Post by Darrien on Jun 5, 2008 6:36:59 GMT -5
Eyren--- empty, her hands were empty now, the corridor in which she'd been left standing was empty; save for the still unconscious body of the primal one called Creature. She could taste the strong metallic of panic as it rose up from the depts of her soul, left alone, she was alone again, yet logic would argue that no she was not alone, there was Creature. She was just sleeping; a lie she forced her mind to hang on to, if only for a lovely minute. Fighting down the urge to yell after them she fell to her knees, and inched closer to the still figure. She allowed herself to scan the curled figure; so many scars, what tales would they tell? Her hands trembling she grabs a hold of herself, forcing herself to remember her initial reason for having sought out the pixie Thea as mentor. "Heal .. fix ..." She let these three words run in a reel through her mind as her fingers fumbled for the simple pouch that never left her waist. Healing her, would make her real, someone who could fill up the roaring presence of silence that was slowly but surely bearing down upon her with each passing moment that there was no sound, save for the frantic beating of her heart, and ragged breaths that issued forth from Creature. Gently Eyren set her hand to run lightly over first shoulder, then neck, her fingers stilling at intervals to catch what fragmented energies she could pick up in her current state of disrupted calm, then suddenly there was a crackling, and a scent that recalled burnt feathers filled her nostrils. With a yelp Eyren quickly takes her hands from Creature, seeing that somehow flames, as opposed to the cool calming mana she'd intended were dancing along the tips of her fingers. She'd watch as Creatures body would flinch; the pain having reached her even in that deep chasm of sleep. An apology rose to her lips as she made to extinguish the flames but to know avail, she wasn't calm, she needed to calm herself, or she'd be more harm than help to the unconscious nomad.
Everything felt thick. It was like treading through a marsh where all the water had mired into blood, raising the humidity to a difficult percentage. The particles of the air tasted of rust. "A vampire's dream," Darrien thought, trying to distract himself with at least a little humor. The fact of the matter was he did not mind it one bit. He nearly doubled over when his torso did not seem to catch the signal to stop along with his legs. "A vampire," he thought aloud with great nostalgia, "Of course." And then he would continue on, a bit more pensive, but not any less distraught. The anesthetic aftermath of his couple of hours crying kept his knotted emotions to his interior, within that tortured heart still only several hundred heartbeats reborn. He loathed everything about being alone, thanks to the properties of this elusive dungeon. Sparking the notion that he was alone, but alone together with Eyren was enough to keep his ungainly legs running. ~~~~~~ The path ahead of him no longer consisted of cryptic dead ends and worrisome turns, but comprised of chutes, holes, and impossible staircases in every direction. No longer having to echolocate with his tongue, as the labyrinth made quite sure to render it useless, Darrien whistled a tune from his lips in the style of a wooden flute. As he dropped into the strangest tubular slide yet, he was sure the others would hear him and follow, Jaidin, Vael, Tenebrae, Eyren, and even that dear nomad. Absolutely sure. About ten-seconds into the darkness, the indigenous melody turned into what sounded like a bird dying a slow, wretched and painful death.
Darrien had gone his route. But there were two left to chose from. Which way, Vael wondered, his eyes drifting from one to the other. Which way would lead him to this ship's heart, the place that could make Tenebrae, a woman who normally showed little fear, if any at all, waver. And then his path was chosen, his boots singing off the floor underfoot. While Darrien's path became flooded with blood, his remained dry, twisting this way and that, even sloping up and down, branching off only to reconnect with itself somewhere else. He wished he had Tenebrae with him. He wished he had his beloved Creature with him. The near silence would have been more barable, then. Coincidence. Those that might be coming up on the split paths might think it just that at the sound that accompanied Darrien's cry, a bestial roar echoing down the walls, emitted by the drow. "Just show me the damned way, already!" He could have sworn he heard a chuckle, dark and sadistic, deep and grating. Another bellowing roar, and down his myriad of pathways he bolted.
Plagued, the air screamed, and Christian could hear it from afar; what had cursed his beloved so? The Aeromancer hadn't a clue, but planned on finding out. Step after step, the terrain grew rougher, and with each passing stride, with each gentle step, the screams intensified. His mind became a haze, sanity's nectar flowing from him in the form of drivel, dripping mindlessly from his lower lip, yet something was odd. No, he couldn't hear the wind's call any longer, he couldn't place where -- or who -- he was. Memories of Kasyr, Estbel, and his homeland; all became dust, swept away for the moment, and all of his worries, were gone. Christian had one desire from this point: to learn the secrets of that wrecked mass, to uncover the forgotten. Water encompassed his body before Christian began his climb up the haunted hull, and somewhere in the process, a metamorphosis of body and mind had completed. Locks no longer fell in short strands of gold, but rather drifted down his body like shadow, cloaking pale pigment to the shoulders; eyes, once holding the shine of jade became black as coal, lifelessly looking forward. Most of all, Kindness became Cruelty. No longer did Riss's back display those dove-wing tattoos proudly. Instead, the man became an Avian of sort, Raven's wings fluttering ever so slightly in an ominous wind. Indeed, a storm had stirred, but not in the sea. Its eye was held, encased in wood.
