[SE] Love from the other side

Most delivery jobs were pretty straightforward: take box, bag, letter, or item from point A to point B and put it in the hands of its intended recipient. Sometimes the specifics got a little weird (catching and delivering a living tree flit to Flora had been an adventure), but Tal did his best to follow the customer's directions.

Or to refuse to take the commission upfront if he knew he couldn't complete it for one reason or another.

This was the first time he'd been asked to deliver something to dead person, however, complicated by the fact that he hadn't known the recipient was dead at the time he accepted the commission. The customer had conveniently left that little bit of information off when they'd asked him to deliver a rose bush "for their grandmother in Mourn, just look for the little bronze statue of the rearing unicorn."

Tal had foolishly assumed the statue was outside their grandmother's house.

Well, it was his first time in Mourn, so how could he have known? And what with the world going ass over teakettle again it wasn't like he'd had a lot of free time to do much research! Which was a lot of words to say that here he was today, under the bright Longheat sun, with a live rose bush in a bucket beside him while he grumbled and used a too-small shovel from his Bag to try and dig a hole to drop the root ball into so some old bag in Mort's Halls could occasionally peek into the mortal realm and admire her new flowers.

Boreal - a pale dragon built like a mastiff - who was usually far too eager to dig, had promptly decided it was too hot for her fragile constitution and had wedged herself under a nearby bench to doze in the shade while her human played in the dirt.

"Sure, an' where was this stayin' out o' th'mud when we were in th'Feverlands?" Tal grumbled fondly at his companion as he tossed another clod of dirt over his shoulder.

~Open!~

Oh, you say you have to fall apart to really be someone

"If you don't get muddy in the Feverlands, have you ever really been there?" The rhetorical question carried a note of amusement, issued from pale lips beneath a shock of pale hair that partly obscured the woman's eyes as she bent down to pick up the crumbling dirt. It had hit her legs as she approached, leaving a stain of clay and dust on an already travel-stained coat far too warm for the season. Dropping the dirt off into the flowerbed, shockingly white fingers dusted off the dirt and disappeared into deep pockets, probably large enough to fit a small puppy if she really tried.

"Is that your dragon? Can I pet it?" She didn't try to approach, wary of antagonizing the sturdy little predator, but a longing stare towards the pale creature beneath the bench betrayed her desire to. Perhaps because Maea had always loved dragons, or perhaps because it was much like herself in color - either way, it had been enough to lure her into conversation with this stranger, despite an acquired distrust that made it hard to look at him directly.

Base by Odd

"Oh shit!" Tal looked over his shoulder sharply at the unexpected voice, taking in her pale appearance and then the dirt that clung to her coat. "Fuckin' hail, sorry about that," he mumbled, pausing in his digging. His hands tightened on the shovel as he turned properly around to face her, unsure whether to let go or offer to help, and in the end doing neither as the woman cleaned herself off and straightened up again.

Boreal had opened one pale eye to appraise the newcomer, snorting sleepily at the same time that Tal did at the question, the two in synch with each other even when one was half-asleep. "It's a 'she' an' you're not gonna have much choice," he said, giving the Ancient fair warning.

Indeed, the dragon was already wriggling her way out from the bench so she could stretch and give a jaw-cracking yawn of her broad, blunt muzzle. As she shook herself out and rose to her full height, her shoulders were the same height as Tal's hip and she was solidly muscled with a thick neck and deep chest. She ambled over to Maea and promptly began to sniff at the woman's pockets with friendly optimism that one of them might contain a treat she could cadge. "Her name's Boreal," he offered, a little wary of this ghostly newcomer in Mourn. "An' she just ate a couple hours ago, so don't believe her actin' hungry." Though of course, she always had room for treats!

Oh, you say you have to fall apart to really be someone

"No harm done," she said mildly, about the added dust, "I've had far worse things thrown at me." A bit of dirt was nothing to make a fuss about, especially since it had been unintentional. Maea watched the dragon rather than the man anyway, aware of his consternation and more than used to it; any discomfort gave way to a soft smile as the companion came up to greet her.

Allowing the dragon to search her pockets for crumbs, the Ancient crouched down to balance on the balls of her feet, and produced a dry cheese rind as an offering. "Hello Boreal," she breathed, something akin to awe in her voice, and in the reverant way she ran a hand over the pale scales. "You are a beauty, aren't you. I wish I had something better to offer... but the downside of traveling light is the lack of snacks along the way."

