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#Post#: 1195--------------------------------------------------
|| Sartor ||
DIR By: WickedOne
Date: December 30, 2024, 2:57 pm
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#Post#: 1196--------------------------------------------------
Re: || Sartor ||
DIR By: WickedOne
Date: December 30, 2024, 3:40 pm
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[glow=black,2,300][color=black][font=georgia]Malekith Silverfang
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[color=black][font=georgia][size=11pt]|| ɪᴛ'ꜱ
ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀɴ
ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ
ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ
ɪɴ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ
ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ɪ
ꜰᴇᴇʟ
ᴘᴏᴜʀɪɴɢ
ᴏᴜᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ
ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ
ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ
ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ
ꜰɪɢʜᴛ ɪᴛ, ɴᴏ
ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ
ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴀ
ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ. ɴᴏ ɪ
ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ
ʀᴇꜱɪꜱᴛ
ᴛʜɪꜱ
ᴍᴇᴛᴀᴍᴏʀᴘʜᴏꜱɪꜱ
ɴᴏᴡ. ||
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[color=black][font=georgia]
Mal rested with his back to the cool of the stonework that made
the stairs that descended to the base level of the room that
housed the Portal beneath the guild hall in Sartor. The grinding
of his bones sounded in his ears as they settled back into place
once more after shifting back. It was finally beginning to hurt
a little less with each time he tried it, or perhaps it was
simply that the sensation was growing more familiar to him with
time. Was hard to say, Mal watched as the last of crackling
purple energy began to rescind like static leaving his body
leaving him feeling as though the world was catching up to his
speed once more leaving him feeling groggy and fatigued as his
usual exhaustion seemed to double down from him having shifted
while utilizing the current's power. Now wasn't the time to slow
down.
Pushing himself to his feet Mal raked on of his hands through
his hair, activating the relic ring he had been gifted; granting
himself a small reprieve from the exhaustion that was settling
in over him though he wasn't able to shake it entirely. He opted
to try and hide this the best he could for now, after all there
was still work to be done. He'd have to put aside his maddening
swirling thoughts of what lie on the other side of the portal
they had just closed. Shoving down the feelings associated and
stifling them; they didn't serve him right now. He had to focus,
he had to get to Damian.
Mal sauntered over his eyes scanning about the room as if
assessing the situation and taking a head count, his pace
quickening as he saw Damian sprawled out on the floor next to
Myka. "I got this from here, go on and check in with the others.
See who all is in need of healing and check back with me." Mal
asked already turning his attention to his friend who he knelt
beside. Beginning to looking over his injuries without giving
him a chance to fuss or decline. There was a mix of wounds, some
of which Mal could tell had been inflicted by the Knights while
others were from the Ants... his sister. Mal felt the sting of
guilt tightening around his throat like a noose causing him to
grind his teeth.
"You guys never should of been at Occtavia's then none of this
mess would of ever happened." Mal half snarled under his breath
though it was loud enough for the parties in question of
overhear. He knew he shouldn't of been there in the first place,
it's what set this horrible chain of events into motion to begin
with. "It nearly got you fvckin' killed. Just who gave you
permission to nearly up and die on me?!" He whisper hissed at
Damian as if scolding him, concern and frustration clouding his
tone as he gripped at the man's jacket his strength threatening
to nearly pop the seams he held on to so tightly.
[size=10pt][color=black]---------------------------------------------------------------------------[font=georgia][size=11pt]
|| ᴡᴇ ᴀʟʟ
ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ
ꜱᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ,
ᴡᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ
ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴀ
ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ
ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ.
||
#Post#: 1207--------------------------------------------------
Re: || Sartor ||
DIR By: guest6
Date: January 4, 2025, 4:50 pm
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[glow=black,2,300][color=black][font=georgia]Damian
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[color=black][font=georgia][size=11pt]|| The cult, death, the
guild, death, the "Queen," the current....how much of me is even
left to save? ||
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[color=black][font=georgia]
Damian laid on the cool floor of the room they stumbled into
after portalling back from the Faewilds. Exhausted.
Dead.
Well...not dead, but almost....closer to dead than...recently
almost dead?
Not worth thinking about at the moment. Thinking is hard. Mal's
face tastes funny...no not tastes. He's not in...no he's in my
face but not my mouth.
Ah fvck.....post almost death loopy hangover. Great.
