• Graded • The Door of Death

[Vega]

She had been more than prepared to be Very Irritated Indeed, and it was a good thing. Because, very quickly, she was.

When she couldn't dream-weave a key, that didn't really bother her. She hadn't expected to - after all, life rarely worked that way. Chuckles disappeared to get Arlo, she hoped, and then there was all the other stuff which was what irritated her to the point of wanting to punch someone. She kicked the door and it shattered. As that happened, Vega turned to Arlo and grinned. "Always late to the party, you are. Where've you been, husband?" To the fire-creature she added, "An' thanks, Chuckles, yer a righ' gem." The appearance of Arlo made her very happy, but then her other companions more than made up for the slight moment of happy.

It was the appearance of Hart and Lust which sent her off, as she saw them appear on the door she had just kicked in and saw that he was, "Yer naked an' flyin' yer colours? Are you real? Did the midwife drop you on yer head when you was born?" Gesturing down at him, she seemed particularly unimpressed with him - in all meanings of the word. "An' I get that it's cold an' yer embarrassed, but stop pointin' that in my direction, sunshine, an' go put some clothes on. No one's impressed except 'er, an' frankly, love," this was to Lust, "as distracting us from whatever it is what's goin' on here go, yer blatently pickin' off the easy ones. At least the two o' you's got that in common. Now, go an' get some clothes on an' stop actin' like an idiot. Or go bang her an' stay away while yer doin' it. Flibberties my gibbet, stupid people an' in the picture dictionary, next to the words 'stupid', 'inappropriate', an' of course 'idjit', there's a drawin' of yer teeny weeny an' skinny ass. Now sort yerself out or get out of my sight, the pair o' ya."

In many ways, it was a true shame that Vega didn't have children. She'd have continued berating Hart and his Lust-bunny, but she realised that the door they were standing on was... "Oh, monkeynuts an' fishbait, I didn't mean to 'it you with the door. What's the matter with you pair... GERROFF HIM!." The last, she yelled. As soon as Hart and his companion were off, she'd get the door off Luther, and help him best she could. "I'm right sorry, I had no idea you were be'ind it. Arlo, can you heal him?" Vega looked at Luther and considered that she was even more grateful for Arlo being here as things stood. One of the companions she had woken up in a cupboard with was evidently simply soft in the head - although he wasn't soft everywhere, but at least he was getting dressed. And the other one was fragile and too breakable.

All the Immortals save her.

As Arlo's stomach growled, Vega turned flashing eyes on to him. Her eyes were swirling all sorts of colours, but she was beyond annoyed. "Do not eat anythin' from this place, Arlo. It's not right nor natural an' that's that." Of the room they were in, though, she frowned. Hart appeared to have pulled himself together at least a little and was examining the body. "Chuckles, do you know anythin' about this place?" Vega asked, her gaze drawn to the painting. "Where's the ginger bloke?"

The conversation between Hart and Lust, though, caused literal sparks, embers to fly off Vega as her always tenuous grip on her temper snapped. "So hang on. It's the beautiful door cos death's beautiful? The way out of here is what we're lookin' for, an' in a very much bein' alive sort of way. Alright. This is squashin' my butternut, so lets jus' sort it out. You both," she said, gesturing to Lust and Chuckles "obviously know more about what this place is, an' what's happenin' here. An' you're both obviously happy to answer questions. You too," that was to the helpful man. "So, hows about this? You tell us. What this place is, what we're doin' here. How we got here an' why us. Then, one of you - probably the one what won't turn the parchment to dust cos of bein' a fire-dude, draws us a map, or directions, or whatever we need. Tell us how to get out, alive, an' what's happenin'. If someone needs help, we'll be able to decide if we help or not. But if you mess me about an' play all coy with me, I'm gonna get really, really testy."

She looked at them and nodded. "So, come on. Time to talk." Then, as she realised something, she added. "Arlo, this is Hart an' Luther. This is my husband, Arlo."

After all. Manners were important.

[Arlo Creede]

Arlo had been in a dusty old library, surrounded by two companions who'd descended into such a panic that they were as good as useless, unless they got hold of themselves. There was a Harvester that was as good as attached to his side, saying it was there to help, and well, too much else had been going on to keep a proper accounting of. And then Chuckels had shown up. Arlo had to lead him to Vega. It was the last thing he really remembered. Which was probably a good thing. If he'd realized what was happening, he'd have said it was a really, really bad way to go.

Then there he was at Vega's side. In a dizzying blink of an eye and his head was spinning. This definitely wasn't the library, but were they in the same house? Judging by what he'd learned so far, he tended to think so. "Are you alright?" he asked Vega. It was the first and last thing on Arlo's mind. The stuff in the middle wasn't quite as important, until it became a threat to her welfare. "I think I might know who she is," he said, with a jerk of his chin towards the dark haired, very much dead woman on the couch.

