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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 19, 2023 20:28:34 GMT -5
Eyes still burning from hastily wiped tears, Astrid manifests in the middle of Darkveil. A few people in the immediate area startle at her sudden, magical appearance. Looking around to get her bearings, she quickly stashes the empty bottle of Elsewhere Juice in her bag. Without the looming volcano, it’s a bit more difficult to tell where things are in relation to each other. Luckily, the skies have largely cleared, and the amount of ash in the air is more an annoyance than a hazard.
There’s no time to think about the consequences of leaving Cyran in the swamp or knowing what she now knows. Maybe it’s the dwarven blood in Astrid’s veins, but something tells her to keep going. This time it’s different than when she ran away from Sol City after the situation with Vikram. It isn’t about pushing things down, it’s about figuring out a way to fix it because there has to be something that she or anyone else she knows can do about this. What’s the benefit in having power or renown or influence if you can’t use it to help people and keep them from hurting?
Still, she can’t help feeling a twinge of anger mixed into the sadness. Is she angry that she feels so upset? Or is she angry that no one told her sooner? Just because she felt close to Zarius doesn’t mean he or anyone in his family owes her anything. But she owes them. She wouldn’t be where she is without Zarius, so she can’t sit idly by while they try to figure things out. This is less dwarven stubbornness and more like…a Stormstone avalanche. No stopping it now.
Heading straight for the broken wreckage of the Rookery, Astrid takes to the underground tunnels, fully expecting them to be laden with traps but not caring. Instead, she spreads her wings[1] and leaps into the air then lightning crackles across her form[2] as she beelines toward the underground entrance to the warehouse that she’s been to a few times at this point. Things explode behind her, but she’s too fast to be caught in the wake and she flies full speed ahead toward waiting guards that are on high alert after the chaos she caused only moments ago.
“Move aside, boys, I ain’t got time fer yer nonsense today!” Astrid cries as she rockets toward the door as a living bolt of lightning. The great amount of practice in this form shows with how effortlessly she passes through the solid material[3] and emerges in a familiar space. With a quick glance around, she’s off, zipping through the tunnels to the manor in a blur of light.[4] The wards make it difficult to keep her sense of direction, so rather than waste time wandering, Astrid forces herself ahead like a bull in a china shop, pushing through solid walls until finally she arrives somewhere in the manor.
It’s hard to get her bearing, so she decides to just start looking. Tapping her gauntlet on her buckler, she quickly identifies where people of the manor are through echolocation.[5] If only she had X-ray vision to see who they are. Instead Astrid dashes through wall after wall until she finds the person she’s looking for: Anselm.
“Mister Anselm!!” Astrid shouts, landing on the floor a few feet away and dissipating the lightning surrounding her. Bits of mud still stuck to her boots slake off onto the carpet. Despite the lightning, her legs and cape are still damp.
Eyes and nose still red from crying, she looks him dead in the eyes with an unwavering expression. “I need ta talk ta ya about Zarius.”
1. Bat Wings 2. Full elemental manifestation - lightning 3. Full elemental manifestation - phase through solids 4. Bullet Dash 5. Bat Wings - Echolocation
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Dec 19, 2023 21:30:26 GMT -5
The guards are very much on high alert with the sound of explosions echoing down the tunnel in the wake of Astrid's destruction. There probably were a flurry of crossbow's fired, but Astrid's entrance and exit were so quicky the grunts didn't really stand much of a chance of hitting their mark.
There's a squeal from one of the rooms as Astrid nyooms through it. Obviously, not all the rooms are unoccupied. Almost as if people live in the home and Astrid is totally not invading it.
As Astrid appears in the room of her target and shouts, she hears the click of a crossbow being loaded shortly before she stares down the silver glint of a bolt pointed at her face.
Luckily it only takes a moment for Anselm to recognize her and he lets out an irritated sigh.
"Miss Astrid."
The door suddenly swings open, but no one appears to be standing in the threshold. The fellblood raises his hand towards the door. "I am fine," he reassures what must be an invisible guard. There's a moment of silent tension before the door slowly closes.
He puts down the crossbow back under his desk. "Your trespassing has gotten out of-"
He pauses as he notices her expression, the redness around her eyes, and the now muddy state of the expensive rug on the floor. Taking a slow breath, he steps behind his desk and takes a seat while gesturing for Astrid to take a seat if she wants. He folds his hands in front of him, eyes lingering on the surface of the desk for just a little too long before he meets her gaze again.
"As I told you before, he is busy. If this is an emergency I will do my best to assist you. I would, however, appreciate a little forewarning before you just break into my home. My family would appreciate it as well."
The man looks...more tired than Astrid would remember, as if sleeping has not been easy for quite some time.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 20, 2023 18:46:52 GMT -5
Facing down a crossbow bolt doesn’t faze the girl. It could fire at her for all she cares, so she doesn’t waver, even when the door is thrown open by an invisible hand. “Sorry,” Astrid says, her determination overwriting the tone of apology in her voice. “Ain’t like I know where the front door is so I could just go knock on it.” Though, thinking about it, she probably could’ve come up through the roof and flown to the front door… Hindsight and all that.
