Alastriona grimaced slightly. "I'm aware of who Old Jack is and how much he's suffered over the years, but not to the extent you're talking about. I really hope it doesn't come down to killing him..." she said, resisting her predecessor's memories from welling up to the forefront. Her eyes briefly glistened, but she quickly blinked them back under control.
"Obviously not now, but it'd be worth talking to Nereus about how I might approach him. After all, the whole reason Samoset's curse exists is because of the Chamberlain's machinations."
She ventured closer to the created patch and watched as the glowing tendrils crept toward Quigley. "MacHae's challenge is the main reason for my wanting to hurry my connection to Sophia's root system, but there's others."
"Tom's arcane signature is notably different from when Sophia made his warlock's staff. People change, but not that much that quickly. It feels negatively tainted, somehow. I also worry about Hector Gutierrez's mundane drug cartel influencing the city on a magical level. For example, what if it makes the situation with Old Jack worse? Much of this is speculation, but I have to be as ready as I can be."
The dryad continued to observe him and tilted her head. "You mentioned that this was going to be the reverse of how you connected with your version of Sophia, so how does that work?" she asked.
***
Neasa nodded in response to Aatxe's confirmation that he was joining them.
Once Cuthbert revealed Apophis' plans, she smiled and briefly wondered if such a form would be bipedal like George Gammell or something more specific to the Animate. "I hope that it goes well for you, as you deserve to have a body that doesn't bring you pain or physical complications."
A thought occurred to her as she finished her food, and the roane then inquired, "I assume you don't mind us telling Meris and Nereus about you and how you helped us, right? I think they ought to know they have another ally on their side. Obviously, we'll wait until we can talk about it in private."
***
Samigina's words both made her further concerned but also calmed. Even with Vassago's ability to take note of many potentials at once, they still had to deal with the one that was actually going to take place. Whatever that incident would be, they would have to cross that bridge once they came to it.
The captain would get the feeling of acceptance to his advice. "You're right, Sam. Whatever's going to happen will be handled at it happens. In the meantime, I'll cherish this moment in time with Nereus. We deserve to at least have that, after everything that has transpired for us. Thank you for your counsel, and enjoy yourself until we'll need your aid."
As a gesture of this mentality, the Archmage affectionately gripped one of Nereus' hands and squeezed gently.
Chapter VII - Healing Pains
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Amazo fell silent again for a few moments. "During Elysium, I pulled on the Centennial Tree's reserves to channel them, form an illusion with its offered power. Now, I'm acting like a car battery boosting your network and the fungal nodes that surround it. I have to do this slowly, your Tree's still young and it's still adapting to Hope's soil - if I'm a little too eager, it'll suck me dry..."
An odd sensation would begin to creep in the back of Alex's mind, as though a being with an impossible number of fine fingers were touching each end-point of every root in her tree and of every nearby node in the fungal network - and tickling them. It wasn't unpleasant, but it definitely was odd - and she'd be able to sense the roots tugging just that tiny bit further, the fungal network handshaking with them until, slowly, the tingling sense of her own awareness slowly expanding began to creep up the back of her neck...
"I can't push you too much," noted the Archmage. "As soon as you'll touch Sophia's network, that weird feeling you're sensing is going to start growing exponentially... I don't advise leaving here until you'll have gotten your bearings; you're about to gain information on this city that most other dryads gather piecemeal over centuries..."
* * *
For a while longer, the assembly roiled about in the immense space, groups forming and unforming without much to be concerned about, safe perhaps for how this stood as an occasion for Li Si's vampires to display their craft. The same begrudgingly-modernized men and women you saw keeping to the sidelines grew slightly more bold as time passed, touching an elbow here or a scapula there, and every instance came with a gleam of understanding in their eyes. Little by little, they mingled in with the rest of the Fae, supernaturals and dragons in humanoid form, going from illiterate foreigners to graceful conversationalists in the span of a few minutes. The woman Carrie and Aidan had spotted had previously stuck to her own people, but once Nereus had placed his eyes on her, she'd already gone to speaking Irish Gaelic with a native's ease, plastering a bemused and pleased smile on the middle-aged Fae aristocrat she was discussing with.
"The real danger with our new friends isn't really that they could drain us dry," noted the former Augur, "but that they could render everyone in this room virtually obsolete in a few hours. If you're one of them and you enter a hospital, you start out not being able to tie your shoes on your own and leave it knowing exactly how to perform an angioplasty and which statins to watch for in patients with a history of heart failure... Give them an Archmage or a former Augur to play patty-cake with, and..."
He didn't finish his thought. The massive stained-glass doors that shrouded one of Yggdrasil's greater branches slightly opened, letting the visible spectrum of via spill through for a few moments. Four figures were backlit against it and soon came into view. Titania and Oberon were difficult to miss in their swapped tones of arboreal green, autumnal gold and wintry blues and whites, but the other two figures were newcomers. One of them was a dryad as you might've seen elsewhere, with a notably matronly figure. A Tudor dress clung to her, complimenting her wide hips, her skin like polished wood showing middle-aged wrinkles, her gold-green eyes twinkling in the light. Her hair was a careful braid of vines and hair, her Faun-like nose giving her a particularly noble profile.
The fourth figure looked like an armor-clad knight, if you'd carved the knight out of living wood. His beard was a stream of moss and his plate mail stretches of bark over radicella, his long cape a weave of living ivy. Ponderously, he drew a longsword from a scabbard at his back and rested it against the floor, crackles of energy snaking outwards upon contact. That seemed to serve as a signal of sorts, as the assembly turned to face the group.
The knight spoke, his voice filling the Great Hall's space effortlessly. He didn't need to scream or shout, but still commanded absolute authority.
"On this day, we are gathered here in the Elder Tree's shade in an act of rememberance, and to renew our vows. We are gathered here to forge new ties and to..."
He paused, meeting Herbert's gaze in the crowd. "...recognize those whose Lordships and Principalities ultimately served to safeguard us. I am Hengist of Avalon, Knight Protector to Lady Scatha of the Elder Tree. I am the Green Knight, Yggdrasil's Sword and Shield. I offer you what has been offered to the Tuatha since time immemorial. Safety, cordiality and honor. Let my vow remain unbroken."
The older dryad then stepped forward. "I am Lady Scatha, and have watched over the British Isles and Yggdrasil's eldest spawn since before Men knew to wield bronze tools. I am sister-in-bond with London's own dryad, and my root network extends far past these islands. The Elder Tree knows you all, senses you all - and so do I. I offer you peace, friendship and wisdom. Let my vow remain unbroken."
Titania then stepped forward. "I am Titania, Queen of Summer. My Mantle reaches from the days of our liberation and ascension to this very day, over millions of years of human history. My word is Law and Power for all those in Summer's golden rays. I offer you respite, release from your travels, and a table and hearth to call your own. Let my vow remain unbroken."
Oberon followed. "I am Oberon, King of All Winters. My Mantle stems from the hardships of our first days under dragon rule and extends its glad hand to you, over seas of time. My word is Law and Power for all those in the Hearth's warm embrace - and a bane to those who would follow the Mistresses of the Wilds, Mab and Morgana."
He smirked. "It may come as a surprise to some of you to hear my accent. I am indeed American by birth. Tradition, obviously, demands that all those who bear the Mantle of Oberon challenge Tradition itself - in as playful a means as possible. I offer you joy, my friends - the very joy at the heart of my Hearth's blazing fire. My gifts might only manifest as the day ends - but mark my words: by the end of it, you shall drink and be merry, one and all."
His smirk then darkened. "Unless you are one of those who would despoil the sanctity of this moment for our newest charges and our youngest of gifts. Then, and I offer this as cordially as possible - you shall find me to be... glacial. Seek not my ire and you shall not receive it. It's as plain as day."
The murmur of several translators nestled in the throng came to a stop. Titania then stepped forward.
"We have convened over the past several days and have concluded that while all of the mortal realm's cities have known their heroes, there is one fiefdom in particular where Destiny has been inflected for us all."
She found Eirean in the crowd, and smiled. "Lady McHale, it is my understanding that your Knights have fought against the Black Goat in direct engagements and that your closest allies now count Thrones of Heaven in their number."
Eirean smiled back, an enchantment carrying her voice for others to hear. "It is as you say, My Queen. None of us in Hope could have survived without my Knights, without Lord Haskill's dilligence, and without our allies, far and wide. Many of those who fought with us are here today. Some, I feel, warrant special commendations."
Titania nodded. "And which ones among them have not received your grace yet?
- There are several. Feel my Mantle, O Queen, and call out their names."
Titania nodded once more, this time withdrawing her gaze for a moment. When she spoke again, there was power in her words, reaching out to those mentioned and carrying with it a sense of recognition unlike anything they would've felt before. "I call out your names: Marius Vlastos, Marianna Jameson, Carrie Silva, Aatxe of the Black Wastes, Silas Robertson, Aspasia Robertson, Zebediah Buck, Eliphas Buck, all of Heaven's Thrones and the Seat of its Angels, the Kami-domo of Fae's Japanese provinces and all its representatives in Eien-no-Yuki, Meris of the Orcades, Heiress of Solomon and all of her Court, Jubal Whitney and his wiley Gentlemen; Horatio Grimley, Priest of Selene..."