Immortals, he was hungry. Arlo blamed the harvester. "Where are your clothes," he muttered darkly, spying the man on the top of the door, and the harlot who was draped over him like a cheap cape. But then they were standing on someone, it appeared, and he helped with the lifting of the door. Vega as usual was full of opinions, and let them be known in a way that only she could. Arlo couldn't help but grin, so long as he wasn't the target of her temper flareup. "That's my bride," he said, and considered just what he could do for Luther.

By calling on the abilities that U'frek had given him, he might just be able to help. "If you don't mind?" he said to Luther. And if the man didn't object, the multicolored aura that was ever present around Arlo from head to toe, would change slightly as he reached out a hand and laid it on Luther's shoulder. A strand of cottony blue separated itself from the other colors, snaked out and wrapped itself around Luther like a glowing halo. So long as the man's injuries were fairly minor ones, it should fix him right up.

And as for his growling stomach, Arlo grinned at Vega as he reached into his sack. "i never go anywhere without being prepared," he said, and pulled out an apple to eat. Anything at all in his belly at this point, would make a difference. "I'm not sure what's been happening here, and I don't know what any of you have learned before. But before I ended up here I was in a library, maybe in this same house. There were undead things outside the windows that were unable to get in. But there was a Harvester there, said he was there to help. And between him and the books I learned a little about this place, any why we may have been brought here."

"This place, I was told, is the Mistress's Mansion and is home to one the oldest, strongest Empties. That may be her," he added, gesturing to the corpse on the couch. "Somewhere, maybe, in the Eternal Empire. She's thought, apparently, to be the first woman to have committed adultery. So long ago though that nobody knows for sure. We apparently, are intended to find a door, or those of us in the library at least were intended to. I looked at a book that I'd found on a shelf, the Door of Souls. It was a journal of sorts, written by a man who claimed to be a Seeker. He'd been searching for the Door of Souls for two lifetimes but had never found it. He believed it was in this house."

"But then he took a mistress. Maybe her," he said, gesturing towards the woman, "and maybe that's him," Arlo added, looking at the painting of the redheaded man. "He forgot about the door, his family, everything, and devoted himself to her alone. Apparently she was quite a looker. He'd devoted fifty or more pages to extolling her many virtues. But I think maybe that the harvester, all the other dead or half dead things maybe, are stuck here until that door is found." Although, he added, maybe those of them that were here had a different mission to complete. Arlo had no way of knowing. What he did think though, was that until that door was found and something was done about it, then maybe all the unnatural things would stay trapped here. Maybe even them.

[Luther]

Luther had gone to the door as Vega had asked, choosing an ghostly form of entry while she went off to grab a dancer to aide them. He saw no need to draw any more attention to themselves than was necessary, and once he was behind the door he was glad he had taken the careful route. A room both decadent and decay laid out before him. Carvings of lions, a marble fire place, and moth-eaten dresses hanging upon statues; even in its state of disarray it had to have been the fanciest place Luther had ever stumbled across. For a moment, the insanity of the trial washed away from him and the man enjoyed the simple peace of the quiet lounge.

That was before he noticed the corpse, and before the door exploded into him.

Searing pain shot through his chest as he crashed into the ground. The sickening crack of bone stirred the once silent air. His breath felt like fire as he tried to gasp through the pain of a pair of cracked ribs, and Luther was very severely reminded of the lesson that all living eventually learn: life was pain. He tried to right himself, slip the door off his back so he could at least stand with some amount of dignity, but before he could what felt like a stack of bricks slammed down into the door again. Pushed further into the ground, the human was sure that some Immortal was getting their sick kicks from his plight.

There was some commotion from either whomever was outside the room, or on-top of him, or perhaps both. Luther honestly couldn't tell, and he honestly couldn't care at this point. His face pressed down into floor, he tried his best to remind his fellows of his presence.

"SHOMEONE. HELP. PWEASE." he spoke as loud as his position allowed him, unable to remove the door and the two figures on top of him with his own strength.

Sure enough, relief did arrive by way of Vega's swift chiding. He felt the weight on his back move, and with the woman's help he was finally standing on his feet again. Anger and embarrassment made his face flush red, and he opened his mouth to admonish everyone involved in this series of errors. At her offer of help, and her husband's kindness, Luther closed it shut. He watched in wonder as a strand of blue aura touched his body and wrapped it in warmth. The aching in his ribs dulled to quiet throb, and whatever annoyance was caused by his injury was minimized substantially. He could only wonder what manner of magic the man wielded. He'd have to ask after they sorted out this current mess.

