Eleasis 13 1370 dr

[child_of_bhaal]

Who: Syeira and YOU
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Red Fish, other ships, Iskaulit
When: Beginning 8/10 and ongoing

[Red Fish]

Hello Red Fish. Here she is. Again. Clean as a whistle, in her clothes that should be less than dust, all neat and tidy. Even her hair is brushed. But somehow she still looks like a wreck. Probably due to the all over flush and the sweating due to her raging fever. And also the fact that she feels as weak as a newborn kitten. She stumbles, leaning heavily against walls when she can't keep to her feet.

[On your ship, her first week back]

Somehow, she's there. Feverish, very likely still dressed for bed. Because that's where she ought to be. But no, she's on your ship. Wandering around, maybe looking for someone, or something. Talking to herself softly, deliriously. How did she fly a shuttle in this condition? Probably very poorly.

"Here...Here? Wrong place. Or the right place?"

[Iskaulit, first week]

She has a stick of charcoal in her hand and she's chosen some spot, a wall or floor, perhaps in the garden or the gym, or one of the bars or even a hallway, and she's furiously drawing. It's just lines and smudges in black on black. The more she tries to make it make sense, the less it seems to, and the more her obvious frustration grows.

"I saw...I saw but it won't come out..." There's black streaks across her face, her hands and on her shift. She's still a weak, feverish mess.

Comments

On the S.S.Paisley

[valiantfire]

Fingon frowned in concern when he saw a young woman he did not recognize. She did not look well so the Elf stopped in her path, hands held out non-threatening.

"I know not where you are to be. But you are welcome here, on the Paisley. Are you hungry?"

[child_of_bhaal]

"Hell." It sounds like an answer, but she's not looking directly at the speaker. Until she does. Her hairline is soaked with fever-sweat and her green eyes have pupils gone down to pinpricks, but those widen as they look up.

"Shining elf...Arda." And suddenly she grows anxious, afraid. She reaches out and grabs him buy the shirt sleeve. "Finrod! Maglor! I have to go! I have to find them! I have to save them!"

And then in confused delirium, she tries to rush past him. Though it's clear she has no idea where she is or where she's going.

[valiantfire]

This woman knew his cousins! Fingon gently rest a hand on her elbow, supporting. "My cousin Maglor is well. I have not seen Finrod yet." He didn't know what had happened to them, but it was clear she needed reassurance.

He tried to restrain her, without hurting her. "I will gladly take you to Maglor, if you will come with me?"

[child_of_bhaal]

Her energy disapates as fast as it came, leaving her more drained and tired. She half stumbles, leaning against the elf heavily. She barely keeps her feet. And where her face is hot enough he would feel it through cloth, and even where he holds her arm her skin is over-warm.

"Maglor...need to find him...please." That is as clear a yes as she can probably get.

Red Fish

[dontthinkaboutelephants]

It seems like it's been weeks and weeks. He hadn't trusted them. Didn't think it was really possible. How a man can be involved with something like dream sharing and be so skeptical is crazy, but it's how he is.

He still looks awful. He's carrying himself like he's sore, and he's a sickly pale, looking like he hasn't gone out in the sun since she died. At least he's shaved, though he missed a tiny spot on his jaw. It's easier this way, to shave and dress in his suits. People don't notice you're broken when you tape up the cracks.

She looks like a ghost when he first sees her, a specter that's been haunting his mind from the moment she turned into that creature and ran from them. When she stumbles, something clicks in his mind. This is real. She's here. She's here. He moves toward her, a step at a time. And then suddenly, he's holding her up, and she's there and warm and safe.

"Syeira, God-" he chokes out before he leans forward, pressing his lips to hers, squeezing his eyes shut tight against the threat of tears.

[child_of_bhaal]

She's warm in his arms. Extremely warm, like your could cook eggs on her skin. And when he takes her weigh, it's heavy, as she doesn't have the strength in her to help him at all.

She makes a muffled "mmmf" sound when his lips press to hers. She parts her lips mostly to relieve the sight pressure and give her room to breathe. It's really not the best time to kiss her. She's most assuredly not in property condition to appreciate it.

[dontthinkaboutelephants]

Okay, something's definitely wrong. He pulls away and holds her steady when she's not holding herself steady.

"Syeira," he breathes out questioningly. He wipes a strand of hair out of her face, checking her forehead and cursing. "You've got a fever. Come on."

And he's just going to haul her up in his arms bridal-style, petting back her hair. "Hold on, okay? We'll get you in your bed."

