Respite

[lysoke]

Respite

The lake is dark and calm with a small breeze by the time they arrive at its shores. The stars above reflect perfectly in the still waters before them, and a small copse of trees lines one side, starting on their side of the river and jumping along the other side.

Chris takes a moment to re-prepare the spell he hadn't been able to cast in five years and gestures vaguely to the area around them as a suggestion for what the others can do. Gathering in the forest, sitting on a nearby over-turned log, it didn't matter to him. What he needed was an hour without interruption.

He settles down on the ground and presses his hands together as he closes his eyes to focus on the image in his mind. Within minutes, the white, shimmering outline of a large building forms in thin air. The gentle glow of its light barely spreads from the growing structure.

As promised, it takes the full hour before the slowly filling-in form is complete and finishes with a jaunty, echoing click.

Chris takes a breath, now sitting in front of the stoop that looks annoyingly like the one he'd passed earlier in the night, and gets back onto stiff legs as the glow fades away, leaving smooth, but otherwise unremarkable, white stone behind.

"Here we are. Home for the next however long we need. I'll start working on food and water next." Once they're inside, anyway, which is why he takes back his things from where he'd left them and leads them into the temple, marked only with the carving of ravens on the black wood of the double doors.

Inside is something just shy of opulence. The same polished white stone makes the walls, though black and gold veins course through the marble. The floor is the inverse, a black stone with white, shimmering speckles like a night sky if looked at for long enough. A single window faced East high up on the wall. The temple was alight with sconces at regular intervals along the walls, illuminating an open area that held all the offerings of comfort Chris could think of.

A large hot-springs-like bath, complete with a miniature waterfall, took up the left side of the room and ran into a smaller, similar bath at dog-height. Next to it, covered by a retractable screen, was a shower. Along the back wall, a raven's head emblazoned the white wall in black and watched out over a set of tables, chairs, and a couple of sofas. The majority of the center was clear for walking, but the right edge and right side of the room held a deeply inset pit of pillows, cushions, and blankets in various soft (black and purple) fabrics.

Finally, in the middle of the right-hand wall, there were two closed doors that, when inspected, revealed one room with a large, soft chair and rug, while the other room was made of nothing but stone with jars, pitchers, and plates on shelves along two walls and a cork wall perfect for catching daggers on the other side.

"I hope it works for everyone. I didn't...I didn't make separate bedrooms this time. I didn't figure we would need them tonight."

♥

Comments

[compellingstatement]

Coaxing Poppet out of her carrier and onto his shoulder while he sits on one of the logs, explaining the situation to her, occupies a good 45 minutes of Chris' allotted casting time. By the time he's finished, sitting on one of the logs and gazing at a lake and sky with more stars than he has ever seen in his life, the mothcat is settled and purring softly while he strokes her head. He could probably be making himself more useful, but his feet hurt, and he's mentally and physically exhausted from the stress. He'll do something productive later.

Focusing on her means that it's only the last fifteen minutes or so that he has to ruminate on everything. When Chris calls them over to the building that's suddenly sprung up, his brows shoot up in surprise. Chris had told him what this spell could do, but seeing is believing. The fact it costs him nothing apart from worship and his soul is still frustrating on a personal level, but Jon isn't going to look this particular gift horse in the mouth.

What he is going to do is huff at Chris. "It's fine. And if anyone complains, they can sleep outside." So saying, he steps inside, eyes clocking the raven head first and foremost. "Do we have to do anything special when we enter, like... praising the Raven Queen?"

Poppet seems to have no interest in praising anyone. She's up off of Jon's shoulder and fluttering around the temple to look and find a comfortable place to perch and watch from.

[wolfehawke]

Wolfe, by contrast, watches Chris intently as he sits with Amelia and the dogs on a nearby fallen log... for about ten minutes.

How Chris' magic works has always been fascinating to Wolfe whose world doesn't run on faith at all, at least not in any measurable way other than people misinterpreting the word of the Maker to fit their own prejudices. Chris being able to cast is proof that there is at least one god who is actively listening. But watching someone sit and mumble prayers and magic words for an hour goes from interesting to torture in short order, prompting Wolfe to get up, bid Amelia to stay and watch Chris' back just in case, and start being useful.

