soul of the endless.

frankly, i just want to survive. / cahara the mercenary, from fear & hunger, by vlad. isola-affiliated.

[mutedaggression]

permanent plotting / relationship call.

consider this an open invitation to make friends with the man with the plans. by liking this post, you tell me that you don't mind if i:

approach you with plot ideas whenever they strike me.

are open to having asks about your character sent at any time.

want to write with me with the intention of actually making a long term relationship (good or bad!) with cahara.

it also allows you the same courtesy in return for me - liking this means my door is generally open to you to talk about rp ideas. come on, let's build a world together.

cahara is quick to make allies when he can, but is also just as quick to cut and run if he thinks it benefits him. did you hire him to hunt a beastie for you? maybe to find a person? did he take your potions out of your pocket as soon as you walked out of a prison where you saved him? (that might just be enki.)

looking to make friends or enemies. he's just as kissable as he is killable.

[mutedaggression]

"Oh, yeah, it is that time of year."

The beginning of the season of the Endless Soul. Coincidentally, it was the season he was born in too.

[comicsofeden]

You feel a bit rested, even though you had troubling dreams...

[mutedaggression]

The soul stone feels heavy in his hands again. The loop on the top of it has been broken, but it wouldn't be hard to find a jeweler to repair it and let him hang it around his neck again.

He rolls it between his hands, feeling the influence of it through his body again, and a blink of his eyes find the familiar cross-cut of the soul's strange pupils in his eyes again.

Ah, that was more like it.

"There we go."

[lanshiang-a]

Did she like to sing?

"I used to sing sitting beside a pearl piano with red interior, in a lounge full of people with money, and militant officials. It was an expectation, not actually a like."

She's not really sure she liked it. But she was good at it. It's how she charmed Legato in the first place.

"But, you wanna hear exactly what I can do, stick around."

[mutedaggression]

Ah, that sounds about right for what he knows of her history. He gives a playful hum as he leans back against the wall again to watch her.

"Well, maybe it'll become a like at this rate. Always nice to find some joy in things that used to annoy you."

"I'm always right behind you, so of course I want to hear what you can do. I think Candy'll be delighted to hear it too."

[lanshiang-a]

She got sung to a couple nights ago.

Well. She can't leave that well enough alone.

"Cahara, go get me one of those over-the-ear mics we've got. It's Laundry Day anyways, with all the new hires, pool maintenance here, and otherwise."

[mutedaggression]

"Got to you that much, huh?"

He obliges her request without too much poking and prodding. He thinks it's funny, actually, that she's this competitive.

"I didn't know you liked to sing very much. It's pretty charming."

[stozkpile]

"Not being mentioned tells a story too." - orange~

[stozkpile]

Caharathing

[dishonoredknife]

"Whale meat... is a little like oxen, if the meat had a douse of fish oil and a bit of liver."

It wasn't really comparable to anything else. It wasn't a bad taste either- but Daud had spent his life eating it, especially with canning bringing the bounty of the sea further inland in some of the landlocked places he'd stayed.

He eats his rations and folds his cloth over, reexamining the prints on the ground. They had a few options available to them, and keeping to the wall to go forward sounded a better option than backtracking.

"Sure, we can try hugging the wall first, see if that hypnotic feeling goes away or not. There's not many options else."

Daud rests his elbow on a raised knee, contemplating the discussion of magic and the restlessness in this place. How there were some people that just had a gift for it, and places without magic at all.

"Where I'm from, there's witches, the Marked, and people who just stumble on artifacts to use the Void. Magic's more of an intuitive thing, and shaped like the person using it."

It was the best kind of description he could offer.

"There's nothing methodical about magic where I'm from. Probably because it's all chaos, and everyone's got a different idea about what it is."

He folds his arms and closes his eyes to rest them.

@lanshiang -> @mutedaggression

[lanshiang-a]

"No magic exists where I'm from. At all."

She said it with a bit of a snap, the wound on her arm aching in a foreign way. It should have healed by now, but she felt the open deep tissues strain against the cotton bandage as she finished the food she was eating. Her rations were packed up, and collected into their cloth, and she returned them to her bag to re-evaluate the dark path ahead of them, and the infinite path behind. Stepping in the footsteps was the wrong choice.

The magnetic feeling on her skin was still there, buzzing- translocation. Magic. More magic. They were so vulnerable- she was so vulnerable to magic. Mordenkainen had proven that- with effortless incantations he'd changed essential things about her that strained her being. Without effort, monsters she had fought and won against could twist her to whatever shape they liked.

She needed this unknowable force to protect her, not to harm her.

Ada stared beyond them, in their dark little camp, at the further end of a dead space. Time passed and she was quiet for the rest, not really knowing how much time passed before there were... noises in the dark.

