[center][b]Day 69[/b]
[item=Lurching Tome]
[b]Warnings: Being watched; eyes and eye imagery[/b][/center]
Zylen found himself the center of attention the following day.
Another night of poor sleep left him wanting to be alone, but that wasn’t his choice. Not even an hour after breakfast, where the next mission had been assigned, and both Elanor and Jeremiah had joined him. And not long after that, Micah came rushing in. The four of them gathered, they quickly began posing questions to him, some of which he had no idea how to answer.
“Zylen, what’s this about a book about costuming in here? And another about….masks?”
“Why are there mentions about ‘strange’ books?”
“What genres do you think these mentioned books are found under?”
“Didn’t you tell me about a book you found with a name like this one? It seems the director was very interested in the book, as were the traveling theatre troupe he communicated with.”
The prying with almost no time to breathe between them infuriated the Fae. With no room to pause or think or get a full answer out, he clenched his claws and gritted his teeth. And when that broke, he simply pulled out the book they questioned about and threw it on the table they were gathered around. Without another word and ignoring their calls, he located the filed away form on the book and also practically slammed it in front of them. “If you guys want to die like Meir, be my guest. I don’t want anything more to do with this so come to your own damn conclusions.”
And like that he stormed off to his room, grabbing his deceased assistant’s filet from his cabinet. He didn’t waste time fleeing into the manor grounds, locating the hedge maze and finding his spot among the central area within. Perched next to a planter that had since entered full bloom, he felt safe. He felt alone. And he felt unseen.
While the lake always pulled at him when he desired to be by himself, here he felt more naturally comfortable. He could recall his times with Meir fondly here. They weren’t the same forced emotions he had to bring himself to feel anymore when recalling memories of the Mirror. Gently rubbing the gem on the filet, he took deep breaths, composing himself. Feeling tears forming in his eyes, he steeled himself against crying. Not today. Not today.
“Mind if I join you?” It was Howl, the Tundra cautiously peering from the intended entrance to the small courtyard. “I saw you leave in a rush. Understand if you don’t want attention right now.”
Zylen looked into the gemstone in his claws again, fans drooping some. “You’re fine,” he replied, “You won’t question me like the others.”
The Tundra located one of the stone benches adorning the area, lounging in it. “Academia's never been my thing. That’s the word for it, right?”
“Good enough for this conversation.”
“You still miss him that much?” Howl spotted the filet at this point, “We weren’t close, but I know you two were.”
Zylen nodded, fans still low in melancholy and memory, “Even once things started getting strange, he had positivity I don’t see in the others. He knew of the dangers, but approached them with energy and a sort of carelessness the others lack. When he asked questions, it wasn’t about the harm that could come to us, but in search of the answers I’d like. He never asked questions in the sense of wanting answers. They were always extensions of ideas, wanting a second opinion and the like. I don’t feel as if anyone else holds the same approach.”
He sighed, “Sorry, I’m rambling. Clancy’s usually the one to hear these. I think she’s the closest to what I saw in Meir. She’s still skeptical, and her questions reflect that. She’s not clinical in wanting answers to what we find. More wanting to make sure something is anomalous and not easily explained through existing magic. Sure what happened to her has shifted that some, but I prefer her to the others any day.”
“And what about me?” The Tundra looked back expectantly.
Fans raising some, he finally made eye contact with his sole companion, “I assumed you were like Jaxon. The only reason you want to know anything is to help protect us. You don’t care about the missions unless you become a part of them like today.”
He caught the Tundra’s gaze dimming some, a small frown forming on his face. “I know I’m not like the rest of you,” he began, “I’m not the smartest. I was raised to fight, and I do that. I’m good at that. But I [i]do[/i] want to help.” His face twitched, as if contemplating revealing something or not, “Sometimes I find things. [i]Strange[/i] things, but I don’t know if it’s worth telling any of you about them. I tell myself I’m overthinking it. That I found some piece of architecture Clancy can tell me about and don’t realize it. Stuff like that.”
Zylen found himself speechless, unsure how to comfort the Tundra. Howl clearly felt a bit isolated himself, possibly as a result of losing Jaxon. He knew that the guard wouldn’t be able to get answers out of staff, but was also too nervous to ask his coworkers what they thought out of fear of feeling stupid. Everyone else around him was educated in their fields and worked well with others, but Howl? He knew how to fight. How to protect others. How to fend off foes regardless of appearance and skill.
“You’re not dumb,” he eventually responded, “Your knowledge is just in a different place. You can’t read between the lines of a research document or connect some new discovery to past ones, but you can beat each and every one of us in a fight. No contest. [i]That’s[/i] where your knowledge is.”
“Thank you,” the Tundra rose from his spot, “That means a lot. Now, I should get going. I’ll leave you alone so I can prepare.”
“You’re welcome,” Zylen nodded, “Sounds like this has been eating at you for a while. If you need anything, feel free to find me.” He smiled, “I know no one can replace Meir, but I think I’ll enjoy your company a lot more in the future.”
He turned his attention back to the filet after Howl left. His fans dropping once more, “I wish you were here,” he uttered, “I miss you.”
----------------------
Jeremiah was being watched.
He didn’t know from where, and running through the halls in search of an unseen voyeur was growing tiresome. This wasn’t some bump or scurrying caused by the mansion’s pest that left him worried if the creature would emerge from the walls. There was no sign of anyone as he whipped around corners and peered into rooms. No footsteps. No wingbeats. No heavy breaths. Nothing to break the silence aside from his own actions.
Sometimes he’d think he’d spot something in a mirror. In a reflection of a window. A shadow moving down a hall. But this deep into the night he found no one. Not even staff to guide him or reassure him of his suspicions. Eventually he’d pause to listen. To search. Anything to hint him at this ever-present feeling that there was something, somewhere, looking at him.
He whipped around once after a period of stillness, swearing to see something duck behind a corner. Flying up the stairs in hopes of catching up, he only found more of the mansion’s dimly lit halls. He had even bothered with checking the areas he knew were ‘secret’. The small office Zylen told him about, the locked door of the panic room, even the cluttered theatre, but nothing. Finding himself going in circles, he didn’t want to abandon his pursuit, but without anything to find, he blamed it on being tired, turning to retire to his room.
As he returned to the door into his room, he watched as something darted inside. A silhouette of a dragon slipping into the interior. He bolted to the door, cursing as he found it locked. Angry at the uninvited guest, he slammed into it, calling for them to unlock it or he’d be forced to slam it open, unafraid of causing damage. Trying the knob one more time, he found it unlocked, slowly opening it. He wasn’t going to be caught off-guard to an attack.
A quick survey of the room found it empty. The feeling of being watched persisted throughout, but there was still nothing. No one peering from within some hidden spot he could locate. Tired and exhausted, he decided to stop by his personal bathroom. Turning on the light, and the sink, he splashed water across his face, shaking himself some as the cold water relaxed him some. Looking back at his reflection in the mirror, he froze.
His spots.
He was well aware of his markings. Those like a leopard or jaguar in their nature adorning his hide. Small broken circles with dots in some. Only now each and every one of them took on a more oblong shape. And each and every one of them were looking up at him. Into him. Unable to move as he realized the source of the sensation, he watched them blink in unison.
And then the eye on the wall behind him opened.
---------
@Galehaut @TrashMomma @Spectator @megara17 @Jetdrana @CirrusAscending @Tynethyne @Drachenschwinge @nekopallet @MisterMylez
Alright, starting off strong! Here's hoping I can get day 2 for today out before rollover.
To try and keep this short to work on the next one, kinda wanted to focus a bit more on something I realized I didn't before now. A mix of Zylen still actively mourning Meir and why that is, on top of how Howl sorta feels in this entire situation. On top of that, whoops Jeremiah got marked by the Eye, but a new mark was bound to happen eventually.
Sorry to make this section short, I want to get started asap on day 2 so I'm not up [i]too[/i] late. Also, if I get this second day out, it's document update time so more word/page counts, which I always find fun.
There's something strange about this book. If only you could put a talon on it...
53
Warnings: Being watched; eyes and eye imagery
Zylen found himself the center of attention the following day.
Another night of poor sleep left him wanting to be alone, but that wasn’t his choice. Not even an hour after breakfast, where the next mission had been assigned, and both Elanor and Jeremiah had joined him. And not long after that, Micah came rushing in. The four of them gathered, they quickly began posing questions to him, some of which he had no idea how to answer.
“Zylen, what’s this about a book about costuming in here? And another about….masks?”
“Why are there mentions about ‘strange’ books?”
“What genres do you think these mentioned books are found under?”
“Didn’t you tell me about a book you found with a name like this one? It seems the director was very interested in the book, as were the traveling theatre troupe he communicated with.”
The prying with almost no time to breathe between them infuriated the Fae. With no room to pause or think or get a full answer out, he clenched his claws and gritted his teeth. And when that broke, he simply pulled out the book they questioned about and threw it on the table they were gathered around. Without another word and ignoring their calls, he located the filed away form on the book and also practically slammed it in front of them. “If you guys want to die like Meir, be my guest. I don’t want anything more to do with this so come to your own damn conclusions.”
And like that he stormed off to his room, grabbing his deceased assistant’s filet from his cabinet. He didn’t waste time fleeing into the manor grounds, locating the hedge maze and finding his spot among the central area within. Perched next to a planter that had since entered full bloom, he felt safe. He felt alone. And he felt unseen.
While the lake always pulled at him when he desired to be by himself, here he felt more naturally comfortable. He could recall his times with Meir fondly here. They weren’t the same forced emotions he had to bring himself to feel anymore when recalling memories of the Mirror. Gently rubbing the gem on the filet, he took deep breaths, composing himself. Feeling tears forming in his eyes, he steeled himself against crying. Not today. Not today.
“Mind if I join you?” It was Howl, the Tundra cautiously peering from the intended entrance to the small courtyard. “I saw you leave in a rush. Understand if you don’t want attention right now.”
Zylen looked into the gemstone in his claws again, fans drooping some. “You’re fine,” he replied, “You won’t question me like the others.”
The Tundra located one of the stone benches adorning the area, lounging in it. “Academia's never been my thing. That’s the word for it, right?”
“Good enough for this conversation.”
“You still miss him that much?” Howl spotted the filet at this point, “We weren’t close, but I know you two were.”
Zylen nodded, fans still low in melancholy and memory, “Even once things started getting strange, he had positivity I don’t see in the others. He knew of the dangers, but approached them with energy and a sort of carelessness the others lack. When he asked questions, it wasn’t about the harm that could come to us, but in search of the answers I’d like. He never asked questions in the sense of wanting answers. They were always extensions of ideas, wanting a second opinion and the like. I don’t feel as if anyone else holds the same approach.”
He sighed, “Sorry, I’m rambling. Clancy’s usually the one to hear these. I think she’s the closest to what I saw in Meir. She’s still skeptical, and her questions reflect that. She’s not clinical in wanting answers to what we find. More wanting to make sure something is anomalous and not easily explained through existing magic. Sure what happened to her has shifted that some, but I prefer her to the others any day.”
“And what about me?” The Tundra looked back expectantly.
Fans raising some, he finally made eye contact with his sole companion, “I assumed you were like Jaxon. The only reason you want to know anything is to help protect us. You don’t care about the missions unless you become a part of them like today.”
He caught the Tundra’s gaze dimming some, a small frown forming on his face. “I know I’m not like the rest of you,” he began, “I’m not the smartest. I was raised to fight, and I do that. I’m good at that. But I do want to help.” His face twitched, as if contemplating revealing something or not, “Sometimes I find things. Strange things, but I don’t know if it’s worth telling any of you about them. I tell myself I’m overthinking it. That I found some piece of architecture Clancy can tell me about and don’t realize it. Stuff like that.”
Zylen found himself speechless, unsure how to comfort the Tundra. Howl clearly felt a bit isolated himself, possibly as a result of losing Jaxon. He knew that the guard wouldn’t be able to get answers out of staff, but was also too nervous to ask his coworkers what they thought out of fear of feeling stupid. Everyone else around him was educated in their fields and worked well with others, but Howl? He knew how to fight. How to protect others. How to fend off foes regardless of appearance and skill.
“You’re not dumb,” he eventually responded, “Your knowledge is just in a different place. You can’t read between the lines of a research document or connect some new discovery to past ones, but you can beat each and every one of us in a fight. No contest. That’s where your knowledge is.”
“Thank you,” the Tundra rose from his spot, “That means a lot. Now, I should get going. I’ll leave you alone so I can prepare.”
“You’re welcome,” Zylen nodded, “Sounds like this has been eating at you for a while. If you need anything, feel free to find me.” He smiled, “I know no one can replace Meir, but I think I’ll enjoy your company a lot more in the future.”
He turned his attention back to the filet after Howl left. His fans dropping once more, “I wish you were here,” he uttered, “I miss you.”
Jeremiah was being watched.
He didn’t know from where, and running through the halls in search of an unseen voyeur was growing tiresome. This wasn’t some bump or scurrying caused by the mansion’s pest that left him worried if the creature would emerge from the walls. There was no sign of anyone as he whipped around corners and peered into rooms. No footsteps. No wingbeats. No heavy breaths. Nothing to break the silence aside from his own actions.
Sometimes he’d think he’d spot something in a mirror. In a reflection of a window. A shadow moving down a hall. But this deep into the night he found no one. Not even staff to guide him or reassure him of his suspicions. Eventually he’d pause to listen. To search. Anything to hint him at this ever-present feeling that there was something, somewhere, looking at him.
He whipped around once after a period of stillness, swearing to see something duck behind a corner. Flying up the stairs in hopes of catching up, he only found more of the mansion’s dimly lit halls. He had even bothered with checking the areas he knew were ‘secret’. The small office Zylen told him about, the locked door of the panic room, even the cluttered theatre, but nothing. Finding himself going in circles, he didn’t want to abandon his pursuit, but without anything to find, he blamed it on being tired, turning to retire to his room.
As he returned to the door into his room, he watched as something darted inside. A silhouette of a dragon slipping into the interior. He bolted to the door, cursing as he found it locked. Angry at the uninvited guest, he slammed into it, calling for them to unlock it or he’d be forced to slam it open, unafraid of causing damage. Trying the knob one more time, he found it unlocked, slowly opening it. He wasn’t going to be caught off-guard to an attack.
A quick survey of the room found it empty. The feeling of being watched persisted throughout, but there was still nothing. No one peering from within some hidden spot he could locate. Tired and exhausted, he decided to stop by his personal bathroom. Turning on the light, and the sink, he splashed water across his face, shaking himself some as the cold water relaxed him some. Looking back at his reflection in the mirror, he froze.
His spots.
He was well aware of his markings. Those like a leopard or jaguar in their nature adorning his hide. Small broken circles with dots in some. Only now each and every one of them took on a more oblong shape. And each and every one of them were looking up at him. Into him. Unable to move as he realized the source of the sensation, he watched them blink in unison.
Alright, starting off strong! Here's hoping I can get day 2 for today out before rollover.
To try and keep this short to work on the next one, kinda wanted to focus a bit more on something I realized I didn't before now. A mix of Zylen still actively mourning Meir and why that is, on top of how Howl sorta feels in this entire situation. On top of that, whoops Jeremiah got marked by the Eye, but a new mark was bound to happen eventually.
Sorry to make this section short, I want to get started asap on day 2 so I'm not up too late. Also, if I get this second day out, it's document update time so more word/page counts, which I always find fun.
