Vast ammounts of waste (plot)
Dec 19, 2022 0:42:06 GMT -5
Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 19, 2022 0:42:06 GMT -5
The battle was hardly over before strong arms threw themselves around Cyran’s shoulders, and he was wrapped in a firm hug from Vi’ira. At first, he was so stunned that he was not sure how to react- he had expected her scorn, her fear, after what she’d seen him do. He had not expected such care and concern, as if his own life was something that was allowed to be considered precious to others.
And, as he stood there, as still as a statue, he realized that this was the first time he’d received such affection in a decade.
With trembling arms that seemed to have almost forgotten how to reciprocate a hug, Cyran held Vi’ira close, convincing himself that she was safe and alive just as she was him. That goblin that had taken her hostage was a close call- too close. He could still remember the thin, angry red line on her throat where the dagger had drawn blood, a wound that could have been much worse if he’d been seconds slower. What if he hadn’t been able to save her in time? What if that goblin had been a little bit twitchier with that dagger? What if-?
Cyran could not afford to lose her.
“You’re okay.” He whispered, a broken, quiet whisper into her shoulder. Like he still could not bring himself to believe that she was safe and whole, even though the battle was over. The goblins had already begun to retreat upon Socket’s last warning, but that moment seemed small and faraway as Cyran, too scared to let go of Vi’ira, continued to whisper to her in a soft, soothing tone. “You’re okay. It’s over.”
And then Vi’ira pulled away, leaving him cold once more. But she was still healthy and tangible and whole, and that was more important to Cyran than any artifact.
He gently pried the artifact from Vi’ira’s hands while she attempted to describe what sadness was to Socket. Her answer felt heavy, though far more mature than he would have expected her to give. As he inspected the flat, silver object in his hands, Cyran contemplated his answer a moment before responding. “Sadness is like… an old bedfellow. You can try to chase it away, but it will never truly leave you, and you have to learn how to live with that. And then from that sadness you learn how to find moments of peace and joy.”
He hoped the answer was succinct enough.
Cyran frowned as he finally found a button on the side of the flat disk, pressing it. The hinge swung open, revealing- a compass? He turned to Vi’ira, confused. “What is this?” Weren’t they supposed to be looking for the Sol Stone? This didn’t look like it contained anything particularly important in it. But then, as he squinted, holding it up close to inspect for any clues, Vi’ira pointed out to him that something seemed wrong about the direction that the needle was pointing.
“... You’re right.” He commented, thoughtful. “This doesn’t seem to point north.” And there was strange writing on the inside that he couldn’t quite make out…
One thing he did know for certain, though. This peculiar compass was their key to finding the Sol Stone, and if those goblins had coveted it so, then this would only lead them further in their search. Cyran turned to Vi’ira and Socket, clutching the compass close to his chest. “I suppose we should leave this place and find shelter elsewhere for the night. We have much to discuss, and the next step of our journey to plan, if we are going to go down this road.”
He still wasn’t sure if he even wanted to find this stone anymore- but he would watch over Vi’ira for as long as she would allow him, and if that meant going wherever this compass pointed them, then he would follow her to the ends of the earth.
And, as he stood there, as still as a statue, he realized that this was the first time he’d received such affection in a decade.
With trembling arms that seemed to have almost forgotten how to reciprocate a hug, Cyran held Vi’ira close, convincing himself that she was safe and alive just as she was him. That goblin that had taken her hostage was a close call- too close. He could still remember the thin, angry red line on her throat where the dagger had drawn blood, a wound that could have been much worse if he’d been seconds slower. What if he hadn’t been able to save her in time? What if that goblin had been a little bit twitchier with that dagger? What if-?
Cyran could not afford to lose her.
“You’re okay.” He whispered, a broken, quiet whisper into her shoulder. Like he still could not bring himself to believe that she was safe and whole, even though the battle was over. The goblins had already begun to retreat upon Socket’s last warning, but that moment seemed small and faraway as Cyran, too scared to let go of Vi’ira, continued to whisper to her in a soft, soothing tone. “You’re okay. It’s over.”
And then Vi’ira pulled away, leaving him cold once more. But she was still healthy and tangible and whole, and that was more important to Cyran than any artifact.
He gently pried the artifact from Vi’ira’s hands while she attempted to describe what sadness was to Socket. Her answer felt heavy, though far more mature than he would have expected her to give. As he inspected the flat, silver object in his hands, Cyran contemplated his answer a moment before responding. “Sadness is like… an old bedfellow. You can try to chase it away, but it will never truly leave you, and you have to learn how to live with that. And then from that sadness you learn how to find moments of peace and joy.”
He hoped the answer was succinct enough.
Cyran frowned as he finally found a button on the side of the flat disk, pressing it. The hinge swung open, revealing- a compass? He turned to Vi’ira, confused. “What is this?” Weren’t they supposed to be looking for the Sol Stone? This didn’t look like it contained anything particularly important in it. But then, as he squinted, holding it up close to inspect for any clues, Vi’ira pointed out to him that something seemed wrong about the direction that the needle was pointing.
“... You’re right.” He commented, thoughtful. “This doesn’t seem to point north.” And there was strange writing on the inside that he couldn’t quite make out…
One thing he did know for certain, though. This peculiar compass was their key to finding the Sol Stone, and if those goblins had coveted it so, then this would only lead them further in their search. Cyran turned to Vi’ira and Socket, clutching the compass close to his chest. “I suppose we should leave this place and find shelter elsewhere for the night. We have much to discuss, and the next step of our journey to plan, if we are going to go down this road.”
He still wasn’t sure if he even wanted to find this stone anymore- but he would watch over Vi’ira for as long as she would allow him, and if that meant going wherever this compass pointed them, then he would follow her to the ends of the earth.
protect him at all cost. (can’t use discord anymore so making use of this here)
