isleofavalon | January catch-all (open)

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January catch-all (open)

WHO: Emet-Selch and whoever
WHAT: Questing and getting up to (hopefully minimal) trouble
WHEN: January
WHERE: Camelot area
WARNINGS: Implied body horror for first prompt. There may be mild spoilers so let me know if that's something you want to avoid.

1. Bridge to the Other Side (Knight quest)

If he were in possession of his true magicks, Emet-Selch thinks sourly to himself as he gazes up at the bridge trolls surrounding him, then these beasts would be vanquished without a second thought.

The one in front of him leers and jabs a blunt finger in his face. "Hand over yer valuables if ye know what's good fer ye, little man."

He's sure that the brutes would be more intimidating to someone of shorter stature. Frankly, they would be intimidating to most anyone possessed of weaker wills. Emet-Selch, however, is not intimidated.

"I'm afraid I really must get by," he says evenly. "Don't you have better things to do with your time? Say, slavering over whatever it is you things eat?"

This produces a raucous round of grunts and laughter. Sighing, the Ascian unbelts his grimoire and flips through the pages to a new alchemy circle he has drawn for this precise situation. Actually, while he's at it...

"To me," he says quietly. His familiar materialises out of a swirl of shadows with a growl. At his silent command, it starts to glow and ripple violet. Emet-Selch's eyes glow bright gold and an arcane wind whips up around them, forcing the less self-assured trolls to back up a step and look on fearfully. A strangled gasp. He doubles over, convulsing - the gwiber joins itself to him, body and all, granting him part of its form and its power.

He is still a man, but he is also a dragon. His eyes gleam bright violet with gold edging, wings tear their way out of the back of his vest and shirt, flashes of dark indigo scaling harden across swathes of skin, and his hands and feet grow into thick, lethal claws. Most importantly, however, power thrums through him. Not nearly the same as what he ought to possess, but enough.

"Shall we see what I can make of your blood and bone?" he says, before bursting out into a guttural laugh. He holds the grimoire out before him, readying his spell for whoever attacks him first.

2. Shadlin Shakers (Knight quest)

It's quiet in the woods. Too quiet. During the day they had been unremarkable, and someone with less care for their work may have been content to leave it at that and leave before dark fell. However Emet-Selch, for all his laziness, believes in doing a job properly. He comes to the woods in the late afternoon and stays until night darkens the land. There are many creatures who won't show themselves except under cover of darkness. It is these creatures he wishes to see - if aught exist.

Fortunately for him, they seem to indeed. He can see and feel their eyes staring at him from out of the shadows. They aren't too unnerving at first, but the deeper he heads into the woods, the more their gazes bother him. He has grown used to making himself the centre of attention (for the greater good of his people) but he always had moments of reprieve. Private moments to himself and spaces to retreat to when it grew too much. Ultimately, the silent blinking eyes of the Dusklight Woods grows unbearable and he finds himself pivoting about, shouting.

"Are you quite done staring?!"

3. Reflections in Crystal (Mirror, Mirror TDM prompt)

Another cave. Emet-Selch strides in without a second thought, wishing people would stop hiding precious commodities in these dank sorts of places. Things would be so much easier if they had their necessary materials somewhere easily accessible.

Just as he's thinking this, an image begins to form before him. He halts, frowning suspiciously as the image wavers, clears, and materialises upon the ground. Not just one but many scattered all about the floor of the cave. Bodies. Cloaked in the dark robes of his people but he knows by their heights that they aren't his people.

"What trickery is this?" he mutters, walking over to one and nudging it over with his foot. It rolls over, white, nondescript mask falling from their face to reveal a lifeless Felih.

He reels to his feet. Checking the others reveals more familiar faces: those of the people he has grudgingly allowed himself to care about. Irhya, Jophrey, the matriarch, and more from long, long ago in his past. And past them all...someone standing before an altar to Zodiark, dressed in Ascian robes with a jagged staff of violet crystal in one hand, made again in the image of his god. He knows who it is before they turn around.

Is that how he looked like before? Cold, lifeless eyes behind a red mask sweeping detachedly across the dead. His illusory self fixes its gaze upon him last.

"Necessary sacrifices to bring back our star," the other him says. "Mere fragments, unworthy of your time."

There's another figure lying on the altar behind them. He steps around and feels his stomach drop. The name slips from his lips before he can stop himself.

"Hythlodaeus..."

Lying bloodied and mangled, as he remembers seeing them in the aftermath of the Final Days. But it's clear Hythlodaeus is not part of the other sacrifices littering the cave floor. No, those sacrifices are for him. His people. To bring them back to life.