[center][b]Day 70[/b]
[item=Simple Darksteel Bracelets][/center]
Only Jeremiah bothered Zylen the next day. Leaving the Fae to continue his cataloguing in peace and quiet, his actions yesterday appeared to have deterred the others from interfering. And based on interactions during breakfast and lunch, for good reason. Elanor appeared disoriented, looking quizzically at others a few moments as if attempting to recall some memory before relaxing and enjoying food as usual. The Fae didn’t need to hear from the others she’d bothered looking into the book from yesterday. She was lucky to be alive.
After lunch, the Fae spent most of his day cleaning up a mess of books. The shelf they had been placed on was one he had yet to catalogue, located in the Education section he greatly dreaded organizing when he got to it. Finding some of their covers sporting fresh gouges, he quickly concluded that the mess was caused by the pest in the mansion’s walls. Confused, but happy the critter bothered the books instead of a member of staff or one of his coworkers, he got to work returning them to the shelves.
Keeping them alphabetized the best he could, he stumbled into another one of the strange titles he had been collecting. Unable to make out the faded words on the front, he opened to find the hefty book appeared to be an old psychology textbook. However, the subtitle of the textbook revealed the more sinister nature behind it. [i]Cracks in the Mind: How to Open and Exploit Them[/i] read as if it were about manipulation, but as he turned to the table of contents and read through them, he found it was as if they ‘spoke’ to him.
He shut the cover as he read, “[i]Choosing your [b]Real[/b] Name,[/i]” not bothering with a second look as he beelined for the cabinet. Locating it’s documentation paper, he filled out the missing information before filing the sheet away with the others. Taking a break, he recomposed himself, shaking away the residual fear after seeing the contents target him like that.
It was around this time that Jeremiah squeezed his way into the Fae’s small office space, wearing concern plainly across his face. “Doing better today? I convinced the others not to follow you.” He paused, “Sadly can’t say the same for the book. Elanor couldn’t remember her name and tried to kill the two of us anytime we tried to get near her most of the day. Didn’t even think she was capable of such acts.”
“I warned you about the book,” Zylen replied coldly. “I don’t even know what the three of you want with the damn thing.”
“That’s why I came alone today. Care to join me at a table?”
He huffed, “Fine. I’ll look through everything this time. Just don’t throw questions at me like I suddenly have all the answers for being the librarian.”
This time, he was greeted by a much neater display of documents. As if telling a story, Jeremiah pushed them towards him in a specific order, allowing the small dragon to read them at his own pace. The first were a collection of order papers specifically in regards to some specific pieces of music, [i]Masks For Your Masks[/i], and one other book he had yet to locate by the name of [i]Choreography of the Average Dragon[/i]. The second was a stack of notes hand-picked by the Banescale from his search into the correspondence he covered. Almost exclusively composed of letters of gratitude from the traveling theatre group, they thanked the director for allowing them to borrow and hold various items, with one exception.
As he read [i]Masks For Your Masks[/i] once again, he noticed the tone in the writing was significantly darker. The writer demanded why they were now denied the book they had borrowed without consequence before. The book being a priceless tool for teaching new members how to act and perform in the past. And, as Zylen reached its conclusion, one that may have belonged to one of the founding members of the group once upon a time. “This book is not [u]yours[/u]. None of those books were ever [u]yours[/u]. You’ve made a mistake today. One that’s made an enemy of a former ally,” it concluded, with no name given for the sender. Only the title of “Stagemaster” as it had been across all the other letters.
Finally, the third stack, likely a mix of Elanor and Jeremiah discussing their findings. What started as pleasant conversation between the theatre director and the librarian at the time, surprisingly not Iris but a Reef Tidewalker. The letters from the librarian discussed the infrequent request for [i]Masks For Your Masks[/i] by the troupe, stating suspicion but no concern for the book’s safety as it had always been returned on time prior. As time passed however, Torrent grew worried about the book, stating it had “changed” and that she worried what the troupe had done to it. She requested the group be forbidden from accessing it, and comparing the dates, the passive aggressive letter from the “Stagemaster” arrived a few days later.
“We have found no letters from the group or a Reef Tidewalker past this point. Elanor also can’t locate Reef in the archives, suggesting the entirety of her employment was also from Darryn’s time as archivist.” Catching Zylen up, the Ancient continued, “Micah confirmed the lending of the book during this time as well, also stopping after Reef’s final letter. He also located a couple receipts for other books requested by the troupe, which Elanor and I were able to confirm the existence of. We’re unsure if they’re as anomalous or even located within the library still, as some do not have been returned. If they have, we have no documentation of this.”
He sighed, “I was hoping you’d find the safe combination in all of this, but I suppose I can go looking for the books. Give me a list and I’ll see if I’ve already catalogued them or not. Otherwise I don’t know if and when I’ll be able to get them to you.” Lowering his fans some, he glared at the Banescale, “And from now on, listen when I warn you against reading a book. I have these separated for a reason.”
Jeremiah nodded in acknowledgement, “Of course. Elanor more than the rest of us.”
Returning to his work, Zylen spent close to an hour attempting to find the list given to him. Only locating one, [i]Costuming Tricks for Beginners[/i], he set it aside to hand over at dinner. The rest were unable to be found, forcing him to add them to his “undiscovered books” section. He hoped these were simply misplaced or missing and not anomalous as hinted at.
He was surprised to see Howl and Clancy back so early, but both looked a little rough. Both sporting burns and a fair portion of the Tundra’s mane singed, they were clearly exhausted, slowly making their way through their meals. Neither said a word, even after Micah’s prying about wondering when they’d be able to report to him. The Veilspun was silenced as Howl turned and growled at him, fur bristling as another sign of wanting to be left alone.
Jeremiah did his best to fill the Fae in on what happened, “Apollyon got the relic from them about an hour ago. Looked like some sort of obsidian figurine. Couldn’t make out the dragon breed, but it was surrounded in fire. Told me and Elanor that it was warm to the touch but wasn’t a threat. At least, not currently or in its current state or something like that. He quickly filled out a form for it, as well as some secondary form he handed to one of the couriers. I asked him what that was about but he refused to elaborate.”
“Any idea what happened to the two of them?” Zylen gestured to his injured coworkers.
“Well, my first thought was the supposed shrine Saile wanted them to visit. Perhaps it wasn’t abandoned like he noted? If they were taking a coveted artifact of a clan and didn’t realize, it would make sense if they were attacked. However,” the Banescale paused to take a bite of his food, left largely ignored by the conversation. “However, if Apollyon holds concern for what they found, it may be that. Maybe even the shrine itself if it were trapped for some reason. I’m sure the two will fill us in in the coming days.”
“If you say so,” Zylen shrugged, playing with a portion of his own food, “I guess if they’re safe that’s what matters most.”
There was a sudden stillness in the air as Clancy bolted upright, staring in horror at her braced arm. What started as nearly inaudible, “Nos” of disbelief quickly rose to full-on shouts of panic as the Pearlcatcher clawed at the limb. Terrified, she ran towards the direction of the infirmary, Mariela pursuing after her. The dining hall remained silent the rest of dinner, no one daring to question what had transpired.
As Zylen lay in bed that night, he was left thinking about the historian. She had been so composed since she had ‘fed’ herself. Doing her best to keep herself clean and presentable despite the condition around her arm. Even when she slipped thinking of an amputation being of help, she had bounced back soon after, his words soothing her. So, after an exhausting, but successful mission, what had happened? What happened to cause her to shriek in raw fear?
He shuddered, knowing it likely revolved around Clancy’s arm.. Whatever it was, it would keep him up tonight. Not because of his own concerns towards the Pearlcatcher. Instead, he looked in at himself.
When would such things happen to him?
---------
@Galehaut @TrashMomma @Spectator @megara17 @Jetdrana @CirrusAscending @Tynethyne @Drachenschwinge @nekopallet @MisterMylez
Aaaaand post 2 of 2 for tonight! And before rollover too! Micah has trinket mark immunity for tomorrow's pull.
There was a lot that happened today. [i]Technically[/i] there's been another mark, but I'll properly reveal that tomorrow as I don't want to make this writing even longer. I wanted to better show more with this theatre troupe, as well as have the two return from a rather quick mission, so that left little room for me to write another nightmare. [s]Also, this mark is more physical one and those work better if they're shown rather than having a nightmare attached to them.[/s]
Anyways, looking forward to tomorrow, and here's the document update!
[img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/537779856474243072/874171672704462928/Screen_Shot_2021-08-09_at_2.05.48_AM.png[/img]
The perfect complement to any outfit, these darksteel bracelets seem to absorb the light.
500
Only Jeremiah bothered Zylen the next day. Leaving the Fae to continue his cataloguing in peace and quiet, his actions yesterday appeared to have deterred the others from interfering. And based on interactions during breakfast and lunch, for good reason. Elanor appeared disoriented, looking quizzically at others a few moments as if attempting to recall some memory before relaxing and enjoying food as usual. The Fae didn’t need to hear from the others she’d bothered looking into the book from yesterday. She was lucky to be alive.
After lunch, the Fae spent most of his day cleaning up a mess of books. The shelf they had been placed on was one he had yet to catalogue, located in the Education section he greatly dreaded organizing when he got to it. Finding some of their covers sporting fresh gouges, he quickly concluded that the mess was caused by the pest in the mansion’s walls. Confused, but happy the critter bothered the books instead of a member of staff or one of his coworkers, he got to work returning them to the shelves.
Keeping them alphabetized the best he could, he stumbled into another one of the strange titles he had been collecting. Unable to make out the faded words on the front, he opened to find the hefty book appeared to be an old psychology textbook. However, the subtitle of the textbook revealed the more sinister nature behind it. Cracks in the Mind: How to Open and Exploit Them read as if it were about manipulation, but as he turned to the table of contents and read through them, he found it was as if they ‘spoke’ to him.
He shut the cover as he read, “Choosing your Real Name,” not bothering with a second look as he beelined for the cabinet. Locating it’s documentation paper, he filled out the missing information before filing the sheet away with the others. Taking a break, he recomposed himself, shaking away the residual fear after seeing the contents target him like that.
It was around this time that Jeremiah squeezed his way into the Fae’s small office space, wearing concern plainly across his face. “Doing better today? I convinced the others not to follow you.” He paused, “Sadly can’t say the same for the book. Elanor couldn’t remember her name and tried to kill the two of us anytime we tried to get near her most of the day. Didn’t even think she was capable of such acts.”
“I warned you about the book,” Zylen replied coldly. “I don’t even know what the three of you want with the damn thing.”
“That’s why I came alone today. Care to join me at a table?”
He huffed, “Fine. I’ll look through everything this time. Just don’t throw questions at me like I suddenly have all the answers for being the librarian.”
This time, he was greeted by a much neater display of documents. As if telling a story, Jeremiah pushed them towards him in a specific order, allowing the small dragon to read them at his own pace. The first were a collection of order papers specifically in regards to some specific pieces of music, Masks For Your Masks, and one other book he had yet to locate by the name of Choreography of the Average Dragon. The second was a stack of notes hand-picked by the Banescale from his search into the correspondence he covered. Almost exclusively composed of letters of gratitude from the traveling theatre group, they thanked the director for allowing them to borrow and hold various items, with one exception.
As he read Masks For Your Masks once again, he noticed the tone in the writing was significantly darker. The writer demanded why they were now denied the book they had borrowed without consequence before. The book being a priceless tool for teaching new members how to act and perform in the past. And, as Zylen reached its conclusion, one that may have belonged to one of the founding members of the group once upon a time. “This book is not yours. None of those books were ever yours. You’ve made a mistake today. One that’s made an enemy of a former ally,” it concluded, with no name given for the sender. Only the title of “Stagemaster” as it had been across all the other letters.
Finally, the third stack, likely a mix of Elanor and Jeremiah discussing their findings. What started as pleasant conversation between the theatre director and the librarian at the time, surprisingly not Iris but a Reef Tidewalker. The letters from the librarian discussed the infrequent request for Masks For Your Masks by the troupe, stating suspicion but no concern for the book’s safety as it had always been returned on time prior. As time passed however, Torrent grew worried about the book, stating it had “changed” and that she worried what the troupe had done to it. She requested the group be forbidden from accessing it, and comparing the dates, the passive aggressive letter from the “Stagemaster” arrived a few days later.
“We have found no letters from the group or a Reef Tidewalker past this point. Elanor also can’t locate Reef in the archives, suggesting the entirety of her employment was also from Darryn’s time as archivist.” Catching Zylen up, the Ancient continued, “Micah confirmed the lending of the book during this time as well, also stopping after Reef’s final letter. He also located a couple receipts for other books requested by the troupe, which Elanor and I were able to confirm the existence of. We’re unsure if they’re as anomalous or even located within the library still, as some do not have been returned. If they have, we have no documentation of this.”
He sighed, “I was hoping you’d find the safe combination in all of this, but I suppose I can go looking for the books. Give me a list and I’ll see if I’ve already catalogued them or not. Otherwise I don’t know if and when I’ll be able to get them to you.” Lowering his fans some, he glared at the Banescale, “And from now on, listen when I warn you against reading a book. I have these separated for a reason.”
Jeremiah nodded in acknowledgement, “Of course. Elanor more than the rest of us.”
Returning to his work, Zylen spent close to an hour attempting to find the list given to him. Only locating one, Costuming Tricks for Beginners, he set it aside to hand over at dinner. The rest were unable to be found, forcing him to add them to his “undiscovered books” section. He hoped these were simply misplaced or missing and not anomalous as hinted at.
He was surprised to see Howl and Clancy back so early, but both looked a little rough. Both sporting burns and a fair portion of the Tundra’s mane singed, they were clearly exhausted, slowly making their way through their meals. Neither said a word, even after Micah’s prying about wondering when they’d be able to report to him. The Veilspun was silenced as Howl turned and growled at him, fur bristling as another sign of wanting to be left alone.
Jeremiah did his best to fill the Fae in on what happened, “Apollyon got the relic from them about an hour ago. Looked like some sort of obsidian figurine. Couldn’t make out the dragon breed, but it was surrounded in fire. Told me and Elanor that it was warm to the touch but wasn’t a threat. At least, not currently or in its current state or something like that. He quickly filled out a form for it, as well as some secondary form he handed to one of the couriers. I asked him what that was about but he refused to elaborate.”
“Any idea what happened to the two of them?” Zylen gestured to his injured coworkers.
“Well, my first thought was the supposed shrine Saile wanted them to visit. Perhaps it wasn’t abandoned like he noted? If they were taking a coveted artifact of a clan and didn’t realize, it would make sense if they were attacked. However,” the Banescale paused to take a bite of his food, left largely ignored by the conversation. “However, if Apollyon holds concern for what they found, it may be that. Maybe even the shrine itself if it were trapped for some reason. I’m sure the two will fill us in in the coming days.”
“If you say so,” Zylen shrugged, playing with a portion of his own food, “I guess if they’re safe that’s what matters most.”
There was a sudden stillness in the air as Clancy bolted upright, staring in horror at her braced arm. What started as nearly inaudible, “Nos” of disbelief quickly rose to full-on shouts of panic as the Pearlcatcher clawed at the limb. Terrified, she ran towards the direction of the infirmary, Mariela pursuing after her. The dining hall remained silent the rest of dinner, no one daring to question what had transpired.
As Zylen lay in bed that night, he was left thinking about the historian. She had been so composed since she had ‘fed’ herself. Doing her best to keep herself clean and presentable despite the condition around her arm. Even when she slipped thinking of an amputation being of help, she had bounced back soon after, his words soothing her. So, after an exhausting, but successful mission, what had happened? What happened to cause her to shriek in raw fear?
