• Completed • The Prophecy of Maury

[Qit'ria]

Common Text
Xanthean Text
Kashehino Text
Ashan 62, 718 following this

Qit’ria slumped down against the stone wall, sweat beaded upon her brow, her breath a bit heavy. She looked around her. They’d made it into the mansion once more, fighting and eluding the Nightmare’s controlled guards. What was this room she was in now? It was full of small pots made of some sort of strange, shiny white clay, painted in fancy colors and designs. If she could read, she’d see it a carved sign upon the wall indicating it as a Relieving Room.

In the dreamscape, this was a room for many chamber pots, so ladies can continue to gossip during a party while relieving themselves. And there were other pots, for vomiting in, so that they could have room to try more food from the buffets. Qit’ria’s nose wrinkled at the heavy smell of urine. And part of her instinctually wished to begin marking the door and walls of this room, spread her own scent. But running while heavy with child had caused enough of the urine to escape her as was.

“Zeepa… What do? No keep running. How find what no see? No hear? No smell?”

Qit’ria had been using her echoed sense of smell and hearing during their fight and flight, and it helped wonderfully with the location of the Nightmare Guards, but did nothing to help find the monster itself. And Qit’ria struggled to understand how to fight concepts and incorporeal beings. The other Nightmare beasts had bodies to kill.

“Why room full of piss?”

Qit’ria’s baby kicked her hard in the ribs and she contained the groan from it. Her baby was strong, really strong. That was good, at least. It was no surprise to her though. She knew she was the strongest predator on the planet, and her red eyed lover, the baby’s father, was strong as well. She knew her child would grow up to be stronger than either of them. It wasn’t even born yet, but she was proud. Though would’ve preferred less bruises on her organs and bones.

“Baby strong, like father.”

[Zip]

There were nightmares. And then there were Nightmares.

And then there was this.

Trapped in a shadow-infested maze realm crafted from the every-loving of a Nightmare squeezing the life out of the dreamscape, hounded and pursued by a seemingly endless battalion of possessed shadow guards, protecting a pregnant woman who, on any other less encumbered occasion, was her go-to meat shield against the Emean Nightmares that seemed so keen on attacking her, and without the source of the Nightmare in sight-

This was not her idea of how to spend the night.

Also: she was in a latrine.’

She hadn’t needed to use a latrine since she was a little girl. Her magic, vain and aesthetically inclined, had deemed the labors of food and drink to be the concerns of lesser beings. No, nourishment was to be an art unto itself. She would feed on nothing less than the colors of the world, the Qualities of the Palette, the-

Yet somehow she never forgot the smell. Some of it coming from her companion.

“Why you full of piss, pissant?” she said irritably. She kept a good -or as good as she could maintain in the small room- distance away from any of the pots, her hand covering her chest, her legs pressed together to minimize the amount of area she was covering. She couldn’t, unlike her companion, bring herself to find some rest on the undeniably stained floor.

This was most undoubtedly her dreamscape because this was most undoubtedly her Nightmare in both senses of the word.

“I have no idea how we’re gonna do this. I can’t track it, you can’t track it. The guards are endless. We can try draining the fucko drain with magic, but it’s gonna be a beacon alerting every single guard in the dreamscape to our location - and I’m no expert on shapeshifting, but I suspect you can’t be doing much of it while the bun’s in the oven, yes?”

She would be pacing right now. She needed to pace to calm her nerves, to provide motion that would push a panicked mind - but this room was not conducive to that practice in too many ways. So she did the next best thing.

She tried to dredge up the part of her that gave the tiniest shit about what she could fathom was Qit’s unimaginably horrifying bedtime activities.

“Strong father?” she said. Keep your thoughts and your eyes on the huntress, Zipper. Nice and away from the pots. “From an Avriel?”

[Qit'ria]

Common Text
Xanthean Text
Kashehino Text

“No Become. Hurt baby.”

She remembered what had happened with Rynata and Bear, and hoped the baby was fine. It still moved so at least it was alive, but it seemed as though Becoming was tricky. Sometimes it kills or harms, sometimes not.

