makinglies | Respite

Entry tags:

faerun

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."

♥

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Once he’s out of the springs and dressed in far more loose clothing than he’s usually worn the last few years -something more befitting a modest cleric- he sets to collecting and preparing the food. Red meat for the flame, fish set to dry and stew, both. He still lacks for the vast array of spices he’d gotten used to having at hand in Duplicity, but this would taste better than the bland, conjured, food.

By the time questions of tactics arise, he’s plated some of all but the drying fish for his family and sets the plates near each of them in turn.

Whatever thoughts he was going to offer, pause for Jon’s stumbled attempt at Common. Despite the rough execution, Chris smiles.

“Needs polish, but not bad for a first attempt! I know what you’re getting at, anyway.”

He returns to the kitchen to fetch everyone water as he continues.

“I intended to leave a Guardian with Jon and Wolfe, it will attack anything that comes near them. Light might also dissuade them, depending on what type of undead they are. I don’t…actually know. I’ve never dealt with something that comes out of a Darkland.”

He settles in to join them once everything has been handed out and runs the backs of his fingers along his chin in thought.

“Topher said we don’t have to kill them all, just enough, so planting ourselves somewhere and luring the undead to us might work for a time.”

Edited 2025-11-02 17:13 (UTC)

"Just my boot knife and my device, though the knife was the one you gifted me. I had a mind to find it once I broke out but I found you first and escape seemed the more prudent option," Wolfe answers Amelia, plopping into the seat beside her and planting an affectionate kiss to her shoulder, then looking at Jon to try and parse what he said.

"Once we've eaten, we should study together." Or Jon should help him, is probably what he should ask. He'd gotten somewhat better about it at the Sanctuary but he's usually best with someone to bounce off of and Jon so likes to feel superior. Might as well give him that.

"For battle plans, I don't know what we can really plan until we know what the situation looks like. I have my staff, which is at least range if anything gets past Chris' Guardian, and I do have my magic if its between that or death." He puts his hand up before anyone protests. "I'm not keen on running my well dry without dire reason so I promise I won't use it unless its to save our lives."

That stated, whether he still gets disbelieving protests or not, Wolfe tucks into his meal. Still maybe a little bland for lack of spices but its a far cry richer than the food from the day before. He'll take it.

"What sort of zombies are we going to be facing? Mindless shambling undead or something else?" There are a lot of different kinds, as he learned in both the Fleet and Duplicity. "Do we need to take care not to get bitten or we might turn ourselves?"

Edited (typos and word choice) 2025-11-02 17:46 (UTC)

Jon's attempt at Common is clumsy, but in a way that shows he has a basic understanding of the language and what he's trying to say. Amelia cracks a small smile but doesn't say anything, leaving the praise to Chris. The Archivist won't want to hear it from her anyway.

She holds her tongue about Wolfe's weapons as well. That will require a private conversation, considering the previous owner of the knife she wants to give to him. "I think Chris' plan to lure them to us for a while is a good place to start, especially if we can find a defensible position. I have enough knives that I can spare one or two for each of you," she looks at Jon and Wolfe in turn, "in case of emergency and keep the rest to myself. I have reach with my slingshot, though I'll need to hunt for some proper rocks for it before we leave." An easy task along the shore of a lake.

Her attention turns to Chris to hear his answer to the mage's question. She doubts it'll change their plans at all, but it would be good to know what they're likely to be up against. To occupy herself while she listens, she pulls her plate closer, offers a nod and a mouthed 'thanks' to the cleric, and takes a few bites. It's better than the conjured bread she managed to eat this morning and she's grateful for that. If she has to eat, and she knows she does, better there be some taste to it to keep her interested in the act.

Jon grimaces to himself at Chris' mild praise. He knows it's meant kindly, but the Archivist is used to being able to articulate himself and use a more complex vocabulary than most. While he's not starting from complete scratch thanks to his loose efforts to learn Common after Duplicity's auto-translation had failed, he knows he's still a novice and will likely sound it for some time to come. Unless being woven into the Weave might come with that basic knowledge.

Maybe they could negotiate something with Mystra.

It's a thought he files away for later as he closes the book and sits up to pick at the food he's been given. It's more meat than he might usually look for, but it's not like he's been out gathering berries and vegetables from the forest. The realization that his dietary options are going to be incredibly restricted here compared to even back home hits him very suddenly. They're in the cold north. Any 'exotic' fruits and vegetables are almost certainly a luxury.

