wash away our sore eyed souls
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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#1
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
There were often experiences he had no intention of repeating – no matter the outline, the sketches, the details mapped and designated upon pathways and trails – and the latest pursuit ranked high on the never again list.

Hence the alcohol.

The latest onslaught had made its mark on him, new scars, new burns, new rattles and crackles to his breathing, some that would eventually fade and heal, others that would linger, crawl, seethe, and loiter in his mind for an eternity, another sensation of nightmares, pandemonium, and havoc, difficult to break and shatter. But it was likely nothing compared to what the others saw, once he’d left, once he’d ran, once he’d tried to summon Safrin (and failed; a familiar arrangement), once he’d embarked on the outskirts of the Spire and watched, waited, because there was naught else he could’ve done.

The last thought dragged behind him well after the tumultuous events had concluded, pressed on his shoulders with a hostile, acrimonious weight. They settled there, like knives, like daggers, like rapiers, as he’d journeyed towards the bakery, bottles upon bottles of liquor stashed in his arms, striving to remedy the day’s toxins with something else to wash away the memories, the pain, the sting of those strangled instances, those unwinding claws. It wouldn’t heal anything or everything, but it didn’t really matter in the present. They still had the future to grasp and sever, to chain and tether. This was just one more chink in their armors, one more knot in their threads.

The Reaper reached the stairs, slowly inclining his way up, and lowered his head, ashamed, ashamed, ashamed, thinking he should bang his skull against the door, pondering if that would alleviate any of the sentiments surrounding, clenching, ripping down his spine now. Instead, he used his foot, a swift few kicks to indicate he’d like to venture inside, but made no other noise, silent as the grave (that he should’ve been in by now), his throat stinging, his eyes burning.

He wasn’t even sure what to say when a favored form opened the door, except to hang his head again and drag himself within, bottles placed on a table, each one a heavy thump until his hands were free.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd / Outlander Advisor
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 11 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 39 - Luck: 40
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,506
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#2
There had been no words.

What words could encompass the fall of a goddess, and her potential demise? It did not matter whether one had loved or despaired of her, for she had been eternal and now...

Now she was gone.

Jigano could not say whether it was a temporary state or a permanent one; as she herself had reminded him, he knew little of the gods of Caido, how they truly worked and what they held dear. All he knew was that Amalia had loved the lady of the stars, ardently and all her life, and because of their actions both goddess and Tulmhainar were...

Lost.

He had stayed at her side after the goddess had blown to dust, saying nothing but offering everything that was in his heart through the Attuned link: his love and grief, his comfort and support - as she had supported him, not so long ago. In a raven's feathered form he had tucked himself close, and when they had reached the safety of the bakery he had taken the form of a man again, to help however he could. There was tea to make, and a gryphlet to let in so she could curl up in Amalia's lap, and bread to knead while minds race and spun in circles of shock and disbelief.

Everything else could wait.

The bard had been taking bread from the oven - only a little burned on the bottom, but otherwise salvageable - when a thumping came at the door that was most decidedly closed for business. Deimos looked as terrible as they all felt, somehow even worse than Jigano, the pair of them having received no Fae or deific healing though at least the bard hadn't been ravaged by fire. He sucked in a breath at the sight of the man - and promptly coughed as his wounded lungs protested.

The alcohol was welcome, but it was water that Jigano offered his big friend first, water for both of them to wash down and dilute the poison still haunting their throats, before he stepped back to give Amalia room to fuss over him, if she had the energy for it.
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Guild Master/Mercenary

Age: 23 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 16
AUNI - Regular - Luxere
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#3
KIADA

What a mess, Kiada thinks as she approaches the bakery. She doesn’t know what she expects to find upon her entry, but if it’s anything like Deimos’ insistence to return to the Spire after failing to call Safrin down for help, she thinks it’s going to be a very long and very tough night. And while Kiada doesn’t particularly drink enough to get drunk, with the events of what’s gone on, she imagines tonight is as good a night as any to give it a shot and get absolutely smashed.

She stops by the Rathskeller on the way to Amalia’s, stopping to get a few extra bottles of the harder liquid to drown their sorrows, before she makes her way to the bakery. She doesn’t see Deimos arrive, nor his sorrowed state, and she still manages to approach with a heavy heart (pinched and pulled at every corner with the uncertainty of what she’ll find) before she knocks on the hard wooden door.

