child of darkness

i shut my eyes and all the world drops dead aff. raigh ( fe6 ) rp blog // black eagles student

[helleonne]

Tower of Doom and Desire

kingofwhitedunes​:

By some stroke of luck, Raigh had managed to cleave straight through Joshua’s wrist with little resistance. Though the monastery’s healers would undoubtedly be horrified—not that he would ever share the details of what happened here tonight—the wound would be much easier for them to mend. The offending appendage dropped limply to the ground in front of him, and the living sword fell with it. Its writhing never ceased, but Joshua was freed from its voice and its dominating will. Blood gurgled out from the open wound of his wrist-stump, splashing onto the cold stone floor in a thin and steady stream; Joshua’s only indication that he felt the blow was a noise that mixed a deep breath with a growl; he refused to give the spirit of the sword any satisfaction over what it made him sacrifice for his freedom.

Drawing out his Armorslayer with one hand, the maddened redhead raised it over the ancient blade in front of him before sending it spike-first into the other weapon. When it failed to make a crack or dent, he raised his Armorslayer and swung again. And again. And again.

“I’ll kill you,” he snarled, his teeth showing once again. They had returned to their normal, human state, save for his four canines—those still glittered like diamonds in the low light, but they seemed older and more precious. If one were to look closely, though, they would see the faintest hint of pale teeth at the very bottom edge. “You don’t want to get broken by another sword? That’s fine. You’re still gonna die.”

He wasn’t sure if he’d been driven mad by the weapon’s spirit possessing him, or if he was becoming delirious as he lost more blood, but he did the only thing he could think to do: he got down on both knees, opened wide, and bit down hard enough that the sword attempted to thrash in his mouth. The corners and edges of his lips grew bloody, but Joshua held fast; he bit down with force, for the teeth in his mouth were the teeth of his gods. The fangs of the makers had been passed from father to son since time immemorial, early in the lives of the next in line—the first method they used to defend themselves was also their last line of defense. There was no flesh, no metal, no bone, no stone that they could not cut through. In ancient times, an individual’s water had belonged to their tribe, but each of their lives belonged to the gods below the surface. Those gods were calling the sword home.

And so, with an ear-splitting scream from the depths of the void, the ancient relic’s blade shattered under pressure. A thick darkness escaped out from the base of the hollow weapon, along with a mist of what had once been Joshua’s blood; lifting the segmented handle up by gripping his own severed hand, he bit through the final ball-joints to sever the pommel-stinger from the guard and handle. The last attack the sword levied against him was an attempt to stab through his eye, but it was too close to his face; the best it managed was a cut along the mercenary’s cheekbone. It fell without ceremony, and as it hit the ground, a blood-red stone popped out of the bone it had been set into. Once and for all, the light in the room went out, leaving the pair of young men in total darkness.

Pressing the stump of his wrist into the hand it connected to, Joshua was pleasantly surprised—albeit deeply mortified—by the results: thanks to the dark magic Raigh had cast earlier, the nerves briefly reconnected, and he released his hold on the sword’s remains. Without anything keeping it in place, though, it quickly slipped away again. If he weren’t in so much pain, he would have laughed until he cried.

“I…uh…” in the pitch black of the tower’s upper room, Joshua couldn’t see Raigh, but he knew the teen boy was still present. “Thanks. I really, really couldn’t have done that without you. Not to be a total jackass, since you just saved me and all, but would you mind lighting this place up again so we can make our way out? The sooner I get to the infirmary, the better.”

A brief pause came over the room, and it was more than welcome after what Joshua had just gone through, but his curiosity got the better of him for the final time that night.

“I didn’t…hurt you while that thing had control of me. Did I?”

      Though Joshua kept resisting, Raigh keeps his grip firm on the Killing Edge, unwilling to leave himself without an extra layer of defense just in case. Of course, he was always a mage first and foremost; spells were what he knew best, but dark magic was slow.

Against a man who was just as unpredictable as ancient magic itself, Raigh might not be able to cast a spell in a defensive position fast enough. A well-placed blade, even if it's one he's not used to, might be the only thing to block the swing of another weapon against him.

And so Raigh keeps himself at bay, using the man's own blade as a way to establish further distance between them. The way Joshua dropped to his knees only caused the teen to tense more, unsettled and uncertain of what might come next. His blade held up was its own warning but perhaps not one entirely necessary.

The squelch of blood and sound of cries re-enters, making Raigh wince in pain even as he fights the assault of uncomfortable noises against his ear drums and equally gross sensations against his skin as he is unable to escape the spatter.

And then there was no more light. At last, there was peace even in the apparent danger that such lack of visibility brought.

“ ...Fine. I could use the light anyway. ”  Raigh casts another charge of Nosferatu, levitating the light above the surface of his palm again as he uses the back of his other hand, still wielding the Killing Edge, to wipe away at what blood droplets had spread onto his own face as well in the recent carnage.

At Joshua's follow-up question, Raigh shook his head.  “ Funny question to ask when you're the one without a hand right now. Last I checked, those are important for using a sword. ”

It's a silent, I'm fine, but also not the kind of thing he wanted to talk about at length. Having someone fret over him, especially in such a precarious time... The very thought made him squirm in utter discomfort.

“ Let's go. And as far as the nurses know, we just got into a fight with bandits outside the monastery, yes? ”  He begins to walk towards the exit, not keen on staying in the room much longer.

If he ever got another shot to come back here to look over things more properly, he'd do it alone. But... for now, he had to clear out in case things became ugly again. They needed to at least get to a more crowded place than this.

But for as cold as he might appear, he still looks back, always careful to make sure that the older man followed behind without collapsing or too much struggle, ever watchful over the redhead.

As far as Raigh could surmise, there was no ghost nor miraculous creature of intense rarity in the Goddess Tower— only a cursed blade and a kiss away from death's caress if he stayed here any longer.

                                                                                  — the end.

