This night had been long. Longer then he could think possible. Somewhere between the state of dreams and memory recall, time like to freeze between the seconds. He like pretend they was really voids in that fragment of time, that ate away all thoughts that seemed to disappear for no reason. Hidden soldiers that snatched them up. Mortals rarely remembered it even happened. If things can be erased in a void, they never see it. Least not ordinary beings that followed linear
Time.
And here he was, living through those empty voids, where living memory like to taunt in loops. Rarely had it ever been "good" in any sense.
Tick . . .
Here Another Life, Fading Fast
Prince of the Flower Court. Come, dance with the King of Tarts!
We will tear him apart. Given him too many secrets.
Bloody battle field with an eternal. Chaos descends, will you never learn?
Inst this fun? Isnt this grand? About time we gave into such pleasure!
Lain in passionate embrace. Feel of the languid tail flicking to and fro.
Honestly hes probably thinking about how to devour our soul.
How droll you are! Fret about trival things. Take in stride, today we never die!
Your opinion is hardly worth a pinch of salt for firing a cantrip. Do make yourself useful and run along.
We never dreamed this to been our .. first choice.
You mean you. I desired non the such with individual that lacks less common sense than space hamsters.
What do you really think he wants with us?
Of course, the Master Fey'ri race! -- Don't buy into that. He would mate with /anything/ after all.
Your all leaving me conflicted. Just wanted something for myself for once.
Hes' going betray you like all the rest. At least your prepared. No complications with morals.
Awww, Argy the Angry! Your the one that tampered with his head! Could always ..take it all back.
Brigands, you both --Can't I just . .enjoy this moment? Mean us die in his arms?
Oh, how tantalizing! The best death, out of breath! One last kiss. Nothing amiss.
Hesitation. The mental fortress seems darker. What is this hue of red? Melethkanara?
Silence . .
Infused hatred. Is that our hand on the dagger? We need get him, before he takes us.
Shalafi? We was not there. We should not dream of dying, You go, we all go.
He would not care if we perished. Just another mortal. So fragile.--Favorite !
He is ..not enough. For us. There is nothing left. Our Sahabat rejected us . .
Best to end it now. We know what it was like. Hopeless. Despair. Loneliness
No! This all made me!
Perhaps that is for the best? We could let him watch even. Frozen memory in Sanguine
Ah ha! The Final Act! Plight, No more. We should! Could? Dead shall amuse him so . .
I think we been compromised. While all things do die, this is not for us. I implore you, please, imagine out of this!
Just that blade at our throat. No more pain.
I concede, why we the only one sane! Even I know he lament our loss.
He could feel his voice growing horse the more he called out for Melethkanara to help him.
Not to let them do this to him. He wished for the night, somebody was in bed with him to wake
from this torrid dream of half truths and manic depression. Just waking in the morning if he been
trapped in illusion or if it was insight of the future. The half elven cat sitting on his chest, having been clawing at him for the last hour to force him up.
Shalafi . .Come.
Anthriel Luthias-silver Reflections
-
*Lucadia
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Pain is Temporary they say . .
Dream like recall of the events leading up.
Its been months since the woman had died. Her throat slitted side to side and left lying upon the floor. The stench is terrible. Chitter of rats having had their job of feasting. Blood and smoldering fest-pool of disease, turning to a husk.
Only that my eyes had been staring at her the entire time and yet not see. Ears to hear and yet not catch the banging on the cells. The muttering under breath of dark curses best not uttered. Screams of pain or wails of despair. Those that long gone mad and hungry.
Hidden by a veil that few ever will know is there. Captive in a prison made of walls in gold. Sensation of being left in a void, drained in essence. Spirit and flesh bound without mind. How the sensation is strange now, given back to be whole again.
Physical memory now presses upon thy mind. Time slowly eroding away the vessels strength and one not knowing being separated. The last few months have been trying in ways I did not wish to imagine.
Did I perhaps bring this to myself and others? The status of being right when you tell someone your Idea.
"What if we never left that cell?" I told the half elven man. He looked at me like I lost my mind.
The irony is we all had in a sense. Here in thought, but not body nor spirit.
The spirit world paid no attention to one of the lost.
Echo of foot steps of the other pacing back and forth, forcing the few of us to be her captive audience.
