth oven.
It's only a few minutes, really, before the dragon picks his way delicately to where he knew Elidibus had been working, still drying his hands off on a small towel. He'd learned better, over the course of the last couple of months, how to measure his weight against the floor boards and not leave a constant path of creaking and groaning, but his approach nonetheless is neither completely silent nor even trying to be stealthy.
"Struggling with focus still?"
It's not scorn. The cause of it - the approach of the dark moon - is unknown to him, of course, he's not a witch of this world. But the past events are certainly enough to drive anyone to distraction. "It tastes like resonance, a touch. Are you well?"
By the time Lahabrea enters the room, the witch in question has regained his footing. The dragon arrives just in time to see the dignified Emissary in the middle of a quick hop or two, some squats, and a crane of his neck from side to side. A temporary potion or not, the mess last month's events had made of Bonds had imprinted a few habits upon the witch that he had yet to completely shake. This less... pragmatic way of checking to see if the body is still functioning properly after a knockback being one of them. The Ascian stills out of habit when Lahabrea speaks up. It's not as if he didn't hear the approach and know it for what it was. Who else would be walking upstairs? Certainly not Emet-Selch who could teleport if indeed he was visiting at all.
That would have been... more awkward given what he'd just been doing. The Emissary sighs at the way his thoughts shift as restlessly as his body. He sighs.
'I am fine' is a protest on the tip of Elidibus's tongue. But it's left unspoken since there's little reason to voice a lie and much more to at least give Lahabrea the courtesy of an honest answer. "This body brims with the aether of this star. It seems endless. I reach to weave it into form and function and find there is little rhyme or reason to the flow."
But that is not the issue. Fine control over a power that fluctuates is a problem mortals have. Not ones such as they. And the Bond itself should be making it even easier to control that power; particularly in the matter of enchantment which seems to have been Elidibus's primary focus if one were to consider all the piles of imbued leftovers around the house these days.
Focus is the issue. Which shouldn't be as much of an issue as it obviously is. The borrowed features of the Emissary darken as his thoughts inevitably turn to this. It is... uncomfortable to admit. He begins to approach the desk again. A glance in Lahabrea's direction speaks of an invitation to remain and come closer if desired. Then he waves a hand at the remains of the amulet. "These materials were not strong enough to bear my efforts. When I sought to disperse the unleashed aether, my mind turned instead to thoughts of preservation of my work thus far."
Elidibus definitely sounds very uncomfortable. One might say embarrassed if you could claim the Emissary gets embarrassed.
"...It seems the outcome was to align the enchantment's polarity with what I had gathered to finish the transference. With predictable results." Being knocked back flat on his ass.
And the enchantment.... well, launched off. Somewhere.
Bodies did require some level of maintenance. If Elidibus' were a bit stranger than Lahabrea's preference, well. It's not his form, not his concern. Whatever it took to keep the flesh working in proper order, that was just fine. Some of those moves had a bit of a look of exercise to them, after all!
"Mayhap it would do to vent the excess." He could feel his bondmate's magic levels, fed on them quite literally fairly often, but what it meant from an internal perspective he could only associate with what he knew of the past. Such power was denied him now, of course, but once.. "A suitable pyrotechnics display would likely be enough. Call it an errant celebration for the neighbors to enjoy." All it would do, of course, is waste energy.. but if that was the point? Then all's well, and fine work could be resumed!
He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning on the door frame that barely allowed him passage these days, a faint jingle of some hidden bit of jewelry following the motion. "I have found amethyst to be a poor focus for certain more restrictive forms of aether, from whence we come. Are you attempting fire, or light? I may have a ruby that would suit the touch of flame a little better, and mayhap a metal more conductive than silver. It would not be as appealing to look at, but mayhap in this case form must follow function."
It's ... none of it particularly judgy, as if not only was this a common ordinary occurrence but outright expected. Maybe it is - this is a foreign world after all, but treating it as if it's normal might well ease that skittering of embarrassment he knows isn't his.
[While she's in the business of issuing apologies, there's another one that talking with Elidibus convinced her was necessary. She debates using text for this one, but eventually decides to go with voice when she resolves she can keep herself steady throughout.]
Hi. You probably aren't looking to hear from me right now, or maybe ever, but I promise I won't take too much of your time.