Jon frowns to himself as he listens before chiming in with, "How many is 'enough?' That wasn't made particularly clear. Half a dozen? A hundred? Will a bell go off when we're finished?" He knows he shouldn't be snarky about this being very... fantasy, but he can't entirely help himself.

To Wolfe's question, at least, he shakes his head. "No, there are no zombies here in Faerun to my knowledge that spread their undead state; it's not a disease, just necromancy."

He stands again to go to his pack and pulls out the multi-jeweled dagger to place on the table. "I'd like someone to take this. Each gem is tied to an element, and there's healing and radiant magic available through it. Undead are usually vulnerable to radiant magic.

"And, no...I don't expect there to be a chime or anything. Either a messenger of the Raven Queen will tell us, or she'll let us know some other way."

He glances up to Amelia as he takes his seat again, a small smile on his lips. "I promise not all of them are annoying, just the one that is my Shadow mirror. Probably."

"I figured we'd just fight until they stopped coming? Usually works for me," he shrugs, but looks to Chris with deference. It's his world, after all. He'd know better.

Other than being curious as to what makes a good sling-shot rock, Wolfe is mostly quiet, listening and occasionally peeking at Jon's book of Common around bites of food. He doesn't seem particularly subdued, at least no more than anyone else. He's just enjoying being around his family.

"Best we give it to one of them." Amelia looks to Chris the nods to the other men. "I'll be all right with you at my side. Better they have a little extra protection where it can be offered." Anything is better than nothing, especially when they shouldn't use any of their abilities. Wolfe will be tempted anyway, but if he can be persuaded away by having that dagger in hand? She'd be grateful for it.

"I am glad to know the messengers aren't all like Topher. I think we can only afford my anger going in one direction at a time right now, especially where your matron's people are concerned." She can laugh at herself for that much, though she somewhat doubts the joke will land after how she's been today. Dreams, she still needs to apologize to Chris...

She shifts a little in her seat, pushing the soft sweater she's wearing - so remarkably like one she was all but living in for days after Wolfe was taken from them - back on her wrists. "Do you think we'll ever see her for ourselves, the Raven Queen? I know she's real for the abilities you have and what the little shit who stopped in this morning brought us, but I've never..." Her lips purse thoughtfully. "It's hard to believe in something without seeing it with my own eyes. I'm certain that's offensive to the gods here, but I hope my being from somewhere else will lessen that blow."

"I imagine seeing gods when you're not one of their clerics is typically a bad thing," Jon says, punctuating the comment with a point of his fork in her direction. He does note Wolfe's attention to the book and moves it so it might be easier for the mage to look at. "Not that I'm not curious, but if she comes to us... Is there any sort of madness we could expect from seeing her?"

While Chris and his Guardians may have treated with gods, he can't imagine it was a particularly good time with the Raven Queen, especially when she's more otherworldly than some of them might be.

The dagger also gets a look, but his attention for that turns to Wolfe first. Jon is willing to take it, but he imagines the actual fighter should have a first claim to it.

Chris nods when Amelia says one of the others should take the dagger, and when Jon doesn't reach for it, Chris slides it towards Wolfe. Probably for the best, he'd always been a little hesitant about letting his Archivist have that dagger when it could permanently harm him, especially considering some of his less favorable inclinations.

He considers Amelia's question and Jon's addition with some thought while he chews a bite of fish. When he decides on his words, he glances at the raven's head on the back wall, then back to the others.

"There's a strong possibility she'll come to see us herself...there's also a strong possibility she won't do what an emissary could do for her. She's...a bit like the very bird she's named for: flights of fancy and unique things take her attention...you all are certainly unique things. That said, sometimes she can't be bothered with something not interesting enough for her. If she does come, I think Jon's had the best idea of what she looks like, I...looked a bit like her myself, back when everyone was pulled into storybooks. She has three faces, each denoting a different emotion that switches out based on how she's feeling. The neutral face is the best to see. And when she speaks, it's not with words so much as...impressions. Ideas pushed into your head in a way you know aren't yours, but get her meaning and ideas across."

He shakes his head and shifts some of his stew about in its bowl. "That's the best I can describe it. She's more...otherworldly than some gods, but all of the gods I've met in Faerun are creatures obviously beyond mortals, with power and presence to match. It would be best if we keep our dealings with gods directly to as minimum as possible for several reasons."