You don't know the dark of it, when your put in the same cage as ex-Factol Tollysalmon. Her eyes look beyond to some unfathomable hole in the Multiverse. Long has she ever eaten except through psychic feeding. And Here I was, made to be a filter. A siphon. A mind leech to extend her power throughout Sigil.
Made to be a weapon against the weak willed of mind. How dare she make us a victim. Creature so far out of her mind, she sees only one end. Oblivion for all.
How I fell for the trap! Only to help a poor soul that been killed was our undoing. What be more curious for inquisitive mind then a murder case with no rhyme or reason, leading right to the Gatehouse.
How many inadvertent deaths attributed to this monstrosity am I responsible for while standing on the precipe of sanity of wanting to be free?
The ravages of time without food and water has done its toll up I. Perhaps this is fitting to be back-lashed all the suffering at once for not being able stop this sooner . .
Vessel atrophied from weeks without movement. Listless and drooling. Left as a meal for the rats to chew upon. Disease has set in, leaving but a feverish mind.Embarrassing.
Yet cursed to recall all that transpired now in thought and in body at once. Reliving it in reverie. I still acted while the mind wandered. This out of body experience brought so many intriguing ideas to the fore. Some rather macabre though. Experiments one does to the self to find out if you truely exist in a crisis. To bleed yourself out. To attempt to starve yourself. Drown. And then . .Well I may leave the sensation of skydiving off a mountain for the Sensates in my darkest hour.
Now all there is to do is wait. The only satisfaction to be known that creature was stabbed with a steely knife as the alarms screamed.
Inky black cat with misty breath slowly lumbers, padding on the wooden floors, claws clicking. Even more slowly in eyeing the bed, then leaps upon the folds of cloth, over looking the elf. She is ragged in body with loss of weight and difficulty in breathing just as her linked companion. Idle lick of her lips, perhaps to show her displeasure or ire at him, then just lays down, uttering a low groan in pain.
Dream like recall of the events leading up.
Its been months since the woman had died. Her throat slitted side to side and left lying upon the floor. The stench is terrible. Chitter of rats having had their job of feasting. Blood and smoldering fest-pool of disease, turning to a husk.
Only that my eyes had been staring at her the entire time and yet not see. Ears to hear and yet not catch the banging on the cells. The muttering under breath of dark curses best not uttered. Screams of pain or wails of despair. Those that long gone mad and hungry.
Hidden by a veil that few ever will know is there. Captive in a prison made of walls in gold. Sensation of being left in a void, drained in essence. Spirit and flesh bound without mind. How the sensation is strange now, given back to be whole again.
Physical memory now presses upon thy mind. Time slowly eroding away the vessels strength and one not knowing being separated. The last few months have been trying in ways I did not wish to imagine.
Did I perhaps bring this to myself and others? The status of being right when you tell someone your Idea.
"What if we never left that cell?" I told the half elven man. He looked at me like I lost my mind.
The irony is we all had in a sense. Here in thought, but not body nor spirit.
The spirit world paid no attention to one of the lost.
Echo of foot steps of the other pacing back and forth, forcing the few of us to be her captive audience.
You don't know the dark of it, when your put in the same cage as ex-Factol Tollysalmon. Her eyes look beyond to some unfathomable hole in the Multiverse. Long has she ever eaten except through psychic feeding. And Here I was, made to be a filter. A siphon. A mind leech to extend her power throughout Sigil.
Made to be a weapon against the weak willed of mind. How dare she make us a victim. Creature so far out of her mind, she sees only one end. Oblivion for all.
How I fell for the trap! Only to help a poor soul that been killed was our undoing. What be more curious for inquisitive mind then a murder case with no rhyme or reason, leading right to the Gatehouse.
How many inadvertent deaths attributed to this monstrosity am I responsible for while standing on the precipe of sanity of wanting to be free?
The ravages of time without food and water has done its toll up I. Perhaps this is fitting to be back-lashed all the suffering at once for not being able stop this sooner . .
Vessel atrophied from weeks without movement. Listless and drooling. Left as a meal for the rats to chew upon. Disease has set in, leaving but a feverish mind.Embarrassing.