Despite her own state, Astrid notices the hesitance in Anselm’s movements, the way he looks a bit more tired. It’s hard to see on a charcoal-skinned Fellblood, but it’s not impossible to notice. Astrid’s expression softens somewhat seeing him in such an unusual state. If what Cyran said is true, then her forcefulness can’t be helping him either. “I–” Her eyes drop to the floor while she searches for words, and she notices the wet mud on the carpet. “Um…Sorry, I’ll pay fer the cleanin’ on that…”
Touching the wolf amulet around her neck, her muddy armor disappears in a blink,[1] taking most of the mud with it. Sure, there’s still some on her pants and boots, but it’s at least not held in like metal bowls strapped to her body. She’ll have to remember to put it back on when she’s outdoors. Finally, Astrid sits down, but she doesn’t settle back in the chair, mostly sitting on the edge so her feet aren’t hanging loosely.
A long moment of silence hangs between them before Astrid finds her words, and they come out quietly. “I-I know what happened ta Zarius,” she says. Hard as she tries to keep herself steady, saying it just makes the hurt well up again. “A-An’ I’m sorry. I wish I knew before, but it weren't none of my business... But I know now, so I wanna help. There’s gotta be somethin’ we can do.”
1. Armor storing amulet
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Dec 20, 2023 20:07:18 GMT -5
"There is a reason you do not know where the front door is."
Anselm watches Astrid closely from over his interlaced fingers. It isn't hard to guess what she's here about. The problem is more what exactly she thinks she knows, who is going around spreading the news, and how long it will be before their charade is exposed for the desperate lie that it is.
The past few months have been hard on their family. They never really got a chance to grieve with the chaos caused by Vulcadreaus. Then the Capitol had to go and send the Legion of the Black Sun to their now very sunny shores. The armed militia's presence has all of Darkveil on edge, or at least those who haven't been hunted down and dragged out into the open by the Stablemen.
It's only thanks to Caedes that they have managed to keep the locals from noticing Zarius' absence. Anselm regrettably managed to convince the changeling to make a few appearances in the guise of Zarius just to squash any rumors that would connect their family to the cultists. It's worked so far, but it's not a solution anyone has felt good about.
Desperate times call for desperate measures...though all the effort will hardly matter if those not from Darkveil notice that Zarius hasn't made any contact with them in months. The act would only hold up for so long, though Anselm hadn't really expected Astrid to be the one to confront them first. He had been preparing to face down the Witch of Moonglade or a tiny bird with a gun. How his son acquired such an odd list of acquaintances is beyond his understanding.
His body tenses as Astrid finally breaks the silence between them. He knew that was coming, but it hardly made the words sting any less.
"If there was anything to be done, we would be doing it. If we wanted any help, we would have asked."
He sighs and his normally sharp gaze dulled by weariness lingers on the edge of the desk.
"I am sorry for deceiving you, but we are in a precarious position right now. All of Darkveil is. There may be time to grieve in the future...that time is not now."
As awful as it is, they do not have the luxury of taking time to mourn the loss. With all the Ashen Fathers now under suspicion of being associated with the cult of the Ashen Fathers, which is just a convenient excuse for the Count and the monarchy to justify mobilizing the Legion of the Black Sun, they cannot appear vulnerable in any capacity lest they be hauled off to prison or executed for their criminal activity. Their warded walls can only provide so much protection.
While they have all agreed to act as if nothing is wrong, such a rouse is not something they can ask others to do as well. Even if they could get all of Zarius' allies on board, there's no guarantee that the Stablemen won't grow suspicious over time, especially if Zarius' guild participation is reviewed and his inactivity is found to align with the events in Darkveil.
Aselm continues. "What I would ask of you is not something I think you are willing to do. Things are more complicated than they may seem, and the more people who know the truth or think they know the truth the more complicated things become. If I could ask one thing of you, it would be to tell me who told you about that day."
He of course has his suspicions. Only their family, employees, Askr, Caedes, and Cyran knew exactly what happened. Askr and Caedes wouldn't put their family in danger by spreading the news, and all the employees swore to silence so that only leaves that cowardly elf as a loose end.
Anselm has a lot he could say about Cyran. The hunter is certainly on shaky ground and has a lot to answer for. A lot of time has already passed with no word or any attempts at reaching out. Caedes and Eameia have taken in particularly hard. Needless to say, it has only soured the family's relationship with the Specter further, especially since they continue to expend resources on protecting Shade's Valley in his absence.
If Astrid learned of Zarius' demise from Cyran, that was yet another mark in Anselm's book against the elf. Was blabbing about Zarius' death intentionally done to hurt their family further? He couldn't say, but the longer Cyran avoids returning the Darkveil, the more it seems that way. His actions, and inaction, have not done him any favors in Anselm's eyes.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 20, 2023 20:50:37 GMT -5
Astrid knows that Zarius and his family are a secretive bunch. Bringing her and Blue into their home at any point might have been a mistake which led to this surprising habit of breaking and entering that the half-dwarf has. Still, she has no idea the true scope of why they keep things so secretive. If Astrid had the will to be snarky, she might be, but this… Well, it really isn’t the place.