Chris pushes the dagger towards him and Wolfe accepts it without comment. He'd rather he get hurt than Jon right now. He's well aware of Jon's supernatural ability to heal, but its magic and needing to use it will drain his friend faster than necessary. Best to have the tools to remove threats before they ever reach him. Besides, even if he hasn't had lessons with a dagger, Wolfe knows how to move in combat better than Jon does just through experience with the sort of battle he's assuming this will be.

"Are we going to be able to do that? I mean, we're doing something at the Raven Queen's near-direct request, and in her back yard. Then we're going to need to petition Mystra directly, who might take a personal interest since we're curiosities, as you said. I don't know enough about her or how she operates to think she'll have her cleric speak for her at her temple, if she even gives us the time of day. If she doesn't, then you've said yourself you have plans to petition other Gods."

Polishing off the stew, Wolfe leans back a bit to participate in the conversation better, though he does nod to Jon in thanks for the book. He shifts it closer, but doesn't stick his nose in it just yet. That would be rude mid-talk.

"I'm a little surprised Her Highness sent Topher instead of speaking through you, her cleric, though. You obviously still have your connection if she didn't send you a vial to drink... Ah, maybe that's why, someone had to deliver the vials." That's... very obvious now that he's said it. "...Nevermind."

"We'll do what we can to keep our interactions with them as little as possible after we're in the Weave." Amelia's reckless enough to threaten or fight gods for messing with the people at this table, but she's calmed enough since this morning to see the logic in avoiding it where she can. She's not going to go out of her way to find fights that don't need fighting, at least with the gods and when everyone else in the party is actively asking to avoid it.

She's not certain how to process what the Raven Queen looks like or her very mercurial ways. It reminds her a bit of Jamie, through presented in a very different way from the changeling, and a child when Chris describes her desire for what's unique and yet also not making efforts to see those unique things for herself. This is a god they're speaking of, though, so she doesn't say any of this out loud. The last thing she needs is to be struck down for speaking her mind in the blunt way she does when working through her thoughts and deciding how she feels about the outcome. This is also Chris' matron and that above all else makes her hold her tongue. It helps that she's curious about Wolfe's question; she nods along as the man speaks to show her own genuine curiosity about the answer.

And then lifts a hand to gently rub his back when the mage stumbles over his thoughts. He gets a soft smile and a kiss to his temple before she returns to her stew. As soon as she's done with that, he can have her hand to help him recover further.

"I think I'm most concerned about Bane taking an interest once he notices us." Jon flicks a glance at Wolfe. He doesn't know how much Amelia might know about the fraught and abusive relationship with Chris' former god, but he knows the mage should be on the same page. "Or rather, once he notices you." His gaze turns to Chris as he continues to pick at his own stew. "The Raven Queen is all well and good; we know she's on our side for the moment." Probably. The soul thread vials provide some sense of certainty for the moment. What might come later is anyone's guess is a mercurial bird of a goddess.

"Bane, though... You'll let us know if he does try to contact you, yes? We should probably all be open about that, if it comes to pass."

There's a part of him that worries Chris might try to hide it, that he'll turn to anyone who might help them given their current situation. Bane is power and control. Wouldn't he be convenient for a man who's just lost so much of that? And has been struggling with its loss for the past five years?

He's about to say something when Amelia says what he'd meant by his words, and he nods to her in thanks. Yes, they needed godly attention now, but casting about for undue attention wasn't wise, and even if they needed to petition a god or two, that didn't mean they'd meet them face-to-face. That almost never happened for most people. The Guardians just had really bad luck.

Speaking of bad luck...Jon mentions Bane, and Chris goes still, eyes cast to the last dregs of his soup. What would Bane make of him? Any of them. Knowledge of their worlds could open those worlds up to Bane's interest, especially Jon and Amelias, without gods of their own. He might be interested in him as a conduit with 'unique' connections. He might even be interested in Chris's experiences in Duplicity with the amount of tyranny in the city.

Gods, had he heard when Chris had prayed to him in a moment of weakness? That would please him.
If he cared at all.

He looks back up but doesn't let his gaze linger on any one of them. "It's very likely he won't care about a copy when the original is practically in his grasp. In that, we're likely luckier than the Guardians. Besides, he got what he wanted from them; there's likely little we have he'd be interested in. I can promise I have no intention of turning his gaze except as a very last resort. If even the Guardians can't help us put you into the Weave, then and only then would I look at other, less savory, options."