Dulcinea gasped aloud as the male next to her simply disappeared as suddenly as if he had never really been there at all. What strange magic was this, that worked its wiles upon her and the ship she had boarded. The whispers that had plagued the druidess since her arrival grew steadily in intensity, never for one moment allowing her peace. To either side, the corridor stretched on, white marble walls seeming to mock her with their very serenity, and for one very brief moment, she wondered if she wasn’t back in that black Pool of chaos residing in the clan head quarters. There were only two options now. To the left or to the right. Or of course there was the door right in front of her. She blinked, a frown settling upon her worried visage, a small niggling thought appearing in the back of her mind. Perhaps she was going crazy after all. Wavering on the brink of a decision, she took a step forward, only to frown as her shoe made a slight squishing noise as it hit the ground. Where was the soft sound of leather hitting wood? Glancing down, she saw the bright crimson puddling around her feet just as she the smell hit her. That slaughterhouse smell, the one of carnage and raw meat that had been left out in the warm air. Gagging slightly, she made a choice, stepping forward and opening the door with a small movement of her wrist. Surely, whatever was behind there was better than being out here.
Jaidin strained to see in the darkness; nothing he did-- no eye-scrunching, or pulling his eyes taut from the outer corners-- produced any semblance of -anything-. He had two eyes, each utterly useless at this point. Tentative steps felt the smooth ground of the place. And hands eventually found the wall to his right, where hands that belonged to a man that didn't make an honest day's work slid along the white corridor, guiding him toward... what? At one point the man stopped suddenly. While he rubbed at the smooth skin of his face, he pondered his next move. How had he gotten here? The man remembered some details of his life-- growing up, owning a potions shop, having a wife and two children. But the more important details-- the how and why of 'now'-- were completely missing. The reputable man then chuckled aloud to himself, completely astonished at his own idiocy: magic! Of course. The human held out his left arm so that he could quickly strike it like a match with his other hand. As his right appendage slid off the limb, the left thumb lit up in a blaze that shed a good amount of life into the corridor so that he was able to see. And there-- at the end laid a woman. Finally, other life! Jaidin made his way toward the woman, and a smooth voice called out to her, "Madam!" He really never thought that he would be so happy to see a stranger.
Fire-glowing orange hues snapped about; first left- then right... even a quick glance up and down. The naga (if one could really consider her such a creature anymore thanks to the mysteriously bare legs in place of where her beautiful tail once was) was quick in getting up, or as far as her legs would curl under her body. Jaidin was quickly shot a delirious glance, the woman still not fond of anything, or anyone in this place that had obviously not been a dream- seeing as how this was the second time waking up here. Her trident still held cradled in her arms like a child reluctant to let go of its toy, the hunter had it hoisted up and held the tip pointed at the mans throat. It was humid and even muggy one could say. Nothing like the bone chilling cold that had been here the last time; was it that this 'place' had altered each time she edged her way into consciousness? Perhaps- because unlike the last time, she could see. Jaidin was given a blank stare, his intention unknown to the woman for the time being- and for that, Saiyah kept her weapon held readily just in case.
Inhale, exhale, inhale exhale, Eyren willed her self to do just that as she drew herself inward in to some semblance of calm. A calm that would last long enough to reverse the flames that she might once more attempt to see what could be done for the still form of Creature. Her eyes closed now she concentrated with everything she had in her till at last, she no longer felt the itch of flames tickling her fingers. though the sight that met her eyes upon reopening them would have her catching her breath once more. Hot, it was hot, muggy and reminiscent of the balmy jungly she'd ventured in to not so long ago with Tenebrae and Saiyah and the others. The moisture came down upon her in a chocking stench of spilt blood, and she was certain that were she to flick out her tongue, she'd taste that salty metallic taste upon the air. Then with a snap of head she cast her gaze about in search of Creature, who was no where to be seen in amidst the long expanse of blood red that stretched out be fore her. Standing quickly to her feet she felt the added weight of mod-or something resembling mud clinging to her clothing. the heat, the red, and the silence, her only companions now; and a pang of regret sang sharply in her gut as she recalled, that she'd never learned the strangers name, of whom the red brought to the forefront of her mind. She had failed to fix Creature, she'd only managed to hurt her and now .. she was gone but where? And what of the others?
