the stairs

"Rhys". Soren. Journeyman.

[freydis-freydat]

“I do think one should always hold a special sort of appreciation for a man who knows better than to climax too early,” Freydis commented as she regarded his easy smile from the corner of her eye, a thin shadow of a smirk on her own lips. She became more comfortable on the sofa they shared, sitting side by side once he pulled himself upright. “You are indeed the neediest, greediest, hedonist in all of the Queenset Isles, aren’t you?” she commented, a hand sifting through his curls before gripping them and tilting his chin upward and out of the palm of his hand before she pressed a kiss to his lips. 

Freydis merely let out a soft huff when he mentioned he wasn’t seeking out opportunities to play in the Queen’s presence. Freydis had developed a rather soured opinion of the monarch after the Winter’s Ball and the lack of aid afforded to Aventia, even if it had been prudent to save resources. Allowing Marinus Bay to keep its doors locked from refugees in the aftermath had sealed Freydis’ unfavorable opinion. “I had it commissioned,” she answered in the time it took for him to lift the lid and the ribbon that had been securing it a moment before to fall away. Within, under only a thin layer of tissue was a new lute. This one, carved of the finest wood money could buy, had an ornate front that depicted a swirling night sky composed entirely of chipped sapphires of varying depths of blue. Further, the motif of the cycle of a moon was inlaid in carved opals and gold filigree reflected back the light of the room in intricate patterns across the body of the lute. “It was meant to be a gift when you became a Maestro. The more I got to know you, the more I requested changes to the original design, and then, when we got back, I figured… just give it to you now. Why wait?” 

Her hand found the place just above his knee, resting there with what was likely an increasingly familiar weight. “I didn’t understand how much the lute you have now meant to you when I commissioned this to be made,” she explained. “I don’t expect you to replace it with this–I don’t even expect you to perform with it if that isn’t what you’d like. It's for you to use. Or not. Whatever you’d like.”

[rhysxvuldak]

"All my years of practice have come to fruition just for you." Soren knew they were partially joking, but he meant more in his innuendo than anything else. It was true, it all had to be good for something. "Yes...but I'm your neediest, greediest, so on and so forth." He grinned through the kiss, the Vuldak bumping their noses together. This was ridiculously disgustingly romantic, but he found himself staying exactly where she pulled him, in each and every direction.

The lute was beautifully carved, intricate with details that Freydis had clearly picked out herself. It was new and improved upon his old one, the sapphires and the moon that were added in a nice touch to show that Freydis seemingly listened to all the shit that managed to leave his mouth. Soren held it up so the light could reflect properly, letting his fingers skim over the strings so it could play a simple few notes. It was beautiful, and he could recognize the care and recognition that went into it. He hummed after a minute, realizing he'd gone quiet in the aftermath of Freydis' explanation. His old one was nearby, as it always was, a sentiment of who he currently was. The one in his hand seemed to imagine another Soren, someone who deserved such a gift bestowed upon him. "It's beautiful, Frey. Thanks." He felt overcome with emotion, unable to really explain his thoughts in a timely manner that showed he wasn't just fobbing off her gesture. He did snap out of it rather quickly; the perks of performance. "I have a song for you. I'll tune this – it'll be fitting for the first one." Perhaps the only one – he wasn't sure he wished to play it in front of anyone but Freydis, the only one worthy of it all.

He pulled the lute closer, strumming it a few times to tune before he looked Freydis once more in the eyes. He began a version of the Lover's Before, the song she'd found dreadfully romantic once – but with a twist. He'd made a version that he'd wanted just for her, words that he pulled through and carried the song on. It went on for a bit, before he strummed the last few notes, letting the quiet settle on them again. "I think this lute works just fine, yeah?"

[alessiathepath]

Date: Iskaldrik is saved Location: Iskaldrik, wherever Rhys is currently Characters: @rhysxvuldak & @alessiathepath Notes: I guess she owes him a life debt now

"You're the pretty skald that caught the eye of a world-famous shieldmaiden Jarl?" It was said with light distaste. Much to Alessia's chagrin, Rhys was indeed some level of conventionally attractive, enough that it could be somewhat understood why he would send Freydis' hormones all a-tizzy. His bravery and music was good in battle too. It could not be said that her dear friend had absolutely no taste, but Alessia still held a hint of contempt she could not help herself of. Was anyone really worthy of Freydis?