“Much Avriel. Not true Avriel. Big, strong. Feel like monster in room with him. No fly though. One wing. Dance good.”

“Mating dance?” Zeepa’s eye twitched. “An actual mating dance?”

Qit nodded, grinning slightly remembering that night fondly. “Yes. He my mate. But gone now. Leave Scalvoris. No know where.”

“I assume this Scalvoris has traditional family units? Pa. Ma. The little boo. Or do mothers raise their young alone where you come from?”

Qit’ria shrugged and half nodded, “Scalvoris, Desnind, full families. He not know he father. So he leave.”

“Is there no way to find him?” Zeepa said just a little too fast.

Qit’ria shook her head, “No know name. Scalvoris island. No tracking in big water.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight: you found a red-eyed avriel man in the wild, engaged him in a display of courtship, lay with him in your cave or hut or whatever den you live in, and then he disappeared without a trace. A season or two later, you find yourself with the bun. I’m following right so far?”

Qit smiled fondly now, for this was her type of ‘fairy tale’. “Yes. You right. Was tent.”

Then she remembered what Faith told her, “Mine friend, healer, think he kill people. Kill her friend. I no believe.”

Zeepa shrugged. It was an odd-looking movement with her arms hugging her body. “Why don’t you believe it?”

The smile slipped. She did believe it but didn’t want to believe it. After all, she’d been raised to never kill a person, and had stuck to that belief as best she could. She’d only tried to kill one man, and had failed to do that. But she didn’t want to murder, people weren’t meant to be hunted like animals were. She wanted to believe that he was like her. Strong, fierce, but never went too far.

In a mumble, “He is killer. It scare me, Zeepa. Why killer want me? I no is killer…” But she knew the truth. He never wanted her, at least not beyond a single night. He’d used her for her body, for her meat pie, for her tent, and then he’d left the following morning. Left her alone with his child. “I want find him. Show him baby. Make him mine.”

“I think…” Zeepa hesitated. “I… it’s a false dichotomy, the killer and non-killer thing.” Qit’ria didn’t understand the word, and a moment later, Zeepa apparently realized it too. “People don’t necessarily gravitate towards the same kind of people. I was with a guy who was a Defie- who spoke to the earth for two seasons. He was loud, dumb, very impulsive.” A different kind of look of pure disgust passed Zeepa’s face. “It worked for awhile.”

Qit didn’t know what a Defier specifically was, but the man she’d tried to kill could talk to wind and fire. It made sense to her that someone could talk to earth. “...He my first… He father of baby… Need find him. But is… no hope. He killer. Killer no want found.” Her features were dropped, forlorn. The father would never be found.

Zeepa was quiet for what seemed like a long time. She looked away from Qit’ria to the opposite wall, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t. Or couldn’t.

“This is important to you?” she finally said, still not looking at the huntress. There was a rigidity to her body language that was more than just her awkward posture.

“Most important is go home for baby. Papa must see baby first. After, yes. Mate most important.”

“Back to the island?”

She shook her head. “Desnind. Far south. Scalvoris is far north. I from Desnind. I on boatship to Desnind.”

“Right.” The reluctance in Fiona’s body language was palpable. Everything about her was a big, fat ‘NO’. “Okay, I might have something that can help you find this mate of yours.”

Qit’ria perked up, and her baby kicked hard again. Her eyes and attention were fully upon Zeepa now. She could see that the woman was hesitant, like a rabbit trying to figure out whether to run or stand still, hope the wolf didn’t see it. But Qit needed this, and had to push her friend. So she ignored the reluctance. “What you do?”

“I have the ability to,” Fiona closed her eyes, puzzling over the right, short words to use. “I can see things. I can know things. I can look into your soul and maybe, just maybe, I can find what you’re looking for.”

Qit’s eyes grew wide. Zeepa would look into her soul. Her heart was racing at the thought of that. It was terrifying. Ever since she had received her magic from Bear, she knew her soul wasn’t the same anymore. She could feel that thing inside of her. Alive, growing, wanting things that didn’t always match up with her own desires. It had led her to try and eat that woman Rynata’s soul. Qit’ria’s soul was a monster to her, and it scared her so bad. She wanted nothing more to race out of this piss riddled room, and get away from this soul snooper.