I just wanted to apologize for behaving so flippantly towards you every time we met. And even, I know, some times we didn't. It took talking to Elidibus and a long time chewing on it to come to that conclusion, but it's not one I would have reached on my own, and that's my own fault. For all the talk of wanting to understand the Ascians, I didn't really try to understand you.
Whether or not we meet again after this, I'll endeavor to do better in the future.
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timeasmymeasure
Modranicht gift
Date: 2020-12-29 02:28 pm (UTC)Happy Modranicht! Let’s have another great year here in Aefenglom!
M⚜️
Modranicht gift!!
Date: 2021-01-02 03:20 am (UTC)It contains a bag of homemade honey candy and a small basket of tiny, fresh(!) strawberries.]
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Date: 2021-01-10 09:33 pm (UTC)Nobody dies in the process. Somehow. And eventually, a message gets sent back, albeit over the device instead of via puca. Audible, but clearly a recording - it's sent at some tiny fragile hour of the morning, long before sun up.]
I wonder how in the heavens you've managed strawberries in the dead of winter. ... Thank you for the gift.
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Date: 2021-01-15 04:59 am (UTC)[He sounds just a little pleased with himself.] How's the flavor?
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Date: 2021-01-16 10:58 pm (UTC)[And he's going to give a couple away given the opportunity, because strawberries! In1 winter!]
Is that a talent of fauns, then? Produce in the snow?
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Date: 2021-01-17 05:13 am (UTC)[Myr would never object to sharing the joy of winter strawberries.
He gives a pleased huff at the question.]
Well--to be fully fair with you, messere, these didn't grow in the snow; the Witch I live with has a spell over our garden to keep it warm and livable the year round, though I let some of it go fallow as the plants would given the shorter sunlight. But it is our gift to grow green things, [myr ur boner for alliteration is a problem,] whatever the weather. Strawberries in snow is the least of it, though I'd need to spend most of my time and mana on them.
[Calling whatever-it-is he draws on that's not really magic "mana" is probably a bad habit, but whatever.]
Speaking of--are you settling into your own particular gifts? [A very delicate way of asking what Lahabrea's been up to--or changing into, as it were. He may need to be more direct.]
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Date: 2021-01-10 10:39 pm (UTC)"Lahabrea. I wish to discuss a matter with you."
There seems to be a hint of urgency in the request. Whatever he's contacting him for, it's clearly of some import.
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Date: 2021-01-10 10:46 pm (UTC)But, eventually, there is a response, after what sounds awfully like dropping the thing, and then air across a microphone, and then some muffled speaker-type thumps that might be trying to clean it off.
"What."
..More of those noises.
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Date: 2021-01-10 11:01 pm (UTC)"I apologize for interrupting your endeavors but I feel this cannot wait." There is a short pause. He probably is debating whether to ask after what caused the irritation. But this is Lahabrea we're speaking about.
"I will be forthright. I believe it is in both our best interests to engage in a Bond together."
Hardly the most intimate proposal. But it is so thoroughly ingrained to show not weakness, but confidence in decisions. It is Elidibus' duty to display conviction for the sake of his fellow Convocation members.
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Date: 2021-01-10 11:26 pm (UTC)There is, somewhat muffled, the small distinct POP of something tiny exploding. "Your timing is impeccable." Which is to say, absolutely horrendous, but in truth whatever going on is probably just a minor annoyance and not something actually serious or there'd be a lot more fury in his tone.
It probably has nothing to do with Elidibus.
"That said, such a certainty is debatable. Maintaining your deception will become significantly harder, and the impact to your soul and mind might not be best for your.." There's a moment's pause, then: "Gaps in memory." He knows what this does to him, having it bleed onto Elidibus..
Well, he doesn't know in exacting detail how bonds work but he does know there's significant give and take. Driving the Emissary mad with dragon instincts would be horrendous.
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Date: 2021-01-11 12:00 am (UTC)"Indeed," he answers, on the matter of his timing.
Everything else which follows is definitely more somber. It is true he seems to go suddenly silent at the gentle reminder of his memories. One can imagine the somewhat familiar sight of the Emissary clenching his fists as he struggled to recall what on earth one or another Ascian might have been referencing.
"Maintaining my deception is a distant priority compared to this. If I must deal with those who would take umbrage with my true identity a little sooner, so be it." It was never thought to be permanent. It would have been useful but now? Other matters have been brought to his attention.
"But I am curious. What do you think would impact my soul and mind, exactly, through this Bond? My study has indicated that any benefits far outweigh the risks." He pauses, then allows, "...for both of us."
