EVENT #15: THE NETHER - IC EVENT LOG

[abraxasmods]

Event #15 - The Nether

OOC event plotting | settings info

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After a Conclave vote earlier this month, you're prepared to accept the formal request from the Nether for your assistance. By now, you'll know who the delegates are and that the dragons have suffered an illness from the rifts that opened this summer, due to the unfortunate actions of one of your fellow Summoned. Whether or not you agree with your Conclave's majority rule, the decision has been made.

The expedition will begin on October 16 and last 10 days. If you need to return home sooner, you can activate your portal stone at any point during the trip, but there's no going back once you do.

Though mysterious, the Draconae - or daemons, as others call them - are not elusive like the Fey. Anyone who's been to Nocwich will have seen a handful of them amongst the population, and some reside in the Free Cities or the outskirts of Thorne. The only nation they aren't found in is Solvunn.

Into the Heart

Your arrival to the Nether is a frosty one. The northern island is barren, save for a thick layer of snow, a few birds, and some hardy insects. Massive skeletal remains can be seen as you walk over the ice. Every few minutes, the ground trembles. The Draconae warriors greet you at the base of the volcano, including Orion, The Warden herself. Though they appear intimidating, they're grateful you're here and will clap you heartily on the back.

Entering the Obsidian Heart requires nerves of steel, but appearances aside, the narrow walkway is sturdy. As long as you're brave, you'll make it down without a problem. The less sure-footed are encouraged to ask for a hand. If they do, they'll be assigned a Draconum warrior who will cheerfully carry them down the winding path. You can also help each other, of course! Any Summoned who are capable can carry their friends, too.

As you venture down, the oppressive heat intensifies...until suddenly it stops. The moment you reach the fiery gates, the smell of brimstone fades from the air and the temperature eases into that of a pleasant summer's day. If asked, the Draconae will tell you this is how it is - a blessing from the two remaining dragons. Without them, the air would suffocate all life within.

Although the main purpose is to aid the dragons, the Draconae will invite characters to take breaks, participate in recreational activities, and explore the Nether. They want their guests to be comfortable, especially as the Summoned have arrived to help.

Around the City

At the center of the volcano lies the Obsidian Heart, where the Draconae reside. Made of stacking homes and stone bridges that spiral downward, it's a wonder how anyone finds their way. There are no maps, signage, or any form of direction. Their ability to navigate appears inherent. The most dangerous beasts lurk beneath the lava, so unless you intend to go swimming, you're unlikely to run into anything aggressive.

Doors and furniture are heavy and are made of iron, bronze, or steel. You might need to push or pull furnishings and doors with both hands and extra effort. Luckily, citizens are happy to help - as long as you ask. If you don't, they won't interfere out of respect for your autonomy. In fact, if they see you huffing and puffing, they might stop to watch and will sincerely cheer for you should you accomplish your objective by yourself.

Watch your sticky fingers. While petty theft is a minor offence in other places, the Draconae are highly protective of their belongings and treasures. Hands and heads have been lost over stolen trinkets.

The Hieran Wing

As a guest, you'll be invited to stay at the Hieran Wing. Named after Hierus, the oldest living dragon, the Hieran Wing is located in the eastern section of the Citadel. The rest of the Citadel is under heavy guard and inaccessible.

◎ The rooms are carved into the stone itself. Bedding is comfortable, if simple, with room to store your belongings. A curved stairwell grants you privacy even though many rooms have curtains rather than doors. The few rooms that have doors contain no locks. Your safety is assured, but if you're nervous, you can ask for a guard to watch you at night.

◎ The dining area consists of open-fire grills, pots, and raw ingredients - including spices and fiery hot peppers. As great believers in self-sufficiency, the Draconae will leave you to make meals to your taste and liking. You can hunt and fish your meat, as well. There are numerous lava pools where one can net jumbo shrimp, crabs, and flaming fish. For larger game, you can go after the Erymaes Boar or Petran Bison. Feel free to share your catch with your friends or offer to cook for the culinarily challenged.

◎ The library contains only fiction. You'll recognize several titles from your faction or Nocwich, suggesting they've brought back their favorite stories to read. Other titles are new, written by the Draconae. Novels and poetry span all genres, but the most common ones seem to be adventure, horror, and erotic romance - some of which contain surprisingly detailed illustrations.

Magma Pools

Outside the Hieran Wing, unusual cerulean magma pools are provided for bathing. Despite how they look, temperatures are equivalent to that of a steaming hot spring. The magma bubbles naturally from within the volcano and provides soothing effects. No soap or cleaning agents are required. These magma pools contain tiny frogs that leap and jump around. The Draconae consider them a tasty live snack. Don't be surprised if you see a local munching on them.