But there was more to consider too. Alessia could not, and would not, forget when there was an extreme service done to her or to her family. If she focused too hard on the memory of Alrik nearly lifeless on the floor of a battleground, she could feel the shudders coming on like cold fingers trailing down her back. "Actually that's not why I'm here." Of course. It very like her to start a conversation with a subtle jab, when that was the opposite of what she had meant in coming to see someone. "Or it's just a part of it. I give credit where credit is due... You're not a warrior. You didn't have to fight for this country, but you did. And you fought well."

[rhysxvuldak]

If there was one thing that Rhys was good at, it was matching energy. While he knew that plenty played coy, or beat around the bush, there were others who were direct – and as a bard, he was always thrilled at the idea of navigating someone. Studying how the world worked included those within it – and Alessia was no different. "So...you think I'm pretty." It wasn't a question – just a statement. She'd said it, and he wouldn't exactly let that go. The Vuldak gave her another smirk, though he waited for her to finish speaking again. It wasn't the jab she perhaps thought it was – he was too conceited for that.

The battle was hard fought, and the afterglow wasn't exactly a huge celebration. Too much uncertainty surrounded Iskaldrik; what would happen with the crown, with all the lands – so much damage done by a country that some didn't think deserved to be saved. "I sure as hell didn't, but here we both are. I did it for Freydis. And for the great songs I'll get to write about it all." He was only partially lying, at least, but he knew Alessia cared for Freydis, and vice versa, so the Vuldak simply gave a flourish of a bow, "Thank you, Alessia. You didn't do so bad yourself. Next time, try not to nap when the moment matters, yeah?" He grinned, thinking about how they both managed to take a turn for the worst.

[freydis-freydat]

There were still plenty of places in the manor that Freydis had not explored. Soren did not need to explain to her which wings of the sprawling home housed skeletons within their closets and which ones were unmarred by bloodshed. Violence that dismantled brotherhoods was enough to fray the fabric of the veil, something palpable to Freydis’ tether to magic and spell scar. If Soren wished for her to know more than he had disclosed, it would come on his time and his terms. Compelled to fix things, and meddling from time to time, Freydis chose not to pry. It wasn’t what they were there for anyway.  “Maybe so. But couldn’t it garner you some favor and social capital in the game if you were the voice and witness of the battle that finally sent the ilk of Iskaldrik back to their homeland?” she asked. She had assumed, perhaps naively, that Soren’s ability to deliver a firsthand account of the battle against the felled god Toth would gain him some advantages in the Game. “Again?” she asked, her brows lifting. “From anyone interesting, do you think?” she asked, leaning in as if they were two friends gossiping in the most conspiratorial fashion. “Well… It is up to you whether you play in a dive tavern or for the Queen herself, and you’ll have another choice to make for your performances with this now.” She transferred the box she had been holding from her own lap to his.

[rhysxvuldak]

Soren gave a small smile, "Yes, I think my capital has gained. Plenty enough with the few songs I've sung already. But I can't show all my cards immediately." The bard knew someone else might sing a song, mention it from another source, but he'd been there. And that was enough to allow plenty to wait for him to say something first. He sat up slightly when Freydis motioned to what was on her lap. "No one nearly interesting enough to even look into. Lots of sons and daughters of nobles of the other isles, but none of them big enough to manhandle me the way I want." He grinned at his joke, putting his chin in his hand.

"Dive taverns are the hottest places; I don't think I'd wish to see the Queen any time soon. Maybe she'd enjoy a little tavern jig more than she lets on." He didn't dream that big. Queens would come and go, but it was the little people, the nobodies, that carried on the tales of those who were somebody. Taking the box, Soren hummed, "And where did you get this?" he prompted, opening the box to see what he was given.

[freydis-freydat]

who: @rhysxvuldak where: Minetia when: upon return from Iskaldrik notes: sing us a song, you're the vuldak man, sing us a song tonight!

This place is as much a haven for me as it can be for you.

Soren had said this to Freydis of the manor on the island he was Lord of the last time they were there. After all that had happened in Iskaldrik, she was glad to be in this shared Haven of theirs, even with the shadows that lurked in some of its corners. Both of them knew this would be a brief stay with so much business to attend to in both of their names, but she would enjoy the moments they had in the privacy of one another’s company regardless. 

