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makinglies2025-11-29 09:05 pm
lysoke) wrote in makinglies2025-11-29 09:05 pm
Entry tags:
The Shadowfell
Shadowfell
During the early, blue dawn of the morning, a hole opens in the Material Plane. The energy hums no differently than it had in the facility in Duplicity that had brought them here in the first place. This time, however, just before breaching the glowing white surface of light, a chill greets those who pass through. One, two, three, four shadows step through the light before it closes with barely a pop of energy beside the austere white marble of the recently recast temple.
Waiting on the other side of the gate is a land of barren monochrome. Plants like ash, rivers with the consistency of blood, and pools of thick, dripping ichor decorate a land of black and grey stone that connects to an equally grey sky. The life, like the color, seems gone from the land, and where there should have been unearthly silence, there were low murmurs and ominous creaks and noises that didn't quite make sense at the periphery of everything.
The landscape, at least, could not be called flat. Great, black mountains broke the dim, grey sky like blotches of ink on canvas. Even the group of armed visitors stood now upon a tall, but sloping hill marked with a single, gnarled tree. At the foot of the hill, ahead of the group, sat the hazy, black scar of what was once a city.
Spires of buildings stood as broken bones in the place Melvaunt had as its mirror, with the shattered docks even dipping into a charcoal ocean beyond it. Maléfell, once a town inhabited and infested in equal measure with ghosts, gasts, dopplegangers, and malice, now festers with a malevolent haze that visibly shrouds the city. At its edges, just outside the haze, is a pulsating mass. It's upon closer inspection that the mass gains definition: bodies. Undead. Skeletons. Ghosts haunting black ooze and rotted corpses that press at the Darkland's edges, daring to neither venture in nor go too far from their home.
Hundreds of the displaced mill about, gorging on more of the black ichor that fills the waterways into the city. Here they wait, trapped, the sounds of them muffled and nearly silent in the blanketing nothing of the Plane around them.
Waiting on the other side of the gate is a land of barren monochrome. Plants like ash, rivers with the consistency of blood, and pools of thick, dripping ichor decorate a land of black and grey stone that connects to an equally grey sky. The life, like the color, seems gone from the land, and where there should have been unearthly silence, there were low murmurs and ominous creaks and noises that didn't quite make sense at the periphery of everything.
The landscape, at least, could not be called flat. Great, black mountains broke the dim, grey sky like blotches of ink on canvas. Even the group of armed visitors stood now upon a tall, but sloping hill marked with a single, gnarled tree. At the foot of the hill, ahead of the group, sat the hazy, black scar of what was once a city.
Spires of buildings stood as broken bones in the place Melvaunt had as its mirror, with the shattered docks even dipping into a charcoal ocean beyond it. Maléfell, once a town inhabited and infested in equal measure with ghosts, gasts, dopplegangers, and malice, now festers with a malevolent haze that visibly shrouds the city. At its edges, just outside the haze, is a pulsating mass. It's upon closer inspection that the mass gains definition: bodies. Undead. Skeletons. Ghosts haunting black ooze and rotted corpses that press at the Darkland's edges, daring to neither venture in nor go too far from their home.
Hundreds of the displaced mill about, gorging on more of the black ichor that fills the waterways into the city. Here they wait, trapped, the sounds of them muffled and nearly silent in the blanketing nothing of the Plane around them.
no subject
"Then when we've completed our task for Mystra and are full citizens of this plane, the first thing I want to do is to marry you." Dreams, she can barely get the words out for how they all try to tumble out at once. She laughs brightly, happily, and tugs him in for another kiss. "With our family watching and involved, however we want and need them to be." Chris and Wolfe will have to decide what they want for their lives together, but if they decide to make that their wedding day too? There's nothing that would make her happier than to have him join them.
no subject
Its Tranquility that stays his tongue.
He remembers the vacant stares and relentless calm of the Tranquil that wandered the gallows, the ones that 'belonged' to certain Templars. He remembers Karl telling Anders he didn't feel anything anymore, then begging to be killed in a moment of lucidity. If that goes wrong, if Wolfe's made Tranquil permanently... He can't tether them to him like a weight. She's right. They should wait until they're in the Weave.
"The first thing," he agrees, joy barely dampened in the face of his racing thoughts. "We'll need coin for proper clothes, too, but thats it. Just us four, Chris can do the ceremonies. I think he can? Can he do that for himself?"
no subject
"I have no idea, love, but we can talk with him about it when he gets back. As for our clothes, we'll get all the money we can in Bastila and buy ourselves something magnificent for the day. With luck, I'll have our new crest figured out and can embroider it into everything." If not, she'll figure out something else for each of them.
Her smile warms as she leans in for another kiss. "It'll be perfect. Whatever we do, whatever we say to one another or wear, it'll be a perfect day, for all of us."
no subject
The kiss is sweet and needy, not in the way of needing more but simply in the need of her. Every step forward and back that they've made for the whole of their relationship, every time they drove each other crazy and every time one stood for the other when they couldn't stand alone. He needs all of it, wants all of it, for the rest of their lives.
For the rest of eternity.
And that desire, that fervent wish, is encompassed in that kiss.
no subject
"I love you," she whispers between one kiss and the next, smile shining as she leans over him. This time, the tears crowding her eyes are pure happiness and joy. They're going to be together for the rest of their lives, both mortal and beyond. What else could she possibly want? "I love you, and I will always love you. Now and forever."
Forever and however much longer the Raven Queen asks of them. The thought makes her smile brighten even more as she captures his lips again and drags her fingers through his hair to help him feel her love and devotion as deeply as he can.