Anselm’s insistence that they would have asked for help does not go past her though. As far as she’s concerned, they’re a secretive bunch and a stubborn one. Astrid’s dealt with dwarves her whole life and knows exactly how stubborn people behave. Just because they don’t want help doesn’t mean they don’t need it. She’s no different.
“Even if ya don’t want ta ask fer help, I’m offerin’ it,” she says firmly, meeting Anselm’s eyes finally. “No one should have ta push hurt down just ta look okay on the outside... Pretendin’ ain’t good fer ya.” Astrid takes a deep breath, sitting upright in the chair and swallowing the fact that she wants to cry over the loss of Zarius too. If his family hasn’t had a chance to, then what right does she have to cry about him first?
“I owe Zarius fer helpin’ me off the streets. If there’s a way ta get him back, then I wanna help find it. An’ I don’t have ta be… I dunno, sneaky?” That’s the best offer she can make considering she does not know the extent of what his family is or what they do. “If it needs ta be a secret, then I’ll keep it, but there’s lots I can do ta try ta help, so I wanna.”
A frown crosses her face as she wonders what Anselm would ask her to do. For him to ask who told her makes her think he might already have an idea. She opens her mouth to say who, then she closes it with her brow furrowing deep over her eyes. If she claims she figured it out, he’ll doubt her. It’s been weeks since Vulcadreaus, which means that a lot of time has passed for her to figure it out, and she didn’t press before.
Well, there probably aren’t a lot of people who know outside of the family, huh? “Um… I heard it from Cyran, but he didn’t wanna tell me. It’s… It’s my fault he did. I thought I knew what was goin’ on, but…” Astrid takes another shuddering breath. “I weren’t close at all…”
He’s probably fine back in the swamp. The hydra is dead. No issues. She’ll just go back and check on him later!
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Dec 23, 2023 13:58:29 GMT -5
Yeah...the whole bringing Astrid to the home thing is definitely a decision that his son made that Anselm is not appreciating very much at this point. He's doing his best to remain calm and polite, despite how much he wants to just throw her out and be done with the charade.
Still, he has his limits, and Astrid is pushing the boundaries of his patience.
"Even if you are offering to help, we do not have to accept," he shoots back at her with a little more edge in his voice.
He catches himself and takes a long breath in through his nose. "I appreciate your optimism. I do. And I appreciate your desire to help, but we will not entertain such wishful thinking. People do not just come back to life with no strings attached."
How many times has he had to remind himself of that and said the same to Eameia as she's pulled their home library apart in search of any necromantic texts they may have? Enough times for the words to feel as if he's just reciting a rehearsed line. Though it never comes out quite natural or easy to utter no matter how many times he has to say it.
"My son carried many burdens in his short life, and these are the consequences we have to face for ladening him with more than he could carry. It is painful, and we all have many regrets that we will simply have to live with, but I do not want to worsen the pain my family is suffering with empty promises."
In his years, he's heard plenty of horror stories of resurrections gone wrong, and he's hardly willing to trust just anyone with such a risky procedure. The last thing that he would want is for his son to become a thrall to some necromancer or owe a life debt to someone who could turn on them later.
"Miss Astrid, it is important that news of this does not circulate. There are people who would use such information to harm my family. We cannot afford to act rashly."
He hopes that Astrid can understand without requiring more details. The less she knows the better, but children, especially those as bright as Astrid, have a habit of not being satisfied with vague answers.
As Astrid stumbles over her words, Anselm's expression hardens as she utters Cyran's name. His nails dig into his skin for a moment before he carefully speaks in as measured a tone as he can despite the rage burning inside him.
"And where is Master Cyran?"
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 25, 2023 16:16:27 GMT -5
Such a sharp tone from Anselm cuts through Astrid’s defenses. Her brave facade falters, and for a moment, she’s just a kid who’s fighting back the pain of losing someone close to her again. Her determined expression fades away in such a way that she pulls her eyes away from Anselm’s while tears burn at them again. She wants to help. She has no idea how to help or where to start, but she wants to. She’s not powerless. She can’t be powerless to do anything in this situation. She just…can’t be.
But maybe she is. Maybe he’s right. Maybe she should keep her nose out of their business because it was never her place to put her nose in it in the first place.
But maybe the promises aren’t empty either. If Vulcadreaus is the god of rebirth and Zarius died right when he appeared, then maybe Zarius can be brought back. The world is teeming with magic and things beyond anyone’s understanding. So, there has to be a way, right?
So maybe it’s both. Maybe she’s powerless to fix it, but someone or something out there has to be able to. No one said the strings have to be attached to Zarius’ family. No one said they have to be involved in the fixing of things either. Zarius helped Astrid kickstart her life, so there’s no reason she can’t help him get his back.
