[ She hesitantly moves in, recalling how badly he reacted last time- but, she braves it and looks up at him, ears giving a light flick. ]
And a Radiant Matriarch like myself never breaks a promise!
[ She lifts her hand and tips his face up by the chin then. He really is far too tall- but she tries to catch his gaze with her own, giving him a small smile before she lowers her hand. ]
Come on, Sulky. Any smart man would be absolutely flattered to have a cute lady pay this much attention to them.
[ Sulky. She'd be sorry, but she is trying to lighten the mood a bit. ]
I think I know what to make for you, though. So you've got to be there for the party, now. And whatever all you've shared, I'll be able to record. My Tales of the Ancients have to be the best collection!
[ She smiles and leans back, moving her arms behind her back. ]
... how are you feeling?
[ She's asking for a reason, but she'll just make sure, first... ]
[ They forget when they leave...? Then what is the point to teaching any of them what he knows? He closes his eyes briefly, pulls in a deep breath, and as he lets it out his entire frame slumps.
It comes as no surprise that he absolutely disapproves of this new nickname. He makes it known with a deep frown. ]
...As well as I can be, considering that I have been made to tell this sorry tale yet again.
[ He has no qualms with answering questions, usually. But he would dearly love to rest. Not in the sense of sleeping - the more final kind.
Let me rest... ]
Must I go to this party of yours? I am not the festive sort.
[ And yet he feels an odd compulsion to do just that. A nagging feeling which squirms when he tries to resist. It is not so strong that he cannot ignore it (for now), however. ]
Wouldn't look too good without the best supervisor I've had in moons there, would it? Besides, folks are actually a lot better behaved during this time of year. Provided no city shite happens. Come with me.
[ Which they need to be prepared for. But, she finally does reach out and take him by both his hands, stepping back with a gentle tug. Strong or not, she doesn't use any force— but it's enough to at least encourage him to follow.
She leads him to the tent set up there— it is spacious enough to be a room, with enough height for comfortable seating, and with the surface pendant lighting dimmed with only the fairy lights on, it's pretty cozy.
She climbs on in as she lets go of his hands and sits up on her knees on the cushion layer— moving the plushies and blankets out of the way. The books at least are arranged tidily aside from where she has some on surfaces where she was reading, and she pats one of the cushion spaces there. ]
Come on. In you go. This is the Starlight Sanctuary. I don't bring just anyone in here.
[ Most people don't come up here and those that do aren't exactly allowed into this area. For being on a building rooftop, it's rather private. ]
Whenever your thoughts feel too loud, and your head feels too heavy, the Starlit Sanctuary makes it all better!
[ She chuckles and looks up at him, picking up a little plushie she was working on— a little hooded purple pudding with a funny face, and sets it on her lap. ]
Aye, aye, you can call it juvenile and foolish all you want, but it works. Things don't have to be complicated all the time, you know.
[ And she looks out in front of them where now, since they can't see most of the tall buildings and only a faint glow past the growing wall gardens and planters around the building railings— the stars actually look clearer compared to when the light pollution was interfering. ]
... And it doesn't hurt to have to look for the stars than seeing them right away.
[ She turns and holds up a little star shaped plushie at him then, covered in soft shimmering fabric, but very huggable! ]
See? This one's pretty! It ought to be, because I made it!
[ She holds it out to him then, watching him with a curious look. ]
How long has it been since you've gotten any rest? Real rest. You look like you haven't slept in an age.
[ The perpetually dour look he wears isn't much alleviated. He does allow her to lead him to the tent at least - the faux Amaurot fades away behind them - but he looks incredibly out of place amongst the childish yet homely surrounds. It is childish, and he tells her as much as he reluctantly takes the plush toy she holds out for him.
If nothing else, he can admit that the toys are well-made.
He doesn't really want to sit either but if he towered over before while upright then he certainly towers over her now while she's sitting down. So he lowers himself to the floor and sits cross-legged amongst the cushions. ]
I try not to sleep. There are dreams I would like to see as little as possible of.
[ Why even be making toys, in a place where there aren't any children anyway? There's an obvious answer but the other is it keeps her hands and mind busy, and not thinking of the family she doesn't have with her.
Though what he says makes her stop and look at him in surprise as she sits up on a set of cushion seats next to him, setting aside the pudding plush and watching him curiously. ]
Hold, you too? Huh. I've seen patients here that can't sleep because they're emotionally distressed. I've become a light sleeper here myself, but...
