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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Mar 25, 2023 15:08:33 GMT -5
As they return victorious from the summit of Mount Drakolt to the outpost below, Izzy grins as she struts along, smoking like a chimney. Now that Miss Flamouria has been properly rescued and is able to walk after her ordeal after a night of camping on the mountainside, she and her new friend Quicksilver are due for some relative rest and relaxation.
Behind them, the mountain rumbles ominiously, but Izzy pays it little mind. It's been doing that ever since she got to the Ashlands; it might be due for an eruption but there would be plenty of warning, surely. Lots of smoke and ash, and besides, the people here knew the volcano was tempermental, and what was serious and what wasn't.
The outpost as they get back is bustling with people; mercenaries, travellers, people who lived and worked in the area, all going about their day with all the enthusiasm of a pair of wet socks. No one appeared worried or stressed. If they were, that would have been a cause for panic. Besides, they couldn't possibly be staying that long anyway.
"And we're back! Outpost, sweet outpost!" she give Askr a clap on the shoulder. "Well done us, eh? We should go get our coin, and then I'll buy you a drink. We can chat for a bit, you're not going anywhere any time soon, right?"
Viola looks relieved and exhausted as she looks to Askr and Izzy. "I don't know how to thank you enough... are you sure we're safe?" she looks over her shoulder at the mountain, worried. "I don't know how many of them are still up there and could be coming down."
"Pssshawww," Izzy flaps a hand, flinging smoke and ash every which way. "After that? I'd be surprised if they were still on the mountain at all. Trust me, we can put all that behind us now. We made it down the mountain, all in one piece, surrounded by the toughest folks the Ashlands have to offer, up to and including yours truly," she gestures to herself and Askr as they approach the tavern. "As far as here is concerened, we are safe and sound."
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Apr 16, 2023 1:18:36 GMT -5
It is not an especially common thing for Askr to become so acquainted with strangers.
All of his experiences are defined by his work-- the fragile vestiges of a social life he has are largely defined by the connections he is obligated to form as a mercenary, while missions paint the outline of his day-to-day schedule. He knows, logically, that it is perhaps not ideal to frame his life with the fragments his work leaves him, but it is all he knows-- his life is split into halves, one part defined by waiting for someone who will never come, the other defined by how well he can hold a blade in his hands, how well he can use it to fight.
And so, it is unusual to work beside someone unaffiliated with the Ring of Cinders-- there are times when they work with clients or acquaintances of clients, but for the most part, Askr is accustomed to working beside the same allies over and over again, accustomed to navigating through the patterns of their attacks, accustomed to falling into the backdrop of their conversations. It is... odd, still, to work with once-strangers-- it was strange with Mister Caedes, strange with Mister Zarius or Mister Leandros, strange in the strangest way of all with Nyr--
and yet, Issala Arodre may reign as strangest.
Askr grunts softly as Izzy's hand playfully strikes his shoulder as soon as they step into the outpost, mirth and pride shining in those warm eyes. The way she interacts with him is strange, too-- she smiles and talks and touches him like she's known him for some time, like she considers him a "Friend," all despite only having known him for a short while. Still, odd as it is... it is not bad.
"...no, ma'am, I should not be expected anywhere for a while," he says. "You... should not feel as though you have to purchase anything for me."
He falls silent once more as Izzy chats with Viola, his attention flitting back at the towering shadow of Mount Drakolt behind them-- their conversation drifts off into the backdrop of sound as he watches smoke curl from the volcano's infernal mouth, billowing in thick clouds up into the scarlet sky. There is something... strange about it, indistinguishably different from usual, and yet... he cannot place precisely what.
Perhaps he is imagining it.
"...yes, Miss Flamouria, you should be... quite safe," he says monotonously, slowly tearing his gaze away from the volcano as they near the door. "This place is well-fortified. All should be well."
...and yet...
Something still does not seem quite right.
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Apr 25, 2023 0:04:13 GMT -5
"Ayyy, that's what I like to hear, Quicksilver!" Izzy grins again, practically jubilant as Askr mentions they have nowhere else to be. She opens the door to the tavern as she looks to Flamouria, eyes sparkling. She bows with another flourish, gallantly offering Askr and Miss Flamouria their entrance first into the tavern proper. Safe and sound, just like she said.
And then, the world ends.
At least, thats what it sounds like. What it feels like. There's an explosion from beneath the ground so loud that it defies definitions of sound. The blast by itself throws anyone standing to the ground. No one in the town can see it at the moment, but the volcano, all that surrounds it, just ripped in half. Pyroclastic flow sweeps down the other side of the mountain, away from them, but worse yet is the earth shattering, rumble sundering beneath their feet as though something beneath was ripping it in twain. The earth bends and folds, fabric, suddenly, rather than stone, as the sky swells with the fluttering embers and thick, heavy smoke from the eruption.