She could easily spend the whole day absorbed in the exquisite detail of wings and talons, scales and spikes. A good chunk would have disappeared too, if she hadn't been acutely aware of the dragons bonded and his no doubt growing curiosity. Or alarm - she did tend to unnerve some people. She glanced over after a while and looked between the shovel, the hole and the rootbound rose, before politely meeting the man's gaze.

"The plant.. is it for a loved one?" The question was gently placed, as she would be reluctant to cause undue distress if it was a sore subject. She certainly had her own grief buried in similar soil; last time Maea dug in this garden it hadn't been to plant roses.

Base by Odd

As you approach the vast rolling hills of marked and unmarked burial mounds and shrines, you see it. A figure..so familiar..so…wait. You recognize it. Not it, them. Surely it’s {insert dead person here} ? Turning, they look at you, real enough to touch. That’s when their features burst apart into a whirl of black smoke.

---

You’ve encountered am Enera. This counts as a rare creature encounter for the purposes of levelling, but does not count as a Random Event for levelling or MP. There will be no further admin/re intervention. If you choose to follow this creature, you do so at your own risk, however, just having it in this thread is enough to satisfy your levelling requirements. You may not kill your rare creature without admin permission.

Enenra (rare/mythical) - Cousins of the Banshee, Enenra are creatures of smoke and vapour who possess a shapeless form, when they attack they generate a physical body of any appearance they like.

She’d had worse things thrown at her? Hearing that didn’t make Tal any less wary, though Boreal certainly didn’t seem to care. The dragon made a happy grumbling noise as she was petted, accepting the cheese rind with surprising daintiness for such a big, blocky reptile. She might not understand the nuances of the pale Ancient’s speech, but she certainly knew what the tone meant and she leaned into the attention with a proud arch to her neck as if to say I am beautiful, aren’t I? Tal just snorted at his companion’s antics, but he didn’t relax enough to get back to work just yet.

The weirdly pale woman didn’t seem to be a ghost, at least, if Boreal’s contented rumbles were anything to go by (and the cheese rind seemed reassuringly real), but she was still a stranger. He met her eyes with the caution of a courier who had survived more than one attempted waylaying in the Wilds, but the question had him blinking in surprise. It sure wasn’t what he’d expected her to ask!

”Uh… I mean, technically, yeah? Just not one o’ mine,” he admitted. ”Took a job deliverin’ this,” he gestured at the rose bush with his shovel, ”t’someone’s grandma. Only they didn’t mention she was kinda, y’know… dead.” He scowled at the rose bush and then at the little unicorn statue. ”But I already took payment, so…” He trailed off, scowl lightening a little at the memory of the fine panes of glass he’d gotten in trade. Those were going to go nicely in the windows of the new house he was building…

”Is that what you’re out here doin’? Visitin’ someone’s, uh…” His throat closed suddenly as he looked over the woman’s shoulder, seeing another person approaching. Boreal shouldered her way past Maea, a growl suddenly rumbling up from her chest as she spread her wings and crouched, tense and watchful. Tal didn’t notice his companion’s reaction; his pale eyes went wide in shock and his breath seized in his chest as he croaked out a single, trembling: ”Dad?” before the body burst apart in a swirl of dark vapor.

The courier’s silence lasted roughly three heartbeats before the word exploded out of him: ”Fuck!” as he slammed the shovel angrily into the ground at his feet, shoulders shaking as he glared after the vanishing wisps of smoke.

Oh, you say you have to fall apart to really be someone

She listened with her head tilted to the side, amused by the odd request and the courier's disgruntled diligence. "Admirable of you to come all the way out here," she commended him. "No one would know if you tossed the shrub in a ditch... yet here you are, anyway." It spoke of a kind of work ethic and sense of duty that Maea remembered in her father and brother, once upon a time. Back when hard work and stubborn resilience was the only kind of honor that mattered, and battle was fought against hunger, darkness and the merciless elements only. Recognizing some of that spirit in this man, it had her ease a bit, enough to offer a quiet smile against his wariness.

"Mmh, not quite - " About to answer his return question, Maea frowned when the courier's gaze went out to something behind her. Unlike him, she took the dragon's growl as a sign to make ready for a fight. One hand fell to the chakram at her belt as the Ancient woman spun around - and froze, at the sight of the figure that came walking towards them. A glimpse was all she caught; of a woman, short of stature with a rainbow shimmer of wings about her, and fierce eyes burning across time and space, boring into the depth of her being even all these years later... until the figure broke apart and was gone.