She felt heavier since watching life drain from his form on the battlefield, a grim reminder that nothing was promised in this life, including time. Thus, she chose not to prolong something that had long been on her mind. Freydis found Soren in one of the sun drenched rooms–a drawing room, apparently, but it seemed better suited for music and was littered with books that the bard had selected for her, and a few tomes she had secured for him to read. She sat beside him, and in her lap she placed a box too large to necessarily fit on her lap but not unwieldy either. “You know, all of Lysara will be fighting one another to hear the songs you’ll have to sing now that you’re home,” she commented. “And throwing punches for a chance at gazing upon your face.” 

[rhysxvuldak]

The haven that was Minetia was a luxury that Soren didn't let himself enjoy as frequently as he perhaps should have. The isle itself was a reminder of his past, a living sentiment of all his lies, but he had an uncanny way of ignoring those – something about how his remorse was so little, it couldn't be encompassed within the walls. Still, he and Freydis had this place to themselves, no one truly needed to bother the families of the isles, unless to invite them to court – Winter would be upon them soon.

Still, the room itself was perfect for the two to lounge, books, papers, and all things scattered amongst it. Soren had taken the time to write down some of the lyrics that he had yet to decide upon, but most of his work lived within his head – something about writing things down when he was going to die and not a moment sooner. "I think you severely underestimate me," he gave a small smile, looking at Freydis now. "I like to go places where no one recognizes me. That's how a song haunts you for days, a tune you can't get out of your head. That's how I like to torture this world. But in Court? Absolutely. I might get many marriage proposals again."

[freydis-freydat]

“Maybe… not for them,” she admitted, “except Torsten–who has vowed that the abduction of children and how Witchers were made will not continue.” Soren was right about the Princess and when it came to Afshin–it had been so long since Freydis saw him it was difficult to quantify how much faith she had in him. “It isn’t up to me who takes the helm at the end of the day regardless,” she reminded Soren. “Why? Are you looking to expand your reach beyond Minetia? I’ll put in a good word for you.” She suspected Soren was every bit as averse to ruling some new Iskaldrik as she was. “I do not want to see Iskaldrik reclaimed because of the kingdom it was, but because of the wider impact on the world of forces and landmarks within its geography.” The crumbling of Orhan’s rule was something she could not bring herself to shed a tear for. 

She waited for Soren to continue. “It’s not terrible, but what?”  “Not the entire rest of the world,” she muttered beneath her breath thinking of one dragon in particular. She looked at Soren after a moment. “I have seen many Iskarans experience this… terrible metanoia when we have been forced to look at what we have done. Myself included. And I fight out of the sheer hope that over time I can make up for even a fraction of the harm I was complicit in. But the Atheron… they stole the dragons from their home and it has destroyed the most vital forces in this world, empowering Lusacon, and I have witnessed them find their liberated dragons, only to attempt to subjugate them again to bolster their destructive power. My faith in some neo-Iskaldrik may not be strong, but it’s stronger than my faith in the Aetheron.” She let out a deep sigh, not in annoyance of Soren or him challenging her logic, but the weight of her conscience. “When I gained my spell scar, I was part of–I didn’t mean to, but I contributed to something terrible: the destruction of one of the binds keeping the Dark One at bay. And now my fight is redoubled to stop Him, not to accumulate power for my own good. If I could come from such a corrupt system, make such a critical mistake, and work to try and right history, so can the Aethereons. But they don’t.” 

[rhysxvuldak]

A single Witcher, making a promise bigger than himself. It was the classic story, but Soren didn't know who Torsten was, or what promises the man said he could or could not keep, with resources against Aetherians he didn't have. "My reach? You flatter me, darling." The Vuldak remained impassioned by the plight of Iskaldrik. Of wanting the place back because of the landmarks within. "The world around Iskaldrik has survived for centuries without them. But if you think it'll make a difference, then I hope it does." At least that he could be truthful about – his hope only extended to Freydis, to her ability to care, and his inability to.

