the faded

both scapegoat and swordslayer

[strigoisak]

Person: @einolegion Location: Caer Glass, outside "I haven't even asked you to give me a hand yet." It's deadpan as he looks sideways at Eino from where he's sitting and checking the current corpse before him. The plan was simple enough, find a new hand, reanimate it, stitch it on. It's easier said than done with one hand, but that's why he had Eino.

[einolegion]

Saying this was out of Eino's wheelhouse was putting it lightly, but he looked upon Isak's sacrifice with great curiosity. The surgeon, the man who often fixed anyone and raised them from the brink, had cut off such lifeline with ease. In some way, it was wholly perplexing, while in others, Eino figured there had to be relief in being let go of such harrowing duty. “I will give you one when I am to find one,” his tone is eerily cheery in a way, as though the situation could not be anymore ridiculous despite the fact they were indeed living it. 

[xhakonx]

Hakon had strengthened his resolve a long time ago. His senses were sharp, his connection to stone, the same stone that threaded itself through the earth, would help him, now. He didn't need to lean on Eino, but his pride took a step back – and he dutifully followed his fellow Legionnaire back to Avalon. His sight was gone, one of those things that as a warrior, had been so precious to him. But now – he would adapt. The stone told him where someone was, his sharp senses weren't dulled – but the visage of what he'd seen, what they'd done, was enough to last a life time.

"If you'd be so kind," his voice was laced with a hint of mirth, though there was little to joke about when another old god was moments from breaking through. "Must be nice you don't get a shot past the Moongate. Lucky son of a bitch."

[einolegion]

What stories and haunts which followed Hakon were older even than Eino's seasoned self, but there was a humbleness within the Stone tonight and Eino would do little to poke at it. There was mirth in Hakon's tone as the Stone finally spoke and some relief filled Eino, however scarce. “If you would be so kind as to allow us to trade places, it would be my honor,” there was a touch of snide humor within Eino as well, but the Faded had never been one to beholden himself to lies; his reputation was built on truths and sacrifices he committed, time and time again. 

 “I had been foolish to believe we were to face such sacrifice tonight,” his voice was light, almost hesitant, which was very unlike Eino who normally spoke with such convictions. He knew, much like Hakon, that two had indeed made such choice, but for Eino once all had fallen into place it seemed his own feelings on the matter had been incorrect. Now had not been the time, however soon it may linger.

[raventeresi]

Who: @einolegion Where: Ankhuria Notes: Hopefully this works! part of my dealers pack for the latest plot drop and after our amazing weekend dnd session, how could i not?

The barrier in between Haven and Iskaldrik flickered as if the magic that had withheld it for nearly a year had finally begun to weakened, it beckoned her closer but to return to the land in which she had lost everything because of it's hatred of magic felt like a rope around her neck, and so she answered a mission from the Hidden Ones and found herself in Ankhuria where they revered the One God, she had secured the magical artifact that she came here for and she noticed the Legion emerge looking as if they fought through hell and back. "Do you want a drink? You look as if you've faced the prince of hell and won." It wasn't often that she offered to treat another but she wanted to be distracted by someone else's tale of murder and mayhem.

[einolegion]

This was the Legion's business and Eino was only slightly pulled from his own thoughts at a stranger poking at their journey. Many legionnaire's had dispersed in their own time, in their own ways, but Eino had not only lingered within the Temple, but had already gone back as though it felt strange to already leave it all behind. Regardless, here he was, and though he would not delve into Legion secrets with a stranger, he offered them this, “I am unsure if we are to claim victory, but just know you are to live another day for efforts warranted through this night.” That likely would not give any sane person peace, but Eino offered it all the same, knowing that even though Dumat had - likely temporarily - fallen, that Lusacan was still coming up quick behind her. 

[theegonurcan]

Even in times of conflict, even as a legionnaire, traveling into Astoria as a witch was risky. Yet there were times where the risk could not be avoided, if they wanted to prevent unnecessary loss of life. At first, Nurcan had been preparing to make the journey alone, but crossing paths with Eino had reminded her that despite Ophir’s betrayal, the other legionnaires would not leave her behind. It had taken a moment of courage to ask, but the answer that came was both expected and a relief. 