The Foundry

The Foundry has expanded over the past two centuries. A marketplace now circles the ancient forge. Observing the tradespeople inside and their secrets are off-limits. However, you can browse a selection of tools, clothes, accessories, and potions. Healing potions are common due to the Draconae's lack of healing magic.

You'll have the chance to request custom-made jewelry and purchase glass ornaments that are blown for you on the spot. Merchants won't sell the large weapons on display, but daggers and other small weapons are available. They'll also modify any pieces you own by adding jewels, altering the fit, or repairing nicks and faults...for a price. The Draconae deal in Abraxan currency if you have any, but they'll accept a vial or two of blood or saliva as payment.

Negotiations & Meetings (Rank 5+)

The first order of business is to present your Conclave's terms to the Inner Sanctum, the Draconae's governing body. If you've been voted as a delegate, you'll be greeted by the NPC meeting you (and your partner, if you have one). If you haven't been selected, you can still speak to some of the NPCs available.

A Place at the Table

Negotiations will take place in The Solar on the second day, a hall lit with a fiery orb of light. This is where the Inner Sanctum conducts all of its business. Tightly guarded, you're the first outsiders allowed inside in centuries. Here, you'll have the chance to present your terms and convince the Draconae to accept. You'll also have the first day of your arrival to gather a few details about the NPC you'll be meeting.

Only one meeting is required. The Nether will give you their final answer the following day.

Be sure to reply with the terms before starting the thread. Mods will approve or ask for revisions, so try to submit your points by OCTOBER 17.

Once approved, please TAG IN with your character under the correct faction heading.

Meeting the Inner Sanctum

Members of the Inner Sanctum who are not involved in diplomatic affairs are Aster, The Guardian and Anneth, The Flame. Additional descriptions about the two NPCs and where they can be found will be in their character comments below.

Characters who are Rank 5+ (negative or positive) and who are not acting as delegates can speak with one of the two NPCs above.

To do so, TAG IN with your character under the NPC you want to meet.

Runaway at Pyritean's Rack

Abraxan outsiders will whisper that Pyritean's Rack is a nefarious torture device created by the Draconae for their victims. This is true if the victim in question is delicious meat. The Rack, in other words, is a giant cooking area filled with grilling racks and pits. Shelves of ingredients and spices line the perimeter. Its most striking feature is the primary heat source, which uses magma rather than fire. Ingredients and meat unique to the Nether result in dishes and flavors not found elsewhere. Hot peppers are a popular feature.

The Draconae cook and share their food each night at the Rack. The station is always occupied. Locals take turns hunting and fishing, preparing ingredients, and cooking. Consequently, food is provided without cost. You only need to lend a hand.

Not everything goes smoothly, though. An escaped hatchling has infiltrated the Rack, and Khloris, the baby dragon, is eager to snatch and steal food throughout the week.

Earning the Torch

Impromptu competitions are frequent. They usually begin when one cook sees another outdoing them and makes a challenge. You can either issue a challenge or receive a challenge. Challenges can be between you and the natives, or you can face off with another Summoned. Judging is done by the crowd, which can be chaotic.

Not to worry! There's no downside to losing except your pride. Though the competition can grow fierce and heated in the moment - including vulgar insults and much jeering - once all is said and done, there are no grudges when the food hits the table. Sore losers are looked down on as being thin-skinned.

Winners will receive a jar of spice mix or marinating sauce from one of the many talented cooks. We won't be modding this aspect, so just be realistic with your character's cooking skills. Be sure to work things out with your thread partner if the competition involves another player character!

Escaped Hatchling

One young dragon has escaped its sanctuary at Dragon's Glass. Curious, it's drawn to the smell of food at Pyritean's Rack. As a result, it's disrupting competitions, breaking equipment, and stealing ingredients or even chunks of meat off people's plates. Desperate to get the dragon back before it causes more trouble - or worse, injures itself - the Draconae have asked you to catch the hatchling.

Of course, you'll need to contend with the dragon's unique abilities.

Khloris, the runaway in question, leaves behind small patches of grass. Its pollen dust coats nearly everything it goes near. When eaten or touched, the pollen causes flowers to sprout in your hair for a day or two. It can't fly far or very high, but it's prone to swooping down to snatch meat off the grill. The Flame informs you the dragon can be lured with gold trinkets or bright colors like red and yellow.

To see if your character can catch the dragon, submit for a roll HERE. Submissions will close October 18 at 11:59 ET. Results will be posted on October 19 so players can account for their success or failure.

Ailing Dragons

The two ailing dragons are Hierus, the Obsidian Drake, and Kruos, the Glass Serpent. Mated to each other, they're the only remaining adult dragons in the Nether and have been for decades. When you visit them at Dragon's Glass, their condition is worrisome. The dragons' scales have lost their luster and are grown over with painful white patches. They appear lethargic.