Aetheron was a stain upon this world, in a way. In another, they held power this world had forgotten. It seemed almost the same as reclaiming Iskaldrik. Her admittance was another thing that perhaps he could never understand, no greater calling pulled Soren forward. He was just one of the many, another pawn in a game that was bigger than the one he was used to controlling. "The battles against the wills of the many. I just don't think it'll end." Too many things that only intertwined slightly, but he knew Freydis wouldn't be swayed. "We've checked the border, yeah? Let's head back."

[freydis-freydat]

Her hand gave Soren’s a brief squeeze in reaction to his comforting touch. Freydis hardly suspected him to love the idea of returning to whatever was left of the falling kingdom, so she couldn’t consider herself surprised by the sound that came from him. “For Afshin–Torsten, the Princess. I don’t know who it will be, but it will be someone. And no Aetherian,” she responded. She looked at him for a moment. “Yes. My parents are buried there. Hundreds of innocents who were not given the dignity of a proper burial litters the trail we used when we fled. Dead druidic standing stones. It’s worth it, and I want to see it wrenched back from the blood hands of the Aetherian. But I don’t want to stay once the fight is over,” Freydis admitted. Wherever the debate on whether or not she had truly been respected as a jarl landed, she had no interest in returning to lead. “Is that terrible of me?” 

“No. No truces,” she said tersely. Her mind was made up. “They ruined the world, not just Iskaldrik. They abducted dragons from Avalon, they unleashed a pandora’s box upon the world with their hubris. What they’ve done is beyond the consideration of a truce.” She sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly, “You know how much I hate the violence, the war. So I hope you might also know I won’t take up my sword for anything I find less than worthy, or necessary.”

[rhysxvuldak]

"For the monarchy that...perpetuated it? And she's not a princess, not anymore. The Legion is big on no titles, you know." He didn't know the prince, so he would defer to Freydis' judgement. Still – a people of violence, for a country that spent centuries doing it – Soren didn't understand her rose colored glasses. He gave her a strange look, like he was surprised at her desire for more death, for a country not worth a moment more of her time. "There are many who spent their time in the mines of Iskaldrik who would say the same thing, don't you think?" Soren shook his head at her question, "No, it's not terrible but – I don't know."

The Vuldak sighed now, listening to her discuss the various crimes of the Aetherians. Weighed against what Iskaldrik did, kidnapping children to become Witchers, sending families to the mines, ensuring prosecution and burning and death – "It doesn't sound like you do. It's like you want this fight, more than the rest of the world does."

[freydis-freydat]

“But only two fools these days,” Freydis returned, glancing around to see if there might have been more signs of traps. There were few, and even fewer signs of life so close to the ominous barrier. She supposed she understood–she wouldn’t want to live this close to it either. Her attention turned back to him when he smiled at her and she offered a soft smile back in kind, “Nearly gone by trap. I suppose I’ll have to keep working toward that parade.”

The edge of the two countries was a more somber affair. Nothing much thrived on the borderlands of Iskaldrik but the wilds themselves. Freydis had once supposed that the cover of thick growth was what lent to the success of so many refugees and smugglers traveling out or trafficking items in. She nodded in confirmation that Soren had understood her correctly earlier and silently wondered how much merit there was for winning back land where nothing could grow. But it was about more than the land, it was about principle. Dignity. Hope that whatever embers of Iskaldrik reignited, they would be better than what they had previously been. 

Her expression grew concerned when he mentioned darkness and by reflex she took his hand. “When the barrier comes down, I will go back to fight in the reclamation effort,” she told him, though she suspected this could have been just as understood between them if left unsaid, the same as her certainly the dome would come down eventually. “I won’t ask you to expose yourself to whatever darkness and danger waits within. But if you’ll go, too, I would be glad to fight at your side again.”

[rhysxvuldak]

Soren brushed his thumb over the back of her hand when she grabbed his, but her words made him scoff almost immediately. There was never a doubt about Soren's loyalty to Freydis, especially if she wished to fight for something important to her, but he found it hard to associate reclaiming Iskaldrik with priority on Freydis' list. "Reclamation effort? For who?" He didn't understand it, taking it as some funny play on words that the bard wasn't picking up. "You think it's worth the fight?"

The Vuldak also didn't know if the barrier would go down, but he wouldn't rain on that thought. Soren knew that the Aetherians had come into a time that wasn't theirs, but they had been here, before. "The amount of lives that would be lost in a battle against Aetheron – what about...a truce? They have magic, things that we've lost – of course they'd face a reckoning for what they did to Iskaldrik but...is another war what we all need?"