Mal was yelling at him, yelling at himself, accusing himself and
Damian for Damian having almost died, but Damian couldn't focus
on any of it. The main thing he was aware of was that Mal's face
looked REALLY funny while it was still halfway between his
boyish elven face and his weird lycanthrope beast of a face. He
was also struck with an acute awareness of just how youthful Mal
really did appear. Even for the age Mal was seemingly frozen in
his undeath, he was remarkably youthfully naive looking, and it
occurred to Damian just how much Mal plays into that for his own
benefit.
A second voice was starting in, cutting through Mal's self pity
session...Cleo...
[size=10pt][color=black]---------------------------------------------------------------------------[font=georgia][size=11pt]
|| If I can find the answers, I can find the way. ||
#Post#: 1208--------------------------------------------------
Re: || Sartor ||
DIR By: guest6
Date: January 4, 2025, 6:39 pm
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[glow=black,2,300][color=black][font=georgia]Cleo
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[color=black][font=georgia][size=11pt]|| Those who expect to
reap the blessings of freedom must undergo the fatigue of
supporting it. ||
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[color=black][font=georgia]
"You guys never should have been at Occtavia's..."
Mal's words rang like a temple gong through Cleo's head. As if
the events of the last 10 hours hadn't already been too much,
now Mal had to go and say some more stupid sh!t about him being
the only soul allowed to bear any risks....again. Occtavia's
strange pet/pawn or not, she still knew she made her own choices
and no one...not even Malekid Shineytooth was going to take that
away from her.
"ExCUSE ME?!" standing and turning flawlessly on beat toward the
two figures on the floor a few feet away from her.
"Ex...CUSE....me" slowly stepping over. Even kneeling down to
dote over Damian, Mal was nearly up to her chest as she did her
best to tower over him, and it was working. In that moment, it
felt as if the roles were reversed and she was looking down at
him from the height he normally enjoys looking at the rest of
the world as it kneels.
"If ANYONE had a right to be there, it was me. For all the
fvcking reasons I want to beat the fvcking SH!T out of that
woman right now, you, Mr. 'I don't fear anything except being
abandoned' better be genuinely afraid of what I would do to the
person who takes her from me. That woman, for better or for
worse, raised me.
OF FVCKING COURSE I'm going to show up out of concern when she's
dying and needs help! Why were YOU there, Mal? What purpose did
YOU have for being there and watching her die?"
Before Mal manages to catch enough of a breath to try and answer
her obviously rhetorical question, "No. Don't. Don't answer that
because IT DOESN'T FVCKING MATTER RIGHT NOW! You were there. I
was there. I saw the condition she was in and went to get help,
I went to get the ONE PERSON I know that knows a fvck ton about
curses to see if he could help or might have some insight as to
why she was suddenly so much worse than the night before.
Yeah, you're right....HOW FVCKING DARE I?! RIGHT?! So get off
your damned high horse and realize that this wasn't about YOU!
Other people....care....about other people in this bullsh!t
plane of existence, and it doesn't have anything....to
do....with you!
But since we're at it and you really want this to be about you;
before you go off scolding Damian for 'almost dying' and 'what
would have happened if you weren't here to rescue him....' GUESS
WHAT, Pretty Boy....you were here. You were here. You were here.
I really hope this is sinking through your self loathing skull
right now because if you can't grasp this you really are as
useless as you want to believe you are right now.
I went to go save the woman that raised me...THIS MORNING. In
that process...sh!t went down and we all got separated. Damian,
Occtavia, and myself wound up needing to fight your dark knight
daddy, barely escaping with our lives....THIS MORNING. We jump
into the faewild and one of the few gates between the planes
gets destroyed in the process....THIS MORNING.
Hours later, we find the massive anthill covering the gate and
are LUCKY enough to find our way close to the gate before
alerting them to our potential threat. Damian even tried being
diplomatic about it like you would have wanted, but I'm sure
you'd just yell at him for that being the stupid thing to do.
And then we finally had to fight our way through the last little
bit before getting to the gate itself.
I did that. I brought Damian into the mix. I tried to help save
Occtavia. I helped Damian find her grimoire. Not you. I'm the
reason we had to flee to the faewilds with our only quick way
back being a literal mountain of these fvcked up ants.