The Harpy doesn’t give it more than a second after she’s knocked before she opens the shop and steps in, an arm full of bottles and that same hollowed look along her face. “I thought we could use this.” She says quietly, making her way to the table to drop off the liquid before turning to see how Jigano and Amalia ended up after it all.
Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#4

YOU SAID THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON
IT ROSE TOO SOON
AND WE'RE DOING WHAT WE SHOULD


Amalia does not have the energy to fuss.

She does not have the energy for much of anything.

When Jigano leads her home she follows blankly, guided through the Attuned bond to the only place that is still safe. And when they reach the bakery, when Jigano shifts back, Amalia drops any pretenses of having the ability to function, to care. Her mind is a blank slate, a willful ignorance and denial: she cannot think of the things that happened, because to think of them it so acknowledge her part, to admit that she has caused the disaster which occurred upon this day.

How long does she sit, silent, in the corner of the shop, a seat at the table occupied by her figure which somehow appears even slighter today, as though one strong breeze would cause her to crumble? Amalia is not injured, not physically at least, her wounds having been tended to by Safrin and the fae. But emotionally? In her soul? For a long time there has been a tear, a dark pit lurking in the girl's bright spirit. She thought, perhaps, she could eclipse it with light, could fill her life with enough piety and purpose, enough friendship and love, that the darkness would close off and she would feel complete.

Today Amalia learned the truth: she will never be illuminated, never be whole. She is a flawed construct of poor decisions, and left to her own devices, she will devour the world along with herself.

The girl does not look up as Deimos enters. She does not acknowledge Kiada. Amalia cannot understand why they are there. She is staring at Isuma, curled in her lap, her fingers pushing idly through the feathers and fur of the gryphlet's back. She does not look at any of them, because she cannot bear it, to see their disappointment - or worse, their sympathy, the affection and forgiveness she clearly does not deserve. She has failed and failed and failed again, monumentally, magnificently, her good intentions an electric car pushing her further down the road to hell.

Jyoti, however, rises from her position by Jigano, swimming toward the behemoth with a hopeful and mournful song, as though enticing him to come and save the girl who is sinking into the dark.

a m a l i a
You said it's life that moves too much
We're losing touch
But I'm not losing you


Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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#5
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
There was an empty, hollow feeling around the corridor. Despite the individuals contained within, strong, compassionate, stalwart, passionate in their appeals, there was the dwindling presence strangling along the void: life without the exuberance, festering, withering, a decay amidst the pride. His eyes, tired, haggard, worn, drifted from one to the other, pondering where they were supposed to go from here, in the room filled with smoke and silence. He could feel the rush of his lungs ache and brew, scathe and wring out the fortitude, the ambition, always crooning and howling behind his chest, in the nefarious annals and canals of his abhorrent heart. The hovering, harpooning measures clustered along his shoulders, and he stared into the unknown, into the stories left unsaid, into the reach of claws, daggers, and insects, sapped, vulnerable, when he wanted to be unleashed, when he wanted to destroy, when he wanted to pick apart the world again and again for daring to…

He ignored Jigano’s brief inhalation; the Reaper must’ve looked as though he’d been living death itself, instead of the mechanized weapon he so long preferred. It would’ve been easier to have been a colossal, detached machine inside that venomous fortress, maneuvering without pause, without feeling, without emotion, clinging to munitions and letting them reign over the structure, demolishing, consuming, devouring it whole. Perhaps then they wouldn’t have suffered. Perhaps then they wouldn’t have ached. Perhaps then some dreams wouldn’t have been shattered, left for dead.

The beast did take the offered water (despite the need for something stronger, to blind and languish the entire incident away) with a nod, incapable of saying anything for now – not when the instances were split apart and fuming. It was cool and satisfying across his lips, down his throat, sliding over the poison and the raw, bitter taste in his mouth, but did naught to assuage the experiences, the taut, rigid distortion echoing in their hushed quandaries. Kiada’s appearance was another appreciative interlude, and needing something to do with his hands, he shifted the extra bottles of liquor along the table, ensuring they were upright.