"Thank you, and it's good to be meeting you. You're wife is quite a talker, especially when it's concerning your safety," he said to Arlo. He turned back to Vega, intentionally ignoring Hart and his spirit. "It's alright. Let's just focus on getting outta here, sound fine?"

Luther watched in contemplative silence as Arlo explained his experience. A library in a mansion, undead clawing at windows, and even a Harvester, whatever that was. Sounded like this fella had a rougher time than they did with wherever he was dropped off. At the mention of Empties, Luther spoke up.

"Trust me, that corpse ain't no Empty. If it were, we'd already be drained faster than a well in Saun. They're hungry bastards, and they ain't exactly known for being playing dead. Well, deader I suppose," he replied to Arlo's theory, shooting it down swifter than he meant to. Maybe he was tipping his hand too much among strangers, but at this point hiding his knowledge about the undead would only hurt their chances of getting out alive. After all, who better to explain ghosts than a lost spirit made sane?

"Worse than that, not even other ghosts are safe from Empties. It twists their obsessions, the reason why they're still here on Idalos, and chains it to whatever the Empty is fixated on. Slaves to its desire; never seen it happen myself but I heard it ain't pretty. Honestly, best thing to do is find this door and get while the getting is still good. And if that door is really binding them to this Mistress, than we need to find it even quicker. We owe the dead that much."

"Why is the door beautiful?" Hart's voice rang out suddenly.

"Because death is beautiful." The Lust spirit responded.

"Fuck off!" Luther began, surprised by the severity of his voice. He took a step towards the spirit, violence in his tone. "Why the fuck would you say that? Death is a whole lot things, but beautiful sure-as-shit ain't one of them. I know that better than anyone."

He felt himself getting angry. This wasn't just the "annoyed-that-a-door-broke-him" type of anger. This was the anger of a dead man clawing its way into Luther's recently acquired living state. If they weren't so reliant on what these spirits knew, he'd be half tempted to syphon their wagging tongues shut. If he were the irrational phantom he had been but moments before he arrived at the Palace of Lions, he would have.

Yet, he was living, and if he wanted to stay that way he knew he had to act rationally. Which meant not eliminating one of the few sources of information his expanding group had access to, no matter how infuriating her salacious speech was. Nostrils flaring and breathing deep, Luther stepped off towards the fireplace to get a handle on his anger. Hart, for as strange as the man was, seemed on the verge of...well something. He wouldn't allow his angry outburst to stop whatever little progress they could make.

[Aegis]

Ashan 30, 719, Maybe

At Hart's calling for Vri, there was no answer, with no apparent reason.

Chuckles looked at Vega, pondering on her question. "I don't think so... But.." Chuckles reached out, snatching up the embers that were emanating from Vega, consuming them, taking on the emotions that were overflowing from her. He dared not take any more, just that which was ablaze and potentially going to waste. After all, just as Vega did, Chuckles maintained proper manners. Chuckles, flaring with Vega's temper, his flames growing, slipped past Luther, who was now staring at the fireplace. Chuckles tossed himself into the hearth, and it roared to life. And alongside it, every candle in the room lit up as well, and every flame was in color.

Meanwhile, the helpful man was quite clearly ignoring Vega, as he danced in the room outside. The dancing had not stopped, nor slowed, when Vega had kicked down the door. But Chuckles-in-the-fireplace and Lust, were ready to answer Vega's many questions, as best they could.

Chuckles and Lust answered simultaneously, "This is the Palace of Lions." Then a flame swatted at Lust, and she hissed at Chuckles, as he took over, clearly not at all influenced by Vega's temper. "Ma'am. You all, and others, were called by the spirits we answer to, in order to find some doors. We were not told what is beyond those doors, but we were told to help those we were assigned to, with the fullest of our ability. I was contacted by the great spirit of Scalvoris' Volcanoes"

Chuckles knew that might be a touchy subject for Vega, considering she'd been sacrificed in the name of that spirit, and brought back. But Chuckles was not about to start lying or withholding from the fiery woman. "As for why each person was selected, we don't know. Nor do we know why each of us were asked to help."

He was about to continue when Hart's Final Moment took hold.

The ability worked, a bit too well, a bit too far beyond its normal bounds. For this was no normal woman who'd died, nor was her death by any means normal. All four people in the room were taken in by the ability. Through their eyes, the entire room sprang back to life, in full color. And each of them were wearing the dead woman's visage. They were beautiful, each of them, though, each wore a different colored dress, albeit in the exact same cut as that which the corpse wore.

Hart was in a dark blue, Arlo in a vibrant red, Vega in a deep green, and Luther in a bright yellow.

They were dancing about in their private chamber, occasionally stopping at the mirror to inspect their appearance, or admiring another piece of the room. It seemed they were all moving along the same circuit of each other, the exact same motions the woman had taken before her death, just in different times from one another. At one point, she spoke, "Tonight shall be our first dance."