[helleonne]

alpha and omega

prhyst​:

Rhys loved spending time with children. They were so full of energy, and just being around them put him in a good mood. Perhaps some part of him wanted to catch up on what he’d missed when he’d been a child himself. He was endeared by them and even when they were.. strong-spirited, he wanted anyone he had the privilege of teaching to feel seen and valued.

When a request came to teach local village children some self defense to channel pent up energy he’d leapt at the chance.

He was a bit confused by his company, but he hadn’t addressed Raigh directly about his disposition. Everyone was different, and Rhys wanted to be accepting.

“Huh?” Rhys thought about Raigh’s comment. “Er… yes I do, actually. I think it’s fun to meet new people and spend time with children.” He remained a little puzzled as he spoke. “Is that bad?”

     “ Fun! Hah! ”  Was it bad? Well, it wasn't life-threatening, so no, but it still wasn't something Raigh agreed with.  “ You're still optimistic, I see. As if meeting new people isn't a pain most of the times... ”

It was an unpleasantness that stuck to some people and a waste of time with others. But now he at least knew why this man's mere existence seemed to gnaw away at his patience despite the redhead doing absolutely nothing at all.

“ Village children are harder work than academy children. Most people call them brats or turn their heads to try and pretend they don't exist. If we're being sent here because of some 'rowdiness', ”  he rolls his eyes, performing air quotes with his hands,  “ Then we're getting the most rejected of rejects. This life... It's not sunshine and daisies, much less fun. ”  

[helleonne]

Tower of Doom and Desire

kingofwhitedunes​:

“That will not be enough,” came the voice of the sword. “I have waited a thousand years for freedom. Do you think something as inconsequential as physical weakness will stop me?”

With the kind of smoothness one might expect from someone in complete control, Joshua stepped forward. The room was small; Raigh had nowhere to run, unless he could successfully bolt for the stairs. A deep schism began to form in Joshua’s brain as two egos fought for control of his motor functions—and the right hand of doom was firmly in the invader’s grasp. Without effort, the sword whipped out to strike at Raigh, straight at his unprotected throat.

At the last moment, the elbow of his right arm locked. The ancient, sentient blade was hairs away from splitting Raigh’s flesh apart, but green eyes hardened in anger as Joshua clawed for control of his body.

“Nice try, jackass, but I don’t kill kids. Not even when I’m possessed,” he snarled, and his left hand punched with force; the ulna supporting his right hand’s weaker side cracked, and pain shot through the redhead’s nerves. Pain was what he needed—it was a reminder that he was still alive. As long as he was still alive, he could still win.

“Why do you resist?” The sword asked, through Joshua’s mouth. “Do you not dream of your people returning to glory on the desert winds? For every peal of thunder to call your name? You cannot possibly believe it is enough to only take what was left for you!”

Joshua lashed out again, fully breaking the thinner bone in his right forearm.

“I dream that I can become as good a man as my father was, and that my gods bring their truth to the world.” The swordsman’s words were his own, this time. “I dream that my life serves purpose. You claim to know me? Call me by my title, then. Call me Naib, and tell me what it means! I don’t care if you’re a demon, a dragon, a corpse, or a curse, you know that word if you think you know me!”

[One who has sworn never to be taken alive by the enemy.]

It wanted to use him, because it feared him. In sifting through his memories—in parsing his blood—the sword’s living will had discovered something about Joshua that made it afraid. If he were more adventurous, or if the circumstances were different, he might have asked it what it learned. Instead, Joshua willed his foot back in the moment of the sword-ego’s weakness. He grew stronger with each passing moment. With his wrist broken, the weapon’s hold on him wavered, and he kicked his Killing Edge forward. All Raigh needed to do was pick it up and swing.

“The clerics can re-attach it later, kid. Cut it off so we can break this damn sword to pieces.”

    He almost could have died there. Of course, Raigh knew that, knew that there was that chance ever since Joshua had started acting unlike himself, but it's the feeling of a blade a hair's breadth away from his skin that really lets that reality settle in, stirring up a cold bead of sweat on the side of the boy's temple.

Not the time to think about it, Raigh berates himself internally. Not when he's not anywhere near safety just yet. Just make yourself safe.

The demons Joshua deals with as Raigh tries to formulate a plan on how to escape the cramped Goddess Tower are hard to not notice however, clashing with Raigh's own thoughts. Though the shaman has seen victims of darkness before, they are quiet in their violence. All their hells are internalized, skeletons best kept in the closet and ultimately secrets brought to the grave as the dark mages prove to be nothing more than walking corpses.

This is the first Raigh's experienced where it allows him to hear every word of it, of another man's experience with the darkness, and he finds himself surprised to hear it's not too different than the whispers he gets from the tomes he uses.

( Of course. Human experiences may vary here and there, but human weakness is always there, temptation difficult to overcome. )

The blade is kicked his way, and though Raigh wouldn't ever dare call himself a swordsman, needs must. Even Joshua is asking him to be more severe, and with such explicit permission and dire circumstances, Raigh takes it, feeling the weight in his hands.

A little less heavy than he remembers martial weapons being. This... he could almost deal with.

Sucking in a breath, Raigh readjusts his grip on the sword's hilt to be more secure before he moves like a flash in the night, all hesitation extinguished as the blade cuts more effortlessly than he expected— crimson blooming even further in that amber light.

[radiantpriamos]

helleonne​:

fool me twice

    As Priam goes to help shield him, Raigh sets to work immediately beginning his next incantation. Dark magic took time, being the school of magic that was always the slowest, but there was a reason it still held a place in the trinity. Blades meet and fly back, Raigh in his own little bubble until he reaches his hand out.

“ Die already. ”

A tremendous wave of deep blues and violets burst from Raigh’s small frame like a roaring fire before launching itself at the group of thieves. They grip the gang, sucking out the life force from them before the lot of them drop to the ground no better than discarded dolls save for the way they still drew breath. The dark magic sinks to the earth with them like sludge before returning to Raigh as he punctuates the scene with the loud clapping of his tome’s hard cover being shut tight.

