wash away our sore eyed souls
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Mercenary
Age: 22 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 2 - Strg: 17 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 13 - Luck: 8
AUNI - Regular - Luxere
Played by: Skylark Offline
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Posts: 193
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#15
KIADA

The Harpy, by no means, drinks often if at all. It’s no surprise, really, that the liquid hits her so hard so fast, especially the way she can feel her stomach rumble as she eyes the breads briefly. Her gaze lifts to Amalia as she speaks, and Kiada can’t help but keep the grin on her face. “Right?” She says as though it’s in disbelief too, as though she’d needed to be pinched to realize it were real life. But when Amalia begins to fuss over Deimos, and Deimos shoots her that glare of daggers, she sits back in her chair a bit and raises the glass to him before chuckling quietly to herself.

She listens to Deimos’ tale, as though he blames her for not returning to find Amalia when her chuckles die and she frowns simply. “I probably would’ve fought you to stay, to be honest.” She shrugs, glancing to Jigano and Amalia apologetically. “I love you guys, but he was in rough shape to go back, and –” she pauses abruptly, looking to Deimos with that similar stare he had given her. “– who knows if you would’ve even gone back in time? What if no one was there?” She replies, before her eyes flit away from Deimos toward the bottle to pour herself another drink, because why not? She’s feeling pretty good right now.

When Deimos asks Amalia if she wants to see it, Kiada’s gaze flickers toward Jigano as he stands and offers an arm before she leans forward a bit. “Can’t she just come in? Auni comes in all the time and Isla goes into the infirmary of all things?” She drawls, huffing to herself slightly before she takes a deep sip from her glass and stands slowly. “Oh, side note about that, Auni would love to meet her. He wanted to hang out with Isla but, you know, since he kind of accidentally killed her he always just feels bad when he sees her.” She rolls her shoulders again in a slight shrug before looking to Jigano with a bright grin, as though she news of what she’d said about her own Luxere was common knowledge. “Deimos' unicorn is pretty though.” She adds.
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Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Baker ☆ Loreseeker's Guild
Age: 21 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 19 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 25
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
Played by: charks Offline
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#16

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


"Good," is all she says in reply to Kiada's refusal to let Deimos back in, nodding to show that she bears no ill will toward the girl. Indeed, she is grateful- after a point there was nothing any of them could do, and to risk one other would have been too much, too much, too much for her to bear. Her heart breaking a little at the mention of Safrin, Amalia swallows down a new lump of bile. "She heard you. She told me so, before..." Before she fell, she does not conclude. It is still too painful to look at, to think. Slipping her hand into the behemoth's, the girl once more closes her head and sighs. The world is spinning a little already. She does not think she can bear for it to crumble any more.

A landshark, a unicorn, a tulmhainar, the Spire. What a mistifying day it has been for them all. At last leaning away from Deimos, Amalia looks back at her cup, surprised to find it empty. She can feel it burning in her belly, dulling the ache of fear and loss. It takes her a moment to hear his question, but when it does get through the fog of her mind the baker glances up with a vivid blink. "See her?" she repeats, as though this was the strangest and most wonderful thing she has heard today. "It's- she's- here?" Rising unsteadily to her feet, one hand reaching up to steady Isuma, the gilded girl looks around. "How big is she? She can come inside- did you really leave her out there?" But she isn't judging, isn't angry: it is something close to laughter in her voice, almost happy, almost relieved.

Almost.

Grabbing hold of Deimos' hand, Amalia makes a beeline for the front door of the shop, ready to throw it open and meet the newest member of their little family, prepared to offer it all the love in her fractured heart, just as she does for everyone else.

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


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Deimos Ignatius
Soldier / Mercenary ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 25 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 19 - Luck: 12
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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#17
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 clamor on him, on his faults, on his offenses, on his inability to get back to the Spire via Kiada’s insistence seemed to spark some sort of camaraderie  - jovial and glad he couldn’t return. He took another long swig of his drink and wished it would burn him right there on the spot, the we cannot live without risk statement spearing and harpooning him somewhere in the middle. What if no one was there? they prodded and made sense, even in the Harpy’s drunken state, and he had half an inclination lower his head and pout, sulk, brood, feeling no need to answer the inquiries. Not now. Not when they’d survived and made it past this point, dug deep into their sorrow and were left out in the open, fending for themselves. Kiada’s rambling diatribes though did cause him to raise his brows, lift his skull, because he hadn’t heard that particular tale of LongNight, and things made a lot more sense, even with the plunge of alcohol coiling itself amidst their gathering.

Even still, when he stood up from the chairs, from the tables, one hand enclosed in the baker’s, he grabbed hold of the remaining liquor near Kiada and shoved it into his arms – the shallowest snicker touching over his lips.

Then, despite all the predilections, the exhaustion, the mental fatigue, they still wanted to see his companion. His companion - bizarre and confounding, but still no less real, a tangible, corporeal thing right outside the door. Placing the bottles down on the floor, he opened the bakery door, out into the vivid, cool evening, a press of chill curling against his skin, a promise of something from another time, another world (and he almost went back to it, right then and there) – the unicorn rising from her guarding position.

