cosmic ash & blackened brain

[zelihatheflight]

Zeliha grinned wide to Juneau's statement. A faiman could not lie, and so it was impossible to agree that her friend - or anyone who was sane - would have have felt fear in the face of almost certain doom. But there was an adventurous spirit in her friend, one that had Juneau so often finding new ways of testing her limits. One could say it was recklessness, but Zeliha was generous. "You are always very brave to me," she decided honestly, still grinning wide as she pulled away enough to simply hold Juneau's arms.

"And there is absolutely no way that I will ever wish to fight a God," Zeliha commented thoughtfully, "but I would also never let a friend go at it alone if I could help it." The smile returned as she squeezed Juneau's arms before finally letting go. "Thankfully, I know you weren't at it alone. I'm just so, so very proud of you, and so very selfishly glad you're back home." There was a subtle hint of uncertainty that crossed over the faiman's expression. This is home, isn't it? Lysara? Juneau had a business now, near the South just a few miles north of where Zeliha would be working now. Would the vuldak sell it all, return to Iskaldrik? She had figured no, but only just then realized that it was but a assumption. Her heart dropped.

"Ah- you... are, right?"

[vuldak-juneau]

”Yeah, well… Bravery and stupidity are the same thing–people just decide which of the two to call them when they know the outcome,” Juneau grumbled. She stood back from Zeliha, but did not pull away from the Faiman. She knew her friend had meant what she said as a compliment, and occasionally–usually when it mattered most–Juneau was truly brave. But other times she was merely reckless, or pulled along in an undercurrent where she truly didn’t have any choice in the matter. She would argue that following Casimir to Iskaldrik was somehow all three at once.   “Good, it was hard,” she muttered under her breath. It came out with her typical air of impatience and gruffness, but it was the truth. There had been plenty of Iskarans and allies who signed themselves up for the task, so luckily Zeliha would not have to worry about Juneau being lonely, outnumbered, or so much as having a moment to herself. But when Zeliha continued to speak, it merely struck Juneau again that she had experienced the strange phenomenon of actually missing Lysara and some of the people it held while she had been away, that it actually pained her in the high points of the battle that she may not see certain faces again. “I don’t have any plans to relocate to that shitty pile of rocks they call a kingdom if that’s what you’re getting at.” It was said in her usual coarse language, but it was meant to reassure Zeliha.

[casimirnoctis]

Often his mind was conflicted on the puzzle of the Kossith ship, the Kossith as a whole, and his breezy demeanor on such subject was out of character, if not to say - it was a glaring error of how he felt given lack of results. "When I know something of interest, you know I'll tell you," that was clearer, if not disappointing for her and thus himself. He'd a very specific person to ask, but one such person had been impossibly indeterminate when it came to their whereabouts, especially after a certain soul breathing path was attempted.

Casimir had, most importantly, noted how worry seemed to find him where Juneau was concerned, a trait - a feeling - he was not especially fond of, but one which lent to such frustrations all the same. The spirit - if one could call it that - which cured her, the ring which - and Casimir was unsure what would be more chilling - was either sunk to the depths of the Azure sea or had been found by another; all pieces of a frustrating puzzle related to the Kossith who had seemingly retreated so perfectly. Casimir did not appreciate this, the way the pieces all fit together so perfectly; which only meant something far more unsavory would come to pass. That was what he'd come to learn from all this madness after all.

When her face twisted into such coined Juneau Frown all Casimir could do was exhale a dead breath of humor, even if it felt wrong. "I'm uneasy over what came to pass and it's a feeling which I do not like," he was unsure if he'd stated this aloud more for his sake than hers, but Juneau was one of the few, on an impossibly short list, whom he did trust to say such feelings aloud to.

"But such feeling pales in comparison to what I dread now - like the worlds been split open," this comment clarified what loomed on the horizon, what Darkness crept and swarmed them still. "I'd never ask you to put your life on the line, but I think now more than ever we need that vuldak side of you." This was an agreement to her teasing inquiry, something which Casimir took seriously.

[vuldak-juneau]

“Do me a favor and try to figure out a little faster then, hm?” Juneau prompted, her arms crossed as she leaned into some corner or piece of furniture or another attempting to look more casual about it than she truly felt. She did not want to become like the Kossith. The idea of emulating them in any way, shape, or form grated on her. But, as she was about most things, she was curious about them. There were lessons to be learned from their technologies and way of life, Juneau thought. Lessons that could find much better applications. 