She paused. "If you were not named, consider yourself blessed as well as those peers of yours, near or far, of whom I have spoken the Name. Unnamed are the Lady's Knights, for their blessings are already known. I know you, see you - and thank you."
Oberon stepped forward as well. "I would extend my own gratitude to those who have suffered most in the past months: the turncoat Void Weavers who now walk in the Light and the demons who sought to honor their forbears and stand before us as spirits of Wisdom, as opposed to tormenting horrors from beyond our plane. I See and Name all of the men of the Burning Legion, as honored as they were by Lucian Rothchild, and turn my gaze, especially, toward Nereus of Dalarath."
He extended a hand. "Please, my Lord Augur. Step forward."
Looking bemused, Nereus muttered apologies to Meris and did as asked of him, Oberon keeping his outstretched hand until Nereus was just a step away. "As per the Old Ways, I offer you respite and claim you as my own, as long as you stand in these halls of mine."
Realizing Nereus was confused, Oberon gave the assembly an amused look. "He's confused, nobody thought to tell him that the Celtic chieftains of old symbolically adopted their own allies as sons or brothers."
Polite laughter shook the room, and Oberon looked down on Nereus. "It's alright, I'm not about to lay claim on what's left of your charge, mister Marinos. All this means is that you and yours are mine to protect. Rest your forehead on my chest for a second, and we'll call it a day."
Nereus cleared his throat. "I am, er... honored to have you as a brother, my King. Those of us who turned away from the dark are now in your hands."
Oberon spent a few seconds stroking the back of Nereus' head. "I'll take care of them as if they were my own, Nereus. Better me than Mab or the Fomor, trust me."
Nereus seemed a bit surprised. "You're acting as though stating you'd protect us were enough..."
Oberon smirk. "Our Word is our Bond, Augur. If one of the Sidhe makes a promise, the Old Ways and the New alike will bend the entire world to see it to fruition. How else do you think Lord Haskill managed to cover Hope's battlefields in blizzards in the middle of August?"
The Squid smiled sheepishly. "I'm no Augur, either. Not anymore. I've been removed from Dalarath from a long time - first in spirit, then in intent."
The Winter King chuckled as if this were a mildly funny joke. "No, Mister Marinos. You're still an Augur - only now your portents are luminous and filled with hope and gladness."
By the way Nereus looked, Oberon might as well have gut-punched him with an inconvenient, if entirely correct truth that stripped away all of his personal justifications for seeing himself as flawed. Returning to Meris, Nereus looked equally dazed, on the verge of tears and happier than ever before.
As he sat back down next to Meris, all Nereus could murmur was "He's seen me, Meris. He's seen me better than I see myself..."
An odd sensation would begin to creep in the back of Alex's mind, as though a being with an impossible number of fine fingers were touching each end-point of every root in her tree and of every nearby node in the fungal network - and tickling them. It wasn't unpleasant, but it definitely was odd - and she'd be able to sense the roots tugging just that tiny bit further, the fungal network handshaking with them until, slowly, the tingling sense of her own awareness slowly expanding began to creep up the back of her neck...
"I can't push you too much," noted the Archmage. "As soon as you'll touch Sophia's network, that weird feeling you're sensing is going to start growing exponentially... I don't advise leaving here until you'll have gotten your bearings; you're about to gain information on this city that most other dryads gather piecemeal over centuries..."
* * *
For a while longer, the assembly roiled about in the immense space, groups forming and unforming without much to be concerned about, safe perhaps for how this stood as an occasion for Li Si's vampires to display their craft. The same begrudgingly-modernized men and women you saw keeping to the sidelines grew slightly more bold as time passed, touching an elbow here or a scapula there, and every instance came with a gleam of understanding in their eyes. Little by little, they mingled in with the rest of the Fae, supernaturals and dragons in humanoid form, going from illiterate foreigners to graceful conversationalists in the span of a few minutes. The woman Carrie and Aidan had spotted had previously stuck to her own people, but once Nereus had placed his eyes on her, she'd already gone to speaking Irish Gaelic with a native's ease, plastering a bemused and pleased smile on the middle-aged Fae aristocrat she was discussing with.
"The real danger with our new friends isn't really that they could drain us dry," noted the former Augur, "but that they could render everyone in this room virtually obsolete in a few hours. If you're one of them and you enter a hospital, you start out not being able to tie your shoes on your own and leave it knowing exactly how to perform an angioplasty and which statins to watch for in patients with a history of heart failure... Give them an Archmage or a former Augur to play patty-cake with, and..."
He didn't finish his thought. The massive stained-glass doors that shrouded one of Yggdrasil's greater branches slightly opened, letting the visible spectrum of via spill through for a few moments. Four figures were backlit against it and soon came into view. Titania and Oberon were difficult to miss in their swapped tones of arboreal green, autumnal gold and wintry blues and whites, but the other two figures were newcomers. One of them was a dryad as you might've seen elsewhere, with a notably matronly figure. A Tudor dress clung to her, complimenting her wide hips, her skin like polished wood showing middle-aged wrinkles, her gold-green eyes twinkling in the light. Her hair was a careful braid of vines and hair, her Faun-like nose giving her a particularly noble profile.
The fourth figure looked like an armor-clad knight, if you'd carved the knight out of living wood. His beard was a stream of moss and his plate mail stretches of bark over radicella, his long cape a weave of living ivy. Ponderously, he drew a longsword from a scabbard at his back and rested it against the floor, crackles of energy snaking outwards upon contact. That seemed to serve as a signal of sorts, as the assembly turned to face the group.
The knight spoke, his voice filling the Great Hall's space effortlessly. He didn't need to scream or shout, but still commanded absolute authority.
"On this day, we are gathered here in the Elder Tree's shade in an act of rememberance, and to renew our vows. We are gathered here to forge new ties and to..."
He paused, meeting Herbert's gaze in the crowd. "...recognize those whose Lordships and Principalities ultimately served to safeguard us. I am Hengist of Avalon, Knight Protector to Lady Scatha of the Elder Tree. I am the Green Knight, Yggdrasil's Sword and Shield. I offer you what has been offered to the Tuatha since time immemorial. Safety, cordiality and honor. Let my vow remain unbroken."
The older dryad then stepped forward. "I am Lady Scatha, and have watched over the British Isles and Yggdrasil's eldest spawn since before Men knew to wield bronze tools. I am sister-in-bond with London's own dryad, and my root network extends far past these islands. The Elder Tree knows you all, senses you all - and so do I. I offer you peace, friendship and wisdom. Let my vow remain unbroken."
Titania then stepped forward. "I am Titania, Queen of Summer. My Mantle reaches from the days of our liberation and ascension to this very day, over millions of years of human history. My word is Law and Power for all those in Summer's golden rays. I offer you respite, release from your travels, and a table and hearth to call your own. Let my vow remain unbroken."
Oberon followed. "I am Oberon, King of All Winters. My Mantle stems from the hardships of our first days under dragon rule and extends its glad hand to you, over seas of time. My word is Law and Power for all those in the Hearth's warm embrace - and a bane to those who would follow the Mistresses of the Wilds, Mab and Morgana."
He smirked. "It may come as a surprise to some of you to hear my accent. I am indeed American by birth. Tradition, obviously, demands that all those who bear the Mantle of Oberon challenge Tradition itself - in as playful a means as possible. I offer you joy, my friends - the very joy at the heart of my Hearth's blazing fire. My gifts might only manifest as the day ends - but mark my words: by the end of it, you shall drink and be merry, one and all."
His smirk then darkened. "Unless you are one of those who would despoil the sanctity of this moment for our newest charges and our youngest of gifts. Then, and I offer this as cordially as possible - you shall find me to be... glacial. Seek not my ire and you shall not receive it. It's as plain as day."
The murmur of several translators nestled in the throng came to a stop. Titania then stepped forward.
"We have convened over the past several days and have concluded that while all of the mortal realm's cities have known their heroes, there is one fiefdom in particular where Destiny has been inflected for us all."
She found Eirean in the crowd, and smiled. "Lady McHale, it is my understanding that your Knights have fought against the Black Goat in direct engagements and that your closest allies now count Thrones of Heaven in their number."
Eirean smiled back, an enchantment carrying her voice for others to hear. "It is as you say, My Queen. None of us in Hope could have survived without my Knights, without Lord Haskill's dilligence, and without our allies, far and wide. Many of those who fought with us are here today. Some, I feel, warrant special commendations."
Titania nodded. "And which ones among them have not received your grace yet?
- There are several. Feel my Mantle, O Queen, and call out their names."