The smoke was growing thicker, heavier, with each second's pass, but there was brilliance-- fire. Deadwood brush and trees set alight just by the sweltering, sudden heat of the fissures in the ground that opened, fresh wounds seeping lethal molten blood that had begun to spread across the ground.
All this, in just a matter of seconds.
The rumbling continued as Izzy picked herself up, giving her head a shake, ears ringing and blood trickling from her ears. Shell-shocked, she lifts her bleary eyes to the world that had turned upside down in an instant. One moment, she was standing at the threshold of the tavern-- the next, she was in hell.
Fei. Where was Fei?
Zeinav, stupid.
Fuck, yeah, okay, right... what about... the other one. Branches, eyes, deadpan stare--
"Quicksilver!" Izzy calls out, waving the growing cloud smoke off of her as she staggers to her feet. Gods, she can barely hear herself. Angrily, she snaps her fingers on either side of her head, testing her hearing-- shot, for the moment. Nothing but the infuriating ring. She looks for her new, small and pale friend, Flamouria, anyone. She touches a finger to her ear, casting a spell[1], messaging Askr to find them since she could not hear. "My hearing is shot, sorry for the intrusion. Where are you? You okay?"
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Jun 22, 2023 20:40:48 GMT -5
Askr’s core memories are simple things. He remembers the gentle glow of ember-kissed stone studded with amber flame, the scarlet halo of dim light cast around the room that served as his mother’s laboratory– he remembers her form retreating up the path concealed by charred foliage, silver hair and emerald eyes and a quiet promise still hanging in the air. He remembers waiting, more than anything– he remembers noise like thunder, the low, hungry roar of Mount Drakolt reverberating through the earth, reaching far down enough that even he could hear it somewhere in the depths of Devil’s Ridge. He still does not know how long he languished down there, but it was long enough that he still knows the hunger pangs of the mountain better than he’ll ever know another person’s heartbeat. It is familiar, then, when the earth gives way beneath his feet– ember-kissed stone cracking like porcelain, flame burbling to life in the crevices it leaves behind, the mountain’s desperate hunger tearing its mother earth apart. The difference is the sky. He can see the sky, now– red, dark, angry, barely visible beneath its veil of smoke and ash and embers, hiding away behind the tapestry it’s sewn. It is all he can see. Flame, smoke, ash. And he is alone. The collapsing of the earth had been quick about knocking him to the ground, any stability he could cling to having faded with the tilting of stone. For a moment, all Askr can do is stare up at the sky, up at the funeral shroud of smoke– but the heat sings loud beneath his body, a lyrical plea for him to move, to get up, to find his way back. And so he stumbles up, trying to find any sense of stability, planting his feet on the ground as firmly as they’re willing to be. He blinks for a while, trying to peer through the smoke for a flash of white skin and scarlet hair– then there’s a voice in his ear– no, his skull, asking to know if he’s okay. Is he? “...Miss Issala,” he begins quietly, channeling magic of the same sort to answer. “I… am in one piece. Are you? I cannot see through the smoke. I don't think I'm far from where we started.” [1]
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Jul 3, 2023 22:25:38 GMT -5
Izzy coughs hard into her fist, yanking the collar of her shirt up over her mouth so she can fucking breathe. Askr's voice is a relief to hear, even if it is within the confines of her skull, rather than her deafened ears. Gods, she hoped that was temporary. "I'm intact. I think."[1] she wasn't about to check right this second. If she was bleeding out, better not to know until the adrenaline wore off. She wasn't going to make it out of here if she thought too hard about any pain she may or may not be in. At the very least, she had all her limbs. "I was right by the damn tavern, I'm still next to it. Sssshhit how do I..."The ground heaves again, and Izzy stumbles, skinning her knees as she slides across jagged, red-hot bits of rock. Pulling herself back to her feet, she curses under her breath. There really isn't much time to plan or think-- putting the fellblood squarely out of her element. She needed a source to find Askr with that was not her voice, and light was a finnicky thing at best--- but maybe... she slaps herself all over for her cigar, realizing she must have dropped her already lit one when she was thrown in the initial explosion. Grumbling-- stupid volcano-- she pulls a second cigar from the inner pocket of her shirt, and quickly lights the end, not to a smolder, but a flame, turning her precious, precious cigar into a mini torch. She waves it erratically through the smoke-- a sight Askr might be able to see as she moves forward through it, to find them at last.