Ashen faced and trembling, she flinched at the clang of the shovel hitting the ground. "Easy," she murmured, when the man started swearing; her fingers shook as she let go of her weapon, but forced herself to yield it anyway. There was nothing left to fight. "Don't let it get to you. Let's... let's get that rose planted, and then I think it's time to leave. Even Morn isn't safe all the time."

Shaking herself like a wet dog, she approached the hole and bent down to pick up the shovel, to hand it back to the man. "I have a shift... I can help dig, but I don't want to alarm you. Would you mind if I use it?"

Base by Odd

"Yeah, well, I'm a Seawright, ain't I?" Tal mumbled, ducking his head and shifting his weight awkwardly at the compliments to his work ethic. His definitely subtle way to change the topic and turn the conversation back to the stranger a moment later even seemed to be working!

...Right up until the damned spook showed up and shattered the tentative peace of the afternoon. No matter how sensible her soothing words were, Tal was anything but 'easy' about how the Enenra had played with his emotions, reaching into his chest and hooking its claws into his heartstrings before yanking on them and breaking open old scars that he'd thought long-since healed.

But it was gone before he could do anything about it, leaving his frustration no other outlet than impotent violence and harmless curses.

"Yeah, well, it did get t'me an' it can go fuck itself," he fumed, hands balled into fists as he scowled out across the sunlit hills it had disappeared back into. He roughly swiped his knuckles under his nose, blinking away the sting in his eyes before realizing that the woman had moved in front of him and was offering his shovel back. Her calming words finally seemed to start sinking in as he looked down at the tool and then took it with a hand that still had a little shake in it.

He resolutely pretended not to see it.

"...'anks," he mumbled gruffly, the gratitude slipping out with prickly reluctance as he glared down at the rose bush that was the cause of it all so he didn't accidentally glare at her instead. "Yeah, s'okay. I know a few Ancients. Doesn't bother me." Which was only a small lie, and one he shoved aside as he jammed the shovel back into the hole to lever out some more dirt, flinging it with unnecessary vitriol in the direction the Enenra had vanished.

"Uh. So what're y'doin' here, anyways?"

Oh, you say you have to fall apart to really be someone

She didn't have to ask what it meant to be a Seawright. She was of a family too. Knew the expectations, knew that pressure - knew the pride and steadfastness it took to evoke the clan name. As the last of the Valair household, Maea wished she could still speak like that. But who knew what it meant, anymore? The Valairs were a fragment of a bygone era, dead almost ten years hence - and the world as they knew it had changed forever.

Some of that melancholy lingered in her mind as she watched the courier battle with his emotion. Maea envied him the freedom of expression; how he didn't see a need to pretend, how raw and earnest the anger and shock and sorrow was. Her own hands were shaking too, but instead of acting out she simply swallowed the sentiments stirred up by the Enenra and felt it settle into her core as a lump of ice. Familiar and numb, whispering shadows that muttered words of guilt and blame and ineptitude into her ears. Why had she come here? What had she thought would happen? Maea wasn't even surprised to see a semblance of Nephele, because the Fae had been haunting her thoughts every step through Morn. Always did, always would be.

"I came to visit the grave of a woman who tried to kill me," Maea replied. Detached and with a faraway look to her eyes as she stared at the pit, she knew she probably ought to lie, or at least omit the details... but the truth tumbled from her lips as if speaking them aloud might bring some kind of salvation on her.
"I used to be Ascended. It was after the call to arms, when the war had become an inevitable thing... tension was running high everywhere and I suppose she thought it justified to take out an enemy before I could become a problem." Glancing over her shoulder towards a different hill, where paths converged and a grave had been dug by bloodstained hands in the pouring rain, Maea could neither sigh nor cry. "Sometimes... if wonder if I should have let her win."

But she had not. She had fought for her life, and survived, and been able to return home to someone who had been waiting. The regret she felt came only from the senseless hatred, and the life lost, and her own role in the conflict - villain to a former friend, enemy to one who had prayed to the same gods. They could have been Allis fighting on the same side, yet one had died and the other... well.

Shaking her head, Maea all but fled into the shape of the molten tiger. Melted into the white body and felt strengthened by its supple grace, its predatory calm. A moment she warred with the impulse to sate a mild craving with the man, but thought better of it because of the Dragon that had bonded with him. Her claws were not designed for digging, but the ground was soft enough that it gave way easily enough. Maea hoped her company would keep some distance; the heat shimmering off the blued steel stripes already had the plants around her wilting, and angry hissing started up whenever the liquid metal sloughed off.