Those researching can offer the dragons healing potions or ointment to aid their symptoms while a cure is worked on. If you're not much of a healer or a scientist, you can feed them or simply spend time with them. The dragons are intelligent and appear capable of understanding you, though they can't communicate directly.

Characters have 3 avenues of participation, depending on their interests and strengths: gathering ingredients, researching the cure, and looking after the baby dragons and eggs. They'll have time to do all three throughout the 10-day excursion.

Finding a Cure

At first, you aren't sure where or how to start. The Draconae suggest the Ashlands may be a place to explore. It's dangerous, they warn, but they have a potion that'll help keep you safe. Due to the hazards, you're told not to go alone. As you travel through the deadened land, you notice an odd phenomenon: where you walk, the air around you clears, and the ground beneath your feet springs to life. You realize you don't need the potion to protect you.

The changes are temporary, fading behind you as you walk. Curiously, the effect you exhibit is similar to what the Draconae claim their dragons are capable of - though to a much smaller degree. Still, you have to wonder if you and the dragons share a similar magical connection to the Singularity. You can't help but notice that those of you who regularly interact with the Horizon and have been doing so for a while seem to affect your environment more. Your aura may be a little larger and the vicinity restored around you lasts a bit longer rather than melting away immediately - maybe even up to a minute or two.

Restoration and Gathering

Your ability to restore the land has unlocked a vital element. Ingredients once thought lost can now be gathered by the Summoned such as yourself, and they may hold the key to curing the dragons. Bring back these ingredients to your peers waiting at Dragon's Glass. The more you gather, the more they'll be able to research and experiment, so don't be shy about making multiple trips.

There are three sections for you to explore. Each one has its dangers and a specific ingredient to collect.

Due to its circumstances, Aetherie is only available on Day 9 of the event, shortly before the cure is finalized. The Draconae will seal the area once more when they realize what's happening. Cinder's Core and Featherhive are open for the full duration of the event.

◎ Cinder's Core

Filled with petrified trees and fossilized bones, the area that restores around you demonstrates its previous life as a flourishing rainforest: the humidity grows, the grass turns lush, and tropical flowers sprout under your fingertips. Although its sulfuric air won't affect you, you'll need to brave dangerous heights to reach the tops of trees and dried-up waterfall cliffs to retrieve the kydros fruit. The fruit smells like citrus and is surprisingly light despite its size.

Vines brought back to life can help you climb, forming ropes for you to climb and bridges that weave beneath your feet. They'll wither once more behind you, so you'll want to move quickly to avoid losing your footing. Height isn't the only danger - the ground below is littered with sharp skeletal protrusions and jagged trees. Beware of dangerous thorn bushes that will come to life in your presence and try to crush you in their spiny embrace as you ascend.

◎ Featherhive

The air here is too toxic for the Draconae to breathe in for long. Luckily you're unaffected. Scattered across the ground are the remaining husks of birds' nests. A dragon's skeleton curls under a rocky overhang. Use your restorative ability to journey deep into Featherhive's heart. Pushing aside the thick overgrowth reveals a small clearing covered in bright crystals for you to harvest.

Although Featherhive poses no physical danger, the land is haunted by shadow birds, ethereal spirits connected to the dragons - and you. As you pass through, they flutter around you and parrot familiar lines to each other. Their movements are jerky and strange. Quickly, you realize the birds are mimicking your memories. They might replicate an entire scene or echo a phrase or two that's plagued you all your life. Or, if you're lucky, they're merely repeating your grocery list. Shooing them will cause them to dissipate into smoke, but they'll soon return.

◎ Aetherie

The loss of a dragon released a noxious gas through this village without warning. Escaping villagers were forced to leave behind those they could not save and seal the doors. The Oblivion is a painful moment in history for many, and none have set foot near the area since. Near the end of your stay, the Draconae request you use your ability to venture where they can't and gather Anoix pods, powerful healing seeds from a plant that only grew in Aetherie. They believe the abandoned huts will contain pouches of the pods on shelves and cabinets.

Entering the village, you expect a tragic scene of corpses. Instead, you find something far worse. The dead have mutated into grotesque arachnids, limbs fused to bulbous abdomens. They show no signs of recognition or awareness and attack you on sight. Hidden in the depths of the purple haze, rat-sized spiders scurry forth. Their venom causes painful sores that will fester and spread if left untreated. Multiple bites may result in temporary blindness or paralysis of a limb. Luckily, this will clear up within 24 hours to a few days, depending on the severity.

Grab the pods if you can or flee if you're overwhelmed. When word reaches The Warden, she'll rapidly send her people to reseal the abandoned village and come to aid any who need it. If you're injured, The Flame and her apprentices will tend to you at Dragon's Glass.