[ She leaves her own reasons out— again, not wanting to bring her problems to people who already seem to have enough on their own. Not unless asked, anyway. She's seen enough people who just back off after hearing them despite leaning on her when they need to unload, so she avoids it where she can and just puts them into her writing. ]
Do you have nightmares, Emmy? Have you tried anything for them?
[ Her medicine has helped, but she isn't offering just yet until she knows what's happening. ]
They are not nightmares which can be cured with a potion.
[ He says this firmly and with conviction. Well, he hasn't tried, that said, but... In his experience, magically induced dreams such as what he foolishly subjected himself to are akin to a curse. ]
It is not that I cannot sleep; it is that I do not wish to see the dreams which come with it.
[ His hands idly knead the plushie in his lap. It has been a while since he held one. ]
[ She's only prying because that's a strange thing to say. Despite his obvious state of melancholia— or really, depression in modern terms, which she's far too familiar with from the victims of conflict and war she's had to treat—
She wonders if there's something else to this. ]
Was it something here? LIES caused certain side effects in people in some of their filthy experiments, but—
[ She looks thoughtful. ]
How do you rest, then? Ancient or not, your body in this place still needs it, doesn't it? And after all this repetition of your memories... hells. What sort of nightmares do you have?
[ His eyes narrow and his lips thin. The toy is squeezed between his hands. ]
Another curious soul wished to know about my past. One with the power to make me relive the events every time I fall asleep. He watches and feeds off the fear, it seems.
This body is mortal, yes, and requires the usual amount of rest. But I've no wish to feed that man more than I can help it.
[ He's already woken Felih a few times. He hates to show how affected he is by the nightmares. He hates that he can do nothing except resent and lament his loss to the Warrior of Light. It's nothing he holds personally against them, yet...
He bares his teeth silently. ]
Never share unpleasant stories with the one known as the Archivist, [ he seethes. ] He can and will use it against you.
[ She's never heard of this person, but hearing that they went and did that to Emet-Selch is.. upsetting. It's like poking a hornet's nest, constantly— and that's never a good thing to attempt with someone who by his own admission, is willing to do what it takes to achieve his goal.
She's sure someone would call this deserved retribution but that's no one's right to judge in this place. It's not warranted, and her tail fur bristles a bit as she watches Emet-Selch. He's having a hard enough time already... ]
... that swiving shite. No one deserves that... this place is hell enough already.
[ The annoyance comes out in a rush of anger, but she looks thoughtful after that, ears drooping. ]
I'm sorry... I'd been noticing you seemed ill-rested. Have you tried anything to combat it?
[ It's a more clinical question— she's very focused as a healer, and constantly trying to find ways to help. ]
[ If he thought it would be worth the disciplinary action (and the enmity from the Archivist's allies) that he would almost certainly receive, he would make the man thoroughly regret what they'd done. However, he's no Lahabrea or Nabriales. His sort of retribution is a cold, calculated affair and it happens in the dark where no-one watches. He's content to fling harsh words and taunts for now and wait for the right moment to strike. ]
I've tried sleeping beneath the white trees. They have a rather calming presence and there seems to be magic in them. [ A shrug. He hunches over, bringing up his knees and hugging the plush toy to his chest. ] It did little to help.
[ In the dim light, the shadows beneath his eyes seem even darker than ever. How many hours has it been since he last slept, again? He forces his eyes to remain open despite the temptation to keel over on the cushions. ]
[ Having a constantly active mind, she's busy trying to go through whatever she recalls regarding sleep and nightmares. There were some books she might have slipped away when studying conjury, but she didn't risk attempting anything big from them all. Though her other tribesmaidens certainly did...
Her left ear flicks as he talks though she is noticing that he's getting drowsy. It is late, the lights are dim... if she can see how long he does sleep, maybe she can figure out how to work on something that could help him from going into a dream state.
Would that even help? She wonders, but... barring talking to this "Archivist" herself, she only has her ideas to try, and it's better than doing nothing.
Well, Emet-Selch has little to lose here, and if it helps him, she could help others in the same position. For science, then. ]
No medicine, or anything of the sort? Would you like to try some, sometime? See if it helps at all.