Silently, she wished she shared Casimir’s cryptic mirth, but she didn’t. Her frame deflated visibly and her angular features took on the form of anticipatory defeat. “How many times do I have to be punished for choices that were made for me or ones forced on me when I was backed against the wall?” she asked quietly. She refused now to look at Casimir’s face whether it wore false amusement, concern, or any other emotion. “Maybe it was just another trap. Fine. It could be. But I’d rather live in delusion continuing to think it wasn’t and it was real. Delusion and denial won’t change the afterlife, but they’re more than capable of making this one miserable…” 

Rather than face him again–as she knew he would not approve of her gasping at false security–she pretended to be preoccupied studying something on the desk in the room they occupied before she hopped up to sit perched on the edge of it. “It sounds very much like you’re asking me to put my life on the line,” Juneau corrected, and as she thought of her abyssal form she could smell the acrid stench of ashes and taste them on the back of her tongue. “Is that a bet you’re willing to take when you’re so distrusting of how I came across this bright, shiny, suspicious new soul of mine?”

[zelihatheflight]

Date: Iskaldrik is saved Location: Wildlands, border to Iskaldrik Characters: @vuldak-juneau & @zelihatheflight Notes: :''''

"You're back!!!" There was little time for Juneau to react; the faiman had already been running with her arms spread wide. Juneau would have been one of those that Zeliha had told she was moving to the South, by the border to Astoria. A healer and a smuggler was sorely needed there, not in the Wildlands where the people had been at peace and there were none to smuggle in from Iskaldrik.

But not even the Gods could have stopped Zeliha from returning to her former home see the these brave warriors arrive back from their journey Northward. The moment Juneau turned towards the shrill and happy sound, Zeliha launched herself and wrapped her arms around the vuldak. "I forgive you for fighting evil Gods without me, because you're alive and absolutely obliterated their sorry ass!! I missed you so much!!"

[vuldak-juneau]

Juneau never felt more under duress of being grappled than when she caught Zeliha’s sent wafting toward her from somewhere nearby. Even Toth had not left her feeling quite so certain of her fate. And then the Faiman made impact. Without a Vuldak’s constitution, Juneau would have easily been toppled. “I’d really prefer we pretended I never left in the first place,” Juneau grumbled as she wrapped a single arm around Zeliha and patted her back to emulate the manner in which she had seen others comfort one another before. The Vuldak could still scarcely believe she’d been conned into the endeavor and coined as a hero–and by Casimir no less. 

“I didn’t realize you wanted to go fight one so badly, I would have let you take my spot,” Juneau said with utter seriousness. She despised being hailed as some sort of selfless hero. The fact of the matter is, she’d do just about anything Casimir asked of her. She had been motivated to act by the bond shared between the pair of them, and not much in the way of a genuine sense of altruism. But she was glad to be back in Lysara now. “I was very, very brave. And I was not afraid at all.” It was the same bold face lie she’d tell Julian–except the wolf bond they shared often served as a sort of built-in lie detector. Even so, Juneau was fairly assured Zeliha would call her on her bullshit.

[heroic-ignus]

Only when she pushed him away that he felt the cold that she left behind once again, reminded of the worst few nights of his journey, the first three after his departure, when he'd wake up in the middle of the night wishing to check on her, to cover her with her blanket when she'd tossed it aside in her sleep, only to find himself alone with his darkness, and those that came after the message he received in his mind, one that he was yet to find out if it were real or an illusion caused by dehydration and starvation, one created by the beast to tempt and toy with him, a message which's contents regarded the days they spent together, his lessons not only as a Vuldak but as a man who'd seen her inner fights, her demons; one that meant death, and that made him despair, afraid that the quest he'd gone to in order to reclaim his own light would be the one that took the one he already had in Juneau away from him. He chose to think of it as the tricks of the creature, turning him against himself, making him lose hope, but, deep down, he could never trully believe his mind, always scared he'd arrive too late...

Alder couldn't say anything in response because she was right, a letter meant nothing, he'd been a coward to resort to such tricks back then, all of that because he lacked the heart to leave her even though it was warranted. He didn't have an excuse, nothing would justifty doing to her what he'd promised her he'd never do, because he knew her mind better than any other, it was her greatest fear, her most painful insecurity, and he'd neglected it because he was scared he'd lose his will to go if he were to speak to her face-to-face before doing so. The older of the two deserved the unkind words of the person he'd hurt due to his actions and he did not try to avoid them in any way. "I'm sorry." He repeated himself, sincerely once more. His eyes were filled with sadness, but he wouldn't let it show in other features, he didn't deserve to feel sorrow but he did deserve the misery his thoughtless actions could lead him to. "It was never my intention to abandon you... I didn't think it would take me so long to come back... I'm not trying to justify anything, but I do owe you an explanation." If his voice cracked at some point while he spoke, he didn't notice, but it wouldn't be surprising if it did.

It pained his heart to see her that way, to watch her rage from the pointy-end of that metaphorical dagger, but he couldn't help but feel relieved that at least she was alive and breathing, that had not come too late for her, that he could still be there if she needed in a future... Not a distant one, since his days were numbered, but one nonetheless. "I heard you in my mind... I don't know if it was a dream, an illusion or...-" He sighed, not finding a word to say that, and he didn't even know why he was saying that to begin with. "I'm just glad you are fine, kiddo..." To sum it all up in a sentence, that was that. "I just hope you'll forgive me one day, as you've done once before." He stopped himself from adding anything to it, but he did want to continue... "Because you're all I have left... And I don't know how much longer I can resist this darkness.", those were words he'd keep to himself for a while, afterall, that was not the time to say them.