[freydis-freydat]

The idea of her looking like a ghost was generous for the state Freydis, and nearly every other Iskaran, had been in when they finally managed to cross the border into Lysara. Ghoulish was probably the more apt description. “Don’t you poets like that sort of thing?” she asked, giving him a sidelong glance. Her expression became playfully pointed when he accused her of being a romantic, “Only one of us writes love songs.” Though she would gladly write Soren countless verses in return if she possessed the skillset. The topic was soon forgotten. 

Only as her heart rate slowed and her breathing relaxed did she realize quite how close she had been to being impaled herself. The margin was slim, but luck had been on her side. There was little discernable about the rotting husk in front of her aside from that it had been a creature of darkness and the twisted expression of anguish was now permanently affixed upon the remains of its face. Freydis felt Soren pulling her back to safety from overhead, but her legs were still unsteady from fear and she merely sat at the edge of the pit as she allowed him to look her over until he was satisfied. “Who would even be this far out?” she muttered, looking at the death trap below her–it would have taken time to build, and time to grow back over with moss and tall grass as well. The borderlands had been considered uninhabitable for quite some time. “It wouldn’t be a very good trap if it was obvious, would it?” Freydis pointed out his advice, but a moment later she shook her head to signal she was fine, her hand lifting to cup his cheek for a brief moment despite his warning against paying too much attention to his face. 

The glimmering arcane barrier was not far ahead now, like a wall through the parting of trees not far over Soren’s shoulder. It would be dark soon–darker than either of them would be willing to risk venturing in the woods. Just enough time remained before the sun would sink behind some distant mountain or another for them to get a good look at the barrier. Freydis hauled herself to her feet and approached it with Soren, more careful now with her footfalls. “Do you think anything is left standing?” she asked. There wasn’t much to see at the barrier other than what one might mistake as a mirrored image of forest and grasslands, and muddled reflections of both of their rough forms in the glimmering surface of the barrier when one looked at just the right angle.

[rhysxvuldak]

"Many people. Many wolves." Soren figured Aurea would send people closer to the border, though the Legion had figured out a long time ago that the barrier dipped into the earth – below into the tunnels that the Darkspawn had created from the Spine. The Aetherians had thought of everything, it seemed. "I guess it wouldn't be. Yet still, here we are. The shieldmaiden, gone by trap. Might be worth the statue." He gave a small smile, trying to ease the situation before they approached the barrier once again.

Her question was thoughtful, but he wasn't entirely sure what he could assume. "You said they were blighted, didn't you? The Aetherians? I would think the Blight would be unchecked. The Legion pushed out...I don't know, Frey. All I know is the smell of death is strong. The feel of the darkness even moreso. And – whatever it is, it's not good."

[freydis-freydat]

It had been dangerous to disclose the mark of the Red Hand once. Before crossing the border, she had thought it might mean tumbling toward the certain death she had just avoided in the lair and facing down Munin. In Lysara, things had changed, but perhaps one of the slowest changes was her willingness to be recognized as one marked with a call from the ages old king of lore. Now, such information had been disclosed so many times and so widely it was impossible to deny. Freydis couldn’t quite bring herself to miss the stuffy, high collared garments she’d once worn to obscure it from sight either. “Oh? You would do that for me?” she asked, pretending to be endlessly flattered. But that could wait–there would be little use for clothing for the rest of the evening once they returned to the cabin after scouting. He was right, her skin was a deeper shade, her scattering of scars running through paler than the rest like the small fissures and fractals that formed in ice. “Why not? It seemed to captivate you well enough in Haven, didn’t it?” 

The walk was peaceful. Far more peaceful than she would have expected. Perhaps Soren’s status as undead spooked horses and unnerved the squirrels, but Freydis was complicit and calm in her trust of him. His company soothed her; his absence made her ache. The deeper they moved into the forest, the more the Veil Maiden would like to believe she understood him, and perhaps she did in some ways. She liked that plenty remained to be uncovered. “No, I have no idea,” she insisted as the sun retreated from its high point in the sky. The air cooled, slowly becoming heavier with condensation in the lower temperature. Shadows grew longer, and the brush at their feet grew ever denser and wilder as they drew close to the border. “You should be more responsible with your things.” 