[ She slides back a bit, reaching behind her to discreetly take a hold of her one-handed wand from her belt. ]
The medicine here only induces a state of sleep. Alchemy is a foreign practice to them it seems. Their science in all matters pertaining to the mundane is sound, yet they are ignorant of the arcane.
[ Yes, yes, it is wonderful and amazing the applications they have found for all their technology. Nothing they have, however, can induce and maintain a dreamless sleep.
He is too tired to notice her movement hides an ulterior motive. ]
Maybe we could figure something out. I use my knowledge of the arcane and medicine together, you know. Even worked out how to combat one of their own drugs with our own...
[ That's not a lie, either. For a bit, they had figured out how to combat the Slut Center drugs, though that was a group effort. It's not actually in circulation now, sadly, but... she keeps her movements out of his peripheral vision, and begins to summon up a spell that's quite basic and familiar. ]
I will need you to rest, though. So I can figure out what would work for you in the amount of time you can rest. A little bit of repose?
[ No sooner is the word uttered, that a faint aetherial glow from her wand, now being used as a focus as she channels the spell and— there! A wave of aetherial energy is sent right at him, with calming and sleep-inducing effects, one they use on some difficult patients to shut down their activity so they can be healed easily—
Menphina's Tits, please let this work on an Ascian!! ]
[ It is a subtle spell yet he can hardly fail to sense it at this proximity once it manifests. He stiffens, head jerking around just in time to see the spell splash against him and dissipate into little aetheric whorls.
He shoots her a dirty look. ]
Really? [ he asks indignantly. ] If you think that a weak bit of magic like that will put me to sleep--
[ But a yawn interrupts his sentence, startling him. He wavers and starts to list, feeling the familiar pull of sleep which has been made to wait too long. Indignity gives way to a small bout of panic. Impossible - he shouldn't be taken down by something so simple as a sleep spell.
He utters a weak protest, struggling to keep his eyelids open as his mortal vessel succumbs. He's unconscious even before he unceremoniously topples on to his side into the laid out cushions, mouth still parted in surprise.
She's lucky he had been nearing his limit on how long he could continuously stay awake. ]
[ What he will find is her looking like a catte caught with her paw in the fish tank— and a cheeky little grin that's asking "what? I did nothing!" But even she's surprised when she sees him yawn. Gods be good...
And there he goes, toppling down, and she quickly sets her wand back to stare at him in surprise. ]
Bloody hells, it worked.
[ She can't help but think he looks adorable this way, though. So, sorry Emmy... she might be tempted to take a picture of him snoozing, but first things first. She carefully lifts him as best as she can and bridal carries him over to the back of the tent where her assigned sleeping space is. There are blankets there, and she moves to cover him up a lighter one, though she pauses and picks up the star plushie she gave him and sets it back in his arms.
( Sleep as long as you can. I'll figure something out. That's what the Radiant Matriarch does, after all! )
She smiles to herself and maybe snaps a cute shot, before she gently brushes his hair back off his face, and shuts his mouth carefully— no need to give him a dry mouth, before moving away quietly. Stealthy like a catte, always, and she dims the lights and pulls down the "door" of the Starlit Sanctuary as she slips out. There's enough ambient light inside for when he wakes, but there should be enough calming white noise around for him to at least rest peacefully.
She'll just stay out here and look through the books on her device in the mean time until a nightmare wakes him. Technology is pretty amazing! ]
Sorry, Emmy. Can't let you burn out on my watch.
[ He might fight in more subtle ways, but she has her own way of doing it. She just hopes something can be worked out. ]
[ For a couple of hours, nothing but peaceful silence reigns within the tent.
Then the whimpering begins. Soft words uttered in a foreign language which her Echo may or may not allow her to understand. 'No,' he says repeatedly. There's faint rustling as he shifts restlessly in place, breath coming short and shallow. He calls out other names, quietly, earnestly, finishing on a pitiful whimper. Attempts to wake him do not succeed. Trapped in a nightmare that will not free him until it is done, he tosses and turns fitfully. His teeth grind and his lips pull back into a snarl. The star plushie is unconsciously clutched tightly to his chest, squeezed to within an inch of its life.
The last name he murmurs sounds forlorn and desperate. Yet just as she may be leaning forward to try and catch it, he suddenly shouts. ]
No!
[ His eyes fly open and he lurches upright, hand flung out to grasp at something (someone) only he can see. Heart pounding, light sweat beading his brow, Emet-Selch shudders as the nightmare slowly loosen their grasp on his psyche and slips back into the dark. His hand drops to his side; his head bows.