He shuddered, knowing it likely revolved around Clancy’s arm.. Whatever it was, it would keep him up tonight. Not because of his own concerns towards the Pearlcatcher. Instead, he looked in at himself.
Aaaaand post 2 of 2 for tonight! And before rollover too! Micah has trinket mark immunity for tomorrow's pull.
There was a lot that happened today. Technically there's been another mark, but I'll properly reveal that tomorrow as I don't want to make this writing even longer. I wanted to better show more with this theatre troupe, as well as have the two return from a rather quick mission, so that left little room for me to write another nightmare. Also, this mark is more physical one and those work better if they're shown rather than having a nightmare attached to them.
Anyways, looking forward to tomorrow, and here's the document update!
[center][b]Day 71[/b]
[item=Leon Mask]
[b]Warnings: Gore, dismemberment, mutilation, mass death, blood, impalement[/b][/center]
Apollyon came crashing into the library that day. Excitement in his energized eyes, he nearly ran into Zylen, holding up a page he recognized as a relic form. “I found it!” he exclaimed, “I found the pest!”
Paper thrust into his claws, the Fae took a moment to read it over. At first all he read was that the object was a twig-covered egg recovered from a mushroom grove. However, addendum after addendum revealed that at some point it hatched. While the creature kept within the twigs it was born into, bits and pieces of it began to poke out. Described questionably as a grub, further observation saw it feeding on mushrooms, branching out to anything edible as it grew larger. Constantly adding onto the twig ‘shell’ as it did so. When denied more twigs, it attached paper, wood chips, strings and cloth, and even quills to itself, secreting a sticky saliva to decompose and secure them.
The last of the notes stated the creature had escaped confinement and had never been located despite a many-week long search. Assuming it had escaped outside the mansion, the file was ‘closed’ to alterations, only allowed to be open to future notes if the creature was located. There were photographs of the egg and the ‘grub’ clipped to the file, which while good to have, did little with identifying what may be laying underneath the doll now inhabited by the now-grown creature. At least this confirmed they were insectoid in some fashion.
Now informed, Apollyon left Zylen alone, scouring shelves for any further research that may help him further learn about the pest in their walls. He watched the Spiral for a bit before returning to cataloguing, unsure if he’d be approached a second time. If the elongated dragon couldn’t locate the section he was after, he’d be informed of it.
It wasn’t until Zylen found himself approached by Howl and Clancy that he realized that his previous guest had left. The two looked much better than the day prior, Clancy’s brace polished clean, and Howl’s mane trimmed to better match where it had been burned. Taking a seat, the two gestured for the small dragon to take his time, starting a quiet conversation among each other while they waited. Finishing the current shelf, he looked over his notes for mistakes, joining them soon after.
“So, wanting to catch me up on the mission or are you here for another reason?” Zylen lowered his fans in suspicion, “Clancy, I know you. You don’t go running off like that for no reason.”
The Pearlcatcher swallowed nervously, eyes widening as she was caught, “That….That’s for [i]after[/i] the mission talk.” She pulled her braced arm closer to her chest. “Please. It’s better we discuss this first.”
“Alright,” Zylen let out a sigh, “So, what are you here to tell me about.”
“Nothing much,” Howl chimed in, “This is about the relic. Not our trip to recover it.”
“Oh,” his fans were perked with his interest, “So you weren’t attacked or chased?”
The Tundra shook his head, “No. We weren’t even threatened. The shrine was hidden, and we only knew where thanks to the clan.”
With a side-eye as a cue, Clancy spoke up, “The shrine was ancient. Carved from a large block of granite with largely eroded engravings, and possibly adorned with heat resistant metal at one point. Looking at the figurine, I assumed the shrine was dedicated to Flamecaller by Banescales from before the war in the Southern Icefield that would lead to the disappearance of their kind. But the iconography I could make out on the shrine itself didn’t align with what we do know of this time period.”
“I had attempted to gather a sketch of the engravings when I activated [i]something[/i]. All I heard was Howl calling my name before I grabbed the figurine and dropped it, met with searing pain the instant I did. Howl cried in pain as he held onto it, but refused to drop it. We sprinted back the direction we came, an intense feeling of heat and tongues of spreading fire nearly as fast as we were. At one point Howl tripped, beckoning I continue on and not worry about him.”
“I reached the clan first, daring to look back where I came. I saw nothing that even hinted at there being a fire, let alone one as intense as what I felt on my flank. Howl arrived not long after, breathing heavily and covered in soot and singed fur. We spent an hour recovering before returning here. Hoped to eat dinner and then have Mariela check out the damage.” She rubbed her braced arm, gaze going back and forth between it and Zylen.
Howl held out a bandaged claw, “Got some bad burns, but should heal up fine. Have to make sure Doctor Thairn assesses it daily, but we caught it early enough for some damage to be healed with magic.”
“And you?” Zylen stared back at Clancy, fans lowered in intense concern, “What happened to you?”
Claw shaky as the Pearlcatcher extended it, the Fae caught sight of the rough dressings for the braced limb. Gingerly undoing the handiwork, she let out a heavy sigh, “This speaks louder than any words I can use.” As layers were peeled away, he was greeted to the sight of her claw, burned and slightly torn. Only under the cuts….
“That’s….” he began, staring at exposed metal where the red of a wound should be. Fans dropping more, his heart did as well, “That’s how bad the invasion is, isn’t it?”
Clancy began to redress the room, voice now devoid of any real emotion. She was lost, “Mariela is going to check it out in-depth after this meeting. If it’s worse than she initially thought, amputation is out of the question.”
“Does….Does it still [i]feel[/i] normal?” he questioned, trying to redirect her concerns.
She swallowed before nodding slowly, “I had no idea this was happening. Sure there’s always been a half-numb feeling around the brace but I thought if it invaded there would be more pain. This...This almost feels natural. And I don’t know if that makes this better or worse.”
“Well,” he raised his fans some, trying to look more positive than his next words, “Means that it’s probably a part of you. Not some terminal threat to your life.”
Striking some sort of nerve, Clancy didn’t say anything. Instead her face contorted to one of sudden anger and rage, fury burning in her eyes. Slamming a fist on the table, she stood up, storming off without another word. He knew the words were likely not to resonate well with her. But again, she needed to hear them. Whatever was going on, her brace was becoming a part of her. And she needed to accept that or she’d lose herself to it in more than a physical sense.
He’d only hope that would happen before it was too late.
------------------------
This was a battlefield.
Thorn had seen many in his time. Never participated, but he’d served as a field doctor on more than one occasion. He’d search for survivors, or help dress and treat those in the tents. The stench of blood was thick in the air as he moved about, he once again kept his eyes peeled. Here, not all bodies lay still. Some would still fight here, even with no more foes to combat them.
As he continued on, he grew weary of finding any survivors. The deeper he delved, the more severe and brutal the carnage. What started as stab wounds at the vitals devolved into messy shredding as honed skill shifted into brute force. Then he spotted broken weapons and armor, cast aside as useless as these fighters became victim to tooth and claw. Ripping and tearing into scales, feathers, fur, and flesh. He’d spot loose patches of these time after time, blood-soaked skin spat out so the attacker could lunge again.
On and on the bloodsoaked ground carried on. There were pools of spilt blood now. Dismembered limbs and gaping holes where there shouldn’t be. Organs pulled out and cast aside from bodies as if scooped by massive claws. Bodies of soldiers mangled into unrecognizability. He’d never seen the body of a single dragon torn into like what filled the scene in front of him. Let alone the neverending field before him filled with countless fallen. This was no longer an honorable fight to the death. A fight between two sides. This was senseless violence as dragons ripped and tore into each other, not stopping when the opponent’s breathing did.
Eventually he heard it. Ragged, heavy breathing. The sound of blood splashing as irregular, weighted steps crashed into it. The quiet but determined growl from behind. The burning determination and rage behind the one remaining eye of the limping soldier. His armor stained red and shattered, barely hanging from his body. The laugh, slow and maniacal as he spotted the Fae.
“One more contestant,” it rasped, another hollow laugh escaping its hanging jaws.
With frightening speed the dragon lunged at Thorn, knocking him aside into the pooled blood. Without a chance to catch his breath, he found the jagged end of a broken sword impaled in his chest. Gasping for air, the soldier tore at his wings, his fans, his limbs, ripping him piece by piece.
“ONE MORE VICTORY!” It shouted, “ONE MORE SACRIFICE! I WILL BE FREE! [i]I WILL BE FREE! I WILL-[/i]”
Thorn shot up in his bed, action cracking his aging bones. Breaths rapid, he spent an unknown amount of time calming himself. Such nightmares were why he’d never considered being a mage soldier for the clan. The horrors were too much for him. Stretching out the residual pain from the nightmare, he moved to the bathroom, filling a small watering can within. Moving to the planter in his window, he cautiously watered the plants within. He didn’t need to overwater them, but he also needed something to ease his mind. This would do.
-------------
@Galehaut @TrashMomma @Spectator @megara17 @Jetdrana @CirrusAscending @Tynethyne @Drachenschwinge @nekopallet @MisterMylez
So, ignoring how graphic the Slaughter is, and poor Thorn being the one subject to it, a lot of stuff got revealed today.
First, Howl has been marked by the Desolation as a [i]lore[/i] mark. I've decided lore marks will not come with nightmare sequences unless it would make sense to. There's also been a fun development involving Clancy's....evolution. Finally, Apollyon made his first discovery on the pest! I can finally explain this little mechanic now!
Today marks roll 1 of 3 of Apollyon discovering something important about the pest. For reference, all other rolls for this table I use relate to the pest's actions, with one reserved for these 'discoveries'. Once all three are made, a small countdown will begin that will end in a final confrontation with the pest. The outcome of which will be determined by how long it takes for this requirement to be met, as well as other actions taken by the pest during this time.
Finally, about dang time we get some marks back in the crew. After the last death I lost the last dragon that had one. It's good to have three dragons with fresh marks now. By the way, Zylen and Clancy have to get [i]lore[/i] marks that are [i]physical in nature[/i] now in order for any to count. Therefore they are no longer in the rolling roster for picking marks. [s]It's a small side rule that I don't want to flesh out into a full rule. Don't worry about it.[/s]
Warnings: Gore, dismemberment, mutilation, mass death, blood, impalement
Apollyon came crashing into the library that day. Excitement in his energized eyes, he nearly ran into Zylen, holding up a page he recognized as a relic form. “I found it!” he exclaimed, “I found the pest!”
Paper thrust into his claws, the Fae took a moment to read it over. At first all he read was that the object was a twig-covered egg recovered from a mushroom grove. However, addendum after addendum revealed that at some point it hatched. While the creature kept within the twigs it was born into, bits and pieces of it began to poke out. Described questionably as a grub, further observation saw it feeding on mushrooms, branching out to anything edible as it grew larger. Constantly adding onto the twig ‘shell’ as it did so. When denied more twigs, it attached paper, wood chips, strings and cloth, and even quills to itself, secreting a sticky saliva to decompose and secure them.
The last of the notes stated the creature had escaped confinement and had never been located despite a many-week long search. Assuming it had escaped outside the mansion, the file was ‘closed’ to alterations, only allowed to be open to future notes if the creature was located. There were photographs of the egg and the ‘grub’ clipped to the file, which while good to have, did little with identifying what may be laying underneath the doll now inhabited by the now-grown creature. At least this confirmed they were insectoid in some fashion.
Now informed, Apollyon left Zylen alone, scouring shelves for any further research that may help him further learn about the pest in their walls. He watched the Spiral for a bit before returning to cataloguing, unsure if he’d be approached a second time. If the elongated dragon couldn’t locate the section he was after, he’d be informed of it.
It wasn’t until Zylen found himself approached by Howl and Clancy that he realized that his previous guest had left. The two looked much better than the day prior, Clancy’s brace polished clean, and Howl’s mane trimmed to better match where it had been burned. Taking a seat, the two gestured for the small dragon to take his time, starting a quiet conversation among each other while they waited. Finishing the current shelf, he looked over his notes for mistakes, joining them soon after.
“So, wanting to catch me up on the mission or are you here for another reason?” Zylen lowered his fans in suspicion, “Clancy, I know you. You don’t go running off like that for no reason.”
The Pearlcatcher swallowed nervously, eyes widening as she was caught, “That….That’s for after the mission talk.” She pulled her braced arm closer to her chest. “Please. It’s better we discuss this first.”
“Alright,” Zylen let out a sigh, “So, what are you here to tell me about.”
“Nothing much,” Howl chimed in, “This is about the relic. Not our trip to recover it.”
“Oh,” his fans were perked with his interest, “So you weren’t attacked or chased?”
The Tundra shook his head, “No. We weren’t even threatened. The shrine was hidden, and we only knew where thanks to the clan.”
With a side-eye as a cue, Clancy spoke up, “The shrine was ancient. Carved from a large block of granite with largely eroded engravings, and possibly adorned with heat resistant metal at one point. Looking at the figurine, I assumed the shrine was dedicated to Flamecaller by Banescales from before the war in the Southern Icefield that would lead to the disappearance of their kind. But the iconography I could make out on the shrine itself didn’t align with what we do know of this time period.”
“I had attempted to gather a sketch of the engravings when I activated something. All I heard was Howl calling my name before I grabbed the figurine and dropped it, met with searing pain the instant I did. Howl cried in pain as he held onto it, but refused to drop it. We sprinted back the direction we came, an intense feeling of heat and tongues of spreading fire nearly as fast as we were. At one point Howl tripped, beckoning I continue on and not worry about him.”
“I reached the clan first, daring to look back where I came. I saw nothing that even hinted at there being a fire, let alone one as intense as what I felt on my flank. Howl arrived not long after, breathing heavily and covered in soot and singed fur. We spent an hour recovering before returning here. Hoped to eat dinner and then have Mariela check out the damage.” She rubbed her braced arm, gaze going back and forth between it and Zylen.
Howl held out a bandaged claw, “Got some bad burns, but should heal up fine. Have to make sure Doctor Thairn assesses it daily, but we caught it early enough for some damage to be healed with magic.”
“And you?” Zylen stared back at Clancy, fans lowered in intense concern, “What happened to you?”
Claw shaky as the Pearlcatcher extended it, the Fae caught sight of the rough dressings for the braced limb. Gingerly undoing the handiwork, she let out a heavy sigh, “This speaks louder than any words I can use.” As layers were peeled away, he was greeted to the sight of her claw, burned and slightly torn. Only under the cuts….
“That’s….” he began, staring at exposed metal where the red of a wound should be. Fans dropping more, his heart did as well, “That’s how bad the invasion is, isn’t it?”
Clancy began to redress the room, voice now devoid of any real emotion. She was lost, “Mariela is going to check it out in-depth after this meeting. If it’s worse than she initially thought, amputation is out of the question.”
“Does….Does it still feel normal?” he questioned, trying to redirect her concerns.
She swallowed before nodding slowly, “I had no idea this was happening. Sure there’s always been a half-numb feeling around the brace but I thought if it invaded there would be more pain. This...This almost feels natural. And I don’t know if that makes this better or worse.”
“Well,” he raised his fans some, trying to look more positive than his next words, “Means that it’s probably a part of you. Not some terminal threat to your life.”
Striking some sort of nerve, Clancy didn’t say anything. Instead her face contorted to one of sudden anger and rage, fury burning in her eyes. Slamming a fist on the table, she stood up, storming off without another word. He knew the words were likely not to resonate well with her. But again, she needed to hear them. Whatever was going on, her brace was becoming a part of her. And she needed to accept that or she’d lose herself to it in more than a physical sense.