Darrien remembered the wonder of a whimsical weekend; his eyelids fluttered open to agree. It would not be any other way. With a faithful wife whose only fault -as far as he was concerned- to be caring too much, two brilliant twins, and a magnificent edifice about him, this dream of a reality would not end if he could have anything to do with it. They were playing in the dressing room, donning the clothing of Darrien's wardrobe, from ornate to outlandish. As Darrien helped his daughter into a giant kiwi, Balavan slipped out of his father's sight and waddled to the laundry chute head first. The father in drag only caught the lower half of his son in his periphery before he jumped into action and down into the laundry chute. Sade, the kiwi giggled remorselessly. ~~~~~~~ Darrien awoke spasmodically with a shout, "Balavan!" reaching for the image of two small feet fading fast. To gather himself, he took deep breaths from tautly O'd lips in parallel time to Eyren's controlled breathing. Looking about, he could not discern where he had fallen from, if that was what happened at all. The realization of this solitary journey became the reality of the reality as the scene sunk in. A few tears threatened the reddening corners of his eyes, irritated from the salt of his cries. Oddly enough, the surrounding area was cavernous, complete with stalactites and stalagmites; the air, however, was no longer stale and smelled fresh. A darling breeze carried it in. "This is good news. I'm close. I can feel it. I'm so terribly knackered; just a few more minutes," Darrien muttered hazily, falling asleep again even on the hardness of the cavern floor. During the last of his cognizant moments, he swore he could hear the creak of floorboards and the mighty yell of a flustered warrior and wished mightily someone might just stumble upon him, particularly Eyren, so softly sensual and separate from what he knew of her before his death. ~~~~~~ Even in his sleep, he yearned audibly by singing, "Truly, with his thorn in your side and you don't know why. Julie dips her toe in the tide and don't know why. No, she don't know why she got all dolled up for a suicide. And when the stage lights dimmed on the fading scrim, it was morning before the cheering died. Is it too late to tell you that I don't mind?" At this, the sentient network espoused some providence, dipping Darrien's hand into a void while he subconsciously rooted his kith onward despite their location. Above all in the labyrinth, Eyren, Vaelustil, Jaidin, Dulcinea, Riss, Tenebrae and Saiyah, a hand descended from the ceiling with the bard's voice right behind it. A choice based on trust. Companionship.
Vael : It had been dry. He could have sworn it had been. But rather than the 'ting, ting' of his boots against solid ground, all he heard was 'splosh, splosh.' Why would his footfalls sound like they were going through water if he was on a dry floor? That's when he decided to chance a glance downward. The blood had come. It threatened to swallow him, to tear him from the world, to take him from those he cared for. Up he looked, ready to scream once more...but then he saw the hand. He reached, by the gods and all things unholy, how he reached! No! he screamed in his mind, I won't let you take me! He reached, and reached, but he couldn't grab hold of that hand. The ship wouldn't let him. It wasn't so much the howl of an angry predator that escaped his lips this time, rather than that of a wounded wolf as Vaelustil realised the futility of his searching grasp. Down, down into the blood he sank, down into darkness.
Riss , or what had become of him, saw no threat in the hand that sought aid in the darkest of places. Reality hadn't been real and whether Christian had known the fact or not, he felt as if he hadn't a thing to lose. He'd grip the hand, but something strange would happen. Chaos had taken a new form, no longer rejecting effects, but perpetuating them into a further state; he had changed form again, yet this time, he became a Wisp of sort. Through the ship itself, guided by the departed hand of Darrien, he'd find a way towards the owner, and ultimately, be placed beside him. The wings would return, body reshaping and Chaos calmed.