Yet cursed to recall all that transpired now in thought and in body at once. Reliving it in reverie. I still acted while the mind wandered. This out of body experience brought so many intriguing ideas to the fore. Some rather macabre though. Experiments one does to the self to find out if you truely exist in a crisis. To bleed yourself out. To attempt to starve yourself. Drown. And then . .Well I may leave the sensation of skydiving off a mountain for the Sensates in my darkest hour.
Now all there is to do is wait. The only satisfaction to be known that creature was stabbed with a steely knife as the alarms screamed.
Inky black cat with misty breath slowly lumbers, padding on the wooden floors, claws clicking. Even more slowly in eyeing the bed, then leaps upon the folds of cloth, over looking the elf. She is ragged in body with loss of weight and difficulty in breathing just as her linked companion. Idle lick of her lips, perhaps to show her displeasure or ire at him, then just lays down, uttering a low groan in pain.
-
*Lucadia
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Mid Summers' Nights Dream . .
Just another lazy day for the even, this particular day being the Third Void of Narciss consisted of mocking benches, the somber tunes of the Vyse the tiefling, a more personal conversation with Miranda about his own non-existent family and warm greetings for Sahabat Quinn.
And while it had not been that unusual, a story book had dropped from the sky and Argent knowing what one of these was, perchance avoided it this day. Another Land of Fiction where stories become reality and figured he did not desire to be left a vilan again.
Now it was not that unusual for merchants to come hawking wears nor it being a kobold at all. Kip the kobold claiming to have treasures from his grandmother or some such. That he could sell maps to indescribable places. Maps galore. Maps of any type. Maps that led to secrets.
The Silvanesti was skeptical and curious at the same time. Mister Quinn had warned him to not buy any more maps of Limbo even if the elf retorted he was still looking for a fountain of chocolate and his love for the place.
So he picks out a blue map that has no name and not even a compass. Kip goes on to say the same as the elf. That it was special. Or So Argent imagined that it was special. Though he could not describe that the map done. That it was secret. Only the kobold tried following it once. And it led him to the best bottle of cold apple cider he ever had.
So it was, the elf considered, that the map led to ones hearts desires.
For a mere eight hundred jink, the map was his to do as he pleased. Oh the irony here is Argent could not figured out /how/ it worked. There was many speculations and theories. It was a map with no symbols but eight points of light. And lines. So many lines. Of each color. Deeper you looked, well the more lines of color that appeared. He considered he may just got conned until he imagined the merchant coming back and asked him!
And so it was, simple as picking a color. Any color and following it. The map changed showing the length left as you traversed the path, but it was tricky that it even lapped in circles, curves and straight edges at angles.
His excitement gathered several companions wanting to see where the map led as well. The feys Trissa and Aleis came to walk the path. This particular one led right into the Festhall of the Sensates and it was right into the pool. A portal appeared and just ..dived in.
Now what was found was another realm. A plane. Frozen perhaps. There was no chirps of life. Not a single bird call. No evidence of animals. Just Time and Stillness. Sense of Eternity, the lost. Shifted to the past. The night sky was not recognizable, the elf never seen a sky like that among all his spelljamming travel. Majestic and beyond words.
Here was a culture frozen at a last moment, before the next sunrise as catastrophe struck. Evidence of the people having lived in a greater society focused on exploration and enjoying themselves. There at center of the plaza was massive structure of a temple with stone guardians all u the rows of stars. Then a complex with telescopes all pointed to the top of the temple. Open fest place with pillows to allow the servants and commoners to mingle together. Where even the lowest class was taken care of.
It was solemn though knowing that the statues now littering the place was either real people or echos of the past. What could he do to help?
Course his companions was less for logic. They wanted to take the pretty crystals at the top of the temple as Argent gauged what the purpose was. As they gathered their treasure, he caught something in his eye. As he peered into the biggest crystal, a shadowy humanoid with wings flew by. As he figured it was a reflection he tried to look back. Now Trissa had told him he seen a white figure though. Carrying a scythe.
Course now that she disturbed the guardians, they had fight them all off. Only thing they got come away with as a prize was now a mysterious rune piece.
Just another lazy day for the even, this particular day being the Third Void of Narciss consisted of mocking benches, the somber tunes of the Vyse the tiefling, a more personal conversation with Miranda about his own non-existent family and warm greetings for Sahabat Quinn.
