This is diabolical I need a lie down
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@xdeimosx
This is diabolical I need a lie down
“It would make a wonderful toy to peddle to children as well,” she pondered aloud, crossing her arms and gazing at the barrier as if she would be able to count if all the layers of magic remained based on the way the sunlight hit it. “It feels heavier here than most places, even from the edge of Haven it impacts my dreams,” she responded, but quieted as he took a moment to select his words. “Do you think it is darkness meaning to destroy it, or light attempting to right itself again?” Freydis was not too proud to admit she was fearful of what Deimos’ answer might be.
“I would like to help you, if you’d accept my help,” Freydis stated. “I could go with you or… help gather provisions or resources–whatever you needed.” She was inclined to help those she trusted, to follow them loyally into Hel and high water. But if all Deimos might require of her was something in the way of materials, she would see to it he had everything he requested and then some. “Then we will bolster the Weave…” She was resolute. She was also clueless how she might possibly accomplish such a thing.
"Without one, there cannot be the other. But the Dark One feeds more on the Weave than ever." And their costly mistake within the past, one of those things that Deimos would punish himself for. Perhaps for decades, even. He had others to care about. Diarmad, Ormir – people that meant more to him than he would have thought. Still, he looks at Freydis, a good friend to a Dúnedain who had counted himself out of having any at all. The Veilmaiden was genuine, and he wouldn't ruin that with his ramblings. "I believe magic and even the weave can be healed. It just needs our help."
The druid leaned a little more on his staff, raising an eyebrow, "To Caribella?" He hummed, "Perhaps I could use the help. The Feywilds were just the first. More have been healed. Deep within Ankhuria, the Legion has done something to reunify a palantir with the stones there. They are alive once more. Whatever is attempting to drain the stones within Caribella is another thing that has not been seen for ages."
DEIMOS, THE VOID
Hanging moon in fog Mists will lead where you belong Sweep me off my feet Down, down, down by the river (x)
@xdeimosx
“It would be an honorable way to go if it wasn’t successful, wouldn’t it?” Freydis asked with false enthusiasm for the idea. Certainly it would be a tale told for ages if the world as they knew it was permitted to continue. “Are you certain? I quite enjoyed the free ride twisted around your shoulder and arm.” It had seemed strange to laugh months ago on The Road, and it seemed just as odd to laugh about it during this new set of dire straits.
Freydis came to rest beside Deimos after his greeting, careful not to disturb anything around him. She hoped his ability to endure silence, to tune into the weave, and truly listen might rub off on her. “I feel a pull from elsewhere, too,” she said, glancing at him sideways as if searching his features to confirm he felt a similar sensation. “No. Not yet. But something disturbed it, and it doesn't seem to be the same.” She paused for a moment and took a deep breath trying to coax her instincts and reflexes to relax and open themselves to the vibrations of the arcane around them. “Perhaps Caribella is a better starting place? Do you intend to make your way there soon?”
"Extremely. You'd be remembered." Deimos' tone was flat, as his sarcasm always was, but there was a hint of mirth in his eyes despite it. He leaned slightly on his staff, tilting his head, "It's the veil. It's...known so much tragedy, I think it's like..." He trailed off, rephrasing it now. "You know how you can pluck any edge of a spider's web and the rest feel it? That's what I think the veil is doing. Across our world, to Caribella and back to Lysara, the Feywilds, Iskaldrik – something is...pulling the web." That's what Deimos thought, at least. He would consider different options for years if he had to, but they no longer had that time.
"Yes. I will make my way there. All in the right time." Druids were usually not pressed for time, but in this situation, the water seemed to be pulling them closer to Caribella every day. "I think the darkness of this world is threatening to overcome us. And the weave is fighting back the only way it can."
who: @xdeimosx where: somewhere in the Wildlands in some proximity to the Iskaran border when: Ties That Bind plot drop notes: feel free to make any adjustments to time and place per what Deimos is up to.
Inquiring minds had flocked to the Iskaran border, and from what Freydis had collected from the movement of the past few days those minds seemingly had a common thread of druidic circles and association with the veil. Thus, it did not surprise her to find Deimos in the thick of wilderness where the Wildlands met the borderlands. The barrier was more easily visible here, clearly weaker. Freydis had stared until her eyes felt dry and tired waiting for it to flicker again or to present some sort of clue of what the next right move was. It was obvious, she felt, that something would happen but it was not so obvious what loomed on the horizon. Even more difficult to determine was what ought to be done about it all. Still, it was a comfort to see Deimos who was also well acquainted with finding one's self in impossible situations. “Do you think if you turned me into one of your flying serpents once more I might be able to fly above the barrier now?” she asked, clearly not placing much stock in such a strategy. “Or perhaps I could infiltrate Iskaldrik by burrowing a snake hole beneath it.”