He has no desire to find out if he will explode, without this Bond, whether or not he believes this will be a problem. But it also serves as one more reason to bring to bear, when convincing Lahabrea this is the best possible path.
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From:text; ~around the 17th
Date: 2021-02-17 04:57 am (UTC)It's not the easiest thing in the world to type, and with his condition as it was it's slow going, but he wasn't about to use voice or (Zodiark forbid) video when he was in this sort of state. Especially not when considering who he was messaging. He needed to maintain what dignity he could.]
Lahabrea.
I seem to have found myself in slightly poorer health as of late. Perhaps you've heard rumors of the recent trouble literally plaguing our not-so-fair city. While not directly related, well, one thing led to another, and I've learned a few things that you might find interesting.
Dying here does not occur with the ease with which we're accustomed. Not even for us. There's no ability to pilot our recently deceased form, nor to leave it and claim another. With no chance to revive it on our own, we're forced to rely instead on the resurrective mercy of the Coven's necromancers. Not to mention that the form our soul is reunited with is the same as the wreck we'd just departed.
So in the event that you were yet entertaining any thought towards shedding your current form and finding another, I fear that the attempt would lead you right back to where you are now, and a bit worse for wear in the process.
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Date: 2021-02-19 07:22 pm (UTC)And maybe that delay is for the best, as it gives time. If it had been an emergency there would have been a follow-up. There is of course once he's aware of it the immediate compulsion to see for himself what's gone on and more importantly who did the killing. He can read between the lines, though it was barely veiled to begin with, and Elidibus had left on some vital errand a while back.
But there are priorities even in the delayed response.}
Emet-Selch.
Who is it, or what, specifically, has rendered you so temporarily inconvenienced?
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Date: 2021-02-20 12:45 pm (UTC)The question doesn't surprise him, and for all that he'd rather not answer it, it was information he'd prefer that Lahabrea got from him, and not anywhere else.]
A combination of cwyld and a cwyld-infected, mind-controlled puca.
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Date: 2021-02-20 04:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-02-21 02:57 am (UTC)And yes, though it's not as if we died of that. Were that the case, we wouldn't be having this conversation... as there would have been nothing left to revive.
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From:and suddenly, a wall. It'll probably take a while to write.
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From:Ping! (Or Appropriate Notification Noise)
Date: 2021-04-06 11:53 pm (UTC)Irhya informed me of the completion of Filia's second saddle. When I asked after her health on arrival, she suggested I choose to help her with the curse or mate with her.
You Have Mail! ..what IS the sound.
Date: 2021-04-06 11:55 pm (UTC)That's disgusting. Pray tell me you did not mate with a corpse, irregardless of her status as our sworn enemy.
Piano Notes?
Date: 2021-04-07 12:19 am (UTC)Of course I didn't.
[Elidibus isn't the type to use emoticons. But if he were, there would have been one of utter disgust included here.]
What possesses you to believe I would? Just because I have gained a mortal body does not mean I am led around by their base instincts.
Sudden Mozart.
Date: 2021-04-07 12:25 am (UTC)There is certainly a strong hope that you would have better sense than to do so yourself, but you have done strange things before to woo a Warrior of Light into being your plaything... though I admit mating with a corpse is certainly beyond the usual range.
Elidibus would record piano bits for notifications if desired.
From:if this isn't a thing yet it might be in the next update.
From:Excellent
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Date: 2021-05-16 12:44 am (UTC)Nightmares were a sharp retelling of the maddening whispers and hallucinations the flesh-bound Ascian had suffered in the pulsing mass, under the sway of infection. Four months of stable memory and an assured personal identity relive the struggle of a rudderless vessel in the storm which echoed millennia of loss and reshaped drive. A conscious will may have preserved him in waking hours but sleep was another matter entirely. But it had to be done for he had little to none within the week's eternal journey through the rot of the Cwyldheart. So time and again the Bond may have given some hint to the details of the restless nights. Faces met in Aefenglom (and before) fading to obscurity. Struggling to voice a name he knows but seems unable to put into words. Being stripped of a body and remade into a shell of black and white with nothing within but air and darkness.
A fleeting query, who am I, without this office?