But her damn baby kicked again. Once. Twice. Harder and harder. And she knew she had to do this. Her mouth went dry, and she took a deep breath. “Do it. Please.”

“If I do this, it’s going to draw the Nightmare to us. I intend to use this session to weaken the Nightmare by taking ether from him, draw him to us in his lesser state, and do this soul thing with you. Three birds, one stone. We have what I assume to be a very short period of time before the Nightmare retaliates.”

Qit nodded, understanding this fully. She drew one of her imbued spears, finding comfort in having it ready should the Nightmare arrive too early. “Do it. Now.”

Zeepa looked around the room. She seemed to be looking for something important in the room of piss, and whatever it was she was looking for, the expression on her face told Qit’ria that it eluded her. She began walking around, looking at the walls, shaking her head occasionally, then looking at a different spot.

Eventually she threw her arms in frustration, removed her right glove, and tiptoed on her feet to touch a portion of one of the upper walls.

It struck Qit’ria then: she was looking for a not-dirty place to touch.

The ground below them rippled and rose as great tendrils of stone ripped themselves from the floor with a surprising amount of grace and a care that could have only have come from someone who didn’t want piss dribbling all over them. The tendrils, vaguely snake-like yet too rigid to be anything but a pale mockery, lanced forward to barricade the door, piling themselves one upon another and reshaping themselves into an extra protective layer around the entrance.

“That’s a bit of time bought. Let’s begin.”

[Zip]

She had promised a task she wasn’t sure she could accomplish.

Attunement was a magic of information, interpretation and, depending on who you asked, listening. What little Qit’ria knew about the alleged avriel lover made the information portion difficult to muster, affecting the other two components. She knew his race, fat good that it would do her, and she didn’t know his name or anything else about him for that matter. Her knowledge of him was just a shade deeper than nothing-

But Zipper was an Etzori Attunement officer right after she was an etherist. She would not be deterred even if the case she was presented was a sketchy at best.

She would have to infer. A lot.

With a practiced mental gesture, she opened the door to her soul, reached out, and gripped onto Qit’ria frequency by the proverbial shoulders. She gazed upon the tunes of the huntress’s souls, the hundreds upon thousands of notes that comprised the symphony that was the multitudes of Qit’ria: becomer, huntress, dreamwalker, mother-to-be, one-time lover to an Avriel-

A tremor that ripped through the entire room shook her from her connection; the Nightmare Beast’s metaphysical howl as she drained it little by little. She hastened the soul bridge she was making towards Qit’ria.

It usually took her a bit. She couldn’t have taken more than 45 trills this time.

“Qit’ria,” she said. “Don’t move. I’m inside.”

Qit’ria wanted to nod, but listened to Zipper’s command. She definitely didn’t want anything bad to happen to her own soul. “No move. Yes.”

The little inner ‘click’ that accompanied a secured frequency told her that the easy part was over. For a moment, Her eyes flashed something black and bloody hammering away at the walls of her vision; her particular witchbrand surfacing for a short bit. Other Attuners bore the eyes of something hacked apart and pieced back together like a puzzle. She, or rather her first spark, had other ideas on how she would express herself.

She dove in.

[Zip]

Every frequency was different. She knew that intellectually, but it still baffled her everytime she submerged herself into the sea of notes. Qit’ria herself was unique for the obvious reason; she was pregnant and Zipper had never had any reason to attune herself to a mother-to-be before this. That one simple yet complex difference altered the tune entirely.

What were the notes she could even try for to begin this search of searches? Where would she even start.

It was time to search by omission.