Deimos' desires had been pulled in two. One way had led him towards Caribella, and the other towards the Iskaran border. He knew what lay beneath the capital now, as did the woman who approached him, but there was more than what was going to be seen by the border. The spirits would talk, the wild would whisper, and Deimos would simply have to listen. It was a good thing he enjoyed it, because Freydis liked to talk; it's why they made decent friends. "Should we try it? Maybe I'll make you an even bigger serpent, thenI can ride you as well." He gave her a small smile. "Well met, Freydis. I'm not surprised you were drawn here. Tragedy lurks in every corner of Iskaldrik, but I'm afraid it was almost for nothing. No one can get through the barrier."
"Tails tucked between their legs once their leader fell," Lothar looked as though he was bearing his teeth as he stated this; the barbarian had itched for a battle, though the alpha of the Feronia pack had fought well to provide victory for her lands and he had no true complaints in lieu of this. Grimly, Lothar simply shook his head, "No. There are medical tents set up not far from here." He made no move to pick up the other who looked worse for wear unless otherwise asked of.
Deimos tilted his head, though he looked expectantly down at the body, "Care to take him, then? I've had a bit of a rough day." The druid had little patience, and the exhaustion from being a prisoner for weeks and saving someone's life had about taken every last bit of compassion from Deimos' bones. Lothar looked like he was sturdy enough, didn't shower often, and lived on the land – he'd do fine taking the body.
“I can take them to the nearest healer,” she offers, already mentally pulling up a map and routing the closest path to a nearby village. They have a hedgewitch good with medicine there, and that should help stabilize the witch. And if not that, well… “We are near where Aventia used to be, as well. So there are likely Olympians in the area, since I doubt that they will leave the place unguarded after the Kossith attack.”
She pauses, and nods as a grimace crosses her face.
“Yeah, I doubt it too. They have been quiet for centuries, now that they have decided to move… Well, they don’t seem like the sort to give up easily.”
Deimos was glad this person was no longer his problem, he felt like he'd done enough to save them from drowning, and the rest was going to be up to Lailani or if they woke up. Magic would do wonders for them, a potion or one or two, but Deimos had nothing. And he was tired, exhausted, and soaked to the bone. "And Aventia is retaken for the Queen, then?"
She stared at his feet when he explained the difference in the magic present on the vessel compared to that found elsewhere in Taravell hoping her fear and disappointment would not be obvious. Her brows knit together in consternation–she was no great thinker of their time and she never would be, but she was rarely afraid of making an attempt and being wrong if it contributed to the greater good. “A mechanism,” she repeated, her eyes lifting to look at him again. “Do you know where it is or is it more… immaterial?” She was quiet for a moment, a sigh escaping her, audible despite her best intentions. But it wasn’t rooted in frustration or anger, but rather hopelessness and defeat. “We attempted that, and we came out of it empty handed.” She had felt sick to her stomach since–so much blood and violence and all of it for nothing. Perhaps it had been executed by Eivor’s hand and not her own, but she had facilitated it, and though she had little pity for the Kossith she was still disgusted with herself for having acted against her better nature.
He shook his head, his magic was more based on nature and the wild, the pull of the moon – this vessel was far from what he was used to, but he wasn't going to lead Freydis astray with all of his ramblings and ideas. Meditation sounded better, until it was too late for all of them. "Then unfortunately I think we just need to wait and see. If anything, stay near the water. It might be our only chance." He waited for a moment, "If we survive this, find me at the stones if you want to talk. We'll have more to say there, I think."
starter for @xdeimosx.
where: set it at the wildlands standing stones, but i can change it if ye need
when: current timeline
note: via plot-calls uwu
For all Agnes had lost, pieces of herself whittled away or fractured through her conscious choice to have been tethered to the Dark; her sacrifices often felt worth it when she reminded herself of the mending of the Stones. When the masses were first captured by the Kossith, she'd been prompted here, outside of Haven, to the Wildlands Standing Stones; they cried out, they wept, and Agnes tried to piece together what omen it truly solidified. The people had been liberated, many had perished, but still Agnes was not sure the battle was truly over and thus she returned to the Stones as though their cryptic ways would offer any clarification to why her heart still felt so heavy.
Her head turned to the sound of cracking branches, and Agnes offered a smile; through all her unpleasant feelings when it came to the natural order druids heartily followed, Deimos often times proved to not toe the balance so committedly. The genasi only whished Fharzai could glean such example from Deimos.
"I could venture to say your brooding was almost missed, Deimos. Are you well?" It's a broad question of his wellbeing which favored more to the wonder of what was truly endured for him.