[vuldak-juneau]

For all of Juneau’s bravado and performative anger, much of what existed beneath the surface of her self-inflicted distance was the same, scared child driven out of that mountainous Iskaran village she was born in. Most days, the same arrested development she had assumed in her time with the emotionally withholding and negligent guide of Ivar still steered her decision making. She had learned many lessons from Alder, from Julian, from Zeliha, but instinct and false security always vied to drag her back into the lonely pit of her own despair, even now. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the way her stomach hurt and the way her hands shook, she found herself in a state of equal relief that Alder had returned and anger that this meant one day she would have to say goodbye to him again, and she knew that this time it would be permanent. 

Her head swam and ached from all she felt in the moment despite her attempts to convince the world she was unfeeling and cold. Her brows lifted in expectation when he spoke, the slight widening of her eyes making the tears within them all the more obvious. Juneau did not recognize the childish self-centered characteristic she took on when she asked him, “Well? What was so important?” The insinuation in her question was obvious: What was more important than me? “Whatever you thought it was, it was probably the worst case scenario,” she answered callously. The insecurities of her past reared their heads in the ugliest of fashion, the comment meant to assure Alder the worst had indeed come to be so that he would feel pained by the reality. But she regret it immediately and simmered down. “It happened but… it didn’t stay like that.” I died, but I didn’t stay dead. Again. Her angered gaze took root in the corner of the room and her jagged, sharp posture softened slightly at his request for forgiveness. “Can we talk somewhere else?” she asked tersely, hating how exposed she felt in the room of strangers and by the mentor who always managed to see through her as if she was made of glass. “We both probably have a lot to tell each other.”

[heroic-ignus]

It had not been long since his return to Lysara, but enough for him to have traveled the Queendom in search of that one person, the family which's bond was, to him, stronger than blood. There was no place he hadn't been to, no rock left unturned, and yet he didn't find her, a scent, maybe, but always too thin for him to follow, or too mixed up with that of others for the old Vuldak to sense a clear path. Maybe that was his punishment for leaving, perhaps his last less than two decades of life as a man would be spent alone as he slowly faded from Alder Iguns to blighted monster. It was almost funny that the results of his search for light would be the decision he'd regret the most in his final moments, if not for the fact that loneliness wasn't the only feeling inside the mended heart... He was afraid.

Afraid that something had happened to Juneau, that fate had taken her from him the same way it took Lor, that his absence had left her lost, thinking that maybe he could've waited one more year, or even one more day, before his sudden departure. Deep down, he knew that this fear was irrational, born from the uneasiness and care of an old man that had for a long time forsaken himself, a symbol of his concern regarding the path which she'd choose to follow because, even deeper, he was afraid that because he was the one who taught her that she'd follow his previous steps to the edge of darkness, where light did not dare shine.

There was a part of him that entertained the thought tha maybe she just didn't want to be found, that she'd moved on, away from the memories of her old mentor, after all, he knew what she'd been through in her life, that it could've seemed like he'd done to her the same thing pained her the most, that he'd abandoned her like everyone else beforehand. Perhaps she didn't find his letter... Maybe it fell under the table or got washed away by rain that somehow got past the closed windows of the shared room... Now that he thought about it, he didn't even know if the girl knew how to read to begin with.

Alder was back to The Stumble Inn, the place in which her smell had always been stronger, led by his guilty steps that did not dare go past the main hall to that door ever since he found the room empty when he came back. His eyes stared at the stairs leading up to it, his mind lost in thoughts and sadness, not even realizing that the scent grew stronger with time until his eyes shifted towards the moving person, his body turning as the dim light showed the figure of the person he'd been looking for. He watched as she walked towards him, "is this a dream?", he wondered, maybe he'd fallen asleep at a table... No, the pain of the hits to his chest were enough proof of it. She must've felt betrayed when he left, abandoned... His arms did not stop the punches, reaching around, embracing her in a hug that held the strongest of feelings. "It's okay... I'm back." He spoke softly. "I'm sorry for leaving you..."

[vuldak-juneau]

The small and one-sided battle that Juneau attempted to wage war against Alder with was cut short when he embraced her rather than retaliating or turning away from Juneau. For most of her life, she was used to the latter two options. She had grown used to being something people did not wish to handle, something they decided was too barbed or too damaged for any effort to be made. Alder seemed to welcome her back to his presence, range and all, and the fact that she was significantly punching above her weight class stalled out her half-hearted attempts to wound him the way his absence had been a dagger in her heart. 

