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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 18, 2008 0:17:47 GMT -5
Hadrian was left gaping at the unexpected response, arms falling numbly by his sides. It was clear that he had crossed some sort of line, but what or how he could not begin to fathom. Something was terribly amiss inside of Uathach’s psyche; the woman wore her fear like a mantle. Wraith was frequently a mystery to Hadrian, but their last few meetings had caused him no end of concern. And yet without her consent, what could he possibly do to help? “ Forgive me, sister. I did not mean to cause you alarm. Perhaps I had better go.” Wraith stares at Hadrian in shock. This was not what she wanted at all! Why couldn't he see? Couldn't he just open his eyes, and truly see what was happening to her? He worked with the insane all the time. Surely he would know, surely he would realise that she needed his help, his succor, from the darkness ahead, but... she couldn't tell him! She couldn't... the words wouldn't form, instead just scattering like dust in the wind. And when they did, no sound would pass her lips, or the tight choking sensation in her throat and chest. There had to be some other way she could communicate with him, some other way that wouldn't risk invoking the wrath - or imagined wrath - of her Dustman superior; a way that wouldn't directly speak of her fear. Clutching her hand to her breast, Wraith grimaces in pain. It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus, and breathe. Pain shot through her arms, and her fingers began to tingle. Still clutching the violin like a shield, she reaches out to Hadrian with a beseaching hand, pleading for him to stay, when again the words, her thoughts, failed her. "Don't... Don't.... go." She pleads so softly she wasn't even sure if she heard the words herself, or merely imagined them. Again she meets Hadrian's eyes, and prays he'd heard her, and would know what to do. |
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Post by exile on May 18, 2008 17:23:10 GMT -5
“Uathach, I...” Hadrian faltered for words in the face of his fearful friend working at such incredible cross purposes with herself. “No - no of course, sister. I’ll stay.”
Squeezing her hand tenderly, the aasimar tried his best to offer a warm and supportive smile but he could feel it breaking on his lips. Something was terribly wrong, and it was difficult for him to maintain his detachment. Hadrian wanted desperately to be able to ease Wraith’s suffering and to shelter her from the demons that tormented her without end. But this was not the way, not here. Not like this.
“Do you remember the night we met, sister? That poor sod fell through a portal and almost landed in our laps. We spent the night at an inn close to here; The Lost Keep, I think. It was a nice quiet place, and the innkeeper was a true blood, hey? Do you think I could talk you into a warm meal and a pot of tea?”
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 18, 2008 23:04:21 GMT -5
“ Uathach, I...” Hadrian faltered for words in the face of his fearful friend working at such incredible cross purposes with herself. “ No - no of course, sister. I’ll stay.” Squeezing her hand tenderly, the aasimar tried his best to offer a warm and supportive smile but he could feel it breaking on his lips. Something was terribly wrong, and it was difficult for him to maintain his detachment. Hadrian wanted desperately to be able to ease Wraith’s suffering and to shelter her from the demons that tormented her without end. But this was not the way, not here. Not like this. “ Do you remember the night we met, sister? That poor sod fell through a portal and almost landed in our laps. We spent the night at an inn close to here; The Lost Keep, I think. It was a nice quiet place, and the innkeeper was a true blood, hey? Do you think I could talk you into a warm meal and a pot of tea?” Still staring at Hadrian with wide bewildered eyes, and trembling beneath his gentle touch, Wraith manages a feeble nod. Yes, she did remember. Despite the horrors of the past few days, she wouldn't soon forget an event like that. After all, though portals opened up and vanished throughout the Cage every day, such an event was still an extroadinary occurance. "Yes, a... a nice quiet place to-to sit would be... be nice. I need to... think, collect my thoughts." Setting the violin aside, the lifts a pale hand to her brow. Her fingers are shaking uncontrollably. She begins to stand up, totters, and nearly falls flat on her backside; catching herself on Hadrian's arm as she falls. |
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Post by exile on May 21, 2008 22:45:46 GMT -5
Wraith’s stumble catches the aasimar entirely unawares, and for a moment it is only the woman’s frail grip on his arm that keeps her aloft.
“Easy, sister,” he exclaims upon recovering. Extending his other hand out to help raise the woman back to her feet he continues with a worry strained smile. “I think we can definitely do with a warm table by a hearth now.”