The relief was doubled a few miles off the town they had meant to inspect, as they grew surrounded by Astorian forces. Nurcan had stopped to spread her magic in a thin and invisible net, trying to locate any survivors or any signs of the Blight in the vicinity, when the ambush had begun. Focused as she was, she had no time to evade the blade directed at her, and the steel found its home, dangerously close to her gut. A grunt escaped her as she stumbled back, knee falling to the ground as she pressed a hand against the wound to staunch the bleeding. 

“I did,” she muttered, the pit on her stomach turning as she wondered if was destined to demonstrate her inadequacy on this journey. Breathing deeply to shake off the pain as she glanced up to Eino. “I do. But I can’t account for Astorian patrols.”

It took her a long second to realize he was asking her a question, but when she did, she frowned. Casting the net of her magic around once more in a quick, if draining, motion, she considered the feedback and nodded once. 

“I sense no Blight nor much life at all. Either my information was wrong, or the Astorian’s took drastic measures before we arrived,” she says as she pushes her knee with her hand and staggers into a standing position. Her other hand remains at her side, trying to hold herself together as she bleeds away.

[einolegion]

Eino grimaced, her injury even worse than anticipated, the other legionnaire clearly caught off guard and lethally. The blood flowed easily and though he would not relate the Astorian's to literal bloodhounds, Eino knew that the magic of such Weave within her blood would be filling the air and calling more to their location. Nurcan took the injury in stride, even as her knee buckled and she momentarily kneeled, Eino eyeing the perimeter around them. 

There were many areas they could filter out to, but only one which direction that would lead them back to Lysaran soil, and such journey was not without its troubles, such which would be worsened tenfold with what she had just sustained. 

“I am not the witch of our pairing, but I do believe you cannot rely on it any further for our journey,” his tone was firm though ebbed with worry that it would only trickle out to bring more enemies upon them the more she wove and practiced. 

“You must continue to staunch the bleeding, do not remove your hand from your side,” he was unsure how this would impede her use of magic and though Eino strongly recommended her to cease such weaving, Nurcan was her own person and he would not command her as though he was the leader of the two. 

There was a whistle that seemed to come from deeper within the village and Eino scowled quietly, looping an arm with Nurcan as though to hasten her pace and drive ground between who currently sought after them. Eino was never one to run from battle, but her injury was deep and he would not set Nurcan up for failure by facing such enemies head on. 

“We must get to obscured land; back to the thickets, the woods; there's a hilltop there,” he uttered these words above a whisper as they had edged behind a small cabin for momentary refuge. “Doing so will put us in the line of fire once more but I don't believe there is any other choice for us to make a cleaner break,” Eino suggested this before pausing to let Nurcan make the final decision of their fate. 

[ruyaceres]

The witches of the Tower had welcomed Rüya back with open arms, yet the chamber reserved for her as a member of the Queen’s Court remained sealed. She couldn’t bring herself to cross its threshold. Instead, she made her home among the sick. A narrow cot in Asclepius’ Hospital became her bed, and the infirmary her penance. She worked until her hands shook and her vision swam. Twenty-hour shifts blurred into a haze of blood and sweat, and still, the Olympian pressed on.

When news of Ardentgate's fall reached Eterna, Rüya could no longer bury herself in surgeries. The Blight was spreading faster than anyone could contain it, and every attempt to keep the city habitable crumbled beneath the rot. She'd clawed her way back to control over the months, but even her magic faltered against the sickness corrupting those who remained.

Seeing Eino amidst the horror was an unexpected, but welcome surprise. He stood as steady as she remembered, though circumstance had etched deep shadows beneath his eyes. The title friend stung more than it soothed. Her throat constricted and she hated herself for wanting to reach for him. Instead, Rüya slowly twisted the golden ring on her finger, as if the small movement might anchor her to the camp's makeshift floor.

"I've lived my life surrounded by ghosts," she whispered a moment later. "I don’t want you to become one of them."