The Becoming notes were easy enough to guess at. Just as color upon the skin marked the initiation of those bloody shapeshifters, so too did vibrance grace their notes. As she tapped into their notes, she heard… heard was the wrong word. She felt the gnawing of wood, the slow rush of water in a stream, and a battering chorus of a something upon oaken wood. Behind that was the pattering of little feet that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, and even further back was the strange call of something high-pitched beneath an ocean that knew no storms-

“FUCK. GODDAMMIT, FUCK. No, no, don’t move. Don’t move. It’s nothing. Fuckin’ dolphin. Fuck.”

Shapeshifting forms? She could only identify the dolphin on account of her… extensive history with river dolphins. The second one could have been a rodent or whatever. The first she hadn’t the faintest.

She moved on.

She passed by the dreamwalker notes without comment; Jesine’s light was something she would never forget. The Hunter notes, too, were something she couldn’t miss. She pushed past the pregnancy notes, loud and proud, as if someone was playing some instrument she couldn’t for the live of her name for a very slow parade. Nothing she could infer from there. Wait… there was something obnoxiously pink crested within: notes within notes…

“It’s a girl,” Fiona said, dipping out from her search. “I have no inkling of which gender you wanted, but I’ll congratulate you all the same.”

Back into the sea again.

Another tremor greeted her just before she dived in. Nothing had tried to come through the door.

Yet.

[Zip]

Now that the broad areas of self-identity were cleared away, Zipper could swim free to search. But where could she look to find what she was finding? She reiterated to herself all the thngs Qit’ria didn’t know: no name, no background, no knowledge beyond a great lay and a child left behind. Where else could she look?

The answer dawned upon her and she grimaced internally.

She went in search for sex in the soul.

The tremor again, somehow both closer yet even more distant, rocked the room.

She found intimacy and she gazed inside… and a wave of eroticism washed over her and she rushed out of the array of notes straight away. She approached it more gently this time, akin to dipping your feet into a cold lake, and she begrudgingly took in the grunts and noises and the sudden clarity that whatever they did and whatever happened, Qit’ria was on top the whole time

Fuckin’ useful.

Another tremor. No guards banging against the doors. No guards ramming themselves bloody against the blockade.

And then a beam of sunlight broke through the tiny hole in the ceiling and-
And and she knew they were facing a different kind of problem.

“It’s running. The Nightmare’s cutting its losses. It’s leaving the dreamscape.”

And with it, the Nightmare would take away the quasi-reality that it had built to hunt them. Realistically, it cost Zipper nothing if she never found the answer. Personally? She couldn’t take it lying down. She was committed to an answer now and she was gonna cough up something before the blasted thing finished its chicken retreat.

Last resort then. Last fuckin’ resort.

“I’m am going to,” Zipper said very slowly, very painfully. “Hug you.”

Every mage has its quirks, every magic has its own individual traits that set it apart from others. Her attunement leveraged on physical connection to garner better, more lucid results. She stretched out her arms awkwardly, stepped forward, and closed them around the sitting Qit’ria.

Nothing. Not even a peep.

The beam of sunlight grew stronger, more intense. Whatever darkness was holding it back had almost released the day. The Nightmare had nearly fully relinquished its grip upon the dreamscape.

Dammit.

With a deep sign, she pressed her lips to Qit’ria’s and dug deep into the intimacy note.

[Qit'ria]

Common Text
Xanthean Text
Kashehino Text

Qit’ria relaxed into the hug, pressing her chest into Zeepa’s, being mindful of her swollen belly. While in the embrace, the baby kicked hard outward, potentially letting the transmutator feel it. Qit sighed, forgetting that she was within a nightmare, forgetting the world around her in the hold. She’d not been hugged since she was a girl, back before her sisters had died, back before she’d left home. Only her father had hugged her back then. Her mother’s form of love was teaching Qit’ria how to survive the harsh world.

She felt the sunlight growing stronger on her face, recognizing that the Nightmare was retreating. She wanted to snarl at it, hiss, claw at the air, taunt it back to them. But she didn’t. She was more of a mother and a friend in this moment than a huntress and warrior. And once Zeepa’s lips found her own, she realized that they were apparently really good friends. Qit’ria pressed her lips back into the kiss, her first, real kiss. Flaying Rynata really didn’t count. She continued the kiss, feeling the passion well up within her, even if it wasn’t returned in kind by the focusing mage. The same passion that surged through her was only felt one other time before now.