He backs away feeling numb. This is the cost, writ plain as day. He has succeeded in ignoring it for so long but the toll is laid out for him to see. Everywhere he turns, another body. Closer to the walls, they pile so high as to nearly reach the ceiling. If he were to approach and turn over each one, he's sure he would recognise every face.

The other him lays an ethereal hand on his shoulder and leans in, whispering. "Why do you hesitate? Are you afraid? Then allow me to dispel your doubts..."

It raises its staff and the staff begins to glow. Emet-Selch doesn't seem to notice, rooted in place as he is and staring at the countless bodies stretching before him.

4. Wildcard

If you have other ideas for a thread using prompts either from the questboard or the TDM, send me a PM.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hythlodaeus frowns slightly behind his mask. He does still remember Irhya's concerns on the day they talked about this matter - could it still be plaguing her? He shoots Hades a look. Did he apologize to Irhya proper?

"Oh, he does try to direct attention away from himself. But he certainly is the most fun one to tease! He gets embarrassed really easily, even now. Those twelve millennia might as well not have happened!"

Hades doesn't notice the look, perplexed as he is with Irhya's sudden reticence. Did he say something wrong again?

"Fool. Anyone would be embarrassed by the nonsense which comes out of your mouth," he says disdainfully. "You have so little shame that you stripped out in the open without a moment's thought. I imagine more than your shirt would have come off too if I hadn't warned you off doing so."

That remark does make her laugh, but she doesn't loosen her posture. They really are good for each other, aren't they? She can't really be mad about that.

"Well, it lends credence to the idea he'd give you the shirt off his back if you needed it." She smiles thinly. "Doesn't that count for something?"

"Well, he was certainly not the one who needed the shirt. Do you notice how masterfully he weaves his words, Irhya? Yet leaves out the most important detail, which is that the only reason I had to strip was because he'd pushed me into a lake! In the midst of winter! Can you believe that?"

He's being overdramatic about it, but still, wow!

Ah, and now he allows himself a broader smirk. He's very proud of that moment, thank you.

"Oh hush, 'tis impossible for idiots to catch cold," he says smugly. "I certainly didn't hear you complaining up until the moment you fell in." Glancing sidelong at Irhya, he adds, "Unsurprisingly, as I had a good teacher."

He makes sure she's looking at him before he licks his lips and smiles.

"Eh? I mean-- of course!"

Gods, why does he have to do this to her while she's having an internal conflict? Her ears prick up again, then lower as she grins, a little tepid.

"But you kept him warm after that, right?"

Deflection. Hades won't pick it up, she's sure, but she isn't quite as certain about Hythlodaeus. He may very well notice she's trying to be subtle about it, especially when she's already told him her thoughts on the matter.

Fortunately, Hythlodaeus is less stupid in some matters than his friend, and tries to come to Irhya's aid.

"About as warm as a damp towel on a winter day, which was what I got from him. I think he ought to learn from yourself or Felih when it comes to taking care of people!"

He throws his hands up in exasperation. "Your shirt was wet. Of course the towel was going to be damp," he retorts.

As his hands fall back to his side, he continues to puzzle over Irhya's body language. Unfortunately, it doesn't occur to him that she might be as jealous of him as she had claimed Hythlodaeus might have been of her.

Irhya sighs, running a hand over her ears. "You two..."

Honestly, it's really cute seeing them banter like this, but it continues to make her wonder if she has a place getting involved with it. So instead, she tries to steer things back to what they were attempting to accomplish.

"We could take shots out here all night, I'm sure, but I'm sure the ghosts will retreat come morning, so we ought to get there before then, yes?"

Hythlodaeus gives Irhya a small nod to catch her attention, then gestures at Hades with a thumb and rolls his eyes. An unsaid "he started it".

"I agree," he says out loud. "Though, is it not curious that spirits would only appear during the night? Why do you think that is?"

He shrugs, missing the gesture between them as he's still surveying the path ahead.

"In their default state, spirits are nigh impossible to see with the naked eye. If these natives lack in the ability to see aether as we do, it wouldn't be surprising that they are unable to spot them whilst the sun is up. Once night falls, these spirits become far easier to see and so they are attributed to the night."

He WILL go on if either of them let him.

"Yes," she says emphatically with a small amount of annoyance. "And stars don't disappear when the sun is out, even if half the population believes only what they see. Same thing. Let's move on."

But as she continues walking, she realizes she doesn't know what to say anymore. And if she's hesitant to continue natural conversation, what does that mean for her? Was accompanying them just a bad idea in the first place? The doubts start to gather.

"I... How long is this supposed to take? To get there."