Unspoken, unsaid, because there were connections and bonds now, the mare took hold of the invitations and presided in with little to no fanfare: a recognizable staff clutched in her maw. She dropped it into his waiting (sheepishly) grasp, before her own remarkable blue gaze took in the rest of them. The darker layers of her silver coat were varnished in the crisp moonlight, traced over foundations of earth and spirits and essences of enigmatic, ethereal, otherworldly connotations – something he didn’t deserve, wasn’t worthy of, a notion he rekindled and incensed over and over, struggling, striving, to remind everyone and everything that he was naught, he was naught –

“This is Zuriel,” he offered into the hushed platitude, allowing Amalia’s inquiries to be answered by the sight of the animal alone. The noble beast dipped her head, and rounded her stare to the baker first, just the touch of mischief emboldening her features as they slid back to the Reaper in the most knowing candor and veracity.

She shared his mind, after all.

This is the one… she murmured and teased, and he shifted off to the side, while the mare went to bow her head before Amalia, a soothing, assuaging blessing glowing from the tip of her sapphire horn. The shield of Safrin she crooned, and the beast’s eyes narrowed, perplexed but only for a moment, and then the unicorn billowed a very soft breath in Amalia’s hair, watching the loosened tassels work their way upward, bemused.

Satisfied for now, she advanced upon Jigano, diligent in her impending, healing properties, following with the same pattern, the same ritual, as she advanced, attempting to mend what had been broken, what had been gnarled, what had been gnashed out there in the Spire. The bard? she intonated - such impressive knowledge she clucked back and forth, and the Reaper fought not to roll his eyes. Zuriel raised her head and extended out her ivories to nip at the clothing along the man’s shoulder, tugging and pulling because she could –

And then there was Kiada – looking only a little worse for wear with the apparent drunkenness, but the unicorn paid no mind. The assuaging process followed her there too, lowering her head to brush against the girl’s cheek, firebrand, the youth who dared to stand up to the warrior, especially when he was being ridiculous. Quite brave, earning the equine’s approval, a slow wink, before she returned to the center of the bakery, done with her business.

“Show off,” Deimos mumbled.
For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate
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Jigano Silversmith
Provost / Lorekeeper ☆ Loreseeker's Guild
Age: 28 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 7 - Strg: 14 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 30 - Luck: 25
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
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#18
Jigano tilted his head, a flicker of amusement breaking through his weariness at how quickly Kiada had gotten tipsy. From her appearance as a hardened warrior he would have expected her to drink Deimos under the table. This side of her was unexpectedly endearing, and his lips quirked into a tired smile at her offhanded mention of loving him and Amalia. ”I’m not sure he was any safer with the landshark,” the bard pointed out, a hint of his old teasing making it into his tone, even as he slipped a fond glance to Amalia’s quiet approval of the Harpy’s protectiveness. He understand exactly where she was coming from…

But he also understood how Deimos must have felt, and knew he would have done the same in his tall friend’s place.

Seeing a unicorn was a far brighter prospect than dwelling on the morning’s events, especially since he would have to bring them up again soon enough. The point about Isla was well-made, but then, Isla had been a human before she had been a unicorn, with a human’s understanding of common sense behavior in a building, and a human’s sharp intellect, even in her new body. But Kiada also had a good point about Auni (and for that matter, Isuma and Jyoti).

It was the second time Isla’s name fell from the Harpy’s lips that struck Jigano to stillness, eyes widening in surprise. He’d heard something of that night from Sam, but he hadn’t made the connection between Auni and Isla’s death. The wound was no longer raw, but it still hurt, and he drew in a sharp, interrupted breath, the world spinning sideways as he remained at the table while the others headed for the door. He followed them automatically, if slowly, glassy-eyed and trying to fit the tearing open of that emotional scab into the rest of the day’s griefs and losses. Amalia had come back to life again, or a semblance of it, and Isuma purred encouragingly on her shoulder, but the chatty bard had gone silent and still as they all ambled to the door and then back in again, joined by a significantly larger presence.

So lost was he in the past that it wasn’t until the touch of Zuriel’s horn that he started out of his reverie, the poison washing from his eyes, his throat, his blood beneath her ministrations. ”Thank you, Lady Zuriel,” he murmured, blinking back a betraying flicker of tears as he focused on the unicorn who had chosen Deimos, seeing her for herself and not the black-furred form that had once been his friend. He could not look at Auni, innocent creature that he was, not under the weight of Kiada’s revelation, but instead he turned to pour himself another double shot and knock it back, seeking the numbness that strong alcohol could bring.

”There is… something else,” he began hesitantly, trying to force himself to concentrate on the present and the future. A future that might well hold more death and grief for all of them… ”The last thing the Tulmhainar told me before she died. Something that… that we may need, now more than ever.” He took a deep breath, his first one untainted by poison, and relished it for a moment because he blew it out again. ”We need to go back down there again.” He couldn’t look at Amalia, and Kiada’s words still stung, so it was Deimos his eyes sought out, grim and pleading as he met his friend’s gaze.
Only simple tables without images or background colors when threading, please. It's much appreciated!
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