Calibrations Spill-Over Post

[thespaceopera]

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→ Calibration post A-M
→ Calibration post N-Z

Comments

[catamite]

[this is... not exactly where he expected to find himself. he putters around a little bit, looking without touching, listening for sounds.

eventually, though... the things on the bed do draw his attention. and being the tactile person he is... he just has to touch the scarf.]

[arcanepower]

[The scarf is tattered at the edges and worn from use, but it is warm and soft nonetheless, as if someone were just wearing it. The surroundings melt away like peering out a window during a rainstorm.

Fading in, there's a group of tiny islands just off a woodsy shore; Nel's perch is close enough to see two elves facing off on the largest one. The sky around them is tense and stormy. Water plummets from the sky in big fat droplets, and the waves crash impatiently against the rocks.

One of them is Belthazar dressed in ragged blue-violet robes. Their sorry state is not helped by the wind whipping at them, threatening to toss the orphan into the sea. A few yards away is a taller figure wearing a red scarf over the lower half of his face. He has long dark hair made slick and heavy by the rain. Most striking is his plate armor, which is black and red. A broadsword in his hand pulses softly with light, illuminating their staredown.

Belth steps forward, his hands balled into fists. He's trembling. His voice squeaks in places as he tries to be heard.]

Stop running away. I know who you are, brother. If you will not reveal yourself to me, then I will do it myself!

[The armored man shakes his head. He speaks slowly and deliberately.]

Don't do this.

You started it when you set foot in Silvermoon. You started it when you-- you left! [Belth's voice is snatched in snippets by the wind, but his intent is clear. Arcane energy crackles and swirls around him. Everything is salty sea and the sharpness of ozone. He lifts his hands and summons a staff, which aids his focus, while his free hand lets loose a massive wave of arcane lightning.

The other elf doesn't take the hit. The magic dissolves before him, dissipating sadly against a glowing barrier.

This only serves to anger Belthazar more. He runs forward, face contorted with pain, screaming so loud his voice breaks.]

MELKIOOOORRRRR—!

[-- That's when the memory cuts out. The shout seems to echo off the walls of the small room Nel is still miraculously standing in.

The scarf, however, has been ripped in half.]