we're all so upset about the disappearing ground

[thunderproof]

WHO: Adalia (thunderproof), