isleofavalon | [open] SOMNUS & YOU, catch-all feb

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[open] SOMNUS & YOU, catch-all feb

🧙 WHO: Somnus and YOU
⚔️️ WHAT: Open quests, TDM prompts, etc.
🕒 WHEN: around feb
🗺️ WHERE: errwhere
⚠️ WARNINGS: none

Cupid's Arrow Beta Testing

[ What is the purpose of such quests? An enchantment to cause another to fall is reckless, dangerous, even. But that doesn't mean he won't be watching as the arrows are distributed. Eventually, and with a solemn mien not fit for any feelings of affection (enchanted or otherwise), he decides to take up the quest with explicit intention to not fulfil it. Taking a potentially enchanted arrow from the quest-giver means one less another might use against someone.

Now he stands and walks with an arrow in hand down one of the cobblestone streets, his eyes keen on its sharp, spell-doused tip.

Enter you, at an ill-advised moment or angle-- perhaps a carriage is rushing down the street, too, or a man wheelbarrowing a stack of hay shouts for you to move out of the way and into Somnus' path. Somnus deftly side-steps the encounter, nimbly twirling the shaft of the arrow between his fingers to prevent it from harming you-- only to be pricked by it himself....

When the commotion ends, Somnus stands still. His free hand rises up, slowly, to press his palm to the slight-left of his upper chest. It's a tender motion, self-steadying as if something suddenly weighs upon him, but delicate as if he’s holding something fragile within. He looks at you, ashen and solemn. For once, emotion flickers across his normally stony expression.

This. This is a great, incomprehensible, and terrible pain. ]

Training Grounds:

[ Ever since his arrival, he's been cut off from the birthright-magic of of his Line. As such, he has neither pocket-dimension armory nor Armiger. Unable to house it within the metaphysical space of crystalline, divine magic. and Somnus has still yet to find a proper sheath for his blade. Which means... he might as well exercise his new, kinetic magic with it.

Find him wielding his sword remotely through kinesis, practicing various forms as if if a specter were swinging it only meters from where he stands. Occasionally, he'll attempt to kinetically lift another weapon into his practice. ]

Sync or Swim

A: [ He trusts those insofar who are interested at exploring the potential and boundaries of their magic, and so if you are a like-minded professional and should you have agreed to accompany him, he enters the ritual tent with you. On his part, it appears he's neither flighty nor awkward, but grim and serious as usual. He's fought many battles with men he's known for less than a month before-- and when presented with a common goal (whether that of defeating daemons or this), he knows that success can be possible just with that.

He also has known for some time that one is never strongest when alone.

With the paint applied, they are ready to commence the dance. Somnus holds up his hand to you, his pale, calloused palm facing outward and awaiting yours to join it, prepared for the first touch and the initiating circle. The dim lighting of the tent casts shadows, accenting the severity of his expression, yet the amber glow of the candles seems to simultaneously soften the normally sharp blue of his gaze. His voice, strong and deep, announces, ] Let us begin.

[ (Note that if new CR, assume names have been exchanged!) ]

B: [ Whether success or failure, Somnus can be found after any attempts at the ritual by the prismatic bonfire afterward, looking upon the fire with a complex expression. The flames flicker, dancing in his eyes. Perhaps they even cast a nostalgic light. ]

Save a Beast, Kill a Man

[ He looks upon the quest board app with some amount of interest for the last one. (Thankfully, he's read up on what selkies are.) To anyone who also happens to be randomly standing nearby also reading the latest update on their quests: ] Are such unions lawful in this realm?

[ Not only does it seem to be a marriage between a fae-creature and man, it's obviously one of forced marriage where the requester is openly asking for murder. Is that also not frowned upon? ]

Wildcard

[ Wildcard any of the above prompts here, DM me Jade294#6977 or PP me at drinksteapots! I'm okay with repeating multiple prompts. ]

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[ The steps themselves are not so mesmerizing in of themselves, for they are mostly parts of a simple dance, yet the repetition aids in both concentrating and cleaning one's mind. As the magic stirs around them, he can begin to feel the prickle of the shadows' energy causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.

Rather than being wary, this means that it's working.

Somnus' focus returns to her, his hand upon her waist, and hers upon his in return. Closer like this, he can spot the silhouette of his reflection in her eyes. As they proceed, the magic seems to tether them with, weaving the foundation of synchronicity between them.

"Of one mind, of one movement," the woman had said, and it seems that her words hold true. It becomes easier to recreate the dance with each and every step. Soon, they'll be mirroring each others' movements perfectly, as if both are controlling their own and each other's movements at once. They continue as such, one turn, another, out, then in-- and then, there--

Their shadow separate from them. The synchronic magic is complete.

Oddly, he remains in his spot, his palm lingering, pressed upon her back. His expression, while neutral, appears quietly contemplative as his gaze remains upon her. ]

[It was strange, seeing herself in his eyes, noticing it just as the connection between the two began to strengthen. Caster became aware of even their breathing falling into sync- no, not just that, each movement from the steps themselves right down to any little shift in their posture.

