middaeg | The world outside had its own rules [open]

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The world outside had its own rules [open]

Who: Asra Alnazar and who ever feels like joining him
When: Throughout July
Where: Various locations
What: Wandering Magician gonna wander in the Wilde and do quests (Cartography and Lucky Ingredients)
Warnings: None currently

A journey begins with a single step
It's almost midnight when Asra set out from the Western Residential District, where he'd made a bed for the night to avoid the snow and cold that blanketed much of the rest of the city. The heat was never a bother for him and Faust needed it, so he spent quite a bit of time there lately.

Right now though, he had the white and lavender python tucked securely under his scarf, a hat with a long, elegant feather topping the outfit off. He'd packed what little he expected he needed for his journey in a brown satchel that swung by his side as he walked through the near-empty streets, the sound of his footsteps sometimes the loudest noise around. He purposefully chose the emptier streets, habitually wanting to avoid attention as he left the city, but sometimes it seemed that fate had other plans. Another set of footsteps drew his attention and his gaze shifted until he noticed the other figure in the street.

"A good night for a journey," he said quietly by way of greeting. "Are you leaving too?"

---

Riddle me this
It was barely morning, the light only just beginning to filter through the trees and dapple the ground in golds and greens. It seemed to almost gild the few feathers in Asra's hand as he stood still as a statue in front of a huge creature that seems part bird and part lynx, his face tipped up to meet its eyes fearlessly.

The moment stretched out, then he spoke.

"If you break me, i do not stop working. If you touch me, I may be snared. If you lose me, nothing will matter. What am I?"

The adar llwch gwin shifted and fluffed its wings before settling again. "Your heart."

Asra nodded and waited as the next riddle came. This was starting to worry him a little, he wasn't quite certain what would happen if he couldn't answer.

"Marking mortal privation, when firmly in place. An enduring summation, inscribed in my face. What am I?" the creature asked, and Asra blinked paling a little. He glanced back at his companion and lowered his voice.

"Are you any good at riddles?"

---
Here in the forest, dark and deep...
He was deeper in the forest now, curiosity pushing him on further, and although Asra was aware of the danger, he was certain that he could manage it. Any protests raised by travelling companions were met with remarks that he'd encountered worse than a dark forest before, but that they were welcome to turn back if they liked.

He was perhaps pushing himself further than strictly necessary, considering he'd come out here to gather herbs and materials, but Asra was stubborn and continued pushing on until he became aware that there was a strange, sickly sweet scent to the air. The plants around them seemed larger, a deeper green than before, and Asra opened his mouth to suggest that maybe it would be time to turn back after all, when he found himself staring at pair of shining, white eyes that seemed to stare at him from a pitch black form.

"What... is that..."

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Symon let his smile take on an almost rueful, embarrassed sort of twist. That would be the proper fitting sort of expression after all. "Ahhh, mentioned how you had saved him, but less so the stories he told." He let out a soft kind of laugh. "Which, by the way, my thanks for looking after him. It means a lot to me."

He looked up at Asra, fingers smoothing experimentally against his own skin, feeling the new flesh and cool scales."What did he tell you exactly?"

"He seems like a good person," Asra agreed, his smile a softer thing at the memory of their discussion. He'd always had a softer side for people who seemed to want to find the good in the world around them, especially when they could see how dark it could also be.

He watched as Symon's fingers explored the healed flesh and was pleased that there didn't seem to be any signs of pain. "Ah, he told me a few things," he answered teasingly, his smile more secretive now. "I might have shared something in return."

His lips parted to continue teasing, but Asra was cut off as a low, warbling sound reached them. It sounded like the howl of a wolf-- almost. There was something off about the sound, almost like it was being mimicked by something that wasn't quite getting it right. Like there was something fundamentally wrong with the throat that made the sound.

It raised the hairs on the back of his neck and Asra stared wide-eyed at the entrance of the cave. "That wasn't very far from here," he murmured, still staring.

Symon cocked a brow at this. Lyr had mentioned in passing his conversation with Asra, but it seemed that he would have to get the rest of the details from him. Something to look forward to. "Are you trying to make me jealous?" He asked, his lips quirked up, that faint amusement coming back to the surface once more.

