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Private Well, shit.

Discussion in 'Otherworld' started by Ellana Lavellan, Nov 3, 2019.

  1. Ellana Lavellan

    Ellana Lavellan Dragon Age

    Posts:
    4
    Gender:
    Female
    Race:
    Dalish Elf
    Age:
    Thirty
    Alignment:
    Chaotic Neutral

    [​IMG]
    @Dorian Pavus - October 12, Y109
    The sensation of something wrapped around her arm tugs at her, dragging her back to a conscious state causing her to shoot upright in wide-eyed panic. Ellana's breath hitched as her eyes trailed down a black swirling mass of spiritual energy encircling her left arm, pulsing with intention. It lasts but a moment, dark tendrils rising lazily caught by an air current Ellana can’t seem to find the source of, only to recede into the ground just as nonchalant.

    The small elf stared in bewilderment down at her left hand. Where she had expected to see the Anchor in a state of frenzy, devouring the remains of her arm in an uncontrolled effort to kill her, now there was simply a faint glow. Veins that had been full to the brim with blood poisoned by the magic of the orb were now etched into her skin as faint scars up to her elbow. A hand comes up to rub her eyes, to chase the unshed tears away as her other senses slowly catch up with her. Her nose crinkles in disgust as a variety of scents waft past her, replacing what she could remember as the sharp and clean fragrance of winter that had clung to her companion moments ago, now the cloying scent of rotting flesh laced with earthy undertones and mildew.

    Swiveling her head to survey the area, eyebrows knitted into a frown as Ellana scowled at the sight presented to her. The surrounding darkness with its green swirling mists threatens to impede her breathing, pressing in around her. To her right stands a once-massive statue, dilapidated and with the classic bits of what it once was orbiting around it without rhyme or reason. A hand reaches out, setting itself against the base of the grey stone, as much to steady her body as to provide herself a standing position. One small step propels her forward, the fingers of her left hand reaching out to tap the floating stone sent to drift away unbidden.

    “The.. Fade?” the words are shuttered, slow and broken.

    Hands drop to her side as the understanding slams into her knocks the wind from her lips and elicits a puff of startled air. Of all the things that had been uttered thus far, she hadn’t taken in a word, hadn’t truly processed through it all. But this lone phrase among dozens had thrown itself to the forefront of her mind and made itself present. Thoughts suddenly dart to and fro, scrambling her mind into a frenzy.

    Deep breath in. Count the seconds. Release the breath. Repeat one, two, three times.

    Ellana could not steady herself. Could not stop the panic that bloomed in her belly and snaked its way through her body. Her breathing is all wrong, she begins to gasp like there's not enough oxygen in the air. Her heart hammers hard against her rib cage threatening to break through her ribs. Guttural noises find their way out of her throat, a trick to be sure as it feels like a hand is clasped firmly around it. Yet again the memories she had of this event refused to surface, only the impression of the vines in their place.

    The fear that she would finally die here slowly scraped against her mind, leaving her raw, blatantly exposed in a way she couldn't conceal any longer. The steady balance of her body failed her. Knees buckled and her whole body swayed violently as Ellana’s free hand came up quickly, slamming onto the remains of a crumbled statue to her right, fingers splayed. Bloodshot eyes stare vacantly at her fingertips, the change in color from pink to white from the sheer pressure at which she had her hand against the rock merely evoking a slow blink.

    Her eyes itch and there’s a ringing in her ears that may be from the strange noises the Fade produces. It could also be the choking noises slipping past her lips to join the din of the spirits, drawn by her suffering.

    Hadn’t the magic of this place taken enough from her?!

    And it’s like the floodgates opened, then.

    Two hands crash against her lips stifling a shriek. The breath she sucks in pulls at her fingers and warms her cheeks. Her vision blurs; tears. She blinks them back, sends them tumbling down her cheeks where they won’t impede her gaze. Through the haze of salty tears, green eyes watch as the view she had meticulously been studying slides up and away from her, the result of her knees finally giving way and dropping her back into the dirt she had started on.

    Hands migrate to the sides of her head, delicate fingers wrapping themselves as best they can around her pointed ears. Her body tries to rock back in forth in what she assumes could be a soothing thing, but she doesn’t want to move. Doesn’t want to act and to stop herself from doing so, Ellana’s forehead rests against the rough stone of the destroyed figure, her sobbing interspersed with the occasional hiccup and one single repeated word.

    “No.”
     
    #1 Ellana Lavellan, Nov 3, 2019
    Last edited: Nov 11, 2019 at 1:00 AM
    Dorian Pavus likes this.
  2. Dorian Pavus

    Dorian Pavus Dragon Age

    Posts:
    204
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Enchantment Coterie Head
    Location:
    Cascade Bay
    Race:
    Human
    Age:
    30 (+1)
    Alignment:
    Neutral Good
    Directory:
    link

    Dorian rarely delved back into the Otherworld when ever he had the option to do so. The recollection of what had transpired, almost a year ago, had left a sour taste in his mouth whenever he thought about it. That time when he had found himself trapped there, in a warped version of his family home back in Qarinus and his old home in Misty Hollow. It had taken both him and Wanda Maximoff, a very bright witch and her... white goat friend, to discover the real source of Dorian's nighttime drama - a pride demon, defeat it, and escape.