Titania nodded once more, this time withdrawing her gaze for a moment. When she spoke again, there was power in her words, reaching out to those mentioned and carrying with it a sense of recognition unlike anything they would've felt before. "I call out your names: Marius Vlastos, Marianna Jameson, Carrie Silva, Aatxe of the Black Wastes, Silas Robertson, Aspasia Robertson, Zebediah Buck, Eliphas Buck, all of Heaven's Thrones and the Seat of its Angels, the Kami-domo of Fae's Japanese provinces and all its representatives in Eien-no-Yuki, Meris of the Orcades, Heiress of Solomon and all of her Court, Jubal Whitney and his wiley Gentlemen; Horatio Grimley, Priest of Selene..."
She paused. "If you were not named, consider yourself blessed as well as those peers of yours, near or far, of whom I have spoken the Name. Unnamed are the Lady's Knights, for their blessings are already known. I know you, see you - and thank you."
Oberon stepped forward as well. "I would extend my own gratitude to those who have suffered most in the past months: the turncoat Void Weavers who now walk in the Light and the demons who sought to honor their forbears and stand before us as spirits of Wisdom, as opposed to tormenting horrors from beyond our plane. I See and Name all of the men of the Burning Legion, as honored as they were by Lucian Rothchild, and turn my gaze, especially, toward Nereus of Dalarath."
He extended a hand. "Please, my Lord Augur. Step forward."
Looking bemused, Nereus muttered apologies to Meris and did as asked of him, Oberon keeping his outstretched hand until Nereus was just a step away. "As per the Old Ways, I offer you respite and claim you as my own, as long as you stand in these halls of mine."
Realizing Nereus was confused, Oberon gave the assembly an amused look. "He's confused, nobody thought to tell him that the Celtic chieftains of old symbolically adopted their own allies as sons or brothers."
Polite laughter shook the room, and Oberon looked down on Nereus. "It's alright, I'm not about to lay claim on what's left of your charge, mister Marinos. All this means is that you and yours are mine to protect. Rest your forehead on my chest for a second, and we'll call it a day."
Nereus cleared his throat. "I am, er... honored to have you as a brother, my King. Those of us who turned away from the dark are now in your hands."
Oberon spent a few seconds stroking the back of Nereus' head. "I'll take care of them as if they were my own, Nereus. Better me than Mab or the Fomor, trust me."
Nereus seemed a bit surprised. "You're acting as though stating you'd protect us were enough..."
Oberon smirk. "Our Word is our Bond, Augur. If one of the Sidhe makes a promise, the Old Ways and the New alike will bend the entire world to see it to fruition. How else do you think Lord Haskill managed to cover Hope's battlefields in blizzards in the middle of August?"
The Squid smiled sheepishly. "I'm no Augur, either. Not anymore. I've been removed from Dalarath from a long time - first in spirit, then in intent."
The Winter King chuckled as if this were a mildly funny joke. "No, Mister Marinos. You're still an Augur - only now your portents are luminous and filled with hope and gladness."
By the way Nereus looked, Oberon might as well have gut-punched him with an inconvenient, if entirely correct truth that stripped away all of his personal justifications for seeing himself as flawed. Returning to Meris, Nereus looked equally dazed, on the verge of tears and happier than ever before.
As he sat back down next to Meris, all Nereus could murmur was "He's seen me, Meris. He's seen me better than I see myself..."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Meris was about to respond to his speculation about the jiangshi, but that was halted by the partial opening of the double doors and the emergence of Hengist, Scatha, Titania, and Oberon into the Great Hall.
She had already met with the Queen and King, but the Elder Tree's dryad and the Green Knight were definite firsts. She could see a bit of similarity to Sophia and Alastriona's noses in the noble air it gave her. As for the Green Knight, she obviously knew of him from legends, but didn't realize they would meet him as well today.
After their introductions and declarations, the Archmage was surprised to see Nereus called forth to accept Oberon's show of protection and support for the Augur. Hearing the Winter King's words, her heart swelled with pride and happiness for her husband. All of the monarch's observations about the Voidweaver were true, even though the latter didn't realize that about himself.
Once he was seated, the selkie smiled gently and placed a hand over his. "He saw what I've seen in you at different times in your life. Now that you're free of Chambers, you will be able express those qualities in the light. Your love of architecture, your compassion, your zeal for life, and your optimism. Those things aren't in the shadows any longer. They're visible for those who are willing to see your true self and who share your interests."
***
Alex sighed as she sensed the strange feeling start to creep into the back of her mind, like she was being awkwardly tickled in the effort to link with her sister's fungal and root system. She had an inkling of the information she would be exposed to as her sense of her territory slowly expanded.
"In a way, I wish I could do things the traditional dryad way and learn things as I go, but I'm anything but traditional. What was a leisurely eighteen years off-world would've been two months here. I'm already a rush job of sorts. And the city isn't really giving me a break to acclimate like Sophia did. A week here, and there's already trouble brewing..."
She then smiled nervously and chuckled. "I was able to see the first Matrix film while we were staying in the Cradle. I might as well be Neo, and you're Morpheus while I wait for the old Tree's information to be uploaded into my mind," she commented, the word taking on new meaning for a species that had mostly previously been adverse to technology. "No kung fu, though."
She had already met with the Queen and King, but the Elder Tree's dryad and the Green Knight were definite firsts. She could see a bit of similarity to Sophia and Alastriona's noses in the noble air it gave her. As for the Green Knight, she obviously knew of him from legends, but didn't realize they would meet him as well today.
After their introductions and declarations, the Archmage was surprised to see Nereus called forth to accept Oberon's show of protection and support for the Augur. Hearing the Winter King's words, her heart swelled with pride and happiness for her husband. All of the monarch's observations about the Voidweaver were true, even though the latter didn't realize that about himself.
Once he was seated, the selkie smiled gently and placed a hand over his. "He saw what I've seen in you at different times in your life. Now that you're free of Chambers, you will be able express those qualities in the light. Your love of architecture, your compassion, your zeal for life, and your optimism. Those things aren't in the shadows any longer. They're visible for those who are willing to see your true self and who share your interests."
***
Alex sighed as she sensed the strange feeling start to creep into the back of her mind, like she was being awkwardly tickled in the effort to link with her sister's fungal and root system. She had an inkling of the information she would be exposed to as her sense of her territory slowly expanded.
"In a way, I wish I could do things the traditional dryad way and learn things as I go, but I'm anything but traditional. What was a leisurely eighteen years off-world would've been two months here. I'm already a rush job of sorts. And the city isn't really giving me a break to acclimate like Sophia did. A week here, and there's already trouble brewing..."
She then smiled nervously and chuckled. "I was able to see the first Matrix film while we were staying in the Cradle. I might as well be Neo, and you're Morpheus while I wait for the old Tree's information to be uploaded into my mind," she commented, the word taking on new meaning for a species that had mostly previously been adverse to technology. "No kung fu, though."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Eyes still closed, Amazo smirked. "Eh, I wouldn't say that. Maybe no Kung Fu, but you're channeling the wrong franchise, anyway. Dryads are just one case of psychosis away from turning into Batman's Poison Ivy. We're post-war, so my thinking is you won't be under mind-breaking stress yet, but chances are Sophia's fungal network - and Jack's - are holding onto some pretty dark stuff. And that's without mentioning the Bucks...
He parted with a sardonic chuckle. "Let's just say there aren't a lot of dryads that have it easy, lately... Feeling something yet?"
Slowly, Alex's proproception was blooming. She obviously had her own body, but like any other physically-independent dryad, could also sense her Tree's tingling as her greater sense of Self expanded - and shadows began to be perceptible at the edges of her awareness. A map of Hope's fungal network, intermingled with the city's old, gaslight-era and dryad-adapted prosthetic elements was the sense that Hell had touched onto a different kind of darkness, something that the Black Goat, in his deluded state, thought he could harness.
And there there were - the darker reaches of the network. Jack's own sense of Pickman's Sound, handshaking with Alex's notion of the city through what remained of Sophia's, triggering the ghost of old feelings in the younger dryad.
Hope. Self-confidence. Anger. Anger at the city's officials for not planning decades in advance. Friendship mixed with a touch of resentment - the lingering doubt that perhaps, those she'd counted on to defend the city hadn't done enough. Fear. The faint ghost of terror - and fury. How to turn graceful vines into thorns, how to turn sap into poison, how to deliberately taint the life-giving earth that sustained her so that nothing of Hell's reaches could ever find purchase here, even at the risk of turning a grove into a dead heath, or turning a spring of freshwater black with ill intent made manifest. The only thing that held that darkness at bay was the sense that for Sophia, this had been utilitarian, and nothing else. It was obvious, in how Alex had been able to take up her mantle so easily. Sophia hadn't used a Scorched Earth policy; she'd merely made it obvious that even beyond her death, Hope's denizens were here, and thriving - at her leisure.
And now, that sense of control was Alex's - and it reached out to Jack's even darker roots. If someone had asked a Fae what happens to a dryad if it knows far too much trauma, Jack Green would've been the answer. His fields were fertile - full to bursting with fruits and vegetables that nobody could reach, that rotted on their branches and fell to black, rich soil crisscrossed with cilia-like fungi and vines covered in daggerpoint-like barbs. Pickman's Sound was ignoring a battle it would soon have to face, with a re-wilded expanse driven by the will of a nature spirit that had lost all faith in the locals.