Finally, Astrid meets Anselm’s eyes again. Zarius is secretive, he always has been, and the way he goes about things are meticulous and often defy her limited understanding. But with what little experience she has seeing him interact with his family, it’s obvious to her that they’re the most important people in the world to him. She can relate. Anselm’s request reminds her of Veliky’s stern statement that no one should know where her home is – something she mostly blatantly disregarded because she can protect her home. But this family is not her home, and she can’t protect them from things she doesn’t know about.
So she nods once in affirmative. “I won’t tell anyone,” Astrid says. If she brought harm to his family, Zarius might come back from the dead on his own just to kick her ass. Well, that’d be one way to get him back, but that’s certainly the worst way to go about things.
Then, she senses an obvious shift in Anselm, from the irritability she caused to something more sinister, more genuinely angry, at the mention of Cyran’s name. Her brow furrows as she replays what she knows in her mind. Cyran was Zarius’ friend, wasn’t he? And he was truly upset by what happened to Zarius. But Anselm is angry, which… if he knows that Cyran dealt the final blow, then he has every right to be, but… Did Cyran not tell Zarius’ family what happened? Did Caedes?? Is everyone in the dark? She hardly has all the pieces herself, but there’s no way she has more than the family.
Now that she thinks about it, Del and Cyran were extremely skittish when she and Cypress burst into their office. And they’ve left Darkveil, left the orphanage in someone else’s hands. Why would Cyran and Del do that? Unless…
“Um… Mister Anselm, have ya not… talked ta him since…?”
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Dec 25, 2023 19:28:09 GMT -5
"Thank you."
Anselm's expression of appreciation for Astrid's reassurance of her silence is curt. It's unclear if he actually believes she will keep her word, but there is no reason to dwell on the matter any further when there are more important things to discuss.
His eyes stay locked on Astrid as he brow furrows and she takes a minute to think. The young adventurer has already confirmed that she has recently been in contact with the runaway hunter, so she should at least be able to tell him where she last saw him. He could care less that Cyran didn't want to say anything about it, the fact is that he did say something. He's a loose string they can't trust to keep his mouth shut any longer.
When Astrid does speak, she doesn't answer the question she was asked. Anselm resists letting a scowl cross his face. None of this situation is Astrid's fault, despite any guilt or sense of responsibility she claims to have. She wasn't there when Cyran decided to end Zarius' life. And as far as he's aware, she wasn't there when Cyran decided the best course of action after everything that happened was to run and hide.
"No. I have never even met the man and the coward abandoned Darkveil shortly afterward without saying a word to any of us."
He pauses, catching that his personal resentment is starting to seep through into his words. He closes his eyes and recomposes himself for Astrid's sake. She was not the one deserving of his anger at his family's suffering.
"You will have to forgive me. My son and daughter trusted Master Cyran. Seeing this situation as anything less than a betrayal of that trust grows more difficult the more time passes without any explanation on his part."
Though, an explanation is hardly all Anselm thinks Cyran owes them. Words wouldn't be enough for him, not after what Caedes relayed to them, not after Cyran decided to run instead of stay, not after seeing how his daughter broke from losing her brother and someone she considered a close friend in the same night.
If the Ashen Father had his way, he would have a bounty out on the Specter's head. He wouldn't even be opposed to holding the entirety of the Shade's Valley under lock and key until the elf surrendered himself. But a few words penned on a sealed letter and the gentle hand of his wife stopped him from pursuing such drastic measures. As much as he wants to rain hell down on Cyran, he's not willing to go against his family's wishes under these circumstances.
Still, letting this drag on as it is helps no one, and letting Cyran sabotage their efforts to keep Zarius' death covered up only puts them in danger.
"We have tried to reach out with no success. Even Master Cyran's apprentices will not speak to us, though I suspect that is because they do not know the truth of the situation."
His eyes open and he looks at Astrid once more.
"You said you wanted to help. So I will ask again, where is Master Cyran?"
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 25, 2023 20:38:48 GMT -5
The furrow on Astrid’s brow grows deeper, casting a shadow over her eyes while she tries to parse things together. Not only is Cyran responsible for Zarius’ death and, from what she can tell, feels incredibly guilty about it, but he hasn’t spoken to them since it happened? That doesn’t make sense. Why would he be avoiding them if he took the only actions that could be taken? Did Cyran leave something out? That’s entirely possible that he would after she pushed him to spill the secrets he really didn’t want to spill, but still, she doesn’t have a reason to doubt that he’s guilty. Of course, Cyran could just be a really good actor, but he never seemed the type to take advantage of someone, so why would he lie about this?
From the sound of it and what little show knows, Cyran was a friend of their family. He was Zarius’ friend. To be involved in his death and not tell them to their faces what happened… Why would he avoid them? Maybe there’s some other consequence that isn’t obvious to Astrid. Maybe he’s worried about his or Del’s safety, or maybe he’s worried about the safety of the kids at the orphanage. But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he leave the kids behind in that case? Something else has to be going on here.
