How are things settling down in Thorne after everything?
[ It's good to hear from Alucard. Thancred's been too preoccupied with what's directly in front of him and swirling around in his own mind to have the forethought to reach out to many Summoned in other territories, so he appreciates Alucard's proactiveness. ]
Among the Summoned, or politically?
Among the Summoned, or politically?
[he's gone out to howl at the moon, been working, and ignoring his weird fight with viktor. being in touch felt like a good idea.]
Both.
Both.
Edited 2024-06-05 23:33 (UTC)
What is your status?
Currently in a semi-unfinished bunker I helped construct.
Currently in a semi-unfinished bunker I helped construct.
Currently fleeing the castle with two other Summoned. We were given advance warning.
[ It's fine. Completely and utterly fine. ]
I saw something about a red cloud? What exactly is happening over there?
[ He could only pay so much attention to the early flurry of messages sent back and forth when he was trying to make sure Yennefer didn't murder Ambrose with her mind. ]
[ It's fine. Completely and utterly fine. ]
I saw something about a red cloud? What exactly is happening over there?
[ He could only pay so much attention to the early flurry of messages sent back and forth when he was trying to make sure Yennefer didn't murder Ambrose with her mind. ]
How many are with you? We have over a thousand in the bunker. It functions, but we're without bedding etc.
Seems some sort of pollen or other biological attack. Doubtlessly done in conjunction with happenings in Thorne to keep the Free Cities occupied.
Seems some sort of pollen or other biological attack. Doubtlessly done in conjunction with happenings in Thorne to keep the Free Cities occupied.
i'm not sure if i should be offended that you left without saying anything
[ At this point, Thancred will take any correspondence that distracts him from the week-long ride that's mainly been choked with tension that could be cut with a knife. ]
It would hardly be a discreet escape if I told everyone, now would it?
It would hardly be a discreet escape if I told everyone, now would it?
Edited 2024-06-20 22:44 (UTC)
true
but is it worth it at the expense of a friend's feelings?
but is it worth it at the expense of a friend's feelings?
[ Oh, River. Of course she would remember little Guò. ]
It is kind of you to think of him and ask.
Yes, he is fine. I ensured that he had a steady diet of his favorite nuts while on the road, and now that we are settled in Nott, he is adjusting to his new surroundings. You will have to come visit him sometime.
It is kind of you to think of him and ask.
Yes, he is fine. I ensured that he had a steady diet of his favorite nuts while on the road, and now that we are settled in Nott, he is adjusting to his new surroundings. You will have to come visit him sometime.
[Of course he’s no stranger to nightmares.
As a sorcerer, it’s difficult not to be harried in the dead of night by visions of the myriad ways in which the world might end. How the universe might shatter. The lives you might have led if you hadn’t tread the path you did. Dreams—back home, anyway—are sometimes just the lives of a variant, distant from your own.
But even before he was entrenched in the world of magic, even when he was a successful surgeon, he wasn’t immune from them. They simply took another shape — and more often than not, they took the shape that Stephen Strange is often experiencing now.
The crispness of winter, the large expanse of a frozen lake. The shine of a giant swath of frozen ice covering its surface, crystalline in the winter sun. He’s always standing in the middle of it, looking down. Seeing there, just beneath the surface of the lake, the face of his sister, pressed up against the ice, clawing at it with splayed fingers. Her face and hands so, so blue. Panic runs through Stephen’s system at the sight—it always does, it feels just like then, the helplessness—but he can’t move. He can only stand there, and stare, the rest of his body utterly frozen, as though he too were encased in ice.
When he wakes up from such nightmares, his heart beating drum-like in his chest, the corner of his eyes stinging wet, he always curses—]
Shit.
[And he can never fall back asleep. Sometimes he’ll read in bed, sometimes he’ll just stare at the ceiling above, or look out the window to see the bleak starkness of the night. But tonight? Tonight, he decides to move into the common area of their home, and—
God, he doesn’t know. Just go for a walk?
Along the way, however, he finds Thancred already awake and in the common room before him, and Stephen clears his throat.]
Rough night?
As a sorcerer, it’s difficult not to be harried in the dead of night by visions of the myriad ways in which the world might end. How the universe might shatter. The lives you might have led if you hadn’t tread the path you did. Dreams—back home, anyway—are sometimes just the lives of a variant, distant from your own.