Edited 2025-11-04 03:13 (UTC)

"Not even then. Chris, we talked about this." And he'd been slippery about it then, too. "Bane lays a finger on you and I will do everything in my power to be a thorn in his side, hang the consequences. I don't care that he's a god. To me, he's just another abusive authority and I'll be quite literally damned before I let something like that take you."

He hasn't raised his voice, but the atmosphere around them grows frigid with the intensity of the stare Wolfe levels at Chris, much less his words. Realizing, Wolfe takes a deep breath and reins himself in, the aura of winter receding. "I told you before, even with how much being Tranquil frightens me, I would rather be that then see you in Bane's pocket."

Or on his leash.

"Do not. Ask him. For help. Not even as a last resort."

Edited (words) 2025-11-04 03:24 (UTC)

Bane isn't a topic that's come up much between her and Chris, but it's easy to see the cleric is trying to play off the Jon's concerns. Amelia knows he's a tyrant and unlikely to help them be written into the Weave - it's not a good method for control when it can't be used as blackmail - and the strong reaction of both men at the table tells her there's much more to know about Chris' relationship with the god. More that she should know about and be aware of in case said god ever comes around with the intent of coercing Chris into going back to him.

Pushing aside her mostly empty bowl, she rests a hand over Wolfe's to present a unified front. "We'll find some other way to do this. All of our freedoms from someone like Bane are more important than going to someone whose motives are always going to be malevolent where we're concerned."

On the one hand, Jon fully agrees with Wolfe. They've had enough of manipulation and control by dictators in Duplicity. They don't need to extend that here, especially not Chris with how vulnerable he is. But on the other hand... wouldn't Jon turn to Elias if he were desperate, needing some way to protect the people he loves? There's something to be said for powerful, charismatic bastards who can open doors when your interests align.

As a last resort. Only as a last resort. Maybe Chris wouldn't even have to be part of any deal. The Archivist could make it on his own. He does have the history with the god to get in the way of making clear-headed decisions. And with Wolfe being tactical, they could make it work... Maybe?

So, while Wolfe and Amelia admonish, Jon picks at his food. When he's able to catch Chris' eye, Jon offers the most discreet nod that he can manage. Only as a last resort, but he could stomach it. At least Bane is a tyrant they'd be able to talk to instead of some unknowable fear entity whose 'care' only extended as far as gifting him horrible nightmare snacks and a favored position in the apocalypse.

Chris meets Wolfe’s frigid gaze but has the decency to at least look away to the others when he shakes his head.

“I love you, Wolfe, and your care is something I…need, honestly. We all do. I need to see the light in yours and Jon’s eyes, hear your anger and your gentleness and your protective streaks…which is why, with all of the love in my heart: by the time I would reach out to Bane, you and Jon won’t be in positions to stop me.”

He locks eyes with Jon as he says it and nods to his other boyfriend. When he looks back to Amelia, there’s something resigned yet sharp in him.

“When Wolfe is Tranquil and Jon comatose and every other option exhausted, will you still stand so high on your conviction? You know the value of a good tool, even if it’s one that might cut you in the process of using it.”

Wolfe isn't sure why he thinks he can ever move Chris with an expectation that he'll respect his wishes. Its made worse by knowing he's not sure if he would make the same decision were their positions reversed, but at least he knows he would have the decency to be apologetic about it. To respect Chris' decision even if he doesn't agree. Instead he gets told he is loved and that his want in this doesn't matter in the same breath.

He doesn't get up from the table and remove himself from this conversation as he wants to and probably should, but he does stare a hole into Chris' face, his mouth set in an obstinately thin line and his mein radiating disapproval. He can't acknowledge the part of him that is relieved Chris would go to such lengths to keep him from permanent Tranquility, that quiver in his heart that gives him the strength to keep going because he doesn't just think he's loves and needs, he knows.

Which is also exactly why it hurts. Bloody complicated things, feelings.

So he doesn't weigh in again, instead looking away finally and gripping Amelia's hand with a tightness that he has to put effort into keeping from a squeeze.

If this is how Chris is going to be then it can't happen. He'll redouble his efforts not to use magic and maintain himself as long as it takes. Fuck he'll make a pact himself if he has to, but he's not letting it get to the point of putting Chris in danger of being used again. He sure ad hell won't be the reason for it.