She's openly relieved once she sees them, not giving them too close a once over just yet-- the ground is cracking with all this shifting, building pressure. Looking down at Askr, she frantically twirls her index finger up by her head-- a universal gesture for we gotta fuckin' go. But go where? Off to the side, someone else staggers through the smoke; Viola, the person that they rescued, covered in burns and torched clothes that look as though they were put out in a hurry. She starts to collapse in front of Izzy and Askr, and she knows, though she cannot hear just yet, that there are other people in this settlement too. It would be so easy to say 'fuck 'em' and take off. Save her own skin. She was good at that. But she had reained stil for Askr. And, frankly, Izzy was unsure if she could get off the mountain without her new friend.
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Jul 23, 2023 20:04:37 GMT -5
A quieted flood of relief washes over Askr as soon as Miss Issala confirms she is intact– theoretically, at least. To be theoretically intact does seem leagues better than being definitely not at all intact, and she is still capable of communication, which means she is not dead. Being not dead is… good. That is the best condition one can expect in these circumstances.
He pulls his hood to the side, lifting it up to his nose and mouth to at least offer brief respite from the smoke flooding his senses– if his airways are clear, then so too is his focus. He gives himself a moment to recover from the relentless shift in atmosphere, taking short breaths through the thick fabric of his hood before lifting his head and peering through the heavy veil as well as he can manage. It isn’t easy, of course– the smoke is thick and all-consuming, hiding even the outlines of things and people from view, but he will not be deterred.
After a moment or two more, he sets his hand against the hilt of his sword, squeezing the metal and leather wrappings for some semblance of reassurance, and starts walking blindly through the haze, each step slow, short, and careful. It is difficult to be cautious when he can hardly see in front of him, but he does his best, feeling out the area before him before moving forward.
He does not believe he has been walking for very long by the time a dim orange glow catches his eye– he immediately freezes in place in response, ready to draw his blade in case it proves to be a threat, but after a few tense seconds, Miss Issala Arodre’s familiar bone-white skin and flame-red hair becomes visible alongside that little flicker, and some of the unease slips away from his shoulders.
As she gestures that they need to leave, need to search for refuge, Askr merely nods, quickly shuffling forward until he stands beside her. He opens his mouth to speak before remembering what Issala had said earlier– that her hearing was shot. And so he pauses for a moment before drawing upon that inherent magic once more, his voice as soft as he can make it through projection alone.
“We need to be careful. There are gaps in the earth, and the fire is more inescapable than usual. I do not believe we should be hasty– walk slowly.”
To emphasize his point, Askr lightly takes hold of Izzy’s hand and starts to gently lead her along, his footfalls slow and careful, his gaze never wandering from the taller woman’s face as he walks backwards into that haze of smoke.
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Aug 11, 2023 1:41:37 GMT -5
Izzy's brow furrows slightly, puzzled for a moment by this sudden, focused confidence. Askr hadn't ever appeared uncertain or unsure, except perhaps by his mission partner's antics and general chaos, but they had been a little distant, somewhat dubious (understandable) and, certainly, concerned. At least mildly so.
It was neither the time nor the place to be treated with such gentility-- more to the point, she was not the correct person to be treated such a way, if there even was a correct person at all. But as Askr gently takes her by the hand, guided by them as they carefully start walking backwards, their gold eyes trained on her face, in the midst of the most violent eruption recent memory in Charon, Izzy cannot help but feel a brush of serenity. For once, she finds herself speechless.
The world is quite literally on fire around them, and this... Askr, this Quicksilver, is walking her through it as though they care about the blood trickling from her ears and nose, the chip in one of her horns, as if she were someone who deserved such gentle assurance, such pure kindness. Wordlessly, she follows suit, allowing Askr to lead her along and carefully walk, no matter how worried about lava spilling onto her legs and killing her instantly and horribly she might be.
It is odd; led along by Quicksilver, Izzy's height and horns and vibrant hair, features that typically repulsed others-- or at least, kept them at arms' length-- becomes something of a beacon. As Askr calmly walks, leading Izzy through the smoke by her hand, they attract survivors. Viola, who had stumbled near when Askr and Izzy reunited, wordlessly joined her rescuers once more. More survivors followed suit, to follow the Askr Train away from danger. And she was the beacon by which they followed.
Izzy supposed there must be a first for everything.