And while it had not been that unusual, a story book had dropped from the sky and Argent knowing what one of these was, perchance avoided it this day. Another Land of Fiction where stories become reality and figured he did not desire to be left a vilan again.
Now it was not that unusual for merchants to come hawking wears nor it being a kobold at all. Kip the kobold claiming to have treasures from his grandmother or some such. That he could sell maps to indescribable places. Maps galore. Maps of any type. Maps that led to secrets.
The Silvanesti was skeptical and curious at the same time. Mister Quinn had warned him to not buy any more maps of Limbo even if the elf retorted he was still looking for a fountain of chocolate and his love for the place.
So he picks out a blue map that has no name and not even a compass. Kip goes on to say the same as the elf. That it was special. Or So Argent imagined that it was special. Though he could not describe that the map done. That it was secret. Only the kobold tried following it once. And it led him to the best bottle of cold apple cider he ever had.
So it was, the elf considered, that the map led to ones hearts desires.
For a mere eight hundred jink, the map was his to do as he pleased. Oh the irony here is Argent could not figured out /how/ it worked. There was many speculations and theories. It was a map with no symbols but eight points of light. And lines. So many lines. Of each color. Deeper you looked, well the more lines of color that appeared. He considered he may just got conned until he imagined the merchant coming back and asked him!
And so it was, simple as picking a color. Any color and following it. The map changed showing the length left as you traversed the path, but it was tricky that it even lapped in circles, curves and straight edges at angles.
His excitement gathered several companions wanting to see where the map led as well. The feys Trissa and Aleis came to walk the path. This particular one led right into the Festhall of the Sensates and it was right into the pool. A portal appeared and just ..dived in.
Now what was found was another realm. A plane. Frozen perhaps. There was no chirps of life. Not a single bird call. No evidence of animals. Just Time and Stillness. Sense of Eternity, the lost. Shifted to the past. The night sky was not recognizable, the elf never seen a sky like that among all his spelljamming travel. Majestic and beyond words.
Here was a culture frozen at a last moment, before the next sunrise as catastrophe struck. Evidence of the people having lived in a greater society focused on exploration and enjoying themselves. There at center of the plaza was massive structure of a temple with stone guardians all u the rows of stars. Then a complex with telescopes all pointed to the top of the temple. Open fest place with pillows to allow the servants and commoners to mingle together. Where even the lowest class was taken care of.
It was solemn though knowing that the statues now littering the place was either real people or echos of the past. What could he do to help?
Course his companions was less for logic. They wanted to take the pretty crystals at the top of the temple as Argent gauged what the purpose was. As they gathered their treasure, he caught something in his eye. As he peered into the biggest crystal, a shadowy humanoid with wings flew by. As he figured it was a reflection he tried to look back. Now Trissa had told him he seen a white figure though. Carrying a scythe.
Course now that she disturbed the guardians, they had fight them all off. Only thing they got come away with as a prize was now a mysterious rune piece.
-
*Lucadia
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Two days before Ceremony Day:
There was nothing optimistic about this trip. Journey back to his birthplace. One hes not seen in a long time.
Piece of him thats dreaded the emotional fallout that would be tied with it or the guilt that was buried deep
down. His wife been at his ear for sometime though. That he should go back, see his mothers grave before they
had their ceremony. To talk to a spirit that may or may not been there.
Silvanost. City of a Thousand Spires once called. Heart of the Silvanesti homelands, liberated from dragons
more then three thousand years ago. Clans that pledged their loyalty to first leader and king and set their
society into Houses based on skillset.
One the city was home to over twenty five thousand souls. Homes of the housing, the entire city layout
was based on similar pattern found in nature. That of a plant cell. Concentric circles to support. Gleaming
towers that reflected the twin moons light at night. Shaped marble and crystal entwined with plantlife.
King Loracs folly destroyed perfection in just one evening. That evening that he had buried his mother under the garden.
Now so many years have passed.
Now he and wife stood in the center of the city. The trek had been perilous. Trudging through lands of
nature now reflecting the massive death of not only its people but the land they are tied to. Blood ichor
dripped from gnarled trees that stretched out like claws grasping its final grip in death.