Firewood is the first order, easily handled with some very focused Force magic even if he lacks an axe right now. He wouldn't if anyone had thought to take his bug-out bag, but he can't blame them for not thinking of it. They thought he'd vanished, that he'd be back in Thedas, not still captive in the back halls of a LIEs facility. And with magic it does take less time. Meaning he still has enough time to traipse a little ways away with the girls to see if there's small game about he can hunt down for supper. Personally he's not very hungry but they should eat, if only to keep their strength up while they figure out what to do.

Cookie and Patience trot back to the shore ahead of him after a little while, their hunting surprisingly fruitful in a little over twenty minutes. Each dog carries a limp rabbit-like creature in their mouth, both well trained enough to keep from chomping down and making a bloody mess. They'd flushed out some kind of warren, seven or eight of the things scattering and bounding out of sight, but Patience had been quick enough to catch one on her own and Cookie had retrieved another that Wolfe managed to shot with a conjured shard of ice.

"I hope this is enough to at least start with tonight, I- Oh. Flames, that's impressive," He says, stopping short as he registers the frankly much larger and nicer building than he expected.

[rogueinladysclothing]

The quiet of the evening, even as its broken by all of the men around her, is too much for Amelia to bear when she's left to her own devices. She has nothing to occupy her time but staring at Chris or into the starlit sky, occasionally ruffling Little Thunder's feathers when the bird wants attention, and her thoughts. Dangerous thoughts that want to spiral endlessly as everything Wolfe told them, the truth of their escape and general reality, tries to pull her down one detail at a time.

She can't do it. She can't just sit like this. She has to do something.

Her feet walk a wide perimeter around Chris' conjuring, allowing her to take in the way it forms out of the very air. That's... something. Not enough, but it's fascinating. It would be more so if her thoughts didn't try to stray every time she looked away from the temple into the darkness of the lake and the trees.

What happens to those they left behind? What choices do they make with everything they had planned completely upended? What about those who went before them?
What will any of it matter if they can't figure out how to make Wolfe and Jon a true part of this world?

Nothing is decided and nothing is all right when she returns to where Chris is sitting. Nothing is fine, but... but she is. She will be. She has to be.

She can't be anything else. She's not allowed to be a mess, right?

There's no words to describe how impressive everything in the temple is, inside and out. Rather than try to find any, she shakes her head and drags her hand down the outside of Chris' arm with a brief smile. Little Thunder she releases to explore the temple as she steps deeper in, hands clasped together in front of her as she walks about. She could duck into the side rooms to learn more, gladly throw her knives for hours with that door closed, but she can't. She can't.

"I'd like to avail myself of the shower first, if no one minds. I promise not to use all the hot water in getting all this blood off." She's covered in far more than anyone else right now. A wry smile tugs at her lips as she gestures to it. "After that I'd be glad to make tea for all of us. Or someone else could while I wash off. I've more than enough tea for all of us for at least a week."

Don't stop. Don't think. Just hold on a little longer. She can do this.

[chrisisofaith]

To Jon’s question he shakes his head. “You don’t worship her, you’re not expected to do anything. Just try to make yourself comfortable.”

He certainly intends to start when he sets his and Jon’s packs in the center of the room and his scythe beside it all.

“Nothing can get in here without my okay. We’ve no need for watches and the rooms to the side there are for either being alone as needed, or to break things.” Also as needed.

He’d tried to think of everything…but when Wolfe brings game in, Chris groans. Of all the things to forget…

“I didn’t put anywhere for a fire, or even a stove. I’ll fix it tomorrow.” He mumbles the last part to himself, then turns attention to Amelia. “Feel free. You should relax in the hot springs after.”

He wasn’t going to mention there wasn’t an end to the hot water here, it didn’t matter.

He steps closer to Wolfe to inspect the kills and lower his voice. “She’s gonna fall apart in there.” The question of if one of them should go help after a bit was quiet.

“I can’t believe your dogs caught Binxes. They mimic what they hear.”

[compellingstatement]

Jon is investigating, but he makes an agreeable sound to the mention of tea as he opens the door on a room filled with many breakable things. That door is closed as he considers the danger that room is going to be after the first person uses it. The other room is the one that he’s wanting. Quiet and simple where no one can see him. He probably can’t hide for a bit, but he marks it in his mind when Chris asks after something the dogs dragged in.