“ There. ”  Raigh deposits the tome back in its holster before turning back to Priam.  “ I don’t care what you do with these fools, but I’d like to figure out a way to bring back all the supplies before sundown. ”

Raigh was destructive and efficient in one incantation of something beyond Priam’s scope of knowledge. He’d like to keep it that way.

He stared, looking at their vanquished foes. He was tempted to make some remark about not getting on Raigh’s bad side, though he figured Raigh wouldn’t appreciate it.

Priam nodded solemnly. “Let’s get our supplies. If these bandits have cohorts… let us leave them as a warning.” He both didn’t want to deal with giving ambushers and thieves any honor, and he also wasn’t fond of the idea of touching bodies after whatever Raigh had done to them.

He had a new respect for Raigh going forward— but it didn’t stop him from fluffing Raigh’s hair once on the way back.

[helleonne]

                                                                                — the end.

[helleonne]

made for each other - sharena & raigh

ljosalir​:

          sharena rests her chin on the bend of her palms, kicking her legs as raigh responds to her rant.   (   the silliest thing.  the conversation began with sharena bringing up her favorite children’s book turned into a recent play adaption.  something she had been wanting to see for years now.   )   his beginning statement is met by a pout as she picks up where he ended with a question,   “   but doesn’t the idea seem great?  knowing that you’ll meet the perfect someone and live a happy romantic life with them.  aw, it warms my heart!   ”

          and, truthfully, it does!  soulmates was always a concept and reoccurring theme in the children’s books stacked in the corner of her bedroom in askr.  it’s a sweet idea, one that she partially hopes is real.

          “   besides, there are no odds stacked against you!  fate’s the one that gives you your soulmate, so it makes sense that you’d be destined to meet them at some point in your life.   ”   she raises her hand at the last question, turning fully to face raigh as she begins to put each finger down alongside a reasoning;   “   one, you and that random person might not have chemistry.  two, fate didn’t set you both up together.  three   —   actually, wait, raigh, are you disagreeing with this idea because of technical issues or is it the play i was talking about?   ”

for @helleonne​

     “ Plays are matters of fiction. I couldn't care less about whether or not a made-up story was realistic, Sharena. ”  A wrinkle forms between Raigh's brows as he replies.  “ The only problem with them is when people like you get your hopes up, thinking you can emulate the fantasies they sell. ”

If soulmates were real, there wouldn't be as much of a fascination with them in fairy tales and operas. Few care about the achievable or the norm. They want the lives they can't lead, the people they can't have, the loves they can never experience.

To get caught up in fiction was a waste of time.

“ If fate sets everyone up with a soulmate, then there's also no point in ever hunting for a lover, right? Because fate will just let you meet them. But that's not how it is. ”  Raigh now raises his own hand, fingers counting down as well.  “ One, the bridal festival and especially Charlotte wouldn't exist. Two, chemistry between people that aren't soulmates is entirely possible, or else people wouldn't have previous relationships. And three, you're telling me every single version of Ike in Askr is destined to end up with the same person? Really? ”

[helleonne]

Tower of Doom and Desire

kingofwhitedunes​:

A savage, wild grin threatened to split Joshua’s face apart, with his teeth visibly the same color as the sword within his grasp. The only exceptions were his canines; whether the teeth there were replacements for ones he’d lost, or decorative last-ditch weapons, nobody but the real swordsman knew…but they glittered like crystals, and their points looked sharp enough to shear steel. Again, he spoke, but the words from his mouth didn’t come in his voice.

“Adrestia?” He paused, his glowing eyes mirthful. “That brat’s fief? Surely you jest. No, boy…the keys to the Padishah Imperium rest in this body, and whether or not it can unlock the secret to reason beyond reason. It would take his bloodline as many lifetimes as there are generations between us, but I am patient. There is a reason my children no longer venerate me: they fear those with ambition for advancement. It is regrettable, having raised them in spite of their rebellious natures, but…there is killing to be done. What to us is holy, we sacrifice in blood.”

Joshua twisted the sword in his hand so that its hollowed horn curved down, only to raise his left arm and stab its muscled underside. The redhead shuddered, not in pain but in rapture—his near-manic laughter made that clear. In the low light, it was close to imperceptible, but the red gem in the pommel glazed over; in short order, a series of marks indented themselves into the blood-stone.

Immediately, a hoarse yell broke free, and the light in Joshua’s eyes flickered. Tearing his arms apart, the redhead’s rage was apparent; sweat began to form across his forehead as he struggled to break free from the sword’s rigid control.

“You don’t know who you’re fucking with,” he growled, blood dripping down to the stone floor. His expression twisted in the next moment. “I know exactly what I’m doing. I know more about you than anyone alive. Including you.”

The flexible stinger on the pommel wheeled around, stabbing into the back of Joshua’s hand. The redhead hissed in pain, but continued to battle for control of his body—whatever the weapon had done in attuning itself to him, it was clearly a gamble, because he’d been given an opportunity to fight for his life. That was a mistake he would make it pay for, because the spirit of the sword had committed one of the classic blunders. The most famous, of course, was to never get involved in a land war in Jugdral—but only slightly less well-known was that you should never go in against a Jehannan when death was on the line.

“Hey, chief,” Joshua said, keeping his elbows locked and arms far apart, “you got a wind spell to cut my hand off?”

    Not Adrestia then but a name wholly different and unfamiliar. If there wasn't an unreal, unhinged quality to the way Joshua spoke, Raigh would test his luck in asking for more, but this likely wasn't the time to be feeling fortunate— not when talk of blood and killing in the name of ambition is being thrown around.

The man was far gone. In an instant, this stranger aligned with all the tales of what happens to those on the cusp of losing themselves to power, letting its fantasies and might overtake them— at least, that's what Raigh thought, even inching farther back and poising his arms to cast a spell at any given notice, until  Joshua begins to cry out and break down.

So there was still some fight left in him, huh.

But there’s no time to be impressed, not as the man continues to struggle against whatever demon grips him.  “ !? H-Hey, are you insane?! ”  Raigh yells as he watches Joshua's own blood go everywhere. Obviously, the sword was doing something, but this couldn't be the right solution either.