He’d only hope that would happen before it was too late.
This was a battlefield.
Thorn had seen many in his time. Never participated, but he’d served as a field doctor on more than one occasion. He’d search for survivors, or help dress and treat those in the tents. The stench of blood was thick in the air as he moved about, he once again kept his eyes peeled. Here, not all bodies lay still. Some would still fight here, even with no more foes to combat them.
As he continued on, he grew weary of finding any survivors. The deeper he delved, the more severe and brutal the carnage. What started as stab wounds at the vitals devolved into messy shredding as honed skill shifted into brute force. Then he spotted broken weapons and armor, cast aside as useless as these fighters became victim to tooth and claw. Ripping and tearing into scales, feathers, fur, and flesh. He’d spot loose patches of these time after time, blood-soaked skin spat out so the attacker could lunge again.
On and on the bloodsoaked ground carried on. There were pools of spilt blood now. Dismembered limbs and gaping holes where there shouldn’t be. Organs pulled out and cast aside from bodies as if scooped by massive claws. Bodies of soldiers mangled into unrecognizability. He’d never seen the body of a single dragon torn into like what filled the scene in front of him. Let alone the neverending field before him filled with countless fallen. This was no longer an honorable fight to the death. A fight between two sides. This was senseless violence as dragons ripped and tore into each other, not stopping when the opponent’s breathing did.
Eventually he heard it. Ragged, heavy breathing. The sound of blood splashing as irregular, weighted steps crashed into it. The quiet but determined growl from behind. The burning determination and rage behind the one remaining eye of the limping soldier. His armor stained red and shattered, barely hanging from his body. The laugh, slow and maniacal as he spotted the Fae.
“One more contestant,” it rasped, another hollow laugh escaping its hanging jaws.
With frightening speed the dragon lunged at Thorn, knocking him aside into the pooled blood. Without a chance to catch his breath, he found the jagged end of a broken sword impaled in his chest. Gasping for air, the soldier tore at his wings, his fans, his limbs, ripping him piece by piece.
“ONE MORE VICTORY!” It shouted, “ONE MORE SACRIFICE! I WILL BE FREE! I WILL BE FREE! I WILL-”
Thorn shot up in his bed, action cracking his aging bones. Breaths rapid, he spent an unknown amount of time calming himself. Such nightmares were why he’d never considered being a mage soldier for the clan. The horrors were too much for him. Stretching out the residual pain from the nightmare, he moved to the bathroom, filling a small watering can within. Moving to the planter in his window, he cautiously watered the plants within. He didn’t need to overwater them, but he also needed something to ease his mind. This would do.
@Galehaut @TrashMomma @Spectator @megara17 @Jetdrana @CirrusAscending @Tynethyne @Drachenschwinge @nekopallet @MisterMylez
So, ignoring how graphic the Slaughter is, and poor Thorn being the one subject to it, a lot of stuff got revealed today.
First, Howl has been marked by the Desolation as a lore mark. I've decided lore marks will not come with nightmare sequences unless it would make sense to. There's also been a fun development involving Clancy's....evolution. Finally, Apollyon made his first discovery on the pest! I can finally explain this little mechanic now!
Today marks roll 1 of 3 of Apollyon discovering something important about the pest. For reference, all other rolls for this table I use relate to the pest's actions, with one reserved for these 'discoveries'. Once all three are made, a small countdown will begin that will end in a final confrontation with the pest. The outcome of which will be determined by how long it takes for this requirement to be met, as well as other actions taken by the pest during this time.
Finally, about dang time we get some marks back in the crew. After the last death I lost the last dragon that had one. It's good to have three dragons with fresh marks now. By the way, Zylen and Clancy have to get lore marks that are physical in nature now in order for any to count. Therefore they are no longer in the rolling roster for picking marks. It's a small side rule that I don't want to flesh out into a full rule. Don't worry about it.
No post today guys. While today was beyond rough for a workday, this is because today is my boyfriend's birthday and I would like to spend time with him and not writing for that. Writing should pick up tomorrow unless I get a migraine or have another awful day that drains me like this.
No post today guys. While today was beyond rough for a workday, this is because today is my boyfriend's birthday and I would like to spend time with him and not writing for that. Writing should pick up tomorrow unless I get a migraine or have another awful day that drains me like this.
[center][b]Day 72[/b]
[item=Nogglet][/center]
There was tension at breakfast the following morning. Zylen could feel Clancy’s glares from across the dining hall, refusing to sit near him as she ate from her plate. On top of that, they were alone besides Elanor and Jeremiah, the two discussing something from the archives as the Fae spotted folders opened and documents spread across the table space in front of them. The only other dragons he’d seen in the room was Thorn as the other Fae left to his duties, greeting him briefly as they passed. He wound up eating a late lunch in an attempt to avoid seeing the Pearlcatcher again, relieved when the plan succeeded.
After yesterday’s events, he decided it best to avoid Clancy. Allow her to calm down and get her bearings. She’d thankfully not resorted to returning to the panic room, although he was unable to spot her inside her office either. Perhaps she had gone to a private study or her bedroom to avoid the others, but he wouldn’t pursue his urges. She wanted to be alone and he didn’t want to risk being attacked over it.
Work on the catalogue went smoothly, finally finishing another genre in the massive library. At least, as smoothly as finishing that large of a section was. When he first started, he neglected the fact that the disorganization meant he’d find books that’d belong in the ‘completed’ sections, meaning he’d need to rearrange the shelves if he found any misplaced titles. While he kept this in mind now, he’d had to rewrite a few of his earlier lists to accommodate new additions. Now he was much more thorough, keeping everything organized across many more papers and stuffed in folders for when he’d inevitably make his final list.
His work uncovered another of the strange books, though this one he didn’t dare to open to get its name. The hardback book was bound in dragon leather, and the many stains and discolored pages, some of which were undoubtedly blood were enough of a warning. The book technically had a title etched into its cover, but in a language unknown to Zylen. Knowing what exposing an individual to such a piece of literature potentially did, he didn’t want to actively seek answers to these. He did this to keep the others safe, not endanger them.
A loud crash alerted him as he placed the book in the case with the others. Alarmed on the defense, he quickly shrouded himself in his magic, doing his best to stick to the shadows. The pest was likely about, and if possible, he’d try and get the jump on them in an attempt to startle them out of his library. Sure enough, he found a hole in the south wall, where no shelves had been placed, debris coating the floor.
Locating the disguised creature roaming the bookshelves, he was certain that they were tracking his previous travels. Starting along the area he had finished, they stopped briefly by his office, tentatively sticking their face through the door. Not spotting him within, they retracted their head, chittering quietly before continuing their hunt for the Fae. In the middle of their trek they paused abruptly, suddenly changing paths before halting at one of the bookshelves. As they eyed the titles, Zylen took this as his chance, uncloaking to fire a barrage of shadowy darts at the pest.
The plush that served as the protective ‘shell’ soaked almost the entirety of his assault, the beast whipping around as they struck their body. Unphased they let out a shriek, false wings spread as it prepared to lunge at him. Little time to react, he barely managed to dodge out of the way, rushing towards the door. Apollyon or Howl were best to deal with the pest, not him. He was further startled when the door opened before he reached it. Shouting a warning before they entered, he did his best to swerve out of the way, well aware of his pursuer.
Instead, he watched as Clancy first calmly walked through the door, then glared down the rapidly approaching monster. Meeting their chittering cries with a roar of her own before blocking their jaws with her braced arm, casting it aside. Roaring again, she lunged this time, entering a brief exchange of blows before the pest began to back away, ready to flee. Instead of allowing it however, the Pearlcatcher pounced, pinning them before viciously digging into the fabric body and even biting into the neck and face in an attempt to tear away the cloth. The entire time the pest screeched and flailed in protest, claws and jaws once again catching on the metal brace.
Eventually it broke free, bolting in the direction of the hole it had made, leaving Clancy and Zylen alone in the now silent room. It was only now that the Fae caught the heavy breathing of the larger dragon, watching her tainted blood drip onto the wooden floor beneath her. She let out another angry roar before tensing up briefly, collapsing as she released it. Sensing him preparing to leave to grab Mariela, she spoke up, “Don’t. Not yet.”
He watched her struggle to prop herself on an elbow, looking backwards at him, “I came here to talk. I’m not going anywhere until we do.”
“W-What about? Surely it can wait until-”
She interrupted him, “You have a task to prepare for. I’m not waiting until after you’re back.”
Saile’s letter must have come in at the beginning of lunch. He hadn’t seen anyone to inform him as such. Maybe Clancy volunteered, using the opportunity as a chance at a personal conversation. What she didn’t expect was the pest, but he didn’t want to think of what provoked the violent response. “Alright, what about?”
“How can [i]you[/i],” taking in a breath, she readjusted her position, “Be so [i]calm[/i] about our shared condition?”
“What do you mean by that?” He was unsure what the historian was trying to get.
“Sure, it’s not as [i]physical[/i] as mine, but you’re changing too, right? Becoming something else?” She bared her teeth, “So stop acting like it’s [i]nothing[/i]. That it’s something you can get [i]used[/i] to as if this [i]isn’t[/i] abnormal. This isn’t right, Zylen. You’ve written back and forth with Saile on this. We [i]aren’t[/i] normal anymore. We won’t [i]be[/i] normal. Never again. So [i]how[/i]? How can you accept who you are now?”
There was a strange bitterness in hearing Clancy target him like this. Sure, they may have been going through something similar, but it was clear there were major differences. She had no right to say how he should feel about such things. His fans flared and shifted with his rising anger, “You have [i]no[/i] idea who I am. Of who I was before this. Don’t you [i]dare[/i] offload [i]your[/i] problems on me because I don’t share the same experience.”
Raising her voice, she attempted to retort, “And [i]you[/i] don’t-”
“Silence!” Extending his wings and fans fully, he had heard enough, “I’ve heard enough. I’m grabbing Mariela so she can treat your wounds. I don’t want to hear another word.”
He watched her eyes widen with fear, then...ease. Then awareness, “I see now,” her voice was unsteady, shaking, “I see what it’s done to you.” With his back turned to her as he faced the door, she let out a low chuckle, then spoke a final time.
“Your thorns are on the [i]inside.[/i]”
---------
@Galehaut @TrashMomma @Spectator @megara17 @Jetdrana @CirrusAscending @Tynethyne @Drachenschwinge @nekopallet @MisterMylez
[s]Help there was so many italics at the end there.[/s]
Team tonight was Apollyon, Thorn, and Clancy, and everyone gained at least one level because heck yeah 50% exp boost from WW. Very happy Blooming Grove had Plague mages because that made it so Thorn could survive a round and get the levels needed for a vitality boost. Still took like two hours to do 30 battles between distractions and how long each battle takes, but I managed it in the end.
I actually nearly lost motivation to write tonight because I couldn't think of a way to ease into today's events. That aside, got our pest breaking into the library and acting a little strange. Zylen's also been put on a mission for the first time in a while, but more on that tomorrow. What I wanted to showcase tonight is that Clancy and Zylen are in fact developing differently as Avatars. Also, an Avatar of the Extinction still kinda terrified of the drastic changes going on with their body? In this Pinkerlocke??? Who would've guessed? Zylen also hasn't quite caught on that he's finding it a lot easier to act cold and uncaring to others if he feels like it. More on that in the future.
Anyways, it's late. I need to wind down and get ready for bed.
There was tension at breakfast the following morning. Zylen could feel Clancy’s glares from across the dining hall, refusing to sit near him as she ate from her plate. On top of that, they were alone besides Elanor and Jeremiah, the two discussing something from the archives as the Fae spotted folders opened and documents spread across the table space in front of them. The only other dragons he’d seen in the room was Thorn as the other Fae left to his duties, greeting him briefly as they passed. He wound up eating a late lunch in an attempt to avoid seeing the Pearlcatcher again, relieved when the plan succeeded.
After yesterday’s events, he decided it best to avoid Clancy. Allow her to calm down and get her bearings. She’d thankfully not resorted to returning to the panic room, although he was unable to spot her inside her office either. Perhaps she had gone to a private study or her bedroom to avoid the others, but he wouldn’t pursue his urges. She wanted to be alone and he didn’t want to risk being attacked over it.
Work on the catalogue went smoothly, finally finishing another genre in the massive library. At least, as smoothly as finishing that large of a section was. When he first started, he neglected the fact that the disorganization meant he’d find books that’d belong in the ‘completed’ sections, meaning he’d need to rearrange the shelves if he found any misplaced titles. While he kept this in mind now, he’d had to rewrite a few of his earlier lists to accommodate new additions. Now he was much more thorough, keeping everything organized across many more papers and stuffed in folders for when he’d inevitably make his final list.
His work uncovered another of the strange books, though this one he didn’t dare to open to get its name. The hardback book was bound in dragon leather, and the many stains and discolored pages, some of which were undoubtedly blood were enough of a warning. The book technically had a title etched into its cover, but in a language unknown to Zylen. Knowing what exposing an individual to such a piece of literature potentially did, he didn’t want to actively seek answers to these. He did this to keep the others safe, not endanger them.
A loud crash alerted him as he placed the book in the case with the others. Alarmed on the defense, he quickly shrouded himself in his magic, doing his best to stick to the shadows. The pest was likely about, and if possible, he’d try and get the jump on them in an attempt to startle them out of his library. Sure enough, he found a hole in the south wall, where no shelves had been placed, debris coating the floor.
Locating the disguised creature roaming the bookshelves, he was certain that they were tracking his previous travels. Starting along the area he had finished, they stopped briefly by his office, tentatively sticking their face through the door. Not spotting him within, they retracted their head, chittering quietly before continuing their hunt for the Fae. In the middle of their trek they paused abruptly, suddenly changing paths before halting at one of the bookshelves. As they eyed the titles, Zylen took this as his chance, uncloaking to fire a barrage of shadowy darts at the pest.
The plush that served as the protective ‘shell’ soaked almost the entirety of his assault, the beast whipping around as they struck their body. Unphased they let out a shriek, false wings spread as it prepared to lunge at him. Little time to react, he barely managed to dodge out of the way, rushing towards the door. Apollyon or Howl were best to deal with the pest, not him. He was further startled when the door opened before he reached it. Shouting a warning before they entered, he did his best to swerve out of the way, well aware of his pursuer.
Instead, he watched as Clancy first calmly walked through the door, then glared down the rapidly approaching monster. Meeting their chittering cries with a roar of her own before blocking their jaws with her braced arm, casting it aside. Roaring again, she lunged this time, entering a brief exchange of blows before the pest began to back away, ready to flee. Instead of allowing it however, the Pearlcatcher pounced, pinning them before viciously digging into the fabric body and even biting into the neck and face in an attempt to tear away the cloth. The entire time the pest screeched and flailed in protest, claws and jaws once again catching on the metal brace.
Eventually it broke free, bolting in the direction of the hole it had made, leaving Clancy and Zylen alone in the now silent room. It was only now that the Fae caught the heavy breathing of the larger dragon, watching her tainted blood drip onto the wooden floor beneath her. She let out another angry roar before tensing up briefly, collapsing as she released it. Sensing him preparing to leave to grab Mariela, she spoke up, “Don’t. Not yet.”
He watched her struggle to prop herself on an elbow, looking backwards at him, “I came here to talk. I’m not going anywhere until we do.”