After liberation from the Kossith, Deimos had took to the sea. He'd been paraded and heralded as the star beast, pushed forward in a new form from his dual circles, but remained silent in his suffering. He would never have a reason to let it out, to push his feelings about it all forward, so instead, he found the stones. The Feywilds were quiet, and a genasi could never be a keeper – despite how much so he knew the stones would desire one. Agnes' presence wasn't much of a surprise, she seemed to frequent often, but their paths had deviated.
"As well as one can be." It wasn't a lie, he couldn't lie, but it wasn't anything that he wished to truly speak about. He knew the secrets of the past, had watched his brother change from the tainted form of a genasi to the true form of what they were supposed to be. How the dark took that power and gave it with a price. He idly wondered if it could be done here, in a place of power, or if they were too far removed from the time of peace, now. "Do these stones still call to you, Agnes?"
"Arishok Vassan got the death they deserved," Lothar's lip curled and he spat as though in memory of the slain Kossathi leader. "Defeated in a trial by combat," the blood had spilled down Arishok's chest and still the Kossith leader tried to fight until last they had fallen, slain. What else could the other wish to hear? Lothar was no healer, though he could offer strength if needed to carry them or perhaps elbow the water from their lungs, his disappointment evident as neither of the two who crawled to shore were Prospero or the Hart's.
That was at least good news, and perhaps the preferred one. How many would've been able to get away had they been forced to march on the Kossith instead of shipped away to conquer other things and be forced to serve in Itzcoatal? "Good. And the rest of the army?" He looked at the stranger, though he eventually looked down at the body he'd pulled as well. "You know them?"
After hearing that the wolves would be fighting the Kossith, the Agent's initial plans were rendered useless. The witch had made her way to the Aventia immediately, assisting in the fighting efforts in any way that she could, hoping to capture a Kossith during the battle. Whether or not she did was not important because, as soon as the news hit her that there had been an explosion on the water, she had never traveled so quickly in so little time. With the help of other Tower witches, Eridani had made her way to the coast within minutes.
A drenched man with light hair in the distance caught her attention and she rushed forward to them, eyes wide with hope. It wasn't who she had hoped it would be. But he dragged a body, and so Eridani approached nonetheless. "You are... a druid," she observed. The Agent knew details of those that made interesting news in their kingdom with dangerous quests - as it was her job to know. But his name did not come to her, not in this moment. That he was a safe person was enough for the witch to lay down some of her guard as she knelt down by the body he had dragged. "Were you-" She took a deep breath, caught between her personal desperation for information and helping this victim. "Were you with the Kossith?" She checked for a pulse on the unconscious, but addressed the druid as she continued glancing up at him every few seconds.
Deimos looked down at the clothes he was wearing, some shoddy bit of metal and armor that he'd managed to get on before he'd been shunted from the ship during the explosion. The runes and tattoos on his body gave him away, so he gave the woman a bit of an "obviously" look when she stated what he was. The wings upon his back folded in and disappeared, and he watched, somewhat relieved, as she took up space besides the body he'd dragged from the water. "Yes. The ships have exploded, many survived, but many did not." Deimos never found the reason to mince his words, "Do you know this witch? Or someone else who can help them?"
Lailani had heard that there had been a wave of survivors washing all over Lysara, and had seen quite a bit of people wash off to shore. Most had found themselves weeping in joy at their freedom, or falling apart over the seams due to their journey through the sea, but the man — likely a druid if she has to guess based on the wings — dragging a body towards the shore seems altogether very put together. There is a brief moment of disappointment as she realizes that neither of them is Nyla, but she quickly waves that sentiment off and rushes forward to offer her aid. Her knees hit the ground next to the body, and she places her fingers against its neck, only relaxing when she feels their pulse against her fingers. Looking up to the stranger, she offers him a steady smile as she stands up and puts the body over her shoulder with an ease that denotes practice.
“You are in Lysara, and the Kossith have been stopped in their tracks,” she offers to the stranger, letting him know he is back at friendly shores. “Arishok Vassan was defeated by Queen Aurea, and Haven remains free.”
"Well that's bloody lovely, isn't it?" He'd known where he'd ended up, the shores of Lysara were familiar to the druid who'd always preferred the sea to anything else. Still, he looked at the woman, looking down at the witch he'd dragged off the boat. "I don't know them, but I made sure they didn't drown. Any idea if the Lysaran army is nearby to take care of them? An Olympian?" Now that Deimos had gotten them to shore – well – they were no longer his problem. He glanced over his shoulder, pieces of the ship floating towards the shore as well. "The ships are also gone. And Haven stands. The Kossith will go back, perhaps, but I don't think they'll be gone for good."