Dulcinea would never be the betting type. Sure, it was probably fun when you got a big windfall and ended up with a full gold pouch, but realistically, you were more apt to find yourself face down in an alley way, pockets clean of all but their lint. Besides, she was just bad at it. She always thought that nothing could be as bad as what was currently happening, but the universe was a strange and fickle creature. And things could always bet worse. The door she had gone through fell completely open, bright light filling her vision until everything disappeared. Her hand flew up to shield her face, eyes closing against the painful, brilliant intensity of the glow. Oh no, she did not like this place, she did not like it one bit. As the light lessened, she was able to slowly open her eyes, one squinch at a time. Blinking, trying to clear the dots from her vision, she gradually became aware that she was not alone. The room was done grey tones, muted and flat, nothing that would catch the eye, or divert the viewer from the main feature of the room. That Other. Idly, Dulci would note that the door behind her had vanish, as easily as it had appeared but other than that, her attention was completely focused on this other being. There was something important here, something that she needed to understand. This was why she had been compelled here all along, why her package had been diverted because the Hanging Corpse Tavern had been razed. The voices, whispers, noise in her head, her constant companion through the Labyrinth suddenly seemed to coalesce into one single tone, one voice rising above to cacophony to fill her head. The figure’s back was to her, all she could see was dark hair, a lithe, curvaceous form incased in dark leather. Obviously female. There was something so familiar about her, yet, she did not know this person. Dulcinea would press forward, her hand reaching out to touch the shoulder of the other woman. Finally, someone else. Maybe she knew the way out! “Please, I need…” Her hand touched leather and before the healer could finish the statement, the Other turned, facing her. The voice in her mind became a screech and whimpering, she fell to her knees, staring up at…herself? An older, eerily scary version to be sure, but still hard to mistake for anyone else. There was a scar bisecting the woman’s lip, the smile that touched her face turning gruesome from that anomaly. Her mouth opened and what came out, wasn’t quite a familiar sound. “We’ve been expecting you.” A hand all encased in leather came towards her, and Dulci knew for certain, that she could not allow the image, the vision or whatever it was to make contact. Her empathic awareness would only be strengthened by such a touch and she did not want to know what was in the Other’s soul. The voice in her head grew stronger, louder, the only thing that was real to her, freezing her in place. She knew she was doomed. And then…the strangest thing happened. Another voice…a sound, not in her head, but from outside, came to her. And this wasn’t scary or repulsive, but beautiful and comforting. And when that hand came towards her, she didn’t think, simply acted. She was safe. The Other couldn’t get her. For now.
Jaidin halted immediately; and though he'd been walking, the intensity of that action was much more akin to skidding to a halt from running. "Madam!" He held both hands up in a defensive position-- one that atones 'calm', and for a moment, with the surprise of that trident poised at his throat, the flame of his thumb flickered. But he caught his breath with the usual smoothness that his voice implied, and it was fully lit once more, casting eerie shadows on the white, smooth walls that surrounded them... Strangely enough, nothing looked familiar from the way he had come from. "I mean you no harm, madam; I thought merely you could tell me where it is that I am." Eyes so brilliant and strange of a shade looked down at her form, a questioning countenance at her position. "Are you all right?" With caution, as one might extend a hand to a feral beast of questionable wildness, the mage lowered his to the woman with orange eyes, and lofted a brow as he inquired, "May I help you up?" As he waited her answer, flame-lit hand held away from his form, he wished she would hurry-- sweat was forming on his brow and the back of his neck, not to mention any other areas. He wasn't the underfed Traye... He was the twenty-pound-plus version, and the heat in here was bad enough; not to mention the muggy qualities of the air that was nearly stifling. Had the temperature changed this quickly, this much? Surely it was not from walking that short distance... From the heavens, materialized in the middle of no where; afore them, above them, all around them: a voice so beautiful it cast away any fears and immediately he made to find the source. What was left was a single hand. Even such was crafted of perfection, an invitation of welcome, peace, love; Saiyah was forgotten for the moment as he reached toward it in awe and wonderment. Was this the key to survival, life, existence? Did Sven speak? Then all shifted. All went wrong. Nothing was the same; the walls bled, literally. The obsidian floor they stood on went plummeting downward, and that hand went ever upward. Whatever it was, Mr. Koirihn could not reach it. Oh, but did he ever try! The human jumped up and down, bending at the knees for more height; but alas, it was all to no avail. With a crumpled disposition and fear clogging his throat, the pair fell upon the platform of black to what dismal pits one could only imagine.