“W-What about? Surely it can wait until-”
She interrupted him, “You have a task to prepare for. I’m not waiting until after you’re back.”
Saile’s letter must have come in at the beginning of lunch. He hadn’t seen anyone to inform him as such. Maybe Clancy volunteered, using the opportunity as a chance at a personal conversation. What she didn’t expect was the pest, but he didn’t want to think of what provoked the violent response. “Alright, what about?”
“How can you,” taking in a breath, she readjusted her position, “Be so calm about our shared condition?”
“What do you mean by that?” He was unsure what the historian was trying to get.
“Sure, it’s not as physical as mine, but you’re changing too, right? Becoming something else?” She bared her teeth, “So stop acting like it’s nothing. That it’s something you can get used to as if this isn’t abnormal. This isn’t right, Zylen. You’ve written back and forth with Saile on this. We aren’t normal anymore. We won’t be normal. Never again. So how? How can you accept who you are now?”
There was a strange bitterness in hearing Clancy target him like this. Sure, they may have been going through something similar, but it was clear there were major differences. She had no right to say how he should feel about such things. His fans flared and shifted with his rising anger, “You have no idea who I am. Of who I was before this. Don’t you dare offload your problems on me because I don’t share the same experience.”
Raising her voice, she attempted to retort, “And you don’t-”
“Silence!” Extending his wings and fans fully, he had heard enough, “I’ve heard enough. I’m grabbing Mariela so she can treat your wounds. I don’t want to hear another word.”
He watched her eyes widen with fear, then...ease. Then awareness, “I see now,” her voice was unsteady, shaking, “I see what it’s done to you.” With his back turned to her as he faced the door, she let out a low chuckle, then spoke a final time.
Team tonight was Apollyon, Thorn, and Clancy, and everyone gained at least one level because heck yeah 50% exp boost from WW. Very happy Blooming Grove had Plague mages because that made it so Thorn could survive a round and get the levels needed for a vitality boost. Still took like two hours to do 30 battles between distractions and how long each battle takes, but I managed it in the end.
I actually nearly lost motivation to write tonight because I couldn't think of a way to ease into today's events. That aside, got our pest breaking into the library and acting a little strange. Zylen's also been put on a mission for the first time in a while, but more on that tomorrow. What I wanted to showcase tonight is that Clancy and Zylen are in fact developing differently as Avatars. Also, an Avatar of the Extinction still kinda terrified of the drastic changes going on with their body? In this Pinkerlocke??? Who would've guessed? Zylen also hasn't quite caught on that he's finding it a lot easier to act cold and uncaring to others if he feels like it. More on that in the future.
Anyways, it's late. I need to wind down and get ready for bed.
Sorry, no post tonight. I'm finding myself in another situation where I'm feeling like I'm forcing myself to write and I don't like doing that. I do have plans for the next entry, but I don't want to drag my way through it either. Hopefully I'm feeling well enough tomorrow, although there may not be a post due to plans I have.
Speaking of plans, I'm going on vacation from work next week! That said, there will likely be few, if any updates to the Pinkerlocke during that time. If I find free time and energy I'll try and get something out, but don't be surprised if I don't write any at all.
Sorry, no post tonight. I'm finding myself in another situation where I'm feeling like I'm forcing myself to write and I don't like doing that. I do have plans for the next entry, but I don't want to drag my way through it either. Hopefully I'm feeling well enough tomorrow, although there may not be a post due to plans I have.
Speaking of plans, I'm going on vacation from work next week! That said, there will likely be few, if any updates to the Pinkerlocke during that time. If I find free time and energy I'll try and get something out, but don't be surprised if I don't write any at all.
[center][b]Day 73[/b]
[item=Poisonous Toridae][/center]
Zylen fumbled with the pamphlet clutched between his claws, nervously eyeing his surroundings. He and Jeremiah had explored this art gallery earlier in the day, taking in exhibitions and permanent pieces with distant admiration. While both were unaware of the deeper meaning behind each sculpture and painting, they respected the care and effort put into each piece before them, quietly theorizing what may have been going through the creator’s mind while designing and structuring such things.
Now, as the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, the bright clean halls had been cast into darkness. The only light sources came from the dim bulbs that shone above the many building phones designed to communicate between others within the building. Even their guide, an older Spiral, kept their flashlight stuck to their utility belt, using their nocturnal vision to see through the dark.
Little had been told to them about the sculpture mentioned in Saile’s letter detailing their task. They knew where it was kept by the caution tape surrounding one of the rooms, and that it was inherently dangerous based on how staff acted around those approaching. Even they had been warned against entering until tonight, where any injuries would cause less of a panic and there would be less eyes on them. All the Fae was certain of was that the two of them were not to recover the piece, only to take notes and statements.
The latter had already been done during their time waiting. Outside of those present for the incident that led to contacting the institute, there was little variation on accounts. Those arriving on scene saw multiple dragons convulsing, and did not know of their injuries and deaths, nor of the cause until the following day. Pinpointing the source as a strange sculpture that had not been present in the days prior to this, the room was immediately shut off to visitors, doors shut and locked where applicable and guards placed outside when not.
There were two accounts that differed, both originating from employees stationed around the room. One ran on the scene almost immediately after hearing a cry for help, while the other was a victim. The former recalled seeing a strange shadow cast over the room, and began making her way towards it out of suspicion of magic being performed to alter or steal a piece. After hearing pained cries, she sounded an alarm, had another employee alert management and security over one of the phones, and entered the room ready for a struggle. Instead she became aware of the injured dragons within, doing her best to stabilize them. She recalled seeing the sculpture surrounded in a strange glow, but ignored it over helping the injured.
The last member of staff, the one injured, gave the most in-depth account. He recalled seeing the new sculpture that morning. It was either carved from some sort of black rock, or molded from similarly colored metal, shining in the lights of the room. Depicting what looked like a Pearlcatcher, albeit with strange altercations to their appearance. Extra arms and horns, jagged teeth peeking from under its upper jaw, extra eyes and ears. It held an overall draconic visage, but one completely unfamiliar to Sornieth. Seated on a stone pedestal that appeared to be wrapped in smoke, the dragon held two white spherical objects, deduced by the growing crowd as Sornieth’s moons.
When asked about the origins of the statue, he couldn’t give an answer to the artist or name to the piece. So, he contacted an on-site curator, who shared in their confusion, as there were no scheduled installations for that day, nor for the rest of the week. Promising to go through the files to ensure there was no miscommunication, he was left to look over the statue until someone called him again. He would never hear that call.
Some time in the afternoon, he watched the orbs in the statue’s claws darken. Shifting from grey to black, to a deep void darker than that of the statue itself, he stared in awe at the transformation, as did the crowd that had gathered to watch. Then, in an instant, the room became pitch black, before he and the others found themselves paralyzed. Despite being unable to see, he could detect the presence of the statue, and soon was subjected to strange whispers before being wracked with pain. The entire time he felt as if a part of a test, something he couldn’t quite elaborate the details of.
“We’re here.”
The sudden words from the Spiral knocked Zylen out of his recollection, now face-to-face with one of the openings to the room. He and Jeremiah exchanged worried glances before speaking, “Thank you for taking us here. We’ll try to make this quick.”
Instead of being permitted to enter, the guard stayed in the way, looking back at the two with distaste, “I don’t understand what’s with you and your institute’s looking into these things. Urban legend or not, messing with dangerous objects like this all the time is bound to get you killed.”
“Urban legends?” Jeremiah questioned, the Banescale’s face reflecting the curiosity that Zylen held in his half-raised fans, save for one extended out a bit farther.
“It’s a story passed between galleries,” the Spiral was clearly skeptical of his next words, “Something about strange exhibits cropping up for up to a week before disappearing. No trace of the artist or them having been moved to the location they took up during that time. Always some level of ‘danger’ around them, ranging from curses to muder sprees. And no one knows ‘until it’s too late’. All a bunch of coincidences and paranoia if you ask me.”
“You know if this place has held one of these rumored pieces before now?” Zylen inquired, wondering the source of this information for the guard.
“Not here, but before I was transferred, I worked for an art museum that had three in the years I worked there.” He scoffed, “If you take a few moments to think about it, of course a rumored object would just ‘disappear’ from a museum after such rumors. You don’t keep a cursed or dangerous piece around after there’s victims. You wouldn’t want [i]more[/i] would you? It would be too much of a risk, regardless of the truth behind those rumors.”
He watched the Spiral move out of the way finally, “Fair enough. Glad to see someone sharing my doubts.” With a nod, the Fae floated inside, Jeremiah in tow.
The statue was life-sized, and as described by the accounts received earlier. In this darkness it was hard to make out more than the general shape, save for the two orbs balanced in its claws. Appearing to glow from within the relative darkness, the detail would be cause for admiration if not for the reason he was there. The Banescale had already balanced himself on his tail and wings to begin making a rough sketch of the piece, regularly pausing to adjust his position or get a closer look.
With no sign of the ‘darkening’ described to Zylen, he spoke out of the room, “Hey, would you mind if I touched this? I want to see if there’s a physical trigger of any kind for what happened.”
The Spiral peered into the room, eyes distrustful, “And why is that?”
“Well, if there’s a physical or magical trigger, it means that the artist or someone aware of its existence triggered the effect. Makes the incident an attack. If there isn’t one, that makes what happened tied directly to the sculpture itself, with either a timer or a set of circumstances needing to be met. While the latter can still be malicious, the end result could be unintentional. An extension of the ‘art’ gone horribly wrong.” It was Jeremiah who answered, giving a far more in-depth response than Zylen even thought of.
“Very well. If anything happens, inform me and I’ll do my best to call someone,” like that, the Spiral moved back outside, uninterested in the two’s work.
Feeling around the sculpture, the Fae was unable to locate anything akin to a switch, and discovered that the orbs were stuck in place, not meant to be removed. That wasn’t his only discovery though. Between engravings on one of the sides, at the top of the pedestal, and the top of the head, he made out a couple phrases. Fearing what may happen if spoken aloud, he quickly scribbled them on his notepad, quietly showing Jeremiah. The two finished up soon after, and were quickly escorted to the portal room located in a building next to the art gallery.
Saying farewells, the two soon found themselves back in the mansion as dawn began to encroach on the horizon. Tired, the two wished to go to bed immediately, but took a detour to visit the library and gather their thoughts and findings in a quiet space. There, Zylen finally looked over his writing from earlier, safe enough to read them aloud.
“Lightwalkers fear. Nightwalkers feign. Darkwalkers accept.”
It was a strange phrase, one that left the two discussing the meaning of until the sun was well over the horizon. However, their banter was cut short as the library door opened and the two were faced with a Wildclaw. Unfamiliar with them, Zylen tensed up, especially after seeing them draw a sword and shield and question the two of them.
[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/537779856474243072/876689560652906526/CooCoo_for_Cocoa_Warrior.png[/img][/center]
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” He pointed his sword at Jeremiah, but kept his eyes trained on Zylen in anticipation.
“I’m Zylen and this is Jeremiah,” the Fae raised his claws to show he meant no harm. He dropped his secondary pair of frills while flaring the main pair out, emulating fear he didn’t feel, but hoped the Wildclaw would recognize. “I’m the librarian and he works…”
“For Elanor,” quickly sheathing the sword and relaxing the shield, he finished the Fae’s sentence. “I was told you two were on a mission. That you would not be back until later today or tomorrow. Seems everyone was wrong.” He nodded, half-bowing, “Tulukaruk. You may refer to me as Tulu if that is easier. Assigned night guard of Magpie Manor.”
“So you were simply doing the rounds for tonight and ‘caught’ us,” Jeremiah chimed in, smiling, “Glad to know you’re as dedicated as the rest of us.”
“Precisely,” standing stiffly, the Wildclaw looked the two up and down, “I have been informed of your little ‘pest’ problem already. No need to worry about my safety.”
“Honestly the least of your problems,” Zylen sighed, remembering himself and Clancy’s situation, the books, and the missing documentation, to name a few. “You’ll only be informed of the others if you really want to know though.”
Tulu nodded in understanding, “Very well. I will leave you two be and complete my rounds. Howl will be up soon to take my spot.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Tulu,” Zylen did a small bow of his own, “I hope your stay here is as pleasant as one can be.”
----------
@Galehaut @TrashMomma @Spectator @megara17 @Jetdrana @CirrusAscending @Tynethyne @Drachenschwinge @nekopallet @MisterMylez
Almost didn't post tonight. I've been fighting a migraine for most of today and still have a bit of a headache as I post this. Luckily it hasn't gotten worse again so I could ignore most of the pain while writing. I'm definitely going to be taking more medicine and laying down once I've finished updating everything.
As for today's writing, new member! I actually quite like Tulu, even if he's another bred dragon to the roster. Just means I get to have fun bringing up family if that ever occurs. It's nice to have another fighter in-lore. As for the statue, I'm considering drawing it, though not now due to headache and plans for this week. I quite like how it looks in my head and I'd like to try and get it down on paper in some fashion.
This also marks the first 'appearance' of a group I am [i]very[/i] excited to include more of in the future. Surprised it took this long to hint at them.
After Toridae devour large prey items, they burrow into the marsh bed and take root. Water dotted with the blooms of their tails designate plentiful hunting grounds.
2800
Zylen fumbled with the pamphlet clutched between his claws, nervously eyeing his surroundings. He and Jeremiah had explored this art gallery earlier in the day, taking in exhibitions and permanent pieces with distant admiration. While both were unaware of the deeper meaning behind each sculpture and painting, they respected the care and effort put into each piece before them, quietly theorizing what may have been going through the creator’s mind while designing and structuring such things.
Now, as the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, the bright clean halls had been cast into darkness. The only light sources came from the dim bulbs that shone above the many building phones designed to communicate between others within the building. Even their guide, an older Spiral, kept their flashlight stuck to their utility belt, using their nocturnal vision to see through the dark.
Little had been told to them about the sculpture mentioned in Saile’s letter detailing their task. They knew where it was kept by the caution tape surrounding one of the rooms, and that it was inherently dangerous based on how staff acted around those approaching. Even they had been warned against entering until tonight, where any injuries would cause less of a panic and there would be less eyes on them. All the Fae was certain of was that the two of them were not to recover the piece, only to take notes and statements.
The latter had already been done during their time waiting. Outside of those present for the incident that led to contacting the institute, there was little variation on accounts. Those arriving on scene saw multiple dragons convulsing, and did not know of their injuries and deaths, nor of the cause until the following day. Pinpointing the source as a strange sculpture that had not been present in the days prior to this, the room was immediately shut off to visitors, doors shut and locked where applicable and guards placed outside when not.
There were two accounts that differed, both originating from employees stationed around the room. One ran on the scene almost immediately after hearing a cry for help, while the other was a victim. The former recalled seeing a strange shadow cast over the room, and began making her way towards it out of suspicion of magic being performed to alter or steal a piece. After hearing pained cries, she sounded an alarm, had another employee alert management and security over one of the phones, and entered the room ready for a struggle. Instead she became aware of the injured dragons within, doing her best to stabilize them. She recalled seeing the sculpture surrounded in a strange glow, but ignored it over helping the injured.
The last member of staff, the one injured, gave the most in-depth account. He recalled seeing the new sculpture that morning. It was either carved from some sort of black rock, or molded from similarly colored metal, shining in the lights of the room. Depicting what looked like a Pearlcatcher, albeit with strange altercations to their appearance. Extra arms and horns, jagged teeth peeking from under its upper jaw, extra eyes and ears. It held an overall draconic visage, but one completely unfamiliar to Sornieth. Seated on a stone pedestal that appeared to be wrapped in smoke, the dragon held two white spherical objects, deduced by the growing crowd as Sornieth’s moons.