But then it drained at that animal's wail, familiar but not. The quirk deepened in his lips, that glint appearing in his eyes. He stood, stretching his neck experimentally, his hand resting on the hilt once more. He wished for a moment for Jasper, but banished the thought. It hadn't been practical to take her with Asra.

"Do you want to say back here?" He asked the man, the fire in his eyes stoking higher, "Or do you want to fight with me?"

Asra supposed he'd have thought that Symon might react differently to the threat than he did, but he hadn't expected the look in his eyes, almost like... delight at the prospect. He shivered again, although it had little to do with that howl this time, and glanced back outside. Somehow he didn't imagine that Symon would be willing to try laying low and hoping they avoided notice, and despite his own concerns, he couldn't let the other man throw his life away.

At the very least, having to face Lyr afterwards would be more difficult than he liked.

"I'll come with you," he decided, steeling himself. "We'll have a better chance together, and you'll need someone to drag you back to town afterwards."

"Thank you." He replied, his voice warm and rich, giving a little bow to Asra. "I haven't fought much with mages, but I look forward to the chance to learn." At mention to dragging him home, he laughed, the smile widening to a grin. "Well, if you do, I thank you in advance. I already owe you for the healing. Hopefully I won't be too deeply in your debt."

He drew his sword, the low silken sound of steel on polished wood. "Let's go. Sunlight's wasting."

It was the bow and Symon's apparently earnest delight at his agreement that caught Asra by surprise, a flush sweeping his cheeks before he cleared his throat in an effort to return his focus to the task before them.

"I can't say I've fought much alongside anyone," Asra admitted. "Usually I travel alone. If it comes to a fight, there's no one else to rely on."

He eyed the sword as it caught the light, his lips quirking in a smile despite another, twisted howl rising from the forest, closer now.

"It'll be a change not to be right at the front of things. I'll try to keep clear of your blade."

Symon's gaze flicked to that flush, filing it away for later, to pull apart what had appealed to Asra so. Charmed perhaps. But by the grin, the bow or both? "I used to work with a unit or partner. We drilled of course, which helps, but there was nothing like fighting alongside a partner who you've fought with before." The cant of his mouth deepened, "So we might not have the training, but for the next time, we'll have something almost as good."

He led them from the cave, putting himself ahead of Asra, his bright eyes alert. "And perforce, I'll try and keep clear of your spells. Wouldn't want a faceful of fire." The sun was bright after the cool dimness of the cave, and Symon had to squint initially against its glare.

As they crept back into the forest, Symon began to hum, half singing under his breath.

"The Chelixian's wife was as fair as the sun,
and her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Chelixian's blade was made of black steel,
and its kiss was a terrible thing."

The tune was slow, but Symon's voice was rich, and every syllable seemed to ring, lingering in the hot summer air.

"Did you and Lyr practise together before? Or have you started doing so here?" Asra asked, following after Symon, his gaze flicking around the area just to be safe, although he didn't expect they'd see anything just yet. The sounds, irregular as they were, had still been far enough away that it was unlikely they were in any danger just yet.

Unless something else decided to attack them that was, but he hoped that would not be the case.

He was still keeping an eye out when Symon started singing and Asra sighed, his gaze moving back to the other man and lingering over his features, the catch of light on his scales and the glimmer of excitement still in his eyes. Instinctively he moved closer still, enough that the back of his hand brushed against Symon's as they walked, and his attention entirely on the other man's face as he sung, each note tugging at his heart.

"As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,
and the taste of his blood on his tongue,
His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,
and he smiled and he laughed and he sung"

But Symon stopped his song to answer Asra's question "Ahh, never in Korvosa, no." They could hardly be seen together, let alone openly work together. He felt the warm brush of Asra's skin against his, and noticed the proximity of the other man, not to mention the gaze that raked over him.

He laughed suddenly, low and soft as he realized. "Sorry." He murmured, "The singing a bit distracting?" There was a part of him that wanted to keep on going, to croon the words, on and on, as Asra swayed in his grip.

Another time perhaps. For now at least, practicality had to rule.