A green tide.
Amidst it all, worrying about the other Machae felt almost ridiculous. Still, Sophia would sense that Jack's green tide wasn't set on bursting free yet. It worked underground, burrowed further downwards instead of up towards the sky - keeping up appearances. She'd have a flash of the farm, as seen from an on-road approach: placid, lush, green. The only tells were the absence of seasonal workers, and of the other local farmers, who could only cast worried looks towards the old Green farm.
As for Vernon's concerns, being able to turn all of this new perceptual power to her desired use would allow her to see that in a corner of Solita, in the shadow of Weasel Biggs' tower, some of the Little People and of their Sidhe cousins were trying to channel old druidic magic, to bestow strength and cunning upon their favored champion... What that promised, however, was anyone's guess so far.
Seeing this unfold through Alex's expressions, the Winter Lord gave her a querying glance. "And? Have you gleaned anything, my dear?"
* * *
Polite applause followed, with Hengist raising his hand.
"We are gathered here today to renew Faerie's bonds with the mortal plane, and most of your socializing would suffice as a show of commitment. However, we are called to celebrate the dawning of a new era.
Amongst you are men and women - all seemingly mortal - who welcomed today's auspicious opportunity to Choose among their own peers. In the face of our loss, Lady Scatha and I have agreed: Changelings of this new world must be bound not simply by Oath or choice, but by magic as well, so that our bonds may be strenghtened."
The stained-glass doors behind the quartet opened fully, exposing a massive garden pavilion, lush with selected flora - and housing the largest tree to ever harbor a Nexus in Earth and Faerie alike. The arcane radiation was strong enough for Silas, Zeb and a few other lichs' bones in the crowd to glow with a faint blue light. Coach's eyelights momentarily winked out as he took in a deep breath, his glow briefly intensifying. For a moment, he didn't need a strong emotional affect for werelight to sketch out his old human features, and lifted a hand to inspect his lambent bones, light sketching out the contours of fingernails he hadn't seen in lifetimes.
"Changelings - please step forward."
A smattering of younger men and women did as indicated, leaving the throng of guests to briefly stand in the front row. Scatha and Hengist stepped slightly apart, inviting the young ones to form a line as they passed between them. It didn't take long for the basin's waters to be heard quietly sloshing, and for luxuiating sighs to be heard as via suffused the Changelings, turning them into Sidhe of full lineage. As they walked out of the basin and stepped forward again, mostly unchanged if not for a few aesthetic details in their facial proportions or the presence or absence of pointed pinna, more measured applause followed. The aspirants, for the most part, were overcome with emotion and smiled or wept openly, returning to loved ones to hug them fiercely, or kiss them with abandon. Scatha watched this unfold with an approving smile, and then turned to Titania, who nodded.
"London - Caer Lundein - and all of Faerie - we give you new blood!"
The applause that followed was a bit stronger, but something was still waiting to outclass even this event. Oberon then stepped forward.
"Milords and ladies; you know me. You know my charge. I take the elderly, the sick, the infirm, the truly wretched - and offer to them the Hearth's fire. There is one of you, tonight, who is worthy of such an honor."
Along the side of the hall, a massive fireplace sprung to life with a single whoosh of rushing flame. Its heat was stronger than anything any mere fireplace could've produced, but Meris and the others would observe as the Fae - or namely those allied with Oberon and Titania - seemed to be drawn to it. The closer to the Hearth they stepped, the more their eyes gleamed and the more their smiles widened. To Nereus, it almost looked like the Mad Arts' incipient madness, but it didn't spring out of despair, unlike what he was used to. This fire, the parent of Eien-No-Yuki's own braziers and cooking fires, was cheer in its purest form, and its strength was such that even Nereus, who didn't feel particularly drawn to it, still felt the urge to let his eyelids droop, the way you would after spending a while next to a cozy fireplace.
"Azazel," asked Oberon. "Step forward."
Looking as unsure as ever, the scarred former Scapegoat limped forward, rubbing his wrists that still bore the scars of his old manacles. "I don't mean to be impolite, but I've had my fill of fire."
Oberon smiled tightly and nodded. "I know, boy. All I'll ask you to do is to stand next to the Hearth. The Tree is going to be of more help to you, if I'm honest. However, Hell's made you brittle. We need you soft, again. Pliable. Not to manipulate you, but to allow you to grow. As you aren't just a demon, Azazel. You've fought with Blue Chimeras before, haven't you?"
Azazel briefly looked for Aspasia in the crowd, then nodded. Oberon seemed appreciative. "The man who calls himself their Father never earned that right. From a purely genetic point of view, Azazel; you are the closest thing to Aspasia's natural progenitor. Before standing before me as a demon, you actually stand before me as the last of the Wyldfae's Fauns. There are... fragments of you inside her, inside of every modern Faun. It's Titania and I's hope that the globe's oldest Nexus could help you; restore your bonds to the World's Breath. Maybe, in turn, once you're made whole, you'll be able to contribute something for her kind."
Azazel nodded hesitantly. "What do I need to do?"
Oberon parted an arm. "Just come and stand next to me for a few moments - right by the fire.
- What can I expect?"
The Winter King smiled. "Warmth. Warmth like love. Like life itself. Like a filled belly, like the joyous pain of having laughed or shouted yourself hoarse during a party. You might feel yourself going mad, but I'm not going to let the Hearth take you all to itself. You're not destined to become another Krampus. You're to be given joy - tempered with all our wisdom."
The demon hesitated. "Will the pain go away?"
Titania smiled. "With the warmth of the Hearth and the Tree's spring, Hell's purchase over you should be loosened. You'll be rid of them, Azazel. Finally."
That seemed to be enough to draw tears from the Faun, who nodded, stepped forward - and ignored Oberon's arms, to willingly step past the mantle and into the burning pyre. Where you could've expected screaming to follow, there came a shout of sudden surprise that changed to a shy chuckle, a slightly bolder laugh - and as the flames engulfed him, Azazel laughed openly and with jolly abandonment, the language of his years spent with the last Fauns rising out of him unbidden.
"Brothers, sisters - I see you! Those who cursed us were wrong, I can feel you! You were received in the Maker's arms! You were blessed! The Goat took us in, twisted us - and it was all for naught! You are dancing in Mother Earth's fields!"
Azazel, how a blazing human-shaped torch, stepped out of the Hearth. Where anyone else would've been screaming, he merely laughed and bounded around the space immediately in front of the fireplace. If this fire had been natural, his flesh would've been practically melted away, by now. Instead, the reverse seemed to happen, as his flesh glistened like wax - only to heal as the flames licked it. His fur turned denser, each hair a lit wick, and his dried-out horns fell off of his head. Like in a time-lapse video, the fuzzy capsules of new horn buds emerged from his skull, rapidly turning into new, lighter and longer horns than before. Chuckling, Oberon took the blazing faun's hand.
"Focus, Azazel. You're almost done. The iron of your flesh needs to be tempered, now."
It took a few seconds, but mindless glee left the former demon's face by degrees, and he eventually nodded. Still blazing, his flames not catching on anyone or anything else, he stepped towards Titania, Hengist and Scatha. The dryad and Summer Queen nodded, smiled, took his hands and guided him down into the Tree's basin, his fire winking out as smoke engulfed him and the air was filled with the hiss of cooling material. Still, he didn't scream, and only sighed as the Changelings had done. By the time he sank completely down into the basin, the Tree's alcove was filled with smoke and smelled faintly of something strange: instead of burning flesh, the event had produced a single and strong note of Brimstone that had fallen away almost immediately, almost giving way to something like the scent of burning sweetgrass.
Three couldn't quite keep himself. "Will he be alright?" he asked.
Scatha nodded. "Patience, friends. The Tree has to undo millennia of abuse, chip away at Evil as old as History itself. The Hearth made it brittle, now the World's Breath has to seep through the cracks, as it were - slough off old skin to make way for the new."
He parted with a sardonic chuckle. "Let's just say there aren't a lot of dryads that have it easy, lately... Feeling something yet?"
Slowly, Alex's proproception was blooming. She obviously had her own body, but like any other physically-independent dryad, could also sense her Tree's tingling as her greater sense of Self expanded - and shadows began to be perceptible at the edges of her awareness. A map of Hope's fungal network, intermingled with the city's old, gaslight-era and dryad-adapted prosthetic elements was the sense that Hell had touched onto a different kind of darkness, something that the Black Goat, in his deluded state, thought he could harness.
And there there were - the darker reaches of the network. Jack's own sense of Pickman's Sound, handshaking with Alex's notion of the city through what remained of Sophia's, triggering the ghost of old feelings in the younger dryad.