Jon is ready to see some mangled squirrel or rabbit things as he approaches, but he has to pause and blink as Chris and Wolfe talk over the game. ‘They mimic what they hear.’

“Get those things out of here.” He doesn’t mean to sound quite so paranoid. “What the- how?” Did they follow from Duplicity? “That’s a Furby. What is it doing here?”

[wolfehawke]

"Didn't Chris just call them Binxes? They're Furby on Earth?" Wolfe blinks, not surprised that Faerun and Earth share an animal so much as the way in which Jon is so immediate revolted. "Are they poisonous? Girls, drop!"

Both dogs immediately drop the Binxes on the floor near the door, looking at Wolfe dutifully for further direction.

"I thought they were some kind of strange rabbit. They didn't make much noise when we flushed them out." He explains while still looking around the room. Its large and comfortable, the empty space reminding him of the estate while the pit of pillows and the vast bathing area make him think both of the best parts of Duplicity and the stories Chris told him of bath houses and pillow forts with his Guardians. It takes much of Wolfe's willpower not to seek out Chris' eye contact and give away that he knows.

"If they are safe to eat, we can set up a fire outside, or we can still set up a pit in here with some scavenged stones. The floor is stone so there's not much danger of spread, or we can contain it easily with magic if there's any sparks." Practicals, logistics. "If they're not, I'll go bury them away from the camp."

Logistical planning, problem solving, that's what he has to focus on for the moment. The main part of that should be Amelia, though. Chris murmurs to him and Wolfe nods even as he addresses the problem of cooking food out loud. It takes Wolfe a long moment to reply to the more important question.

"Let her be for awhile. I'll check on her when its time," he replies quietly, as if giving that space even verbally. The truth is he doesn't know how helpful he can be to her right now when he's just as lost as the rest of them. He knows he has to break too but he's starting to feel that hollow feeling where he's not sure if he can.

It's fine. They'll figure things out. They're free, the rest will come. It always does.

[rogueinladysclothing]

The whole commotion about the game Wolfe and the girls brought in is one that will clearly be resolved without her, so Amelia simply shrugs at the others before moving to a table to set down all her things. Her bag first, from which she pulls the bag of dog food, jar of tea, and one of the bars of soap that she packed. Next she removes all of her weapons, taking extra care to clean off the daggers that saw use during their escape. There's enough on her person that it takes several minutes, and her hands are starting to shake by the time they're all set down and she has space to take off her belts and pouches. By the time she's stripped off her boots, her thoughts have started to wander and everything is feeling like too much: the brightness of walls, the raven head watching over them, the sound of the waterfall between the hot springs, the echo of voices, the occasional chatter from Little Thunder above her, and--

She manages to keep her breaths steady as she lets down her hair, but anything else she was going to leave on the table isn't happening. Her face is clear as she rushes into the shower and turns on the water, not caring that she's still in her clothes or that the water is somehow hot enough right away or even that she forgot her soap. Why would she care? It's helpful that things are like this. It's good that she can hide in here and no one can--

They'll hear her and try to come for her. Fuck. No. She can't let them. She'll be fine. She is-- will-- wants to be fine. For them. Always for everyone else.

Her ass is on the floor and knees pulled to her chest so she can bury her face in them before she even has a thought to spare about where she is. It doesn't matter. Nothing apparently does when they're simply copies of other people, living a life on stolen memories for who fucking knows what reason. Nothing matters when everyone they've loved who was taken before them is just gone, destroyed somehow before they even knew that was possible. Nothing matters when there's no way for them to tell those they still have left how to get out without meeting some horrible, definitive end.

Nothing fucking matters... except what they have now.

Is it enough?

Is she enough? For them, those few she still has left?

Does it matter if she isn't?

There's too much to think about. Too many things she knows and can't reckon with while there's still too many things she doesn't know. She keeps her face as tucked into herself as she can, her arms over her head, and bites down on her lower lip hard enough to bleed to keep any sounds she could make to herself. They don't need to know. They can't know. They need space, too. They don't need to listen to her. They have their own shit to carry without her adding onto it. She only has to hold on until her chest stops heaving and there's nothing left to let out, then she can wash off and rejoin them. No one needs a smile right now; all they need is to get through the night to tomorrow. Rest and getting clean is all they need. Everything else can wait.