Collecting the poor woman up in his arms to prevent another unexpected tumble, Hadrian nods his thanks towards A’Kin and steers his companion towards the door.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 22, 2008 2:24:32 GMT -5
Wraith’s stumble catches the aasimar entirely unawares, and for a moment it is only the woman’s frail grip on his arm that keeps her aloft. “ Easy, sister,” he exclaims upon recovering. Extending his other hand out to help raise the woman back to her feet he continues with a worry strained smile. “ I think we can definitely do with a warm table by a hearth now.” Collecting the poor woman up in his arms to prevent another unexpected tumble, Hadrian nods his thanks towards A’Kin and steers his companion towards the door. Wraith barely even acknowledges the Arcanoloth proprieter - indeed she doesn't even remember why she was here in the first place, although it must've been important - as the Madman escorts her from the establishment. Outside, acrid Lower Ward air, tinged with the ash and cinders belched from hundreds of chimneys, tugs at her hair, and slaps into her face. It calms her somewhat, bringing the confused woman to her senses, although she doesn't let go of Hadrian just yet. A fine icy drizzle mists the midday air, typical weather for a typical day in the City of Doors. For a while she walks huddled beneath her cloak beside Hadrian, drawing warmth from his solid stature, and tyaking comfort from the steadiness of his stride. Her gaze drifts away from the road and the traffic ahead, following the curve of the torus; at last settling upon the distant dome of the Mortuary. A slow shudder steals through the woman's body. By all accounts it seems that she has seen a ghost: or the shade of herself she couldn't face. "I am lost, Hadrian." She mumbles belatedly. "The dead don't twig to the living walking in their house." Turning away from the haunted monument, Wraith drifts through the crowd, walking where Hadrian leads her. |
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Post by exile on May 29, 2008 20:56:55 GMT -5
(OOC: I was about to start another thread in the Lost Keep when I went back to reread this scene and realized it wasn't finished. We'll transit soon.)
Hadrian marched on in silence for many minutes after Wraith's soul bearing declaration, wrestling with his own personal indecision. The Factions made preachers out of every sod with a soap box to stand upon, but he had never been one to proselytize. Disagree certainly, even debate for hours on end with vigor. But his goal was never to convert another to his own views, just to draw attention to the folly inherent in their own.
A cutter's personal revelations would come in time. Or perhaps they wouldn't, it didn't really matter in the scheme of things anyway; nothing did, so why should this be any different?
But here and now, his friend was suffering and he found himself torn apart. To try to steer her either way would be to do so at her most vulnerable, and Hadrian had no wish to abuse her trust in that fashion. This was a personal decision, one he suspected the tiefling Dead of having made in her heart a while gone but not yet come to terms with in her head. Her eyes would adjust to the new light in time with or without his help. All the same, he could not watch her fumble through the darkness alone, could he?
Well, could he?
"You count yourself among the living again, Sister?" he said at last.
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Post by Stix on May 30, 2008 9:59:51 GMT -5
Dumb Luck
[dice=20][rand=56834961480303689496154233041957616316616121881547232123227770373]
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Post by Stix on May 30, 2008 11:37:15 GMT -5
(No problems en route; go ahead and take it to the Lost Keep.)
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on May 30, 2008 20:57:52 GMT -5
Wraith stops and looks at the Madman. "Yes. I-I believe I do, Hadrian." She whispers in a soft, sad voice, and stares ahead again into the sea of faces swarming all around them. Some bump into her, paying her no heed as they pass, as though she is little more than manure or mud beneath their boots. Some even steer clear of her altogether, afraid of her and what her sombre robes entailed. Too many were peery of the Dustmen... and worse, she was beginning to feel the same way herself. Or rather, the Dead were becoming a bit suspicious of her, and her erratic metamorphosis. Yes, she was changing, slowly drifting away from the shadow of Death into the grey and hazy no-man's land somewhere between, where her own immediate future was obscure and frightening. The Dustmen themselves rarely took notice of stand-alone individuals amidst the veiled nameless, but it wasn't them she was worried about. The Mortuary was as much a house for the undead as it was for the living who walked the line of Death. Zombie laborers rarely heeded her commands, or steered clear of her altogether. Then there was the way that particularly pale Dustman looked at her not a night before, with an almost hungry glitter in his dead black eyes... Thinking about it now sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. Drawing cloak closer about her shivering form, Wraith trudges alongide Hadrian in stoic silence, until the Lost Keep Inn swims into view. [ooc @ exile: I think we should move on to the Lost Keep Inn now.  ] |
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