“Well, I didn’t just happen to pass by and think it would be fun to disturb you,” Freydis responded when she realized she had interrupted him, the teasing tone in her voice only half-hearted. She lingered, neither in the room nor out of it. She could come back later if it was preferable. They simultaneously had nothing but time and not enough time all at once. “I’m not feeling particularly motivated to add this predicament we’re in to that list of death you’re so familiar with,” she started, approaching him. “I have a hard time imagining you’re eager to take this one lying down either?”
It was obvious he had been concentrating on something, though cryptic as he was she wasn’t sure what. “Have you discovered anything of note? I was hoping to-” how to phrase it? She had no idea what she was doing, aside from grasping at straws-“attempt to examine the Veil for some sort of tear or disturbance–or any shred of hope. But you know calling me a novice at such things would be generous. I wouldn’t really know where to begin and I figured after what we’d been through a few months ago, you might be the best person to ask for help.”
Deimos tilted his head, but he only gave a small smile. Plenty of people found that as the perfect time to disturb him. And while druids hadn't always been so nomadic and solitary, he found his off putting personality was far more suited for the feywilds than with company. Still, he looked to his friend, "No, but unfortunately, the magic here is...different. It's not completely attached to the weave. It's contained, in a mechanism, and I can't figure out how to pull from it naturally." Not like how he'd learned in the past, with the elvhen that had been so naturally connected.
He'd spent time with Enkidu, with the Circle of the Veil, and he couldn't feel anything more than Freydis perhaps did. "I don't think that power is at work here. Whatever you find out, it'll have to be from the Kossith themselves, I'd think."
who: @xdeimosx where: The Kossith vessel, wherever Deimos might be when: 3 or so days into the week leading up to the self-destruct notes: let me know if you need any changes or if this doesn't make sense :' )
The occupants of the Kossith ship had a one-handed grasp on freedom, but that grasp was only half-complete and tenuous at best. For a day or so Freydis had allowed the time and space to rot in a pool or her own guilt and despair. But before long, she had reminded herself that there were still promises to be kept and problems to be solved before the Kossith’s vessel destroyed itself and everything within it.
She had learned that a few more motivated souls than herself had already discovered the engine was mere machinery. There was no arcane factor of it to be solved or undone. Of course that would be too simple. The obscured nature of their solution reminded her of the puzzling nature of the prison of the Astral Library, thus there was no one better she could think of to turn to for the sake of working out the puzzle of how to get out of their present shared predicament than Deimos.
Adrian, of course, arrived in her mind as a very close second, but Adrian would likely not be able to assist Freydis in the task of desperately pulling one of the few strings she could think of. Thus, she sought out the druid who had seen her through several adventures–or perhaps misadventures, all a matter of perspective–before. “Deimos, I was hoping I could ask you for your assistance with something,” she requested quietly from the doorframe. Despite them being in the same heart, he likely would not have met eyes with her in some time, and because they had been in the same heart he would recognize Yhane’s veil tucked into the waist of what prisoner’s clothing they had been issued.
Prying the a'dam from his throat had felt like another new beginning. The druid was not afraid of death, knew reincarnation would find his soul again. He was a Dúnedain, ruination could only do so much. The hustle of the ship after their freedom was also expected, but Deimos took to ensuring the other druids were okay – and that he would have time of a quiet connection to the wild to see where they had ended up.
That's how the other found him, in quiet meditation as he sat on the floor with his hands clasped on his lap. The druid's eyes were shut, but he felt her presence before she spoke. "I was your first thought?" There was a hint of humor in his voice, only because the normally stoic Druid was definitely not the one people would search for first. "I've had my fair share of death, Freydis," he warned after a moment, but he opened his eyes anyway and fixed her with his full attention, expectant gaze waiting for her to speak.
Location: The shoreline near Aventia Notes: how the turn tables (open to 3 people thx)
His wings of starlight had easily taken him to safety, narrowly avoiding certain death. The Kossith had gotten what was coming to them, when the alarm had been sounded that there was no hope, all could just dare to use their magic and pray to their gods that it would work when it came to protecting themselves. The body Deimos dragged was that of a witch, unsure if the person was alive or not. Still, Deimos pulled them from the water, releasing their body when they were out of the shallows.
Another figure approached, though he wasn't sure if they were from the boat or had seen the explosion from land. "Tell me good news – otherwise, pretend I was never here."
Merlin 5x03 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon
Bradley James IG Update (15 Nov 2023)
Source: @bradleyjames IG post, 15th November 2023
@bradleyjames: @hecmaclean took this to remind me of that day of summer we had once.
I was not dressed appropriately.
(A/N: the sunglasses tagged in the second photo is by an Italian eyewear brand called L.G.R. Photos are taken by Hector Maclean.)