[einolegion]

Eino was not meant to step foot in Ardentgate; the Legion had been called for some sense of containment, but they had all been drifting to Amon Sûl for their duties there were far more crucial and prevalant in containing this blight that leeched out in each crevice of the world. “Lusacan is not the only Old God threatening to rise from his hidden depths,” the legionnaire was certain that Rüya was well aware of this fact, her life was dedicated not only to healing and restoration but of the political cynosure revolving around the Queen as her dutiful Queensguard. 

“I would make the ultimate sacrifice a hundred times over if it meant absolving any other of becoming such ghost.” It was his truth even if Rüya's whispered timber exposed the true weight of how she felt of this choice. "I did not join the Legion for the accolades nor the heroism attached with such valiant effort,” in truth he had joined because a witcher had forced his hand, but Eino had adhered to such duty valiantly. "I joined for this very reason which looms over us now. Promise not to stand at my grave and weep, you are stronger than this.” He was not being critical of any sense of prospective grief, but there was no other ending to Eino's story that he saw fit than dying alongside his brothers and sisters of the Legion, even if it was looming so soon over the horizon it seemed. 

[truthfulbelladona]

“This does not surprise me, dream druids are few and far in between,” she says, feigning kindness even if her initial appearance had not been received as planned. That only made the entire more interesting, now that the stage had been set and the players were not following the script. The more difficult the journey, the sweeter the reward. At this point, it is a matter of will, and of who between the two of them will out last each other in stubbornness. 

“Many would be offended at the accusation,” Belladona comments but steps closer despite the other acting as if he were a cat bristling at a stranger. Sharp and handsome, all the more interesting prey. Reaching forward, she begins to pull at the branches keeping him in place, making sure to allow blood and wounds to appear on her palms as she does so. Damage she has sustained in the dream realm is never all too dangerous for her, but dream rules are odd enough that some people will find it more suspicious if she is not harmed at all. 

“I go to those who need help, following the Wheel and its will of course,” she lies pleasantly, the taste of rot at the back of her throat as she says the lines she once so sincerely believed in. “I felt as if you needed help, so here I am. Is that so hard to believe?”

[einolegion]

Eino eyed this woman carefully, a dream druid - he'd heard of them, however rare she claimed them to be, but Eino's information on them was truly scant at the end of the day. “Isn't your kind beholden to the magic of the wilds?” Or some flavor of that was his understanding of their capabilities and interest in the Weave. His eyes followed as her hands crept forward, eerie and slow, a huntress enamored by what they had ensnared. 

Even as her hands plucked at the branches, became wounded at each shift and pull, Eino did not relax, finding her questions and probing almost trivial to entertain. 

“Do you believe me to be some simpleton swordsman?” The question is almost innocuously posed despite the weight of it; with the way Eino had been trained, through the art of the mind before ever wielding a blade, he was not a man who could be so effortlessly fooled. “I will take admiration in your efforts and listen to what you, as a dream druid, suggests.” There's something borderline mischievous in his eyes as though he does not oppose playing along to the game so long as he relishes in the curtain dropping. 

[vuldak-ophir]

“Well, he sounds like a real daisy, doesn’t he?” Ophir drawled, his voice dripping with irony. He took another drag of his cigarette and eyed the red embers at the end of it fade to a smoldering gray before exhaling. “But it isn’t Riandur I’m referring to.” The Commander who had provoked Ophir’s joining had been a stalwart on a power trip. Though Ophir wouldn’t claim to have ever been the best of friends with Riandur–and certainly Riandur had never offered to frolic through a field of flowers with Ophir as Eino had–Ophir suspected that given Riandur’s own personal history he might be more sympathetic toward Ophir’s perspective. But sympathy did not mean forgiveness, and with a status like Field Commander to uphold Ophir felt fairly confident Riandur would not welcome him back to the fold with open eyes like some prodigal son. 

“What would we be doing instead? Would it be something more entertaining?” Ophir probed, refusing or perhaps incapable of taking life as seriously as someone with his lot in life perhaps ought to. 