Amelia sees that nod from Jon, but doesn't speak on it. There's too much going on to acknowledge it when she knows she's more likely to snap at the man again in ways that lead to the same shit that happened in the woods. Better to squeeze Wolfe's hand and meet Chris' eyes instead.

"Then let me be the one getting cut. You have a history, a dangerous and painful one from what I can gather at this table, and that makes anything Bane would offer you that much more fraught and his promises less trustworthy. He's hurt you before and has every incentive to do so but worse if you go back." What else do abusers do when gifted their victims on golden platters but double down on what worked in the past? All this will only end in even more suffering for Chris if he's the one to make the deal; she can't accept that outcome.

"I know I may not have a choice, but if there is one, at least let me make the deal. Maybe I can't negotiate it in a way that's satisfactory to all, but if our men are lost and we have to bring them back? I'm not taking any option that puts you at more risk." She huffs a laugh, though there's no humor or joy in it. "I know that's reckless and stupid, but your safety and well-being is worth that to me, Chris. You are worth that. And if you're with me when the deed is done? I'll do whatever it takes."

There's no lie in her voice, no trick or careful manipulation. This is her line in the sand where the people at this table are concerned: if everything falls apart, if there's nothing else they can do, she will be the one to take the fall. It's always been her way. It's in her blood to put them first and to be the one hurt.

This is who she is.

Her expression softens just a little as she frowns. "I love you too much to choose any path that sees you hurt, love. I don't want it to be this way, but I will do everything I can to protect you. Always."

Wolfe is furious, Amelia, predictably, offers to throw herself on the sword, and Jon knows Chris is only going to bristle and entrench. The cleric has made a decision, and he's going to hold to it, regardless of what any of them say or want. He'll reject Amelia's offer, no doubt, insist he knows better, that he's cleverer, that he's prepared this time. And he'll just go behind her back if he has to because that's the sort of man Chris Sonom is when it comes to those he loves.

Unfortunately, it's also the sort of man Jonathan Sims can be, as well.

Chris might turn to Bane in a moment of desperation, but what if someone else had already made a deal? They need to deal with what's in the Shadowfell, and see if Mystra is an option. If not... if not, then Jon can make his own attempts at contact. Maybe Chris would have more luck, but they're connected. It might at least intrigue Bane enough to give the Archivist an audience.

"This argument is moot until it actually comes to that," Jon says, continuing to poke at the remainder of his food. He knows he ought to eat more, but he's grown used to just... not. And his appetite is still aimed toward more metaphysical tastes at the moment. "Let's find out if Mystra is an option before biting each other's heads off."

Wolfe’s silent anger he can manage, but Amelia’s impassioned bid to do as she always did, always does, and make an unasked for martyr of herself stokes anger in him that nearly chokes him. For all he appreciates their wanting to protect him, it suddenly feels like clumsy stomping on a fragile balance that is his and his alone.

He can’t trust any of them with this if they’re all going to trip on themselves to undo years of his own actions. Or Chris’ actions…

Gods, none of this might even matter if he’s deemed superfluous. Which feels like salt in the wound in that moment.

His expression goes icy and his chin tilts up as he locks eyes on Amelia.

“Your grand gesture of self sacrifice loses meaning when it’s the only song you know how to sing, lady Royer. Luckily for all of you, none of this matters right now or potentially ever. The conversation is over. Permanently. It has no bearing on tomorrow or any time in the immediate future. If you’ll excuse me, I missed my period for prayer this morning, I need to plan what spells I’ll need for the morning.”

He stands with all the detached chill of the nobility he wasn’t and cleans up his dishes.

With the animals fed and snoozing, there’s little left to distract himself and the temple is suddenly too closed in.

The temple door doesn’t make a sound when he takes up his scythe and steps outside.

Stop.

He doesn't get the word out in response to Amelia's theoretical martyrdom before Jon is clearly thinking the same thing of himself and Chris turns colder than the temperature that's just receded around Wolfe himself. None of this is the way to go about this, not when its all born of a place of love. Desperate, clinging, and fearful but love all the same. None of them want each other hurt whether they'll be around for it or not, and they are all of them self destructive about it for various reasons. They've lost too much, they fear being alone, they fear being the reason they deserve to be alone. They're in free fall and all they have is each other. Especially Chris, who was supposed to have his Guardians and his position to leverage. Now all he thinks he has is his celestial connections and he's going to damn well use them, but he's been told for the second time today not to use what he has for the benefit of the only people he has left.

They're making him feel useless.