Edited 2019-08-04 02:40 (UTC)

It was only when the singing stopped that Asra realised how distracted he'd been and took a step back, stumbling at little at the sudden shift between moving forward and back, and covered his fluster poorly by dragging his hand through his messy pale curls.

"Ah... I imagine you forget that it can do that," he mumbled, half wishing that something would come at them now to give him a distraction. Unfortunately whatever was out there wasn't quite so inclined to humour him.

"Although if your voice was half as compelling before we came here, I can imagine you had a similar effect regardless. And it's an... interesting song."

Symon licked his lips, his teeth aching, the urge to continue singing to see Asra open before him like a blossom to the sun nearly overwhelming. He took a careful breath instead, the fins at his wrist flexing and instead satisfied himself by letting his gaze linger on the flush in the other man's cheeks, the way his fingers barely trembled as he ran them through his hair.

"Getting used to it and all. I've always been in the habit of singing, it seems like I will have to curb it somewhat. " Or not, depending on my mood.

"Oh, yes, I rather like it." He continued on. His lashes dipped lower over his eyes, "Would you like to hear the rest later?"

"That seems a shame." Asra's brow furrowed as he thought now what that must be like, finding something that had been enjoyed before was now.... changed.

"Losing something that you used to enjoy before just because it's dangerous here must be difficult." At the offer though, Asra glanced over at Symon and smiled, gentle and honestly pleased.

"Well," he said with a laugh. "Now I know what to keep in mind, I wouldn't mind that. It's a lovely tune. And perhaps you can learn when to use that ability and when not to with some practice?"

It might be worth exploring, although he admittedly hadn't looked as much into the monsters and their unusual abilities to know how much control any of them might have. But if there was a way to help, then he would try to do so.

Still musing, Asra twitched in surprise as that low, warbling and unnatural sound of that cry rose again, much, much closer this time. Almost immediately another joined it nearby, rising in something like a scream of victory towards the end.

"I think they know we're here..."

Symon had known some of the power of his song, but of course hadn't fully tested it. It was barely at a fraction of its effect when he was in his human form, he knew that, and for a moment, he pondered singing to Asra while in the cool embrace of water. One step at a time.

He wet his lips, about to respond when that cry came again. And suddenly, Symon was all business again, the teasing, flirting edge of his manner gone in an instant, replaced with a cool competence. It was a good mask, almost perfect, the brave, dutiful soldier, except that his eyes didn't change with his demeanor.

"They think we fell into their trap." He murmured, the exulting sounds falling around them. "But perhaps its the other way 'round." He strode towards the sound, sword gripped in his hand, ready to attack at a moment's notice. "Asra, stay a few paces behind. Be ready with whatever spell you think is necessary. Warn me that you're casting, but nothing more. I can take care of myself." His words were short, clipped at the edges as time was slipping through their fingers.

"I hope you're right," Asra murmured, flexing and stretching his fingers, ready to cast whatever magic might be required. He nodded at the direction, keeping distance from Symon and casting his gaze around them. This hardly seemed ideal, but he supposed with the cave not far behind them, if they did need to fall back they might stand a good chance of defending it.

Assuming, of course, that they didn't end up surrounded.

"How many do you think there are?" he asked, voice still low and his gaze flicking towards the sound of something moving through the forest a distance away. An animal? A distraction? He couldn't tell.

"At least two," Symon's cocked his head, straining to hear more, "But it's safe to assume more. We'll just have to keep our eyes open. Handle this threat, keep on moving." He turned to Asra, his head tilting, "How much more herb do you want to collect?"

Two of those creatures or more... Asra didn't like the idea in the slightest but Symon seemed correct that they didn't seem intent on leaving them alone either. Although hopefully if they were anything like some of the beasts he'd come across in his travels before, enough of a fight might convince them that they weren't worth the effort.

Somehow he doubted that was going to be the case.

He glanced at Symon with the question and a wry smile tugged at his lips. "I think we've enough now. No point in pushing our luck further if we do make it through this. And too much more fighting and we'll end up needing more healing herbs than I have and we'll be close to where we started."