The darkness this, the darkness that. Legionnaires often seemed to be of a one track mind, and Ophir might have mocked this if he was not equally concerned with the darkness, albeit for more selfish purposes. “I believe my resentments have always been quite charitable toward me. I’m still alive, aren’t I? And decades longer than the reaper would allow if he had the final say on the matter. A man learns to be grateful for such petty miracles.” Was living the same as chronically evading death, though? It seemed in these recent years there was little time to savor the nectar of living between scheming to ensure greeting another day. 

“I do apologize for the unintended slight,” Ophir smarted, his hand resting over his dormant heart. He wasn’t sorry, not really. Sob stories of orphans and other miserable wretches had never truly moved him, and they wouldn’t start now. “The water in the Keep tastes of the very decay it carries downstream.” On this, Ophir would not be swayed. “But you may spend it on whatever calls to you.” And if Eino did not pick it up the coin would remain discarded on the ground between them until some other traveler was lucky enough to find it by chance.

[einolegion]

“Perhaps instead of resentment, you ought to try leaning into forgiveness,” even Eino could be beholden to mockery, but he'd never consider himself lowly enough to stoop to Ophir's flavor of it. Much like the train of thought that revolved around their skipping, Eino retorted casually, though with little malice, "We would be having a special dance, Ophir.” Eino understood, before the calloused words even left his lip, that this would be of no threat to Ophir which is why the Faded had proposed this so casually. It was a simple truth not marred by any intention to be intimidating; Eino had long understood that Ophir had willingly deflected from the missive of the Legion and no bantering would suddenly hold the other to it once more. 

Despite this line of thought, Eino still openly scoffed as Ophir mentioned that of the reaper. "You are not the Dark's special little helper, you have only enslaved yourself for a chance at more years, I do not find that as a charitable endeavor for ones self. You are merely in debt and you will pay it when you are chained within the Abyss.” There was no reasoning with Ophir for the vuldak would never see his circumstances in such blighted light but Eino still reasoned with himself to speak this aloud as though something would trigger within the other. 

Eino stood at this, the two of them would revolve in vicious circles all night and nothing would come to a fruitful solution. He stoked the fire with his divine blade, dark eyes finding Ophir's within the cast of the flames, "Decay will soon pollute this world and you will not be exempt from it, my friend.”

[einolegion]

starter for @xhakonx.

where: leavin ankhuria

when: current timeline

note: let's try this again

As all went their separate ways, Eino tasked himself with accompanying a blind man home. The Ankhurian sands let off a cool air as nightfall came over them, a dangerous time as ever to travel but considering they'd only narrowly escaped death by the jaws of Dumat, Eino was convinced the Wheel would be merciful on their journey home.

“So am I to drop you off at the gates of Avalon where you are to make your ultimate sacrifice?” Eino did not forget what Hakon had mentioned in the tavern, but he wondered then why the other had chosen his sight over the immediate Calling.

[veseniya-tqd]

Strange dreams had plagued the Legion for some time, but a truly curious entity had made itself known in a detached yet simultaneously shared dream of the Legionnaires. It seemed to Veseniya that things were meant to become stranger yet. For weeks now, Veseniya had silently tinkered with the notion of how hordes of Darkspawn had been observed to operate with a singular path and purpose: a hive mind. She wondered with no proof positive: did this singular presence within the dreams of the Legion posit them as something similar to the Dark One’s army of misinformed, Blighted puppets? 

Veseniya opted to ponder this notion over the message left by their Commander as she followed Eino’s back whilst they wandered the wastes she had once called home. There were wiser Legionaries than she, ones who knew Riandur much better than she could claim to, who would untangle the riddle of his sudden and cryptic instruction far sooner than she might. The druid was pulled from her trance-like internal landscape and she had to repeat the patterns of Eino’s voice to truly engage with what he said to her that shattered the silence between them. “Ereshkigal,” she breathed, the name of the deity mechanical and memorized on her tongue. “Death is not a trap.” That was how Veseniya felt the goddess treated it: a trap, a corner, a cage. “It is not an ending.” Not without some sort of divinity intervening where they were not meant to: Her, Ereshkigal, the Dark One—the name of the deity and its details mattered little to her. The Weave was wiser. 