For a moment, her arms fell to her side. Juneau’s hands remained balled into fists, still and useless at her sides. She wanted to continue to rage at Alder. The idea of making him feel every bit as rotten and rejected as she had felt upon his departure surged from the back of her mind, tempting, but short lived. Before, she probably would have. The influence of the Dark and its motivation to corner her to make her more pliable to His will likely would have won out. It would have directed her to punish Alder, to rail against him in violent, malicious ways. But it wasn’t there anymore pulling at the strings at her raw edges–now she was merely a woman trying to outrun the wounds of her youth with only so much fight left within her.  “You promised you wouldn’t leave me.” This was said through gritted teeth, the side of her head against Alder’s front. “You promised, and then you just abandoned me. Leaving a note doesn’t change what you did.” Juneau pushed back from his embrace (though she had remained in it for the better part of a minute) to glower up at him. Her anger over it would temper with time in his proximity, but for now it was roiling and simmering beneath her skin. "You were gone for so long. And I needed you." This last verbalizations of his transgressions against her was spoken as if from the tone and perspective of a child. Her anger was quickly backsliding into something that felt like humiliation to fall apart like this in such a public space.

[vuldak-juneau]

who: @heroic-ignus where: The Stumble Inn when: after the Heros Unite quest notes: Alexa, play father figure by George Michael

Most of Juneau’s scant earthly possessions were situated in drawers, shelves, under floorboards, and in the shadowy corners of Julian’s cabin in Haven. What little else she owned remained on the nearly bare shelves of her small bedroom in Jamie’s home. Even so, she felt compelled to return to the Stumble Inn upon the return from Iskaldrik. The Innkeeper would not let Juneau hear the end of it if the wily blonde never showed up to prove she was still alive, and who knew what state the garden was in after the stretch of neglect. But it wasn’t home to Juneau any longer. 

She had cleared out the few items that she and Alder had carried on their backs into Lysara from their shared room at the Stumble Inn months ago and what they had accumulated as a pair since, but she had stopped living there months ago upon returning from the Kossith ship. Alder’s scent lingered in the room, memories settled into the floorboards, but so did his absence. Juneau clung to the items that reminded her of Alder, scolding those who were too curious about them or who threatened to tarnish the memories or scents that still clung to them. 

It was not altogether uncommon during her stay at the Stumble Inn that the dim candle light would cast shadows at just the right slant that a stranger’s back appeared to her as Alder. But when she drew closer or they stepped into better lighting it never yielded anything but disappointment. She suspected her haunting of this old stomping ground this evening would be no different, thus she ignored the familiar frame in the corner of her peripheral vision for as long as she could. The surly little thief denied herself hope, reminding herself that the phantom scene of Alder had duped her many times before–she would not allow the rug to be pulled from under her now. 

But as the figure turned and she was afforded an uninterrupted view it became clear that the sense of familiarity was not the betrayal of memory or a trick of the light–Alder stood in the inn’s tavern material and real. Juneau’s expression darkened, then softened, then broke as she maintained eye contact. Without thinking, spurred on my pure reflex, her feet carried her in his direction with such conviction that her footfalls were audible to their sensitive hearing over the din of the crowd. One small fist lifted as she came within an arm’s reach, lifting and then arcing downward with a dull thud as she slammed it against his chest. And then the other hand, again and again and again as the color in her cheeks rose and her glassy eyes reflected the flicker of the candles overhead. Her assault might have broken the rib of someone lesser, but as creatures of equal constitution her fists were little more than mere annoyances–and she didn’t mean to hurt Alder regardless, but rather to display the tempest of her fury over what she perceived as being abandoned.

[juliangladiator]

Often he found himself no longer steady, influencing his own reactions by spark of the others around him; Juneau proved a slippery slope of this, her constant inquietude, uncertainty and nerves. Julian took one breath, a sharp inhale that he'd have likely held forever if it made any difference to the delivery of her news.

Naturally, he took her hand - the gesture was more than welcome and he found relief to know that sometimes she still fought through her own frayed nerves for that bloom of connection. "Iskaldrik," the fallen kingdom was stated as though he was trying to familiarize it on his tongue, consider it. They'd never discussed it in much detail - it'd mostly been a monument of the past, collecting dust by whatever hellish war was swarming them in the current times. Yet - here it was, staring him in the face, staring them both in the face; her home, even if it'd always presented itself as the glacial fortress it was to her, with only wounds to greet her with.

"So.... you think there's something worth reclaiming?" A brow piqued on his typically confuzzled expression, trying not to mildly grin at the thought that Juneau figured this to be some valiant effort to reclaim something that was lost. He'd never figured her the type, but worry still won out over his teasing as Julian gave her hand a small squeeze.