Wolfe breathes out as Chris takes his dishes, a puff of vapor visible in the still cold room. He squeezes Amelia's hand and releases, standing as Chris disappears out the door.

"Stay here," he says in a tone that is kind but still brokers no argument from either of their remaining companions, and then he's out the door too.

"Chris, wait!" he jogs to catch up, aware he's naked again but honestly at this point it just doesn't matter.

Jon tries to cut in without any force behind his words. Chris seethes and retreats. Wolfe grows cold with stress and follows. And Amelia... lets it all happen without comment.

Fuck this. Fuck her for trying. She's too tired for this.

Without a word, she takes all of the dinner dishes and combines what little's left into two bowls she lays out for the girls. The rest get set aside so she can find some sort of cutting board or other strikable surface in the kitchen. Then she returns to the table, takes up all her knives, and walks to one of the rooms set aside for resting. At the door, she pauses to look over her shoulder at Jon.

"I don't want to be disturbed, not by anyone. Give the others warning that I'll aim for any hands that try to open this door before I come out of it." She's tired. Tired of trying and failing, getting yelled at for her efforts, or being told what she's offering is worthless in some way. Tired of the grief that won't let go of her because of the walls that surround her body and heart. Tired of getting so close to having something good only to have it ripped away at the last possible moment.

She needs clarity. She needs purpose, and the people around her won't let her have that in ways she thinks will help and offer nothing in return when they tell her 'no'. She's done with it for the night. Let Wolfe take care of Chris where she can't. Let the cleric sleep surrounded by those he loves. Let them all find solace in each other in ways she's incapable of giving.

Let her suffer alone and away from everyone so they can find their feet and she can pretend to find hers. All she needs to do is push it down long enough to sleep and get through their time in the Shadowfell. Nothing else she does or says matters right now.

She never mattered anyway.

What a merry little hell this has all gone to. Jon regrets raising the topic, but it's something that ought to be addressed. Chris runs off, Wolfe follows, and there's Amelia taking his plate and knife away without bothering to ask. He doesn't stop her, but it might have been nice to at least have the option.

It would also be nice if he couldn't hear her thoughts continuing to ping in his head. "I'll tell them. But for god's sake, get over yourself. You clearly matter or Chris wouldn't care about you sacrificing yourself for him." He makes an irritated sound as he snatches up the book he'd been reading and retreats to the room where he'd found it.

He misses having the network and his phone to text Jamie to complain about something or other. He misses having Morrigan or Martin to turn to for commiseration. He misses the library he'd been building with Ororo and the sense of purpose it had given him.

Jon pulls down another book, this one a general tome on the gods of Faerun. He flips to a random page.

"'Chauntea is our Mother Great,
Hers is the hearth and home.
Our harvests on Her blessing wait
Thus we reap what we've sown.'"

He recites the brief poem clumsily in Common to an empty room, and it feels like it rings in the silence. His eyes catch on some of the web patterns in one corner before they follow along to a raven bookend on one of the shelves. "Do you listen to what's going on inside your temple?" he asks it with a heavy sigh. "I imagine we're making a rather poor showing of ourselves at the moment. Sorry. At least they can kill some undead tomorrow. I'll... document it, I guess? Record it, maybe?" He pulls out his tape recorder. "I doubt you've ever seen one of these. If you do drop by... I suppose you can have one of the tapes."

There's a long pause before Jon shakes his head.

"I need a cigarette."

As soon as he steps outside and feels the slight midday chill on his chest, he remembers the clothes and grits his teeth in frustration. It wasn't actually a big deal, especially when he still had real smalls to wear still, but it was just one more thing.

He'd hoped that might be enough to keep others from following him, but apparently not.

Wolfe's call to him just serves as kindling to his anger and he whirls around, scythe behind him, but arm outstretched before him. Antilife Shell bursts up around him in the distance between them and pushes Wolfe back a couple of feet.

"I know you're observant enough to know when someone is angry, Wolfe. Not every one benefits from a hug and a kiss to feel better. I don't want to have this conversation and I'm tired of people pushing me to talk when there's nothing to say! You've already shown you won't listen regardless."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: brief refrence to self-harming tendencies

no subject

no subject

no subject

Deception 7

no subject

Insight 24

Insight 11; Stealth 18

no subject

no subject

Perception 29

no subject

no subject

nat 20 insight for 33. crit buff: Moment of clarity

no subject

no subject

no subject