RECLUSIVE

you keep to yourself but you're never alone. the voices of the old ones race through your mind, their bloodline coursing through your veins. great power at a great cost; oh woe! pity the ABOMINATION who pursues the path of a hero...

[eldritchbled]

QUINCEY.

         “ when i’m beheaded, at least i was wedded;            and when i am buried, at least i was married… ” ♫

quincey carried each verse with a steady lull that seemed so uncharacteristic from the manic strums that not only occupied the typical empty air of the tavern, but filled it with such a rowdy energy, that one could not help but allow themselves to be made a victim of it. there’s talent in that, even if nesdin wasn’t one to partake. but even considering the even pace, she more than made up for the chaotic energy with the content of the lyrics. 

he says nothing, merely nodding his head in time and sending a wan smile her way. 

she, the talent that few would appreciate in their time. he, her captive and more than willing to give her the attention she deserved. what else could he give her?

[eldritchbled]

SISTER.

“Of a sort, more a volunteer than an official. I be someone who takes their time for the mere honor of restoration and the comfort it brings me, not out of a duty from anything but the comfort of the Light.”

He looked quite filthy, quite miserable. A thing who was thin and starved and beaten, and her gaze did not escape the brand on his head. A mark of a heretic, cast out of the church for the beast that lay within him. She folded her hands easily beneath her vestments, a stance of someone at ease. 

She was not ignorant of the danger–she had seen him, and she had known that he would strike in an instance, should she upset him. Her ease was, in part, her own defense. In part to soothe the other. She was a vestal, yes–but not a fool.

“At the very least–a bath would be a welcome change to thee, am I wrong to guess so?” She asked, her eyes squinting in bemusement. “We have some of the Abbey restored, I could part with some warm water and soaps. The cloister hall is open, I assume you are familiar with meditation? It would be better than pacing, yes?”

“I... Yes, of course, a bath would do well for reasons beyond hygiene.” there was relief to be found soaking in the comfort of a washroom that just wasn’t the same as Nesdin merely splashing his face with the tepid water from a river. there was the sense of self-respect in keeping oneself washed and clean, something he neglected on account of the fact that he didn’t particularly value his own life. 

a beast with good hygiene was still just a beast. 

“It would be good for my... health, I admit. If it’s not too much trouble?”  he’ll accept her offer  of soap and fresh water; may the Light bless her for the act of Charity. “I am. Ah- familiar that is. Meditation strengthens self-awareness, something I require a great deal of in order to suppress my more.... uh negative urges.”

he gulped. he considered the fact that if she went out of her way to help him once , she would do so once again. 

“A personal matter. Nothing you need to worry about.” 

Yet. 

[undefinedsuggestion]

you exist within your own head, not in the peripheral

[riesstiu]

Returning to Darkest Dungeon part 3: Poison Birb

[eldritchbled]

Plans to venture into the Ruins this week. Have yet to let the beast out but still nervous. Going on a mission without Reynauld... It’s easy to take orders from him. Helps keep it quiet. But Sadie is here and she has a disposition that’s good at distracting it. 

Nervous. 

Reynauld hasn’t seen it. Junia knows but hasn’t seen it. There’s something about witnessing it first hand that transcends any description I could hope to give, not the sort of thing you can prime others for. Damned fingers keep twitching these days, otherwise I could fashion a sketch. 

Getting hungry, going to stave it for as long as I can. Easier to fight it when I’m awake and we’re both starving. A meal before bed keeps it from prowling for a fresh one.

It’s a hard regimen, but what matters is that I’m trying. No news of any fellow comrades or villagers going missing so far.

sgd. Nesdin 

[eldritchbled]

@stresstal

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Perhaps you should take time to sit, rather than work yourself up into a tizzy."

it never occurred to him that his pacing and uneasy demeanor had the potential to drive others into discomfort. as much as he would love to fade into anonymity, nesdin ironically carried a presence that was hard to ignore; it wouldn’t be inaccurate to liken his behavior as that to a hungry mongrel circling its food. “I was hoping to... Well, I didn’t want to trouble anyone.” her presence, meanwhile, reminded him of a concerned mother. something unusual for this wretched hovel they were unfortunate enough to call home.

he made no secret of his intent, eyes darting between her and the abbey’s gates before nervously coughing and turning his head downwards to... ‘admire’ the buildup of what he  assumed to be grime underneath his nails. “I need... What I mean is- I had planned to spend time within the abbey. I take it that you’re a... sacristan of sorts?”

he was impressed. usually by now, he’d call the mission botched and make a careful retreat. but this woman... she- she was a welcome change from the typical contempt most took to when they spied the brand upon his brow. 