Research and Magic

Dragon's Glass is a glass-domed temple said to be forged from the fires of Kruos. It's located in the Spiral, which is outside the Obsidian Heart. Here, the two remaining dragons reside while ill, along with their clutch of eggs and a few precious hatchlings.

Anneth, The Flame, will invite you into the temple's alchemy labs, where you can apply your skills and knowledge to create the healing elixir that cures the dragons. Doing so requires you to experiment with key ingredients found in the Ashlands. You'll have access to basic alchemy books and apprentices at the temple. Use any additional tools, supplies, and knowledge you possess, and take advantage of the resources donated by the factions.

How you approach your research is up to you, but each ingredient comes with a set of risks - so be careful while you work!

◎ The kydros fruit contains seeds that will explode when heated, causing a chain reaction like popped popcorn. The explosions aren't large, but they might scorch your supplies. Crushing them in the open air results in a similar chemical reaction. However, soaking them in water makes them soften into mush, allowing you to turn the seeds into a paste that could be useful. The fruit is similar to grapefruit and is excellent for a sore throat.

◎ The crystals come in three colors: red, blue, and black. Extended contact will dye your skin that color. The stains are extraordinarily stubborn, so your clothes may not recover. These crystals resonate with a strange hum that suggests they respond well to magic spells. Combining them with a liquid will give off a foul-smelling smoke, so you may need to find ways to neutralize the stench before combining it into an elixir.

◎ The Anoix pods must be used sparingly, as no more can be gathered from Aetherie. They possess strong healing properties, but each pod is very delicate and must be split open with care so as not to damage the soft seeds inside. In addition to researching the cure, you can also attempt to help the Dracaone grow new Anoix plants using the preserved seeds.

The final cure will use all 3 key ingredients. Don't worry too much about continuity! As long as your character participated, you can assume they made a valuable contribution.

However, to assist with coordination, we've provided a RESEARCH DISCOVERY section where you can present any findings your character would share with others in-game.

Hatchlings and Eggs

While curing the adult dragons is a priority, the hatchlings and eggs aren't to be neglected. Baby dragons are active troublemakers, and without their parents to keep them in line, they've become especially unruly. The apprentices at the temple can only do so much. The Keeper has even made rare appearances in Dragon's Glass to lend his assistance.

Meanwhile, the eggs are beginning to show signs of affliction. The shells are beginning to weaken, and the feathery growths appearing on them will suffocate the hatchling inside if left untreated.

Babysitting the Dragons

If you have a spare moment, you can look after the baby dragons. Keep them out of trouble by reading their favorite stories, singing songs, and playing with them. They'll also need to be fed, watered, and their bedding changed or fluffed. The hatchlings are mischievous but friendly. They're eager to bond with the Summoned for reasons unexplained, as if they feel something resonating within you.

Many are attracted to shiny objects and bright colors and will attempt to steal them. Conversely, they might gift you a trinket that they've pilfered from someone else. The local Draconae would appreciate it if you returned any missing tools or jewels.

Hatchlings you'll encounter in Dragon's Glass are:

◎ Okenus spouts water instead of flame. Bearing fins instead of wings, this sea dragon is vital to bringing lakes and rivers back to the Nether. Currently, it can only make tiny puddles and rainclouds. Watch that your belongings don't get wet. Standing near the dragon might cause a small storm cloud to spawn over you and rain down on your head. A simple spell will make the cloud disappear, but if you don't have any magic, you might have to bring an umbrella.

◎ Epeius can form miniature gusts of wind beneath its wings, but it doesn't have firm control and frequently spawns them when excited. These small dust devils and whirlwinds will follow you around. Though they aren't powerful, they can be a nuisance, knocking over cups, blowing away hats, and sending papers flying. The other hatchlings will find your misfortune a source of amusement.

◎ Ledas can help salt deposits form in the shape of large salt crystals. Salt is important to the Draconae, which the hatchling is aware of and thus takes great pride in its abilities. The crystals can be eaten as is or crushed into granules. Ledas will strive to impress you with the largest crystals that it can make...which occasionally results in the structure collapsing, littering the ground with salt. You might find yourself sweeping often around this dragon, but at least you'll never be short on seasoning.

◎ Anthusa is a very special hatchling that creates bioluminescent algae. The algae grow on its scales, forming a symbiotic relationship. Unfortunately, without a proper habitat for this algae in the Nether, its glow has dimmed in recent years and the hatchling has become languid and sickly despite its youth. Nonetheless, Anthusa is friendly and curious even if it struggles to keep up with its siblings. You can help Anthusa play by lifting it to heights it can't reach, and carrying it back when the dragon is too tired to walk.

Weakened Eggs

As noted, the eggs demonstrate signs of suffering, too. Three eggs are waiting to be hatched. Whether all of the eggs survive is dependent on the decision that each faction Conclave made regarding resources found, as well as the help provided by you and your fellow Summoned.