At least, she thought there were, shuffling, shifting noises.

Ada rose, quietly, not disturbing either of her companions, and squinted into the endless pitch.

No. Nothing there.

"Get up. We've stayed here long enough."

@mutedaggression -> @dishonoredknife

[mutedaggression]

Magic didn't exist in the space she was from. Cahara tries to think of a world where the influence of the Old Gods wasn't evident in every single aspect of life and finds himself coming up empty on the imagery. He had grown up with little effigies to the gods in the windows of homes, seen them sold by legitimate craftsmen and swindlers on the same street corners, and had borne witness to the forms of their left behind aspects in the dark halls of a dungeon that led to an ancient city.

Ada stands, rations packed, and Cahara considers the aching of the bites on his limbs. It makes him feel heavy, slower than ever, and he can't shake the reminders of the dungeon as he picks his things back up and moves to the head of their little party.

The advice to not fall into the footprints is easier said than done, but they manage to keep their wits about them as they carry themselves to the end of the hallway - an end that actually came into view finally! Besides the door that would take them to their next space, there was a small pedestal bearing an adventurer's boots, embroidered with a spiderweb pattern in soft silk.

"Hey, I think that worked."

There was something distinctly magical about the boots, which he hands to the others to examine before he looks at the door ahead. It was the same as every other and opened into the void like the others they had found. Stepping through would send them to another disconnected space in this dungeon.

The space waiting for them is distinctly serene compared to the dark and dangerous hall: a room made of stone bricks, empty but a scattering of stone tablets and a puzzle waiting to be filled.

There was a sweet, sugary smell in the air, hanging overhead like a strange threat if they should fail.

@dishonoredknife, @lanshiang

[lanshiang-a]

a conversation

drawn from a ref from the little room builder.

@mutedaggression, @deeperthicket, @astrallithid, @dishonoredknife

[duweko]

skulls were the most fun(for some unknown reason!!) part to draw

[mutedaggression]

"That chair may be cursed."

"I know. It's kind of why I want it."

He knows playing with dangerous magic makes Enki so, so mad, but it's really fun.

[lanshiang-a]

The obstacle tonight wasn't the infection. By all rights, her values were within range to not be communicable, particularly on her prophylactics. It was the fever of those climbing values. At her most infectious, she had been completely functional, if starving, and even at her most infectious, she wasn't able to truly turn someone.

So, something changed. The fever was absolutely vicious, and despite her functionally present, her body was throwing a tantrum. Delirium wasn't exactly where she'd put herself on the scale of out of body and reality, but it was close.

"Just take me outside," she muttered. Cahara tucked her hair back, drawing her glassy eyes to him. Daud and her attempts to put some kind of barrier between the internal furnace heat and the night were futile. She burned faster than they could actually stop it with little cloths.

Cahara stepped out to cross check their paths.

"It's freezing. No risk of spreading to other people, so there's no real reason to leave yet."

And they were close enough to the water to dip their toes in. Maybe just walk into it.

"Come on," she murmured, collecting Daud's sleeve in her hand to tug away from the cup and water and redirecting him to the back door exit of their venue with a point. Inside the party was in full swing, and she caught Cahara's jacket at the fringe as he blocked view of her on the way out, to tug him in her direction.

Ada walked steadily, and slowly, having to think about it, sliding the back door of the place open for a cool wind that felt like it added years to her life, or at least, a little clarity to her fevered brain. The view of the beach was lit with tables, umbrellas, and a spattering of people, none in the water and all bundled up as much as they could be.

She took a look at the black water and without announcing it, made her slow way down the wooden stairs of the venue to walk towards it.

"Something changed."

She said it more to herself, plucking her earpiece out and pulling the jacket off her back. She kicked off her shoes into the sand, and threw the jacket on top of it. Without any further instructions, she walked into the water, and the water began to steam from the sudden temperature change.

[dishonoredknife]

Ada took them both in hand, pulling them out of the venue and into the dark beach front, where dim lights punctuated the divots of old footprints in the sand. Gold dashes flickered atop the black water from the overhead lamps and city lights around them. She broke from them to remove a few items and headed straight in, steam breaking from her skin as soon as she stepped in. Daud frowned, looking at the other patrons along the beach- all bundled up together and sitting at tables, paying no mind to their private corner. He glanced the other direction, and read signs posted to the retaining wall.

NO LIFEGUARD ON DUTY. SWIM AT OWN RISK. He took his vest off, and earbud out, placing both in the sand next to Ada's items, and tossed his phone atop it as well.

"I'll go in with her," he says, "Know how to swim?"

He asked, genuinely unsure how much swimming experience a desert mercenary would have.