“No… No, I don’t think anyone at the orphanage knows nothin’,” she says quietly in agreement. Cypress would have mentioned it she thinks, and the atmosphere there would be completely different. And what’s more, Anselm or someone working for him has been to the orphanage to look for information from the sound of it, which means that they haven’t done anything to hurt anyone there because things would be even more different.
The way that Anselm speaks about the information getting out, that people would hurt them… They live in a nice house, so they might be some kind of nobility in the Ashlands. It makes sense that information about Zarius could be used to hurt them, and now that Anselm knows that Cyran told Astrid, she’s just put herself in a sticky situation – or worse, she’s put Cyran in a stickier situation. But who should she trust??
“I-I do wanna help,” she says, completely unsure of what to make of everything. “How is knowin’ where Cyran is gonna help? I-I guess I get it from the peace a’ mind thin’... He told me, an’ ya don’t want other people knowin’, so it’s probably not good fer more folks ta know, but… I dunno, I don’t think he told no one else. He really didn’t wanna tell me, honest. He just was tryna clear up a misunderstandin’ I had. It’s my fault he said anythin’. It’s my fault I know what happened.” Astrid stops herself from rambling on more and takes a deep breath. Then she looks at Anselm.
“What will ya do ta Cyran if ya know where he is? Can’t I just tell him he needs ta explain himself to ya?” It’s not the answer he’s going to want because it’s not an answer at all, but Astrid doesn’t want to say anything else that will put people she cares about in danger. "Maybe it's too late fer apologies, but... I know he didn't wanna do it. Sounded ta me like there weren't no other options."
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Dec 25, 2023 22:30:42 GMT -5
Anselm pays close attention to Astrid's quiet tone, her stammering, the hesitation. She's holding herself together by threads it seems. While he could demand things of her, bring up how she owes him for helping her and Wolfe with the mob situation, he doesn't. Burning the bridges his son worked so hard to build wouldn't get them anywhere.
While he's not thrilled that Astrid continues to withhold giving him a straight answer, he keeps from raising his voice or showing any more frustration than he has already let slip through.
This kid.
No wonder Cyran broke.
He considers how to answer Astrid's questions. They're good questions. For someone so young, she understands there are two sides to every story and it's important to ask questions and gather more context before giving away any information herself. Though her rambling gives away more than she probably intended. Anselm can tell that Astrid doesn't fully trust him and that she feels conflicted. She doesn't want anyone to be in trouble or get hurt. It's too bad people are already hurting.
"Master Cyran has already proven that he does not want to speak to us. We have no choice but to force him to face us by going to him or having someone bring him back here."
Anselm sits back and runs the edge of his thumbnail against his calloused fingers.
"It may sound drastic, but we are not elves. We do not have the luxury of time that he has. While he might be willing to let these wounds fester, I am not."
He does take a moment to consider Astrid's offer to relay a message, but then he shakes his head. "We do not want him to go deeper into hiding. And it is not your responsibility to mediate for grown-ups. As capable as you are, you are still a child, and you were not involved in what happened. Master Cyran's carelessness brought you into this situation. The fault of you knowing is his, not yours."
Anselm's shoulders tense at Astrid's last words.
"...I do not doubt that is true. He very well may have believed in that moment there were no other options. That there was no saving my son from the evil that overtook him. That does not explain why he chose to flee. I can only make assumptions based on what we know, and those assumptions are not pleasant ones."
The older fellblood then pushes away from the desk and gets up from his chair. He steps across the room to a bookcase where he tips one of the books slightly. There's an audible click and something shifts behind the row of books.
"We are no strangers to confronting death, Miss Astrid. My son is not the first in our family to fall to a blade. He is not even the first to be felled by someone thought of as a friend. I hoped to shelter my children from such horrors, and I am more than aware of how I have failed to protect them. The least I can do for those who remain is try to grant them some closure and ensure that the consequences of Master Cyran's decision bring them no more harm."
He pulls a small metal lockbox out from behind the shelves before there's another shifting and clicking noise. Returning to his desk, he places the box down on its surface and unlocks it with a tiny key hanging from a chain he had tucked within his shirt pocket. He opens it just long enough to pull out a letter with a wax seal before closing the lid and relocking the box.
"While I wish you were not burdened with what you now know, I can at least give you this."
He holds out the letter to Astrid, and waits for her to take it before returning the box to behind the shelf. The letter is pristine and crisp as if it has never been held in the tiny clutches of a letter drake. It has a simple red wax seal pressed with the pattern of an ash rose. On the back is Astrid's name hand-written in a flowing cursive as well as a small note that says "Read this at home".
"I will not pressure you to say or do anything more for our sake," Anselm says as returns to his desk. "I understand that your opinion of Master Cyran is not the same as mine, and I will not hold that against you."
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 25, 2023 23:44:28 GMT -5
Astrid isn’t sure she’ll ever get used to someone saying that things are not her fault. This time it is her fault she knows. She’s the one that pressed Cyran so much when he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. No, this is totally her fault. She chose to come here instead of making sure she understood the situation. Why did she immediately run off here anyway? Because she thought Cyran was lying? Because she thought it couldn’t be true? There were better ways to go about everything today, and already she regrets how she just let her feet carry her and ignore every obstacle and wall that tried to get her to stop and think.