The eggs can't be cured until the dragons are cured, but you can help slow the growths by gently scraping them off and wiping the eggs regularly with a clean cloth. They must also be kept heated, so check the magma frequently and refill any magma basins. The growths can be donated to those researching for additional study if you wish.

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Comments

[ancunin]

[ Distracted as he is by the offer, he doesn't read anything into the softness of her voice in that single word. The only part that seems to puzzle him for a split second is when she requests he saves her parasite - ugh, why? but he brushes it off as said in jest. ]

That'll do. [ The only thing better (or worse) would be to utter Cazador's name. It's probably for the best she didn't suggest that.

She offers her hand to him, and for a moment he thinks of the last and only time he fed on someone who was willing. With Tav he had taken the lead, suggesting a more comfortable position, straddling over her body. Now, it's Haelva leading him in, allowing him close - offering up her neck like this is something they've practiced before.

His hand slips around the small of her back, pulling her closer. What was an itch in his stomach builds into painful, gnawing demand. He fights it back as best he can for a moment longer, his gaze raking over the old bite scars until his vision blurs at the edges - his focus locked on her pulse beating just beneath the skin, inviting.

He might've tried to sink his fangs into previous marks. Would he find they fit just so, like some obscene fairy tale?

Instead he marks her new. Fangs pierce flesh, and the first trickle of her blood immediately overwhelms his senses entirely. He swallows greedily. ]

[durge]

( The bite is sharp, painful, just like that first night all that time ago. Lifetimes, it feels like, and certainly planes away. It feels like ice in her neck; a counterpoint to the surprising gentleness of the hand on the small of her back. There's no point in hiding the shiver that runs through her at the pain, the small gasp of discomfort. She'd been asleep for most of his drinking, and true to his word she hadn't felt a thing beyond wooziness in the morning.

And Shadowheart had always been ready with a healing touch, even if she hadn't been exactly pleased by the events of the evening. That Haelva wouldn't have that here hadn't occurred to her before, but now she makes a note to find a healer. Or at least some food to lessen the side effects.

How much has he drunk now? Enough? There is a haze over the redness of her closed eye, starting at the edges and rolling in like fog, the ice cold pricks of his teeth now gone, lost in the creeping coldness that radiates out from the fresh bite.

[ CON SAVE: 6. ]

She should-- she should say something. )

Astarion. ( Haelva manages, weakly, the sense of déjà vu overcoming her in a nauseous wave along with a pleasant nothingness. Her hand rests on his chest, over his heart -- knowing full well that she might need to push him back to stop, but she can't... the numbness beckons. To be free of the burden of her existence, just once--

[ CON SAVE: NAT 20 ]

Haelva gathers herself again, her voice stronger this time. She cannot, she will not, die here. Not without answers, without knowing who and what she is. So this time she pushes with her hand, flat against his chest. ) Absolute.

[ancunin]

[ He never asked Tav what his bite felt like - it was very one and done. If she or Haelva had asked him to be gentle, he would've promised to, and in the end that would be a lie. Of his own transformation he remembers pain and little else.

He feels every shiver and gasp. Her skin is warm against his lips, her blood hot on his tongue, the very essence of her life taken and consumed and flowing again through his veins. It's intoxicating, far beyond any drink or drug he might've consumed in his mortal life, what wisps of those times he can even still recall.

The middle of battle isn't the best time to catalogue, but each victim and donor has tasted slightly different. Not just by species or even cleanliness. There's a uniqueness to every one that if asked, he doesn't think he could accurately describe in words. The best he could come up with were references to wine, fine vintages versus plonk.

She tastes sweet, like terror - like the dancing knife's edge.

He's not much of a poet, truthfully.

Faintly - very faintly, he registers the touch of a hand against his chest. It doesn't feel like a push, and so it's easy enough to ignore at first. He doesn't hear her say his name. He doesn't want to stop. He will, of course, he will - but the problem is: he is not in a place to think or care that she might not have the strength to soon...

That next shove, though, that manages to pierce through the haze. Absolute. He makes a small noise against her skin, then pulls back. There's a trickle of her blood running down one side of his mouth, a flush to his skin that wasn't there before. He meets her gaze with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. ]

... there you are, beautiful.

[ His hand is still lightly pressed at the small of her back - he might've pulled it away except that she could be woozy, and the least he can do is try to keep her from cracking her head on the stone floor. ]

[durge]

( The sound he makes vibrates against her skin, causing her to shiver once more -- and this time not from pain. But as soon as he withdraws warmth floods back into her, sending the cold back into the recesses of her mind as she looks back up at him.