When asked about the origins of the statue, he couldn’t give an answer to the artist or name to the piece. So, he contacted an on-site curator, who shared in their confusion, as there were no scheduled installations for that day, nor for the rest of the week. Promising to go through the files to ensure there was no miscommunication, he was left to look over the statue until someone called him again. He would never hear that call.
Some time in the afternoon, he watched the orbs in the statue’s claws darken. Shifting from grey to black, to a deep void darker than that of the statue itself, he stared in awe at the transformation, as did the crowd that had gathered to watch. Then, in an instant, the room became pitch black, before he and the others found themselves paralyzed. Despite being unable to see, he could detect the presence of the statue, and soon was subjected to strange whispers before being wracked with pain. The entire time he felt as if a part of a test, something he couldn’t quite elaborate the details of.
“We’re here.”
The sudden words from the Spiral knocked Zylen out of his recollection, now face-to-face with one of the openings to the room. He and Jeremiah exchanged worried glances before speaking, “Thank you for taking us here. We’ll try to make this quick.”
Instead of being permitted to enter, the guard stayed in the way, looking back at the two with distaste, “I don’t understand what’s with you and your institute’s looking into these things. Urban legend or not, messing with dangerous objects like this all the time is bound to get you killed.”
“Urban legends?” Jeremiah questioned, the Banescale’s face reflecting the curiosity that Zylen held in his half-raised fans, save for one extended out a bit farther.
“It’s a story passed between galleries,” the Spiral was clearly skeptical of his next words, “Something about strange exhibits cropping up for up to a week before disappearing. No trace of the artist or them having been moved to the location they took up during that time. Always some level of ‘danger’ around them, ranging from curses to muder sprees. And no one knows ‘until it’s too late’. All a bunch of coincidences and paranoia if you ask me.”
“You know if this place has held one of these rumored pieces before now?” Zylen inquired, wondering the source of this information for the guard.
“Not here, but before I was transferred, I worked for an art museum that had three in the years I worked there.” He scoffed, “If you take a few moments to think about it, of course a rumored object would just ‘disappear’ from a museum after such rumors. You don’t keep a cursed or dangerous piece around after there’s victims. You wouldn’t want more would you? It would be too much of a risk, regardless of the truth behind those rumors.”
He watched the Spiral move out of the way finally, “Fair enough. Glad to see someone sharing my doubts.” With a nod, the Fae floated inside, Jeremiah in tow.
The statue was life-sized, and as described by the accounts received earlier. In this darkness it was hard to make out more than the general shape, save for the two orbs balanced in its claws. Appearing to glow from within the relative darkness, the detail would be cause for admiration if not for the reason he was there. The Banescale had already balanced himself on his tail and wings to begin making a rough sketch of the piece, regularly pausing to adjust his position or get a closer look.
With no sign of the ‘darkening’ described to Zylen, he spoke out of the room, “Hey, would you mind if I touched this? I want to see if there’s a physical trigger of any kind for what happened.”
The Spiral peered into the room, eyes distrustful, “And why is that?”
“Well, if there’s a physical or magical trigger, it means that the artist or someone aware of its existence triggered the effect. Makes the incident an attack. If there isn’t one, that makes what happened tied directly to the sculpture itself, with either a timer or a set of circumstances needing to be met. While the latter can still be malicious, the end result could be unintentional. An extension of the ‘art’ gone horribly wrong.” It was Jeremiah who answered, giving a far more in-depth response than Zylen even thought of.
“Very well. If anything happens, inform me and I’ll do my best to call someone,” like that, the Spiral moved back outside, uninterested in the two’s work.
Feeling around the sculpture, the Fae was unable to locate anything akin to a switch, and discovered that the orbs were stuck in place, not meant to be removed. That wasn’t his only discovery though. Between engravings on one of the sides, at the top of the pedestal, and the top of the head, he made out a couple phrases. Fearing what may happen if spoken aloud, he quickly scribbled them on his notepad, quietly showing Jeremiah. The two finished up soon after, and were quickly escorted to the portal room located in a building next to the art gallery.
Saying farewells, the two soon found themselves back in the mansion as dawn began to encroach on the horizon. Tired, the two wished to go to bed immediately, but took a detour to visit the library and gather their thoughts and findings in a quiet space. There, Zylen finally looked over his writing from earlier, safe enough to read them aloud.
It was a strange phrase, one that left the two discussing the meaning of until the sun was well over the horizon. However, their banter was cut short as the library door opened and the two were faced with a Wildclaw. Unfamiliar with them, Zylen tensed up, especially after seeing them draw a sword and shield and question the two of them.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” He pointed his sword at Jeremiah, but kept his eyes trained on Zylen in anticipation.
“I’m Zylen and this is Jeremiah,” the Fae raised his claws to show he meant no harm. He dropped his secondary pair of frills while flaring the main pair out, emulating fear he didn’t feel, but hoped the Wildclaw would recognize. “I’m the librarian and he works…”
“For Elanor,” quickly sheathing the sword and relaxing the shield, he finished the Fae’s sentence. “I was told you two were on a mission. That you would not be back until later today or tomorrow. Seems everyone was wrong.” He nodded, half-bowing, “Tulukaruk. You may refer to me as Tulu if that is easier. Assigned night guard of Magpie Manor.”
“So you were simply doing the rounds for tonight and ‘caught’ us,” Jeremiah chimed in, smiling, “Glad to know you’re as dedicated as the rest of us.”
“Precisely,” standing stiffly, the Wildclaw looked the two up and down, “I have been informed of your little ‘pest’ problem already. No need to worry about my safety.”
“Honestly the least of your problems,” Zylen sighed, remembering himself and Clancy’s situation, the books, and the missing documentation, to name a few. “You’ll only be informed of the others if you really want to know though.”
Tulu nodded in understanding, “Very well. I will leave you two be and complete my rounds. Howl will be up soon to take my spot.”
Almost didn't post tonight. I've been fighting a migraine for most of today and still have a bit of a headache as I post this. Luckily it hasn't gotten worse again so I could ignore most of the pain while writing. I'm definitely going to be taking more medicine and laying down once I've finished updating everything.
As for today's writing, new member! I actually quite like Tulu, even if he's another bred dragon to the roster. Just means I get to have fun bringing up family if that ever occurs. It's nice to have another fighter in-lore. As for the statue, I'm considering drawing it, though not now due to headache and plans for this week. I quite like how it looks in my head and I'd like to try and get it down on paper in some fashion.
This also marks the first 'appearance' of a group I am very excited to include more of in the future. Surprised it took this long to hint at them.
[center][b]Day 74[/b]
[item=Emerald Brooch]
[b]Content Warning: Burning, Catching on fire, Burned bodies and bones[/b][/center]
Waking sometime in the afternoon, Zylen’s day started slow and rigid. A quick lunch led into a couple hours recalling his trip and providing notes to Micah, followed by hunting down Jeremiah to inform the Banescale to provide his own recount. Reorganizing yet another mess made of the shelves in the library, likely caused by the pest yet again, he’d finally be able to get work in.
The Fae kept up his work until called into the archive by Elanor, the Tundra using one of the house phones for once. With Jeremiah busy, and Apollyon likely keeping to himself as usual, she resorted to the phone in her office to personally call him. The message was short and to the point, discussing a discovery she finally felt comfortable sharing with him and her assistants. Wanting to keep the details in person, she simply brought up that the topic was the individual she had been looking into and left it at that.
Pausing to finish the current shelf, he returned the catalogue notes to one of the drawers in his office desk. Taking a moment to lock up, he took off towards the archives, nodding in greeting to Howl as he passed the Tundra in one of the halls. Finding his way into the basement, he noticed Elanor waiting outside the entrance to the archives. She gestured back towards the stairs, “Come. This is something best discussed outside. Besides, I need to stretch my legs.”
Finding their way to one of the patios, the two rested in the lounge chairs. The archivist took the moment of relaxation to carefully remove a couple folders from the bag at her side, flipping through them briefly. She pulled out a small stack of papers from one, held together with a paper clip, “I’d like you to read this before we talk.” Watching him open his mouth to speak up, she interrupted, voice lowered to not arouse attention, “We’ll talk once we’re up and about. I don’t want staff picking up on this.”
“Then why not keep this in your office?” Zylen uttered back, skeptical.
“I don’t want Apollyon catching word of this right now. He’s very much a dragon of actions rather than words and he may ruin further finds. I’ll be informing Jeremiah later as well. Now,” she picked herself up, eyes bright and cheery, “Why don’t you give that a read? I think it’s just your thing!”
Catching onto the cue, the Fae looked over the papers handed over to him. Keeping fans raised in enjoyment to hide his nerves, he started at the picture provided. The monotone colors of the photograph made it impossible to tell the colors of the individual, but he was able to make out many dark stains across their skin and clothes. Holding a wrench in one of their claws and some sort of strap slung over a shoulder, Zylen assumed him to be some sort of mechanic.
As he read the file, he found this individual served as an architect, often aiding in construction projects on his own designs. Going by Rolt Wander, the Wildclaw had graduated top of his class, and while he had created many successful office designs in the Shifting Expanse, it was his outside works that brought him renown. Consisting of precariously fragile balancing acts of pieces and parts, these ‘buildings’ served more as art than livable spaces. After receiving private funding for one such design, the resulting structure collapsed within the month, killing three. His fame and recommendations stripped, he was cast away as a shameful excuse for an architect and never heard from again.
As he put down the first grouping of paper, Elanor passed a second to him to read. This stack was shorter, but consisted of old statements from the archivist before Darryn. Of the six provided, four discussed strange living spaces. Each located deep in the wilderness, away from large clans, they stuck out as if some sort of beacon, beckoning those lost to use them as shelter for the night. Consisting of nigh impossible shapes and forms, most were wary to approach, and were greeted to a horrible reality when they entered. None were able to put it in any describable words, the archivist’s personal notes stating great distress when attempting to recall what had been observed by those who entered.
There were two exceptions to this format in the form of the final two statements. The first was an account of a similar indescribable interior of a building, however this one took on the appearance of an innocent looking cabin, designed for two medium-sized dragons to live in. Welcoming, the individual described entering the home and instead of a cozy interior, found themselves lost, as if in a maze of insidious design. They attempted to get their bearings, only to feel watched, beginning and continuing to run until they found the exit again. Nearly passing out in that time, they eventually escaped, finding dawn on the horizon as they found themselves outside one more. Looking back, the cabin still remained, door shut and curtains over the window.
The second exception was similar to the previous one, but this time it had been one of the few recovered papers from Darryn’s time. The statement was incomplete, missing its last page, but it told a similar story. A dragon lost inside the interior of an innocuous house out in the wild away from any noteworthy clans. However, when they attempted to recall information on the interior, they were unable to, befuddled like the others before them, save for one detail. They remembered climbing a set of stairs, being able to see the top, only to never reach them. Always completing a loop and looking up to find themselves progressing no closer to the top. And when they attempted to descend, the same occurred, leaving them trapped. That is, until they jumped through the center, only for their memories to fail once more.
Being handed no further papers, Elanor waved for him to stand, her following suit. She spoke up once the two had found themselves on one of the many stone-laid paths around the manor grounds, “Do you want to know why Rolt of all dragons took my interest?”
“That would be a good start I suppose,” Zylen let his fans finally fall, keeping his left fans extended in inquiry.
“Holt once worked on a project for the company I worked at before I came here,” there was steely calm in her eyes, “He was before my time, but he left his mark on my workplace.”
“How so?”
“There was a small storage building,” he could tell Elanor was struggling to remember exact details, “I don’t remember much of the space from the couple times I was called there to grab an individual or an object, but it was...odd to say the least. Then there were the rumors.” She let out a sigh, one that Zylen couldn’t quite read the emotions behind.
“Did you not believe them?” He pried, wondering if she held the same distaste for rumors as the Spiral he had met the night before.
“At first,” he watched her grind her teeth before speaking again, “Then I came here and stumbled across all of this. Rolt’s file is one I grabbed from sources I have, but the rest is from here, starting with Darryn’s statement. After I dug up more, I decided to see if it aligned with what I knew about him.”
“And what of the rumors? Similar to what you read in the statements?”
“Somewhat,” she frowned, “His reason for being stripped of his architectural permissions was infamous around circles such as mine. Of course the one building on-site that he had created had rumors of dragons getting lost or even going missing. The two confirmed missing dragons in the site’s history were always tied to ‘the Wander building’ instead of something more reasonable. However, now, with what I know, there may be more truth to their words.”
Zylen caught something that didn’t quite line up, “Wouldn’t that building be [i]before[/i] the incident though?”
Elanor shook her head, “Before the incident, sure, but not before the time he had begun to slip. To create and design such bizarre structures. You know what gets me though?”
“Shoot,” Zylen raised his fans, expressing a sort of false eagerness that hid the knots in his stomach.
“His outside designs, no matter how bizarre, make sense,” she looked up at the Fae, lost in her confusion, “I want to know how he did that to the [i]inside[/i] of the buildings.”
--------------
Apollyon knew he was dreaming.
He knew how to lucid dream. He had been taught how to and learned naturally. He’d be able to manipulate the dreamscape and move as he pleased. But he couldn’t. Not tonight. He was trapped. Restrained. Something wanted him to see what was around him.
And that was flame.
It was unnatural. Fire spreads and consumes but it doesn’t linger. Not like he saw. Eating away at the trees. The grass. The bodies. Oh so many bodies. They weren’t real. They were no cause of concern for him. The fire was the threat. He could not be invincible as he was used to. Not tonight.
Dodging the tongues of flame, around the ashes and embers that jumped for his eyes. His small body made it easy. He had been blessed with his form. With his magic. Taught to respect his power and the responsibility that followed. But it had limits. The all-consuming power of fire was one such limit. He was not invincible. Not tonight. Not here.
Coiling through the air, he daintily hopped from the branches yet to collapse. He was here to see something. The wall of heat behind him pushed him there. Turning back wasn’t an option. Taking the unintended path brought only more fire. He wasn’t the one in control here. Not here. Not tonight.
He found a clearing. One untouched by flame yet covered in dry brittle grass. There was nothing here. Nothing for him. Fire approaching from all sides, he could see the end. But it stopped. Tongues of fire licked the outside of the clearing. The grass should be alight. Forcing him aloft. But it wasn’t. A figure walked out to greet him. One of coal and ash and bone. One that smelled of smoke and burning and death. Fire poured from their eyes. Smoke roiled out from their mouth and chest. Embers flew and ashes fell from the bones.
He stared in fear. A deep fear. Internal fear. Something primal. The fear was not born from his thoughts. He did not mentally fear the thing in front of him. But his body did. He tried to run. Tried to escape. But it was too late. He caught flame. Indescribable pain rising from his body. The burning and falling of flesh. The sight of his claws burned to the bone. Spreading farther and deeper until….
Until….
He bolted awake. He didn’t scream. But his chest pounded. It wasn’t real. It was a dream. A nightmare. One he couldn’t control. One in which he was told something. But what he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He was alive. He didn’t die.
Not tonight.
----------------
@Galehaut @TrashMomma @Spectator @megara17 @Jetdrana @CirrusAscending @Tynethyne @Drachenschwinge @nekopallet @MisterMylez
Edit: I am so sorry I forgot the warnings for the nightmares
So Apollyon got marked by the Desolation. He's also a lucid dreamer, who would've guessed. In other news, finally got answers on the individual Elanor was seeking! Turns out she's familiar with this "Rolt" character she stumbled across, and what she's managed to gather (and be willing to share) has left her puzzled and concerned.