All Astrid wants to do is press her balled up fists into her forehead and let out a frustrated scream, but she can’t. She’s here. She put herself in this situation, and she needs to deal with it.
Gods, she wishes she were fighting the hydra instead. Hells, she’d take Vulcadreaus again over the discomfort everyone is suffering because of her. All this over some excitement for what she thought was… Ugh, it’s so stupid. Why did she think that?
The point is that Cyran and Del kept the information secret from her, and they’re avoiding Darkveil, avoiding the consequences of what happened to Zarius, and she doesn’t know why. She cares a lot about honesty, and she knows that closure is important because that’s something she might never get for herself about certain things in her life, but will giving Zarius’ family a way to grab Cyran mean that he’ll get hurt? What if they do hurt him? Will she be alright with that? No, that would be her fault. She’d regret that more. People don’t need to hurt more.
Gods, why couldn’t she stay back with Cyran and pretend none of this ever happened? It should have just stayed a simple monster hunt. It didn’t need to turn into this.
If her fingers weren’t wrapped in leather gloves, her nails would be digging into her skin. Astrid manages a shuddering breath that pushes the tears back down, but her vision blurs when she finally takes the sealed envelope from Anselm. Zarius isn’t really gone, is he? Does he really have to be gone? Is this all just a joke gone too far?
No, it’s not.
“Read this at home.” Some recommendation or warning that Zarius knows she shouldn’t be alone when she opens this. A simple note that calls back to the conversation she had with him in the sitting room where she came to ask for his help with the Fighter’s Guild because she still couldn’t face anyone there after what happened with Vikram. Astrid’s never been one to deal with loss very well. Maybe it’s why she pushes so hard not to lose, only to win, and to never give up a fight because it’s better to die with honor than it is to feel the pain of losing. Mistakes are one thing, but losing someone is another.
It hits her harder when Astrid realizes that Zarius anticipated something would happen to him. Adventuring is a dangerous game, and something inside of him had been causing some problems. Couple that with whatever enemies his family may have, he fully expected that one day he might die suddenly, and the fact that he thought that she, of all the people he ever interacted with, was one of the people deserving of some final words hits her hard. Even Zarius, someone who had no reason to care a thing about her, could find a way to say goodbye when her mother couldn’t.
Without realizing it, her grip on the envelope crumples it slightly between her fingers, destroying the pristine condition of the paper preserved for her. Tears flow down her face silently and drip onto her weather-treated gloves, rolling off effortlessly and collecting on her brown pants like the first droplets of rain on dirt.
Astrid chokes out her words, the first ones she’s managed in several minutes of quiet reflection. “All this 'cause I thought Cyran was being dodgy about some stupid love triangle that don't even exist.”
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Dec 26, 2023 12:47:52 GMT -5
Anselm opens his mouth to say something but then closes it. While what Astrid said is very odd, the atmosphere in the room hardly suggests it's a good time to open that barrel of eels.
He sits there in silence for a moment, his mind drifting through memories of previous conversations. They were aware of Zarius having formed some close friendships during his travels. Most made sense, individuals with skills that could be leveraged for their benefit after trust had been strengthened. But he started to worry when one pale individual came into the picture. Despite his son's best efforts to keep the Shadow Crawler's identity a secret, it didn't take Anselm too long to figure out who Caedes, or Mei, was.
It has been difficult to respect his son's decision and stay out of his way knowing that such a dangerous individual inhabits the same spaces as his son. He's had nightmares where he finds his son's body drowning in a pool of blood the same way he found his sister years ago. Had Cyran returned instead of Caedes and claimed the changeling had done the deed, he wouldn't have doubted it for a second.
Zewala talked him down from interfering time and time again. His son was an adult afterall, he could make his own decisions. Still, he can't help but wonder if more guidance would have changed things...
"Miss Astrid, I think it is best you return home. Please do try to give us some notice next time you visit. We do not have the energy for any more surprises right now."
Anselm folds his hands again. "It would still be appreciated knowing where Master Cyran has run off to. We have already given him more than a chance to return on his own."
His eyes soften ever so slightly. "Whatever happens between us is not your fault."
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 26, 2023 19:15:57 GMT -5
Loosening her grip on the envelope, Astrid rubs the corner between her finger and thumb, sniffling all the while. Finally, she takes a deep breath, stuttered as it is with each rattle of her shoulders. Then she rubs her nose and eyes. There’s no more room to care about looking brave or presentable, and she doesn’t feel proud to cry here in front of Zarius’ family who haven’t gotten answers or had proper time to mourn. As much as she wants to find a way to bring Zarius back, she doesn’t even know where to start right now.
Another breath steels herself, and she manages to speak again.
“Mister Anselm… I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have come here the way I did. I weren’t thinkin’, and that’s… somethin’ Zarius always tried ta get me ta do.” Her eyes drift down to the envelope as she lets out another sigh. “If I’m bein’ honest, I don’t rightly know what ta do right now. I guess I just… hoped… that it weren’t true.” The envelope crinkles in her grip again, and she sets it in her lap to avoid ruining it more.