    Needless to say, Dorian was not eager to jump back into the Otherworld so quickly. The nice thing about Pandora was that he often just had dreams that... were, well, just dreams. Snippets of his subconscious and recollections cut and strung together into strange scenes with a barely connective theme. On the odd occasion, either when he was sleeping too deeply or caught unawares, he had found himself traversing the Otherworld despite himself. Since that incidence a year ago, luckily, he had had no further troubles - although each time was as interesting as the last.

    Tonight was one of those odd times when Dorian once again found himself in the Otherworld. For a heart stopping second, he thought maybe the hopeful had occurred - Pandora had gotten sick of him and coughed him back into Thedas in his sleep. He was in the Fade, as he remembered it at its core - a crumbled, twisted version of the mortal world.

    His steps took him to the center of a raised block of stone, chunks of it at the edges floated upwards in the hazy twilight. The void, he knew, lay below him, but he had no concerns about falling off of it. If anything, he looked quite pleased at finding himself here.

    That was until he started to noticed that something was off. Like an appraiser with an eye for expert craftsmanship, Dorian began to notice small details that showed him that this was just a replica. Like looking at a replica of already mirrorred universe, Dorian's initial happiness dissolved slowly into a somber feeling, accompanied by a deep sigh. He was smacked back to reality, and it smarted. This wasn't the Fade. He was still in the Otherworld.

    A cruel twist of the proverbial knife.

    A cry cut through his musing. It sounded like a wounded animal, but then it morphed into human-like sobs, distant and muffled. "How curious." he muttered to himself, expecting no one but himself to hear it.

    He followed a winding path that seemed to move upwards. His view was cut off by tall, twisting bushes, but as soon as he rounded a corner, a wider space opened up. His eyes traveled up a broken statue, where it rose, chunks frozen in mid-air, against the pull of gravity. And then his gaze dropped down to where a prone figure lay, crouched at the base, shoulders shaking - the source of the sobbing.

    Dorian felt his adrenaline spike suddenly. It was like he was staring at a ghost - the spirit of someone whom he had not seen in over a year. Whom he never thought he'd see again. One hand gripped his staff tightly, readjusting, and his other strayed up to the golden pendant that hung around his neck. It was a motion that Dorian had found himself doing as a form of comfort - which was ridiculous, and he hated himself for doing it whenever he caught himself.

    When he finally found his voice with a swallow and small lick of his lips. "Inquisitor?" he called out with emphasis, moving forwards as he did so. His footsteps were slow and unsteady at first, and then they moved more quickly with purpose. He crouched down next to the other, his robes gathered around him. He peered intently at her side, trying to discern if this was a trick or not. Reaching forwards, he touched her on her shoulder, almost hesitantly in case he startled her.
     
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  3. Ellana Lavellan

    Ellana Lavellan Dragon Age

    Posts:
    4
    Gender:
    Female
    Race:
    Dalish Elf
    Age:
    Thirty
    Alignment:
    Chaotic Neutral

    [​IMG]
    Once upon a time, Ellana might have been self-conscious of her feelings. Every part of her had been so carefully guarded, only showing what was necessary to get a job done or play the role thrust upon her. It had been constantly drilled into her that her position as leader of a potentially world-shaking religious force demanded a look of complete confidence and control.

    Now she just gave way to the enormity of her grief. The fire of anger and shame burned just under her skin, a deep aching emptiness that filled her heart as memories of the last three years spilled past the seams she could no longer keep bound together. The silent hum of the Fade echoing in her ears was like a constant white noise that never shut up. Her head swam and her extremities creaked and cracked under the pressure of her own body. Her tears had long run out, leaving behind raw damp skin on her cheeks. Where the tears had been the sound of her sorrow had replaced them. The world was nothing short of a blur, her senses long dulled by the oppression wracking her body.

    A light tap turns into a grip on her shoulder that pulls her up short. It takes a moment longer for the realization to set in. Ellana froze in place as she lifted her head slightly to find herself staring at someone painfully familiar. Rather than back away slowly or avert her gaze, Ellana scrambled back quickly wrenching free her shoulder and putting distance between herself and... what appeared to be Dorian Pavus. Appeared. Instantly the fair-haired elf was on the defensive. A look of disbelief riddled her features, confusion, and recognition, but still jumbled under a mask of distrust.

    Ellana stared with wide, roving eyes, taking in the striking likeness of the man before her, waiting for some kind of lunge forward or unearthly snarl to tell her that she needed to get on her feet and start fighting, but it never came. An arm wrapped around her side to find purchase on the staff at her back, the storm coming to her aid, charging the air and bringing with it the heavy smell of ozone. The fingers of her free hand twitch with a swirl of magic, a violet hue crackling and sparking around her digits. For a moment she felt like lashing out. It would be all to easy to cut through the air and unleash the magic that churned beneath her skin.

    "I don’t need the help of a demon right now," she barked below her breath, locking green eyes with all too familiar hazel ones.
     
    #3 Ellana Lavellan, Nov 11, 2019 at 2:55 AM
    Last edited: Nov 11, 2019 at 3:02 AM
    Dorian Pavus likes this.