Next mission's assigned tomorrow if I post. I wonder what that will bring? Vacation started today, but it looks like I'll be at least somewhat open in the evening most nights. Hopefully it'll give me enough time to type entries. If not, oh well.
Easy to pin to clothing, hard to pin to scales. (Special thanks to Amehime!)
20
Content Warning: Burning, Catching on fire, Burned bodies and bones
Waking sometime in the afternoon, Zylen’s day started slow and rigid. A quick lunch led into a couple hours recalling his trip and providing notes to Micah, followed by hunting down Jeremiah to inform the Banescale to provide his own recount. Reorganizing yet another mess made of the shelves in the library, likely caused by the pest yet again, he’d finally be able to get work in.
The Fae kept up his work until called into the archive by Elanor, the Tundra using one of the house phones for once. With Jeremiah busy, and Apollyon likely keeping to himself as usual, she resorted to the phone in her office to personally call him. The message was short and to the point, discussing a discovery she finally felt comfortable sharing with him and her assistants. Wanting to keep the details in person, she simply brought up that the topic was the individual she had been looking into and left it at that.
Pausing to finish the current shelf, he returned the catalogue notes to one of the drawers in his office desk. Taking a moment to lock up, he took off towards the archives, nodding in greeting to Howl as he passed the Tundra in one of the halls. Finding his way into the basement, he noticed Elanor waiting outside the entrance to the archives. She gestured back towards the stairs, “Come. This is something best discussed outside. Besides, I need to stretch my legs.”
Finding their way to one of the patios, the two rested in the lounge chairs. The archivist took the moment of relaxation to carefully remove a couple folders from the bag at her side, flipping through them briefly. She pulled out a small stack of papers from one, held together with a paper clip, “I’d like you to read this before we talk.” Watching him open his mouth to speak up, she interrupted, voice lowered to not arouse attention, “We’ll talk once we’re up and about. I don’t want staff picking up on this.”
“Then why not keep this in your office?” Zylen uttered back, skeptical.
“I don’t want Apollyon catching word of this right now. He’s very much a dragon of actions rather than words and he may ruin further finds. I’ll be informing Jeremiah later as well. Now,” she picked herself up, eyes bright and cheery, “Why don’t you give that a read? I think it’s just your thing!”
Catching onto the cue, the Fae looked over the papers handed over to him. Keeping fans raised in enjoyment to hide his nerves, he started at the picture provided. The monotone colors of the photograph made it impossible to tell the colors of the individual, but he was able to make out many dark stains across their skin and clothes. Holding a wrench in one of their claws and some sort of strap slung over a shoulder, Zylen assumed him to be some sort of mechanic.
As he read the file, he found this individual served as an architect, often aiding in construction projects on his own designs. Going by Rolt Wander, the Wildclaw had graduated top of his class, and while he had created many successful office designs in the Shifting Expanse, it was his outside works that brought him renown. Consisting of precariously fragile balancing acts of pieces and parts, these ‘buildings’ served more as art than livable spaces. After receiving private funding for one such design, the resulting structure collapsed within the month, killing three. His fame and recommendations stripped, he was cast away as a shameful excuse for an architect and never heard from again.
As he put down the first grouping of paper, Elanor passed a second to him to read. This stack was shorter, but consisted of old statements from the archivist before Darryn. Of the six provided, four discussed strange living spaces. Each located deep in the wilderness, away from large clans, they stuck out as if some sort of beacon, beckoning those lost to use them as shelter for the night. Consisting of nigh impossible shapes and forms, most were wary to approach, and were greeted to a horrible reality when they entered. None were able to put it in any describable words, the archivist’s personal notes stating great distress when attempting to recall what had been observed by those who entered.
There were two exceptions to this format in the form of the final two statements. The first was an account of a similar indescribable interior of a building, however this one took on the appearance of an innocent looking cabin, designed for two medium-sized dragons to live in. Welcoming, the individual described entering the home and instead of a cozy interior, found themselves lost, as if in a maze of insidious design. They attempted to get their bearings, only to feel watched, beginning and continuing to run until they found the exit again. Nearly passing out in that time, they eventually escaped, finding dawn on the horizon as they found themselves outside one more. Looking back, the cabin still remained, door shut and curtains over the window.
The second exception was similar to the previous one, but this time it had been one of the few recovered papers from Darryn’s time. The statement was incomplete, missing its last page, but it told a similar story. A dragon lost inside the interior of an innocuous house out in the wild away from any noteworthy clans. However, when they attempted to recall information on the interior, they were unable to, befuddled like the others before them, save for one detail. They remembered climbing a set of stairs, being able to see the top, only to never reach them. Always completing a loop and looking up to find themselves progressing no closer to the top. And when they attempted to descend, the same occurred, leaving them trapped. That is, until they jumped through the center, only for their memories to fail once more.
Being handed no further papers, Elanor waved for him to stand, her following suit. She spoke up once the two had found themselves on one of the many stone-laid paths around the manor grounds, “Do you want to know why Rolt of all dragons took my interest?”
“That would be a good start I suppose,” Zylen let his fans finally fall, keeping his left fans extended in inquiry.
“Holt once worked on a project for the company I worked at before I came here,” there was steely calm in her eyes, “He was before my time, but he left his mark on my workplace.”
“How so?”
“There was a small storage building,” he could tell Elanor was struggling to remember exact details, “I don’t remember much of the space from the couple times I was called there to grab an individual or an object, but it was...odd to say the least. Then there were the rumors.” She let out a sigh, one that Zylen couldn’t quite read the emotions behind.
“Did you not believe them?” He pried, wondering if she held the same distaste for rumors as the Spiral he had met the night before.
“At first,” he watched her grind her teeth before speaking again, “Then I came here and stumbled across all of this. Rolt’s file is one I grabbed from sources I have, but the rest is from here, starting with Darryn’s statement. After I dug up more, I decided to see if it aligned with what I knew about him.”
“And what of the rumors? Similar to what you read in the statements?”
“Somewhat,” she frowned, “His reason for being stripped of his architectural permissions was infamous around circles such as mine. Of course the one building on-site that he had created had rumors of dragons getting lost or even going missing. The two confirmed missing dragons in the site’s history were always tied to ‘the Wander building’ instead of something more reasonable. However, now, with what I know, there may be more truth to their words.”
Zylen caught something that didn’t quite line up, “Wouldn’t that building be before the incident though?”
Elanor shook her head, “Before the incident, sure, but not before the time he had begun to slip. To create and design such bizarre structures. You know what gets me though?”
“Shoot,” Zylen raised his fans, expressing a sort of false eagerness that hid the knots in his stomach.
“His outside designs, no matter how bizarre, make sense,” she looked up at the Fae, lost in her confusion, “I want to know how he did that to the inside of the buildings.”
Apollyon knew he was dreaming.
He knew how to lucid dream. He had been taught how to and learned naturally. He’d be able to manipulate the dreamscape and move as he pleased. But he couldn’t. Not tonight. He was trapped. Restrained. Something wanted him to see what was around him.
And that was flame.
It was unnatural. Fire spreads and consumes but it doesn’t linger. Not like he saw. Eating away at the trees. The grass. The bodies. Oh so many bodies. They weren’t real. They were no cause of concern for him. The fire was the threat. He could not be invincible as he was used to. Not tonight.
Dodging the tongues of flame, around the ashes and embers that jumped for his eyes. His small body made it easy. He had been blessed with his form. With his magic. Taught to respect his power and the responsibility that followed. But it had limits. The all-consuming power of fire was one such limit. He was not invincible. Not tonight. Not here.
Coiling through the air, he daintily hopped from the branches yet to collapse. He was here to see something. The wall of heat behind him pushed him there. Turning back wasn’t an option. Taking the unintended path brought only more fire. He wasn’t the one in control here. Not here. Not tonight.
He found a clearing. One untouched by flame yet covered in dry brittle grass. There was nothing here. Nothing for him. Fire approaching from all sides, he could see the end. But it stopped. Tongues of fire licked the outside of the clearing. The grass should be alight. Forcing him aloft. But it wasn’t. A figure walked out to greet him. One of coal and ash and bone. One that smelled of smoke and burning and death. Fire poured from their eyes. Smoke roiled out from their mouth and chest. Embers flew and ashes fell from the bones.
He stared in fear. A deep fear. Internal fear. Something primal. The fear was not born from his thoughts. He did not mentally fear the thing in front of him. But his body did. He tried to run. Tried to escape. But it was too late. He caught flame. Indescribable pain rising from his body. The burning and falling of flesh. The sight of his claws burned to the bone. Spreading farther and deeper until….
Until….
He bolted awake. He didn’t scream. But his chest pounded. It wasn’t real. It was a dream. A nightmare. One he couldn’t control. One in which he was told something. But what he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He was alive. He didn’t die.
Edit: I am so sorry I forgot the warnings for the nightmares
So Apollyon got marked by the Desolation. He's also a lucid dreamer, who would've guessed. In other news, finally got answers on the individual Elanor was seeking! Turns out she's familiar with this "Rolt" character she stumbled across, and what she's managed to gather (and be willing to share) has left her puzzled and concerned.
Next mission's assigned tomorrow if I post. I wonder what that will bring? Vacation started today, but it looks like I'll be at least somewhat open in the evening most nights. Hopefully it'll give me enough time to type entries. If not, oh well.
[center][b]Day 75[/b]
[item=Intricate Woodsculpt]
[b]Content Warnings: Maggots, insect burrowing, corpse mention, breaking bones[/b][/center]
“I don’t like this.”
Zylen didn’t want to voice his opinion, but after hearing the letter containing their newest task, there was no way he couldn’t. More strange notes had arrived at Rook’s Coven for them to recover, read, and stow in their archives. He could still vividly recall Clancy dying in front of him after reading the last set handed over to them. He wasn’t going to have the same thing happen again, regardless of how well-meaning the professor’s words were.
Thankfully, despite their recent fighting, Clancy joined him in protest, “Me neither. Speaking from first hand experience here, but I’m lucky to be alive after reading the last ones. There’s no way we’re going to be picking these up, let alone reading them. Not without knowing they’re safe.”
Enlightened by the news of what happened to Clancy, the more recent additions to the household looked back and forth between her and the staff in a mix of disbelief and horror. All save Thorn, who Zylen could read as disappointed but had no idea as to why. Either his fellow Fae had experienced something similar in the past, or held expectations with the professor that failed to be met or had been broken since arriving. Meanwhile Mariela was appalled, having the most hands on experience with Clancy since arriving.
There was little the staff member could do to convince the group of them to partake in the mission assigned to them, let alone perform what Saile had asked. While the collective arguments and questioning quickly shifted to the professor himself and the trust they could have in him, everything remained relatively civil. He did make a note of Howl’s discomfort in the entire situation, clearly wanting to leave but stuck between those still in the heat of the moment. However, everything quieted down when Elanor left her seat and strolled up to the servant, who looked back at her with fear.
The room silent now, she held out one of her claws, “I’ll do it.”
“But Miss Sykion, you weren’t assigned to the task,” the Nocturne timidly replied.
“Would you rather no one do it then?” She looked back around the room at the others she knew were not up to the task. “Certainly a willing volunteer is better than none. Besides, I’m the archivist,” she gave a disarming smile, “I’ll be reading the papers anyways so I know where to put them.”
Nervously handing over the letter, the staff member spoke up again, “You sure about this? You're the mansion’s [i]archivist[/i] of all positions.”
“Yes,” Zylen caught the frustrated twitch of the Tundra’s tail. She was unhappy under the smile and cheerful tone, “Besides, the professor still sends out Zylen and he’s the [i]librarian[/i]. If one supposedly important position can partake in such tasks, so can I or Micah. I’m not going to some far away clan or to some ruins out in the wilderness. This is Rook’s Coven, a branch of the institute. It can’t certainly be that bad for me to go out and stretch my legs there.”
Her words put the courier at ease, “Alright Miss Sykion, I trust you. You better inform the professor of this development in your report though. It’s not our job to inform him of who took part in the task assigned to them.”
And like that, letter in hand, Elanor left the dining hall, the servant practically fleeing moments later. His other coworkers returned to their food or left as well, the hall quiet for the rest of the meal service. Catching worried glances from Clancy and Jeremiah, he guessed the source was Elanor’s decision, both holding concern for her wellbeing. He’d likely talk to the two about it later, but the Fae wished to speak with the archivist first before he did with either of them.
As expected, rather than the archives, he found Elanor in the library, sitting at the table near his office. She fumbled with the letter in her claws, wearing her displeasure and frustration more clearly now as her tail lashed back and forth. Alerting her to his presence, he watched her turn her head enough to glance back at him. Even with how little he could see of her face, he could feel her gaze burrowing into him. She wanted him to sit.
Perching at the table, she spoke up, “I’m not going to be back tonight like you probably expect.” Her voice was cold and bitter, eyes refusing to look up from the letter in her talons, “If staff won’t give us answers, and the professor is going to remain silent, I will pry it out from other sources.” She gave a rather malicious smirk, “I’m happy to go alone. I don’t think anyone needs to see what I’m going to do. In fact,” she looked up at him, the small toothy smile remaining, “you may be the only one who has the slightest idea what I’m thinking of.”
Zylen knew he was supposed to be afraid. His body didn’t allow the feeling today though, “Yes, I am aware of such interrogation techniques.” He tried to keep his opinions and thoughts to himself as he spoke. Elanor had already made up her mind, “If you could even call them that. Do go easy on the poor soul you victimize though. They aren’t the ones telling us these things. May not even be involved besides the notes.”
“Oh you assume I’m going to Rook’s Coven for this.” She let out a low chuckle, “No. I’ll grab the notes, but I’m not staying there. I’m headed for the Corvus Institute. Ideally I’d find Saile himself, but I’m sure any one of his assistants or coworker friends will suffice.”
“I thought you didn’t turn on your friends and allies” His fans faltered as he spoke, remembering the Tundra’s discussion from weeks prior.
“Well you see,” she put down the letter, placing her elbows on the table and clasping her claws together. Her gaze pierced his very being, and even in his defensively emotionless state he shuddered in fear, “I still trust you. You don’t lie to me. You don’t hide secrets from me. You don’t keep [i]vital information[/i] from me. Saile’s made a mistake in thinking he can keep throwing us at clearly dangerous tasks and expect us to blindly trust his every word. I’ll make sure he never does so again.”
“And if you don’t get the information you’re after?”
She frowned, clenching her claws tightly, “I don’t think you understand how I work Zylen Myst,” she gave his last name a pronounced click. Her eyes continued to bore into his own, unmoving and nigh unblinking. “I’m not coming back here until I do.”
-------------
She was being punished.
Caught for her crimes and cast into a pit, Elanor awoke to darkness and the smell of earth. Her wings injured beyond being capable of flight and then tightly bound for good measure, so far she only knew she was alone. Looking up revealed the way out, sky impossibly far away from her position. Catching glimpses of movement, she assumed she was in some sort of forest.
Of course, her immediate first idea was to attempt to climb out of the hole. Her captors were foolish to throw her in a hole dug straight out of the ground, with no clear defensive measures at play. Her claws quickly finding purchase in the soft soil, she hoisted herself up, feeling how her weight held up when the walls were supporting it. Taking a tentative few steps up and finding no issues, she quickly returned to the floor.
