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+--- Thread: blood in the water (/showthread.php?tid=741)
blood in the water - Theodred - 04-23-2024
It would seem they'd have no time to lick their wounds. No sooner had they made it into the safety of the city itself than cries even began to ring out from within the walls. He knew that the golems still feasted, a myriad of new and fallen flesh fueling them on in their frenzy. Until those threads of magic were suddenly severed as well. The scent of brimstone and smog suddenly filtered through the air, accompanied swiftly by the acrid odor of singed hair and flesh. His magic was quickly depleting after the fray, but as the indescribable heat came too close to ignore, he would lay bloodied palm to the dirt floor of the tent, a shield of crimson engulfing them scarcely before the rain of hellfire did.
He could no longer catch his breath, not that he entirely needed it, but habits died hard. The taste of ichor swept his tongue, the overwhelming mixture of smells churning his stomach. Straightening, he was reminded once more of the damage done to his shoulder as well, the venom that lay beneath the skin, no doubt blackening the veins there, if that was all, he would count himself as fortunate, he supposed. Though the stiff and awkward nature of its movements hinted that perhaps it was not only punctured, but dislocated as well. There was little time to dwell on such matters, however, as sterling gaze cut to the weak, hapless youth. One that had, for some reason, decided to risk limb and life to defend this place. Perhaps he was more like his mother than he would ever be willing to admit.
Regardless, he would pressure the unwilling form of his body to move. To stand. A harsh huff of air departed him, ribs screaming for their reprieve only met with callous resolve. So long as his head wasn't separated from his shoulders, it mattered not the plight the rest of him suffered. He could bleed out, and he could be revived. Such a thing had happened before, an escape cruelly denied. He held his doubts that anyone else would spare time or attention for the mortal, however. "Get up." He growled, vocals guttural as the hand belonging to his good arm would reach down in an attempt to drag Fin to a stand the best he could. Lightening danced fatally close by, ending a life with a disconcerting wail. His skin prickled in response to the proximity as he ripped the magic ring from the swollen finger where already traces of the dog's venom could be discovered.
He forced his thoughts to focus upon his own house, clamping his eyes shut as the world began to precariously tilt to and fro. Tossing the ring, the door would open, and there was a familiar room upon the other side. Dim, dark. But there. Without wasting time, he would shove the boy through, perhaps the motion was rougher than he had initially intended, but he made it through regardless, and Theo would stagger after him. Upon bidding the portal to close, it did so.
And it was like they were never amidst that hell.
The commotion didn't go unnoticed as already the maid was rushing towards them, her footfalls heavy down the stairs as the vampire slouched unceremoniously into the armchair that faced the empty hearth. "Maria," he spoke as soon as she reached the threshold, not wanting to hear her animated questioning or her normal antics, "can you fetch a healer? Someone who will tend a human. A mortal." He drug in a deep breath, exhaled it, and seeming to sense his mood, the young woman would merely nod, and as she started to step away, he would add: "I don't want anyone to know we're here." She stiffened slightly, but once again bobbed her head.
Silver would slowly open, looking to wherever Fin had managed to. "You'll be safe here." He assured, allowing his eyelids to once again fall. For the first time he could recall in any recent age, he was grateful for the presence of the peaceful darkness belonging to Lavalles's shade.
He could no longer catch his breath, not that he entirely needed it, but habits died hard. The taste of ichor swept his tongue, the overwhelming mixture of smells churning his stomach. Straightening, he was reminded once more of the damage done to his shoulder as well, the venom that lay beneath the skin, no doubt blackening the veins there, if that was all, he would count himself as fortunate, he supposed. Though the stiff and awkward nature of its movements hinted that perhaps it was not only punctured, but dislocated as well. There was little time to dwell on such matters, however, as sterling gaze cut to the weak, hapless youth. One that had, for some reason, decided to risk limb and life to defend this place. Perhaps he was more like his mother than he would ever be willing to admit.
Regardless, he would pressure the unwilling form of his body to move. To stand. A harsh huff of air departed him, ribs screaming for their reprieve only met with callous resolve. So long as his head wasn't separated from his shoulders, it mattered not the plight the rest of him suffered. He could bleed out, and he could be revived. Such a thing had happened before, an escape cruelly denied. He held his doubts that anyone else would spare time or attention for the mortal, however. "Get up." He growled, vocals guttural as the hand belonging to his good arm would reach down in an attempt to drag Fin to a stand the best he could. Lightening danced fatally close by, ending a life with a disconcerting wail. His skin prickled in response to the proximity as he ripped the magic ring from the swollen finger where already traces of the dog's venom could be discovered.