Even if she can't.

[chrisisofaith]

He doesn't like that answer: to let her be, even as he knows in his bones it's the right one. There's also a part of him that wants to argue, that wants to say he'll be the one to go check on her because sometimes Wolfe is too soft and maybe this is a time for hard grips and bruises...but he keeps the thought to himself. With how long they all thought Wolfe had been missing, she probably did need him.
Another thing Chris wasn't letting himself digest just yet: Wolfe being here, being himself. Maybe when he got to the rest. Or when it was just them again...for now, it had to just be like he'd never vanished.

Luckily, the two different reactions to what Chris knows to be little more than Tharin vermin are...distracting enough. He shakes his head.

"They're fine to eat. Probably better in a stew than on their own, but they'll be fine to eat. They just talk, they're not-" He looks from Wolfe to Jon. "They're like rabbits and rats, they're just fancy pests that someone near the border likes to breed. They come from the region across the river; they're harmless."

[compellingstatement]

Amelia is... someone he can't comfort, even if he wants to. She'd made that abundantly clear when Wolfe had disappeared. She'd pulled away from his attempt at touch, at reaching out, and while he hadn't been surprised or especially hurt by it, it had reaffirmed their current relationship in his mind. They're people who share important people, and that's not enough right now for what she might need. He's already proved he's the unrelenting storm cloud in this group, and that won't be good for her.

In any case, there's the creature to focus on.

"It's a mechanical little monster from the 90s. It was used to spy on people, record secrets. I'm not eating that. It-" It would be a lie to say that's his childhood, considering he'd never wanted anything less his life as a boy, but others at school had had them. "Cut it open. Does it even have blood? It should be filled with gears and wires."

The Next Morning - Nevermore

[makingnpcs]

The morning is heralded by sunshine seeming to filter in through windows that did not exist, though it's a pale, early blue that is only just starting to fill the temple when there comes a sharp but quiet sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Even, deliberate...yet it comes again soon and a little faster, as though the knocker was losing what little patience they possessed.

[rogueinladysclothing]

Amelia is up first in the morning, well rested and ready for the girls to ask to go outside and get something to eat. The former is taken care of quickly - and appreciated for how it assures her of the time of day - before she makes her way back in to feed the dogs. She does her best to stay quiet, succeeding even if the dogs don't, which makes the knock at the door all the more alarming.

It's safe inside. No one can come in and harm them without Chris's permission. No one can touch them here. Still, Amelia takes no chances and has a knife in each hand when she approaches the door, a third strapped to her thigh. She keeps the girls behind her, ready to tell them to attack if necessary, then takes a breath.

She's has a dagger out in front of her, blade flat against her forearm as she opens the door after the second knock. If anyone means her or her people harm, they're going to be sorry for making the attempt.

[makingnpcs]

The stillness of the misty morning is barely broken by the door of the temple opening. Early morning bugs and birds provide the only sounds around for miles...except for the raven on the other side of the door who squawks in annoyance before heading into the temple with little slaps of his feet as though he'd been invited.

Little Thunder swoops down from inside the temple to land in front of him and size him up while the other raven returns the gaze, but with a strip of empty, black metal across his eyes. She does a circle around him, and for his part, the other raven seems to...preen under the attention.

Finally, Little Thunder hops up to Amelia's shoulder and preens at her hair with a quiet 'Dreams!' into her ear. The interloping raven stares at Amelia with his empty metal band, then her knives, then back to her, waiting.

[rogueinladysclothing]

A raven? With bound eyes? Dreams, if Aloïs were here, he'd scream that this was a bad omen. Seeing as they're under the protection of a cleric of the Raven Queen and that Little Thunder isn't too put off by the newcomer, Amelia chooses to be more welcoming. Not stupid, though, and while she gives the raven a nod, she doesn't put away her weapon.

"Do you come as a herald, stranger?" She keeps her voice low and her body between the raven and everyone else, including the dogs. Her knife is somewhat lowered at least. "We're only just waking after a long day, and we don't need any more trouble after the hell we escaped."