[eldritchbled]

"Are you quite alright, sir?"

@stresstal​ | another life.

even the staunchest of hearts inevitably gave way to the horrid ventures demanded by a place like this; that in turn would lead to desperate pleas to soothe their wretched souls. a frothing hunger that only the pleasures of flesh would satiate, a guilty conscience sequestered in a cloister that would more demand than pray. 

though the Beast within would gravitate towards the former (albeit with a more literal hunger), nesdin did his best to steer himself towards the latter. only through the contrast of calming breaths and through the earthy scent of burning incense could he keep his mind active enough to resist the tugs of his eager tenant. though try as he might to keep evidence of the internal struggle hidden, this woman’s concern attested his failure to do so. 

“My, ah-apologies.” it was only now he realized that he had been pacing, bare feet collecting pollen from the overgrown goosefoot that coiled and twisted around the side of the path. “It’s nothing to.. to trouble yourself over. Nerves, is all.” 

believable enough and not an outright lie if all she had to go on was his aimless pacing and nervous fingering of his moth-eaten cloak. 

[eldritchbled]

@fatesreveal 

    “ you’re not the first to say this to me. ”

  elizaveta does not look up from the book in her lap when nesdin speaks to her, not at first at least. when a moment of silence follows her answer, she turns her gaze to him, eyes hazy in the dark of the room.

    the man bears a mark of the exiled on his brow. eldritch blood pumps through his body, shaping his very being into something the cult would find decadent. he would be a great ally.

    instead, he is their great enemy.

            “ i can leave if you so wish. i do not have to read here. ”

“No, no... I-”

he remembers people like her, just like her, back in his captivity. cultists whose eyes darkened with the lust of discovery, of appealing the deep desire to expand their knowledge. they didn’t care what they had to do the sate that thirst.

it doesn’t help that he finds her reading a book, as if to further reinforce his prior attributions to the character of the cultists who plagued the ruins. but that... wasn’t fair. especially when people like junia and reynauld gave him the same degree of trust they would any other comrade.

“I want to change that. I want to... ah-”

befriend her? trust her? like her? it was hard to place.

“What are you reading?”

it’s a good enough place to start.

[eldritchbled]

MISSANDEI

“That so?” She asks, flexing her hands one more time before picking up her arbalest and a strip of rag to clean it. She needs something to do with her hands, so she can concentrate on what he’s saying. 

He’s a good companion, Nesdin. Has interesting things to say, and a sharp mind. Fairly kind to others, in her opinion, when she’s seen questionable behavior directed towards him in turn, for the scarred brand that rests on the crown of his head. She wonders idly, through the fog of her brain, if he chooses to keep his hair short on that side, or if it won’t grow from the burn of the brand. 

She doesn’t ask.

“Bit controversial of an opinion there. Might be careful who you say that too.” She murmurs, running the rag up and down the wooden brace. It’s well oiled, and little blood has seeped into the seasoned wood. 

“I’m not a snitch though. Won’t share your blasphemies. Though I might tell you some of mine.”

“Kind of you to shelter me, Miss-” 

she took to maintaining her crossbow, almost without too much conscious thought to the movements her hands made. if he were the type to snoop, he’d have likened the action to be a common one of hers to ease her anxiety. the polished oak was superficially stained with blood, easy enough for her clean off with her rag... if only it was the case with men. 

“Oh? Rather bold of you to form a pact in the shadows with one such as I.” a ghost of a smirk plays on his lips, one easily hidden by turning his head to the side. was it truly blasphemy if what he proposed was a truer interpretation of the light’s doctrine, he supposed if enough people opposed his beliefs? yes. “Or maybe it’s just easier to muster up courage when the dark hides the work of your hands. In any case, I have no judgement if you wish to divulge.” 

 he didn’t think her the type to hold an opinion so strongly that she would consider it a blasphemy. most were just ambivalent— Missandei subverting this expectation was interesting indeed. 

[eldritchbled]

AYA.

     as he describes the way he’d let the others feed before him, how the beast had quieted while another buzzing reigned in his ears, she scribbles down notes into her own research book. while it might not be something she could publish, her notes are a source of pride for her regardless.

     strewn about her worktable are countless vials of blood, carefully measured out from the intact bottles that had been brought back from the courtyard itself. countless years sealed behind the stone wall that hid the gate of the old yard meant the bloodsuckers within had perfected bottling their stores, so they wouldn’t starve over the years. she simply had to measure it out, so long as gathering parties continued to go out.

     she swipes one of the vials into her palm now, turning to look at nesdin and the desperation crawling onto his features. there is the slightest tremble in his shoulders as his eyes dart from her face to the vial in her gloved hand and back. she isn’t cruel. she likes to think she isn’t cruel.