“Home… Too generous a word,” she said finally. “A cradle, a grave—if there had not been an Arch in between.” She looked down at the small granules of sand that swirled over the dunes that slowed their travel. “The dessert remembers all death.” She stopped low and picked up a fragile bone fragment before she crushed it between her fingers and allowed it to sift away from her palm in the slight breeze. It became homogenous with the sea of sand around them, now part of it.  “It is death that makes up her matter.” 

[einolegion]

Dreams and infernal nightmares were a rite of passage for the cambion, they'd taunted him since his youth and had simply become this cruel, albeit distant, background noise for him to tune out. Dreams could not wound him if he did not allow them such power over him, but this one with the dragon of silence, skulking in the shadows of twisted memories, was far too palpable and clear to ignore. This was something in similar cadence to the Calling, it felt like an End, and Eino could only wonder what they were to face when the sands of Amon Sûl inevitably welcomed them within.

"I am unfamiliar with this deity of yours," but he was of no simple mind and could place the context clues of why she would insert such name into their chatter revolving around Death and her many faces. Eino's head bowed, he understood the lack of warmth when it came to the word home. "I never imagined Ankhuria as somewhere kind; just like my glacial home, the blazing sun can scour just as much as the ice of Iskaldrik." Eino appreciated her candor, there was much to be discovered within her words.

[einolegion]

So often people were shoved behind this invisible barrier Eino had established within himself; far, far away, where nothing could ever wrought harm upon them. Even the Legion, this bastion of defense, made of surly and strong-armed people much akin to himself, were people Eino allowed at this distance, separated starkly from him. It was a necessary drought, something of a repercussion for being born of this tenebrous ilk. When he was simply a child he was told how much devastation his kind could bring upon the world and he vowed never to indulge, only to wash away the sins of bleak darkness established in this world and the strong threads which tied them here.

The ocean still wafted from the witch, salt and survival, this testament to what Rüya had endured and what she could still overcome, even after sapping only a fraction of this tangible weave of magic within him.

Rüya shivered and stumbled, this shock difference that was this warm, beating body of someone he cared for, now carving that distance which he so often was the one to instate. With this he understood, those of their kind, of their position in this world, were not privy to these moments of tenderness spliced between the violence. It simply wasn't what they had been made for.

"Do let me know that you've made your return safely." Clumsy, cold, he felt sorry that this was the way it simply was to be but Death had carved her name into his side the moment Eino had been born unto this harsh world and he knew the day was soon when he would be delivered back to her.

[ruyaceres]

It took what little energy Rüya had remaining not to flinch. Her lips parted, as though she might answer him, but no words came. The weight of their shared burden lodged itself deep in her chest. Neither were made for anything beyond violence and death, let alone tenderness.

Her gaze lingered on him longer than it should've, drinking in the sharp lines of his face, the dark curl of hair at his temple, the way the dawn light caught in his eyes. She wanted to tell him she would return safely, if only to spite the demons who'd violated her body and soul. She wanted to beg him not to surrender himself so easily, not when she'd only just found him alive on these shores.

Rüya had no such luxury. Her throat ached, but she swallowed the words, burying them like all the other selfish wishes she had no right to keep.

"I won't forget your kindness."

Duty coiled sharp in her gut, louder than longing. Survivors—there had to be other survivors. Every second wasted on her hesitation meant another lost. Her legs still trembled, but she turned and scooped up the cambion's cloak.

Do let me know…

All Rüya could give him was her retreating back, a silhouette bent to the tide.

END

[ruyaceres]

She didn't remember reaching for him. Only the pain and the sense that she was unravelling faster than she could knit herself back together. Then his hands were on her, catching her before she could crumple into the salt-kissed boards. One arm locked behind her shoulders, the other around her waist, grounding her in the present while a storm raged beneath her skin.