[vuldak-juneau]

Only silence occupied the space between them as Juneau stared at her hand in Julian’s until he muttered the name of that accursed kingdom. A year ago she had felt the unbridled fury of betrayal at Alder abandoning her at camp for the sake of a few captives of notable Iskaran acclaim. Now she apparently would be a delayed shadow on that same mission, although it was Casimir’s footsteps she actively followed. Her stomach churned at the idea of disappointing the dhampir, but she didn’t feel any better about what she had agreed to at his behest. “That’s the one,” Juneau muttered, sucking her teeth. 

She grunted in initial response to his question. “Worth? No,” she responded. “It’s a rotten wasteland brought to ruin by equally rotten people. I’m not going because I care about what happens to it. Someone asked me to and I–” she cut herself off, grumbled, and ultimately chose to finish the thought, “I don’t want to disappoint the person who said I ought to go help.” She hated how deeply Casimir’s favor motivated her, but she was rendered powerless to deny her unlikely mentor. 

Juneau’s eyes sank to their hands when Julian gave it a small squeeze. On the table, she straightened her back and lifted her chin slightly. “Don’t worry–I’m not scared.” She was, and as much was as obvious through the bond as it was in the look behind her eyes and details of her face.

[ellies-enrichment]

[juliangladiator]

Not only did Juneau appear somewhat emotionally skittish, but she trudged into the cabin, this listless sense of spirit that was the complete opposite of her typical defiance through life. As such, Julian looked at her as though he were a confused dog, studying the other with bristled ears and a head cocked to the side. She had plenty of dread in life, many things to be fearful of - and yet such fears and inquietude were often well restrained - or rather, barred behind a thick layer of cruel resolve as a clear defense mechanism.

A touch of sadness melded with concern piqued within his cerulean eyes, beckoning her closer with a wave of his hand towards the table in which he sat. "Well don't just linger as though you're passing through," it was soft, laced with that typical compassion that resonated within everything that often disarmed the werewolf. They were distinct opposites and through his traumas he became this whereas Juneau had normally been, well, that - bristled and unkind, though not without reason.

[vuldak-juneau]

The corners of Juneau’s lips pulled downward in reaction to the slight tilt of Julian’s head. She approached him with all of the nervous anticipation of someone who knew they were about to deliver unwelcome news. Juneau would have come close even if Julian had not beckoned her closer with his gesture. With some small effort, she lifted herself to sit on the edge of the table, her shoulders square with him, body angled toward him. The look on her face went from grim to guilty when he spoke, though she doubted it was his intention to make her feel guilt ridden over information he didn’t yet possess.

But there was little point in beating around the bush or prolonging the inevitable. Juneau lifted one of her hands from where it had been clenching the edge of the table, her pale palm waiting for Julian’s own hand. “I’m going back to Iskaldrik,” she stated, and then elaborated, through gritted teeth, “with the rest of the deluded fools who think there’s something worth reclaiming. As if it was going to be easy–or possible–to wrench it back from the magisters who took it.” 

[jamieprice]

For once it doesn't take a second, the moment she's shuffled up to him, he's putting an arm around her just as stiffly. If Adrian had been home to see, he was sure it would have been a laughable sight. But it worked for them. She's there and she's solid and he can hear a heart beating in her chest. It was funny to think that he'd never once thought the lack of it was a problem until he realized the familiarity in the silence was gone. It'd become a complete cold stranger to him on that boat. He'd never really lost anyone, not really. Now in a way, her being there beside him really meant that was true. "I've never really had much tae lose before ye an' him." Jamie admits, lips pursed into a thin line, his hand on her shoulder offering the most tentative squeeze. "Nae something I'd like tae experience again." But he is young yet by vampire standards. Loss was part of it, the penance for what he was. "Ye'll come back, I know ye will." "Besides," Looking to the little black furball in the middle of the floor, his brow raised. "He's actually the trap."

[vuldak-juneau]

There was silence when Jamie acknowledged he had not lost someone of such import yet. He and Juneau shared many experiences, but this wasn’t one of them. She had lost Alder, a hard-won father figure who she would have followed into any fate now nothing more than a note with an empty promise scrawled upon it. And then there was Julian–not human, but equally fleetingly mortal as Adrian. 

“How do you stand it?” she asked quietly, thinking that both would be gone far sooner than either she or Jamie would ever be willing to permit. “How do you stomach knowing he’ll be gone first–by a lot?” Her throat felt like it was closing, a suffocating feeling overcoming her. “I don’t know if I’m going to live as long as him, or as long as you,” she admitted, verbalizing it for the first time. “What’s the point when they’re gone?” How long had she fought for meaningful, lasting attachment? And she was supposed to just keep living once it was gone? 

She looked at Ness on the floor, and she had certainly fallen into more elaborate traps before. The feline was one she’d always walk into willingly.