           “ here. i’ve enough to spare, but i want to make sure you don’t react badly before i offer you more. ”

  when he had come to aya, he compared the state of his unquiet mind to that of a very crowded room. several voices all muttering, speaking over one another to such an extent that it kept him from maintaining full focus with the real world. but when aya pulled one of the vials, there was finally a hush. it was as if every nerve was fixated on the paltry supply of blood: the crimson of its contents, the scratch of her leather gloves against glass, the nearly unnoticeable slosh of the liquid.

but then came the screaming.

it’s right there! rip it away from her hands!

there has to be more.... she couldn’t overpower you...

she’s a colleague, certainly she’d understand your need for more portions.

... how would her blood pair with it?

he didn’t realize he hadn’t really been paying attention to aya until there was slight tilt to her head, the unreadable visage that was her mask keeping from any tells that would’ve been typical for one awaiting a response. he tried to choose his words carefully, it was obvious she wanted something from him. “What do you, ah... need for me to do?”

[eldritchbled]

“ If I may: how /did/ you become like this? ”

SIX WORD SENTENCES | accepting.

@exhaledisaster

At first the man thought the query to originate from the recesses of his mind, the inner depths in which soft voices called out to him with a familiarity a lover might have at one moment and a coarse enmity another. They took a variety of tones, male and female, which promoted Nesdin to develop a steady grip on his composure whenever they spoke.

He didn’t answer.

But the question returns, this time with emphasis and a nudge of steel toed foot against his knee, which in turn results in his head jerking upwards to the source. He’s met with a broad form, a mask covering his face but the thick bandages more than capable of revealing his identity. They had never been… formally introduced, but eavesdropping had earned him the Leper’s name: Laurent.

Muttering a “Sorry.” before shifting his gaze downward, lest he aggravate his tenuous ally, the recluse attempted to collect the thoughts of his unquiet, burdened mind. The details before the ritual came to him as clear as a summer’s day: the years spent at the monastery, the years following spent as a prisoner when a cult of elder worshipers took his home by force; killing any potential defenders and torturing the rest. A zealot had taken particular interest in him for whatever reason, had insured that he take the brunt of cruel and unusual treatment. They had read from books, the words an unrecognizable language that nevertheless seared into his mind. They had forced strange liquid down his throat, transfused his blood with a substance that turned his veins thick and green. And then… a brand, searing hot, bearing the mark they proudly wore, it had-

His memories fail him after that.

The next thing he remembers: the cultists are dead, the monks are dead, and his hands are stained with blood.

He spares a quick glance upward, curious towards the man’s intentions, whether the knowledge was for the sake of understanding or to further judge his character. He supposes it was academic either way, as it would likely do nothing to cure his current state. “It was not my choice to become like this, so I’m… sorry to say that the details were not shared with me. All I remember was that it was-”

He flinches. He feels the cold wisp of a force trail along his mind, wrapping around him and speaking once more in that damnable language. His discomfort was especially indiscreet this time around.  

“Painful.”

[eldritchbled]

@valiantspirit

    she’s between songs for the moment, feet kicked up on the table at the tavern, and testing the strings to try and see what she might play next. it’s a nonsense tune, something that was just sing-song-y enough to go along with whatever story she conjured up next, that nesdin manages to match fairly well. not perfectly, but oh, not everyone could be blessed with perfect pitch.

    still, she laughs – it’s one she isn’t familiar with herself.

         “ ha! nesdin’s got a good sense for rhymes! ”

and after everything, it feels good to bring a smile to her face, to be able to bestow some sense of ease to one who had taken it upon herself to be fount of ease and solace. at times, Quincey’s lunacy was... endearing.

it went a long way towards lightening the mood. the least he could do was return the favour.

“How’s your improvisation?”

but he’s already giving her a start, quirking his head towards her as he cheekily compels her to partake in a challenge she’s yet to accept the terms to. “There once were adventurers from York....”

[eldritchbled]

@rallyingflare

Her ears are ringing, punctuated by only by crackling of their meager campfire that feels all too loud, and sounds too much like a house burning down. Her armor is still splattered with rotten, diseased blood. Vaguely, she remembers she needs to be eating, or bandaging wounds, or checking her weapons. But her hands are shaking, and her thoughts are shaking, and it feels almost like the earth is shaking with the steady flow of death and decay of this awful place–

“Wha-?”

She’s jarred suddenly. Nesdin is next to her, an old text open in his lap.