Hope. Self-confidence. Anger. Anger at the city's officials for not planning decades in advance. Friendship mixed with a touch of resentment - the lingering doubt that perhaps, those she'd counted on to defend the city hadn't done enough. Fear. The faint ghost of terror - and fury. How to turn graceful vines into thorns, how to turn sap into poison, how to deliberately taint the life-giving earth that sustained her so that nothing of Hell's reaches could ever find purchase here, even at the risk of turning a grove into a dead heath, or turning a spring of freshwater black with ill intent made manifest. The only thing that held that darkness at bay was the sense that for Sophia, this had been utilitarian, and nothing else. It was obvious, in how Alex had been able to take up her mantle so easily. Sophia hadn't used a Scorched Earth policy; she'd merely made it obvious that even beyond her death, Hope's denizens were here, and thriving - at her leisure.
And now, that sense of control was Alex's - and it reached out to Jack's even darker roots. If someone had asked a Fae what happens to a dryad if it knows far too much trauma, Jack Green would've been the answer. His fields were fertile - full to bursting with fruits and vegetables that nobody could reach, that rotted on their branches and fell to black, rich soil crisscrossed with cilia-like fungi and vines covered in daggerpoint-like barbs. Pickman's Sound was ignoring a battle it would soon have to face, with a re-wilded expanse driven by the will of a nature spirit that had lost all faith in the locals.
A green tide.
Amidst it all, worrying about the other Machae felt almost ridiculous. Still, Sophia would sense that Jack's green tide wasn't set on bursting free yet. It worked underground, burrowed further downwards instead of up towards the sky - keeping up appearances. She'd have a flash of the farm, as seen from an on-road approach: placid, lush, green. The only tells were the absence of seasonal workers, and of the other local farmers, who could only cast worried looks towards the old Green farm.
As for Vernon's concerns, being able to turn all of this new perceptual power to her desired use would allow her to see that in a corner of Solita, in the shadow of Weasel Biggs' tower, some of the Little People and of their Sidhe cousins were trying to channel old druidic magic, to bestow strength and cunning upon their favored champion... What that promised, however, was anyone's guess so far.
Seeing this unfold through Alex's expressions, the Winter Lord gave her a querying glance. "And? Have you gleaned anything, my dear?"
* * *
Polite applause followed, with Hengist raising his hand.
"We are gathered here today to renew Faerie's bonds with the mortal plane, and most of your socializing would suffice as a show of commitment. However, we are called to celebrate the dawning of a new era.
Amongst you are men and women - all seemingly mortal - who welcomed today's auspicious opportunity to Choose among their own peers. In the face of our loss, Lady Scatha and I have agreed: Changelings of this new world must be bound not simply by Oath or choice, but by magic as well, so that our bonds may be strenghtened."
The stained-glass doors behind the quartet opened fully, exposing a massive garden pavilion, lush with selected flora - and housing the largest tree to ever harbor a Nexus in Earth and Faerie alike. The arcane radiation was strong enough for Silas, Zeb and a few other lichs' bones in the crowd to glow with a faint blue light. Coach's eyelights momentarily winked out as he took in a deep breath, his glow briefly intensifying. For a moment, he didn't need a strong emotional affect for werelight to sketch out his old human features, and lifted a hand to inspect his lambent bones, light sketching out the contours of fingernails he hadn't seen in lifetimes.
"Changelings - please step forward."
A smattering of younger men and women did as indicated, leaving the throng of guests to briefly stand in the front row. Scatha and Hengist stepped slightly apart, inviting the young ones to form a line as they passed between them. It didn't take long for the basin's waters to be heard quietly sloshing, and for luxuiating sighs to be heard as via suffused the Changelings, turning them into Sidhe of full lineage. As they walked out of the basin and stepped forward again, mostly unchanged if not for a few aesthetic details in their facial proportions or the presence or absence of pointed pinna, more measured applause followed. The aspirants, for the most part, were overcome with emotion and smiled or wept openly, returning to loved ones to hug them fiercely, or kiss them with abandon. Scatha watched this unfold with an approving smile, and then turned to Titania, who nodded.
"London - Caer Lundein - and all of Faerie - we give you new blood!"
The applause that followed was a bit stronger, but something was still waiting to outclass even this event. Oberon then stepped forward.
"Milords and ladies; you know me. You know my charge. I take the elderly, the sick, the infirm, the truly wretched - and offer to them the Hearth's fire. There is one of you, tonight, who is worthy of such an honor."
Along the side of the hall, a massive fireplace sprung to life with a single whoosh of rushing flame. Its heat was stronger than anything any mere fireplace could've produced, but Meris and the others would observe as the Fae - or namely those allied with Oberon and Titania - seemed to be drawn to it. The closer to the Hearth they stepped, the more their eyes gleamed and the more their smiles widened. To Nereus, it almost looked like the Mad Arts' incipient madness, but it didn't spring out of despair, unlike what he was used to. This fire, the parent of Eien-No-Yuki's own braziers and cooking fires, was cheer in its purest form, and its strength was such that even Nereus, who didn't feel particularly drawn to it, still felt the urge to let his eyelids droop, the way you would after spending a while next to a cozy fireplace.
"Azazel," asked Oberon. "Step forward."
Looking as unsure as ever, the scarred former Scapegoat limped forward, rubbing his wrists that still bore the scars of his old manacles. "I don't mean to be impolite, but I've had my fill of fire."
Oberon smiled tightly and nodded. "I know, boy. All I'll ask you to do is to stand next to the Hearth. The Tree is going to be of more help to you, if I'm honest. However, Hell's made you brittle. We need you soft, again. Pliable. Not to manipulate you, but to allow you to grow. As you aren't just a demon, Azazel. You've fought with Blue Chimeras before, haven't you?"
Azazel briefly looked for Aspasia in the crowd, then nodded. Oberon seemed appreciative. "The man who calls himself their Father never earned that right. From a purely genetic point of view, Azazel; you are the closest thing to Aspasia's natural progenitor. Before standing before me as a demon, you actually stand before me as the last of the Wyldfae's Fauns. There are... fragments of you inside her, inside of every modern Faun. It's Titania and I's hope that the globe's oldest Nexus could help you; restore your bonds to the World's Breath. Maybe, in turn, once you're made whole, you'll be able to contribute something for her kind."
Azazel nodded hesitantly. "What do I need to do?"
Oberon parted an arm. "Just come and stand next to me for a few moments - right by the fire.
- What can I expect?"
The Winter King smiled. "Warmth. Warmth like love. Like life itself. Like a filled belly, like the joyous pain of having laughed or shouted yourself hoarse during a party. You might feel yourself going mad, but I'm not going to let the Hearth take you all to itself. You're not destined to become another Krampus. You're to be given joy - tempered with all our wisdom."
The demon hesitated. "Will the pain go away?"
Titania smiled. "With the warmth of the Hearth and the Tree's spring, Hell's purchase over you should be loosened. You'll be rid of them, Azazel. Finally."
That seemed to be enough to draw tears from the Faun, who nodded, stepped forward - and ignored Oberon's arms, to willingly step past the mantle and into the burning pyre. Where you could've expected screaming to follow, there came a shout of sudden surprise that changed to a shy chuckle, a slightly bolder laugh - and as the flames engulfed him, Azazel laughed openly and with jolly abandonment, the language of his years spent with the last Fauns rising out of him unbidden.
"Brothers, sisters - I see you! Those who cursed us were wrong, I can feel you! You were received in the Maker's arms! You were blessed! The Goat took us in, twisted us - and it was all for naught! You are dancing in Mother Earth's fields!"
Azazel, how a blazing human-shaped torch, stepped out of the Hearth. Where anyone else would've been screaming, he merely laughed and bounded around the space immediately in front of the fireplace. If this fire had been natural, his flesh would've been practically melted away, by now. Instead, the reverse seemed to happen, as his flesh glistened like wax - only to heal as the flames licked it. His fur turned denser, each hair a lit wick, and his dried-out horns fell off of his head. Like in a time-lapse video, the fuzzy capsules of new horn buds emerged from his skull, rapidly turning into new, lighter and longer horns than before. Chuckling, Oberon took the blazing faun's hand.
"Focus, Azazel. You're almost done. The iron of your flesh needs to be tempered, now."
It took a few seconds, but mindless glee left the former demon's face by degrees, and he eventually nodded. Still blazing, his flames not catching on anyone or anything else, he stepped towards Titania, Hengist and Scatha. The dryad and Summer Queen nodded, smiled, took his hands and guided him down into the Tree's basin, his fire winking out as smoke engulfed him and the air was filled with the hiss of cooling material. Still, he didn't scream, and only sighed as the Changelings had done. By the time he sank completely down into the basin, the Tree's alcove was filled with smoke and smelled faintly of something strange: instead of burning flesh, the event had produced a single and strong note of Brimstone that had fallen away almost immediately, almost giving way to something like the scent of burning sweetgrass.
Three couldn't quite keep himself. "Will he be alright?" he asked.
Scatha nodded. "Patience, friends. The Tree has to undo millennia of abuse, chip away at Evil as old as History itself. The Hearth made it brittle, now the World's Breath has to seep through the cracks, as it were - slough off old skin to make way for the new."