[soapytdaily]

[valshirathelight]

Val'shira set Juneau a grim smile. She could appreciate a joker during these tough times, especially since every time she tried to ease the tension with her own kin, the noble elve was met with incredulous stares of fear and worry from those who didn't know the definition of dark humor. She wasn't very good at comforting people, but she hoped to improve that. Volunteering in this effort was a start, apart from her already heavy duties of leadership.

"Val," Val'shira corrected gently, passing on the bag of tokens to another elve near her table. She put up a hand, silently requesting 5 minutes of a break as she rounded the station to meet her favorite wolf-kin. (And the only one she knew.) "It's nice you remember but, outside the Moongate or trauma magic, it's Val. Has anyone ever taught you that true names have a lot of power?" She beckoned Juneau. "Now are you here to assist my people or to steal from them? They are refugees, so I'm inclined to believe the former... You put up a hard front, but the two of us know you have a soft heart."

[vuldak-juneau]

It was disarming to Juneau to be smiled at, even when the expression was mostly edged with anxiety like Val’shira’s smile. Juneau used humor to stave off the overwhelming sense of dread that seemed to ebb and flow like a tide, thus she didn’t find it especially surprising that jokes went underappreciated in the current setting. She was getting better at knowing who could and could not handle them, not that she put much effort toward censuring herself based on that knowledge. 

Juneau grunted to acknowledge the slip of the tongue, but her eyes followed the small satchels of tokens. “What are all of those for?” she asked, more interested in what one of the tokens might procure her than in Val earning herself a break. “What is life lately but a new opportunity for trauma magic each and every day?” Juneau asked, her voice falsely chipper. “No, no one has ever mentioned that,” she lied. Alder had warned her long, long ago never to share her true name with anyone based on the fact that she was a vuldak. She had obeyed him for the most part. “Depends, is there anything worth stealing?” Her arms crossed too. “I’m a refugee, too,” she argued rather than accepting the fact that she was more bark than she was bite.

[robinxofxstars]

Robin leaned against the side of the ship, though he made sure Juneau stayed a decent amount away. He knew what water would do to those like her and Nero, and the rest of the world was no more privy to it. Still, the ship was his to run at the moment, Elokian off on the mainland, and he only smiled at his friend, "Not too far. We get past the wards soon, to keep all those who think they can stop us out." He could see the shoreline approaching, but he wasn't sure if this was the big adventure Juneau was going to be hoping for.

The barrier had shimmered, it had done something, and he wondered if she felt the same thing he had. The red hand on his chest, something visibly beneath the see through linen he wore, "Hopefully this map of yours is actually somewhat accurate. I'll be able to help, but if they fucked you over, then we'll have to find them and just...kill them."

[vuldak-juneau]

Robin’s efforts to keep her away from the spray of the sea was unnecessary. Even so, Juneau found it endearing in a friend to go to such efforts. It almost made her consider doing him the courtesy of letting him know he didn’t need to worry about such things on her account–on the return trip of course. She had nearly forgotten that those within the mystery box were privy to her unfortunate fate, and she hadn’t exactly made a practice of advertising the recovery of her soul outside of her innermost circle. “What wards?” she asked, a brow quirking. Juneau had never been frightened of the concept of magic like other Iskarans, but as a consequence of her homeland she still had plenty to learn about the full scope of its capabilities. “Who would want to keep you out, you’re so much fun.”

“They won’t be hard to find, apparently they’re the Cisterns at least once a week,” Juneau assured him. She had not particularly cared about the jewels she had traded for the map–they were overly pretty, glimmering things. Not Juneau’s style. But neither was being swindled. She pulled the parchment from her pack and unfolded it before them. From even a cursory glance, Robin would be able to tell it was an accurate depiction of the island. But the reason it had failed to garner much attention from a buyer was obvious, too: a large hold in the middle, rimmed by the evidence of the hole itself being burned out of the map. The proverbial X that marks the spot would have been within–and it was no small area either. “If you know the island as well as you say you do, then I doubt this should be a dead end.”

[jamieprice]

He looks at her in the nearly empty room, looks to the sun shining from the window into it, casting her in a soft sort of glow. Looking at her hurts in a way, like he had to convince herself she was really there. Even after they'd gotten off the island, he thought he had to be hallucinating, Adrian too. Jamie watched her like he was waiting for her to disappear again. Like he was going to turn around and see her up on the boat again, strung up and bloodied. "Juneau." It's soft, it's uncharacteristically soft for the way he speaks to her. He hadn't even spoken to her in such a way when they'd been on that ship, when he was certain they'd never see one another again. "I know it's none of my business lass, but I want tae know yer safe." Jamie thinks he actually needs to know, her and Adrian, he has nothing, he's never had anything, but he has them now and he was pretty sure if he could breathe, if he had to, he'd be hyperventilating. "Seeing ye, like that, I din...." Trailing off, he looks from her to the floor. "I din know what would have happened if ye hadnae come back."