[ As planned, she stays awake the entire time, tending to her garden and going to check on her tomes that aren't in the tent. Her hearing is sharp enough that she will hear shifting and noises—
So when that strange language starts up, she begins to feel all too aware that it's not whatever they're speaking here. It almost sounds... no, she can't even place what it is, she's never heard anything like it. And the fact that she could understand it, much like how she comprehended dragons back home..
That's when she moves in to check, hearing him as he starts to murmur and she blinks in surprise at his motions. He definitely looks like he's in pain, and she keeps a distance until he looks like he's having a hard time getting up.
( That dastard who did this to him... ) she thinks, feeling troubled as she watches, though the cold water and towels were already prepared, and when he sits up, she quickly moves to place a hand on his back. ]
Breathe. It's alright now. You're fine...
[ She shifts so that she can look at him properly, waiting for him to compose himself. ]
... you were trapped in that and fighting to awaken. How are you feeling?
[ She's raised the light a little so they can see each other but not too much. ]
[ He swallows down the bitter truth that he wishes to speak, the resurgence of anger towards Hydaelyn he feels, the despair of being one of the last, true members of his people - and no longer that, even. There is no longer fire raining from the sky or a sea of blood swelling at the shore. There is no Light but neither is there Dark. He is alone.
A hand creeps up to clutch his chest. He almost chokes under the weight. ]
Why...
[ His voice is hoarse. He clears his throat and directs a hollow glare towards her. ]
Why did you put me to sleep? After I told you only nightmares awaited me there.
Because you were going to whether or not I did it! Didn't you see how tired you were?!
[ She speaks firmly, though she keeps her hand on his back, her expression pained. ]
I think I've found a way to help. I was hoping I could do it while you slept, but it might take more work than that. Knowing how long you could get rest was vital...
[ She turns to quickly pour him some water which has some herbal infusions to clear a headache. ]
Here. Drink it. I'm sorry... I didn't want to make you suffer, but if we're going to fight this, I need you to trust me, Emmy. You can't keep going like this in a body that won't be able to take it and make you even more vulnerable.
[ He cannot help but eye the tincture warily. It's nothing personal against her - anyone in his position would be cautious of a drink offered by someone who knows exactly what dosage of herbs can kill or cure a man. However, she has been nothing but forthright with him thus far in their interactions...
He accepts the cup and takes a very cautious sip. When he hasn't dropped dead or started choking on his own blood after a few seconds have passed, he takes a slightly longer draught. ]
...I do not need you meddling in this, [ he mutters at her. ] 'Tis something I brought upon my own head. Even someone as old as I can still be a fool sometimes.
[ She might be a medicine and poison fan, but she definitely has no intention of harming him. Not.. that she's sure she'd be able to even if she tried.
But she sighs and sinks back. ]
I don't think you were a fool. But it won't kill you to accept some help. There's someone I know here... she's a goddess-witch... apparently the first witch to the humans of earth.
[ It was on her profile when they first spoke, and they've talked a lot about the magics of their worlds. ]
... she's suffered the Archivist too. She said— the Archivist is possessed by some kind of entity, that feeds off statements and causes the nightmares. And...
[ She lifts her head, expression determined. ]
She offered to enter your nightmares to try and fight that entity away from you. But I didn't want to invite her without your consent. Emmy, if this can help... then I don't think you should turn it down. You were so tired, even my simple spell was able to put you to sleep.
[ The thought of letting yet another into his dreams or memories - and a stranger, too! - twists his stomach. Enough, a part of him thinks. No more. What is to say this goddess or witch won't demand something in return for their service? Let him suffer his remaining time here until the Underworld finally calls him back. He will forget it all regardless when his soul finally breaks apart.
I have held on for this long already, he thinks tiredly. I can surely hold on a few more years. ]
I do not know your friend, [ he says in a low tone. ] If it is as simple as fighting the Archivist's avatar then it is surely something I can accomplish on my own. I refuse to allow another access to these memories. Particularly one with unknown powers. I will not repeat my mistake.
You don't, but I do. I trust her, Emmy. I believe her when she says she'll do as she says. Besides... her fight seems to be with the Archivist. She's determined to help you because it'll help her as well.