-
TennyoCeres84
- Site Admin
- Posts: 2935
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:59 am
Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Aspasia's lips parted slightly as Coach's bones gained a faint lambent blue to them after the increase in via. Most of the time, she had only seen his human features when his emotions were running on high. His features became even more pronounced than she had ever seen them.
Miranda was also mildly taken by surprise, given the level of detail in her father's face and hands. She could see how much his genes had influenced her appearance.
Meris smiled as they watched the Changelings approach the basin and step into it, hearing their collective sighs. Hanako watched contentedly as the transformation occurred for the new Fae.
As Azazel spoke with Oberon, Aspasia noted his searching for her in the crowd and smiled reassuringly. However, the Winter King's statement about the Scapegoat being the true Progenitor of the Blue Chimeras caused her to noticeably still. She knew that she likely shared some genetic material with him, but this was an entirely new perspective she hadn't considered.
Internally, it felt like a chain that still somewhat connected her to the manipulative T-Rex had snapped suddenly. Outwardly, the former commander gulped hard as did her best to control the flooding of mixed emotions. Coach would notice a few tears slip down her cheeks, which were then quickly dabbed away.
While she didn't have the same relationship to Rendell, Miranda understood that this connection Azazel shared with them went far deeper than the false memories and machinations the megalomaniac had forced on the older fauness during her time with him. She discreetly held her mother's hand and watched as Azazel was encouraged to stand near the hearthfire in order to be rid of Hell's influence.
Both satyresses could feel his growing joy as the enormous blaze broke through the abuses and softened him. Even as the fire licked at his body, he obviously wasn't in pain and appeared even healthier since they had first met him. The way he rejoiced in his old tongue and bounded about the area conveyed the transformation he was undergoing.
The last step of his change made it tempting to hold their respective breaths until he would emerge from the waters, knowing that he would be irrevocably different from the scrawny and skittish young man they had met on the battlefield. How exactly the basin's tempering would alter him had them both waiting nervously and eagerly.
***
Over the course of the process, Alex's eyes had drifted shut to limit external stimuli due to the immense amount of information she was receiving, but she was still able to listen and respond to Vernon and Francis.
As she felt the ghostly feelings from her sister's fungal network, she lightly grimaced, and some vine tendrils loosened from her partial updo, hanging despondently and limply around her face. The younger dryad knew that Sophia cared deeply about the city and its residents, understanding why this had likely prevented her from becoming tainted like Jack had. The knowledge of how to taint vines, waterways, and the land itself to hinder any demonic ingress was now hers.
While she could sense the more positive emotions she felt in Sophia's relationship with the city, there was the notable pangs of resentment, anger, and fear toward even those she had trusted to help her defend the city. Could there have been more they could have done? Could the mayors and other city employees have avoided this outcome had they worked preemptively with her? However, her love and care eventually came with something of a quid pro quo; their continued stability rested on Sophia's and now her own magnanimity.
As her new range of awareness reached Pickman's Sound, the loosened tendrils bristled at the tainted juxtapositon on Jack's farm. The crops presented a wholly benign facade while the corruption slinked further and further into the earth, like it was living off its own festering wound. It felt like a cruel joke to anyone who might want some of the ripe fruit there. However, the clear signs of no seasonal workers and the worried concern emitted from the regional farmers was telling enough.
However, the green tide didn't seem to be a threat for now, like it was waiting for the right moment to attack. Pickman's Sound was in for a conflict they were conveniently ignoring as the facade was working for now. Where Sophia had enough faith to prevent her wrath from overwhelming the city, Jack's total lack of faith was a time bomb waiting to detonate. Whenever the conflict would arise, she was doubtful she'd be able to reason with him. That didn't bode well with her new role as a guardian.
As her mind expanded toward Solita, Alex frowned with some frustration at what she sensed from the Little People and the Sidhe. She assumed they were trying to strengthen MacHae somehow with older magic, but given that she was just acquiring this new awareness, what did that entail for the Nexus? She couldn't say for sure as her hair swayed and twitched like a cat's tail while assessing a situation.
With Vernon's answer, she sighed and partly opened her eyes while still concentrating. "Things aren't great right now. I've inherited a kill switch from Sophia that would prevent a demonic takeover of the natural resources."
"However, Old Jack's farm feels like it's biding its time before it drops the facade. No one's working there, and there's palpable worry from the farmers. Any crops there are some of the most fecund and tantalizing produce you could imagine, but harvesting them would be a fool's errand. They're literally rotting on the vine and then being used as fertilizer. It's a green tide that hasn't hit its peak yet."
She pointed in the direction of Biggs' tower. "From what I could see, there's a group of Little People and Sidhe attempting to channel old druidic magic for the aim of bequeathing strength and cunning on their champion. What that actually means, I can't say yet. My guess is they probably don't feel assured he can defeat you without whatever power they're trying to garner. While Machae is a threat, Old Jack poses a much larger one that could start whenever he feels the opportunity is right. At the same time, it doesn't feel like as immediate a danger as Machae does."
Miranda was also mildly taken by surprise, given the level of detail in her father's face and hands. She could see how much his genes had influenced her appearance.
Meris smiled as they watched the Changelings approach the basin and step into it, hearing their collective sighs. Hanako watched contentedly as the transformation occurred for the new Fae.
As Azazel spoke with Oberon, Aspasia noted his searching for her in the crowd and smiled reassuringly. However, the Winter King's statement about the Scapegoat being the true Progenitor of the Blue Chimeras caused her to noticeably still. She knew that she likely shared some genetic material with him, but this was an entirely new perspective she hadn't considered.
Internally, it felt like a chain that still somewhat connected her to the manipulative T-Rex had snapped suddenly. Outwardly, the former commander gulped hard as did her best to control the flooding of mixed emotions. Coach would notice a few tears slip down her cheeks, which were then quickly dabbed away.
While she didn't have the same relationship to Rendell, Miranda understood that this connection Azazel shared with them went far deeper than the false memories and machinations the megalomaniac had forced on the older fauness during her time with him. She discreetly held her mother's hand and watched as Azazel was encouraged to stand near the hearthfire in order to be rid of Hell's influence.
Both satyresses could feel his growing joy as the enormous blaze broke through the abuses and softened him. Even as the fire licked at his body, he obviously wasn't in pain and appeared even healthier since they had first met him. The way he rejoiced in his old tongue and bounded about the area conveyed the transformation he was undergoing.
The last step of his change made it tempting to hold their respective breaths until he would emerge from the waters, knowing that he would be irrevocably different from the scrawny and skittish young man they had met on the battlefield. How exactly the basin's tempering would alter him had them both waiting nervously and eagerly.
***
Over the course of the process, Alex's eyes had drifted shut to limit external stimuli due to the immense amount of information she was receiving, but she was still able to listen and respond to Vernon and Francis.
As she felt the ghostly feelings from her sister's fungal network, she lightly grimaced, and some vine tendrils loosened from her partial updo, hanging despondently and limply around her face. The younger dryad knew that Sophia cared deeply about the city and its residents, understanding why this had likely prevented her from becoming tainted like Jack had. The knowledge of how to taint vines, waterways, and the land itself to hinder any demonic ingress was now hers.
While she could sense the more positive emotions she felt in Sophia's relationship with the city, there was the notable pangs of resentment, anger, and fear toward even those she had trusted to help her defend the city. Could there have been more they could have done? Could the mayors and other city employees have avoided this outcome had they worked preemptively with her? However, her love and care eventually came with something of a quid pro quo; their continued stability rested on Sophia's and now her own magnanimity.
As her new range of awareness reached Pickman's Sound, the loosened tendrils bristled at the tainted juxtapositon on Jack's farm. The crops presented a wholly benign facade while the corruption slinked further and further into the earth, like it was living off its own festering wound. It felt like a cruel joke to anyone who might want some of the ripe fruit there. However, the clear signs of no seasonal workers and the worried concern emitted from the regional farmers was telling enough.
However, the green tide didn't seem to be a threat for now, like it was waiting for the right moment to attack. Pickman's Sound was in for a conflict they were conveniently ignoring as the facade was working for now. Where Sophia had enough faith to prevent her wrath from overwhelming the city, Jack's total lack of faith was a time bomb waiting to detonate. Whenever the conflict would arise, she was doubtful she'd be able to reason with him. That didn't bode well with her new role as a guardian.
As her mind expanded toward Solita, Alex frowned with some frustration at what she sensed from the Little People and the Sidhe. She assumed they were trying to strengthen MacHae somehow with older magic, but given that she was just acquiring this new awareness, what did that entail for the Nexus? She couldn't say for sure as her hair swayed and twitched like a cat's tail while assessing a situation.
With Vernon's answer, she sighed and partly opened her eyes while still concentrating. "Things aren't great right now. I've inherited a kill switch from Sophia that would prevent a demonic takeover of the natural resources."