Then a blade of pure obsidian stabbed out the front of her chest, with no entry wound in her back. Every person wearing her visage felt the stab, the stab that came from Idalos and yet struck her here. The women that were all one slumped to the ground, dead, just as Faldrun entered the room, wearing his finest suit, ready for his first dance. He fell to his knees as the light from Daia's eyes faded, as the blade that killed her from Idalos disappeared.

Their vision faded, and the four companions found themselves just as they had been before the vision took over. Chuckles looked at Vega, "If anyone has a door of their own, they can leave through that, I think. But... I don't think any other such doors exist." Then Chuckles grew silent, and Lust slinked away to sit upon a dusty chaise lounge, pouting and fuming.

"I'm sorry I cannot be more help ma'am. This is as new to me as you. We know that of the four, this door is the most beautiful."

And with that admission, the area around the fireplace began to become colored, as Chuckles' flames began to wane, dimming the light in the room.

!	Message from: Aegis
	If you have any questions, you may ask, I may answer. I may not. I will post again on April 29th.

[Hart]

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Common sign"

extra line here
Vega berated him, and throughout it Hart did not look at her. Most of it made no impact on him. But when she said he was stupid, he glanced up.

She was right.

He looked away from her.

He wanted to be gone from this place. The others didn't like him because of what he'd done and that was fine. He didn't need them to like him. He needed to get out. Hart focused on the corpse on the couch, and gently touched the back of her hand.

When he came out of the spell he was grasping at the wound in his chest. But there was no wound. He was confused. He and the woman, the both of them were confused. He had a moment where his mind was still with her, and he was still on the floor, and he was dying. He didn't understand how, and he was dying. And Faldrun was there. He thought --she thought-- they were going to dance.

Then Hart took his hand away from the dead woman and bowed his head.

"I'm sorry," he said, very quietly to her.

"Her name is Daia, I think," he said to the others. He didn't look at them. "This is the Palace of Lions. She's the Lioness. She was the immortal of Dance and the people, out there, they're dancing." He paused. "I spoke about her once, briefly, with Edasha."

But I ask this-- are we not unable to dance?

But none of that mattered, he supposed. Knowing who the woman was; was that important?

Hart glanced around the room and then said, in a voice that was quite resigned, "I'm not fucking smart enough for this." Perhaps it was best to start searching the room. But for now he stayed where he was and he thought.

The door was of death, that much they knew. "Grey," he muttered. He and the others were in color. Everything else was grey. Why?

He didn't know.

He looked at the fireplace.

The fireplace had been lit up in color by Vega's fire spirit and reluctantly, Hart stood. He grimaced and then, after faltering a moment, he crossed to the fire and thrust his hand into the flame.

It burned.

He pulled his hand back as fast as his arm could take it. His hand felt as if it was still in the flames, and even though it had only been in the fire for trills, perhaps less, the skin was a bright, angry pink. He thought it might blister. It hurt to touch. It just-- hurt. Hart let out a breath, then another, holding his hand close.

Then he stood and walked from the room.

He stalked past the dancers, looking for another fireplace or source of fire. His hand burned. It wasn't the worst pain he'd ever felt but it wasn't a pain that he could ignore, either. Lust sulked along behind him as he walked. Hart found a candle, glittering with grey light, and then, faltering again, he put his hand into it.

There was nothing. It didn't burn.

He took his hand back.

"Lust," Hart said. He curled his burnt hand into a fist and that-- that hurt. Still, he kept his hand in a fist as he spoke to her. "What will happen if we leave this place and go into the darkness? And please don't say that you'll miss us. What will actually happen?"

"Without a Navigator," the spirit said, and Hart thought that she seemed to be enjoying herself as much as he was at the moment; which was to say, not at all. "You'd be lost for eternity, or until you were eaten."

"Great," Hart replied. So that was out.

"If Chuckles was sent here by a higher spirit," Hart asked, "Then who were you sent by?"

"The Induk of Immortal's Tongue," Lust said.

At least she was answering him, Hart thought. Though he didn't know what the Induk of Immortal's Tongue had to do with Lust or himself.

He walked up to one of the dancers.

It wasn't the dancing man, but a woman, and Hart extended his unhurt hand to her with a short smile. "Miss, would you mind coming with me for a moment? We could have a dance after, if you like." He put some charm in his smile and ignored Lust, who was tromping along behind him. If the dancer agreed, he would tuck her hand into his arm and bring her to the Lioness' room. There he would say, "Please, if you could. Do you happen to see a door in this room? I've been told it's quite beautiful."

If she could see a door, he would ask her if she might open it.