Then there was Amalia, quiet and shaded. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect, after everything, especially when he only had the pieces from his moments down in their homemade crypts and catacombs. But the sun wasn’t there, nor the stars, or any bright, blistering cosmos, except for Jyoti, a song on the whale’s blessing, enamoring and cajoling. A finger lifted to follow a pathway of stardust and light, maybe the only ones they’d receive that evening, before he pushed himself away from the table. It wasn’t easy – his muscles shook and his limbs quivered and every motion told him to stop, but he only shifted within a murmur; no hissing, no growling, no pain echoing past his mouth, when the misery throbbed and shook and tore through him. Only on a coiled, contorted measure did he finally cease, pulling out a chair beside the baker, placing himself in it like a shadow, like a piece of the darkness. His clothes, his body, his skin was singed, scorched, burnt, and charred, wounds slowly ceasing their agonizing trail of ichor – he was the embodiment of their physical suffering, but the rest seemed to hold the sentiments, the notions, the nuances – things that would come later for him, in his slumber, when he was by himself, allowed to scream without disturbing anyone else. One of his hands, still stained with blood, reached for one of hers, but his gaze pinpointed upon Jigano, lips finally maneuvering apart to break the unspoken chords. “What happened?”
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd / Outlander Advisor
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 11 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 39 - Luck: 40
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,506
MP:
#6
Kiada's presence was unexpected but sorely welcome, and the bard's expression softened at her entrance, grateful for both her unwounded self and the gifts she brought. He left Deimos to arrange the liquor and take a seat while he went to cut the fresh bread. No one would have appetite, yet they would all need to eat, to keep up their strength, to heal the wounds left on both body and soul. That much he could do, mechanically and without needing to think about it as his mind shied away from the day's events.

Deimos' burns were as worrying as his own gas-induced sores and wounds; more so, because the big man had endured both while the bard had only had to deal with one attack. "Will you pour, please?" he asked Kiada softly as he brought the bread over to the table, sitting across from Amalia and leaving the seat between them free for the harpy eagle. Isuma peeped quiet welcome to the friends who had come, but stayed nestled close on her leopard-sister's lap, offering softness and warmth and affection in her own way to support the girl whose heart bled more than any outer wound the men bore.

Four lost souls in a sinking ship, and none with the energy to bail out the inrushing water, Jigano thought wearily. Deimos' wounds would need tending soon, though he wasn't sure his friend would be in the mood to tolerate it. But before he could begin worrying about that the mountain spoke - to him, not the silent Amalia and he winced as the question threw his mind back to the awe and confusion and disbelief, the grief and denial of a mere few hours before.

"The Tulmhainar... could not be saved," he said quietly. "She did not want to be saved. She had been there, wounded and alone in the dark for too long. But... we had thought... we wanted to let her see the sky, the light, one last time." His explanation was as much for Kiada as Deimos as he took a slice of hot bread and began methodically reducing it to crumbs with his hands, an idle tic he wasn't even aware of. He kept his head down, but not so far that he couldn't steal glances at Amalia as he spoke, ready to stop speaking if it looked like she had something to say.

"She was..." he hesitated, then shrugged helplessly as words proved inadequate. "Impossible. A creature so old, so vast, in such a small body... it was as if she bore the weight of aeons, of worlds, on her shell. She could not make it to the stairs; we could not carry her to the sky. So... the sky came to her." He stopped again, taking a shuddering breath and coughing against his ravaged throat. "Safrin... Amalia warned me and I flew up the stairs, just as the goddess began to blast her way down. I don't know... the Voice was there so long, I don't think it was... I think the Spire resisted her," he stumbled through the memory, a vision brilliant and deadly and overwhelming such that he shuddered even now, hours later. "But somehow she... she did it. She tore the heart from the Spire, opened the basement to the sky so the Tulmhainar could see the sky and then she... she fell... and..."

He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut as he relived that sight. The impossibility of it, and the grief. The fear of watching a goddess fall, a star that glimmered and guttered out before his eyes. "And then she... she was gone," he said, voice barely a whisper as he opened his hands and let the crumbs fall to the table before him, shredded and lifeless on the wood.
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Guild Master/Mercenary

Age: 23 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 16
AUNI - Regular - Luxere
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 700
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#7
KIADA

Her heart yearns for those that dwell within the Bakery, for Jigano weary and bloodied and bruised, for Amalia who doesn’t even attempt to look at her as she steps in, to Deimos who had witnessed and dealt with so much in these short few hours. She yearns for them all, in her own way, unable to express it with words, but able to with actions. And with it, she listens silently to Jigano’s question and nods somberly. Taking a few glasses, she chooses the strongest alcohol to help ease the anger and frustration and pain all of them are feeling.