"However, Old Jack's farm feels like it's biding its time before it drops the facade. No one's working there, and there's palpable worry from the farmers. Any crops there are some of the most fecund and tantalizing produce you could imagine, but harvesting them would be a fool's errand. They're literally rotting on the vine and then being used as fertilizer. It's a green tide that hasn't hit its peak yet."
She pointed in the direction of Biggs' tower. "From what I could see, there's a group of Little People and Sidhe attempting to channel old druidic magic for the aim of bequeathing strength and cunning on their champion. What that actually means, I can't say yet. My guess is they probably don't feel assured he can defeat you without whatever power they're trying to garner. While Machae is a threat, Old Jack poses a much larger one that could start whenever he feels the opportunity is right. At the same time, it doesn't feel like as immediate a danger as Machae does."
-
IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3713
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
"So you should stay the course," noted the cobra. Jack's still of the Fae, he'll give us a heads-up before doing anything rash. I can pop by Jack's the old-fashioned way - by car - if I need to keep an eye on him. If I don't step on his premises, he has no cause to do anything rash."
He stood up and dusted soil from his pants. "As for Machae, you're not without options. Although, for someone as Victorian as your father, they might seem a bit... outmoded."
Vernon gave Amazo a quizzical look. "What do you have in mind?"
"A physical exam. A druidic physical exam, to be precise. Let the Lyle Machae camp wrangle minor nature spirits to their cause all they want; if a druid - or a dryad - sees no fault in you, no physical or metaphysical flaw in your character that could invalidate your status as Winter Lord, and it happens in full view of the public, then your rival will lose his claim."
Vernon looked down at himself, smiling awkwardly. "I, er, I'm afraid that I bear the marks of my stature. My vices are well-known - and are excused as part of my Mantle, but-"
Amazo gestured dismissively. "Nobody's expecting you to take up a superhero's training regime, Milord. Some previous men who held Oberon's name had fairly massive bellies - or else we wouldn't have Santa Claus' modern iconography. Your paunch and your receding chin won't be a problem; power's never been in a relation of causation with physical prowess, in the Fae. I've seen Fae athletes who could barely stir up a breeze and morbidly obese members of either court who could punch through concrete walls. If Alex attests to your worthiness in full view of your half of Evergloam - and does so in the Old Ways - then Machae's claim won't have a leg to stand on. You'll lose some votes in formal dissent - but you'll keep your chair."
* * *
As you could've expected, steam rose from the water as soon as Azazel was engulfed in the basin, the attending dryad pausing to give Hengist a look that briefly conveyed discomfort. The Green Knight placed a hand on her shoulder; as it stood to reason that she could feel how intensive the Nexus' effect on Azazel would be.
Curiously, the arm that slowly emerged from the basin was clothed, in what looked to be green velvet and gold filigree. The hand was gloved, the shape of the fingertips suggesting claws were waiting underneath the gloves' reinforced tips. His horns then followed, now tan-colored with what looked to be gold inserts in the horns' keratin - and then came the face. Pale fur, glowing green eyes that bore into the crowd - and reverse-jointed legs clad in the same green and gold. Of the Scapegoat, all that remained was a small ornamental chain that was hooked to his right breast, in light silver.
The glee he'd showed had seemingly evaporated, and he instead gave the assembly a steady look, with the faintest trace of a smile. Oberon looked surprised, but Hengist didn't, instead turning to face the newcomer.
"What is thy name, friend?"
The Faun stepped out of the basin, revealing the pastoral waistcoat and white shirt he also wore, the last few buttons kept opened to reveal a bit of a ruff of tan fur at the base of his neck.
"I've had many names," he then said. "The humans called me Fiend, the demons themselves called me Azazel. You took me to the fairest of all springs and had it remake me. Despite Winter's kind gifts, what calls to me is Summer."
He walked past the leaders' thrones and approached the assembly. "Call me Puck. Call me Robin. Call me Azazel or Basil Greenleaf - it matters little. I am the living rememberance of the role Fauns occupied before mistrust and vitriol spelled their doom. The last one of my kind, before their rebirth at the favor of Science. Of Summer I may be, but I shall not bring about the Fauns' return on my lonesome."
Titania connected a few dots. "You haven't claimed alleigiance to Summer.
- I cannot. I am of the Wilds, my fair Queen. I bow to Summer and Winter alike, but claim neither. My alliegiance is to those of my kind who shall awaken to their true selves - and to peace and prosperity between our peoples and mortals."
From the look of things, he was expected to stay in the front rows, but instead walked back towards Aspasia, his posture slackening slightly.
"Remember what Meris learned through the toymaker, and what you learned through Ahriman, Aspasia. The answers you're looking for are in Greece; and they'll both be far less and much more than you're expecting them to be. You are a Faun, same as I am - just slightly less aware of it. I can't promise wisdom or power, or even complete freedom from Rendell's legacy - all that my tribe had that was different from you was a grasp on magic, a unique communion with nature spirits and dryads. It took one of us to save the starving Orcadians, for instance - and to create the first selkies. Aislinn and Neasa's people's saved themselves, but..."
He reached out and gently grasped one of Aspasia's hands. "It took one of us to point the way, to display the wisdom and mischief needed to twist a curse into a blessing."
He stood up and dusted soil from his pants. "As for Machae, you're not without options. Although, for someone as Victorian as your father, they might seem a bit... outmoded."
Vernon gave Amazo a quizzical look. "What do you have in mind?"
"A physical exam. A druidic physical exam, to be precise. Let the Lyle Machae camp wrangle minor nature spirits to their cause all they want; if a druid - or a dryad - sees no fault in you, no physical or metaphysical flaw in your character that could invalidate your status as Winter Lord, and it happens in full view of the public, then your rival will lose his claim."
Vernon looked down at himself, smiling awkwardly. "I, er, I'm afraid that I bear the marks of my stature. My vices are well-known - and are excused as part of my Mantle, but-"
Amazo gestured dismissively. "Nobody's expecting you to take up a superhero's training regime, Milord. Some previous men who held Oberon's name had fairly massive bellies - or else we wouldn't have Santa Claus' modern iconography. Your paunch and your receding chin won't be a problem; power's never been in a relation of causation with physical prowess, in the Fae. I've seen Fae athletes who could barely stir up a breeze and morbidly obese members of either court who could punch through concrete walls. If Alex attests to your worthiness in full view of your half of Evergloam - and does so in the Old Ways - then Machae's claim won't have a leg to stand on. You'll lose some votes in formal dissent - but you'll keep your chair."
* * *
As you could've expected, steam rose from the water as soon as Azazel was engulfed in the basin, the attending dryad pausing to give Hengist a look that briefly conveyed discomfort. The Green Knight placed a hand on her shoulder; as it stood to reason that she could feel how intensive the Nexus' effect on Azazel would be.
Curiously, the arm that slowly emerged from the basin was clothed, in what looked to be green velvet and gold filigree. The hand was gloved, the shape of the fingertips suggesting claws were waiting underneath the gloves' reinforced tips. His horns then followed, now tan-colored with what looked to be gold inserts in the horns' keratin - and then came the face. Pale fur, glowing green eyes that bore into the crowd - and reverse-jointed legs clad in the same green and gold. Of the Scapegoat, all that remained was a small ornamental chain that was hooked to his right breast, in light silver.
The glee he'd showed had seemingly evaporated, and he instead gave the assembly a steady look, with the faintest trace of a smile. Oberon looked surprised, but Hengist didn't, instead turning to face the newcomer.
"What is thy name, friend?"
The Faun stepped out of the basin, revealing the pastoral waistcoat and white shirt he also wore, the last few buttons kept opened to reveal a bit of a ruff of tan fur at the base of his neck.
"I've had many names," he then said. "The humans called me Fiend, the demons themselves called me Azazel. You took me to the fairest of all springs and had it remake me. Despite Winter's kind gifts, what calls to me is Summer."
He walked past the leaders' thrones and approached the assembly. "Call me Puck. Call me Robin. Call me Azazel or Basil Greenleaf - it matters little. I am the living rememberance of the role Fauns occupied before mistrust and vitriol spelled their doom. The last one of my kind, before their rebirth at the favor of Science. Of Summer I may be, but I shall not bring about the Fauns' return on my lonesome."
Titania connected a few dots. "You haven't claimed alleigiance to Summer.
- I cannot. I am of the Wilds, my fair Queen. I bow to Summer and Winter alike, but claim neither. My alliegiance is to those of my kind who shall awaken to their true selves - and to peace and prosperity between our peoples and mortals."
From the look of things, he was expected to stay in the front rows, but instead walked back towards Aspasia, his posture slackening slightly.
"Remember what Meris learned through the toymaker, and what you learned through Ahriman, Aspasia. The answers you're looking for are in Greece; and they'll both be far less and much more than you're expecting them to be. You are a Faun, same as I am - just slightly less aware of it. I can't promise wisdom or power, or even complete freedom from Rendell's legacy - all that my tribe had that was different from you was a grasp on magic, a unique communion with nature spirits and dryads. It took one of us to save the starving Orcadians, for instance - and to create the first selkies. Aislinn and Neasa's people's saved themselves, but..."