"But here's the thing, Mal," the sarcasm dripping off of his
name like cold syrup, "Because of ME, we didn't stand a chance.
All three of us were dead over there because our ONLY hope was
for you to be on the other side." Cleo's hands gesture up,
mockingly quoting Mal, "'Oh, but what would you have done if I
hadn't been here, Damian!' Die. He would have died. And so would
I. I would be dead. Occtavia would be dead. And if you had been
over there, you'd be just as fvcking dead as the rest of us.
If you want to get pissed at Damian for taking on too many of
these bugs at one time and getting knocked out, then you might
as well get fvcking pissed at me and Occtavia too, BECAUSE WE
WERE AS GOOD AS DEAD....unless you....were....here.
So stop being a little b!tch playing the blame game with Damian
on the outside while you do it on the inside with yourself
because you're fvcking wrong, and the only damn thing that
matters is that you showed up over here where we needed you.
Fifteen more seconds, and you'd've had three bodies you needed
to drag through. So get the fvck over yourself, and open your
damn eyes to realize that the only reason we're alive is because
you WEREN'T over there with us.
You.
Were.
Here.
And 'here' is exactly where you needed to be, so that your
boyfriend here didn't ACTUALLY die."
[size=10pt][color=black]---------------------------------------------------------------------------[font=georgia][size=11pt]
|| Destiny be damned. Damned to be destined. ||
#Post#: 1209--------------------------------------------------
Re: || Sartor ||
DIR By: WickedOne
Date: January 4, 2025, 8:22 pm
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HTML https://i.pinimg.com/736x/ae/ac/85/aeac85e3b9256cee9619ffed8930fa25.jpghttps://i.pinimg.com/564x/e3/18/26/e318266f1af9fed0d72d51256357fcf6.jpg
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[glow=black,2,300][color=black][font=georgia]Malekith Silverfang
---------------------------------------------------------
[color=black][font=georgia][size=11pt]|| ɪᴛ'ꜱ
ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀɴ
ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ
ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ
ɪɴ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ
ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ɪ
ꜰᴇᴇʟ
ᴘᴏᴜʀɪɴɢ
ᴏᴜᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ
ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ
ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ
ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ
ꜰɪɢʜᴛ ɪᴛ, ɴᴏ
ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ
ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴀ
ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ. ɴᴏ ɪ
ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ
ʀᴇꜱɪꜱᴛ
ᴛʜɪꜱ
ᴍᴇᴛᴀᴍᴏʀᴘʜᴏꜱɪꜱ
ɴᴏᴡ. ||
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
[color=black][font=georgia]
Mal sat there still as a statue, blinking up at Cleo as she
began to lay into him. At first his furrowed brow lifted as if
surprised but seemed to stop short showcasing a calm face,
intense eyes settling on the woman as her voice began to rise
though the man made no effort to stop her tirade or interrupt.
His grip lessening as the battle worn fabric of Damian's suit
jacket slipped out of his hand with no resistance. Even as she
continued to lay into him Mal stayed uncharacteristically quiet.
His silence was nearly deafening as she finished fuming. Mal
understood the anger she was feeling, as well as the hurt that
hid behind it's mask. This wasn't about him. She was right in
that respect.
He began to ponder as she spoke about what else had transpired
while they were on the other side. Such a short time for so many
events to come crashing down around them, especially with her
personal proximity and concerns for Occatvia, it was only right
that this would be her reaction. That's precisely what this was,
a reaction. That feeling of loss of control, the fear of nearly
losing those you care about, the guilt and frustration
associated with it all. She was clearly hurting, Mal couldn't
fault her for that. Cleo was a wounded animal lashing out, not
long ago he too would of done the same if he had been in her
position. As such he didn't take it personally even as she
readied her claws and tried to get a rise out of him, to hurt
him just so that she wouldn't be alone in that feeling.
"I see."
The two words were surprisingly heavy for being so small, the
outermost corners of his lips turning downward into the smallest
of frowns. His eyes scanned over to Occtavia then back to Cleo
who still loomed over where he stayed crouched at Damian's side.
"I won't pretend to understand your feelings towards that
woman," Mal stated simply knowing only what Cleo had shared.