The Emissary made an effort not to go to sleep alone. At least not for a bit after his return and he seemed content to relax in the shared building the two Unsundered called home. It would not completely eradicate the terrible dreams but they would have been lessened in proximity to his draconic Bondmate. He would have remarked on finding a mortal to use for a temporary Bond potion with for the journey in the depths. Someone who was not the Warrior of Light or Emet-Selch's mechanical fiance but had some basic idea that 'Ardbert' was something much more than he appeared. A chance encounter which had provided a convenient tool for a journey Lahabrea could not be risked for.
But it had not been the same. It had served, but the Ascian now knew it was keenly different from what he shared with Lahabrea. Whether time or the fact that he considered his fellow Unsundered equal, current circumstances aside, or because of some lingering sense of family deep within his subconsciousness, Elidibus could not personally say. But when the distance between himself and the Speaker had closed and the erratic behavior of Bonds had ceased, there had been a moment in which the Bond with Zack and the one with Lahabrea could be compared. It was clear which was superior. The Emissary had even expressed relief when the last vestiges of the potion had worn off.
Then odd restlessness began to build several days into the new month. There are small clues at first. While Elidibus has managed to consciously impart the various idioms of a mortal 'at rest', he still had a habit of being unnaturally still when not keeping up appearances or being completely focused. Contrary to this was idle tapping of a foot, the shift of weight when seated for long periods and even taking breaks from his research on his own volition. The fidgeting was frowned at and stilled when he became aware of it. Irritation for the most part was expressed but he went on with the routine of the day.
The only time he seemed comfortable was in the pursuit of spellwork. There, the tension and restlessness eased considerably as studies and lessons were turned into practical efforts. Elidibus, often conservative in his use of Aefenglom's magic when it came to his reserves, seemed to be hunting for reasons to engage in some sort of spellwork. Cleaning, mending, imbument. Without other distractions, small scraps of Lahabrea's crafting leftovers not consigned to the hoard- particularly any stone or gem chips- will have been discovered in small piles, usually with the same enchantment cast over and over upon it. A small pile of glittering tiny light 'chips', wood shavings in a small heap and burning with a blue fire that does not spread but generates a small warmth. Larger chunks of polished river rock lined up in a row. Touching any of them would cause a gentle chime to ring out, each a different note in a scale. Anything distinctly Lahbrea's was left alone. Anything else? Pretty fair game.
By the evening of the new moon, the crackle of energy both magic and abstract is palpable in the Emissary's presence. Anything approaching 'calm' and 'still' was a notable struggle for him and he was completely aware of his inability to control himself. As for control of the magic...
There is a small explosion from the rooms upstairs Elidibus calls his own- a deep 'whump' as if the air were displaced dramatically. Whether Lahabrea is there or not is entirely up to the dragon's inclination and prerogative but suffice to say it wasn't a completely worrying level of explosion and much less anything to indicate the Emissary had blown himself up. Smoke, shrapnel, and something akin to burnt ozone would linger in the air and the brown-haired man is prone on the ground some feet from the workstation he'd stood at. Despite the suggestion of 'fire', there is no sign of soot or ember. An amethyst- one of his purchases- and the fittings of silver that might have suggested a pendant lie in a pile of shards and twisted metal on the surface. Surprisingly not scattered like shrapnel about the room. Nearest guess? A loss of control had created something like matching polarities between the Witch's latent pool and whatever energy had once been present in the destroyed pendant.
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Date: 2021-05-16 01:10 am (UTC)This knowledge did not keep agitation at bay, or lingering deep-set concern that he would have inevitably denied regardless if asked about it. It had not been a pleasant month. The waiting ate at him like little else could, the surity that this place could not truly mark their souls but certainly could inconvenience them only a little consolation against knowing (through the enterprising communication of another deep underground) exactly how high risk it truly was.
And then of course, something like recovery. As biting and acerbic as Lahabrea tended to be, it has been deliberately muted, contending with surges and shocks of foreign emotion and dream as surely and steadily as anything else. Often enough he'd had to rely on the Emissary to maintain even remotely an even keel.. what terrible harm is there in returning the favor? He was not the most comforting, but he could at least be a warm and familiar presence.
These are dreams. Reality, bitter and unwelcome though it is, awaited.
With explosions, apparently.