"I would imagine the spirits get lonely, then. Imagine not only being denied your passage to the Underworld, but the company of the living, as well. No wonder the locals see them as mostly malevolent!"

It's ok, Irhya, Hyth can chatter more than enough for everyone here. He does hum curiously as he looks around them - to little avail, since, y'know, it's dark.

"I wonder. Who's got the map?"

Sighing, he reaches into the bag he's taken to carrying for his alchemy reagents (amongst other things), withdrawing their map. He halts and unfolds it, taking care not to lose his grip and drop it on the slushy ground.

"We are here," he says, pointing. "Assuming the scale is accurate, it should be another hour or so until we reach the edge of this so-called rotting land."

Oh. Another hour. Irhya glances at the map with a wry look, still mindful that she can't just bail on them if they've little to no means of defending themselves. Pulling her cloak higher up on her neck, she starts walking again.

"I'd like to make good time on it if we can," she comments dryly. "I may be nocturnal, but... you know."

He doesn't know, actually. He's also worried a little about how long it's going to take for Hades to realize things, and whether it won't be too late by that point.

"Are you afraid of ghosts?"

"Not really," she says flatly. "I've dealt with them before, once or twice."

Edda springs to mind, but at least her dead body lashing out at her wasn't of her own volition. That time. She was laid to rest in the end, though, so perhaps that's all she and Avere could've asked for in the end.

"They're not exactly tactile beings, though. How are you going to get a reading off of them?"

Since this is Hythlodaeus, the answer should have been expected.

"Oh, by doing my best, of course!"

He had opened his mouth to respond, but Hythlodaeus cuts in with his usual flippancy and he has to shoot his friend an exasperated look.

"That is what we are seeking to confirm: whether or not his ability touches the soul of a being or is limited to living people," he eventually says.

He's struggling to understand why Irhya looks less than enthused to be here. Taking advantage of a moment when she has turned away, he looks askance at Hythlodaeus.

When Hades looks at him, Hythlodaeus closes his eyes briefly and gives a noiseless sigh. Well, there is an application of his magic he can use here, even though he does not particularly enjoy doing this without Irhya's knowledge. At the same time, it's not exactly like he can take either of them aside to try and talk things out, and bringing it up right away without prior notice, and given Hades's penchant for being utterly clueless in these matters...

I am rather certain Irhya feels like a third wheel. She did see herself as my rival for your affection, and now that you have seemingly "chosen" me over her, well, I would imagine this is not a very pleasant situation for her to be in.

Also, pray do remember I cannot read your thoughts. Only project my own. But I ask you to consider how she must feel. And without launching directly into disbelieving it.

He stares at Hythlodaeus, the only outward sign that something may be happening outside of Irhya's knowledge. Of all the things to be hung up on - jealousy, again?

He sighs and looks away, wondering how to proceed. Irhya had not been afraid to let him know what she thought of him pursuing the salvation of Amaurot. Wouldn't any attempts to bridge that gap sound insincere?

For Zodiark's sake - he hadn't even realised Hythlodaeus had been wooing him for some few hundred years!

Not seeming to notice the glances exchanged by the two men, Irhya says, "Ah... right." She manages to keep her gaze trained forward, walking briskly in an effort to keep ahead of the two of them with her shorter stride. "Hopefully we can track down a relatively harmless one... not all who linger do so because of good intentions. And I'd rather not run afoul of a malevolent spirit. I have to wonder why they only congregate in one place, though..."

Hythlodaeus hums thoughtfully.

"I would suspect that that place is the center of the local Underworld, mayhap acting like a maelstrom within the Lifestream." He twirls a finger around, imitating a whirlpool. "Thus the drifting souls are drawn there, but cannot exit it. There may well be a multitude of other reasons, of course. But if we do run into a malevolent spirit, what would we do? I suppose my familiar might be able to buy us a little time if necessary, but aside from that I fear I've naught to contribute."

His response is noticeably subdued. "I suppose we would have to flee. I can create some walls to contain the spirit to give us time to escape."

It doesn't occur to him that ghosts may function differently here and be able to pass through walls. The soul is a tangible thing to him.

"Failing that, Irhya's sword should make short work of it, if 'tis but a single spirit."

"You assume spirits can be so easily struck down. If they're incorporeal, any physical obstacles are useless, including walls and swords."

Perhaps at home, things would be easier, but here, they've no means of actually interacting with the thing. She shrugs loosely.

"Though hopefully that also serves us the other way around; if they're incorporeal, they have little way of interacting with the world. If we're lucky, the worst they can do is send a chill down our spines or something."

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