He’d been reading to her to calm her down. Right. Right.

“Sorry,” she mutters, roughly rubbing the meat of her palms over her tired eyes. “Can you say that last part again? Stuck…in my head.”

the injuries of the mind always flared up before that of the body. time and tonics could relieve the pain of battle, but the breaks in ones mental fortitude a different beast altogether. treatment had to be more... involved but fairly roundabout. direct administration risked resistance, after all, no one could deny an open wound, but pointing out shortcomings in ones resolve only acted counterproductive towards improving it.

no, it was best to try ones hand at more discrete means. quncey and chester played their instruments softer, dismas had his dark humor, audrey would share her snuff box, even reynauld’s fiery speech worked to calm the nerves. 

nesdin could read. something that surprisingly drew in the attention of more than a few of their company: alhazred enjoyed discussing writings of several different genres, ymira wanted to... learn, and now missandei, who looked like she needed a steady rhythm of words to still her own frantic heartbeat. 

“R-right... right.” he offered her a small smile and turned his attention back to his book, a treatise on the Light and its Church. naturally her attention would rear up at one of the more controversial bits.

“Nowhere nor in anything, except in the assertion of the Church, can we find that the Light founded anything like what we churchmen, the Flame, understand by the Church. I maintain that the Church is an expression of faith, but only one of many.”

[eldritchbled]

JUNIA.

“I do not–”

She turned dark, holding her hand to her breast while the attempt was made at mimicking Vaux’s voice once more, and she quite decided that he was definitely on the List for people she would take revenge on. 

Yes, most definitely.

“’Tis for the sake of your hobby of imitating my friend–and we are friends! I have never sought his company in that manner, and I should think it would be none of your business even if I made such an attempt in the first place! And you stutter too much, anyway!” 

maybe his performance had been lackluster, but that meant quite little seeing the desired result that was her reaction. every word coming out her mouth may have well have been meaningless prattle when one considered the grim, stony expression her face adopted.

as if he were a parent, inches away from uncovering some wretched secret hidden away underneath her bed.

“I am a bit shite at it, aren’t I? I fear you are opening yourself to the idea of further rehearsals with insights such as this, Sister. I also fear what may become of you should the day actually come that I muh-master the art.” 

[eldritchbled]

BOND : VAUX | WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, I AM.

[eldritchbled]

[Beast] "You have forgotten who you are. Is this who you want to be? Is this really all you think of yourself?"

@bilerot​ | WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, I AM.

at one point, he had everything he could have asked for.

a community that cared for him, peers who challenged and cooperated, a home that he could provide for just as it did for him... a lover who could keep him from diving too deep into his work. it was a sufficient life, a good life.

but he wanted more. 

and that’s what keeps him grounded in this instance. they were both aware of what he was capable of, his intellect blended with the raw power granted by the beast had actually granted a degree of potential that was terrifying. the strength to terrify, the knowledge to rule- it was a promising combination. a chance at something more than good. 

but he knew the price.

“Yes.” firm, unwavering control was needed to meet the beasts advances and force them back down. his life was humble, far less ideal than it had once been, but it had been from a mistake of his own making. he wasn’t so naive to think that the result would be any different this time. “I am a man who seeks to do good in spite of the suffering endured. Ambition is a self-imposed blinder, one that would lead me to ruin, one that has damned my existence with you.” 

[eldritchbled]

JUNIA.

“The evils in the world require such things, especially in a place like this, where the senses are playthings and the mind one of them.”

The Siren, the Hag, the Necromancer. The Creature of the Stars. All of them things that toiled in perception, with the Color of Madness being a thing that held it higher than the rest. The Crimson Curse, the Court that lay within it…all stories of losing hold of one’s self, and all the more reason to keep her companions closer. 

There were reasons, beyond just the Hamlet, but the Hamlet did itself no favors, either.

Were she anyone else, perhaps she would have been threatened by one who looks so closely to her friend, and makes a hobby of trying to fool her senses with it. 

“You may ask, but I will not guarantee I have the answer.”

and at that he takes a moment, sizing up her comfort before considering her initial reaction to his attempt at playing the role of Vaux. a playful thought comes to mind, one he would think worthy of originating from Quincey or Audrey.

“Is your wish for my bettering of his accent for the sake of authenticity? Or an aim on your part to maximize your... ah- appreciation of his character?” suggestions were best done with hushed voices, Vaux had said, he showed him how dropping an octave made the ladies of the night squirm in delight. he replayed that instance in his head, trying his best to copy the drawl of his vowels, the staccato beat of his slight stutter. 

“Sister... It’s rather buh-bold of you to s-seek out the company of both of us.”