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Aug 28, 2023 18:04:48 GMT -5
Askr does not take his eyes off of Issala’s face for so much as a moment. His steps backward are careful, meticulous, each one slowly sliding back against the heated earth, trying to ensure that the ground does not crumble like dust beneath him, that it is safe to let his foot fall there, that there is actually any ground to stand upon. It is a slow process, navigating blindly backwards, having to gamble with whether or not there is a solid place to step, but something deep down urges him not to look away from Izzy’s face, to keep his own gaze unwaveringly locked upon her own, even if he cannot identify quite what it is that tells him to do such a thing. Even so, he listens to it– he gently squeezes her partially-gloved hand, guiding her, not urging, only half-aware of the swathes of people following behind them both as he steps back and leads them all through the smoke, through the phantom of flame, trusting that his instincts and that strange Something to lead him through it all. He lets it lead him down, down, down, backwards down the gentle slope of the mountain until the ground starts to level out just so, until the heat ebbs away like the tides of the Crescent Coast, until the smoke lightens just so, a little less oppressive than it had been. It is only in that moment he lets himself look around, lets himself notice the people behind Izzy– the researcher they’d recovered, other strangers from the outpost, some strange and implaceable feeling flashing across their weary faces. Askr does not question it. He just looks back to Izzy. “Do you think you can hear me, now? I think you need some medical attention. So do some other people here. We should… figure out a way to get somewhere more populated after everyone is settled.” [1]
He steps a little closer, then-- he cannot exactly reach her ear, considering the difference in their height, but he can see the way blood trickles down from it, mirrored in the other, in her nose. He hums quietly, thinking, before reaching into one of his pockets for a slightly worn cloth.
"This is... for cleaning swords, but it is clean enough. It should help with the blood."
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Sept 16, 2023 16:37:54 GMT -5
The experience of being led this way, so carefully and so diligently, is damn near surreal. Izzy scarcely knows what to think-- which is a good thing, because she can't really hear at the moment either, and the chaos around her would give her too many thoughts, which would distract her from this rather singular moment. The question of 'why' is a resonant one within her mind, but there's no path her gerbil-wheel of a mind can even begin trying to pursue in this moment. Why was he leading her? What was he doing, staring at nothing but her, as though trying to keep her attention? Why was he walking backwards? Why was he so calm? All important questions, but it did not change the fact that it was happening and the fact that Izzy could not even begin to voice such queries.
Or, maybe it's the concussion.
In either case, Izzy drifts down the mountainside with Askr's careful guidance, maintaining eye-contact for the whole of the journey, however long it takes. Which, she isn't sure about-- it's hard to tell tie in the Ashlands at the best of times, and especially now, with the sky blotted with plumes of black death, it is ever harder.
It isn't until he finally stops that Izzy seems to be drawn from her stupor. She blinks, and looks around them-- at the survivors who fled down the mountain from the destroyed outpost, playing a very life or death game of "follow-the-leader". She looks back to Askr, a little bewildered, almost pensive. "How did you do that?" she mutters.
She takes the cloth as he offers it, touching it to the crusted blood in her nostrils and the dried rivers under her ears. She snaps her fingers on either side of her head again, and finds the shell-shock has worn off somewhat. "Still ringing, but at least I can hear my own dulcet tones now, thank goodness." she clicks her tongue, casting her gaze around the group with a furrowe brow. "Yeah, probably should-- Hey, wait a sec, uh, what about you? You okay?" She looks him over, frowning. He was covered in dirt and ash, but she couldn't see any injuries outright.
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Sept 18, 2023 20:39:23 GMT -5
Miss Issala seems… confused.
Askr is not entirely sure as to what she seems so confused by, but there’s something like bewilderment in the tone of her voice as she murmurs beneath her breath, flame-red brows furrowed just slightly as she looks down at him. At least, he thinks it is bewilderment– Izzy is not someone he has seen felled by things like chaos or confusion, all too capable of delivering them to others, instead. He has not known her very long, but he knows enough about her to know that she is likely not used to being caught off guard. She is a woman of great confidence and greater oddity; whatever has caused her such confusion must be… a strange thing indeed.
“Do… what?” he asks, tilting his head, a quiet inquisitiveness shining in his eyes. If she is referring to leading her away from the chaos of the earthquake and fires, then… well, he had simply followed his instincts, done what felt natural. There had hardly been any thought put into it at all. “You are the one who said we had to go. So… we went.”
He says it matter-of-factly, simply, as though it is the most obvious thing in the world, and really, it is– the situation had turned for the worst, danger biting at their heels, threatening to take them and every stranger at the outpost with them, and so they had left. And now they have left, and their focus should turn elsewhere– towards getting medical attention for Izzy, towards ascertaining that the other people who had followed after them are also cared for, towards making sure everyone gets to where they need to be. It is simple– not easy, but it is quite simple.