[makingnpcs]

The raven eyes her again then walks over towards the rooms to the side. Between one (forced or natural) blink yo the next, the bird is replaced by the long, lanky, figure of a man. His hair is a desaturated gold, his skin pale to nearly white with sharp and angular black tattoos along parts of it that can be seen, though the highest concentration is around his eyes. Eyes that are still covered by that black metal band.

Yet in his face and even the way he holds himself, he seems the spitting image of the cleric still sleeping further in. His smile is wide and holds the humor of someone who knows the joke but hasn’t yet shared it as he puts a hand on the first doorknob still within line of the lady rogue.

“Trouble? Me? I would never. I’m as innocent as a lamb. What’s in this door? May I look?” His voice is practically identical as well, down to the accent, though there’s something else in it. Something that isn’t in Chris’s.

He does, at least pause, though it’s in part to turn his smile on her and observe.

cw: attempted mind-control

[compellingstatement]

The Archivist is never far from waking, and Amelia feeding the dogs had been enough to rouse him. The tapping at the door (and Poppet still resting on his shoulder) had kept him stock still. A doppelganger of Chris appearing the morning after their arrival moves him, though. He sees the strange band across the other man's eyes, and he knows who this is, not by any supernatural means, just one of the myriad Statements Chris has given to him through the years.

"What are you doing here, Topher?" There's power in the question as the Archivist carefully extracts himself. Poppet is moved to a pillow, which earns him a displeased noise, and Jon makes some effort not to completely disturb Chris. He knows he looks a bit ridiculous in the pillow pit, making demands of the intruder, but he tries for as much dignity as he can muster.

[rogueinladysclothing]

"Not until you--"

Jon's voice cuts in before she can demand an introduction, offering one indirectly. She doesn't trust anyone who won't introduce themselves after letting themselves in without invitation. Him stealing her cleric's visage and voice isn't doing him any favors either.

Her lips press into a frown as she steps closer, encroaching on the interloper with the posture of a protective hunter. "You go nowhere without telling me who you are and what you're doing here. I don't let anyone I know nothing about near my family or around my home unattended."

[makingnpcs]

The man -Topher- doesn't seem particularly surprised to see Jon pop up from the pit, but he does seem surprised and visibly struggles against the Command. It's a losing battle.

"I'm...I'm here at my Mistress's bidding. To offer a gift of condolence and repair on her behalf. I'm here to- to Observe and Report. Guide, if needed..."

He staggers back a step as though released against something he'd been physically pulling from and the smile on his face is gone, replaced with the frown of someone who has tasted rot.

"That...is a nasty trick, Jonathan Sims. I'd appreciate you not doing it again lest something sharp end up in your ribs." He looks to Amelia next, his back going to the door he'd been poking around in. "As I was forced to say, I'm here to help. If I'm going to have some fun about my errands, that's my business; I don't mean any harm to your people. Wake your cleric, he'll tell you."

Afternoon at the Lakeside

[compellingstatement]

Jon and Patience return to where the temple was only to find a pile of supplies and a lack of mage and cleric. There are useful things the Archivist knows he could do, but the weight of what's just happened--what he's just done--is heavy enough that he just stands and stares for a solid few seconds until the dog prompts him by sticking her nose into his hand. The cold startles him out of his reverie, and Jon sighs.

"Go... fetch sticks or something for the fire, would you?" Amelia is catching game. Chris is going to build the temple. Wolfe... is presumably making himself useful; he might explode, otherwise. Jon should make an effort, as well.

Patience trots off to begin collecting wood nearby while Jon considers his options. He eventually picks up his cane, takes off his boots, and rolls up the legs of his trousers so that he can wade into the water. Maybe there are fish he can spear. That would be something.

Whenever Wolfe and Chris return, they'll hear irritated swearing before coming upon the sight of Jonathan Sims stabbing at the water with his cane sword. "Would you just stay still!?"

[chrisisofaith]

As his second step of getting in shape, Chris has made Wolfe carry the ill-fated log they caught up. It’s good for him.

And what else do you have a buff boyfriend for but carrying things for you?

It means he has only token grass and shade-smothered vegetation for feeding the initial flames in hand when he comes across his other boyfriend…stabbing the water.
And no Amelia, but she was likely around somewhere.