“ Ugh, fine, just— just give me a moment, alright? But there's no guarantee I can help whatever's going on up there, ”  Raigh points to his own head as he starts to chant, fingers splayed out and pointed towards Joshua at the other side of the casket.

But it is not a gale of wind that manifests at his call. Instead, blobs of dark matter materialize and coalesce around Joshua's sword arm, a toxic sting reaching and trying to numb the very life and senses out of him as Raigh concentrates the spell more and more around the swordsman's wrist. 

Enough to try and make his arm too weak to hold a sword properly but not enough to make the arm unusable for good. Joshua might be going for an extreme, but Raigh didn’t have to; he wouldn’t, lest his mind turn out to be too weak for this world too.

[helleonne]

Tower of Doom and Desire

kingofwhitedunes​:

There was a significant part of Joshua that wanted to reprimand Raigh for going ahead of him and opening the ornate casket. It wasn’t for his hubris, or some misplaced sense of leadership, but simple self-awareness; if the two of them were to be put in danger, Joshua trusted himself more on the defensive end of things. That sentiment changed when the lid flew off, and a wicked wind burst forth from inside. How, the swordsman didn’t know, but why…

The soft amber light took on a richer hue as it dimmed, painting the pair in a more ominous orange. Joshua’s long hair seemed alive and alight as it whipped about behind him, and the smell of burnt stone crept into his senses. When the wind calmed itself, a series of eerie clicks and cracks resounded—a bad sign if Joshua had ever heard one. Stepping closer to the tomb, a voice overcame his unconscious thoughts. He could take up the sword.

A body writhed in its sepulcher—if a sword could be called a body. Yellowed bones, amalgamated into a weapon of war, exuded an ancient and desolate aura as they twitched and rotated. All was his for the taking. Joshua was no stranger to tales of “living” weapons, as his own nation’s legendary Audhulma had the ability to reject wielders it deemed unworthy; the sword in front of him, though, seemed to go beyond that sense of description. As its rich tenor voice spoke directly into Joshua’s mind, he could only believe that it was truly alive. He was worthy.

The blade itself seemed to be made of some kind of horn, talon, or claw, with its tip removed and interior hollowed. Blood belonged on the sand. In spite of the light curve, it was otherwise mostly conical; after death, someone had taken the initiative to knap it into holding an unnatural edge. Their purpose was slaughter. At the sword’s base, an enormous molar tooth had been fixed as a guard—flipped so the “blade” would act as its root. Theirs were the jaws of death. The handle was a series of conjoined vertebrae, ending in a smaller curved spike that wheeled around on a ball-joint. A blood-red stone was set into a bezel in the ball, completing the sword’s malefic appearance as a weapon built from death. We bleed for the right to breathe.

Joshua could feel the blood pumping through his veins as it slowed its slushy course, his last breath aching in sarcophagal lungs as the sword’s sinewy words reverberated. The sword has one use. He stared at it as it shifted, his Killing Edge falling to the ground without any sound reaching Joshua’s ears. His senses were overwhelmed.

Who fears to die in this war of ours? This war of mine? One begot two. Two begot four. Four begot eight. From the eight points of the cardinal stars, the Golden Path was born. Beyond each god was a stronger god, beyond each mountain was a higher mountain. We can surmount them. Supplant them. Two corpses in one grave. Legions of his kith and kin beneath him, behind him, ahead of him. A promise of what lay ahead for the once and future king. His hand reached out. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t stop himself.

We are one.

Like a shooting star, the light slowly faded as Joshua’s hand made contact with the handle, though it didn’t go out completely. Like a shooting star, it burned. Two minds processed each other at once, and one memory stretched back to a time before time. It was hate that made flesh. It was death that made motion.

“I understand,” Joshua intoned, though his voice was not his own. Dark green eyes radiated light, looking down at the sword in his hand. “The empire is mine, and no other’s.” He turned to look at Raigh then, seeming to view the younger male in a new way.

A pained look overcame Joshua’s face for several seconds, as though he’d recollected himself; staring at the boy, his wide eyes begged for something he couldn’t vocalize before his features once again smoothed over.

What do I need to ask of my lessers?

    Weapons made of bone— a description Raigh had heard here and there in his travels across Fódlan but had yet to actually see until now. The way it twitched, implying it was still alive, was hauntingly beautiful to the shaman who had yet to see anything like it.

There were weapons with curses upon them that basked in shimmering legacy like Armads, but this was something else entirely. Raigh never heard the whispers or felt the pressure from Armads. He hears and feels it now. If it weren't presented as the blade it was, he would have wondered if it was not too far off from the likes of Apocalypse...

But it seems as if his admiration would be cut short was Joshua reached for the blade himself. The clatter of his Killing Edge startles Raigh, making him wary of another intruder coming in, but the two of them stood alone in the Goddess Tower still— alone only to wallow in the eerie and dreadful air that this relic ( or something like it, at least ) left behind.

There's a marked difference between the way Joshua carries himself from before, and its his voice, resolute and grim, that calls for Raigh's attention back. Cerulean eyes meet sanguine ones, a madness swirling in Joshua's gaze that rivaled that of what the Mountain Hermit looked like when she taught him to reach for the deepest depths of darkness that laid yet untouched.

Though Raigh held a hunch, he still asks a surface-deep question to test the waters, but he does nothing to hide his suspicions, steps taken back and voice clearly on edge.  “ ...the Adrestian Empire? ”  

In it, an underlying line of inquiry: Are you still you?

[helleonne]

Tower of Doom and Desire

kingofwhitedunes​:

Joshua’s expression at the ease with which Raigh opened the doors could be described as equal parts flabbergasted and mortified. The idea that all of that security—or what looked like security—was a complete smokescreen? It set off warning bells in the redhead’s brain, every training exercise he’d ever taken part in screaming that this was a trap. So, naturally, he walked right up beside Raigh before going past him.