Iskaulit

[bythewaves]

It is probably terrible of him to spend so much time at the bar (Fingon is here, Maedhros no longer needs him, Father is gone, Syeira is... )

Sometimes, Maglor thinks that Finrod is going to kick his arse when he realises how much his cousin is drinking. But. He likes Tyrion's company, too.

So he comes often to the bar here, and he walks the decks and considers a little half-heartedly the plans he had for a music shop. He isn't expecting to hear Syeira's voice (but why not? All his ghosts are his victims, in one way or another, why not her, too?), and wistfully, he follows it (stupid, Makalaure, you know you can never actually find...

.............. )

"Syeira?"

[child_of_bhaal]

She's on her knees, rubbing charcoal furiously at the wall, trying to make a shape, but it's just scribble. She exhales a harsh, frustrated noise, slapping her hand over the markings that make no sense. Then she hears her name and turns her head.

"I'm not mad! I saw it!" There's a fine how-do-you-do. But she's still sick with fever and exhaustion. She likely has no idea what ship she's even on, let alone she's seeing her dear friend for the first time since the forest.

"I see it, but I can't-" She attacks the wall again slashing at it with her charcoal.

[bythewaves]

She's not well, and he puts aside the "how can she be here" question for the more immediate worry.

"Easy, Easy." He is by her side in moments, catching her arms gently, but firmly.

"You are burning up, little fire-hair. And I know you are not mad. But you are exhausted, you need to rest!"

Red Fish

[girlverine]

[Laura is in the cargo hold with her fuzzy slug things, and she smells Syeira before she hears her. That faintly, off-putting sense of someone clearly ill. She's just putting the slug she was holding back into one of the tanks when the door opens, and she turns, frowning at the taller woman. Hmm. She knew of her, but hadn't really met her...the problem of spending so much time alone.]

You are ill.

[So helpful, Laura.]

[child_of_bhaal]

[Incredibly helpful. It strikes her as funny, prompting a moment of clarity through the fever haze.]

Is that what this is? I hate it.

[The little chuckle costs her, and she needs to drapes about 3/4 of herself against the nearest wall.]

This isn't Hell.

[The observation is mildly puzzled.]

[girlverine]

No, it isn't.

[She should know, she's been there. When the woman slumps, Laura moves over towards her, not quite close enough to touch, but if she fell, the teen could catch her.]

You are on the Red Fish.

Red Fish

[theboogieman]

[well, well, well. here he was, set to mope it out for the next couple of months... until he gets to the top of the cargo bay stairs, turns into the hallway, and sees an incredibly familiar figure at the other end.

and for once he looks shocked, the dark blocky shapes around his eyes stretching wider as his hand instinctively reaches towards the knife he keeps holstered at his side.

you can't blame him. she's supposed to be dead, and he's spent an astounding amount of his life destroying dead things that have come back to life. he wants to believe it, but he's been tricked before. he waits, hand hovering over his side, not blinking or breathing for fear of dispelling whatever moment he's stumbled into.]

[child_of_bhaal]

[Were she in a condition for it, she would absolutely understand his caution. She should be dead. Dead and gone, never to be retrieved. Lost in an eternal realm of torment she doesn't deserve. But, here she is, walking woozily, until the handful of steps wears her out and she reaches for the wall.

It takes her far too long to notice him. When she does, it's a slow raising of her head, taking him in from boots to floofy hair. There's a slow, exhausted little smile that tries in vain to light up her paled-but-not-corpse-pale face. She always is glad to see him.]

Zhas...

[Her voice is hoarse, like she's trying to do a bad impression of how he talks. It's just from lack of use though.]

[theboogieman]

[he wants to believe, with all the logical parts of his mind, body, and heart, that this is some kind of awful trap. but oh, how he has this gift for knowing when something is evil, when something is dangerous--and he knows now, in the pit of this stomach, that the thing in front of him is neither.

it doesn't make any sense. doesn't add up. doesn't do a lot of things, but that also doesn't stop him from forgetting about his weapon to hurry up to her and grab her face between his hands and feel her warm skin and her heartbeat and know that she really is--she really is here.

he makes this sound, this horrible... choking noise as every part of the last few weeks crushes his reservations and his windpipe along with it. he grabs onto her and drags her in as close as he can, holding onto her like he's afraid she'll disappear if he ever lets go again.

...at least now she doesn't have to worry about holding herself up. he's got it.]

For Bill

[child_of_bhaal]

When Syeira sleeps, she dreams, more often than when she doesn't. There are dreams of dark, evil things, she cannot recall when she wakes. They confuse her and spur her up below her fever riddled mind can adjust, leaving her in of places trying to decipher if she's still asleep or not.