Then it was over. Rüya managed a breath and nodded. Her curls stuck to her cheeks, soaked and tangled, but she was alive. She didn't say what this meant, to see his face after thinking she'd die alone. She didn't have to. The truth of it lived in the damp press of her palm, where his heat still bled into her skin.

Rüya felt her heart stutter. Her body knew it would rather stay here, tucked into the steadiness of Eino's arms. She was still healing, but she had no right to comfort after what she'd done. Carefully, the witch drew back. Her injuries ached, but that was endurable. It was the cold that struck her worst, the sudden absence of him.

Rüya shivered as the air rushed back between them, wind licking at the curve of her neck where his breath had just been. Her hand lingered at the edge of his tunic as if her fingers hadn't quite received the message. Then, with the smallest sigh, she let it fall to her side. She wanted to say thank you. She wanted to say I'm sorry. She wanted, foolishly, to press her mouth to his.

"Yes," she whispered instead, her voice hoarse. "I should take my leave."

[einolegion]

So often people were shoved behind this invisible barrier Eino had established within himself; far, far away, where nothing could ever wrought harm upon them. Even the Legion, this bastion of defense, made of surly and strong-armed people much akin to himself, were people Eino allowed at this distance, separated starkly from him. It was a necessary drought, something of a repercussion for being born of this tenebrous ilk. When he was simply a child he was told how much devastation his kind could bring upon the world and he vowed never to indulge, only to wash away the sins of bleak darkness established in this world and the strong threads which tied them here.

The ocean still wafted from the witch, salt and survival, this testament to what Rüya had endured and what she could still overcome, even after sapping only a fraction of this tangible weave of magic within him.

Rüya shivered and stumbled, this shock difference that was this warm, beating body of someone he cared for, now carving that distance which he so often was the one to instate. With this he understood, those of their kind, of their position in this world, were not privy to these moments of tenderness spliced between the violence. It simply wasn't what they had been made for.

"Do let me know that you've made your return safely." Clumsy, cold, he felt sorry that this was the way it simply was to be but Death had carved her name into his side the moment Eino had been born unto this harsh world and he knew the day was soon when he would be delivered back to her.

[theegonurcan]

“Perhaps, but is it a wisdom worth pursuing when it comes from such a threatening silence?”She muses, defaulting back to her training back to the Tower. There is often no true correct answer when it comes to magic, just introspection and deliberation as one works through different problems by thinking critically. “One could also say that when truth is replaced by silence, the silence is a lie. And I believe there is a lie at work with these dreams. The dragon does not identify itself, it does not offer explanation other than offers meant to tempt. Surely the silence it seeks, then, cannot be anything else but a lie meant to draw us forth.”

It is not a happy thought, nor one she would have liked to dwell upon if it wasn’t a pressing issue. It’s too concerning, however, to hear that Eino had also dreamed. She will have to check on the others, to see if they had all received the dream. If they had? Then it was truly concerning. 

“You be careful as well,” she tells him, even if there is no doubt in her heart that the Blademaster can take care of himself. It would be a disservice to think otherwise. “It might have tried to tempt me, but it is concerning that it took an antagonistic tone with you.”

[einolegion]

"I believe it has identified itself even if we do not all wholly recognize it," the silence was telling, a thematic resonance in all their dreams, even if this knowledge was only shared currently between the two of them. Two was enough to invoke a pattern, one which did not bode well. "Death will have me when she is ready, no matter how much care I warrant to take," Eino knew this was not something soothing to remark to another, but it was his truth and he did not fear it no matter how much closer She loomed.

Eino turned and walked out of the kitchen.

[truthfulbelladona]

If she had any less self-control, Belladona would be clapping in delight at the sheer emotion exuding from her chosen prey. The taste of fear and rage permeated the air, and the tarmac of her tongue and she could not help the shiver of delight that ran down her spine as the poor unfortunate soul created the perfect stage for a game. For a moment of wild abandon, knowing that he could not see her trapped in his dream as he was, Belladona’s lips split into a jagged smile. The Kossith had taken her most prized possession: they had taken her control away, so getting it back was exhilarating. She is drunk on power, and yet that same power remains firmly on her grip as she carefully gathers herself. Delighted she might be, but she still needs to play her role of savior. 