“I’ll take the lead. Cover me,” he said, hard lines casting a serious expression on his face…not that Raigh could see him that well, even if his charged Nosferatu was the greatest source of light inside of the tower’s base floor. That dim lighting is still enough to showcase the gloomy interior of the tower’s bottom room, consisting of a dust-laden table carved from wood and a single chair. Whoever had taken residence here, they’d abandoned the area a long time ago. After a few moments, though, he realized that Raigh’s spell wasn’t the only object casting light anymore.

Up the tower’s stairwell, a soft amber glow illuminated the stairwell from above them. There was no chance it was from the moon—that celestial body hung low in the sky, and its pale blue-white glare was nothing like the ambient luster overhead. Looking back to Raigh, Joshua raised a finger to his lips before shifting his Killing Edge into an attack-ready grip and starting up the stairwell.

     “ Well, aren't you kind? Alright, ”  Raigh agrees easily (though not without commentary), seeing as how Joshua was volunteering to give him the safer position. If they needed to make a run for it, Raigh would have the head start. If something attacked them, Joshua was the more likely to take a hit.

This would do quite well, then.

Though he had thought that, the moment something glint in the darkness besides his own magic, it takes a great deal of self control to not quicken his pace towards it. Curiosity has always been deadly, but there's something greater at work... Something pulling him like a moth to a flame, up the staircase with a tightening around his heart.

The source of the mysterious light grows ever stronger with each step until they make their way to a stone casket at the very top. Even with a full covering, however, the light and aura emanates past its prison, seeping out.

It's absolutely suffocating. The closer they've gotten, the more oppressive this weight on Raigh's senses, and though there is no clear enemy to guard the casket or block their path, Raigh struggles, at last extinguishing his charge of Nosferatu.

“ Damn it, ”  he mutters, realizing his concentration has finally broken.  “ Well, we can see fine enough now, can't we? Whatever's in there or leading us here is... well, strong, to put it lightly. ”

Though Raigh thinks himself cautious, the allure and curiosity prove too much— just what could be this intense in its siren’s song? What could be as intrusive energy-wise as the deepest of dark tomes? He steps forward out of the shadows of his peer, approaching the casket and with a great heave, pushes the lid off of it...

[helleonne]

the raven and the lamb

nagaficat​:

Deirdre claps her hands together happily when he gives his agreement but her joy is quick to dampen when suspects an ulterior motive. She would never make her kindness conditional and she has a difficult time imagining anyone who would. It fills her with worry for this poor boy. She will have to double her efforts!

“All I ask is that you come in and stay safe from the storm. It is bitter cold, even in here, and we have a long night ahead of us.” Deirdre pours her makeshift tea into two bowls and brings one over to Raigh. Snow is blowing in from under the door and she shivers. “It is much warmer by the fire. You need not stand over here in the cold.”

Her mind still wanders to the rest of their party but she knows that Raigh is correct. There is nothing they can do now but wait but that does not stop her from closing her eyes and offering a quick and silent prayer for their safety.

“You are correct, of course, but that means you ought to make yourself comfortable!”

     “ No changing your terms later, ”  Raigh barks as he takes the bowl of tea from her, letting the heat of it seep to his fingers. It's uncomfortable at first, almost enough to make him drop  it entirely from the sudden warmth but he manages, blowing lightly over the top of the liquid's surface.

Though she clearly does not like the cold, she came this way towards the door and stays there so long as he is. Obstinate woman.  “ Fine, fine— if only to make you stop fussing. ”

He crosses towards the fire, always looking back at Deirdre over his shoulder in the case she pulls something. He is reluctant to sit and leave himself more vulnerable, standing to the side of the fireplace as he takes a sip of the tea at last, sky blue eyes unwilling to let up on his fellow Black Eagle for even a moment.

The tea burns the tip of his tongue, causing him to wince but he pays it no mind. He flinches only for a split second before assuming his dubious expression again, hiding behind the bowl she has so graciously offered him.

[helleonne]

Tower of Doom and Desire

kingofwhitedunes​:

“I’m not sure it’s a ghost, and I’m not sure it’s not a ghost. They aren’t the only kind of undead monsters, and I’ve killed my share of those. Humans, I usually try to work with,” Joshua said, unafraid of any verbal condemnation that might come from the other man. “What kind of moron would explore a forbidden area without at least trying to protect themselves from whatever makes it forbidden?”

That was less of an insult to Raigh than a repudiation of his question about arriving armed…but if the green-haired teen took offense, Joshua wasn’t certain he minded. When you could conjure your attacks out of thin air—sometimes literally—it was awfully easy to rebuke others for bringing weapons with them. Joshua chalked it up to one more thing that made so many mages insufferable. Setting that aside, though, he refocused on the task at hand.

“Moving on, though…how do you want to get in? You don’t think that doorway will just open up on its own, do you?” Joshua tilted his head in the direction of a broad stone frame worked into the tower’s base, and the broad oak double-doors that filled it in. A weighty mesh of wrought steel had been layered over the individual doors, painted with a black coat that seemed to draw light inside of it. It looked far too durable to be forcefully moved or broken down, but there were no windows or gaps to be seen in the tower’s construction.

Joshua didn’t relish the idea of using his Armorslayer as a cold chisel to break into an area that he wasn’t supposed to access in the first place, but he had to admit that he was curious. Why the tight security? Why the oppressive means to keep prying eyes away? Surely the door wouldn’t open right up.

    “ Other undead monsters, huh, ”  Raigh muses over the topic. Though they've come up as topics in books before, they had all seemed like nothing more than tall tales. That is, except for the soulless husks that failed shamans ended up becoming.

It'd be a good opportunity to meet one if that ended up being the case. Though he had hoped for a dragon terrorizing these corners, a spent up shaman with great power was also a better alternative to the way the rumor mill had been spinning things.

But first, they had to get into the tower proper. Raigh looks at the door, appraising it. Sure, it looked sturdy, but...

“ Well, let's get the obvious out of the way first. ”  Despite not having high expectations for this, it might be worth it to know if there was some kind of hex placed to help keep this area truly forbidden to the student populace. He'd be able to know just by trying, and so he reaches out with his free hand, pushing against the wood and...