[vuldak-juneau]

Being looked at like some sort of a ghost wasn’t a novel experience to Juneau. Alder had looked at her like some sort of a cursed phantom, a look of understanding rather than pity. She was not sure how to describe how Julian had looked at her once he learned she was a Vuldak; surprised and unsurprised, with an understanding that she was a dead thing but devoid of disgust. Adrian had looked as haunted as she had felt in those early days. In those days, she was alive, but on borrowed time with a toll to pay every month. If there was another shoe to drop in her second attempt at a life on the edge of the Elvhen’s blade, Juneau was still waiting for it. And she chose to live in the comfort of ignorance. And she did that–she lived, no longer a consciousness haunting a corpse in stasis. 

Jamie was likely as averse to acts of affection as she was, but she set Ness down and approached Jamie anyway. Juneau leaned into him, an awkward and stiff hug between two individuals who had hardly had reason to practice such embraces in their lives. But it wasn’t about comforting him with the hug, but rather the reassurance that she was material and real, and not paper thin. 

“I’ll keep coming back,” she promised, her tone similar to that of a petulant adolescent begging for additional trust and freedom. She knew Jamie would grant it to her, but she didn’t want it to come at the cost of his worry. “I will be. There are people out there I can trust. And I always come back.” Her arms crossed and she cocked one hip to the side. Juneau did not mean to dismiss or minimize what had happened on the ship, but it seemed it would take some sort of cosmic force to wipe her from the face of Taravell for good. “You would have been fine. You would have looked out for Adrian. But I did come back, and not just to have to struggle against a fate I never asked for.” But then again, Juneau had not asked to be enlightened that some power existed out there that could cleanse the Blight from a soul–and as much as she hated the idea of being a hero, she couldn’t stop thinking about whether or not it was possible to find a way to spare others of the Blight, too. "But if you're that worried and you want to lock me in this room and this is all just an elaborate trap, no time like the present."

[juliangladiator]

Julian had never treated her like fragile glass in need of special care, but often Juneau's obstinate ways often overshadowed this. He remained silent as Juneau settled into a defiant tone, this clear example of how often she was likely counted out or diminished by others in a similar vein. Julian's mouth parted slightly as though he was to extend his own drivel of how strong he'd always seen her to be and any other variation of such encouragement, but Julian had learned better over time in close proximity to her. 

Maybe a few months prior, he would have blanched and then furiously blushed in tandem to her retort of girlish whimsy and charm but Julian merely allowed himself to roll his eyes this time around, snorting as a result. “Or maybe your rock tossing skills were very hard to ignore,” he'd let her relish in the idea of him being adorned with some gladiator skirt; it had been so long since the matches had ceased that it didn't quite hinder him to be reminded of them once more. The world had been so utterly fragile; Julian had always been aware of the use of such gladiator skirmishes, often a distraction for the people and as such he no longer felt guilty the more he drifted towards Haven. 

She'd emerged from the tub and Julian had instantly banished any topic from his mind that they'd once spoken of, completely immersed in what was stood before him, even if Juneau was brandished loosely with a towel over her form. The tanned warmth of his muscular frame seemed compelled to lean into the damp chill of Juneau's, instinctive, his wanton unsullied by anything other than this dire need for proximity suddenly. That - and to kiss her, unabashedly, unhurried; Julian kissed her slow. 

He felt her nails coast with some slim pressure down the vastness of his back, and though Juneau seemed borderline attached to the towel now pinned between them, Julian picked her up from the ground with ease as though it would somehow meld them closer together, the werewolf smiling - despite his own scant pride - wildly into the embrace. 

[vuldak-juneau]

“Why don’t you bring those rocks over here and see what I do with them?” Juneau challenged with a smug little expression that communicated she understood exactly how frivolous and foolish her words were. She didn’t care that it was stupid, or that it opened the door for Julian to mock her back. It didn’t strike her in the moment how little fear she had of being ridiculed with Julian, or how present she felt in the moment with him as they remained pressed into each other, both disheveled and messy and aching after time apart. It was novel for her, apart from any past experience, but she registered little of that other than the tingling sensation of it all that ran up along her spine. 

With nowhere else to go and nothing presently to worry about except one another, Juneau permitted Julian all the time he cared to take with the kiss. His hands against her skin elicited a warm weight that bordered on searing, or a sensation like the scattering of a thousand miniature scars over the surface of her skin. When she did finally need to pull away from him for air, she tugged gently at the soft flesh of his bottom lip for a moment.

As her feet left the ground, the gladiator fully capable of lifting her as if there was nothing to her, the towel dropped from between them into a useless pile of itself between Julian’s feet. For leverage, Juneau hooked one arm around his neck and to avoid the presence of his smile she buried her face against the crook of his neck. She was a jealous little thing, and territorial in equal measure despite her often feigned indifference. Juneau thought of the next few days to be spent in Haven, and Julian one of the heroes of the recovery effort. With that thought, she busied herself with the task of bruising Julian–in some places along the side of his neck with the darkened smudge of a hickey, and in others by way of rings of sharp, intentional bite marks.