She pours herself one, about half full before pouring one for Jigano and listening as he recounts the story of what happened. Upon listening to what occurred to the Goddess of the Stars, Kiada then pours Amalia a glass (a bit more than hers and Jigano’s) as well as a tall glass for Deimos too. She leaves her cup by where she plans to sit, and begins to dish them out – first to Jigano with a small soft smile of understanding and thanks for explaining it (considering she had no idea they were even going there to begin with).

Turning to Amalia, she approaches the woman with the glass and aims to land a warm, soft hand on her shoulder to give her the cup. When she’s finished there, she turns to Deimos and gives him his cup as well with a lingering glance and slight half nod. Then, she sits and exhales loudly, taking in the information before downing her cup in one chug, feeling the alcohol burn down her throat. Clenching her teeth she sighs quietly and looks to Amalia to see what she has to say.
Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
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Posts: 1,971
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#8

YOU SAID THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON
IT ROSE TOO SOON
AND WE'RE DOING WHAT WE SHOULD


She is vaguely aware of Deimos beside her, his rough hand slipping into hers. She does not look up at him; she knows that if she did it would break her, pull away that final brick which holds her crumbling soul in place, leave her shattered upon the floor, a million broken pieces they should not have to clean up. She has done enough, damaged enough, hurt enough for one day. To condemn them to repair her after she has led them astray is insult to injury, a selfish cruelty she cannot justify.

Still, she is so very tired.

Jigano's story is a gentle retelling, but still it stings upon her ears, make her wince with each recalled mistake. All she had wanted was to rescue the lost, to save a soul so much older than them from a life of forced captivity. It had seemed so simple, so straightforward: with a purpose so clear, how did it go so wrong? Muddy water, smoke and wings; Amalia remembers each new onslaught, each attack upon her friends, the hell into which she led them all, stalwart and stupid and unthinking and naive.

And then there is Safrin - beautiful Safrin, bold Safrin, starlit daughter of Vi. Safrin, who gave her the world because she gave her faith, believed in Amalia when she could not believe in herself, and for what? The bakers hand tightens on Deimos' as the bard continues on, her eyes closing painfully as he says she tore the heart. At what cost, at what cost? the girl wants to scream. Was it worth it, in the end?

Because in the end, Safrin was gone. Amalia had felt her absence, had watched her dissolve away into stardust, into nothing, into dust. Where was she? Was she still alive? And would any of it have happened, have mattered, if the girl had not been so stubborn, so brazen, so quick to act and slow to think?

It should have been me. It should have been me. If anyone were to die, it should have been me.

Part of her wants to shrug off Kiada's hand; the other is grateful for its comfort, warm and soft upon her shoulder, a reminder that there are still others in the world. Amalia is not one to drink, but if she has ever needed one it is now, and so she takes her hand off Isuma and wraps it skeptically around the cup. The smell is acrid; the taste is worse, and the girl can only swallow a little before she is overtaken by coughs, her untrained throat unsure of how to deal with this attack. Still, it feels good to hurt, to burn herself with the poison. Another sip, this time accompanied only by a disgusted face; Amalia puts the cup down and sighs, finally rising her sable eyes to survey her gathered friends.

"Safrin isn't dead," the girl breathes, as much for her own benefit as all of theirs. There is steel in her voice, a hardened belief: it is true, it must be true, because she will not survive if it is false. Taking another unhappy sip, the girl closes her eyes. "I'm sorry it all went so poorly." I'm sorry I failed.

a m a l i a
You said it's life that moves too much
We're losing touch
But I'm not losing you


Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 1,831
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#9
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
The fathoms of his nefarious heart clawed, ached, as Jigano explained the circumstances after the Reaper’s departure, a sigh sliding unbidden from his chest, looking down at joined hands while the bard wove the despondent story. The tulmhainar went into the void, the great beyond, heavens and outstretched clouds, too fargone, too broken, too ancient, a primordial, primeval creature not meant to exist any longer, no matter how much effort they’d put into the sojourn. Then Safrin had joined in the reverie, striving to bring the sky to the earth, opening up the blistering abyss, and then a star fallen, gone from the constellations and Elysium. Gone. The understanding flanked and lacerated around his exhausted mind, the comprehension building and billowing from Amalia’s constant silence, her downcast eyes, the intertwining aches and anguish lingering well after the damage had been done. “Thank you,” he inclined to Jigano, incapable of mustering anything beyond the notion for the moment – caught and strangled by too many sentiments, circumstances, and emotions.