He reached out and gently grasped one of Aspasia's hands. "It took one of us to point the way, to display the wisdom and mischief needed to twist a curse into a blessing."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
As Azazel emerged from the spring, his transformation left the satyresses awestruck. The former Scapegoat had been completely transformed from his previously wretched form to one that befitted the Fauns' nobility. The greens and golds of his garments conveyed his connections to nature, with only the delicate chain hinting at his past existence.
With the handful of names, it felt that perhaps multiple influences had remade the Faun to his true nature. With the reference to being the living remembrance of the Fauns' role, it seemed her hunch was correct.
Aspasia expected him to head to the front seats with the Changelings, but then he approached her and spoke to her.
She smiled thoughtfully, albeit marked by some hesitation, and nodded. "I figured Greece would most likely be my destination for that part of my life's journey. I don't expect to be bequeathed with massive boons. Wisdom's seldom freely given; it's earned. Power's something I haven't really been interested in since my departure from Rendell, and as much as I'd like to, I know you're right that I won't be able to completely separate myself from his legacy, as difficult as that can be at times."
"I mainly want to reconnect with that part of me that's felt like it's missing. Any time I've been able to connect with it, like when I healed Dame Urakawa's father, it felt like there was a haze keeping me from fully feeling that part of myself. It's gotten clearer with time and experience, but..."
After he grasped her hand, she paused and eyed him curiously. "I assume you're referring to the Fauns' roles as guides for those who need that nudge in the right direction, so they can free themselves from whatever plight they're going through. What your purpose will be for me and the other Fauns," she mused, also including Miranda in a glance after she returned to looking at him.
***
Regarding Jack, the tree spirit let out a sigh of relief. She wasn't ready to face him just yet, and she was eased by the fact that that they would receive some warning from the pumpkin-headed dryad. They could now focus on the situation with Vernon's rival.
At Francis' suggestion of a druidic physical exam, Alex stepped off the patch of prepared earth and considered it. "I think that will pacify Machae and his entourage's concerns about your physical and metaphysical abilities, not that it's really a concern to begin with. You're plenty capable."
She recalled the initial challenge from the Changeling and what had seemed to be the collective issue behind the ordeal. "What triggered their doubts in you is the fact you're in a relationship with Eirean and that it goes beyond a simple fling. Clancy Muggs, one of Machae's entourage, stated plainly that Vernon steered too far in the wrong direction for Machae's taste and doesn't like the company he keeps."
"They probably think your love for her made you soft. However, I know that's not accurate. I've seen the best of Summer and Winter in the eighteen years you raised me. That fierceness within you hasn't lost its edge."
The dryad clicked her tongue. "Not only that, but you had as much involvement in raising me as Eirean did. I'd like to see Machae do that! Not all Fae are meant to plant a dryad and rear them to maturity. It's still an arduous task for anyone, and you both came through with flying colors! I'm a Summer dryad in my genes, but I belong to both Courts."
With the handful of names, it felt that perhaps multiple influences had remade the Faun to his true nature. With the reference to being the living remembrance of the Fauns' role, it seemed her hunch was correct.
Aspasia expected him to head to the front seats with the Changelings, but then he approached her and spoke to her.
She smiled thoughtfully, albeit marked by some hesitation, and nodded. "I figured Greece would most likely be my destination for that part of my life's journey. I don't expect to be bequeathed with massive boons. Wisdom's seldom freely given; it's earned. Power's something I haven't really been interested in since my departure from Rendell, and as much as I'd like to, I know you're right that I won't be able to completely separate myself from his legacy, as difficult as that can be at times."
"I mainly want to reconnect with that part of me that's felt like it's missing. Any time I've been able to connect with it, like when I healed Dame Urakawa's father, it felt like there was a haze keeping me from fully feeling that part of myself. It's gotten clearer with time and experience, but..."
After he grasped her hand, she paused and eyed him curiously. "I assume you're referring to the Fauns' roles as guides for those who need that nudge in the right direction, so they can free themselves from whatever plight they're going through. What your purpose will be for me and the other Fauns," she mused, also including Miranda in a glance after she returned to looking at him.
***
Regarding Jack, the tree spirit let out a sigh of relief. She wasn't ready to face him just yet, and she was eased by the fact that that they would receive some warning from the pumpkin-headed dryad. They could now focus on the situation with Vernon's rival.
At Francis' suggestion of a druidic physical exam, Alex stepped off the patch of prepared earth and considered it. "I think that will pacify Machae and his entourage's concerns about your physical and metaphysical abilities, not that it's really a concern to begin with. You're plenty capable."
She recalled the initial challenge from the Changeling and what had seemed to be the collective issue behind the ordeal. "What triggered their doubts in you is the fact you're in a relationship with Eirean and that it goes beyond a simple fling. Clancy Muggs, one of Machae's entourage, stated plainly that Vernon steered too far in the wrong direction for Machae's taste and doesn't like the company he keeps."
"They probably think your love for her made you soft. However, I know that's not accurate. I've seen the best of Summer and Winter in the eighteen years you raised me. That fierceness within you hasn't lost its edge."
The dryad clicked her tongue. "Not only that, but you had as much involvement in raising me as Eirean did. I'd like to see Machae do that! Not all Fae are meant to plant a dryad and rear them to maturity. It's still an arduous task for anyone, and you both came through with flying colors! I'm a Summer dryad in my genes, but I belong to both Courts."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Azazel smiled. "You're the only one who can give herself purpose, Aspasia. All I can offer is a strong suggestion, the idea that it would be better for all Chimeras if they found their roots."
Shyly, applause began to swell, until Titania spoke.
"There is another boon we'd like to impart. Nereus Marinos, if you would accept our offer, we would endeavor to see if contact with one of the oldest Nexuses in existence can further sever your old ties to the Others."
Being dumbstruck, Nereus blinked a few times and then looked back to Meris, as if expecting her to have processed things more clearly than he had.
Shyly, applause began to swell, until Titania spoke.
"There is another boon we'd like to impart. Nereus Marinos, if you would accept our offer, we would endeavor to see if contact with one of the oldest Nexuses in existence can further sever your old ties to the Others."
Being dumbstruck, Nereus blinked a few times and then looked back to Meris, as if expecting her to have processed things more clearly than he had.
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Aspasia smiled back, elated at the future possibilities of finding her roots. "I hope that can eventually come true for all of us," she responded.
With the initial applause, it seemed like the Nexus' part to play in the festivities were done, but there was obviously another surprise to happen.
Meris was equally surprised, but she then smiled joyfully at this prospect. "You heard Queen Titania correctly, Nereus. If you're willing, the links between you and the Others could be even less entwined. It's theoretically possible, with the Void Weavers' original connection to earthly cephalopods and all."
With the initial applause, it seemed like the Nexus' part to play in the festivities were done, but there was obviously another surprise to happen.
Meris was equally surprised, but she then smiled joyfully at this prospect. "You heard Queen Titania correctly, Nereus. If you're willing, the links between you and the Others could be even less entwined. It's theoretically possible, with the Void Weavers' original connection to earthly cephalopods and all."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Nereus gave Meris an expectant look and then refocused on Titania, shyly standing up. He kept his hands close to his chest, looking more like a timid plus-one lost in an assembly of dignitaries than a figure worthy of respect in his own right.
"This humbles me, My Queen, but if I might; I would rather friends and allies of mine followed me throughout this boon. Them - and my love, Meris. I am still tethered to beings that warrant the title of enemies, and your boon would absolutely be construed as a rebuke, by them. I would rather ensure no-one is harmed."
The Summer Queen nodded. "It shall be arranged. We will see to it after the reception, so you have time enough to prepare. Rest easy, any retraction would not jeopardize our amity."
Nereus sat back down, looking at least marginally reassured. Other declarations followed, other rounds of thanks and applause - and Three's voice touched the back of Meris' mind about half an hour later.
"Try not to stare, but there's a contingent of guards leading our fellow guests in the rear rows out of the hall. Leave it to the Fae to be discreet - I didn't spot anything and neither did Carrie. It's being done quietly, so this smacks of crowd control."
"This humbles me, My Queen, but if I might; I would rather friends and allies of mine followed me throughout this boon. Them - and my love, Meris. I am still tethered to beings that warrant the title of enemies, and your boon would absolutely be construed as a rebuke, by them. I would rather ensure no-one is harmed."
The Summer Queen nodded. "It shall be arranged. We will see to it after the reception, so you have time enough to prepare. Rest easy, any retraction would not jeopardize our amity."
Nereus sat back down, looking at least marginally reassured. Other declarations followed, other rounds of thanks and applause - and Three's voice touched the back of Meris' mind about half an hour later.
"Try not to stare, but there's a contingent of guards leading our fellow guests in the rear rows out of the hall. Leave it to the Fae to be discreet - I didn't spot anything and neither did Carrie. It's being done quietly, so this smacks of crowd control."