And she felt it, then, when they stopped and their shadows continued to move without them.

Such a strange feeling...without really being aware of it, she closed her fingers on his hand, hoping for that stability before he could pull away. She didn't want to speak, not yet, not sure if that would break the affect of the ritual, but she kept her gaze focused on him as well. It was a little distant, her mind otherwise occupying itself on feeling out the effects of the ritual

If she focused, it almost felt like she could direct her shadow as it continued its dance across the walls of the tent.]

[ With the spell cast reasonably their time within the tent should end, and they should part. He finds it curious, then, that there seems to be a new, foreign, and strange feeling that that insists that he should stand near. Perhaps it's a side effect of the spell being cast. Synchronic magic does involve bonding, and their professionalism aided them, but now that is done with..

For a moment, his fingers twitch upon her back, his eyes remaining upon her with a deep, almost thoughtful shadow to them.

And then his palm slides out from behind her, falling back to his side. All at once, he feels more aware as if the intense focus of the spell has lifted. With that awareness comes peculiar note of her absence from him, as well as the sound of voices outside their tent, talk of wood and bonfires. ]

...Caster. Behold, the shadows dance by thy efforts.

[Oh...she should let go, shouldn't she? A strange coldness came over Caster as she felt his hand twitch on her back, and she tried to will it to stay where it was for just a moment. She didn't want to be alone.

But as Somnus finally did move his hand, Caster slowly slid her hand out of his, taking a moment to dare look around.]

Yes...I feel it. Such an odd feeling.

We should be able to control them, I think.

For what purpose? [ He asks this, glancing at her. It seems that with the spell cast, he doesn't quite want to move too far from her.

This is unnatural, but. It's harmless, he deems, and so he remains. ]

To fetch things, perhaps, or-...well, there's no need for it, now.

[...She watched Somnus, quietly, feeling a sense of reassurance by his presence. Even if the thought of him leaving just at this moment sent an anxious little jolt in her chest.

No...she didn't want him to abandon her here.]

[ There is no need to delve further into shadow-magics at the moment, not when they've accomplished their task.

Soft woodflutes and the pluck of lyres from beyond the exit of the tent dance upon his eardrum. He turns his head towards the heavy strips of cloth that serve as a door to the outside where the music filters in, then back to her.

It is uncharacteristic of him to suggest that they dawdle, and yet, the draining aspect of the ritual has him want for company: ]

Let us rest by the fire.

[Come to think of it...she soon started to notice the sounds as well. Quiet voices, not loud enough to make out the words or the language, but just enough to suggest the comings and goings of a peaceful city quietening down for the evening.

As he glanced back to the door, Caster found her hand reaching out to take hold of his hand or arm, but- no. She quickly stopped herself, holding her hands close to her chest.]

...Yes, it's a little...it's cold.

[She collected her cloak in her arms, before glancing to him, just to make sure he really did intend to join her in heading out.]

[ He joins her.

...But not before sweeping his own cloak off of the ground. Heavy, embroidered, and clasped with golden sigils that either resemble a star or a chrysanthemum upon them, the cloak is everything someone of high rank would wear on a long military campaign-- and it is this that he drapes upon her shoulders.

She says it is cold, after all.

Afterwards he offers his arm, bidding in the same stoic manner, ] Caster.

Oh-

[How long had it been, since she'd been treated with such tenderness? Aside from her Master, it was something that had long since become foreign to her.

Slowly, as if she weren't sure this were real, she pulled the heavy cloak a little closer around herself before going to take his arm.

...

Come to think of it, he did remind her of Souichirou. He had the same calm, unshakable, stoic manner about him.]

[ As soon as she obliges, he steps forward, parting the cloth-door of the tent to allow her passage out. The bite of winter air greets them. Only, it's not as chilly as one might think, for the warm, prismatic fire at the courtyard of the tents invites both them-- and the shades skirting around them-- towards it.

There are others like them, here. Some enter the tents together; others leave, and more are scattered about the bonfire in pairs, remaining close as if it were all an extension of the ritual itself. Or, perhaps, compensation for their shadows lost.

There is a place for them to sit near the flames upon a tarp overlaying dry hay. He guides her there, sitting beside her. ]

...it appears as if we aren't the only ones.

[She took a seat by him - close, but careful not to make any hasty, unwanted contact.

The fire was certainly appreciated, even if the warmth it provided couldn't quite compensate for the coldness left behind by her shadow.

For the time being, she kept her face uncovered. She was wearing his cloak instead of her own, after all, and found herself running her fingers along the ornate clasp in thought.]

[ The flames flicker of myriad pastels, reminiscent of the butterfly’s wings in mid summer. There’s something oddly warm about the fire, mesmerizing, and it encourages him to keep their contact engaged. Wordlessly, his hand beside him moves upon the bench towards her, but stops part way when he notices her hand has raised instead to one of the claps upon the cloak.

Then his gaze raises further from her slender fingers to her face, watching for all but two solemn moments as the firelight and shadows dance upon the delicate features of her face. There, he finds true synchronicity between light and dark.

