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makinglies2025-09-27 05:54 pm
lysoke) wrote in makinglies2025-09-27 05:54 pm
Entry tags:
Respite
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."
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."
cw: PTSD, panic attack
Away. She needs to get away. Free from the hand that's not--
ropes around her wrists, a hand pinning them to the bed, shackles she can't take off until the city sets her free
She snaps her wrist away from him startled gasp and her other hand shifts around her dagger so she can punch him in the face. A quick jab that's over in an instant, followed up with a push to his shoulder to send him stumbling as she does the same backwards and away from him. It's not until she's moved back several yards and almost trips over the whining dogs that she remembers that anything else exists. Her chest heaves with each breath, hands shaking as she puts away her knife and touches each of the girls on the top of their heads.
Away. Go. Run. She needs to be as far from all of this as she can be.
"Fuck you." She whispers it as she tears her gaze away from Jon and the eyes and the dark, then turns on her heel to lead the girls away from him. She can't think of the trouble it'll cause when Jon shows up by himself. She can't imagine the looks of disappointment from Chris or Wolfe when she returns later with--
Game, yes, food for them to eat. Something for her to do. A way for her to be useful even as she's no hunter or ranger. The girls can do this. They already have rabbits in their teeth and are trying to get her attention to take them. She'll do that in a minute. After Little Thunder finds her shoulder again and utters a concerned Dreams! in her ear. After she's finished rubbing and staring at her wrists to prove to herself that they're free. After she can breathe and be certain there's no ropes around her chest or blindfold over her eyes to keep her bound or dull her senses.
It's not safe for her to be alone here when they're so recently arrived and recovering from too many things all at once. She doesn't have a single thought to spare to any of that while there's still panic and adrenaline in her system.
Patience eventually manages to push her rabbit in Amelia's hands, then boofs at Cookie. The latter wags her tail in understanding and moves closer to the rogue as the former turns and quickly makes her way back to Jon. All the people of their pack are going to be looked after and Patience is going to make sure of it.
no subject
“Fuck…” Patience moves to press her nose to his hip as Jon covers his face with his hands and pulls himself together. There goes his attempt at finding some sort of relationship with Amelia. Whatever he believes about her and her stupid ideas about who and what they are, this isn’t what he’d wanted. Patience being there to watch him just makes him feel worse.
“Go be with her,” he tells the dog, peeking through his fingers at her. Patience boofs and shakes her head. Sometimes, he wishes she weren’t quite so intelligent. “I don’t need you to watch me.” Unfortunately, Patience seems to be stubborn enough to ignore him. “Fine. Am I allowed to go to the lake?”
He takes his first step and feels very suddenly hungry. Ravenous, in fact. The Archivist shoots a look over his shoulder, knowing how close potential prey is, but he masters himself and continues onward. He doesn’t need to eat. He doesn’t need to eat.
The next half hour is spent kneeling at the edge of the lake, sleeves rolled up as he tries to rub the pen on his arms away. It only works so well given how hard he’d pressed the ink into his skin. He spends another few minutes just staring blankly into the water, trying to find an excuse that saves himself and Amelia both the trouble of conversations they don’t want.
He could maybe get away with pretending they broke up for him to wash his arms privately. Play at having fussed and broken up for himself, not because he’d terrorized her. But the lie will depend on Amelia going along with it. It’s something to start with, at least.
Jon heads back toward where the temple had been, Patience leading the way in front of him.