She'd forgotten the stark difference between Astarion surviving on rats and whatever else he can sink his teeth into and an Astarion happily fed and thriving on the blood of thinking beings. He looks better, the smugness more fitting on his face now that he's lost the deathly pallor. Haelva likes him better like this; confident, happy. It's enough to make the way she's clearly unsteady on her feet worth it -- grateful for the hand against her back and the hand on his chest to keep her upright. )

Careful, I might think you're talking about yourself. ( She says, her own lips curling up into her own grin. He is, though. Beautiful. Haelva understands why so many people would eagerly follow him home with the promise of a night spent together. That too-perfect charm and practiced lines are tempting to believe, she knows, especially when you have nothing to seemingly lose by indulging him.

There is the temptation to tease, and Haelva indulges it as she wavers back and forth on her feet. ) The way your eyes wrinkle when you laugh -- you don't look a day over one hundred.

[ancunin]

[ His eyes roll nearly to the back of his head, and he laughs, nothing like the nervous chuckles that escaped his lips earlier.

He can hardly be annoyed right now. Not with her blood coursing through his veins. It'll take far more than a bad joke about age and wrinkles to dampen his mood. If they were elsewhere, say at camp, he'd take his leave right about now. Take to the dark to hunt something large and mean. He's sated for the moment, riding a high he's been missing for two weeks - even so, a meal from a willing donor isn't ever completely filling, not unless they're giving you everything.

This hunger isn't romantic like the blood merchant's fantasies. It's a curse.

But as he feels her sway like that his expression softens slightly. The hand on her back slips to her waist, his other hand on her shoulder, and with both he starts to guide her toward one of the alcove beds. ]

Come along. Before you topple over and bruise that pretty little head of yours.

[ She can lie down, and he can find something to clean her up with. ]

[durge]

( Not for the first time, Haelva finds herself grateful that she's not alone here, that it's Astarion of all people who is here with her. He might not know her, or remember her, but he does understand on some level.

It lets her feel as if being vulnerable around him is not truly the inherently dangerous thing it is. And anyway, she's exceptionally good at murder, should he try anything. )

Mm, thank you. No use making it more damaged than it already is. ( She leans against him as they walk, slowly getting more steady as her body adjusts to the lack of blood. Confident enough she doesn't need him to tuck her into bed, Haelva slides into one of the carved alcoves, resting on the provided bedding with a soft sound of surprise. ) Gods, I can't remember the last time I slept in a bed; not including the cult I must have found myself in upon arrival. It's surprisingly comfortable for something made out of stone.

[ancunin]

[ Fortunately - for both of them, she's relatively safe in his hands.

He releases her once she starts settling on the bed on her own, and he can't help but notice the void against his side where the warmth of her body had been pressed. ]

Is it? Good to know for later. Ten days to enjoy it, after all... [ He sounds a little distracted as he rummages around for a clean, spare cloth out from a little woven basket near the bed. ]

Here - [ He holds it up close to her face. ] So you don't stain the bedding.

[ Says the man who's side of the camp is generally both stained with blood and unkempt. ]

[durge]

( She knows damn well what the state of his camp looks like, and Haelva simply raises an eyebrow but accepts the cloth without complaint, pressing it against her neck. )

I don't remember this part of our nightly ritual, but I suppose there was no need to wake me. ( Curiosity wins out of anything else, however -- it's the wizard in her, Haelva supposes, as she watches Astarion move. ) What does it feel like? Drinking the blood of thinking creatures over animals? There's taste, I imagine, and better for you--

( It's clear by the way she looks at him, shifting onto her side and propping her head up that it is genuine curiosity and a desire to understand over anything else. Though she catches herself, and admits: ) If you'd rather not dwell on it, you don't need to indulge me.

( Because it is an indulgence. And not one borne of the urge, in spite of the question at hand. The urge wants it spilt, not sustaining life. )

[ancunin]

[ Ah - that surprises him. Feeding on her while she was in her trance and managing not to wake her up? Hm.

At her question he gives her a strange look, as though he's trying to decipher her motivations for asking such a thing - he cannot help but be reminded of her uncontrollable urge. Or it's not connected at all and she just has a naturally morbid sense of curiosity. As quickly as he's come to accept her presence, there's still so much he doesn't know about Haelva.

After a moment he settles onto the ground, near enough to the foot of her bed so that he doesn't have to turn far to look at her - and so that he can see the curtained doorway. He pulls one knee up. ]

That all depends on who I am tasting. [ he says after a pause, glancing at her once before fixing his eyes on the curtain again as he continues to muse idly: ] The quality of their life. Sick and frail, or strong and beautiful. The latter will always taste better, of course. Richer, fuller. Sustain me longer. The hunger itself never truly leaves but for a brief moment of respite when I have drunk my fill. I could say it makes me feel alive, thought truthfully it's much more than that. I feel... more. Of everything.