How deep did rose roots need to be planted? How sturdy did they get? Oak or willow,  prairie grass or something else entirely? Maybe if she was like the grass in a meadow, it would be easy to rise again whenever someone stepped on her. Unless, she was fated to be the wildfire, laying devastation wherever she went - so that others could rise from the ashes.

Base by Odd

Well, he'd asked. He just hadn't expected... you know. That. Tal blinked and opened his mouth, then slowly closed it again, not knowing what to say to that particular revelation. There were questions, but they bubbled without falling into coherent order and in his confused silence she continued, adding more details that might have had him bristling a few years back.

Now? Well. The Ascended had lost the War, lost their goddess, and as stubborn as Tal was, his vendettas still needed fuel to keep them burning. Even if he'd had the energy to spare to stay mad in the months and year of rebuilding that had followed the cracking apart of the continent, he had lost it in the past few weeks, as a second round of rebuilding from the waves that had rocked the world had sent fresh devastation over the land.

"That, uh... that sounds rough, lady." The sheer surprise at the unfolding tale did more to shake him out of his anger at the Enenra than anything else could have, and though he still shot occasional scowls over his shoulder, it was softened by his sheer puzzlement with the Ancient as she shifted into a molten tiger.

Tal didn't quite flinch, but he had very distinctly unpleasant memories of trying to get molten stripe drippings from a tiger once, as part of another pain-in-the-ass delivery for someone in Torchline, and he swallowed hard and watched as she moved in to take over the digging. Oddly, he looked completely unfazed by the heat rolling off her--

Until he saw the leaves on the nearby rosebush starting to curl. "Shit!" He made a dive to scoop it up by its root ball and pull it a safe distance away, but he didn't quite manage it without a few scratches on his arms for his trouble. Boreal just huffed and shook her broad, heavy head at him and finally padded over to see what the tiger was up to, adding her own taloned scratching to a nearby and completely unrelated hole as she 'helped' the proceedings along.

The big paws might not have been ideal for digging, but they were big enough that it didn't take long for the hole to reach a depth that looked more or less suitable. "Hey, thanks. Y'ca n stop now, uh..." His nose wrinkled and he scowled at the tiger in perplexed consternation. "What's your name, anyways?" Not that he'd offered his yet, either...

Oh, you say you have to fall apart to really be someone

You could lose yourself in anything. In the blue of the sky, or the vastness of a rolling ocean, or the simple yet profound sensation of digging into sunwarm soil. The texture of it, sandy and dry at the top but darker, damper and cooler the further down she delved. She could smell it too. All but tasted the richness of the mulch on her tongue, traces of verdure and mildew, life and death mingling into a perfume that sent her head spinning. Digging was simple work, and a refuge for one who frequently needed something to ground herself with whenever she couldn't stand her own company, and the tiger might have kept going until the entire hillside was dug out, had the courier not called out to stop her.

Almost reluctantly she backed up from the hole in the ground. Dark half moons remained beneath her sharp fingernails when she shifted back, while something stormy and painful brewed in the gaze that turned to look at the man who asked for her name. He who asked no questions, who had yet to reveal what kind of judgement he passed on heretics and murderers.

Not that she cared what he thought. Not that she didn't care. Would that she could make up her own mind and be even half as cold and indifferent as she looked.
"Maea Valair. From the Hollowed Grounds." As if that wasn't obvious already.

It was harder to do anything now. She thought she ought to help him plant the rose, still, but approaching him now that he had scraped up lines on his arms was difficult. That was her fault, probably. The wilting leaves on the shrub, too - she should have thought of that. Beside her foot a patch of grass smoldered beneath a clump of cherry red steel; Maea stepped on it until the embers went out, wrestling with the weight of guilt in her gut. For making this so much more difficult than it ought to be. For being the one who was getting overwhelmed even though she shouldn't let the ghostly vision get to her. For... gods, if she even knew all the things that made her feel guilty. Breathing in general?

"... water. Might be good. For the rose." Half shrugging off the pack from her back, she dug out a bulging water-skin. It gave her an excuse not to look at the man, or the dragon, or any of the charred vegetation that marred the flowery fields in a circle around her.