“I know your threshold for being offended can be awfully low, but surely the water’s said nothing to warrant such violent retaliation.”

For her part, Poppet leaps from Chris’ hair where she’s been slowly devouring a large dragonfly to continue her evisceration in Jon’s hair instead.

[wolfehawke]

It's not the log thats a problem. He's still huffing and puffing when they get back due to the weight but it's a good workout. No, its that he's also doing this trek in soggy, muddy boots. His pant legs are sodden to the knee, having had to wade into the lake a few feet to reach his staff. He'd thought the staff wasn't in terribly deep water so he'd thought he could just go in a few inches and grab it without having to remove them. It would have worked out fine if not for the hole in the silty terrain that Wolfe couldn't see for the murky water. One wrong step and he'd stumbled, splashing himself and getting both water and mud up inside his tall boots.

Hence why when he walks up and finally drops the log down on the ground with a grunt and a thud, he's making awful squelching noises too. Honestly at this point, its just sort of funny.

"Are you trying to fish?"

[compellingstatement]

Jon stops stabbing at Chris' voice, and he shoots the cleric a glare, only for Poppet to land in his hair and rain some sort of insect wing onto his face. "Gah!" He flails half-heartedly, and the mothcat mews in annoyance before taking her catch to a nearby log to finish. The Archivist claws at his hair for a moment before responding to either of them.

"Yes. Of course I'm fishing." He huffs and tries to regain some modicum of dignity as he straightens back up. The water is cold enough that he can't entirely feel his feet anymore, so he trudges his way back to the shore. "If I were stabbing at the water because it insulted me, I think we'd have bigger things to worry about." Another irritated glance is tossed at Chris. "They're too fast." Or he's too slow, but clearly it's better to blame the fish. "Probably magical or something.

"You can put the wood with-" He registers the mound of wood the dog appears to have acquired while he was fruitlessly jabbing at passing fish. "Good lord! I told you to get kindling, not half the forest." Her wagging tail pauses, and she looks momentarily sheepish, rather than proud.

"I see we had similar ideas, though. Amelia's off still hunting." He... hopes she's hunting and not hiding as she continues to have an emotional breakdown.

[chrisisofaith]

Chris' arms cross and his brow raises. "By herself?" Jon wasn't much of a hunter, but that still seemed less than ideal considering there were still monsters potentially about. Maybe things she could handle, but also some things that weren't wise for one person to face alone.

"If you want to learn to hunt...or fish for that matter, you'll have a better chance at it by being taught, not losing patience and going at it based on your 'fantasy' ideas."

[wolfehawke]

"If she has Cookie with her I don't see too much of a problem," Wolfe adds upon not seeing his other dog around. He's immediately distracted by Patience, who comes over and snuffles around his feet, sneezes pointedly, and then steeps back to stare at him with intent. For a moment, Wolfe stares back quizzically, then glances at Jon.

"How long has she been gone?" Its not strange that she would go off and hunt. What is strange is that Jon said he wanted to talk to her while doing that and instead he's here. Alone. Well, not alone alone since Patience stayed behind. Maybe she left her intentionally to protect their friend being that he's new to actually hunting for his food in the wilderness and not in a grocery store. He can see Jon being particularly noisy and annoying her by scaring game away.

Is that what Patience is trying to tell him?

"Why'd she send you back?"

17 Deception

[compellingstatement]

"Why do you think?" Jon lifts a brow as he sits on a nearby log and uses the cloak he'd left there to start drying his legs. His tone takes on the condescending ring of a man who thinks someone has asked a very foolish question. "I didn't realize I was meant to follow her around. As you can see, I don't seem to be any use at catching anything." A small gesture toward the water before he glances down and away.

"We split up... about an hour ago, I think? She has Cookie and Little Thunder with her. God only knows what they're going to bring back. Not more of those furbies, I hope." The memory of the dead ones is still rather haunting.

24 Insight

[chrisisofaith]

Chris looks from Jon, who looks away too quickly, to Patience, who has more intellect than some people he's met, and then moves to crouch down in front of his Archivist.

He reaches out to put a hand around one of Jon's calves while green eyes bore into his partner.

"I believe some of that...but you're deflecting. You're as good a liar as I am, Jonathan Sims. What aren't you saying?"