"But from experience, I do know how horrible and frightening it
can be to lose a loved one. I'm grateful you didn't have to
experience such pain today and that everyone made it out
alive..." His words were wholly genuine as Mal shared his quiet
sentiments, his final words hardly above a whisper as his chest
gave way to a tired sigh before he finally rose to his feet
rising above her in both senses.
"You've been through a lot today. We should get you all
somewhere to rest and patch up. Once in private you can work
through things on your end and if you still really want to hit
your ol'lady after having a proper chat with her, I'll even
offer to hold her in place." Mal teased lightening the subject
in his unique way going so far as to flash Cleo a warm smile
though he himself was still plagued by her words. His hands
stuffed into his pockets shaky at the the heavy thoughts of
having to drag Damian's corpse to the temple in Newark. The
light fading from the sockets of Erobas's skull. His sister
bleeding out in his arms. The muddy shovel from digging a pair
of graves as a child. He had seen more than his fair share of
loved ones slip through he fingers, there was nothing more
visceral than the type of wound it left on one's heart. He could
only hope to protect others from such pain, unlike her he had
grown skilled at masking it.
"Next time before you step on my balls at least give me the
courteousy of a safe word." Mal grinned again as he was about to
step past her, leaning in with a crooked smile and a playful
twinkle in his eyes for a moment before turning back to check on
everyone else in true Malekith Silverfang fashion.
[size=10pt][color=black]---------------------------------------------------------------------------[font=georgia][size=11pt]
|| ᴡᴇ ᴀʟʟ
ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ
ꜱᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ,
ᴡᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ
ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴀ
ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ
ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ.
||
#Post#: 1210--------------------------------------------------
Re: || Sartor ||
DIR By: guest6
Date: January 4, 2025, 9:42 pm
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/>
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[glow=black,2,300][color=black][font=georgia]Cleo
---------------------------------------------------------
[color=black][font=georgia][size=11pt]|| Those who expect to
reap the blessings of freedom must undergo the fatigue of
supporting it. ||
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
[color=black][font=georgia]
Cleo had started to turn away, intent on leaving the room,
finding somewhere she could let herself collapse in private
after her outburst, hoping Mal would stay quiet long enough for
that.
Instead, he responded. His words cut with the awareness that
while they were unmistakably genuine, they were carefully
thought out, curated and filtered. The least the bloodsport
fighter could do was match her raw emotion and unfiltered
honesty, but no. He was holding back, which infuriated her all
the more in the moment. She did her best to bite her tongue and
listen to his words beyond the screaming emotions reacting to
her worst faith interpretation of what he was saying.
There was a bit of substance worth considering, deeper issues he
was avoiding, unwilling to open up that flood in front of
everyone. That much was recognizable. That much was deserving of
respect, honoring his composure rather than cutting it out from
under him, especially in front of everyone. And she was almost
willing to call attention to that until he tried to cut the
tension with a joke about Occtavia, crack a smile, and add in
more jokes about safe words.
She knew a portion of it was just because she wanted more of a
reaction from him, but it was more about the fact he was the one
person she imagined could sit with her in empathy over
everything she had been through today, only to find that
whatever she had recognized beneath the surface was something he
had buried much much deeper and was going to laugh and smile and
joke his way around even remotely touching it, even now.
Cleo bent down and picked up the dagger in front of her. She had
only seen it in Damian's hands a few times, but recognized it as
the magical flaming one he had recently given to Mal and assumed
it had been thrown in the fighting on this side or fallen out of
wherever Mal had been storing it while he had shifted forms.
Tossing it gently toward Mal and Damian, it clinked on the floor
as it bounced a few times while she stood back up and turned to
leave, "Sometimes....sometimes people hurt. And they need to and
you gotta let them. And they might stop hurting, but they'll
never actually get through it if you pull them out with jokes
and cheap smiles."
Mal was on his own feet, intent on stuffing down whatever value
he had taken from the words behind her insults and pain so that
he could check on everyone else, who were surprisingly fairing
far better than herself and those that came through the portal
with her so she did her best to hurry through the doors in
search of privacy without looking like she was running from him.