He forced his thoughts to focus upon his own house, clamping his eyes shut as the world began to precariously tilt to and fro. Tossing the ring, the door would open, and there was a familiar room upon the other side. Dim, dark. But there. Without wasting time, he would shove the boy through, perhaps the motion was rougher than he had initially intended, but he made it through regardless, and Theo would stagger after him. Upon bidding the portal to close, it did so.
And it was like they were never amidst that hell.
The commotion didn't go unnoticed as already the maid was rushing towards them, her footfalls heavy down the stairs as the vampire slouched unceremoniously into the armchair that faced the empty hearth. "Maria," he spoke as soon as she reached the threshold, not wanting to hear her animated questioning or her normal antics, "can you fetch a healer? Someone who will tend a human. A mortal." He drug in a deep breath, exhaled it, and seeming to sense his mood, the young woman would merely nod, and as she started to step away, he would add: "I don't want anyone to know we're here." She stiffened slightly, but once again bobbed her head.
Silver would slowly open, looking to wherever Fin had managed to. "You'll be safe here." He assured, allowing his eyelids to once again fall. For the first time he could recall in any recent age, he was grateful for the presence of the peaceful darkness belonging to Lavalles's shade.
RE: blood in the water - Fineás - 04-23-2024
RE: blood in the water - Theodred - 05-15-2024
No matter how he wanted to resign himself to the exhaustion creeping unnaturally at his bones, his cerebrum was held prisoner to his own body. To the sensations that flooded through his form like wild fire, setting his very veins alight. Alas, illuminated silver would simply turn upwards, to the ceiling which so delicately drifted this way and that with his unfocused sights set upon the intricacy of the tiles. The room was large, cavernous, he would have often claimed, but it was filled comfortably so. The furniture within was plush, lavish. The large chandelier that lingered overhead was dark, its multitude of candles bidding but a spark of magic to unfurl the stretch of light to reveal more details. Like the embroidery of a tapestry and its twin on either side of the large hearth. The couch Fineas found himself on set before a low, well crafted mahogany table. A few glasses settled upon its surface, though from the distance and the sway of his sights, he couldn't see if they had been recently used. He had figured Maria bright enough to speak if she had a guest somewhere in the estate.
”Theodred,” he would blink a few times, trying to clear the haze away as his head tilted faintly upon its axis to better peer at the sundered youth, a low grunt his only answer as both his arms settled upon the rests of his chair, sinking into the warm comfort of its familiarity. He'd spent many hours here before being stationed to Dunmeath. Leisure found him reading here often. “What the hell was that?” Despite his attempt at a somewhat normal vocality, the spitfire seemed exasperated, stressed by something other than the obvious disdain of injury. A low hum reverberated within his chest as he considered the words. As his thoughts were taken back to those last moments within the destruction of the city. How far had it spread? He should have probably remained, simply assured safety for Fin. It wasn't just normal magic, that much was certain. Even as close as that perilous bolt had struck to them, he had sensed only it, no tangible threads of the arcane to connect it to. Even the tongues of destructive fire that had roared to life from over head had been based only from the heavens, masked in its origin otherwise. "I don't know." He answered in earnest. He swallowed thickly. "I've never seen anything like that before."
His movement snared his focus, dull gaze dragging with agonizing slowness over the smeared carmine that darkened his face, that made itself home. He dared not breathe any longer, and it was difficult to finally pull the full of his focus to the mismatched intensity of a now unveiled gaze in whole. What did that cutting eye see when it looked to him now? He'd heard the merchants claim that it could pierce disguises, but what now? When no illusion covered him, was it a simple corpse he witnessed with it? “A mortal healer? What good… will that do?” The next words that left him forced sterling from him entirely, once again finding their way to the ceiling. To trace the patterns scrawled there by attentive artists much too enamored with their craft. “Besides I thought the damned needed blood to recover. ’specially when it came to nasty bites.”