[ She shakes her head, her ears lifting up as she speaks. ]
She also said— if you're not comfortable, there's another method she could use. But why have either of you suffer any longer than necessary?
[ She places a hand on his arm, ears lowering in concern. ]
Her magic is... it's like what you told me. Creation magic. It's really beautiful. She told me that her world's magic is one of balance. You can't take more than you give. And she's so wise, Emmy! She knows so much, just like you. But after as long as she's lived, she ought to...
[ She smiles a bit, feeling a flush of warmth for her friend, before she looks up at Emet-Selch. ]
We're already in a shitehole here, Emmy. Do you really need to make it that much harder for yourself?
Shitehole, is it? Oh, I don't know, I'm rather enjoying the privileged position I have here. [ The words are sharp and needlessly sarcastic. ] Few bother me as long as I adhere to their dratted quota. No, the only difficulty is everyone else here.
[ Consider: he would not have gotten into this mess in the first place if he hadn't interacted with the Archivist and their apparent lover. And if he could have avoided everyone related to his own world, he would have done so gladly. ]
I will meet with whoever this woman is, but will not promise more than that.
[ The only reason she isn't looking offended at what he says is because he just came out of a nightmare, and she isn't about to take anything he says personally here. She just lets out a small huff and shakes her head. ]
Right, so terribly privileged in a shitehole. What's next, calling you Ser Poopysocks of Shitebottom?
[ She gives him a wry look, but she sighs and shrugs, lowering her hand and looking him over. ]
... Just give her a chance. If she can't help, there's... something I want to try. But, Emmy—
[ She turns an earnest gaze over to him. ]
It's risky. I just don't want to try it unless it's a last resort. But if we do end up having to, will you trust me to do whatever it takes to end this nightmare for you?
[ It's pretty obvious she doesn't intend to back down because they've already gotten going on their way. And she doesn't want him suffering any more than he already has. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
2/2
[ She hesitantly moves in, recalling how badly he reacted last time- but, she braves it and looks up at him, ears giving a light flick. ]
And a Radiant Matriarch like myself never breaks a promise!
[ She lifts her hand and tips his face up by the chin then. He really is far too tall- but she tries to catch his gaze with her own, giving him a small smile before she lowers her hand. ]
Come on, Sulky. Any smart man would be absolutely flattered to have a cute lady pay this much attention to them.
[ Sulky. She'd be sorry, but she is trying to lighten the mood a bit. ]
I think I know what to make for you, though. So you've got to be there for the party, now. And whatever all you've shared, I'll be able to record. My Tales of the Ancients have to be the best collection!
[ She smiles and leans back, moving her arms behind her back. ]
... how are you feeling?
[ She's asking for a reason, but she'll just make sure, first... ]
no subject
It comes as no surprise that he absolutely disapproves of this new nickname. He makes it known with a deep frown. ]
...As well as I can be, considering that I have been made to tell this sorry tale yet again.
[ He has no qualms with answering questions, usually. But he would dearly love to rest. Not in the sense of sleeping - the more final kind.
Let me rest... ]
Must I go to this party of yours? I am not the festive sort.
[ And yet he feels an odd compulsion to do just that. A nagging feeling which squirms when he tries to resist. It is not so strong that he cannot ignore it (for now), however. ]
no subject
[ Which they need to be prepared for. But, she finally does reach out and take him by both his hands, stepping back with a gentle tug. Strong or not, she doesn't use any force— but it's enough to at least encourage him to follow.
She leads him to the tent set up there— it is spacious enough to be a room, with enough height for comfortable seating, and with the surface pendant lighting dimmed with only the fairy lights on, it's pretty cozy.
She climbs on in as she lets go of his hands and sits up on her knees on the cushion layer— moving the plushies and blankets out of the way. The books at least are arranged tidily aside from where she has some on surfaces where she was reading, and she pats one of the cushion spaces there. ]
Come on. In you go. This is the Starlight Sanctuary. I don't bring just anyone in here.
[ Most people don't come up here and those that do aren't exactly allowed into this area. For being on a building rooftop, it's rather private. ]
Whenever your thoughts feel too loud, and your head feels too heavy, the Starlit Sanctuary makes it all better!
[ She chuckles and looks up at him, picking up a little plushie she was working on— a little hooded purple pudding with a funny face, and sets it on her lap. ]
Aye, aye, you can call it juvenile and foolish all you want, but it works. Things don't have to be complicated all the time, you know.