But even before he was entrenched in the world of magic, even when he was a successful surgeon, he wasn’t immune from them. They simply took another shape — and more often than not, they took the shape that Stephen Strange is often experiencing now.
The crispness of winter, the large expanse of a frozen lake. The shine of a giant swath of frozen ice covering its surface, crystalline in the winter sun. He’s always standing in the middle of it, looking down. Seeing there, just beneath the surface of the lake, the face of his sister, pressed up against the ice, clawing at it with splayed fingers. Her face and hands so, so blue. Panic runs through Stephen’s system at the sight—it always does, it feels just like then, the helplessness—but he can’t move. He can only stand there, and stare, the rest of his body utterly frozen, as though he too were encased in ice.
When he wakes up from such nightmares, his heart beating drum-like in his chest, the corner of his eyes stinging wet, he always curses—]
Shit.
[And he can never fall back asleep. Sometimes he’ll read in bed, sometimes he’ll just stare at the ceiling above, or look out the window to see the bleak starkness of the night. But tonight? Tonight, he decides to move into the common area of their home, and—
God, he doesn’t know. Just go for a walk?
Along the way, however, he finds Thancred already awake and in the common room before him, and Stephen clears his throat.]
Rough night?
[ It would have been one thing if they had that one, blood-soaked dream of a Herald announcing himself, full of cryptic words and imagery, dripping red and inspiring some sort of undirected, white-hot rage. It had been enough to shake Thancred (and from what he's gathered, most of the other Summoned), but since then he's been able to put it from his mind.
Or so he thought, but it seems that all good deeds must be punished. He's been to the lumber mill and the farmlands to help where he can, and sometimes that involved protecting the people under the Heralds' sway as best he could, with some successes.
But as if he took some of their strain onto him, that's when the dreams started.
Thancred is also no stranger to nightmares, but these seem to hit straight to the core. In one, he was following Minfilia's light through the Aitiascope when he suddenly lost track of it and it sputtered out, wisps of her voice only barely audible as he wandered in the dark.
In another, Ryne stared up at him with genuine horror, demanding to know what he'd become and how he could leave her.
A third, where Fandaniel (or Amon, or even Meteion) tried to pull him into the abyss, reminding him that it would be so much easier this way.
He's done his best to shake off the dreams, but tonight it hasn't worked, forcing him from his bed and into the small living area of their Nott home. He's standing near the window with a cup of tea (and at least he went for that rather than some wine or other alcohol) when he hears a stirring in the hallway behind him.
Ah. So Stephen hasn't been spared either. Thancred half-turns toward him and lets out a sigh. ]
Something like that. [ He takes a careful sip of his still hot tea. ] I could ask you the same question.
Or so he thought, but it seems that all good deeds must be punished. He's been to the lumber mill and the farmlands to help where he can, and sometimes that involved protecting the people under the Heralds' sway as best he could, with some successes.
But as if he took some of their strain onto him, that's when the dreams started.
Thancred is also no stranger to nightmares, but these seem to hit straight to the core. In one, he was following Minfilia's light through the Aitiascope when he suddenly lost track of it and it sputtered out, wisps of her voice only barely audible as he wandered in the dark.
In another, Ryne stared up at him with genuine horror, demanding to know what he'd become and how he could leave her.
A third, where Fandaniel (or Amon, or even Meteion) tried to pull him into the abyss, reminding him that it would be so much easier this way.
He's done his best to shake off the dreams, but tonight it hasn't worked, forcing him from his bed and into the small living area of their Nott home. He's standing near the window with a cup of tea (and at least he went for that rather than some wine or other alcohol) when he hears a stirring in the hallway behind him.
Ah. So Stephen hasn't been spared either. Thancred half-turns toward him and lets out a sigh. ]
Something like that. [ He takes a careful sip of his still hot tea. ] I could ask you the same question.
[Losing those important to them seems to be a theme. What does that say about them as people? Probably nothing they'd want to think about overlong.
Thancred's sigh says it all. Stephen wanders forward, crossing his arms as he stations himself close to where Thancred sits. Or maybe that it's more, he's hugging his own body, clearly wrung free of all energy from the long nights of perpetual nightmares.]
Oh, you know. [Is there a kettle around? He'll slowly wander off to maybe pour himself a cup of tea, too, if there's any extra. His usual sarcasm rises to the surface in the meanwhile.] Just fending off debilitating dreams of losing loved ones. Nothing special.