A moment after she finished teasing her, there was a strange sort of sound underfoot like the snapping of a twig and shuttering of dense grass. And Freydis was gone. But not far. A trap was laid, though not intended for creatures like Freydis or Soren, and she plummeted several yards down into a pit that jolted her as she hit the bottom of it, an ache already forming. A sort of flare of shock had coursed through the bond the pair shared, but as she regained herself and tried to take in her surroundings another stronger wave of terror radiated through it. In the moment she fell her mind had replayed when she fell through the cornice on the spine with Torsten over a year ago, a venture that had put them face to face with a bereskarn. Here, Freydis was in close proximity to another dark spawn, its fangs bared and the smell of rot about it. It took her a moment to realize it had fallen into the trap far sooner than she had, many spikes impaling its body as its corpse rotting to the point she could not discern which blighted beast it was exactly in its final resting place only inches ahead of her. Slowly, her panic dissipated and her heart rate began to temper before she looked up toward the top of the pit.

[rhysxvuldak]

"Is that what you think? Captivated at first sight of a ghost? You're such a romantic. It's embarrassing." Soren grinned slightly, though he let the conversation ease out after she answered his question of the cape. Another thing maybe he'd get to see once in a blue moon, but the Vuldak didn't seem to mind. He'd like the scent of her to linger anyway.

One moment they were walking, and the next, Freydis was falling. Soren lurched forward, but he was also too late, the spikes nearly missing Freydis and instead keeping hold of the darkspawn that had been there – for many days, apparently. Long enough for the trap to have returned to its...hidden state. By someone, he supposed. Still, he searched her for a moment, gazing over her – and when he saw that she wasn't hurt, he let out the breath he was holding. "Fucking Hel, Freydis." He held his hand out, hauling her out of the pit and putting his hands on her shoulders before he finally let out a laugh, "Let's watch where we're going, yeah? And save looking at my face for later. Are you hurt?"

[freydis-freydat]

Silently, Freydis studied his face. She did not expect Soren to lie to her outright, but she did suspect he had it within him to downplay his discomfort and needs, to march straight through the threshold of his comfort zone without a second thought. She knew that she often did the same. But his agreement appeased her for the time being, and he had been steadfast in Aventia. Freydis trusted he knew his limits, she trusted him. 

“I could not have endured Aventia without you,” she responded, making her point more clear. It wasn’t her intention to argue with him–though she suspected they could easily pass hour after hour in heated debate–but rather to highlight that his presence had been equally instrumental as her own. And then, when she could not be there to defend Haven, he had been critical to allowing its monarch to press onward. “Oh, you’re my hero,” she swooned, but a moment later her tone changed entirely as she snatched her hand back and crossed her arms over her chest as if to protect her modesty. “I only show that to you,” she hissed back at him, though her mood was light. “I can go back to dressing like I’ve never seen the outside of a monastery if you wish?” she offered–she had spent so long hiding the marking, but not lately.  As they entered the wooded parts of Haven, the birdsong and chittering of animals more muted than usual given current events, she took on a slightly dreamy expression again as she glanced at him sidelong. “Oxford blue,” she suggested. “Like you wore to the palace.” His rich, blue cape still hung in her cabin. She would return it to him, still intended to return it to him. Eventually.

[rhysxvuldak]

Soren was fully aware that Freydis could definitely endure certain places without him, but he knew the meaning behind it all: she wouldn't have wanted to, perhaps. It was the same for the Vuldak, but the shieldmaiden always had a way of surviving. Soren just had the ability to cheat death.

He laughed when she snatched her hand back, though his mind was already in the gutter. It was far too late for him. "Well I'm the only one here. I'm sure the darkspawn wouldn't care if you show some chest and all that – I'll even take my shirt off if it makes you feel better." Soren hummed slightly, like he was unbothered when being chastised. "Oh? High necks, long sleeves, paired with some gloves? Darling, your skin is still sun-kissed from the isle, don't return to looking like you've only ever seen the sun reflected off the snow of Iskaldrik. Ghastly isn't in quite yet."

The silence of the woods was something he was used to – a predator amongst them, they always went silent when a Vuldak prowled too close. "I seem to have misplaced that cape. You wouldn't know what happened to it, would you?"