With a heavy creak, the double doors separate with little to no resistance other than what would naturally come of its heavy weight. It takes a bit of force but nothing near what Raigh would expect— just a light push, really!

He blinks dumbly for a few moments before retracting his hand back down to his side.  “ Well, that was easy. ”

Beyond the entrance laid an even deeper darkness, one that compels Raigh to step forward into it. He would disappear into it in an instant, if not for the courtesy to look back to his company with an impish grin alight with pure, boyish curiosity and excitement beginning to brew.  “ Shall we? “

[ljosalir]

A messenger owl perches itself on Sharena’s arm the day of her birthday, holding four paper cards with drawings on one side and a handwritten note on the other side of each. Though they were left unsigned, the handwriting should look familiar to the blonde.

Today, the hero being introduced isn’t a hero at all— technically. It’s Sharena, the princess of the Askr Kingdom, though you wouldn’t guess she’s royalty with the way she acts like she’s everyone’s buddy all the time.

And I mean *all* the time. Young or old, royal or not, this girl weasels her way into everyone’s hearts whether they like it or not. It’d be harder to find her alone than not, pah! Doesn’t she know sometimes people don’t need a whole party of people around?

But I guess that’s just what makes her her. She even does her part to introduce every single hero to everyone, drawing and writing the blurbs herself. Unbelievable. All that effort and for what? Just to make people feel included? What about herself?

Well, I guess that’s why I’m doing this. But don’t you get any bright ideas, Sharena. I’m just sick and tired of seeing you make a fool out of yourself to make others happy without even trying to gain something yourself. Let this be a lesson in thinking things before you do them. And don’t think I’ll do this any other day either! This is your one moment. I’m never drawing anything ever again.

          sharena cleans her area, throws away her trash, and, waving to the students at the table she had just risen from, makes her way out of the dining hall.  her hair’s still a mess, unfortunately; she styles her braid   —   not as neatly as alfonse does, but she hadn’t seen him in the dining hall nor his dorm room   —   and runs her fingers through locks of blonde hair before tying the bottom strands with a white ribbon.  on a day like this, she should have probably gotten dressed in something a bit more special but sharena doesn’t see the need for it.  after all, it’s only her birthday!  she still had things to d—

          there’s a noise above her once she steps past the monastery’s entrance.  fern eyes glance up to see an owl   —   not feh, she would’ve recognized the cute little thing   —   and she holds her arm out with a tilt of her head.  as expect, the owl settles onto her arm, talons curling and uncurling in a fit to get comfortable.

          “   aw, hiya there!   ”   sharena greets, allowing the messenger owl to drop the items into her open hand before flying away.  there are slight marks on her sleeve but she simply wipes them away and turns her gaze to the cards.  there’s four of them, neat and a decent size.  a possible gift for her birthday most likely but, after quickly looking at each of them, she realizes the lack of a signature upon the parchment.  sharena frowns slightly but pays it no mind.  a name might be mentioned in the writing so there’s only one solution to her curiosity.

          the askran princess retreats to her room, falling backwards on her bed and holding the cards up to her face.  but the relaxation of her posture soon changes; words are taken in and she sits up, shoulders low and eyes narrowed.  she holds each card with both hands, her thumb barely brushing against the top of the drawings.  she immediately recognizes the handwriting, the voice emitting through the words is as familiar as she would know which hill in askr is her favorite.

          sharena laughs, holding a hand to her face and turning the second card over to look back at the drawing.  now those, she can’t recognize.  but raigh.  she knows raigh’s the one behind the writing and, by the confirmation on the parchment, the one who drew the pictures as well.   (   sharena isn’t sure what to say about this feeling.  the tightening of her chest, the burning at the base of her throat   —   she swallows it down and yet it does not disappear…   )

          by the third card, her vision has begun to blur.  the black and white colors of the card melting before her eyes, swirling into something she can’t describe; sharena wipes her eyes and flips the card over.

          the last card feels heavier even though she knows well that all of them weigh the same.   

          ‘ I’m just sick and tired of seeing you make a fool out of yourself to make others happy without even trying to gain something yourself. ’

          “   oh raigh,   ”   sharena whispers, turning her head to the side and holding the card against her leg.  she shouldn’t be this emotional   —   this sentimental   —   over such a gift but bottling up emotions is only a timer before the top falls off.  she laughs to herself as she wipes away her tears, wetting the fabric of her sleeves and and scratching a bit uncomfortably against the skin below her eyes.  so, just for her birthday, just for this moment, she allows herself to indulge in the silence of her room.  the comforting lack of noise and physical contact; she cries only for a few minutes.  that much for herself.

          the bell rings throughout the halls and sharena leaves her room, making sure to freshen up before her mirror and stack the cards carefully and in order.  she keeps them in her hand, quickened steps fall soon into a stride   —   “   raigh!   ”   sharena shouts his name, as a warning and exclamation of joy, before she practically throws herself at him.   she’s all out of tears now but her voice is still raspy and undeserving of its usual chirp.  she and raigh don’t fall, thankfully, she keeps them upright and tightens the embrace, pressing her head against his shoulder.   (   if he can’t see the tears pricking her eyes then it’s easier to pretend they’re not there.   )

          “   raigh,   ”   she mumbles,   “   thank you.  thank you so much.   ”   sharena pulls away, a bright smile upon her face and she laughs lightly as she waves the cards in front of him.   “   would you believe me if i said this made me cry?   ”

          but the topic is changed immediately when she throws an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close.   “   and you can draw?  i didn’t know you could draw; it’s so cute!  look at the hands you drew for me!   ”

[helleonne]

Strike me down Zeus, you don’t have the- | dimitri & raigh

elegiac-boar​:

“That is-…well, not exactly. All are going to receive drinking water, even those that choose to stay back for whatever reason.” The prince rose his hands in a slight defensive manner, mostly to assure Raigh that there wouldn’t be any pressure on him to join the team into the honestly odd mission. But then again, said pressure just wouldn’t leave, would it? The pressure of needing clean water. It was obvious why so many seemed quite irritated- Dimitri understood.