Because he’d never been in a god’s path, lit by stars, suns, time, or their machinations. They’d never wanted to do anything with him – and he’d learned what it was like to be naught in their eyes. He survived by carving his way through anything and everything, by devoting strength in his upheavals, in his pursuits, in his perseverance and fortitude.

But he’d never thought one would fall, sputtering from their fortresses, dimmed and vanished.

Kiada’s offering of a drink distracted him for an instant, returning her nod, the depth of his stare, the hundreds of inquiries and reassurances clambering around it, trying to make this all work again, but uncertain as to how. There was nothing else in the sphere, in the bakery, except the haunting weight of silence, except the clench and pull of disaster. Ruin – he was so familiar with it now that it shouldn’t have been poignant and heavy, but there it remained, locking him up in stone and desecration. His free hand took hold of the tall glass and chugged half of it, encouraging the burn down the back of his throat, the zeal and fervor of its torment into his being, punishment for punishment, waiting for it to numb his senses too. The other one grasped tighter on Amalia’s, an anchor, because that was all he could be now, trying hard to not let her sink into the abyss. He’s been there before, and the distinction of its clarity was abhorrent.

She was always the one who knelt before the deities, the beacons, praying, lending herself to their services. She was always the one they cherished, consecrated and anointed, loved and devoted because she was devoted – an admirable strength and quality, where he’d long since given up hope. And now what? he wanted to ask, the push and pull ricocheting through the cobwebs of his mind.

Then the baker finally raised her eyes, iron across her tongue, his eyes softening a shard and glancing at the floor, absorbing her steel and belief through words alone. He could believe her, when he couldn’t begin to place trust in the celestial beings. The warrior didn’t know if Safrin was dead or not, had no connection, had no bearing with stars and their favored – perceived and recognized the bounties of death and oblivion, but hardly anything else -  the words in his throat, an echo, meant to soothe, meant to conspire amidst the gathered. It had to be something besides the grief, the aches, and the pains. “She is not,” he affirmed with no bearing, no weight, no way to comprehend. When she presumed to take the cumbersome load of the failure upon her figure, he aimed to cease it. “It is not your fault. You did not know the tulmhainar’s fate.” Or that goddesses made mistakes too – strangely human despite everything else.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd / Outlander Advisor
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 11 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 39 - Luck: 40
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,506
MP:
#10
He managed a wan, almost-smile for Kiada as the alcohol was brought around, and once the tale was done he took his glass in hand and tossed it back with the ease of long practice—
Or it would have been ease, had the gas not left his throat raw and wounded. He hissed, grimacing as the alcohol burned against skin still stinging from the poison, but it was a welcome pain, reminding him that he was alive – they all were – when the price of the day could have been so much steeper. Then again, a goddess fallen into stardust was steeper than he had ever expected.

Amalia’s voice was a welcome reprieve, even as Isuma looked up at the baker with worried golden eyes. Certainty filled her quiet words, a belief that put the Oracle to shame as he bowed his head and Deimos answered for them all. ”You had to try,” he added gently. ”We all did. We could not leave a creature suffering in darkness down there, alone and forgotten…” He hesitated, looking around the table, and then reaching for the bottle Kiada had brought, pouring another round in each of their glasses. ”And neither could Safrin,” he added his voice managing to soften further. ”She knew what she was doing. She could have stopped, if she did not believe it worth doing. Whatever price she paid… she chose to pay it, Amalia. As you and Kiada chose to come with me to the Greatwood.” A gentle reminder of the guilt he carried over what had happened to her, that she had absolved him from. ”And as the Tulmhainar chose to let herself fade, rather than endure the darkness any longer.”

There was more, the gears of his mind slipping and catching doggedly again after hours of shocked numbness and mechanical reactions, but for the moment he swallowed them back along with the alcohol – grain alcohol? Potato? Fuck it, all the mattered was how strong it was, and it certainly tasted highly flammable – and let his worry and care for the people around the table pulse slow and steady through the Attuned bond, even if Deimos couldn’t feel it.
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Guild Master/Mercenary

Age: 23 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 18 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 16
AUNI - Regular - Luxere
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 700
MP:
#11
KIADA

She can almost feel the sorrow as it pushes through the air from Amalia, and as the alcohol settles in her stomach, she feels the burn and warmth in her arms and face. Her cheeks blush as she listens to Deimos and Jigano in turn, watching as the silver haired man pours them all another round. She takes it easily, swinging it back until it’s gone as she clenches her teeth against the sting. The alcohol she’d brought was definitely stronger than anticipated. Her lack of a tolerance for it is another story, something she doesn’t realize until she turns her head quickly toward Amalia to begin to ask a question when her peripheral vision blurs with the movement.