“That wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair ta you or Cyran or anyone else here. I’m sorry. An’ I’m–” Astrid’s voice catches in her throat again as she tries to continue. More tears well up no matter how hard she tries to fight them down, so she just lets them fall. Her voice cracks with every word. “I’m really, really sorry that yer family lost someone.”
The sniffles start back up again, so she pulls up her cape and wipes her eyes. “I want ya ta have closure an’ answers ‘cause I know if I could have ‘em then I’d snatch ‘em as fast as the world could offer ‘em… But… I’m havin’ a hard time ‘cause Cyran’s important ta me too, an’ I– I really don’t think that Cyran would…” She can’t finish the sentence. Maybe Cyran would just up and leave with no explanation. Maybe he didn’t have a good reason other than cowardice. But what if he does?
She corrects herself. “I don’t want ta think that Cyran would leave fer no good reason… He did leave without sayin’ anythin’, an’ that’s… It don’t make no sense.” Astrid’s head shakes because no matter how hard she tries to come up with a good reason, she just can’t. Owning up to mistakes and misunderstandings is hard, and if that’s all this is, then he should just come clean. But if he really did kill Zarius with ill intent… Then does she want to be on good terms with him? Cyran and Del always seemed so genuine while Zarius always seemed to be hiding something, and it’s obvious that Zarius was a part of things that could have gotten him killed at any time. She wrestles with wondering if this was an expedited inevitability or if bad blood took someone from their family.
At the end of the day, Astrid doesn’t want the people who care about Cyran to hurt either.
This whole situation really reminds her of the situation with Vikram. He was taken over by an otherworldly entity, begged to die on his own terms, and she had to help kill him. It took her weeks to think about it again and just as much time to properly cry over it. Through all that, she abandoned the Fighter’s Guild for fear that no one there would accept her because how could someone who kills their friends and comrades be a part of an organization like that? How could they look her in the eye?
But ultimately, she was met with acceptance and forgiveness, something that would have eased the burden much sooner if she simply just faced the people she spent so long fearing. Cyran needs to do that. Even if it’s painful, even if it hurts, everyone deserves closure and to face the consequences of their choices. Sometimes people choose death, and Astrid can’t help but feel that Zarius and Vikram were kindred in that sense. Better to die than to cause more hurt to the people you care about.
“I think… he’s afraid,” she says.
Astrid turns and pulls her satchel into her lap. For a long moment she looks at the sealed letter then stows it safely inside of a leatherbound journal tied closed with a strap. Then she pulls out a rolled-up piece of parchment in perfect condition and unblemished on its surface. With a look of resolve, she stands up and offers it to Anselm. “If I can’t convince Cyran ta come back, where he’s at will be written on this paper. Ain’t nothin’ on it right now, but it’s magic. Give me a week.”
It occurs to her that Anselm has no reason to trust her in this regard. She could walk out of here and never return. She could move Cyran somewhere else in that time. That’s plenty of time to give warning, but convincing someone to do something so hard will take time. Split second decisions led her here. Slow down and think, but don’t overthink. There’s a balance to everything.
Anselm doesn’t have to trust that she’ll give an answer, but the look in her eyes, red and puffy as they may be, says that she is being as honest as she can be. “Just promise ya won’t hurt him or the people he cares about. Please, I really think we’re missin’ somethin’, an’ he needs ta tell yer family what that is.” If he doesn’t take the poster, she sets it on his desk then steps back and takes a deep breath.
“Thank you,” she says. “Fer dealin’ with me, fer givin’ me the letter… I’m… I’m sure he’s gonna tell me not ta get in over me head. Thing is, I’m a bit short, so that’s easy ta do by accident.” A little smile, though saddened, crosses her face at the thought. “I’ll… make sure ta send ahead next time. And um... Every time after that, too.”
Astrid starts to offer him a handshake then realizes her gloves are mucky, so she frees her right hand and offers him a proper shake. Without the glove, her hand is small with rough nails and the calloused palms of a seasoned smith.
One more thought comes to her. “...Did Zarius write a letter fer Cyran?”
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Dec 26, 2023 20:48:46 GMT -5
Anselm remains silent as Astrid aires her woes. He's used to keeping a straight face when someone else is broken down sniveling and crying, but it's different when it's a kid and this isn't an interrogation or a shakedown.
His eyes drift down to the paper as Astrid offers it to him. He recognizes the material as they use it quite a bit themselves.
"...Fine. One week. Not a day more."
He has zero intention of honoring that request. There is no guarantee Astrid will keep her word should Cyran sway her opinion of them. And even if she does keep her word, the hunter has proven capable of evading them for weeks already.
As Astrid pleads for him not to hurt anyone, he can't help but feel some frustration and anger well up inside him. Cyran is the one who killed Zarius. Cyran is the one who left without facing them. Cyran is the one who has intentionally made it difficult to contact him. Why should he grant the man any guarantee of safety after all he has done to hurt them especially after already keeping their blades sheathed against those Cyran left behind?