The prince nodded, regardless. “I do, yes.” Looking around, Dimitri put two if his fingers in his mouth for a long, loud whistle. It didn’t take long for the pegasi and wyvern around them to show signs of discomfort and wariness, followed by a rather differently sounding bellow coming from the distance. 

Among the dark clouds was a wyvern flying towards them- but larger than those sent by the Church and Kingdom forces. Despite its size however, it landed perfectly near them without hitting anything on its way. “This is my uncle’s wyvern, Waloubet. He will be aiding us for this mission. Uhm, please do not worry about him, he is not aggressive by any means.”

He had to reassure always, because Waloubet was unlike most wyverns of Fódlan. Where his uncle enjoyed bringing Walou to meetings if only to bask in the looks of awe, intimidation and fear in the eyes of those around him at the sight of the drake, Dimitri felt a bit bad- Walou was very sweet, and he didn’t wish to make anyone feel uncomfortable by his presence. The wyvern in question eyed Raigh for a moment, its deep scarlet irises locked on to the mage before deciding that it had enough with a huff, returning its gaze to the prince.

Raigh’s offer earned him a surprised look from the prince. It was…an interesting way of looking into the matter- to the point Dimitri wondered if Raigh had a past as a merchant or mercenary of sorts. “I…suppose that makes sense. But please worry not, we shall collect enough water for everyone. You will not be forgotten nor injured- not on my stead.” He wasn’t sure if the mage was seeing reassurance of any kind, but he offered it anyway.

“We can both fit comfortably on Walou’s back, also. ” With a single motion, the wyvern adjusted its position so that Dimitri could climb on to its back. “Do you have the buckets ready, Raigh?”

It was going to be an odd, yet intriguing, experience.

@helleonne​

    Wyverns. Of course it'd be a wyvern that the prince called. Though Raigh was aware some men took to the skies atop pegasi at this school, it still wasn't very common practice in Fódlan from what he'd researched, and here was a huge one looking at him right now.

“ ...It's fine. The aggressive ones aren't usually the mounts but the soldiers riding them anyway. ”

It's not as if flocks of wyverns were the ones who attacked and killed villagers. It was the so-called knights who commanded them— the ones who used such creatures like any other weapon or tool of war.

Though tense, Raigh nodded and tried to be as agreeable as possible for once as he grabbed three nearby buckets ( hey, if someone wanted to use them, they should've already taken them for themselves ) and began to levitate them using magic.

“ I'm prepared. Just make sure your wyvern doesn't toss me off. ”  Though Dimitri tried to assuage Raigh's concerns, he prepared himself to have to perform even beyond expected.  “ After you, princeling. ”

[helleonne]

fool me twice

radiantpriamos​:

“Thanks.”

Priam was grateful for the healing, but Raigh paid for it instantly. Though it seemed a cocky thing to do right after having a wound closed, he dived in front of Raigh to try and shield him. Priam shouted and swung Ragnell at the thieves, most of whom backed off for a few moments without Priam landing so much as a papercut on them.

“Whatever you have to do… do it.”

    As Priam goes to help shield him, Raigh sets to work immediately beginning his next incantation. Dark magic took time, being the school of magic that was always the slowest, but there was a reason it still held a place in the trinity. Blades meet and fly back, Raigh in his own little bubble until he reaches his hand out.

“ Die already. ”

A tremendous wave of deep blues and violets burst from Raigh's small frame like a roaring fire before launching itself at the group of thieves. They grip the gang, sucking out the life force from them before the lot of them drop to the ground no better than discarded dolls save for the way they still drew breath. The dark magic sinks to the earth with them like sludge before returning to Raigh as he punctuates the scene with the loud clapping of his tome's hard cover being shut tight.

“ There. ”  Raigh deposits the tome back in its holster before turning back to Priam.  “ I don't care what you do with these fools, but I'd like to figure out a way to bring back all the supplies before sundown. ”

[radiantpriamos]

helleonne​:

Best of Friends [Raigh & Priam]

   “ No, don’t even bother painting it. You’ll just be wasting your time, ”  Raigh immediately tries to cut in. Gifts with time spent on them like that should be going to people who he cares about.. not some random scornful loner of a teen the church had decided would be a perfect recipient.

What does the Church know about love and bonds? Forcing such things… they never worked. Raigh would decide who he cared about, and he would devote all his time to them. He didn’t need distractions like this.

And neither did Priam, he had decided.  

“ Ugh..! Why’d you have to remind me?! ”  Raigh cries out when Priam oh so graciously volunteers himself for Raigh’s task in turn. It’s true that he needed to do something as well, but the task itself…

“ J-Just stand there, okay? If you move a limb, I’ll kill you, y-you got it?! ”  Working up past his sense of shame, Raigh sucked in a deep breath before he stepped forward and…

…hugged Priam. He wraps his arms around the taller man’s waist, and he even holds it for a while, but it is far from affectionate— a hard task to achieve when the shaman’s eyes were roaming around their surroundings with a glare icy enough to freeze a person’s blood on sight.

It stays that way until Raigh’s eyes finally land on something, squinting. It is then that Raigh takes a step back and frees his hand, allowing him to do what he does best: cast a wave of dark magic. He aims it towards the precise point he’s been scrutinizing before. As the globs of darkness breach the bushes, a shrill yelp pierces the air as a member of the Knights of Seiros leaps up and starts to try and beat the spell away with their blade.

“ Beat it already! ”  Raigh flings another spell, relentless in his pursuit against their eavesdropper.  “ I did your mission already, didn’t I? ”

And so, understanding the implication, the knight scrams as Raigh keeps doing so, only ceasing his spellcasting once the swordsman was completely out of sight and earshot.

“ Tch. Unbelievable. ”

His frog wasn’t worth being painted? Ha, fine. As he’d said, Priam preferred it plain. Closer to nature, in a sense.