[juliangladiator]

Even this late in the season, the weather here was balmy and temperate, a tell of what jewels resided within when considering how many figured Eastreach to be of some paradise getaway. wealth and beauty, often cloistered within Hestia's Cove, were presented rather clearly here, though many rural villages and homes dotted the hilly expanse, proving what cultures melded within. Julian had zoned out as they patiently waited, eyes on the hillsides off to the left; he could see, jutting out near the edge of the hill, a woman preening one of the many olive groves; a basket nestled at her hip while one hand worked tirelessly. 

With this vision, Julian smiled but he was pulled quickly from the sight as a slice of apple hovered in his view, Julian pinching it between his thumb and forefinger to crunch on it happily. Sometimes, or rather, often times it was hard to get a read on Juneau and as the vuldak - soul reinstated - muttered this statement under her breath, all Julian could do was raise a curious brow. In earnest, he sat a bit straighter, tossed the last half of his apple slice into his mouth, and nearly cocked his head to the side as he pondered aloud, “Well you don't think something may have happened to her, do you?" Indeed this seemed to be one of the various moments he found he was unsure of what Juneau was thinking and wished for her to paint it clearly for him. 

Julian sighed, not annoyed at the question, but rather a show of his own - surprisingly - relaxed state. There was a mild shrug before he promptly flopped his body down into the small bit of grass that jutted out from the cliff they'd been perched on, his blue eyes peering towards the sky. “M'fine, Juneau," and though it may have sounded too casual for even Julian to utter, he indeed felt surprisingly not on edge in the moment. 

[vuldak-juneau]

Juneau had not expected Julian to have a come-apart during their trip to the Cove, or any of the surrounding landmarks. But even so, she had some small trepidations in his agreement to go with her. It was difficult to forget that baring of souls they had shared–well, Julian had bared much of his soul and Juneau had merely been present with him trying her best not to make things worse–back at the inn when Julian laid out his personal history. Any hesitation seemed to be for not. Juneau was never entirely at ease, but Julian seemed to manage some level of genuine relaxation. She was glad. The idea of Julian returning to his homeland before he was ready and it causing emotional distress on her account would have made the surly little Vuldak berate herself over the guilt. 

“M’fine, Juneau,” she echoed back to him as she forced her voice a few octaves deeper to tease him. She sliced into the apple again, pulling away another segment and dangling it over him where he rested. “Y’wan’nother’apple, J’l’n?” There was little Julian could manage without Juneau teasing him for it, but she was pleased he seemed to be at ease. Perhaps even enjoying himself. “I like it more out here where it’s quiet. I could find something big enough for the two of us. You can visit me when I’m not visiting you,” she suggested as she glanced down at him. 

Juneau propped herself up against her arms and crossed one ankle over the other with a slight sigh, one shoulder lifting and then the other as she stretched her back. Julian’s question was met with a wry smile and a shake of Juneau’s head. “No, no, it’s much more likely she happened to someone,” she warmed ominously. It would make sense as Julian got to know the moss kitten. 

And then, a mere moment later and as if on cue, the tall grass around them seemed to quiver and shake in intervals as something very tiny and obscured by the foliage bounded through it. Then, theatrical and proud, Marigold leapt onto Julian’s chest to reveal herself, her large yellow eyes mere inches from Julian’s own face as she took him in–and of course gave him a good sniff. “Are you my new daddy?” Marigold asked. Much like Juneau, her sense of humor was largely comprised of putting people on the spot. Juneau made a nose somewhere between a snort and a laugh from beside Julian and the lush, green kitten.

[vuldak-juneau]

who: @juliangladiator when: after them Red Hands have been summoned where: wrote it to be the cabin in Haven but feel free to make it the Eterna apartment if you prefer notes: what a reasonable, responsible length. you said it couldn't be done.

The only fitting description of how Juneau crossed the threshold of Julian’s cabin in Haven could be trudging. For such a long time Juneau had known she did not want to make the world a worse place, but did not think she held within her the capabilities to make it much better. To leave it no worse for wear but scarcely improved was enough for her. Apparently that was not enough for Fate. Or for Casimir who had been insistent she rise up the summons both of them to reclaim the Vuldak’s homeland that had never quite felt like home. 

Juneau was certain she would have sensed something if a Red Hand had manifested upon Julian’s skin, and something in the way he looked at her when she entered the cabin. He would have been able to sense the sudden flash of unmistakable dread through their bond despite the distance, nor would it be the first time Julian would sense such a strong emotion. It made her worry the wolf would decide she was more trouble than she was worth–as if it was possible to merely will the connection away. Or perhaps he would wash her hands of him when she revealed her intention to return to whatever ashes remained of Iskaldrik. “We should talk,” she said quietly in lieu of a proper greeting.