He stepped in the water after her, breath hitching at the temperature- especially once the waterline hit waist deep, and noticing with more clarity the fog from his breath. By the Void, this wasn't ideal, but he'd been through worse. He fought through discomfort with more steps after her.

"I'm here with you," he says as he approached her, wading out to touch at her shoulder- hot to his own skin.

@mutedaggression -> @lanshiang

[mutedaggression]

He slips in behind them once the right people know that the Madame and her guardians were stepping out of the venue. If there was trouble, they would only be bothered if only they could handle it.

She catches his jacket and he offers his arm to her once he's at her side, letting her press close to him and feeling the feverish heat of her sinking into his skin. It's nice against the December cold, even if it's contending with the worry in his chest.

The beach isn't far and the sand under his boots doesn't bother him very much at all. She separates from them to start shedding layers and Daud asks if he knows how to swim.

"Not particularly well, no." He does bend down to unlace his boots and roll his pant legs up. "I can wade in the water fine as long as I don't walk too deep, though."

It's far too cold for them to be doing this. He and Daud wouldn't be able to spend too long out here without some risk to their health, but they wouldn't let Ada suffer too long.

When the water washes over his feet, he jolts, nearly jumping back.

"Sweet Mother Sylvian, that's cold."

He huffs a laugh, wading out to his knees to stand near them, watching the water hiss around Ada.

"Must feel nice to you, though."

@lanshiang, @dishonoredknife

[lanshiang-a]

She is constantly dabbing her face and neck with a cloth. Luckily, she wore black, the most forgiving color to sweat bullets through. It's not immediately obvious that she's boiling alive while socializing.

@dishonoredknife / @mutedaggression

[dishonoredknife]

The festivities continued around them, Ada only halfway paying attention to the goings-on around them. Cards from the auctions being run back and forth in silent bidding wars, and relaxed snacking from attendees. Daud had placed one bid out of curiosity- and had his card returned to him by one of the runners. He wouldn't bother with reapplying his bid, not when Ada seemed to be in such a bad state. She was practically burning a hole through the cloth of his shirt, radiating heat while she tried futilely to cool herself with a damp cloth under the lights of the center. His own glass of water, he'd dabbed off the condensation to try to help- but all of it had been in vain. She needs to get out of this place and cool off. Daud quietly gestured to Cahara, who was also near and grunted, "Hey. We might need more than a few glasses for her fever. Any chance they can give us some ice?" Then he turned to Ada, "Are you sure you want to stay? It's hot in here already. We can step out for a bit."

@mutedaggression -> @lanshiang

[mutedaggression]

The party is going well, as well as everything Ada plans, and Cahara watches the attendant return Daud's card while his own is still out for the bid he'd placed. He's beckoned closer, drifting back to Daud and Ada's side.

Even without touching her, he can feel the warmth radiating from her, the heat that says her fever has reached a new pitch.

"I can see about getting some ice for us. Meet you at the door? I'll make the rounds, make sure everything's under control."

He'd have Enki keep an eye on his bid and the prize he'd had his eyes on, his gaze drifting to Ada before reaching out to tuck her hair back.

"Let's get some fresh air, yeah? I'll be right on your heels."

He tips his head to Daud before he steps back out of their space, moving without being asked to take up the task of making sure the space was cared for while the Madame steps away.

@lanshiang, @dishonoredknife

[mutedaggression]

From the Feast Staff:

You have been designated the Jack of Hearts (Spider) as your bidding card. (To bid on an object, DM @lanshiang with your bid and your card. Here is the list of artwork and current bidders.)

Enjoy your Feast.

He's already expecting the card, but he's not anticipating it to have an additional little seal on it. His thumb caresses the spider embossed in an invisible ink and tucks the card into the coat he's wearing.

Alright. Time to cause problems.

[mutedaggression]

🪨 What’s the hardest choice they’ve ever made?

going back to the dungeon. it had been the one thing he swore he would never do, not in a hundred or a thousand years. there were things in that place that still lived behind his eyelids when he slept, that still do even now, but going back had been something he swore he would never, ever do again.

except the girl had to go back. he had pacted nilvan with a final request: take the girl to the depths to face her fate.

so, they went back, a journey much less treacherous since the dungeon had fallen and enki had made the library his home. it was the last time they had seen each other, the girl's hand in cahara's own, before they wandered into the darkness.

whatever happened down there was only known to what remained of the girl and cahara. sometimes, an absence tells its own story.

hc asks.

[mutedaggression]

what kind of weather matches their soul?

lazy days spent under a summer sky, the heat broken by the clouds rolling above. it's the kind of weather you could only dream about, that exists only in old paintings and idyllic descriptions of the perfect spot to rest. the soul of the endless is the plaything of dreams, and it's the kind of place Cahara really only thinks exists outside of the stifling heat of the Eastern Sanctuaries.

hc asks.