But other times, she dreams of Candlekeep. Of the Taint of Bhaal that wears Imoen's face, raging at her, at Atroma. Whatever it's in the mood for. Tonight, Syeira runs in her dream, chased by a girl with short, pink hair, who stalks with the patience only villains possess. But that patience is strained to its shattering point.

"You cannot deny your fate! Your destiny!" The Taint bellows as Syeira runs past rows and rows of bookshelves. Books explode, pages bursting into the isles, just barely behind her. Syeira doesn't look back, just runs for the door at the end of the long hall. She opens it, and slams it behind her.

The Taint can still be heard loud and clear, even through the thick wood of the door. This is only a moment of respite.

[tetractys]

He starts where the dreamer is, because that's how it usually goes. There's someone else in here, layered heavy over the plane of the mindscape like a fog of humidity. Yuck.

Bill's flash of frustration is, fortunately, silent. This had better not be Hot Wheels interfering. No, no, whatever's in here is too old for that. Some kind of patron deity. Great.

At least chasing dreams are fairly standard. He makes a split-second decision; he figures this has an 80% chance to win over the kid and a 100% chance to bring whatever musty old Unspeakable Being is hovering around here down on his head. Sounds like fun to him.

Syeria shuts herself in at the end of the hall and a pale hand taps her on the shoulder. It belongs to an exact duplicate of her, waiting in the room already like they're both assistants in a stage magician's grand illusion.

The double presses a finger over her grinning lips - Shh! - and winks conspiratorially. Ever play a shell game before, kid?

[child_of_bhaal]

Syeira is not a normal dreamer. All her dreams are lucid, at least her usual ones are. And this is one of the usual type. So seeing a replica of herself isn't something she just accepts.

She hasn't seen her soul since the day Irenicus ripped it out of her. Not that she didn't get it back, but it hasn't been a prominent figure in the dreamscape anymore. And it never found this kind of situation to be fun or funny. It also never took on her form. Not to her anyway.

With all that in mind, Syeira responds with a very specific surety. She lunges at her doppelganger, shoving her atm against its throat, pinning it against the door.

"Who are you? What are your doing in here?" Not omniscient, but definitely very self aware in her own subconscious.

Starstruck

[lord_wizard]

He recognizes her from the back even before he can see her and shape she's in. For a brief moment, like his own piece of delirium, he wonders if maybe he's seeing her ghost. He sucks in a breath, feeling a shiver creep over him, until something more rational makes it's way into his mind. She doesn't look like a spirit. There's none of that glassy transparency to her, but he finds himself reaching out to tap her shoulder, just to be sure.

"Syeira? Are you--"

[child_of_bhaal]

That tap takes her by surprise. And while normally, she might just turn her head, at the moment she's not in her rightest mind. Her fevered brain has her confused and on edge, so she whips around, instantly aggressive. Her hand come up, ready to strike, and her eyes flash gold.

She very nearly strikes out, but Felix is lucky. His hair, very like in color to her own, makes her pause, gives her cooking nerves time to catch up.

"Felix..." And she finally recognizes him. Her hands lower slowly, having no use suddenly. Her irises bleed back to green. "Felix, it's you."

[lord_wizard]

He flinches back instantly, hands raised defensively to ward off a strike, as if he had any chance against anyone truly determined, and ends up mirroring her as he slowly lowers them, transfixed by the slow fade of her eyes from gold to their usual color. Is this part of her hidden nature, or whatever has happened to her while she'd been dead. Meddling from Atroma here was a given, but to what extent?

"Yes, it is me. It is, after all, my ship." The moment of weak levity falters as he continues to stare at her, concerned. "And is it really you?"

on the Bishop

[faithfulwisdom]

"Syeira!"

For once, all decorum is tossed to the side, and Finrod rushes forward, pulling her into a hug. "The right place. This is very much the right place."

But frowns a little as he pulls back, examining her face. "But you should not have come in this condition; I would have come to you, you know."

I'm so sorry this took forever

[child_of_bhaal]

He could pick her up and wave her like a flag for all that she resists. She's practically noodle limp in his hold. It may very well be that he's the only thing keeping her up.

And he talks far too fast. She's got a fever hot enough to boil her brain, there's no way she can keep up with his exuberance. She frowns right back at him.

"I had to. You get in so much trouble." Forgive her as she, the blackest of pots, makes observations upon his kettle personage.

Speaking of taking forever...

[faithfulwisdom]

"You are hardly one to talk, my friend." He's still grinning, though. That grin is going to stay on his face for quite a while.

"Come, sit." He pulls up the nearest chair and gently sets her down it. "Let me fetch you some water."