This feeling is unnatural— another enchantment, then. However, it’s neither particularly unpleasant nor detrimental, but comfortable. It is perhaps because of that odd, unknowing comfort that he speaks again, voicing something he wouldn’t otherwise comment upon. ]

Wherefore... [ He angles his head towards her, his voice soft, as if meaning neither intrusion nor harm. ] do you veil the sky from the world?

[ The sky meaning, her eyes. ]

[Oh...she noticed that gaze, once she finally took her eyes off the light and shadow dancing in the firelight. Somnus had a stern face, but one that now was tempered by the softness of the flickering light, and the enchantment that affected both of them.

That wasn't a question she'd been expecting. The sky...wait, be meant her eyes, didn't he?]

...When the world called me a witch, that is what I became. I cloaked myself in darkness and showed them exactly what evil magics I could call upon. What reason did I have to let them in, after that?

[In a way, it was to intimidate others - in another, it was to shield herself from getting hurt, again.

A pause, before she voiced the thoughts that had been going through her own head.]

A cloak like this must have indicated high status in your world, mustn't it? Who were you...?

[She knew he was unlikely to answer, but the question slipped out before she could stop herself.]

Edited 2021-02-24 21:30 (UTC)

[ Her explanation seems to cause him to pause, but it seems he refrains from voicing his opinion or asking more. The point of his comment hadn't been to pass judgement-- darkness has other meanings upon other Stars, after all-- but to lament that she hides. It is the world's loss that she shrouds herself, their due punishment for shunning her. Along these lines, perhaps it is a privilege to see her visage revealed.

His gaze remains soft by the prismatic campfire, watching her as the flames' glow flickers across her skin. Moments ago, they had shared a dance. Now the light itself dances within her eyes. It's an enchantment in of itself. ] Their color rivals the vault of the heavens.

[ ...And she would be right, he doesn't answer her question. It doesn't matter who he was, before. ]

[She'd certainly been expecting judgement from him for the statement- so when it did not come, that came as something of a surprise. It was certainly unusual for her to let her face show like this, and as he continued to watch, she tucked her hair consciously behind one pointed ear.]

...You flatter me.

[Right now, she couldn't be sure whether the warmth in her face was from the fire, or his words.

At his silence on her question, though, a small smile graced her features.]

No, I suppose I shouldn't pry. That is hardly fair on you.

[ What is flattery when it is truth. Inadvertently, his gaze drifts slightly lower upon her face, lingering upon a smile that seems almost foreign, but wholly deserving upon her expression.

He turns his gaze to the fire, frowning for more troubling reasons than one. A moment passes where only the logs of the bonfire crackle. Now, hardness returns to his expression.

...Despite her words, he knows that it is unfair to her, being closed off, and since she had picked up that his raiment is of high quality, perhaps it's not so detrimental to reveal this: ]

I reigned as king.

[As he finally looked away to focus on the fire, Caster picked up on that harshness- that frown darkening his features. She found herself reaching out, wanting to rest a hand on his cheek before stopping herself, hand curling back to rest near his.

So he was a King...? There was a hint of nostalgia in her expression as she mulled over that. After all, she was called a Princess, once upon a time.]

A King, hm? That would explain your cloak...

[ He feels her move beside him, only catching the trail-end of it as her hand rests besides his instead. Still, he faces forward, unable to bring himself to look at her, lest she smile again.

Everything about this place bleeds with magic, and the fire is no different. Despite the cold around them, and his cloak given to her instead, the colors and light make the atmosphere... pleasant. Bumps from the cold may have appeared upon what parts of his forearm remain exposed, but he makes no move to adjust himself from his spot. ]

It matters not. We must look towards the future.

...to save our worlds.

[Those little bumps on his arm were becoming more obvious. Should she have given his cloak back, by now? Or- with a little shuffle, she moved closer.

There was certainly something odd about the atmosphere of this place, but for the most part, Caster blamed any strange emotions on the ritual they'd just come from.

All she could say for certain, though, was that she really didn't want to be alone right now.]

[ He feels cloth upon his upper arm and shoulder. Realizing that it's her moved next to him, her presence lending her warmth, his head lowers.

What company is this, for him to be welcomed to it. Very few would move closer to him, in his time; perhaps it's the same for her, after others have regarded her as a 'witch'. ]

...You fight for your Star?

[She had to think about that question for a moment, gaze softening a little despite herself as she stared at the flames. It seemed... uncharacteristically soothing, considering she usually used fire to unleash her vengeance.

Was she fighting to save her world, really?

...

No. She wasn't that selfless.]

...For my own happiness.

[ His head tilts towards her, his gaze deep as he looks upon her. ]

Are you close to finding it?

Yes and no...we have a war to win, first.

[Or to prolong, but there was only so long she could do that. And Caster was all too painfully aware that her happiness could be snatched away at any moment.

...but perhaps it already had been? And that thought sent a shiver through her, a hint of grief creeping into her expression.]

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