[freydis-freydat]

There was a quiet part of Freydis that yearned to argue It might, maybe it won’t always be this way. But she swallowed the urge to say such a thing. Not because she didn’t cling to hope that the Blight might be eradicated and the Dark One subdued so entirely that He relinquished any claim upon Soren’s soul, but rather because she did not want Soren to believe she looked down on him or devalued him for his circumstance. It was not his fault he had become a Vuldak, he had not asked for it. “Maybe not, but I don’t take it lightly asking you to bring yourself closer to it,” she explained quietly. Her hand lifted to reach for him, but she refrained from touching him unless he signaled he was open to the contact. “If something happen–if something is out there–and it becomes too much for you, you’ll tell me, right? And we’ll turn back.” 

Freydis chewed the inside of her cheek as Soren explained. “She might ask for you first,” she argued lightly. “She trusts you every bit as much as she trusts me, especially after the Arishok. And you didn’t sit on your laurels during Aventia, either,” she reminded Soren. There was a thin attempt to swallow her look of satisfaction that Soren would go with her, and in a moment they would step into the cabin to prepare themselves. But in the meantime, Freydis would half-insist and half-tease,, “That won’t stop me from imagining how handsome and valiant you would look protecting the streets of Haven in my absence, I’d hardly be about to wait to find my way back to see you cut the figure of a dashing hero.”

[rhysxvuldak]

The Vuldak slung his bow over his shoulder, looking back at Freydis before his eyes were fixed back on the barrier itself. "I'll tell ya, of course." He would decide what limit that was, however, when it came to it. For now, he didn't like to imagine what that could be – for fear that he would turn back sooner than he should. Gods, he hoped someone would write about him eventually – mention that he was stupid, brave, all for a hot piece of tail. Or something like that.

"I'm not here to argue who she's going to ask first. We can just take all of this with how we see it, Frey." He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before letting it drop between them. "Yeah yeah, shut up. I'm not a hero. You're the one walking around with the broadcasted red hand," his tone was light, "Hero this, hero that." Soren thought he could at least ease the situation that they found themselves in, but Freydis beat him to it. "You think? In my best outfit? Something purple? That deep shade I like and all that."

[freydis-freydat]

No matter what Soren believed, that it was useless to hope, Freydis did. And that would be enough for the bard. He wouldn't deny her that – with all the world took from them both, he wouldn't be the one to do anything but give her back what she had given. I would still choose you. "In every life, in every death."

Is it still your birthday? Happy birthday my dear Lolo! @eivorx @rhysxvuldak - Romance with Freydis

[freydis-freydat]

Bloody hands picked up a lute, the strings still played their tune, and Soren donned the name of his jailed brother, and stepped back out into the world. There was always a need for a part two.  As you once were blindIn the light now you can singIn our strength we can relyAnd history will not repeat.

Happy birthday to Lolo! @eivorx @rhysxvuldak - Backstory

[freydis-freydat]

The silence that fell over them for a few moments pulled Freydis’ gaze back to the glimmer of the barrier in the distance. But fixed as her gaze was on it, her eyes were far away from Soren and the border alike. The memories of the crypt-like Broodmother’s lair made the oxygen go stale in her lungs, her head reeled as it revisited flashes of memories that made her feel dizzy and her mouth go dry, and her hands shook at her sides if one looked close enough. Freydis was no great mind of their age, but she had been such a fool–one slain bereskarn and she assumed the delusional confidence that the world could be righted under the right sword and shield. She remembered survivors hollowed out by hungry and exhaustion, her own sunken eyes and sharp cheekbones in her ghastly reflection in the wastes. She had still looked like a shell of herself when she arrived in Haven and met–

Freydis returned from reality at the thought, now spared from her own reveries. She watched as his body language took on an air of annoyance, but she found his theatrics quite charming so she took no offence. She took in a deep breath when he first spoke again, steeling herself against the idea of parting from him again. Soren’s actual decision surprised her. 

“What?” she stammered initially, staring at him as if attempting to convince herself she had heard him correctly. She looked in the direction of the barrier and then toward the cabin, and finally back at Soren “Are you certain it’s a good idea to come with me?” she asked, her brows turning upward with concern. “I know when you’re closer to the Darkness it–” she trailed off. She knew he struggled, that the presence of Blight cornered him within his mind. Freydis would protect him in any way she could, wherever they were. She feared he might feel pressured. “If your inclination is to defend Haven, I would understand,” she said softly, though a slight flush reached her cheeks. “It would be very noble of you.”