She takes a moment to ground herself again, eyes lingering on her motherly figure. “Jigano’s right; it’s not your fault Amalia.” She says, using the Leopardess’ name for the first time. “Everyone knew what could happen when they approached the Spire, you just didn’t take it into account. But it happens. Safrin probably knew too.  She probably just needs some rest and she’ll be back.” Her voice has a bit of a slurring edge to it as she rambles, her face grows slightly redder.

Deimos has a unicorn now so that should help the next time you go and face the unimaginable; I know you guys won’t stop going where you probably shouldn’t. But the unicorn fixed his arm up perfectly.” She rambles, sitting up and placing her hands palm down onto the table, realizing they probably didn’t know about it but it was too late now. “There was a landshark—I think— and it bit his arm! There was bone and everything just poking out and he’s fine now because of the unicorn!” Her eyes fell onto Deimos with an almost shit eating grin before she looked down at herself to see if she was still covered in his blood. “Gods, it was brutal.
Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Hand of the Queen / Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 12 - Strg: 34 - Dext: 34 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 34
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
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#12

YOU SAID THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON
IT ROSE TOO SOON
AND WE'RE DOING WHAT WE SHOULD


Their reassurances do not good. Distantly, Amalia is appreciative, understanding of what they are trying to do. But it is a kindness she does not deserve or need, misplaced pity and powerless platitudes. Frowning down into her drink, the devastated baker simply sighs, shaking her head unhappily before taking another painful sip. It is what she deserves, this burning ache, to lose herself in the well of liquid, her mind and mentality set aside. Their reassurances swim in her head, electric eels searing her with every syllable, every word. 'It is not your fault' (except it is), 'We all had to try' (except they didn't), 'Safrin will be back' (but what if she's not?), 'Deimos has a unicorn' (but-

wait now, what?
)

This, at last, makes Amalia blink, her head snapping up to stare at Kiada, brain spinning slightly from the liquor's effect. "What?" she asks, not sure she heard right, blinking rapidly between the pair. Unicorn - landshark - exposed bone... turning to face the man by her side, Amalia's face is flushed with concern. "Are you okay?" the girl demands, her despondency momentarily forgotten as she reaches out with tender hands to grab her lover's arms. "Why didn't you say anything? When did it happen? Where's the unicorn now?" A barrage of questions flies from her lips, the liquor loosening them dramatically.

Her eyes stay on him, hands traveling up his arms, not terribly concerned about the other watching as she searches for other signs of wounds. And when at last she is satisfied the girl shuts her eyes, letting her head fall to his chest before exhaling a deep sigh. "Gods, if I lost you - if I lost any of you -" She trails off, glancing back at Jigano and Kiada, unspoken passion in her voice. This is why she is a fool: because she keeps putting those she loves in danger, then losing hope when they are lost. It was her fault they wound up in this situation; it is her fault Deimos was further hurt; it is her fault Safrin might be gone forever; it is her fault, her fault, her fault.

Leaning her head on Deimos' chest, Amalia forces herself not to cry.

a m a l i a
You said it's life that moves too much
We're losing touch
But I'm not losing you


Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 29 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 28
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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#13
D e i m o s
Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass
Even if no one wanted to hear them, reassurances were all he had. He couldn’t account for their experiences, he couldn’t fault them for their trials, and he couldn’t muster a way to fix anything. The Reaper was useless, worthless, into these idle parameters and bleak moments, just another presence in the bakery, taking up space and air, listening as Jigano strived, as Kiada attempted. Perhaps they’d simply played the wrong game this time, thought to move mountains when it should have been hills, thought to seek shelter when they should have watched their backs; and it would be a lesson, a trial, a tribulation, sinking and simmering into their bones.

He was caught out of the miserable connotations, however, by Kiada’s slurred speech – his eyes riveted on her, a quick perusal, a swift study, concluding she couldn’t hold her liquor. There was a notion to snatch the remaining bottles out of her grasp, taking hold of his and downing the dregs, but by the time he’d finished, it was much too late.