He tried a smile, but it was small, worried, and immediately disappeared as his eyes widened. "Symon-!"

It moved through the trees unnaturally fast, almost like it were somehow shifting between the very shadows the trees provided than running, and there was something off about its gait. Like the legs bent in too many places. It was shadow and silence and the sharp, wet shapes of dozens of teeth in a mouth that split the black and went further and further back, gaping wide as it lunged for Symon's head.

Symon's lips twisted back from his lips, in a wild, feral snarl. The fins at his wrists seemed to rattle, the spines at the ends clicking against one another. Symon was quick too, but not nearly as fast as the beast, which launched itself towards the guardsman. Symon turned to move, to meet the beast, but as he planted his foot, it got caught in a rabbit hole, and his leg buckled. He didn't curse, didn't get a chance, as the beast launched itself, and one of its many, hungry mouths clamped over Symon's shoulder. THe weight of the beast slammed him down to his back, razor sharp teeth worrying at his armor, tearing at the hardening leather, starting to reach down to the flesh underneath.

Symon's eyes seemed to glow and he bared his own teeth, which now, looked a lot more like fangs. With the proximity of the creature, his sword was useless. He dropped it, raking his own clawed hand against the monster, while his other hand reached out to draw his belt knife.

Asra cursed for them both as Symon stumbled and he didn't think, just threw himself forward and planted his hand, palm flat and fingernails digging in, over the top of the fresh scratches left by Symon's claws. He hissed a command, a brief burst of light flaring behind his eyes as steam rose from his hand and the creature shrieked. The sound was ear-splittingly loud and high and Asra jerked away as it flailed and bit, it's jaws grabbing again for Symon and anything else it could reach.

As he pulled back, a spike of ice was barely visible where it buried into the twisted flesh, widening the wound and hopefully giving Symon an opening.

The noise seemed to pierce Symon's skull, but it was the last thing on his mind; the beast's teeth had worried their way past his armor and was starting to prick into flesh. But he felt the creature twist, and blood, thick and hot and far too dark spilled down on him, spattering over his chest. His lips twisted back from his fangs, snarling, but there was joy now, a horrible, fearsome delight and he plunged his dagger in the creature's belly, pushing deep into the soft flesh. The thing quivered and the moment seemed to stretch, Symon's breath curling past his teeth, his eyes alight on the beast splayed out over him.

His movements were perhaps a touch too slow as he cut across the thing's abdomen, tearing through flesh, viscera, hot and slippery, spilling into his lap.

The moment seemed to narrow down to just them, himself and Symon and the blade that sank into flesh and spilt blood and wet, red gore down to the earth below. The smell felt thick enough to coat the back of his throat, worse than anything he'd experienced before, immediate and inescapable.

But even with the smell and the sight before him, Asra couldn't miss the way Symon almost seemed to enjoy it, which seemed to make it that much worse.

He wasn't certain what to make of it all, his stomach churning and his attention hyperfocusing on the tiniest of details - the way the flecks of blood on Symon's skin caught the light, the dying light in the creature's eyes - and it didn't occur to him that one of them should be keeping an eye on the situation. That there'd been more than one howl in the forest.

The reminder came as sharp and sudden pain, ripping deep into his back and side and it was only as the world became a dizzying flash of sky and ground that Asra realised he'd been struck hard enough to send him flying. He lifted his head enough to try and shout a warning, but only managed a choked sound as the second beast reached a massive clawed hand down to heart at Symon's shoulder and try to rip him bodily free from under the corpse.

There had been the thick smell of death in Symon's nose, the dying twitch of the creature in his hands, its body spasming against the keen edge of his knife, splitting its flesh an inch or so deeper. The blood was hot against his skin, a slippery caress, and he sucked in a breath, sharp, shuddering.

But then there was a meaty thunk, the unmistakable sound of bodies colliding, and his his attention sharpened back to a hard competence. Don't get sloppy in this soft world. He was trying to shove the dying body of his former foe away when the second beast slammed into him. Razor-sharp claws sliced through his already damaged armor, this time cutting through to flesh. He snarled, keeping his grip on his knife, the blade whipping up to plunge into the creature's leg, trying to get it to pull away, so he could regroup, get his sword.