[durge]

( Morbid sense of curiosity it is. She'd once asked Gale what would have happened if he'd have, well. Lost his hand while stuck in the portal, and he'd been desperate to know if the question was theoretical or not. Sometimes it's best not to wonder about the path less traveled, or the hand not chopped, as it were.

Haelva shifts, her eyes falling closed -- it's easy to find comfort here, in conversation with a man she considers a friend and the natural warmth of the housing, coupled with the lightheadedness. )

It must be terrible. ( She falls silent for a moment before continuing on, once she's put her thoughts together. ) To feel everything so keenly, and then to have it ebb away from you again and again. ( Haelva raises a hand, as if she's about to grasp something before she lets it fall; something ever out of reach, always out of her own touch. He has indulged her, and she finds herself willing to offer what she can in return. ) When I murder, I feel... satisfaction. ( She drags the word out through her teeth, lengthening the vowels as if by speaking it she can somehow make it not true. ) Pride in a job well done. And I do it so well, so perfectly. Not a drop goes to waste under my blade, by my hands.

( And there is something there, the pride that seeps through her voice, the rolling anger at someone just out of reach. She knows this hatred in her heart has a target. But who? And why?

They remain, as ever, ebbing away from her. )

[ancunin]

[ Every climax has an inevitable fall. In that respect it's the least terrible part of what he's endured each time he feeds. What is terrible is the hunger itself, the haunting memory of that year in the dark. Being shackled by the fear of just how much worse it could be.

He needs a better solution than the rats, though. Once he's better acclimated to the Free Cities, when he can select targets and ways to dispose of them that won't make it immediately apparent how they met their end. Vampires are too well recognized, and he already stands out.

The conflict in her voice is clear as day as she describes her own needs and desires. It's enough to tug at what little strands of empathy are left within him. ]

Look, these people - [ his waves his hand: the Draconae, the Summoned, whomever ] - want to drag us into their own problems, wasting our time. I say we need to focus on our own: your missing memories, the worms - [ a beat, and then he spits out in defiance of the word: ] my master. Hells, with my luck he'll be in the next batch that turns up.

[ It's a possibility, isn't it? The pleasant warmth that has filled him with her blood begins to turn cold at the thought. ]

[durge]

( It would be so easy to not care. To simply let them deal with it on their own; it isn't a new perspective from Astarion. He has always wanted to deal with their own problems over that of strangers. She's never thought him less for it, though they've never quite seen eye to eye on the matter -- anything to keep her further away from the Urge, to beat it and prove to it that she is more that the Dark Urge within her.

It is tempting. But she can't.

And neither should he.

Haelva twists, turning onto her side to give him a better look before shaking her head. )

They need our help, Astarion, we can't just leave them to their fate. ( That would be cruel indeed, even as there is a part of her that sings for it, to let an entire race fall to death by a choice she made. Haelva ignores it. ) Besides, there might be something here that can help us understand this place. Or leave them with a debt they owe us for use in the future. ( She isn't ruling out anything.

As for Cazador, however--

Her fingers itch, a vindicitive venom sliding into her tone. That is a part of her, the her before she lost her memories, that Haelva does not care so much about suppressing. )

No one will ever touch you again if you don't wish it, Astarion. Not him, not anyone. Whatever power we find ourselves having here, I will use every ounce of it to keep my word.

( It is as she said that day they met: she would do a great many terrible things to keep him safe. To make sure that he is better than he ever was, than what he was made to be. Astarion deserves the chance to live a better life.

Haelva is not certain she does, but she would gladly damn herself if it meant keeping him safe from Cazador. )

[ancunin]

[ With a spike of irritation he very nearly rolls his eyes at her. For a creature of wanton murder, she's exceptionally kind. Of course they can leave them to their fate - let the rest of the do-gooders and heroes risk their lives. Didn't they only just leave the Shadow-cursed Land? He hardly wants a repeat of that experience. Sure, the Draconae say it's safe enough out there, but they have their reasons to bend the truth when their survival is at risk, and so many are just throwing themselves at them to be used as cannon fodder...

And a debt, while potentially useful, seems of little value right now when these people are already struggling just to continue their existence.

But fine, he won't argue. She's just given him her life's blood and he's not so ungrateful as to start an argument right after, while she's still looking pale. He's already decided he needs her on his side.

Which brings him to the next thing she says with such intensity it almost has him taken aback. His expression turns muddled and difficult to read: slight surprise bleeds into annoyance, then anger, then he closes his eyes and wrinkles his nose, his jaw working as if in discomfort. ]

Well, perhaps it wouldn't be the worst outcome for the bastard to end up here - far from his slaves and spawn and sycophants... [ No stronghold to hide in. They could drag him into the light and watch him scream, watch him burn. But with Cazador's ashes would go the chance to Ascend. He's not sure he's ready to give that up, even now, so far from their own realm...