Thancred's sigh says it all. Stephen wanders forward, crossing his arms as he stations himself close to where Thancred sits. Or maybe that it's more, he's hugging his own body, clearly wrung free of all energy from the long nights of perpetual nightmares.]
Oh, you know. [Is there a kettle around? He'll slowly wander off to maybe pour himself a cup of tea, too, if there's any extra. His usual sarcasm rises to the surface in the meanwhile.] Just fending off debilitating dreams of losing loved ones. Nothing special.
[ It's admittedly been a teensy bit longer than she would have preferred it to be. Art projects don't typically take this long for her to complete, but with everything that Abraxas has chose to throw at them, it's not wonder it takes her as long as it does to create as many cards as there are in in two functioning Triple Triad decks.
But the day arrives when they're complete and now that they are, the only right thing is to deliver them to the intended person. Or one of them at least. ]
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪! 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦?
But the day arrives when they're complete and now that they are, the only right thing is to deliver them to the intended person. Or one of them at least. ]
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪! 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦?
[ It's been some time since his spontaneous encounter with Hilda in his Horizon, and while Thancred had quite enjoyed the back and forth with her and Mogwry, there hasn't been much opportunity to reach out again. Not with a coup, and finding his feet in a new living situation, and the Heralds making trouble, and everything else.
That being said, it's a pleasant surprise to receive this message from her. ]
Of course I do, Hilda. How could I forget a lovely lady such as yourself?
That being said, it's a pleasant surprise to receive this message from her. ]
Of course I do, Hilda. How could I forget a lovely lady such as yourself?
𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘐'𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺.
[ ...Sorry, Thancred. She had to. ]
[ ...Sorry, Thancred. She had to. ]
[ at some point over the wintertide & solstice season, shortly before their invitation and arrival to the nether, thancred will find a package delivered to his current home in nott, containing a handmade knitted gift for the occasions. she thinks she's funny for her choice. he's lucky she couldn't figure out how to give it a mouth full of teeth. ]
wrapped neatly and tied with a bow, please find inside a gray scarf with a green cactus woven in. there's only a short note that simply reads:
Happy Holidays
From Annabeth
A few hours after the portals close at the end of the event
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cryptsleeper
2024-12-31 07:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Are you in Thorne right now????????
[ That's a lot of question marks, Alucard. Are you Okay. ]
Strangely enough, no. I seem to have found myself in warmer climes.
Strangely enough, no. I seem to have found myself in warmer climes.
[It is with the word of "friend" that Dion wakes, quite suddenly, feeling as if a great weight is pressing down on him at the same moment that he feels as if some darkness around his heart has eased its hold. Was it only a dream? But it cannot be. At that last moment, he felt something... a pull. The same he feels in the Horizon.
Pray forgive my sudden message, but I must ask... are you well, Thancred? Unharmed? I had -- a startling dream, but I fear it was not a dream at all.
Pray forgive my sudden message, but I must ask... are you well, Thancred? Unharmed? I had -- a startling dream, but I fear it was not a dream at all.
[ It is in part because the dream ended on a decent note, but while Thancred wakes up with a start, he is not as drenched in sweat as he might have expected. Or as panicked. It still takes a few minutes for him to settle after the shock of waking from a dream he hadn't realized was a dream, but...
Then the letters appear on the opposite wall of his room. He recognizes the penmanship, and Dion's lettering happens to be just as neat and tidy as always, even in such a strange aftermath. ]
I am unharmed. Though I believe that dream was a shared one, as I just awoke myself.
Then the letters appear on the opposite wall of his room. He recognizes the penmanship, and Dion's lettering happens to be just as neat and tidy as always, even in such a strange aftermath. ]
I am unharmed. Though I believe that dream was a shared one, as I just awoke myself.
[ Himeka normally takes time to write as neatly as possible (in stark contrast to her artistic abilities), but her current handwriting appears rushed. ]
Thancred! Where are you?
Thancred! Where are you?
[ Thancred can tell the difference, along with the fact that she gives little explanation or preamble before asking him the question.
He has an idea of why, given his own situation. ]
Not where I should be, that's for certain.
The portal from the Nether saw fit to drop me in Cadens of all places.
Where are you?
He has an idea of why, given his own situation. ]
Not where I should be, that's for certain.
The portal from the Nether saw fit to drop me in Cadens of all places.
Where are you?
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