Saiyah 's trident, in time, had lowered its self away from the deadly threatening poise it had just been at, and was left to rest heavily on the ground just before Traye's feet. Those orange glowing eyes, how they seemed to put off their own flicker of a flame in the dark, almost matching the small flicker on the tip of the mage's finger. She sat there, still sitting on her curled up legs- which now began to ache- and stared up at the man with that near death-like silence in her stare; nothing like the loud, spoken emotions of her jade-green hues that she so dearly missed right now, much like the rest of her lower half. Well, he seemed passive enough to not be much of a threat, almost as much as the other woman she had met the first time her mind was being so brutally tormented by this morbidly chaotic labyrinth. "I..was wondering if you..knew.." Like a faint breeze, brushing past ones ears on a calm, spring day- the naga's voice was a whisper towards the humans figure. What ever it was about this place, this thing..it had not only stripped her of her tail, but in turn granted her the one thing she had wished and desired her whole life. A voice. But this voice of hers would go unheard for that of another, so beautiful and melodic that it washed away all fear burrowed deep in the womans mind like the foot prints of a sand shore- washed away in the growing tide. But this was only for a brief moment, for as soon as Jaidin had extended his hand, and Saiyah's soon to reach, she found her eyes once again, snapping shut to hide those orange, fire-trapping eyes whilst the solid ground below her (as well as the walls to the sides) melted away, leaving her to fall? But where too? This was very much indeed like when she first came to this 'place'. Falling- blackness..only to rest helplessly lost and disoriented on the ground. This all was beginning to seem like one hell of a bad pixie dust trip if ever the woman had been through one.
Everything felt thick. It was like treading through a marsh where all the water had mired into blood, raising the humidity to a difficult percentage. The particles of the air tasted of rust. "A vampire's dream," Darrien thought, trying to distract himself with at least a little humor. The fact of the matter was he did not mind it one bit. He nearly doubled over when his torso did not seem to catch the signal to stop along with his legs. "A vampire," he thought aloud with great nostalgia, "Of course." And then he would continue on, a bit more pensive, but not any less distraught. The anesthetic aftermath of his couple of hours crying kept his knotted emotions to his interior, within that tortured heart still only several hundred heartbeats reborn. He loathed everything about being alone, thanks to the properties of this elusive dungeon. Sparking the notion that he was alone, but alone together with Eyren was enough to keep his ungainly legs running. ~~~~~~ The path ahead of him no longer consisted of cryptic dead ends and worrisome turns, but comprised of chutes, holes, and impossible staircases in every direction. No longer having to echolocate with his tongue, as the labyrinth made quite sure to render it useless, Darrien whistled a tune from his lips in the style of a wooden flute. As he dropped into the strangest tubular slide yet, he was sure the others would hear him and follow, Jaidin, Vael, Tenebrae, Eyren, and even that dear nomad. Absolutely sure. About ten-seconds into the darkness, the indigenous melody turned into what sounded like a bird dying a slow, wretched and painful death.
Darrien had gone his route. But there were two left to chose from. Which way, Vael wondered, his eyes drifting from one to the other. Which way would lead him to this ship's heart, the place that could make Tenebrae, a woman who normally showed little fear, if any at all, waver. And then his path was chosen, his boots singing off the floor underfoot. While Darrien's path became flooded with blood, his remained dry, twisting this way and that, even sloping up and down, branching off only to reconnect with itself somewhere else. He wished he had Tenebrae with him. He wished he had his beloved Creature with him. The near silence would have been more barable, then. Coincidence. Those that might be coming up on the split paths might think it just that at the sound that accompanied Darrien's cry, a bestial roar echoing down the walls, emitted by the drow. "Just show me the damned way, already!" He could have sworn he heard a chuckle, dark and sadistic, deep and grating. Another bellowing roar, and down his myriad of pathways he bolted.
Plagued, the air screamed, and Christian could hear it from afar; what had cursed his beloved so? The Aeromancer hadn't a clue, but planned on finding out. Step after step, the terrain grew rougher, and with each passing stride, with each gentle step, the screams intensified. His mind became a haze, sanity's nectar flowing from him in the form of drivel, dripping mindlessly from his lower lip, yet something was odd. No, he couldn't hear the wind's call any longer, he couldn't place where -- or who -- he was. Memories of Kasyr, Estbel, and his homeland; all became dust, swept away for the moment, and all of his worries, were gone. Christian had one desire from this point: to learn the secrets of that wrecked mass, to uncover the forgotten. Water encompassed his body before Christian began his climb up the haunted hull, and somewhere in the process, a metamorphosis of body and mind had completed. Locks no longer fell in short strands of gold, but rather drifted down his body like shadow, cloaking pale pigment to the shoulders; eyes, once holding the shine of jade became black as coal, lifelessly looking forward. Most of all, Kindness became Cruelty. No longer did Riss's back display those dove-wing tattoos proudly. Instead, the man became an Avian of sort, Raven's wings fluttering ever so slightly in an ominous wind. Indeed, a storm had stirred, but not in the sea. Its eye was held, encased in wood.