The Than-Thalas stank as a sludgy swamp, the air clogged with chorlanic gas, remincient of a green dragons. Many spots around the city was now Wastes, covered in white ash that ignited with any flame. Residue left from the trees that had their life forces drained out.
What ever had happened after Lorac's nightmare that twisted their world into a new reality, a second destruction had stripped the place of the earths life. It pulled at the stones, the air, and at any travelers, thirsting to get more energy from being starved. Unsettling for any living creating to walk through.
Winding around the Garden of Astrin, once the center of the city under the Tower of Stars and his youth of life spent, he turned with his mate toward the House Gardener distrcit closer to the docks. Finding his old home, Danae cutting through the brush to get inside.
He lifted the seal that went below the floor. Just about every Silvanesti house contained personal crypts
for burial of family members. Here, house Luthias of Gardener has set empty for more then a century.
He lowered himself into the halls of the sanctum and then helped his wife down. The halls reacted to his
presence, the wards attuned this the families bloodline. Blue arcane light produced along the walls. Appears its not been disturbed at all.
The burial sanctum was also not that large. Fine masonry work for the walls that was dull grey with entwined columns. There appeared to be no seams. No dust lifted with their steps. Flower pots left bereft of anything living, the earth caked in dryness. They sat together in middle of the room, making conversation
to who or what ever would hear in that chamber.
Argent kept brushing his hand on the ground, speaking to Ze'lara his mother, keeping his expressions reserved for all the confusion that was pushed to back of his mind. Danae would speak as well, giving him comfort.
He spoke in soft tones in the native tongue. Telling the giver and source of his life, how much he missed her. Things that had transpired that had made it impossible for him to come back. How much he was in love with an half elf, apologizing it may be end of this families bloodline and hope she understood the transgression his kin would think. That it was worth his happiness.
At last that could be said for time was short in the hostile place, he knelt forward, placing his palms on the smooth flooring. Crossing his hands over and closure of his eyes.Tendrils of energy and green light crept along his long fingers gently illuminating the room. It was silent for a long moment.
The light slid along the floor, up the walls and over the terraces while waiting. Ears would pick up rustle of dirt as it shifted and continued wait. Dormant seeds took root and pushed way to surface, sprouting in myrid of herbs and plants. Great ears and lillies. Medicinal herbs and holly.
Fresh vines as they creeped out planters and dangled outside the box. The barren place now had greenry all down the walls and concentric walls of pots in the room. Transformed into atrium. Marigolds and sunflowers dotted in the bright blue and violet hues of decoratal flowers.
What surprised the Silvanesti is his palms was being pushed up, the earth cracking to let room for the new
foundling seed he had not suspected.
His hands got lifted as it came up under, translucent crystalline flower or mineral taking shape. The petals creaked as it unfolded, remnecient of iris or lady slippers. He had not looked feeling he did not want cut the magic short until Danae urged him in her own surprise. The crystaline flower lays open now with a new thing at its core, just laying there with braided silver chain.
An Eight pointed starjewel with dull light rested with encrusted jewel tips. The core made of it as many faceted black opal that revealed the polished rainbow. Pearl inlayed with the device. He tentatively reached for the sacred object, then grasping it to himself.
For more then a turn, he been reaching through the dream world attempting to summon this item to his reality but in his life he had only known it as simple opal his mother kept. Realization that it was a starjewel, she had hidden it in plain view with illusionary magic to appear just as that.
What was a trinket he knew in his lifetime back then that he wanted to keep of his mother was now more then that. The only link he had to a father he never knew. The gem glinted with the well kept secret. The soul fragment given to his mother.
The stone whispered . .
Stardust.
There was nothing optimistic about this trip. Journey back to his birthplace. One hes not seen in a long time.
Piece of him thats dreaded the emotional fallout that would be tied with it or the guilt that was buried deep
down. His wife been at his ear for sometime though. That he should go back, see his mothers grave before they
had their ceremony. To talk to a spirit that may or may not been there.
Silvanost. City of a Thousand Spires once called. Heart of the Silvanesti homelands, liberated from dragons
more then three thousand years ago. Clans that pledged their loyalty to first leader and king and set their
society into Houses based on skillset.