“Mm? I am… unharmed, I think,” Askr says casually, giving himself a cursory glance-over. Sure, there are some scuffs and bruises, traces of burns, but they will fade– they are not worth dwelling on. “My armor serves its purpose. We should get you settled, and… start sending people toward further safety. Yes?”
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Post by Issala 'Izzy' Arodre on Oct 1, 2023 13:58:35 GMT -5
"Ah," Izzy blinks a couple of times, still getting her bearings right. There were things to be done; what good was trying to sus out what had just happened, right now? Should probably get her head checked first anyway. Was she concussed? It was hard to tell. "It's fine, never mind, all good, it's cool, cool, cool, coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool," she prattles this for a few seconds as they start taking in the camp, finding a place where they could get some healing.
"Glad you're alright, though," Izzy adds, looking side-long at Askr a little awkwardly. The investigative part of her mind very much wanted to know what that had been about... but one thing at a time. Still, perhaps it bore some addressing. The whole of the situation had been quite "And, ah. Thanks for getting us all out of there. It-- you really kept your cool through that." she bite down on the end of the sentence to keep herself from rambling. Restless, she scrubs behind her ear, flaking off some of the dried blood.
Weird.
"But, yeah, uh, lets do that. Thing. Yep. Oh look a healer!" she promptly throws herself onto the unoccupied crate in front of someone wearing robes (no indication if they were actually a healer and throws her arm open wide for them to see the full of her terrifying visage. "I'm fucked up!"
Regardless of her brazenness, it isn't long before she is looked over, patched up, and given a conditional release. No more shenanigans, and no more smoking for at least two weeks to help prevent any extra brain swelling. Which was horrible and Izzy would be acting against her doctors advice almost immediately, but the healer was quiet, efficient, and no-nonsense, so at least she would not be indicating anything contrary in their presence.
Testing out her hearing again with a couple of snaps of her fingers, she turns to find Askr. "Welp. That's enough of that. Should we get the others moving outta here, then?"
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Post by Askr Mimameith on Jan 6, 2024 18:45:05 GMT -5
Miss Issala’s babbling is… a bit troubling. Askr tilts his head as she blinks, brows furrowed, repeating the same sentiments over and over again as she glances around the camp, seemingly drinking it all in. She does not seem to be critically injured, at least not outwardly, but Askr has learned that mortal forms are deceptively fragile– there are layers to them, flesh and blood and bone, nerves and ligaments, a thousand little inner workings that the eye cannot catch. One failure can lead to a dozen. Izzy could be severely hurt and it could just not be outwardly apparent, and he needs to be mindful of that– it is important that he does not fail her. He gives a short nod as Izzy voices her own gladness that he is alright, not taking his eyes off of the taller woman. “I am. And if I am not, it will pass.”He blinks in quiet surprise when Izzy offers her thanks to him, as if he has done something extraordinary– it is puzzling to be regarded that way. All he did was follow what must have been instinct, do what he had to to get her and everyone else out of the veil of ash and fire and to whatever refuge they could find; he does not think that is anything special. It is merely practical. As far as he knows, survival is the first instinct of all living things; life is what even the basest of creatures chase after, from the worms veiled away in the dirt to the monsters prowling in the dark. All they do is done in the name of seeing another day. This is no different. This is for the sake of another day. He has done nothing special, nothing worthy of gratitude– he has merely fallen into the cycle of the land. That is all. Askr watches blankly as Izzy tosses herself onto a crate, announcing that she’s injured to the first person who’ll listen, only to quickly be assessed and patched up as thoroughly as she can be for the time being. Askr knows little of medicinal goings-on, but he does know that it is best not to interrupt an assessment while it is happening, so he sits politely off to the side until Izzy is given the last of her advice and she sees fit to come find him once again. “...Continuing out of here sounds ideal,” he says quietly, glancing back over his shoulder at the state of the camp. It’s not in the same state of chaos from earlier, but there’s an unease settling in the air that even he can sense. He does not know what it is, but there is something not quite right in the land, in the people, in the world– and Askr isn’t quite sure he wants to linger here for very long. “...let’s go, Miss Issala.”He stands, then, staring back over his shoulder for a moment longer before taking a step forward onto the worn path, feeling the unease of the earth that shaped him settling into his ash-born bones. He knows little of the world, but he knows the makings of disaster, the breath of loss, and he can feel it down his neck. He doesn’t want to feel it for much longer.
Something tells him that isn't an option.
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