He doesn't acknowledge her promise to keep him from harm. Perhaps he can trust she means what she says (like Tav, for repeatedly proving to be an unnaturally good person, for not demanding his body like he had been so ready to provide in return), but it doesn't give him comfort like she must mean for it to - there's no safety under the protection of another. He'll only be free when he has to power to ensure his freedom himself.

A pause, and he shifts his body so that he can rest an elbow on the mattress, propping his head up as he watches her. ]

There's one more small thing you could do for me right now, darling. If you're not too tired.

[durge]

( That he forgoes an argument is a relief to her -- Haelva is no stranger to gently trying to urge Astarion into caring about others, or at least telling him that while he may not be able to find it in himself to extend the same sort of sympathy and help he was denied to others, it would not stop her from attempting to right the wrongs of the world. Rehashing that with a woozy head and an Astarion who is not as familiar with her as her own is not high on her list of things she wishes to do. )

You're not alone here, Astarion. Should he end up here, there are plenty who would answer a call for help. If you so choose.

( Haelva could not say for certain if he would, as independent as he is, as prideful as he is -- though she can certainly related to that part of him -- but she's simply leaving it as an option.

At the mention of a 'small' matter, however, her brow raises in interest. )

Oh? Do tell, and I'll see if I can muster up the strength.

[ancunin]

[ Oh, he doesn't doubt that many here would happily slay a vampire lord without needing all that much convincing. To that he only gives a dismissive half nod.

Astarion lounges cat-like and relaxed, except for his expression. There's something wistful in his gaze, a little vulnerable when he explains his ask: ]

When we shared visions earlier, I believe that I caught a faint glimpse of myself. I wondered if you might allow me to see through your eyes again.

[ Open her mind and let him in, so that he can see himself as he is right now. ]

[durge]

( Ah. Something softens further in Haelva's face, and she nods. How cruel would one have to be to deny him that? He hasn't seen his own face until now; given the chance, why not let him in? A simple thing, and there is nothing he might see inside her mind that she would wish to keep from him -- she is as much of an open book as her mind is full of holes. )

Of course. I would be honored.

( To let him have that moment of knowing. She takes a deep, steady breath, her eyes trained on his face -- her eyes tracking every inch of it that she can. From the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes when he laughs to the curls of his hair around his ears; the deep red of his eyes and the sharp gleam of his teeth. To the warm glow that comes with having freshly fed, the way it softens the circles under his eyes and almost brings a flush to his pale cheeks. Astarion's face is all sharp lines and points, almost cat-like, but it is his, and she has grown fond of his company, his biting sense of humor. That too, she thinks, he will be able to feel.

So she opens up her mind and lets him in; a bloody hand stretched out to usher him to what he wishes to see. )

[ancunin]

[ A mirror hasn't been able to show him his own face for two centuries. He's been told a thousand times that he's beautiful, seen a hundred different expressions of desire in his victims eyes.

So it's strange to finally look at himself after so long: every detail and imperfection through the filter of Haelva's mind, but as close as he'll ever get to truly seeing his own reflection in this life.

He can see and appreciate his own beauty, that much is easily true. But how anyone could be so blinded not to see the monster, those blood red eyes and sharpened teeth - the same features he's seen on those fellow damned souls he now calls siblings, he's not sure. Blame it on the night, the drink, the haze of lust.

His emotions bleed through their parasitic connection unbidden, flickers of sorrow and loss make a strange cocktail when combined with grim satisfaction. With a sharp exhale he breaks the connection, a hand at his temple as is normal when their parasites are most active. This time, though, his fingers twist in those curls around his ear, his other hand raising to lightly trace across his nose and cheekbones. After a second of this he seems to remember that he's not alone, and he lowers both hands to his lap, watching her with uncertainty. ]

Thank you. [ is all he says. ]

[durge]

( She rolls back at the sharpness of the break, the headache that accompanies it beating against the walls of her head for a few seconds before it recedes. Haelva is careful to keep her expression neutral as she looks at him, watches, before settling on warm regard.

It is hard to keep it at bay, Haelva thinks, in moments like this. That she is fond of him, or the Astarion she knew -- who is nearly identical from this one, and of the man who sits next to her now. So instead she nods, and this time does reach out for his hand; squeezing it if he allows her to take it. )

Any time, Astarion. Truly.

( He need only ask. )

[ancunin]

[ It's not the sort of expression he's too used to seeing pointed his way. In all his time, only one other person has seemed to care for him this way, a fact he's reminded of again and again.

He's equally surprised when she reaches for his hand, though he doesn't pull away. His skin is cool against hers, his palms only lightly calloused.

He knows he's done nothing to earn this kindness. He can't promise he'll do anything in the future to earn it, either. But for now, he just enjoys it. ]