Hart would go with the woman if she requested a dance. However, before he did he would say to the others, "It's a door of death, isn't it? So perhaps we can't see it."

But before he returned the dancer to the dance floor, he also cast another glance at the dead woman lying on the velvet couch. She was in color like Hart and Lust and the rest of them, and he didn't know what to make of that.

So briefly, Hart closed his eyes and looked at the woman on the couch. If she was truly dead, if all of her was gone, he shouldn't be able to get a sense from her.

Then, on a whim, he did the same to the dancer on his arm.

OOC: Hart is using his mortalborn ability Fulfillment on Daia and on one of the dancers. Fulfillment reads:

Hart can sense when a nearby being is in need of help, and what it is the being needs. If pressed, he can also sense what the being wants, though this will double the severity of drawbacks he experiences. /description

He's using it on Daia to try and figure out why she's still in color. Basically, if he gets a response from her, it means that some... sense of her is still there, which might explain why she's not grey. He's using it on the dancer to try and figure out if she wants or needs anything, as well.

[Luther]

Luther took a startled step back as Chuckles nestled into the fireplace in front of him, muttering a curse under his breath when light began to fill the room. He was long past tired of all of this magical nonsense. Spirits made of flame and strangers who wielded abilities he had never even dreamed of before; it was clear to the man that out of everyone in this room he belonged the least. Yet, he was trapped here with the rest of them. Called to the Palace of Lions by the spirits, if Chuckles were to be believed. He wasn't sure if he did buy that explanation. Too much was missing from that picture, and too many questions were left unanswered.

"So where's mine?" Luther inquired in reply to the spirit's explanation. "Vega's got you, and it's clear that Hart is mighty close to that harlot over there, so what spirit stands with me?"

The man stared into the flame's smiling eyes, waiting for a response to sing out of the smoke.

And then he was in a bright yellow dress. He wasn't even Luther anymore, at least not right now. He was whatever the Final Moment made him into. In some strange way, the experience was like a more intimate version of syphoning a Hex. Instead of being an objective observer in the memory, however, Luther was living these last moments of the Lioness. There was dancing. A black blade. A man in red whose eyes bled ash and anger. Of course, there was the cold touch of death.

Luther exited the vision gasping for air, hand clawing over his chest in search of slender shard of obsidian that had been sprouting out of him a moment before. His arms and legs shook terribly as the man attempted to stand, his grip on the fireplace's mantle so tight his knuckles turned white. He heard Chuckles mention something about creating their own exits, but Luther was too lost in terror to respond to the spirit or any of his companions.

"Not again. Please, please not again."

His voice was weak and pitifully small, his vision blurry with scared tears. Not again. He had known death once already, and his soul still bore the searing scars of his passing. The trauma was fresh in the man's mind, and even though the death was Daia's and not his own, the experience was enough to send the former-specter spiraling. Visions of his own death replacing that of the Immortals, soundless sobs tore out of Luther. He had forgotten this part; how much pain a living soul could feel. Hollow eyes stared out at his companions in the room, and so lost was he in his own mind that he barely reacted when Hart shoved a hand into the hungry flame. He didn't blink when Hart stalked out of the room, or even respond to Arlo's or Vega's presence. A gaze filled with memories of ash, Luther was, if only for a few moments, trapped within his trauma.

Then, as all children of the Empire did, he soldiered past it. Slowly, so slowly, the memories of his death began to fade and Luther blinked back into awareness. Hart was back in the room again, this time with a ghostly girl on his arm. The man's reasoning was sound, if only because Hart wasn't aware of Luther's nature.

"No, I'd be able to see it if that was the case. I'm more like her than I am like any of you," he offered, his voice barely more than a whisper. He turned to Chuckles next, responding to a point he made whilst Luther was in the midst of his panic. "I...I can open a portal into the Beneath. Would that help us find this door?"

“That... should work,” the spirit of fire replied before shrinking the size of its flame.

The dim light matched Luther's now somber mood, and the human released his vice-grip on the fireplace. Traversing would help, but at his current skill level that would take half-a-trial. Too long. Too long to be in this Palace and too many variables that would remain unaccounted for while he attempted to Tear the Veil. No, he had a different idea on how to escape this Palace.

Quietly, and with purpose, he began to walk towards the corpse of Daia. Everyone here spoke of death, spoke of this door, as being beautiful, but they did not know death like he did. They may have experienced it adjacently, or perhaps even directly, but Luther was the only one here who had to face it trial after trial. Whose every waking movement was defined by it. Who knew not only the face of Vri, but what happens to those that reject his hand. About what Anchors kept these ghosts bound to this Palace of Lions.