Instead, the monster responded with a snarl of its own, unyielding, its claws turning in as it pressed harder. The curved claw punched into muscle, curling up, hooking at the underside of Symon's collarbone. A scream of pain was torn from Symon's throat as he felt hard nail grate against bone, blood pouring from his shoulder. The beast started to drag him by that grisly grip, and Symon screamed again, but scrap of luck was left to him; the injured shoulder wasn't on the side that held the knife. Even through the agony the blade flashed again and again, plunging into any part of the beast that Symon could reach.

Pain sent stars dancing across his eyes as Asra rolled over, forcing himself to ignore the sharp pain that shot through his side and back. For a moment he thought he'd screamed from it, but the sound came again and he realised it was Symon, someone he hadn't expected to make a sound like that. Sharp and pained and almost as animalistic as the things attacking them.

His fear hardened then and Asra barely thought as he dug his fingers into his own wound to soak them in blood, his lips moving in an instinctive chant as he sunk blood-soaked fingers into the earth. It parted like butter and a hand of earth and mud rose from behind the creature. Twisted roots like the claws that caught in Symon's flesh speared into the beast's form, the giant hand wrapping around it as it snarled and writhed and tore at its prey.

Asra half rose to his hands and knees, one hand still buried in the earth, his eyes seeming to shine with an inhuman light and his mouth twisting into a silent snarl as the muscles in his arm clenched and the giant hand began to squeeze.

There was a crunching, horrible sound that seemed to echo through the air and he felt a wet, copper trail start from his nose, but still the giant fist tightened its grip. Stone and mud and root an inexorable force that continued to press in tighter and tighter, Asra apparently past caring how far this was going... or how close Symon might be to it all.

Dirt spattered over Symon's face at the earth rose around his enemy, clenching about the beast that had been roaring in his face, its long, gleaming teeth inches from his face.

Asra. The name was like a clarion bell in his mind bright eyes, secrets, what's behind that smile-, his thoughts edged in fire, the chain reaction of firing thoughts twisted together. His head lolled to the side, and so he was party to that look in the man's face. The fury that etched handsome features, that twisted them into something different, something transcendent, something perfect. He felt struck, like an arrow to the breast, watching as agony rippled through him.

Beautiful.

But his pain hazed admiration was yanked away as those giant earthen fingers gripped around the dirt, and perforce Symon as well. His knife was still in his hand, and with the beast understandably distracted, he rammed the blade into the joint where claw met bone, and twisted, shearing through tendon, separating the claw. It gave him the chance to scramble out from under the creature, its claw still embedded in his shoulder. He leaned back, bloody and panting and between one breath and the next, the thing was crushed into a bloody, gory pulp, viscera and bits of bone raining down on him.

It was only as the twitching of the creature's form faded that Asra finally let the spell end, the mangled corpse dropping like the husk of a crushed fruit from the earthen hand. His head was spinning from exertion and he could taste blood that he wasn't certain if the blow the monster had inflicted had caused or his own spellwork had. A large part of him desperately wanted to just lay back down on the ground and try to catch his breath as much as he could through the pain and his spinning head, but he couldn't ignore how close Symon had been to everything. How much worse he might be hurt than Asra himself.

He shoved himself to his feet and stumbled over to where Symon was lying, collapsing more than kneeling by his form. There was blood everywhere, as much the creatures' as Symon's, and his hands hovered over the other man uncertainly.

"I don't know if I can heal this much," he gasped, staring at the claw still buried in Symon's shoulder. "And we can't stay here."

Symon had touched the claw still embedded in his shoulder and was rewarded with cables of pain shuddering through him. Not that he should take it out; he didn't fancy bleeding to death on the forest floor.

Lyr would kill me.

His lips puffed around a breath of amusement; it was hilarious after all.

"I can hang on a bit more. I kept Jasper hobbled outside the forest," He didn't think he could help Asra look for herbs on horseback after all, "We can ride her back, and Lyr can help us." He felt dizzy, but slowly, he managed to get up, to stand, swaying before the mage. "We need to move."

The world outside had its own rules [open]

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CW: gore

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