She had found her way out. She’d have to wait until night fell to make her escape, but it would be easy enough. Chuckling, she took her time to begin clawing at the dirt. She knew of games she could play and art she could make to pass the time, even in the dim light of her ‘prison’. There were even leaves and twigs that had fallen in to add onto the ‘fun’ she’d have. However, as she continued, she caught on to something off about the hole she was in.
There were no bones.
For a place prisoners were taken and likely left to inevitably die, there were no signs of dragons that came before her. Suspicious, she began digging her own hole within the hole, soon uncovering the material she was after. Thinking to find relief in her discovery, she was only left with more concern for her situation.
There were maggots on the corpse she was digging into. Certainly a common sight for a recently deceased body, but buried like this, and on a body that was no more than bone? There was something off about the entire situation. She perhaps thought she was in the Wasteland, where adaptations were common to maximize survival, but the smell of the air, as earthy as it was, brought memories of the Sunbeam Ruins. This was no place for such creatures.
A pain erupted in her claws suddenly. Locating some of the maggots as the source, she quickly brushed what she could away, killing those that remained latched to her skin. Not wanting to deal with more, she tossed dirt over the body she interred, hoping it would stop anymore from seeing her as a food source. But it was too late.
The first of the worms burrowed their way out of the soil not long after being buried. Cursing, Elanor’s leisure was now ruined, as she had to keep the wriggling creatures from reaching her. It was to little effect though, as not long after that more began to wriggle out from the walls around her. Quickly becoming overwhelmed, and feeling one strike her fur from above, she resorting to climbing the walls again, seeing an early escape as her only way out. She’d either die to the dragons undeniably guarding the hole she was in, or to these disgusting things. At least the former would be quick and likely painless.
Pain coursed through her body as she began her ascent and more of the maggots latched onto her flesh. Gritting her teeth, she continued to climb, careful of the soil loosening as she continued upwards. She was making good progress despite the accumulating bugs on her arms and legs. Fortune was against her today however, as multiple of the small larvae fell onto her face, quickly seeking out her eyes, nose, and mouth to burrow inside of her. Out of instinct she went to swat them away, but the sudden movement was enough to cause the dirt to begin to slide, and before long, she had lost all grip on the wall.
She didn’t need to hear the snap of bones breaking as she hit the ground to know she was trapped for good now. New pain flooding her body, she now did her best to keep the maggots at bay, their numbers only growing as her task grew more and more futile. She thought a discharge of her lightning magic would be enough to kill those around her and have the others leave her be, but she was only greeted with more as the previous ones were killed. Overwhelmed and energy draining quickly, realization soon hit her that she [i]was[/i] going to die here. It was going to be slow. It was going to be painful. And worst of all, she was going to feel every moment of her demise.
As she felt the maggots crawl under her skin and deeper within her body, she screamed.
When she woke up, Elanor looked distastefully at the hastily made bed of leaves she had fallen asleep on. Frowning at what she believed to be the cause of her nightmare, she deterred it, finding nothing besides some crickets and a couple earthworms. Sighing and not wanting to risk another nightmare, she took a few moments to look around. It wasn’t long until she found the remains of a recently felled tree, dressing the stump left behind in foliage before using it as her new bed.
She had things to take care of in the morning, and she was not about to have it ruined by a lack of sleep.
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@Galehaut @TrashMomma @Spectator @megara17 @Jetdrana @CirrusAscending @Tynethyne @Drachenschwinge @nekopallet @MisterMylez
I had intended to save posting an update until tomorrow and making it a double post as a way to return to this, but nope, had too much fun tonight!
As for how vacation went, turns out I got to hotels much later every night following this one. Between what little free time I had, how early I needed to get up to be out of the hotel, the day's activities, and the driving time between stops, it quickly became impossible to update this. After a bit of rest though, I'm back! Can't wait to write for the crew again.
Back onto the Pinkerlocke itself, I'm actually surprised by my rolls tonight, as this was an event I thought would happen [i]much[/i] later in the story. It had already been set up whenever Clancy received her third and final mark, something I'd play with later when Rook's Coven got involved again. But instead the rolls were against me. So now it's time for Elanor to go and do her thing. Maybe she'll get answers, maybe she'll disappear for a while.
Finally, thanks to the long drives, my boyfriend's help me flesh out the mansion and the estate around it a lot! The results of these conversations likely won't show up anytime soon, but there have been a lot more rooms and locations on the mansion's grounds added! Huzzah for bouncing information back and forth while on 4 to 8 hour drives. [s]I ought to take fully fleshed notes on this at some point, but that's something for future me.[/s]
I'm excited to continue tomorrow! Hopefully Pinkerton (and work) is nice to me.
A sculpture of solid ash wood in the shape of an Ophiotaurus.
41
Content Warnings: Maggots, insect burrowing, corpse mention, breaking bones
“I don’t like this.”
Zylen didn’t want to voice his opinion, but after hearing the letter containing their newest task, there was no way he couldn’t. More strange notes had arrived at Rook’s Coven for them to recover, read, and stow in their archives. He could still vividly recall Clancy dying in front of him after reading the last set handed over to them. He wasn’t going to have the same thing happen again, regardless of how well-meaning the professor’s words were.
Thankfully, despite their recent fighting, Clancy joined him in protest, “Me neither. Speaking from first hand experience here, but I’m lucky to be alive after reading the last ones. There’s no way we’re going to be picking these up, let alone reading them. Not without knowing they’re safe.”
Enlightened by the news of what happened to Clancy, the more recent additions to the household looked back and forth between her and the staff in a mix of disbelief and horror. All save Thorn, who Zylen could read as disappointed but had no idea as to why. Either his fellow Fae had experienced something similar in the past, or held expectations with the professor that failed to be met or had been broken since arriving. Meanwhile Mariela was appalled, having the most hands on experience with Clancy since arriving.
There was little the staff member could do to convince the group of them to partake in the mission assigned to them, let alone perform what Saile had asked. While the collective arguments and questioning quickly shifted to the professor himself and the trust they could have in him, everything remained relatively civil. He did make a note of Howl’s discomfort in the entire situation, clearly wanting to leave but stuck between those still in the heat of the moment. However, everything quieted down when Elanor left her seat and strolled up to the servant, who looked back at her with fear.
The room silent now, she held out one of her claws, “I’ll do it.”
“But Miss Sykion, you weren’t assigned to the task,” the Nocturne timidly replied.
“Would you rather no one do it then?” She looked back around the room at the others she knew were not up to the task. “Certainly a willing volunteer is better than none. Besides, I’m the archivist,” she gave a disarming smile, “I’ll be reading the papers anyways so I know where to put them.”
Nervously handing over the letter, the staff member spoke up again, “You sure about this? You're the mansion’s archivist of all positions.”
“Yes,” Zylen caught the frustrated twitch of the Tundra’s tail. She was unhappy under the smile and cheerful tone, “Besides, the professor still sends out Zylen and he’s the librarian. If one supposedly important position can partake in such tasks, so can I or Micah. I’m not going to some far away clan or to some ruins out in the wilderness. This is Rook’s Coven, a branch of the institute. It can’t certainly be that bad for me to go out and stretch my legs there.”
Her words put the courier at ease, “Alright Miss Sykion, I trust you. You better inform the professor of this development in your report though. It’s not our job to inform him of who took part in the task assigned to them.”
And like that, letter in hand, Elanor left the dining hall, the servant practically fleeing moments later. His other coworkers returned to their food or left as well, the hall quiet for the rest of the meal service. Catching worried glances from Clancy and Jeremiah, he guessed the source was Elanor’s decision, both holding concern for her wellbeing. He’d likely talk to the two about it later, but the Fae wished to speak with the archivist first before he did with either of them.
As expected, rather than the archives, he found Elanor in the library, sitting at the table near his office. She fumbled with the letter in her claws, wearing her displeasure and frustration more clearly now as her tail lashed back and forth. Alerting her to his presence, he watched her turn her head enough to glance back at him. Even with how little he could see of her face, he could feel her gaze burrowing into him. She wanted him to sit.
Perching at the table, she spoke up, “I’m not going to be back tonight like you probably expect.” Her voice was cold and bitter, eyes refusing to look up from the letter in her talons, “If staff won’t give us answers, and the professor is going to remain silent, I will pry it out from other sources.” She gave a rather malicious smirk, “I’m happy to go alone. I don’t think anyone needs to see what I’m going to do. In fact,” she looked up at him, the small toothy smile remaining, “you may be the only one who has the slightest idea what I’m thinking of.”
Zylen knew he was supposed to be afraid. His body didn’t allow the feeling today though, “Yes, I am aware of such interrogation techniques.” He tried to keep his opinions and thoughts to himself as he spoke. Elanor had already made up her mind, “If you could even call them that. Do go easy on the poor soul you victimize though. They aren’t the ones telling us these things. May not even be involved besides the notes.”
“Oh you assume I’m going to Rook’s Coven for this.” She let out a low chuckle, “No. I’ll grab the notes, but I’m not staying there. I’m headed for the Corvus Institute. Ideally I’d find Saile himself, but I’m sure any one of his assistants or coworker friends will suffice.”
“I thought you didn’t turn on your friends and allies” His fans faltered as he spoke, remembering the Tundra’s discussion from weeks prior.
“Well you see,” she put down the letter, placing her elbows on the table and clasping her claws together. Her gaze pierced his very being, and even in his defensively emotionless state he shuddered in fear, “I still trust you. You don’t lie to me. You don’t hide secrets from me. You don’t keep vital information from me. Saile’s made a mistake in thinking he can keep throwing us at clearly dangerous tasks and expect us to blindly trust his every word. I’ll make sure he never does so again.”
“And if you don’t get the information you’re after?”
She frowned, clenching her claws tightly, “I don’t think you understand how I work Zylen Myst,” she gave his last name a pronounced click. Her eyes continued to bore into his own, unmoving and nigh unblinking. “I’m not coming back here until I do.”
She was being punished.
Caught for her crimes and cast into a pit, Elanor awoke to darkness and the smell of earth. Her wings injured beyond being capable of flight and then tightly bound for good measure, so far she only knew she was alone. Looking up revealed the way out, sky impossibly far away from her position. Catching glimpses of movement, she assumed she was in some sort of forest.
Of course, her immediate first idea was to attempt to climb out of the hole. Her captors were foolish to throw her in a hole dug straight out of the ground, with no clear defensive measures at play. Her claws quickly finding purchase in the soft soil, she hoisted herself up, feeling how her weight held up when the walls were supporting it. Taking a tentative few steps up and finding no issues, she quickly returned to the floor.
She had found her way out. She’d have to wait until night fell to make her escape, but it would be easy enough. Chuckling, she took her time to begin clawing at the dirt. She knew of games she could play and art she could make to pass the time, even in the dim light of her ‘prison’. There were even leaves and twigs that had fallen in to add onto the ‘fun’ she’d have. However, as she continued, she caught on to something off about the hole she was in.
There were no bones.
For a place prisoners were taken and likely left to inevitably die, there were no signs of dragons that came before her. Suspicious, she began digging her own hole within the hole, soon uncovering the material she was after. Thinking to find relief in her discovery, she was only left with more concern for her situation.
There were maggots on the corpse she was digging into. Certainly a common sight for a recently deceased body, but buried like this, and on a body that was no more than bone? There was something off about the entire situation. She perhaps thought she was in the Wasteland, where adaptations were common to maximize survival, but the smell of the air, as earthy as it was, brought memories of the Sunbeam Ruins. This was no place for such creatures.
A pain erupted in her claws suddenly. Locating some of the maggots as the source, she quickly brushed what she could away, killing those that remained latched to her skin. Not wanting to deal with more, she tossed dirt over the body she interred, hoping it would stop anymore from seeing her as a food source. But it was too late.
The first of the worms burrowed their way out of the soil not long after being buried. Cursing, Elanor’s leisure was now ruined, as she had to keep the wriggling creatures from reaching her. It was to little effect though, as not long after that more began to wriggle out from the walls around her. Quickly becoming overwhelmed, and feeling one strike her fur from above, she resorting to climbing the walls again, seeing an early escape as her only way out. She’d either die to the dragons undeniably guarding the hole she was in, or to these disgusting things. At least the former would be quick and likely painless.
Pain coursed through her body as she began her ascent and more of the maggots latched onto her flesh. Gritting her teeth, she continued to climb, careful of the soil loosening as she continued upwards. She was making good progress despite the accumulating bugs on her arms and legs. Fortune was against her today however, as multiple of the small larvae fell onto her face, quickly seeking out her eyes, nose, and mouth to burrow inside of her. Out of instinct she went to swat them away, but the sudden movement was enough to cause the dirt to begin to slide, and before long, she had lost all grip on the wall.
She didn’t need to hear the snap of bones breaking as she hit the ground to know she was trapped for good now. New pain flooding her body, she now did her best to keep the maggots at bay, their numbers only growing as her task grew more and more futile. She thought a discharge of her lightning magic would be enough to kill those around her and have the others leave her be, but she was only greeted with more as the previous ones were killed. Overwhelmed and energy draining quickly, realization soon hit her that she was going to die here. It was going to be slow. It was going to be painful. And worst of all, she was going to feel every moment of her demise.
As she felt the maggots crawl under her skin and deeper within her body, she screamed.
When she woke up, Elanor looked distastefully at the hastily made bed of leaves she had fallen asleep on. Frowning at what she believed to be the cause of her nightmare, she deterred it, finding nothing besides some crickets and a couple earthworms. Sighing and not wanting to risk another nightmare, she took a few moments to look around. It wasn’t long until she found the remains of a recently felled tree, dressing the stump left behind in foliage before using it as her new bed.
I had intended to save posting an update until tomorrow and making it a double post as a way to return to this, but nope, had too much fun tonight!
As for how vacation went, turns out I got to hotels much later every night following this one. Between what little free time I had, how early I needed to get up to be out of the hotel, the day's activities, and the driving time between stops, it quickly became impossible to update this. After a bit of rest though, I'm back! Can't wait to write for the crew again.
Back onto the Pinkerlocke itself, I'm actually surprised by my rolls tonight, as this was an event I thought would happen much later in the story. It had already been set up whenever Clancy received her third and final mark, something I'd play with later when Rook's Coven got involved again. But instead the rolls were against me. So now it's time for Elanor to go and do her thing. Maybe she'll get answers, maybe she'll disappear for a while.
Finally, thanks to the long drives, my boyfriend's help me flesh out the mansion and the estate around it a lot! The results of these conversations likely won't show up anytime soon, but there have been a lot more rooms and locations on the mansion's grounds added! Huzzah for bouncing information back and forth while on 4 to 8 hour drives. I ought to take fully fleshed notes on this at some point, but that's something for future me.
I'm excited to continue tomorrow! Hopefully Pinkerton (and work) is nice to me.
Whelp, work killed me. Long story short, record breaking heat + major emergency + prolonged day + migraine = a very tired Henry. Hopefully it eases back up by tomorrow so I can get a post in then. I also hope the heat lets up for the rest of this week. Between accidental dehydration and the heat I nearly passed out multiple times. No promises for tomorrow. My health and wellbeing comes well before writing this.
Whelp, work killed me. Long story short, record breaking heat + major emergency + prolonged day + migraine = a very tired Henry. Hopefully it eases back up by tomorrow so I can get a post in then. I also hope the heat lets up for the rest of this week. Between accidental dehydration and the heat I nearly passed out multiple times. No promises for tomorrow. My health and wellbeing comes well before writing this.