[rhysxvuldak]

"It's not like it's going to go away, Frey," he shrugged his shoulders, thinking about how the Blight was always going to be a permanent feature in their lives. That was his fault – Soren carrying around the stench of death, forever in Freydis' shadow of doubt. It was a fact of life. The undead brought terror, and Soren could only push and pull along with the tide, or go against it as long as possible.

Soren shook his head, "No, but if the wolves have questions, or want to make sure you're okay, Aurea will ask for you, first. At any sight of what we just saw." Freydis preferred to leap forward with her shield with half the information, and Soren wouldn't risk his neck for a barrier. And he especially wouldn't risk Freydis'. "But if it will give you peace, then let's go. We can see what's happened."

[alieneen1]

Paul Mescal for Rolling Stone (2025)

[hardyscal]

[rhysxvuldak]

"Who wouldn't?" What if they've kept the blight away?" The Vuldak had to think critically about it – not his strong suit. He was much better at playing a tune. "What if those in Eterna want to flee the blight? It's a place literally ruled by magic. If you're a witch, you're going to be safe there, most likely. Unless they smite you, or...whatever it is Aetherians do. But...with the Blight such a scary story for everyone, maybe they'd rather risk their chance." Freydis had experienced a lair, and many wouldn't want that fate. Or survive it, even if they lived to tell the tale.

"What do you mean? Aurea, in Haven?" He reminded her after a moment, though perhaps her mind was occupied with something else. "Why? What are you thinking?"

[freydis-freydat]

Her posture changed as Soren answered. It became something that would be familiar from the demands leading at Aventia had demanded of her, something cross-armed and stubborn. “They haven’t. Not entirely, at least,” Freydis muttered as her head swiveled on her neck, unable to keep herself from gazing at the border for too long. “One of the Aetherians who led the charge is infected. It may be tempered within the barrier, but it isn’t absent.” She gazed back at him, her expression a mix of incredulous and shocked. “So, too, are the Feywilds, but the rot crept in there, too,” she reminded him. And it was no small task to cleanse the Standing Stones there either. 

Her eyes slid shut for a moment and she released a heavy sigh–not at Soren directly, but under the weight of memories dredged up from the flight from Iskaldrik. “We escaped to these borders with it on our heels, Soren. We’ve been saying what followed us since day one. It would be like–like a child crawling directly under their bed because they suspect there’s a monster.” It felt less like a chance and more like certain death. Perhaps something had happened since the Iskarans left that had cleansed their lands, but she thought it was much more likely it was the epicenter of Blight and ruin.  “I know Aurea in Haven,” she said, cutting her eyes at him slightly though she was not genuinely offended for his reminder. Her shoulders lifted slightly in a shrug, though it was not to say that she did not know. It was more or less a gesture to acknowledge she wished to do what Soren likely would want to do the least. “I want to patrol the border. There’s something else, too, not just the barrier. It’s something else, it’s building… or singing or… vibrating.” She became frustrated with her inability to put it to words, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides for a few moments. “It’s like it’s calling.” The arcana in her spell scar ignited and the air around Soren became charged and alive with a current that pulled and yearned, the best replication Freydis could create with Veilwhisper’s capabilities.

[rhysxvuldak]

The rot seemed to find them all. Iskaldrik had been first, overrun with Darkspawn, with the dead, and dragged plenty into the deep that they had attempted to avoid. The last Legion outpost had fallen, and now look at where they were? The Aetherians were blighted, according to Freydis, and now there would be little hope to find a spot within that wasn't filled with it. Still, he wouldn't argue if she knew for certain.

Patrolling the border seemed like a miserable idea, but the bard at least knew when to hold his tongue. The Vuldak pinched the bridge of his nose, considering any other options they would have. They were few and far between, "Right," he said after a minute, looking back towards the barrier. There was a hell of a lot of border between them and Iskaldrik, but if she wished to walk it, then they would walk it. "Lead the way, then. If it's done anything, it might have woken up darkspawn again. We should be careful."