Dulcinea gasped aloud as the male next to her simply disappeared as suddenly as if he had never really been there at all. What strange magic was this, that worked its wiles upon her and the ship she had boarded. The whispers that had plagued the druidess since her arrival grew steadily in intensity, never for one moment allowing her peace. To either side, the corridor stretched on, white marble walls seeming to mock her with their very serenity, and for one very brief moment, she wondered if she wasn’t back in that black Pool of chaos residing in the clan head quarters. There were only two options now. To the left or to the right. Or of course there was the door right in front of her. She blinked, a frown settling upon her worried visage, a small niggling thought appearing in the back of her mind. Perhaps she was going crazy after all. Wavering on the brink of a decision, she took a step forward, only to frown as her shoe made a slight squishing noise as it hit the ground. Where was the soft sound of leather hitting wood? Glancing down, she saw the bright crimson puddling around her feet just as she the smell hit her. That slaughterhouse smell, the one of carnage and raw meat that had been left out in the warm air. Gagging slightly, she made a choice, stepping forward and opening the door with a small movement of her wrist. Surely, whatever was behind there was better than being out here.
Jaidin strained to see in the darkness; nothing he did-- no eye-scrunching, or pulling his eyes taut from the outer corners-- produced any semblance of -anything-. He had two eyes, each utterly useless at this point. Tentative steps felt the smooth ground of the place. And hands eventually found the wall to his right, where hands that belonged to a man that didn't make an honest day's work slid along the white corridor, guiding him toward... what? At one point the man stopped suddenly. While he rubbed at the smooth skin of his face, he pondered his next move. How had he gotten here? The man remembered some details of his life-- growing up, owning a potions shop, having a wife and two children. But the more important details-- the how and why of 'now'-- were completely missing. The reputable man then chuckled aloud to himself, completely astonished at his own idiocy: magic! Of course. The human held out his left arm so that he could quickly strike it like a match with his other hand. As his right appendage slid off the limb, the left thumb lit up in a blaze that shed a good amount of life into the corridor so that he was able to see. And there-- at the end laid a woman. Finally, other life! Jaidin made his way toward the woman, and a smooth voice called out to her, "Madam!" He really never thought that he would be so happy to see a stranger.
Fire-glowing orange hues snapped about; first left- then right... even a quick glance up and down. The naga (if one could really consider her such a creature anymore thanks to the mysteriously bare legs in place of where her beautiful tail once was) was quick in getting up, or as far as her legs would curl under her body. Jaidin was quickly shot a delirious glance, the woman still not fond of anything, or anyone in this place that had obviously not been a dream- seeing as how this was the second time waking up here. Her trident still held cradled in her arms like a child reluctant to let go of its toy, the hunter had it hoisted up and held the tip pointed at the mans throat. It was humid and even muggy one could say. Nothing like the bone chilling cold that had been here the last time; was it that this 'place' had altered each time she edged her way into consciousness? Perhaps- because unlike the last time, she could see. Jaidin was given a blank stare, his intention unknown to the woman for the time being- and for that, Saiyah kept her weapon held readily just in case.
Inhale, exhale, inhale exhale, Eyren willed her self to do just that as she drew herself inward in to some semblance of calm. A calm that would last long enough to reverse the flames that she might once more attempt to see what could be done for the still form of Creature. Her eyes closed now she concentrated with everything she had in her till at last, she no longer felt the itch of flames tickling her fingers. though the sight that met her eyes upon reopening them would have her catching her breath once more. Hot, it was hot, muggy and reminiscent of the balmy jungly she'd ventured in to not so long ago with Tenebrae and Saiyah and the others. The moisture came down upon her in a chocking stench of spilt blood, and she was certain that were she to flick out her tongue, she'd taste that salty metallic taste upon the air. Then with a snap of head she cast her gaze about in search of Creature, who was no where to be seen in amidst the long expanse of blood red that stretched out be fore her. Standing quickly to her feet she felt the added weight of mod-or something resembling mud clinging to her clothing. the heat, the red, and the silence, her only companions now; and a pang of regret sang sharply in her gut as she recalled, that she'd never learned the strangers name, of whom the red brought to the forefront of her mind. She had failed to fix Creature, she'd only managed to hurt her and now .. she was gone but where? And what of the others?
