Hemlock & Lace
wash out the salt from my hands - Printable Version

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wash out the salt from my hands - Helayne - 01-09-2024

Helayne Ilirium

The blistering heat of summer was finally, blissfully being broken by a storm. Helayne stood out front of Tanyi’s shop, watching thick black clouds rolling in across the sky. The heavy stench of the city was slowly being pushed away by rain on the wind. She leaned back against the building, her arms crossed lightly over her chest. The wind pulled at her waist length hair, whipping the long braids into a frenzy. It brought a smile to her lips, and a familiar ache all at once. She reached for it, trying to find the source of it. She’d been staying around Shanton for what felt like weeks now, lingering mostly around the occultist’s shop. Helping where she could and getting in the woman’s way elsewise. The pain was homesickness she realized. Not the deep open wound she bore for the North, but a softer pain for the wilds she’d called home for so many years now. With the storm coming, she’d have set up their camp in a familiar thick grove of trees, a safe distance from the rising river. She’d sit in the small canvas tent, Ghost pressed close at her back for warmth. Freya would hide amongst the trees, while Sif took his cover in the canopy above or occasionally hidden in the tent as well. She’d watch and listen to the lullaby of raindrops bathing the leaves and river. There was nothing quite like the peace of rain, or the thrill of a storm. Something about being in the city just wasn’t quite the same, she thought.

Sif landed on a hitching post close by, his wings raised in protest and warning for what was to come. He too seemed unsettled without the familiarity of their wandering home amongst the wildlands. She gave him a sad smile, ”You have four walls to hide in this time, friend.” The hawk gave a harsh screech, seemingly offended by her clear wants to stay outside. He seemed to take her advice though, wandering in search of the mystic. Ghost, an ever present shadow, lay curled at her feet, tucked close to the building. His wary amber gaze studying their surroundings. Helayne watched as the streets began to clear, some shops deciding to close as people hurried to the safety of their homes with the coming weather. She supposed this day would yield no more answers then the others had.

Her mind drifted to Aevor, the soldier she’d met at the celebration for August and his betrothed. The night had started out fine enough. It was the first time in a long time she’d enjoyed just sitting and talking to a stranger she felt like, save for August. Though she had to admit he had become more friend then stranger. Aevor had been able to give her a direction, something she hadn’t been able to find in a long time, someone he was familiar with that visited Tanyi’s shop. The thought of it still sent a chill down her spine. She’d watched every face that had come in and out of her door the past several weeks, hoping she’d see a familiar face, something that would tip her off. The brief flash of her memory, dark hair and silver eyes… she looked for it or some other trigger in ever person she saw… Nothing had yielded so far though. The rest of that night had dissolved into chaos, recalling her fear for August. She thought of the soldier again and hoped Aevor had made it out of there unscathed, and without the wine. A pain of remorse settled in her chest thinking of it. She’d been so worried for August and finding him she’d never tried to find out if he was okay. Maybe there was another way she could reach out to him.

Her mind was pulled from her thoughts by a blinding flash of lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder. Her sapphire gaze lifted in time for the sky to open its downpour. She smiled, feeling it’s pull against the small bit of her elemental power that manifested in electricity, like small sparks kissing their way up her bare arms. Hel closed her eyes, leaning her head against the wall, and let the cool touch of the rain soothe the heat of her skin.


art by annteya



RE: wash out the salt from my hands - Theodred - 01-14-2024

His meetings had kept him far longer than he had originally anticipated. It wasn't simply the ordinary subjects, after all, and yet he couldn't find the opportunity to simply slip away from the concession of long, drawn out political speeches. The warmth in the air had begun to dissipate from the city streets by the time he finally found exit. Clouds gathered, heavy with the threat of a storm. While he didn't have to worry about the possibility of sickness in compensation to exposure to such elements, it did make for an uncomfortable ride in the saddle. Nef was settled complacently back in the stables of Dunmeath under the premise of not wanting to tire his favorite steed with such a long journey, it also wasn't uncommon for him to ignore the invitation of a carriage. Habits long upheld serving well to cover his movements now. Another horse found his hand under cover of the precious stone that Tanyi had granted him. The crystal had gorged upon his spilled ichor earlier in the day, an insurance to keep himself covered for his intended meeting, should she still be present in the city.

The seedy streets of Shanton were also an unwelcome part of his trek. While under normal circumstances, the flush number of pickpockets and other undesirable characters bore him a wide berth, under this false pretense, they often wandered far too close to the saddle bags that decorated his mount. Thankfully, he traveled lightly, and should their fingers find purchase on the satchels, they were more likely to turn up empty than not. An unfamiliar sound for the dark cobble roused as he came closer to the occultist's shop. He would need more materials as well than the disguise. Vervain. Wolfbane. Tools and weaponry utilized by mortals to deal with the plague of the undead for his normal weapons could not find him lest it be a clue to discern who he truly was beneath the mask and cloak.

Finally, the sign came into view as the first valiant strike of lightening illuminated the skies overhead. It was closely followed by the brazen roar of thunder, reminding him sharply of most of the politicians huddled with their hands out, vying for the attentions of the queen. All tongue, but their teeth dull. Harmless. The sound of his approach was no doubt drowned by the clatter of the coming rain as if the heavens themselves wept for the uncertainty of the future. The overbearing scent of rancid and the hint of fresh blood was flushed away with the press of nature. Clean, crisp breeze hissed gently through the narrow alleys in a keening howl to accompany the melody of the raindrops. He'd always held a soft spot for such weather. It served to chase away most of the public. It sang merrily against window panes and rang hotly against lit lanterns, a lullaby that was often the only thing that eased the bags that would surely plague his eyes should restlessness show wear and tear upon his facade as it did mortals.

It didn't take much of a glance to find her. The silver of her hair was a striking contrast to the darkness that surrounded her. As was the company she kept in spite of the buildings that towered over them. He dismounted the gelding, housing him under the eave of as he lashed the reigns to the bannister, allowing him shelter from the elements. Despite the change of his features due to Tanyi's spell, he allowed the porcelain weight of the mask to further shield his countenance as he turned to make his way to the store itself.

Footfalls would halt, however, close to the door. Close to her. A bridge to answers she sought, though he mused if what he knew would still be enough. "Waiting for someone?" he inquired, fingers upon the portal that would lead in.