[ And she looks out in front of them where now, since they can't see most of the tall buildings and only a faint glow past the growing wall gardens and planters around the building railings— the stars actually look clearer compared to when the light pollution was interfering. ]
... And it doesn't hurt to have to look for the stars than seeing them right away.
[ She turns and holds up a little star shaped plushie at him then, covered in soft shimmering fabric, but very huggable! ]
See? This one's pretty! It ought to be, because I made it!
[ She holds it out to him then, watching him with a curious look. ]
How long has it been since you've gotten any rest? Real rest. You look like you haven't slept in an age.
no subject
If nothing else, he can admit that the toys are well-made.
He doesn't really want to sit either but if he towered over before while upright then he certainly towers over her now while she's sitting down. So he lowers himself to the floor and sits cross-legged amongst the cushions. ]
I try not to sleep. There are dreams I would like to see as little as possible of.
no subject
Though what he says makes her stop and look at him in surprise as she sits up on a set of cushion seats next to him, setting aside the pudding plush and watching him curiously. ]
Hold, you too? Huh. I've seen patients here that can't sleep because they're emotionally distressed. I've become a light sleeper here myself, but...
[ She leaves her own reasons out— again, not wanting to bring her problems to people who already seem to have enough on their own. Not unless asked, anyway. She's seen enough people who just back off after hearing them despite leaning on her when they need to unload, so she avoids it where she can and just puts them into her writing. ]
Do you have nightmares, Emmy? Have you tried anything for them?
[ Her medicine has helped, but she isn't offering just yet until she knows what's happening. ]
no subject
[ He says this firmly and with conviction. Well, he hasn't tried, that said, but... In his experience, magically induced dreams such as what he foolishly subjected himself to are akin to a curse. ]
It is not that I cannot sleep; it is that I do not wish to see the dreams which come with it.
[ His hands idly knead the plushie in his lap. It has been a while since he held one. ]
no subject
[ She's only prying because that's a strange thing to say. Despite his obvious state of melancholia— or really, depression in modern terms, which she's far too familiar with from the victims of conflict and war she's had to treat—
She wonders if there's something else to this. ]
Was it something here? LIES caused certain side effects in people in some of their filthy experiments, but—
[ She looks thoughtful. ]
How do you rest, then? Ancient or not, your body in this place still needs it, doesn't it? And after all this repetition of your memories... hells. What sort of nightmares do you have?
no subject
Another curious soul wished to know about my past. One with the power to make me relive the events every time I fall asleep. He watches and feeds off the fear, it seems.
This body is mortal, yes, and requires the usual amount of rest. But I've no wish to feed that man more than I can help it.
[ He's already woken Felih a few times. He hates to show how affected he is by the nightmares. He hates that he can do nothing except resent and lament his loss to the Warrior of Light. It's nothing he holds personally against them, yet...
He bares his teeth silently. ]
Never share unpleasant stories with the one known as the Archivist, [ he seethes. ] He can and will use it against you.
no subject
She's sure someone would call this deserved retribution but that's no one's right to judge in this place. It's not warranted, and her tail fur bristles a bit as she watches Emet-Selch. He's having a hard enough time already... ]
... that swiving shite. No one deserves that... this place is hell enough already.
[ The annoyance comes out in a rush of anger, but she looks thoughtful after that, ears drooping. ]
I'm sorry... I'd been noticing you seemed ill-rested. Have you tried anything to combat it?
[ It's a more clinical question— she's very focused as a healer, and constantly trying to find ways to help. ]
no subject
I've tried sleeping beneath the white trees. They have a rather calming presence and there seems to be magic in them. [ A shrug. He hunches over, bringing up his knees and hugging the plush toy to his chest. ] It did little to help.
[ In the dim light, the shadows beneath his eyes seem even darker than ever. How many hours has it been since he last slept, again? He forces his eyes to remain open despite the temptation to keel over on the cushions. ]
no subject
Her left ear flicks as he talks though she is noticing that he's getting drowsy. It is late, the lights are dim... if she can see how long he does sleep, maybe she can figure out how to work on something that could help him from going into a dream state.
Would that even help? She wonders, but... barring talking to this "Archivist" herself, she only has her ideas to try, and it's better than doing nothing.