His steps shaky, his breath shallow, Luther placed one hand on the ruby which hung around the corpse's neck. With the tenderness of a lover, the living dead placed his lips on dead Immortal's and opened his soul to her lifeless body. A fragile, grasping thread linked the necklace, the corpse, and the living dead together, and with the trinity established Luther tried to syphon from both. He would attempt to drink deep from the two, enough so that if the pair were anchors or hexmarks they would be absorbed into him. Because Luther knew what made death beautiful.

Death was beautiful because it gave meaning to life. It was beautiful because it was the last chapter in a tale told by thousands of people, mortal and Immortal alike. It was time that these ancient souls were laid to rest. Time for their story, for Daia's story, to end and for these halls to find a final quiet. He hoped he could help them all find a peace in Vri's embrace that Luther knew he never would.

[Aegis]

Date

The ghostly dancer that Hart attempted to charm was, in fact, quite charmed. But before the woman could respond appropriately to Hart's request for her to see a beautiful door, she grasped at her face and let loose a blood curdling scream.

"She's dead! Daia's dead!"

There was a shift in the mood of the other inhabitants. The music that was playing now became fast and aggressive, with a particularly high amount of fiddle. And they began to dance their way up to the room that Hart, Arlo, Vega, and Luther currently found themselves in. The dancer with Hart, panic in her eyes, "She... she was just alive! You killed her!" The woman was pointing a shaky finger at the group.

Hart would find that he could sense something from Daia's corpse. A deep, yearning hunger. It was hard to pinpoint what this was for, but it would be clear that something about the dead Immortal sought mortals. As for the dancer that had been on his arm moments before, he no longer needed his ability to know what she needed, and wanted.

"Kill them!"

And so, the dancers continued to dance toward the door that Vega had so kindly shattered earlier, some snapping their fingers, others twisting and turning. But all eyes were on them, and all eyes sought revenge. They intended to spill blood, and they were moments away from the door.

!	Message from: Aegis
	Congratulations! You're now moments away from a combat scenario. This round has now reset, so all 4 PCs may respond. Your deadline is now extended to May 1st, however, if all 4 post by April 29th, I will post then.

[Luther]

As Luther's lips brushed against the dead mouth of a dancing god, his whole body was set alight with emotions that were not his own. Powerful, deep feelings swallowed the human as he syphoned the corpse. Creeping strands of loneliness snaked out of the Immortal and trailed its frozen fingertips across his soul. The urge to protect, defiant and definite, roared soundlessly into Luther's mind; shaking the fragile pillars of stability the man had hastily constructed. An echo of the lioness, still protecting her pride, clawed at the connection he had established through his syphon. The man's body shuddered in pleasure as her emotions were absorbed into him; fiercely fighting to maintain their bond. Luther let his hand fall from the necklace around the woman's neck and instead cradled the dead immortal's head with both of his hands; deepening the draining process. Against all odds, Luther had been right. Daia was so much more than what she appeared to be. She was an Anchor. And Luther wouldn't let go until it was empty of its emotional energy and these ghosts were allowed to rest with Vri in death.

His soul still open to the corpse, the human removed his lips from hers and let his hands maintain their bond. Hands that nearly slipped free from cold, dead flesh at the sound of a blood-curdling scream.

"Shit!" he swore, unwilling to turn from Daia's unmoving form. He heard movement from behind him, but he couldn't look without severing his already fragile syphon. There was the sound of panic, of frightened exclamations, and a final, decisive shift in the music of the dance hall.

"Kill them!"

"Don't try to reason with them!" Luther cried out in response. "Ghosts this riled up ain't liable to listen! Make a barrier with salt, ring some bells, or cut 'em with copper if you got it! Just keep 'em off me! Daia is their anchor here, and if I syphon it dry they'll be banished for good!"

He did his best to give his companions as much of an advantage as he could while maintaining his connection to the corpse. But soon, the rest of the room fell from his mind. All that remained was Luther and the Anchor.

This syphon was different from all others he had attempted. It wasn't driven by desire or by an attempt to emulate life around him. No, this was more intimate, more intentional than anything he had done before. What drove his descent into Daia's deepest emotional echoes was not hate or hunger, it was purpose. He didn't just want to release these souls, he needed to. For as much as he railed against Famula, Vri, and all of their followers in his undeath, he now found himself acting as the harbinger of their intent. Perhaps the first time since his death all those arc ago, Luther felt like he had a true purpose in Idalos.

He would break the Anchor that tethered these ghosts to the Palace of Lions, he would open the Door of Death, and he would defend his companions with his life. He would be the Lantern that lead all of these souls to their salvation.

Or he would die a second death trying to.

[Hart]

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Common sign"

extra line here
The woman on Hart's arm abruptly let out a scream.

She didn't just scream. She screamed in absolute despair.