That night at the bar, in that moment on the dance floor, with her red eyed lover’s wing wrapped around her, her body into his own, and they were alone in a crowded room. That was when she knew she wanted him for her own. That was when she decided to take his hand, to lead him back to her tent. That was when she’d felt that strange, ugly gauntlet of his that he wore. It hadn’t matched his attire at all, and Qit’ria was never a fan of metal armor anyways.

That memory flooded her being in that moment of passion, the notes resounding outward. Passion, intimidation, desire, longing for this man, this part bird man with a strange gauntlet and one wing.

Qit’ria broke away from the kiss with a gasp, the Nightmare continuing its retreat, its hold on the dreamscape loosening. She knew that meant the pair of them would depart soon. Eyes wide in panic, “Zeepa, who he? Where? Where?!”

The questions were lost at what she saw: Zeepa was laughing.

Not the snide chuckle or the little grunts of amusement she had occasionally issued, but a full-blown, honest-to-god, belly-deep laugh. She clutched her tummy, laughing a laugh at something at something only she knew and no one else shared.

Even now she could feel her -them- both fading away.

“His-” Another burst of laughter stole precious trills away, but it seemed she couldn’t help it. “I know that dumb, growly face anywhere. But how did he get there?” More laughter, more trills gone.

“Tell me Zeepa! Who? Where?! Please!” It wasn’t often Qit said please, let alone twice in one day.

“Oh gods,” Zeepa said, her laughter stopping as abruptly as it started. She looked quite serious now. “Does he have a Rupturer powerful enough to traverse that kind of distance. That changes a lot of-”

“Zeepa!”

“Your lay’s name is Noth. He’s-”

But Zeepa was gone and so was she.

[Doran Cooney]

Qit'rrrrrrria

Knowledges
[*]Detection: The smell of urine
[*]Discipline: Allowing yourself to be held without reaction
[*]Endurance: Kicked in the ribs from within by baby
[*]Leadership: Keeping someone on task
[*]Meditation: Relaxing in physical contact
[*]Persuasion: Being demanding
[*]Persuasion: Pleading
[*]Tactics: Three birds, one stone

[*]Zipper: Former mate of an Earth Defier
[*]Zipper: Can look into people's souls
[*]Zipper: My first real kiss
[*]Zipper: Been inside my soul
[*]Zipper: My first hug in ages
[*]Zipper: Knows where Noth is
[*]Self: My baby is a girl
[*]Noth: I know his name now
[*]Noth: Father of my child

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Renown: N/A

Points 15

Zeepa

Knowledges
[*]Attunement: Catching glimpses of a Becomer’s totems through her Frequency
[*]Attunement: Frequency: Qit’ria
[*]Attunement: Note: Becoming
[*]Attunement: Note: Dreamwalking
[*]Attunement: Note: Gender
[*]Attunement: Note: Hunting
[*]Attunement: Note: Intimacy
[*]Attunement: Note: Pregnancy
[*]Tactics: Barricading the only entrance

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Renown: N/A

Points 15 - these can be used for Attunement

---

Kissy kiss kiss time!

I know Zipper wasn't proud of the thread, but I enjoyed it. I think there could have been a little bit of a better flow between your posts, especially as you were doing a google collab, but overall the story behind it was solid and engaging. The nightmare was a little bit tepid, so it didn't have as much of a feel of urgency as I would have liked, but you both took steps to address that it was still a problem, and I think it served its purpose well enough. The character interactions were good! Qit likes Zipper for whatever god only knows reason, lol, so it's funny to watch Zipper deal with someone who isn't annoyed/angry/want's to slap her. The dynamic was definitely different from anything I've seen Zipper in to date, and I'm looking forward to seeing how things go down when they finally meet. Good work!

Please edit your grade request, thank you!

Code: Select all

[center][img]/gallery/image.php?album_id=39&image_id=7932[/img]Doran Cooney[/center]