Darrien remembered the wonder of a whimsical weekend; his eyelids fluttered open to agree. It would not be any other way. With a faithful wife whose only fault -as far as he was concerned- to be caring too much, two brilliant twins, and a magnificent edifice about him, this dream of a reality would not end if he could have anything to do with it. They were playing in the dressing room, donning the clothing of Darrien's wardrobe, from ornate to outlandish. As Darrien helped his daughter into a giant kiwi, Balavan slipped out of his father's sight and waddled to the laundry chute head first. The father in drag only caught the lower half of his son in his periphery before he jumped into action and down into the laundry chute. Sade, the kiwi giggled remorselessly. ~~~~~~~ Darrien awoke spasmodically with a shout, "Balavan!" reaching for the image of two small feet fading fast. To gather himself, he took deep breaths from tautly O'd lips in parallel time to Eyren's controlled breathing. Looking about, he could not discern where he had fallen from, if that was what happened at all. The realization of this solitary journey became the reality of the reality as the scene sunk in. A few tears threatened the reddening corners of his eyes, irritated from the salt of his cries. Oddly enough, the surrounding area was cavernous, complete with stalactites and stalagmites; the air, however, was no longer stale and smelled fresh. A darling breeze carried it in. "This is good news. I'm close. I can feel it. I'm so terribly knackered; just a few more minutes," Darrien muttered hazily, falling asleep again even on the hardness of the cavern floor. During the last of his cognizant moments, he swore he could hear the creak of floorboards and the mighty yell of a flustered warrior and wished mightily someone might just stumble upon him, particularly Eyren, so softly sensual and separate from what he knew of her before his death. ~~~~~~ Even in his sleep, he yearned audibly by singing, "Truly, with his thorn in your side and you don't know why. Julie dips her toe in the tide and don't know why. No, she don't know why she got all dolled up for a suicide. And when the stage lights dimmed on the fading scrim, it was morning before the cheering died. Is it too late to tell you that I don't mind?" At this, the sentient network espoused some providence, dipping Darrien's hand into a void while he subconsciously rooted his kith onward despite their location. Above all in the labyrinth, Eyren, Vaelustil, Jaidin, Dulcinea, Riss, Tenebrae and Saiyah, a hand descended from the ceiling with the bard's voice right behind it. A choice based on trust. Companionship.
Vael : It had been dry. He could have sworn it had been. But rather than the 'ting, ting' of his boots against solid ground, all he heard was 'splosh, splosh.' Why would his footfalls sound like they were going through water if he was on a dry floor? That's when he decided to chance a glance downward. The blood had come. It threatened to swallow him, to tear him from the world, to take him from those he cared for. Up he looked, ready to scream once more...but then he saw the hand. He reached, by the gods and all things unholy, how he reached! No! he screamed in his mind, I won't let you take me! He reached, and reached, but he couldn't grab hold of that hand. The ship wouldn't let him. It wasn't so much the howl of an angry predator that escaped his lips this time, rather than that of a wounded wolf as Vaelustil realised the futility of his searching grasp. Down, down into the blood he sank, down into darkness.
Riss , or what had become of him, saw no threat in the hand that sought aid in the darkest of places. Reality hadn't been real and whether Christian had known the fact or not, he felt as if he hadn't a thing to lose. He'd grip the hand, but something strange would happen. Chaos had taken a new form, no longer rejecting effects, but perpetuating them into a further state; he had changed form again, yet this time, he became a Wisp of sort. Through the ship itself, guided by the departed hand of Darrien, he'd find a way towards the owner, and ultimately, be placed beside him. The wings would return, body reshaping and Chaos calmed.
Dulcinea would never be the betting type. Sure, it was probably fun when you got a big windfall and ended up with a full gold pouch, but realistically, you were more apt to find yourself face down in an alley way, pockets clean of all but their lint. Besides, she was just bad at it. She always thought that nothing could be as bad as what was currently happening, but the universe was a strange and fickle creature. And things could always bet worse. The door she had gone through fell completely open, bright light filling her vision until everything disappeared. Her hand flew up to shield her face, eyes closing against the painful, brilliant intensity of the glow. Oh no, she did not like this place, she did not like it one bit. As the light lessened, she was able to slowly open her eyes, one squinch at a time. Blinking, trying to clear the dots from her vision, she gradually became aware that she was not alone. The room was done grey tones, muted and flat, nothing that would catch the eye, or divert the viewer from the main feature of the room. That Other. Idly, Dulci would note that the door behind her had vanish, as easily as it had appeared but other than that, her attention was completely focused on this other being. There was something important here, something that she needed to understand. This was why she had been compelled here all along, why her package had been diverted because the Hanging Corpse Tavern had been razed. The voices, whispers, noise in her head, her constant companion through the Labyrinth suddenly seemed to coalesce into one single tone, one voice rising above to cacophony to fill her head. The figure’s back was to her, all she could see was dark hair, a lithe, curvaceous form incased in dark leather. Obviously female. There was something so familiar about her, yet, she did not know this person. Dulcinea would press forward, her hand reaching out to touch the shoulder of the other woman. Finally, someone else. Maybe she knew the way out! “Please, I need…” Her hand touched leather and before the healer could finish the statement, the Other turned, facing her. The voice in her mind became a screech and whimpering, she fell to her knees, staring up at…herself? An older, eerily scary version to be sure, but still hard to mistake for anyone else. There was a scar bisecting the woman’s lip, the smile that touched her face turning gruesome from that anomaly. Her mouth opened and what came out, wasn’t quite a familiar sound. “We’ve been expecting you.” A hand all encased in leather came towards her, and Dulci knew for certain, that she could not allow the image, the vision or whatever it was to make contact. Her empathic awareness would only be strengthened by such a touch and she did not want to know what was in the Other’s soul. The voice in her head grew stronger, louder, the only thing that was real to her, freezing her in place. She knew she was doomed. And then…the strangest thing happened. Another voice…a sound, not in her head, but from outside, came to her. And this wasn’t scary or repulsive, but beautiful and comforting. And when that hand came towards her, she didn’t think, simply acted. She was safe. The Other couldn’t get her. For now.