[size=10pt][color=black]---------------------------------------------------------------------------[font=georgia][size=11pt]
|| Destiny be damned. Damned to be destined. ||
#Post#: 1211--------------------------------------------------
Re: || Sartor ||
DIR By: guest6
Date: January 4, 2025, 10:19 pm
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[glow=black,2,300][color=black][font=georgia]Damian
---------------------------------------------------------
[color=black][font=georgia][size=11pt]|| The cult, death, the
guild, death, the "Queen," the current....how much of me is even
left to save? ||
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
[color=black][font=georgia]
Damian knew he was still a bit out of things, more than just the
exhaustion, but Cleo's yelling had done quite a bit to sober him
up if nothing else than just the effort it took to focus on not
laughing at a few of her more...eccentric word choices.
He had managed to pull himself up a bit in Mal's arms while she
was going on, but rested back onto his elbows as Mal was
standing up to focus some attention on the others. "Wait wait!
She called me your boyfriend..." The words came out dripping
with playful and sarcastic flirtation before abruptly being
followed by a very seriously
not serious, "Oh sh!t...I said that out loud didn't I? 'No
Damian, you didn't say anything.' Oh good, because jokes are bad
when you're as nearly dead as I am. I won't get better cracking
jokes about making out with wolfboy over here while he holds me
dying in his big furry arms. 'No you definitely won't, Damian.
It's so good you kept your inner thoughts to yourself and didn't
accidentally say them out loud.'"
Cleo did a fairly decent job of stifling her laughter at his
best attempt to acknowledge what she was saying with what Mal
had intended to do. Perhaps it was his current delirium that
afforded him the grace of doing exactly what she was storming
off upset with Mal for doing, perhaps it was the fact she knew
he had been sitting in his own pain for the last 10 hours,
feeling every ounce of it and that leaning into the delirious
high of having nearly died at the culmination of it all was his
best attempt at not being consumed by the pain. He didn't have
the energy to figure out which one of the two it was or what
percentage of each was involved.
When Mal paused to double check on him before leaving though he
simply laid back down and said, "No...really though. I'm ok.
I'll be ok. Maybe a good nap. Despite the jokes though...despite
the anger, she's got a few points dude. Just...give everyone a
few minutes. It's been a lot for us today."
As Mal stood back up after making sure he placed a softer pack
under Damian's head, he barely heard Damian say, "I really am
glad you were there. I thought I was ready, but I...I don't want
to die. Not yet. Not like that. Thank you." Damian barely
mouthed the words with his breathing, inaudible to himself and
certain no one could hear them, failing to consider Mal's keen
hearing being all the more elevated thanks to having only
reverted back to his normal form less than a minute ago.
[size=10pt][color=black]---------------------------------------------------------------------------[font=georgia][size=11pt]
|| If I can find the answers, I can find the way. ||
#Post#: 1212--------------------------------------------------
Re: || Sartor ||
DIR By: WickedOne
Date: January 4, 2025, 11:31 pm
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[glow=black,2,300][color=black][font=georgia]Malekith Silverfang
---------------------------------------------------------
[color=black][font=georgia][size=11pt]|| ɪᴛ'ꜱ
ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀɴ
ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ
ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ
ɪɴ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ
ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ɪ
ꜰᴇᴇʟ
ᴘᴏᴜʀɪɴɢ
ᴏᴜᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ
ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ
ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ
ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ
ꜰɪɢʜᴛ ɪᴛ, ɴᴏ
ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ
ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴀ
ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ. ɴᴏ ɪ
ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ
ʀᴇꜱɪꜱᴛ
ᴛʜɪꜱ
ᴍᴇᴛᴀᴍᴏʀᴘʜᴏꜱɪꜱ
ɴᴏᴡ. ||
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
[color=black][font=georgia]
"You are a beautiful hot mess right now." Mal said exhaling a
near chuckle while shaking his head trying not to give Damian
the satisfaction in that moment but his smile betrayed him as he
looked down at Damian's sorry state. "Careful wise guy, you're
in no shape to be jumping let alone jumping into any
relationships. Don't let her give you any ideas, you'd have to
clear that with the missus anyway." His tone was playful as he
quipped with his friend but concern still shone reflected back
in his eyes. Giving another sigh he nodded in agreement to
Damian's call out. "She is right. I just suck." Mal scoffed.
"I'll fix things though..." He added cradling Damian's head to a
better resting position before draping his jacket over him. "You
should get some rest.." He added his hand resting on his
shoulder before pulling away only to freeze upon hearing
Damian's words. Faint as they were, it was like he shouted them
causing Mal to swallow hard.