Eyes closing, she runs her tongue over her lips to savor the rage in the dream one last time before she brings forth the mask she had chosen to wear within dreams. The brightness of glee found on her eyes dims, turning into a realistic facsimile to worry as her expression smooths out into grim determination, and Belladona steps into the dream. 

It is dark within, a sweet and overpowering darkness that she hates to disrupt, but does nonetheless. Softly, steadily, the lamp hairpin on her hair illuminates her surroundings like a halo as she makes her way to the dreamer, the forest parting before her. She makes sure that it does not part too easily, letting branches and thorns snag on her clothes and hair, one even leaving a thin bloody scratch on her cheek as she finally makes her way through to the dreamer. 

“There you are, I have been looking for you,” she says, concern coating her words as shining as fake gold. “Your dreams have been touched by something dark, we must hurry and get you out of here.”

[einolegion]

"The strangers of my dreams do not often speak to me," they are often in the background, meant for something fleeting, a tangible and broken accord of something he was never meant to save. But this one, she spoke, and it nearly evoked a snarl out of Eino. This façade of concern does not provoke trust in Eino for the cambion had learned rather quickly the fruitless conviction of such trait; to be trusting, it offered nothing but trouble. A similar disservice of trouble was staring at him now, offering a helping hand as if it did not drip with blood.

The trees which bound him seemed to cinch tighter as though displeased with his lack of manners regarding this intruder of his dreamscape. He was no expert but so often dreams flashed before his mind as he slept and often the cambion tried his best to decipher them as the unwilling participant to the dark picture they often painted.

"And my dreams have always been soiled with this darkness, it is simply apart of me, much like I have to be inclined it is part of you." Eino studied her carefully then, the bloodied smear on her cheek, the lack of light in her eyes, "What of my dreams calls to you?"

[vuldak-ophir]

“I find that preposterous coming from a blademaster like yourself,” Ophir mumbled, releasing a puff of smoke into the night air before lifting his cigarette back to his lips. The smooth, golden surface of his cigarette tin glinted in the firelight as he offered it out to Eino, four cigarettes still inside. “What would you have me do as penance? Return to Caer Glas or Amun Sul or whatever condemned tower they have tied you all to and beg to be leashed again?” Ophir suspected the only thing that would satisfy the “crime” of his departure would be indulging the Commander’s elicit glee in publicly stringing him up like an example–like the tales he heard of the savage Kossith in their dreadnaught. “Regret, my former comrade, suggests a choice. I assure you the Joining was anything but that. Resentment–that’s the word that sits better with my history than regret.”

“I am fully convinced that someone of your upright ethical standing believes I have fully squandered each and every breath I have drawn,” Ophir mumbled. Eino, if they truly felt that way, would not be incorrect. Ophir conducted himself as something as a black hole, ever consuming, never sated, wasteful and dissatisfied in all moments. “At least I am nothing if not consistent in my moral failings.” 

And yet, he clung to this empty and lacking life, because the only thing less fulfilling that his vacuous self interest would be the abyss that awaited him. No Legion could save him from such a fate, no moral compass, nothing–nothing save finding pathways to extend his years longer and longer. This desire to evade death was the true reason he had left the Legion. Perhaps if they could promise him eternal life he would have remained dutiful in perpetuity, but they could not. Ophir would need to find such pathways to prolong his life on his own, independent of the distraction of duty. 

“There is always a fool with purse strings dangling if one knows where to look. Plenty, in fact, lately. Say now, why don’t you take this and purchase yourself a drink finger than that ditch-water they pour at the Keep,” Ophir drawled. He flipped a large golden coin in Eino’s direction. The way Ophir saw things, Legionnaires were just short of taking a vow of poverty. Eino could spend the funds on good ale or a fine meal–not watered down plonk and unpalatable slop. “I just might–that world hasn’t been much of a lark as of late.”

[einolegion]

"Riandur's leash reaches far, you know," there was this rare smirk on his expression indicative of the true meaning of his word; they were all tied to something, why must Ophir paint their threads to the Legion as this hell to be relieved from? "If I believed you to be of the ilk that deserved penance we would not be sitting here chatting, Ophir." There is no threat laced in his words but it painted the picture of his leniency in the moment, of the disgrace of his own oath to cut an oathbreaker such as Ophir down. It did not pain him to refrain from this justice, he was calm within, but if they were to judge on the monsters they truly were biologically, then Eino was never meant to have the chance he had to dispel darkness all this time. His opinion was worth little on the matter of what was decided for Ophir, but Eino still offered grace to someone who would surely cut his throat with ease if the tables were turned.

"You were gifted to darkness, maybe you even walked towards it, but don't mistake my current passivity for rigid morals," Eino was on the side of good but often that did not express he was simply, in totality, a good man; each carried their horde of troubles and darkness, Ophir merely wore his more prominently on the surface. "I suppose resentment is your penance then, for you will suffer and grow darker the longer you carry that with you." Indeed, Eino offered the vuldak a pitied look this time around.

"I know the true taste of ditch-water, having been an orphan, you know," he talked and chattered of his past for it was no secret. Eino of Iskaldrik was told in many circles of the world; a boy with nothing, granted everything and more, wielding the power of a name and a blade because someone had given him a chance. Eino held no emotional attachments to his past and brought it up as humor as though they were old friends and both could relate to the memory. "The water at the Keep is fine," taking it further he stated this, disregarding the coin Ophir had offered without even so much as glancing at it.

[einolegion]

starter for @xhakonx.

where: somewhere between here and there

when: current timeline

note: hey dere

Not everyone had been situated at Ardentgate and various legionnaires continued to trickle forth toward Amon Sûl from all over the depths of Lysara. A night of rest in some lowly tavern allowed his path to cross with the Stone and even Eino, as still as his mind had become in training, had questions and curiosities. "You started at Amon Sûl, yes? At least that is what rumors are whispered of you," often Eino spoke so cryptically but there was a puzzling bit of a half-smile on the cambion's face, knowing they were soon to face Death in all her devastating glory.

[einolegion]

starter for @veseniya-tqd.

where: secreeeet tunnnelllll ! (not really we just out hea travelin)

when: current timeline, after riandur clapped his yiddies and sent us a note

note: as discussed

Eino had received the message alongside Nurcan but after their excursion had noted, firmly, that it was in the witch's best decision to linger behind even a day or two if she was to survive her travels to Amon Sûl. Death had seemingly been sealed upon the raven and the envelope it had gifted, but that meant they were to arrive at their greatest strength if they were to succeed within this battle.

Veseniya often never said much, similar to Eino, and it only relieved the cambion to thus travel alongside her. The journey, still, was long, and secrets shared and truths revealed only made them stronger to face this darkness. "Something tells me we will face one of Death's many faces, but something also tells me you have witnessed her visage before." He could see the weight of this on her because it bore a similar weight upon him, such cruel truths recognized one another, but he breezed from this comment onto the next as though he was merely chatting about the weather.

"The journey here is not easy, but Ankhuria - it was once your home, no?"

[einolegion]

starter for @ruyaceres.

where: anywhere between eterna or caer glas or even the astorian border

when:  before riandur's letter, like even a good week before said letter

note: as discussed !

So often the cambion did not know what to say and he had allowed Ruya to walk away when she had clearly still been reeling from the affects of the Kossith. Even the cambion could feel remiss to have simply watched her walk away but the South had needed him and he could not follow. This time when Eino spoke of goodbyes there was a clear heaviness in the air; he would head to Astoria once more, aside another legionnaire, but that hardly made the missive any easier.

"I am not sure I will see you again as the Legion's reach grows wider; places where even a Queensguard cannot follow." He often did not garner attachments, the Legion had become his family as screwed up as they were, but Ruya was not one of them and though he'd disappeared many times before this time it felt final, this time he was sure their paths may not cross again. "But I felt it you were owed the knowledge of this, for you have been a good friend to me, Ruya."