Jaidin halted immediately; and though he'd been walking, the intensity of that action was much more akin to skidding to a halt from running. "Madam!" He held both hands up in a defensive position-- one that atones 'calm', and for a moment, with the surprise of that trident poised at his throat, the flame of his thumb flickered. But he caught his breath with the usual smoothness that his voice implied, and it was fully lit once more, casting eerie shadows on the white, smooth walls that surrounded them... Strangely enough, nothing looked familiar from the way he had come from. "I mean you no harm, madam; I thought merely you could tell me where it is that I am." Eyes so brilliant and strange of a shade looked down at her form, a questioning countenance at her position. "Are you all right?" With caution, as one might extend a hand to a feral beast of questionable wildness, the mage lowered his to the woman with orange eyes, and lofted a brow as he inquired, "May I help you up?" As he waited her answer, flame-lit hand held away from his form, he wished she would hurry-- sweat was forming on his brow and the back of his neck, not to mention any other areas. He wasn't the underfed Traye... He was the twenty-pound-plus version, and the heat in here was bad enough; not to mention the muggy qualities of the air that was nearly stifling. Had the temperature changed this quickly, this much? Surely it was not from walking that short distance... From the heavens, materialized in the middle of no where; afore them, above them, all around them: a voice so beautiful it cast away any fears and immediately he made to find the source. What was left was a single hand. Even such was crafted of perfection, an invitation of welcome, peace, love; Saiyah was forgotten for the moment as he reached toward it in awe and wonderment. Was this the key to survival, life, existence? Did Sven speak? Then all shifted. All went wrong. Nothing was the same; the walls bled, literally. The obsidian floor they stood on went plummeting downward, and that hand went ever upward. Whatever it was, Mr. Koirihn could not reach it. Oh, but did he ever try! The human jumped up and down, bending at the knees for more height; but alas, it was all to no avail. With a crumpled disposition and fear clogging his throat, the pair fell upon the platform of black to what dismal pits one could only imagine.
Saiyah 's trident, in time, had lowered its self away from the deadly threatening poise it had just been at, and was left to rest heavily on the ground just before Traye's feet. Those orange glowing eyes, how they seemed to put off their own flicker of a flame in the dark, almost matching the small flicker on the tip of the mage's finger. She sat there, still sitting on her curled up legs- which now began to ache- and stared up at the man with that near death-like silence in her stare; nothing like the loud, spoken emotions of her jade-green hues that she so dearly missed right now, much like the rest of her lower half. Well, he seemed passive enough to not be much of a threat, almost as much as the other woman she had met the first time her mind was being so brutally tormented by this morbidly chaotic labyrinth. "I..was wondering if you..knew.." Like a faint breeze, brushing past ones ears on a calm, spring day- the naga's voice was a whisper towards the humans figure. What ever it was about this place, this thing..it had not only stripped her of her tail, but in turn granted her the one thing she had wished and desired her whole life. A voice. But this voice of hers would go unheard for that of another, so beautiful and melodic that it washed away all fear burrowed deep in the womans mind like the foot prints of a sand shore- washed away in the growing tide. But this was only for a brief moment, for as soon as Jaidin had extended his hand, and Saiyah's soon to reach, she found her eyes once again, snapping shut to hide those orange, fire-trapping eyes whilst the solid ground below her (as well as the walls to the sides) melted away, leaving her to fall? But where too? This was very much indeed like when she first came to this 'place'. Falling- blackness..only to rest helplessly lost and disoriented on the ground. This all was beginning to seem like one hell of a bad pixie dust trip if ever the woman had been through one.