"Always." I will always come running if you need me. To keep you
safe, to keep you protected, even when you're fighting against
yourself or facing your own demons. Now that they were on Sartor
soil, Mal knew their bonds would be tested. Damian had battles a
head Mal couldn't help him prepare for but he knew he'd be right
by his side all the same. Gently Mal stroked his finger from
Damian's brow down his nose, a simple gesture he used to use on
his sister when she was small to get her to sleep, this time it
was imbued with the magic needed to help him rest and heal if
only for a short catnap. "Rest now."
As he watched Damian's eyes brown ever weary, fluttering for a
moment before falling shut Mal felt a wave of relief in seeing
him resting peacefully. Tucking him in a bit more before turning
back to go find Cleo in an attempt to make amends before the
regret ate him alive like maggots burrowing deeper into his
already dead flesh. Bracing himself for what was to come, this
time allowing himself to settle into that place of discomfort in
place of running away from it again like he often did. "Cleo
wait." He called out after catching up to her, keeping a short
distance back as if the space was enough of a buffer but he
could feel the sickening feelings welling up inside of him
again. Now that they were alone, he could feel the fresh pain of
feeling manipulated and betrayed mixed with a dread of lack of
control, guilt, pain, loss, confusion. All of it hitting him at
once causing his eyes to feel as though they were burning.
"You were absolutely right." Once again he took on an earnest
tone, this time being sure not to sour his words with
deflections and ill placed jokes. His posture was boyish for a
moment almost childlike as he fought with himself to pull the
words from his chest and be honest. "Sometimes people do hurt...
I wish I could keep it from ever happening and even more
unfortunately I know I can't, so I make jokes and try to help
people and myself forget the pain. But it doesn't un-break
what's been broken." There was a long pause between them. "Some
people say time helps but I'm not so sure... I'm sorry, I was
being a shitty friend. No one should have to shoulder their pain
alone, it will devour you if you let it. Anger and pain rob from
all of the good, leaving you with only the bad. I want better
than that for you. If I can't fix it, would you at least give me
the honor of being along side you while you see these feelings
through?"
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|| ᴡᴇ ᴀʟʟ
ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ
ꜱᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ,
ᴡᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ
ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴀ
ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ
ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ.
||
#Post#: 1213--------------------------------------------------
Re: || Sartor ||
DIR By: WickedOne
Date: January 6, 2025, 6:33 pm
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[glow=black,2,300][color=black][font=georgia]Braun, ex-bandit
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[color=black][font=georgia][size=11pt]|| Doing whatever it
takes to live ||
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Before the group parted ways, Braun had darted off in hopes of
catching a bit of crayfish for something he had planned. Not
knowing how the specific biome of the swamp behaved, he was
shown to the correct area to catch such things. Nita thankfully
stayed behind and offered him some much needed help. As the two
worked together, their teamwork was easy and uncomplicated. Few
things felt as natural to Braun as talking to Nita, of that he
was certain.
Finally, with their catch of several pounds of snapping
crayfish, the pair made their way back to the guild hall. The
decrepit building was a far cry from the hall in Yarrow, but it
was their temporary home for the time being. The group had
decided against keeping a tree portal within the bounds of
Sartor itself due to worry of the cult's interference so the
only way back was dozens of miles back through the swamp. In
Braun's mind, this towering sinkhole was home for now.
Braun was always fond of the luxuries of city living because he
knew what it was like to not have them. All the time he spent
with bandits and otherwise, he had forgotten most of the
luxuries of a well meaning life. The guild hall of Sartor may
not be a pristine capital building but it did have a kitchen, a
latrine, and, most importantly, it had safety.
As the pair walked down the perfumed street that led to the not
so distant tower, Braun began to fumble with the other things he
had purchased for this project throughout the day. He
absent-mindedly began to list off each other item he had
procured, painting a better picture of what his plan was. "Bread
dough starter, for the bread; the correct blend of spices; eggs
for mayo; and the veggies." Braun listed as he padded through
the objects. Each item was wrapped in fancy papers and cloths, a
sure sign of their quality.