"He has already hurt people who cared about him. I will make no such promises. We have already shown him more grace than he deserves."
It may seem harsh, but they have never raised a hand against Cyran and even expended their own precious resources to safeguard the orphanage. At no time has their family threatened or shown they would be willing to bring Cyran or those he cares about harm. Yet he fled anyway. Cyran couldn't even face Eameia who considered him her first real friend outside of the family and their guard.
Yet Caedes did. Caedes, who has connections to the same group who likely murdered Anselm's own sister. Caedes, who is an undead vampire. That man has every reason to fear their family's wrath. Yet he still showed up.
Cyran didn't.
Cyran ran.
Anselm takes a moment to calm himself before he speaks. He doesn't want to take out his anger on Astrid or hold her insistence on being a mediator against her. He knows she's in over her head, and would prefer if she stepped out of the situation. But she's not his child to parent. And she has been recognized by Charon society itself to the point where she stands on equal footing with politicians and nobles. She's still a kid, but she's a remarkable one.
"I appreciate it," he responds to her promise to give notice next time she wants to talk. At least this conversation was somewhat productive.
As she asks the question about the letter, he nods. "He did."
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 26, 2023 23:55:58 GMT -5
As she pulls herself together, Astrid isn’t really sure if Anselm will keep his word about the week. If she weren’t going to simply magically whisk herself cross-continent again, she’d probably be careful to make sure she isn’t followed. The fellblood may not keep to his word, but she’ll keep to hers. She’s going to try to do something, anything.
And honestly, she doesn’t blame him for not making the promise not to hurt Cyran. He’s right to be angry. A lot of people are, but hurting others just because you’re upset isn’t the right way to go. The world can be cruel, but she doesn’t have to be.
But maybe she’s just naive and optimistic in that way.
All she can do is nod solemnly in understanding. “I… Alright. Thanks fer hearin’ me out anyway,” she says with her eyes low. It isn’t a ploy at pity, she’s just a bit drained, and if she’s feeling this way, she can’t really imagine how Anselm and his family are. What do people do when they’re mourning a loss? Does she send them a gift basket? That seems like something Cantio would do.
That’s beside the point.
When she hears that Cyran got a letter too, Astrid’s brow furrows, and her eyes trace patterns in the rug while she contemplates what she’ll do or say with that information. She has no idea what kind of letter she has from Zarius. Maybe she really should go home and read it…? But there’s no time for that. Still, if Cyran hears about that, he might feel compelled to come back and get it.
So instead she just nods a little and looks up at Anselm again whilst pulling her glove back on, handshake accepted or not. “Alright. Maybe that’ll help encourage him ta come back.” Astrid takes a deep breath. “I hope next time I see ya, stuff’s a little…better. Even just a little. I really am sorry fer... fer what yer goin' through...”
She turns and realizes she really came in through the worst possible means, so she digs through her bag and pulls out a small magical key[1] that’ll take her straight home. “I um… I’ll leave more quietly,” she says then strolls over to the office door and puts the key in the lock, opening it to the foyer at home where she makes a quick exit and closes the door behind her.
Pressing her back to what is now her front door, Astrid takes a deep breath before calling out. “Da? Are ya home?” Silence does not ring through the house, and neither do the deep barks of the hellhound. Instead, the clumsy footsteps of Charles approaching greet her. As he rounds the corner, the red eyes of Charles the Blixto™ focus on her before an inhuman voice speaks.
“Mistress Astrid, greeting: Welcome home. Conscript Cantio is in the garden preparing the plants for snowfall with Spicy Pawsage. Query: Should this unit announce your return?”
Astrid shakes her head. “No, no… Don’t…” Her eyes fall, and they search the ground for what to do. She’s upset and should lean on Cantio, but she can’t tell him why she’s upset. If she can’t talk about it, then what good is it being home right now..? Still, he’s definitely felt everything going on in her mind all day. He’s going to have questions, and if she doesn’t tell him that she’s come home even if for a few minutes, he’ll be disappointed.
After fighting with herself for a few minutes, Astrid looks at Charles. “Charles, erase the last two minutes and the next one minute from yer mind core.”
Charles’ head tilts briefly with the facsimile of confusion but then straightens. “Orders confirmed.” His eyes dim as a dull whirring occurs behind them.
Once his eyes dim, Astrid slips back out the front door and digs into her bag for the empty bottle of Elsewhere Juice. She has to go back to Cyran as soon as possible. She obviously trekked through the swamp with all the staining and dampness to her clothes. Anselm isn’t stupid, he’ll figure that out. Focusing her magic, Astrid uses everything she’s learned from the Consortium to regenerate the original potion with what few drops are left into another use of it.[2]
Holding it to the light, Astrid takes a breath. “Alright, Cyran. Let’s fix yer mess.” In one go, she downs the potion and disappears from the front porch.
1. House Key 2. Transmuter - Alchemical Mastery
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