Deimos has a unicorn now blurted from her rambling tones and then all the other revelations after: a landshark gnawing at his flesh until it’d peeled back skin, sinew, and flesh, marrow exposed, the short grasp of defeat shuttering over his munitions, the notion that the end had come again and he’d simply been too stupid to see it rampaging towards him on light and earth. He took an instant to glare at her shit-eating grin, to truly embody the decadent, enigmatic pathways of the Reaper, king of the mountains, stones, and secrets, before lowering his gaze entirely. He’d never been one for being the center of attention, for imploring everyone’s fixation and riveted stances in his direction, content to hide in the depths of shadows, satisfied when he’d accomplished his tasks. It was Amalia’s reaction that made him truly wince, sheepish, disheartened, the concern and apprehension back on her features as he dared to look up. “I did not think it was an appropriate time.” The warrior shrugged the event off, because the details had already been proffered into the evening’s air, and there wasn’t much else he could provide – between the sorrows and deity disappearances, they’d all had enough of armaments and battle scars for the day. He was used to keeping everything to himself anyway, bundled and coiled and tethered to his chest, to his essence, to his soul, but apparently, amongst friends, they expected some form of the tale. His stare briefly lifted to Jigano, almost a plea, but it didn’t matter. There was no saving him from the endeavor, Amalia’s hands on his arms, apprehension on her lips, a sigh floating into the threshold. “After I left the Spire, I went to summon Safrin, as you asked.” They all must’ve known she hadn’t come – he’d been on the ground, kneeling like a fool, bleeding into the soil. “Kiada came and would not let me return to get all of you.”

He arched a brow back at her, but then his stare dropped, recalling the remaining chords. “I was ignoring her request when a landshark came across the land, chasing a unicorn. Kiada and I went to fight it off. We were…moderately successful.” If by moderate, he meant that the Harpy had dug into its skin, and he’d thrown a knife, and then a blade, and it hadn’t been enough (like always, like forever, like eternity). “The landshark attempted to gnaw my arm off. The unicorn healed me.”

Then her gilded head was on his chest and he felt so foolish, so inept, so utterly incapable. Her words trailed off but they were enough to stab into him – lacerate and cut, bludgeon and devastate. But maybe now was the time for something light-hearted, a way to ease the torment floating into their lives – his hands tugged on hers, and his head was raised again, a question for all of them. “Would you like to see her?”
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd / Outlander Advisor
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 11 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 38 - Endr: 39 - Luck: 40
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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Posts: 3,506
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#14
Kiada’s support – everyone’s support – for Amalia warmed the bard, but he slanted a concerned glance at the Harpy as her words began to slur. He hadn’t expected the alcohol to hit her so fast, or with so little needed, but his surprise took on a different turn entirely when she mentioned the unicorn. And the landshark. The word alone sent a shiver down his spine, but the effect on Amalia was far more important. For the first time she seemed to shake out of her fugue and reach out, fussing over Deimos more like he had hoped she would when the mountain had arrived at the bakery’s door. He could almost smile, even, as her questions poured out like a fresh round of shots.

He caught Deimos’s look, but could only offer the slightest shake of his head. The big man might not like being the center of attention, but if it broke through Amalia’s sadness he wasn’t going to distract her. Besides, his girlfriend was allowed to worry and fuss over him when he did something crazy and dangerous, and fighting a landshark certainly qualified for both! ”A unicorn…” he murmured, still finding it hard to believe after everything else that had happened that day. It felt surreal, like something from a dream, but Deimos filled in the gaps that Kiada’s tipsy tale had inconveniently left out.

He nodded at his friend, and then gave Amalia a soft nudge through the Attuned link, sending warmth and love back to her, as she had once done for him. His words, however, were spoken aloud so all could hear. ”And we would feel the same if we lost you,” he pointed out gently. ”We cannot live without risk, but…” he glanced to Deimos, a weary smile plucking bravely at his lips. ”A unicorn for a friend is certainly one way to make things a little safer.” For brave, enduring Deimos, a man who made himself both sword and shield, the bard could think of no finer companion, and he bowed his head in agreement to the invitation. He rose, the alcohol barely making a dent in the tolerance of a man who had made his living in taverns for more than half a decade, and offered Kiada a gallant arm, even as Isuma crawled up to Amalia’s shoulder, peeping at her big sister encouragingly.

”Lead the way whenever you’re ready.”


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