"And the crayfish!" Braun exclaimed much more audibly as he
looked over to Nita and smiled. "We've got everything we're
gonna need to recreate the best sandwich I've ever eaten. That's
sure to snap Damien out of that stupor!" There was a warm grin
spreading wider over his face as he patted his bag. "I don't
suppose you'd like to join me for a little while longer? I could
use someone that knows something about baking fresh bread."
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|| Sailing to the sea, a pirate's life for me ||
#Post#: 1214--------------------------------------------------
Re: || Sartor ||
DIR By: WickedOne
Date: January 6, 2025, 8:10 pm
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[glow=green,2,300][color=black][font=georgia]Nita Mycelius
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[color=black][font=georgia][size=11pt]|| why not go out on a
limb, that's where the fruit is. ||
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Nita enjoyed their fishing venture, they were quite successful
once she had explained the best way to catch crayfish. She had
taken off her shoes and hiked up her skirt, knotting it to the
side before wading into the shallows and showing Braun the
ropes. Due to her usual clumsiness she of course had slipped on
the swamps edge periodically and had fallen into the water on
several occasions. The gnomish woman hadn't seemed bothered by
this and it didn't seem to deter her from continuing even after
Braun had offered to let her sit on the shoreline. She wasn't
sure how many times she had stumbled but she herself had stopped
counting after she had fallen in no less than three times around
the start.
As they walked back she gentle wrung out her braids and listened
to Braun listing off his haul the reasoning hitting her finally.
Hm so that's what he's been up to today. Nita thought to herself
with a smile. Running her memory back through the ingredients
and their respective stalls the group had stopped at throughout
the day as he quietly listed them off to himself triumphantly
finishing his mental tally with their crawdads. It seemed Braun
had set his secret plan into motion without having bothered
anyone else to help. A truly kind gesture, it seemed he wanted
to express towards Damian because he was concerned. Something
she found very sweet. "I think it's really nice of you to share
a memory like that to cheer him up. You're a really good friend
Braun, I'd be honored to help with whatever you need in the
kitchen." She exclaimed warmly, tilting her head to the side to
look up at him as they walked.
She found it curious; To have remembered all of those
ingredients without a physical list after indulging as he had
and seemingly having no rhyme or reason as he went about his
merry way, it certainly showcased that Braun was much more
astute than most would give him credit for. Nita curiously
wondered if that was a learned trait from having lived life as a
ruffian and needing to stay on his toes or if it was just a
natural talent he had found useful regardless of his current or
past life circumstances. Perhaps some day she would ask him.
After returning to the guild tower Nita stopped in her makeshift
room to change and wash up the muck that yet clung to her before
she was to help Braun down in the kitchen. Despite washing the
musk smell of the swamp lands out of her hair she found she
didn't have time to try and tame it any further. With a small
disapproving sigh she opted to let it air dry and conceded any
attempts to tame her curls any further. She simply didn't have
the time if they were going to get this sandwich whipped into
shape! She hurriedly made her way down the corridors, only
managing to get a bit lost after getting distracted by a pretty
painting of a a field of wildflowers but in time found her way
down to the hall that lead to the kitchen. She was in such a
rush she nearly slid to a stop sideways in the door way a bit
winded. Pink rose up to bloom in her cheeks as she placed her
hands on her knees to steady herself before giving a wave to
Braun who was just finishing unloading the last of the
vegetables out of his pack to arrange the rest of the
ingredients on the workbench.
"I'm ready!" She drawing a deep breath before entering the room,
smoothing her skirt and adjusting the loosened tie from the
apron she used most often for cooking, it's fabric still lightly
dusted with traces of flour from her most recent bake. As her
emerald eyes scanned the room she noted how this kitchen was
less outfitted for varying heights. A rather disappointing
observation for a guild outfit, one would expect more inclusion
in such an establishment considering the wide array of halflings
and gnomes in the guilds employ, as well as many others who fell
well below average statures of human's and other tallfolk. Of
course she wasn't willing to let this sour her mood but she
would surely make note of it to bring up to Aulra in the future.
This time however she would make due, grabbing a small wooden
crate to haul over before placing it next to Braun, washing her
hands and rolling up her sleeves ready to get to work. "Tell me
what you need to get started first." She smiled, ready to be the
best sous chef she could be.
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|| Someday I'll find where I belong. ||
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