One the city was home to over twenty five thousand souls. Homes of the housing, the entire city layout
was based on similar pattern found in nature. That of a plant cell. Concentric circles to support. Gleaming
towers that reflected the twin moons light at night. Shaped marble and crystal entwined with plantlife.
King Loracs folly destroyed perfection in just one evening. That evening that he had buried his mother under the garden.
Now so many years have passed.
Now he and wife stood in the center of the city. The trek had been perilous. Trudging through lands of
nature now reflecting the massive death of not only its people but the land they are tied to. Blood ichor
dripped from gnarled trees that stretched out like claws grasping its final grip in death.
The Than-Thalas stank as a sludgy swamp, the air clogged with chorlanic gas, remincient of a green dragons. Many spots around the city was now Wastes, covered in white ash that ignited with any flame. Residue left from the trees that had their life forces drained out.
What ever had happened after Lorac's nightmare that twisted their world into a new reality, a second destruction had stripped the place of the earths life. It pulled at the stones, the air, and at any travelers, thirsting to get more energy from being starved. Unsettling for any living creating to walk through.
Winding around the Garden of Astrin, once the center of the city under the Tower of Stars and his youth of life spent, he turned with his mate toward the House Gardener distrcit closer to the docks. Finding his old home, Danae cutting through the brush to get inside.
He lifted the seal that went below the floor. Just about every Silvanesti house contained personal crypts
for burial of family members. Here, house Luthias of Gardener has set empty for more then a century.
He lowered himself into the halls of the sanctum and then helped his wife down. The halls reacted to his
presence, the wards attuned this the families bloodline. Blue arcane light produced along the walls. Appears its not been disturbed at all.
The burial sanctum was also not that large. Fine masonry work for the walls that was dull grey with entwined columns. There appeared to be no seams. No dust lifted with their steps. Flower pots left bereft of anything living, the earth caked in dryness. They sat together in middle of the room, making conversation
to who or what ever would hear in that chamber.
Argent kept brushing his hand on the ground, speaking to Ze'lara his mother, keeping his expressions reserved for all the confusion that was pushed to back of his mind. Danae would speak as well, giving him comfort.
He spoke in soft tones in the native tongue. Telling the giver and source of his life, how much he missed her. Things that had transpired that had made it impossible for him to come back. How much he was in love with an half elf, apologizing it may be end of this families bloodline and hope she understood the transgression his kin would think. That it was worth his happiness.
At last that could be said for time was short in the hostile place, he knelt forward, placing his palms on the smooth flooring. Crossing his hands over and closure of his eyes.Tendrils of energy and green light crept along his long fingers gently illuminating the room. It was silent for a long moment.
The light slid along the floor, up the walls and over the terraces while waiting. Ears would pick up rustle of dirt as it shifted and continued wait. Dormant seeds took root and pushed way to surface, sprouting in myrid of herbs and plants. Great ears and lillies. Medicinal herbs and holly.
Fresh vines as they creeped out planters and dangled outside the box. The barren place now had greenry all down the walls and concentric walls of pots in the room. Transformed into atrium. Marigolds and sunflowers dotted in the bright blue and violet hues of decoratal flowers.
What surprised the Silvanesti is his palms was being pushed up, the earth cracking to let room for the new
foundling seed he had not suspected.
His hands got lifted as it came up under, translucent crystalline flower or mineral taking shape. The petals creaked as it unfolded, remnecient of iris or lady slippers. He had not looked feeling he did not want cut the magic short until Danae urged him in her own surprise. The crystaline flower lays open now with a new thing at its core, just laying there with braided silver chain.
An Eight pointed starjewel with dull light rested with encrusted jewel tips. The core made of it as many faceted black opal that revealed the polished rainbow. Pearl inlayed with the device. He tentatively reached for the sacred object, then grasping it to himself.
For more then a turn, he been reaching through the dream world attempting to summon this item to his reality but in his life he had only known it as simple opal his mother kept. Realization that it was a starjewel, she had hidden it in plain view with illusionary magic to appear just as that.
What was a trinket he knew in his lifetime back then that he wanted to keep of his mother was now more then that. The only link he had to a father he never knew. The gem glinted with the well kept secret. The soul fragment given to his mother.
The stone whispered . .
Stardust.