His words were drawn in darkness as he finally spoke after a long pause, as he refrained the threads of control within his grip. "The healer is for you. Someone who will tend to human mortals." The explanation was rather nonchalant, though he still didn't allow his appraisal the opportunity to drag over the crimson stains once again. "And do not tempt me." It was here his intonation drug along with a soft threat, a grave warning. There would be no escaping the reality of his condition, of what it was that his frame currently demanded against stark reasoning. For now, however, he could still remain within the firm illusion of sanity.
He could feel the youth's eyes upon his arm, the one that seared with malady. The one that spasmed tautly with the effects of the toxins coursing through dark veins. His fingers twitched along the arm of the chair, gripping, releasing without reason or cause as the effects ravaged through the limb. It would take its time to mend, even with ichor, a reminder whispered in the otherworldly heat that poured through it.
“Theo?” His brow piqued lightly in response to the far less than formal address. It felt like a lifetime ago before someone had called him that, as simple a notion as it was. “Thanks… for all that.” This was also a foreign concept, something strange that left him somewhat unsettled. He shouldn't be thanked for this - for even as helpful as his aid had been, Fineas never should have been present. Especially not side by side with them on the front lines for this fiasco. No boy should have witnessed and been apart of the horrors that war wrought on either side of the coin. In truth, he felt as though he should be apologizing, despite it not being his hand that had brought him. Slowly, his crown would shake, though he still did not bring his gaze back to those blood dappled features. "There's no need to thank me."
”Theodred,” he would blink a few times, trying to clear the haze away as his head tilted faintly upon its axis to better peer at the sundered youth, a low grunt his only answer as both his arms settled upon the rests of his chair, sinking into the warm comfort of its familiarity. He'd spent many hours here before being stationed to Dunmeath. Leisure found him reading here often. “What the hell was that?” Despite his attempt at a somewhat normal vocality, the spitfire seemed exasperated, stressed by something other than the obvious disdain of injury. A low hum reverberated within his chest as he considered the words. As his thoughts were taken back to those last moments within the destruction of the city. How far had it spread? He should have probably remained, simply assured safety for Fin. It wasn't just normal magic, that much was certain. Even as close as that perilous bolt had struck to them, he had sensed only it, no tangible threads of the arcane to connect it to. Even the tongues of destructive fire that had roared to life from over head had been based only from the heavens, masked in its origin otherwise. "I don't know." He answered in earnest. He swallowed thickly. "I've never seen anything like that before."
His movement snared his focus, dull gaze dragging with agonizing slowness over the smeared carmine that darkened his face, that made itself home. He dared not breathe any longer, and it was difficult to finally pull the full of his focus to the mismatched intensity of a now unveiled gaze in whole. What did that cutting eye see when it looked to him now? He'd heard the merchants claim that it could pierce disguises, but what now? When no illusion covered him, was it a simple corpse he witnessed with it? “A mortal healer? What good… will that do?” The next words that left him forced sterling from him entirely, once again finding their way to the ceiling. To trace the patterns scrawled there by attentive artists much too enamored with their craft. “Besides I thought the damned needed blood to recover. ’specially when it came to nasty bites.”
His words were drawn in darkness as he finally spoke after a long pause, as he refrained the threads of control within his grip. "The healer is for you. Someone who will tend to human mortals." The explanation was rather nonchalant, though he still didn't allow his appraisal the opportunity to drag over the crimson stains once again. "And do not tempt me." It was here his intonation drug along with a soft threat, a grave warning. There would be no escaping the reality of his condition, of what it was that his frame currently demanded against stark reasoning. For now, however, he could still remain within the firm illusion of sanity.
He could feel the youth's eyes upon his arm, the one that seared with malady. The one that spasmed tautly with the effects of the toxins coursing through dark veins. His fingers twitched along the arm of the chair, gripping, releasing without reason or cause as the effects ravaged through the limb. It would take its time to mend, even with ichor, a reminder whispered in the otherworldly heat that poured through it.
“Theo?” His brow piqued lightly in response to the far less than formal address. It felt like a lifetime ago before someone had called him that, as simple a notion as it was. “Thanks… for all that.” This was also a foreign concept, something strange that left him somewhat unsettled. He shouldn't be thanked for this - for even as helpful as his aid had been, Fineas never should have been present. Especially not side by side with them on the front lines for this fiasco. No boy should have witnessed and been apart of the horrors that war wrought on either side of the coin. In truth, he felt as though he should be apologizing, despite it not being his hand that had brought him. Slowly, his crown would shake, though he still did not bring his gaze back to those blood dappled features. "There's no need to thank me."