Base by Odd

"Maea, huh? Well, uh. Good t'meet you... I guess. 'm Tal Seawright," he offered back gruffly, unable to rub the back of his neck due to the rosebush balanced precariously in his arms, but twitching as if he was trying to anyways. "Courier. From Hal-- uh. King's... End?" There was uncertainty in the last part, a strangeness of the words on his tongue that he couldn't quite accept the shape of yet. His nose wrinkled as he considered the damn shade that had worn his father's face when the man was long past burned and his ashes scattered in Halo, where Tal should have been, and the scowl started to fall back into well-worn lines--

Huff!

Tal blinked and looked down at the pale dragon who ambled over to bump her horned head against his hip, rumbling reassurance. Pulled from his preoccupation, he returned the huff in kind; a sharp inhalation and equally sharp breath out, expelling a little more of his frustration as he carried the bush over to the messy hole and knelt to lower it in.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, good thinkin'. An', uh... thanks. For doin' th' diggin'," he added awkwardly, keeping his eyes very intently focused downward in an attempt to not further jam his foot any farther in his mouth than it had already gone.

Lacking any such concerns like 'shame' or 'embarrassment' or worries about why the two people were so carefully not looking at each other, Boreal ambled her way over to Maea to lean heavily against the pale Ancient's side, giving her the biggest, saddest dragon eyes and offering her horned head for scratches.

Oh, you say you have to fall apart to really be someone

From Halo, she assumed he was about to say. A person who had left his place of birth, then, and still tried adjust and reinvent himself. If things had gone differently they might have met earlier; if Maea had stayed in Halo, if she hadn't died, if...If never solved anything. A slow sigh escaped her without a sound, and her horned head dipped in quiet acknowledgement. "Well met," came the subdued reply. It certainly had been well, until ghosts twisted the narrative and Maea spoke too much.

Boreal's weight pressing into her legs gave the Ancient some solidity to focus on. The pleading eyes lured out a faint smile and she obliged the dragon with scratches around the horns, tickled by the newfound appreciation of just how good it felt. Not that she would put her own head in anyones reach any time soon, but... The thought had occurred a few times.

"No problem. I hope you didn't scratch yourself too badly. If you want to, I could look at it..?" Dragging air deep into her lungs, Maea made a concerted effort of shrugging off the gloom, and returned her focus to the task at hand. Unstopping the waterskin had water spilling over into the hole, dampening the soil. About half of the contents she set aside for later. Kneeling by the upturned earth she waited for Tal to put the rose down, ready to help push the sod and clay back around the roots, and pack it in. Not too tightly, just enough to hold the plant securely.

"Can I tell you one more thing?" Still not quite looking at the courier, Maea sat back on her heels, elbows resting on her knees as she gently prodded a swelling rose bud. "I don't think I make a very good Ancient. Care too much about... many things. But it's better than being Ascended."

Base by Odd

Boreal rumbled contentedly as Maea's fingers found the exact spots that tended to itch and went to work. She clearly wasn't worried about her human, and Tal gave a small shrug as he set the rosebush into its new home and drew a small knife to cut the twine that bound a burlap travel sack around the root ball. "Nah, s'okay," he reassured her distractedly. "It's not too bad. An' I can Heal it right up once we're done an' th'pointy fucker won't get any more jabs in." No point wasting the magic now if he was just going to get scratched up again while filling the hole beneath the little bush. It didn't even occur to him that the thin, shallow red lines of blood - already clotting, at least - might make an Ancient a little uncomfortable.

Maea added water to the hole and then the two of them were able to start filling it back in. It went a great deal easier now that the soil had already been broken up into more manageable chunks by shovel and claws, and in a short while the little bush was sitting comfortably in its new home. Tal sat back on his own heels, wiping a muddy forearm across his brow to clear the sweat and leaving a smear of dirt behind as he blinked over at Maea with some confusion. "I mean... what's wrong with an Ancient carin' about things?" he asked, puzzled. "Hail, Danta is... well, he's Danta," he gestured, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the Grounds, "So y'probably can't judge a whole people based on him. But aside from bein' a bit weirdly bloodthirsty, t'other Ancients seem mostly normal. Fox hunts monsters an' saves people from 'em, an' Edmund runs an Adventurin' Guild in Torchline." Which also helped people out, more or less. "But I guess it's good that Dygra's better'n th'Voice. What's she like?" He was warily curious about Caido's newest (oldest?) goddess, but hadn't quite managed the courage to try praying to her yet. He didn't know what he would ask for, and her shrine in the Climb had been intimidatingly scary for a non-Ancient to poke around in.