Hart was right next to her and he put out a hand as if to steady her. "Are you--" Alright, he almost asked her, but she wasn't alright because she'd just realized her goddess was dead.

Oh.

Hart had,

he had sort of thought that the dancers might already know their immortal was dead. Or maybe it was that he'd thought they were in denial. Because of that, he hadn't thought the dancer would even notice the corpse in her fancy dress on the velvet couch.

But she had.

Luther was doing something bizarre, and Hart heard the sound of violins shrieking from the unseen band in the next room. The whole lot of the dancers began to dance ominously towards them, snapping their fingers and twisting, and Hart looked at Luther, looked at Vega, looked at Arlo.

And then he burst into laughter.

He put his hands to his face and he fucking howled.

They're going to kill us, he thought, and they're dancing. He had had sex with a lust spirit for nothing and he had put his hand in a fire for nothing and they were all of them going to be trampled in a deathly bout of choreography.

He tried to stop the howling. He managed to do it, but the laughter had gotten to him. His stomach hurt. The fucking dancing. He was going to cry.

"We didn't kill her," he giggled. He managed to get in a breath. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, still giggling. He couldn't stop. He couldn't. "It's not funny, it's not funny. But the dancing."

"Pfft," he said, and then started howling again.

This is it, he thought hysterically. This is how I die.

"We didn't kill her," he said again. He took another gulping breath. It wasn't funny. It really wasn't. If he didn't do something he would be March of the Empress stomped to death. The violins nearly screamed.

"Your Lioness," he said, and then said, "Hoo," letting the last of the laughter die. "Your Lioness was murdered, long ago. I'm sorry." He was sorry about that. "Look around you. It's all grey here. It's dead."

"But she," he said, and indicated the corpse on the couch, "Might not be. Not fully. So listen to me," he said.

"My name is Hart Eda'quoat. My mother is Edasha. Edasha was Daia's friend. She visited here often. I would never have hurt Daia. None of us would have." Except he didn't know what Luther was doing.

"There is something still left of your goddess. I don't know what it is, but it's there. I've sensed it within her. And I have brought people back before."

"Let me try," he said softly, all the laughter gone, and then, as he had with Daia before, he looked upon them. All of them. Almost immediately his head hurt. It was painful, to look upon so many of them at once. It was confusing, almost. His heart thudded in his chest.

But he kept looking. He was looking for a very specific Need. A very specific Wish.

They were Daia's followers. They were perhaps the only people who kept her from decay. Certainly, amongst them, there might be one who could-- who could allow him to try to bring her back. It was the only thing he could think to do. There were more of them, many more of them, than there were of him and Vega and Arlo and Luther. They hadn't yet found the Door of Death. They didn't have a method of escape, and the dancers looked as if they would kill.

Daia had been dead a long time and Hart didn't know what it might take to wake her. He didn't know if he would be able to. He knew if he was able to wake her, it would hurt him. Perhaps it would hurt him a lot.

But he would try.

As long as there was a Wish to grant.

Hart's lost it everyone. He is so, so stupid. I love it.

Okay so he's looking for one of Daia's followers to Wish her back to life, basically. He's wagering that at least one amongst them desperately Want and Need her back. If he finds that Wish, he will grant it. If he doesn't find that Wish, he won't grant it because he can't.

Even if he brings her back to life, I think it's possible she might not wake up. She might need devotion for that.

Wish reads:

Hart has the ability to grant Wishes. As the mortalborn of Need, he is able to grant a being's truest, deepest Wish. This Wish is not what a being thinks they most want, but what a being most truly Needs.

By using Wish in tandem with his Fulfillment ability, Hart is able to get a grasp of a being's truest Needs-- not just what they need right now, but what they need most of all.

Each Wish is individual and needs to be approved by the PSF. Should a Wish involve one or multiple PCs, all PCs involved are to be included in the approval process. The types of Wishes Hart grants usually have to do with undoing past or current trauma or protecting from future harm. /description

Let me know if I need to set up a PSF ticket for the Wish, if it happens. As this is a modded thread, I didn't know if that is needed.

[Vega]

"Quite a talker? Watch it, sunshine. You seem like an alright person, but you won't be able to hear me talkin' if I box yer ears for you." Vega lifted a hand to her forehead and wiped at the sweat - since Faldrun's curse on her, she was constantly over heating and running a temperature. The feeling of that really did not help her temper at all. She listened to Arlo's story and then frowned slightly at Luther as he spoke. "A'right, hang on an' back up. If that's Daia, an' she's older than dust, then who's to say that an Empty that old an' that powerful to begin with isn't completely different to what you've met? I mean.. seems to me that we can't base our understandin' of this place on what we understand reality to be, 'cos it's not nothin' like it. She don't look like any corpse I've ever seen, but it don't mean she isn't dead. Outside the box, dude." All the Immortals save her and thank Cassion that Arlo was here because until that point, Chuckles had more sense than all of her companions put together.