Not being given to wander about without reason, Lahabrea had for a good part of the day turned his attention to trying, mostly successfully, to work a truly inordinate number of chips of garlic butter and honey beneath the skin of a fat goose, and then arrange it amongst even more chips of butter and honey and cloves of garlic and other spices; he's not near enough to be a distraction but still 'there' nonetheless, if needed, if this strange restlessness broke into something more terrible. Not cwyld, the dragon knew that smell and it had not lingered. But this world had ways of twisting things besides the wyld, and he - far from the ebb and pull of the full moons, as calm and focused as he ever got - glances up at the muffled sound of something exploding, butter-speckled talons pausing their work. He listens, he waits.
There's no surge of agony, no desperate clawing fear or rage. Not yet, not that he can tell. Lahabrea remains where he is for a long few moments, ears perked, until he's certain that isn't about to suddenly change.
Potatos and vegetables are added, then the entire mess slid into the open-hearth oven.
It's only a few minutes, really, before the dragon picks his way delicately to where he knew Elidibus had been working, still drying his hands off on a small towel. He'd learned better, over the course of the last couple of months, how to measure his weight against the floor boards and not leave a constant path of creaking and groaning, but his approach nonetheless is neither completely silent nor even trying to be stealthy.
"Struggling with focus still?"
It's not scorn. The cause of it - the approach of the dark moon - is unknown to him, of course, he's not a witch of this world. But the past events are certainly enough to drive anyone to distraction. "It tastes like resonance, a touch. Are you well?"
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Date: 2021-05-16 04:59 pm (UTC)That would have been... more awkward given what he'd just been doing. The Emissary sighs at the way his thoughts shift as restlessly as his body. He sighs.
'I am fine' is a protest on the tip of Elidibus's tongue. But it's left unspoken since there's little reason to voice a lie and much more to at least give Lahabrea the courtesy of an honest answer. "This body brims with the aether of this star. It seems endless. I reach to weave it into form and function and find there is little rhyme or reason to the flow."
But that is not the issue. Fine control over a power that fluctuates is a problem mortals have. Not ones such as they. And the Bond itself should be making it even easier to control that power; particularly in the matter of enchantment which seems to have been Elidibus's primary focus if one were to consider all the piles of imbued leftovers around the house these days.
Focus is the issue. Which shouldn't be as much of an issue as it obviously is. The borrowed features of the Emissary darken as his thoughts inevitably turn to this. It is... uncomfortable to admit. He begins to approach the desk again. A glance in Lahabrea's direction speaks of an invitation to remain and come closer if desired. Then he waves a hand at the remains of the amulet. "These materials were not strong enough to bear my efforts. When I sought to disperse the unleashed aether, my mind turned instead to thoughts of preservation of my work thus far."
Elidibus definitely sounds very uncomfortable. One might say embarrassed if you could claim the Emissary gets embarrassed.
"...It seems the outcome was to align the enchantment's polarity with what I had gathered to finish the transference. With predictable results." Being knocked back flat on his ass.
And the enchantment.... well, launched off. Somewhere.
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Date: 2021-05-16 07:04 pm (UTC)"Mayhap it would do to vent the excess." He could feel his bondmate's magic levels, fed on them quite literally fairly often, but what it meant from an internal perspective he could only associate with what he knew of the past. Such power was denied him now, of course, but once.. "A suitable pyrotechnics display would likely be enough. Call it an errant celebration for the neighbors to enjoy." All it would do, of course, is waste energy.. but if that was the point? Then all's well, and fine work could be resumed!
He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning on the door frame that barely allowed him passage these days, a faint jingle of some hidden bit of jewelry following the motion. "I have found amethyst to be a poor focus for certain more restrictive forms of aether, from whence we come. Are you attempting fire, or light? I may have a ruby that would suit the touch of flame a little better, and mayhap a metal more conductive than silver. It would not be as appealing to look at, but mayhap in this case form must follow function."
It's ... none of it particularly judgy, as if not only was this a common ordinary occurrence but outright expected. Maybe it is - this is a foreign world after all, but treating it as if it's normal might well ease that skittering of embarrassment he knows isn't his.
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Date: 2021-07-02 10:29 pm (UTC)Hi. You probably aren't looking to hear from me right now, or maybe ever, but I promise I won't take too much of your time.
I just wanted to apologize for behaving so flippantly towards you every time we met. And even, I know, some times we didn't. It took talking to Elidibus and a long time chewing on it to come to that conclusion, but it's not one I would have reached on my own, and that's my own fault. For all the talk of wanting to understand the Ascians, I didn't really try to understand you.
Whether or not we meet again after this, I'll endeavor to do better in the future.