Priam thought he was being helpful in showing good teamwork. Did Raigh not want whatever task it was? Priam braced himself, clueless. Raigh’s look of disgust and combination thread/command to hold still had him baffled. Maybe his task was to wait until a bug landed on Priam so he could swat it. Priam supposed he’d have to stand still for that.

“Okay…” He stood stock still.

Raigh hugged him.

Priam stayed still, although he only barely kept still, grinning over Raigh’s head without so much of a hitch in his breathing. This was what was bothering Raigh so much?

Before he had any time to comment, Raigh spotted a knight near them and flung spell after spell at them in an exceptionally foul mood.

Priam let him go, hand running through his hair.

“He sure is a strange boy.”

[helleonne]

                                                                                     — the end.

[helleonne]

FEBRUARY ACTIVITY CHECK

Status: Passed Skill Points Gained: 1

Activity Check - Any +1 ➜ allocated to Reason +1

Skill Changes:

Reason - C ➜ C ( ½ )

[helleonne]

reverse polymorphing

mjolnrr​:

To progress her studies in the school of Faith, Ishtar’s professor assigns her to rotations in the infirmary to experience Faith’s more practical applications.

       Despite the tall assignment, Ishtar doesn’t find herself very busy. There are no major injuries to attend to, given the peacetime, and any injured that do come into the infirmary are immediately taken into the care of the fussy Head Nurse. More menial tasks fall to Ishtar instead, such as stacking bandages or counting salves. Every time Ishtar had stepped forward to help with a patient, the nurse would push her aside, fretting about besmirching Ishtar’s eyes with the horrors of the sick. 

      Ishtar quickly discovers there is no point in protesting, and whiles away the time dreaming of other things to do. A self-proclaimed alchemist has made their way into Garreg Mach, proclaiming that they have discovered a new school of magic. Curiosity burns in Ishtar’s chest, and she longs to slip down to the lecture hall and see what all the fuss is about.

      Someone had already been injured during these demonstrations, and a familiar face is hauled up to the hospital wing. Ishtar cranes her neck from behind a stack of bandages to see the Head Nurse positively smothering Raigh, sporting a nasty burn on his arm, with concern. She hovers over him for the rest of the day, right until the moon begins to rise. Before the Nuse turns in for the night, she sternly instructs Ishtar to keep a keen eye on Raigh, for it seems the latter has made frequent attempts to escape back downstairs.

      Ishtar decides to make one last round through the infirmary, checking the beds, before she herself sleeps for the night. All seems as it should be, but the moment she opens the door to Raigh’s ward she immediately recoils as she is met with a dark, foul smelling gas: a miasma spell. Her hand flies to her face, covering her nose and mouth as she peers through the mist. 

      Who — an intruder?!

      Blindly, she casts: a large hand shimmers into existence and swipes about in the room, knocking various items over in its search of her assailant.

     It's a spell he doesn't recognize that gets launched in retaliation. Had that nurse known things other than faith magic? It's not a question he can focus on too much, for there was now a new nonhuman element to dodge and react to. Surprises could be intriguing, but this one was just a nuisance.

He barely jumps back out of the hand's trajectory, landing on the floor on his back as he tries to duck underneath its arc. He unfortunately lands slightly on his left, applying unwanted pressure against his burns as it makes contact against the infirmary's cold ground, and he tries — though fails — to stifle the hiss of pain that makes its way through clenched teeth.

Not to mention the rattling of poultices, shelves, and beds all tumbling down in a big racket. The infirmary is a damn mess, and it's a good thing he was the only one who was a patient there today.

“ ...Fine, I get your point. You didn't have to trap me in here though, ”  he grumbles, calling out as his screen of miasma finally dissipates to reveal the full state of things. There at the door stands not the Head Nurse but rather the Goddess of Thunder herself, someone he recognized from their mission in Enbarr.  “ ...Not that I get why you did it. ”

[helleonne]

Tower of Doom and Desire

kingofwhitedunes​:

Fuck, Joshua thought. He knew it was a warning shot—he hadn’t needed to attempt a dodge, let alone succeed—but he wouldn’t stop his immediate reaction. There was no such thing as being too careful…or too violently self-defensive. In a single motion, his coin disappeared before a wicked sword appeared in its place; the body of the Killing Edge didn’t reflect any moonlight, as only one sword from Jehanna was permitted to lead through the night, but its razor-sharp edge was bright with prospective ill intentions. From the way it was able to shine in the night, he knew it lit up his face a little more.

His gaze lingered on the direction the dark magic came from, eyes narrowing in a hard expression that suited a natural reaction to that exposure. He knew that in Fodlan, very little distinction was made between black or dark magic, but a life spent on the battlefield had taught him what most practitioners of traditionally “forbidden” arts were like. Still…they’d been given as good a chance to ambush him as they’d get, and refrained. That had to mean something when it came to this place, filled with people from all over their world. Still on guard, he resolved not to pursue violence unless his mysterious visitor struck out again.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who decided to investigate,” Joshua said after a few moments. “Care to come out? I won’t attack if you don’t.” He left out the obligate “again.” Scanning the rest of his surroundings, he finally took his eyes off of the onlooker’s position. Even so, the Killing Edge remained within his grasp.

If there was something prowling around, he’d feel better with a weapon in his hand.

( @helleonne​ )

    “ ...Interesting choice of words. ”  Raigh finally allows himself to reveal his voice but he doesn't make the effort to close the gap— not when he heard a weapon get brought out, supported further by the word ‘attack.’ He instead uses another charge of Nosferatu, keeping it suspended above the palm of his hand and allowing its ethereal light to illuminate their little place here, green hair and blue eyes clearer in the darkness.

It also didn't hurt to be prepared in case the other person's claim turned out to be a lie and Raigh needed to actually carve an escape route.

“ Alright, fellow investigator. I'll play nice. ”  Still, Raigh remained wary of the other's intentions. Though he wasn't talking like a knight here to dole out punishment to trespassing students, there was still something...  “ I don't suppose you're expecting ghosts if you come armed though. Unless ghosts are more tangible than the rumors make them out to be. ”