"An' I hate to point it out," Vega pulled a fan out of her pocket and began to fan herself, "but I'd say 'chained to what someone is fixated on' is a pretty good description of a lot of the dancin' folks here, innit? I mean, I died once. Got judged by the twins an' all that." She was speaking mostly to Luther and Hart, because goodness knew, Arlo knew this. "An' it were ... well, it were kind of like this. Misty, though, but muted an' like... well, that don't matter. But it could sort of kind of fit so lets not dismiss anythin' while we're all still so obviously out of our depth."

Then, Hart spoke and the Lust-bunny answered, Luther shouted and swore and Vega sighed. "A'right, that's not helpful. Shoutin' an' gettin' worked up ain't helpin' no one, quit it. An' as for you..." looking at Lust, Vega shook her head. Chuckles answered her question and Vega considered it. "That's the loser what they burned me alive in the name of yeah? Next time you talk to it, Chuckles, tell it I said jog on." That, it seemed was that. With a slight shrug to Arlo, she spoke. "I can't blame a fire spirit for bein' fire, can I? She's born to be gaggin' for it an' makin' everyone around her gag for it too," not something Vega seemed impacted by, in fairness, but there it was.

She was just about to impart some more wisdom when everything went sideways. Glancing down at the deep green dress she wore, Vega felt a swell of delight as she saw the room. "Well, it's as fancy as the Dawn Ball, innit?" The redhead muttered that to herself, and she gasped as she felt the sudden, awful, stabbing in her chest.

Vega had died before, burned alive as she said, but this pain was entirely different. Then, it had been every nerve ending, every part of her but in the moment that this happened, Vega understood why they called the death of the Originals Shattering. As she fell to the floor, clutching at the pinpoint of exquisite pain, she spoke in a broken whisper. "Arlo?" Please, she thought, don't let him see this again. Not again. And, as her vision clouded over for the last time, as death took her, she saw him. But not her husband, no.

"Father?"

Otherwise known as 'charcoal butt', Vega recognised Faldrun because he was her father. The mortalborn girl saw something in that moment, something which later - if there was a later - she would remember and would cause her to think. As he had walked in he had looked different. If this was what had happened, then this moment was the one which changed him.

Clutching at her chest, she looked up at Chuckles as he continued to speak. "Ah, nuts," she said. Turning to Arlo, tears sparkled in Vega's eyes. "He lost his wife. That's ironic, innit?" She was trembling, visibly. "I gotta say, dyin' is gettin' a bit old hat now. I felt..." but then, as she looked at him, really looked at him, Vega realised something. Arlo didn't need to speak to tell her and she stepped and took his hand, her skin warm and her expression compassionate. "You too?" The hand in his squeezed gently, but she said no more.

Hart seemed to have lost his tiny mind, sticking his hand in the fire and then....

Well then all hell broke loose.

Vega looked around in surprise, dismay, uncertainty. She didn't know what on Idalos was happening. But she knew that she had to help. She had to do what she could and so, she did something which might, possibly, surprise those who did not know her. Of course, it would provoke no such response in Arlo.

Vega lifted her voice and began to sing. The songOft, in the still of night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound him,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other trials around him.

The smiles, the tears
Of endless years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimm'd and gone,
The Immortal heart now broken!

Thus, in the still of endless night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound him,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other trials around him.

When he remembers all
The kin, so bound and link'd together,
He saw his love, his family fall
Like leaves in wintry weather,

He feels like one
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!

Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound him.
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other trials around him.

(Original: The Light of Other Days - by Tom Moore
I just Idalosed it. We'll call it "Faldrun's Lament" ) lifted and Vega used the ability granted to her by her father's blood. She didn't know if slowing down the dancers would help and there were too many of them for her to make a difference. So, she used the song to speed up three people. Arlo, Hart and Luther.

Off Topic

: Mortalborn ability = Tempo. It is: Unlike her father, the Immortal of Turmoil, Vega is able to see the rhythm in a given situation. In combat, in her innate musical talent, in dancing or even in her worship, Vega is able to see the patterns and sense the rhythm in any circumstance. However, in order to do that, she needs to step back and take a clear look at the situation. With this ability, Vega is able to slow the tempo of a situation down, so long as she is playing an instrument or singing. When she is doing this, she is able to manipulate the tempo of a combat. This impacts up to three people and allows Vega to either speed up the tempo, for them (thus making them faster moving) or slowing it down (thus, slower). In practical terms, it allows her to speed up or slow down up to three individuals in a combat by a factor of 50%. This must be either speeding up, or slowing down and can not be both at once.

Thanks!