Well, Emet-Selch has little to lose here, and if it helps him, she could help others in the same position. For science, then. ]
No medicine, or anything of the sort? Would you like to try some, sometime? See if it helps at all.
[ She slides back a bit, reaching behind her to discreetly take a hold of her one-handed wand from her belt. ]
no subject
The medicine here only induces a state of sleep. Alchemy is a foreign practice to them it seems. Their science in all matters pertaining to the mundane is sound, yet they are ignorant of the arcane.
[ Yes, yes, it is wonderful and amazing the applications they have found for all their technology. Nothing they have, however, can induce and maintain a dreamless sleep.
He is too tired to notice her movement hides an ulterior motive. ]
no subject
[ That's not a lie, either. For a bit, they had figured out how to combat the Slut Center drugs, though that was a group effort. It's not actually in circulation now, sadly, but... she keeps her movements out of his peripheral vision, and begins to summon up a spell that's quite basic and familiar. ]
I will need you to rest, though. So I can figure out what would work for you in the amount of time you can rest. A little bit of repose?
[ No sooner is the word uttered, that a faint aetherial glow from her wand, now being used as a focus as she channels the spell and— there! A wave of aetherial energy is sent right at him, with calming and sleep-inducing effects, one they use on some difficult patients to shut down their activity so they can be healed easily—
Menphina's Tits, please let this work on an Ascian!! ]
no subject
He shoots her a dirty look. ]
Really? [ he asks indignantly. ] If you think that a weak bit of magic like that will put me to sleep--
[ But a yawn interrupts his sentence, startling him. He wavers and starts to list, feeling the familiar pull of sleep which has been made to wait too long. Indignity gives way to a small bout of panic. Impossible - he shouldn't be taken down by something so simple as a sleep spell.
He utters a weak protest, struggling to keep his eyelids open as his mortal vessel succumbs. He's unconscious even before he unceremoniously topples on to his side into the laid out cushions, mouth still parted in surprise.
She's lucky he had been nearing his limit on how long he could continuously stay awake. ]
no subject
And there he goes, toppling down, and she quickly sets her wand back to stare at him in surprise. ]
Bloody hells, it worked.
[ She can't help but think he looks adorable this way, though. So, sorry Emmy... she might be tempted to take a picture of him snoozing, but first things first. She carefully lifts him as best as she can and bridal carries him over to the back of the tent where her assigned sleeping space is. There are blankets there, and she moves to cover him up a lighter one, though she pauses and picks up the star plushie she gave him and sets it back in his arms.
( Sleep as long as you can. I'll figure something out. That's what the Radiant Matriarch does, after all! )
She smiles to herself and maybe snaps a cute shot, before she gently brushes his hair back off his face, and shuts his mouth carefully— no need to give him a dry mouth, before moving away quietly. Stealthy like a catte, always, and she dims the lights and pulls down the "door" of the Starlit Sanctuary as she slips out. There's enough ambient light inside for when he wakes, but there should be enough calming white noise around for him to at least rest peacefully.
She'll just stay out here and look through the books on her device in the mean time until a nightmare wakes him. Technology is pretty amazing! ]
Sorry, Emmy. Can't let you burn out on my watch.
[ He might fight in more subtle ways, but she has her own way of doing it. She just hopes something can be worked out. ]
cw: implied suicidal thoughts
Then the whimpering begins. Soft words uttered in a foreign language which her Echo may or may not allow her to understand. 'No,' he says repeatedly. There's faint rustling as he shifts restlessly in place, breath coming short and shallow. He calls out other names, quietly, earnestly, finishing on a pitiful whimper. Attempts to wake him do not succeed. Trapped in a nightmare that will not free him until it is done, he tosses and turns fitfully. His teeth grind and his lips pull back into a snarl. The star plushie is unconsciously clutched tightly to his chest, squeezed to within an inch of its life.
The last name he murmurs sounds forlorn and desperate. Yet just as she may be leaning forward to try and catch it, he suddenly shouts. ]
No!
[ His eyes fly open and he lurches upright, hand flung out to grasp at something (someone) only he can see. Heart pounding, light sweat beading his brow, Emet-Selch shudders as the nightmare slowly loosen their grasp on his psyche and slips back into the dark. His hand drops to his side; his head bows.
Ah. Still, he lives. ]
no subject
So when that strange language starts up, she begins to feel all too aware that it's not whatever they're speaking here. It almost sounds... no, she can't even place what it is, she's never heard anything like it. And the fact that she could understand it, much like how she comprehended dragons back home..
