driftfleet | 004 // the house of sin

Who: Dorian and assorted guests
Broadcast: Fleet-wide, 3/10
Action: In a villa practically in the forest (THE HOUSE OF SIN)
When: Broadcast- 3/10 // Action- 3/9-3/31? Until we leave.

Broadcast:

[The broadcast goes out on 3/10, and Dorian smirks a bit into the feed.]

I believe I've secured lodging for myself, with room enough for several others. If you need a place to stay, do let me know. It's a quaint little villa a bit outside of town. ...please don't mind the suspicious glances, I assure you, I've done nothing entirely against the guidelines that were set.

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Action:

[Dorian has secured a villa, but the residents of Mor don't seem too keen on having an evil mage for a neighbor. As the month goes on, more and more villagers will show up to stand at the gates of the villa and threaten to come in after the "evil wizard".

Maybe he shouldn't have gone so overboard with the whole "contacting the spirits of the dead" thing.]

((OOC: Mingle post for the House of Sin. We'll pretend there are enough rooms in here for everyone! Even if you character only drops by to rest their feet a bit, everyone is welcome to visit and stay the night if they want.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[the call always starts subtle. just little compulsions--

pick up the necklace.

keep it safe.

don't let it go.

and it isn't until hours later that the energy within it really starts to stick, reach out, reach in, and infect.

it whispers so quietly, nudging its keeper's thoughts in the direction of the nearest graveyards. it suggests that he should think about all of the places where death is likely to be found, never expecting that its keeper may have the capacity to detect its voice, let alone the possibility of disagreeing with it. so it will just continue its sneaking bits of communication, growing fractions more insistent as the sun goes down.]

[Dorian isn't certain what first drove him to pick up the necklace, but every time he's in his room, his eyes glance to it, the necklace in the back of his mind even as he leaves the room. At one point he leaves, and then feels like he's itching to have it back in his hands.

He turns around, goes back, picks it up, and he stares at it.

There was certainly something off about it.]

What are you?

[He muses, quietly.]

[it's much more comfortable to actually have the thing in hand--though whether it's Dorian himself who is more comfortable, or the necklace, is hard to tell.

and it really is a lovely thing. the shape of an inverted teardrop, the violet stone is full of depth and darkness, with maybe the faintest hint of light or sparkle deep in its heart.

why would anyone want to put it down? it's obviously a treasure; he should probably just wear it from now on.

if he doesn't carry it with him, someone might take it.

all of that battle for nothing.

he should keep it.]

[Dorian glowers down at it. He's no stranger to things like that, thoughts that were darker pressing into his mind, and he looks down at it.

Perhaps it was cursed. That would be poetic, wouldn't it? A cursed amulet.

Experimentally, he holds it up, suspending it in the air between his hands, and he find the energy in it and gives it a tiny tug with his mind.

Mages.]

[mages indeed.

it's not so hard to find the energy hiding inside when a little focus is applied. it really doesn't have much to spare for a better disguise.

and it sings, silently, when it's tugged on--like a plucked string, sending out vibrations in response. to anything listening with a particular penchant for the workings of souls... the response tastes distinctly of pain.

don't tug too hard, or it might really get hurt.]

[He tilts his head, looking it over. A soul, bound to it, it would seem. Curious, terribly curious.]

I do wonder...

[He brings a hand to his chin, thinking. That would explain the odd fixation, the compulsions he felt with regard to it.

He doesn't try to pry the soul free, instead he feeds more mana into it, trying almost to grow it with magic. Perhaps it might have something to say.]

[it absorbs it quick--hungry, but without much power behind it. and it uses the mana like fast-burning fuel. it chews it up as fast as it's fed, only amplified for seconds before it loses strength again.

but it those seconds, it reaches desperately and distinctly for its keeper. the more it sticks to him, the stronger its messages become, both in clarity and in compulsion.

a dead body. it needs one.

he should find one.]

Do I look like a graverobber?

[He looks at the necklace, tut-tuting like he's chastising a child.

Dorian has always been remarkably strong-willed, and how that he knows where those urges are coming from, it's easier to resist them.]

I will find something.

[there is a definite hesitation in the connection, then. perhaps it can sense that it is being argued with, because when the messages eventually resume, they redouble in their efforts and insistence. it picks and scratches at that wall of will, digging hard with little talons.

it needs a body.

it needs. it must have one.

soon. soon. soon.]

[Okay, that was annoying. He frowns a bit, sighing.]

I'm not going to defile the dead just so you can wander around again. We will have to compromise.

[He knows it will be easier, just to give into that temptation. To go against what he knows is right, just give it what it wants.]

[there is no compromise--and the feeling that goes along with that notion is much more powered by desperation than aggression.

then, things dissolve a little bit. the messages that follow it are maybe meant to be pleas, maybe reasoning, but it's too unclear. just watery, amorphous, desperate, yanking tugs on his mind.]

[It feels like something clawing up his spine, and Dorian sets in his heels. Desperate spirit, meet a will of iron.

He plucks the necklace from the air, shaking his head softly and setting it back down, taking a step or two away from it, folding his arms across his chest.]

I will fix this, but I refuse to steal a body for you. I'll have to devise some other way.

[and though dragons wield an unspeakable amount of power and hold overwhelming sway over many things in the world... there is only so much that he can do as only a fraction of soul, barely clinging to the mortal plane.

the stone's influence grows tangibly weaker at even a few paces more of distance.

with that bit more of space between them, the message becomes unclear, beyond pleading claws of influence hooking frantically at him.

don't leave.]

Oh, don't tell me you're lonely.

[Dorian sighs softly, stepping back forward, picking up the necklace.]

Very well, I will keep you company if you cease the clawing at my mind to fetch you a body.

Edited 2015-03-30 01:34 (UTC)

[it's so clingy at a real touch, soaking right in against another soul.

and maybe it didn't truly hear the instruction, because the urge to hunt down a corpse resumes as soon as he picks up the necklace.]

004 // the house of sin

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