That's when she moves in to check, hearing him as he starts to murmur and she blinks in surprise at his motions. He definitely looks like he's in pain, and she keeps a distance until he looks like he's having a hard time getting up.
( That dastard who did this to him... ) she thinks, feeling troubled as she watches, though the cold water and towels were already prepared, and when he sits up, she quickly moves to place a hand on his back. ]
Breathe. It's alright now. You're fine...
[ She shifts so that she can look at him properly, waiting for him to compose himself. ]
... you were trapped in that and fighting to awaken. How are you feeling?
[ She's raised the light a little so they can see each other but not too much. ]
no subject
A hand creeps up to clutch his chest. He almost chokes under the weight. ]
Why...
[ His voice is hoarse. He clears his throat and directs a hollow glare towards her. ]
Why did you put me to sleep? After I told you only nightmares awaited me there.
no subject
[ She speaks firmly, though she keeps her hand on his back, her expression pained. ]
I think I've found a way to help. I was hoping I could do it while you slept, but it might take more work than that. Knowing how long you could get rest was vital...
[ She turns to quickly pour him some water which has some herbal infusions to clear a headache. ]
Here. Drink it. I'm sorry... I didn't want to make you suffer, but if we're going to fight this, I need you to trust me, Emmy. You can't keep going like this in a body that won't be able to take it and make you even more vulnerable.
no subject
He accepts the cup and takes a very cautious sip. When he hasn't dropped dead or started choking on his own blood after a few seconds have passed, he takes a slightly longer draught. ]
...I do not need you meddling in this, [ he mutters at her. ] 'Tis something I brought upon my own head. Even someone as old as I can still be a fool sometimes.
no subject
But she sighs and sinks back. ]
I don't think you were a fool. But it won't kill you to accept some help. There's someone I know here... she's a goddess-witch... apparently the first witch to the humans of earth.
[ It was on her profile when they first spoke, and they've talked a lot about the magics of their worlds. ]
... she's suffered the Archivist too. She said— the Archivist is possessed by some kind of entity, that feeds off statements and causes the nightmares. And...
[ She lifts her head, expression determined. ]
She offered to enter your nightmares to try and fight that entity away from you. But I didn't want to invite her without your consent. Emmy, if this can help... then I don't think you should turn it down. You were so tired, even my simple spell was able to put you to sleep.
[ She's capable of big worried eyes too. ]
... Will you think about it? Please?
no subject
I have held on for this long already, he thinks tiredly. I can surely hold on a few more years. ]
I do not know your friend, [ he says in a low tone. ] If it is as simple as fighting the Archivist's avatar then it is surely something I can accomplish on my own. I refuse to allow another access to these memories. Particularly one with unknown powers. I will not repeat my mistake.
no subject
[ She shakes her head, her ears lifting up as she speaks. ]
She also said— if you're not comfortable, there's another method she could use. But why have either of you suffer any longer than necessary?
[ She places a hand on his arm, ears lowering in concern. ]
Her magic is... it's like what you told me. Creation magic. It's really beautiful. She told me that her world's magic is one of balance. You can't take more than you give. And she's so wise, Emmy! She knows so much, just like you. But after as long as she's lived, she ought to...
[ She smiles a bit, feeling a flush of warmth for her friend, before she looks up at Emet-Selch. ]
We're already in a shitehole here, Emmy. Do you really need to make it that much harder for yourself?
no subject
[ Consider: he would not have gotten into this mess in the first place if he hadn't interacted with the Archivist and their apparent lover. And if he could have avoided everyone related to his own world, he would have done so gladly. ]
I will meet with whoever this woman is, but will not promise more than that.
no subject
Right, so terribly privileged in a shitehole. What's next, calling you Ser Poopysocks of Shitebottom?
[ She gives him a wry look, but she sighs and shrugs, lowering her hand and looking him over. ]
... Just give her a chance. If she can't help, there's... something I want to try. But, Emmy—
[ She turns an earnest gaze over to him. ]
It's risky. I just don't want to try it unless it's a last resort. But if we do end up having to, will you trust me to do whatever it takes to end this nightmare for you?
[ It's pretty obvious she doesn't intend to back down because they've already gotten going on their way. And she doesn't want him suffering any more than he already has. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)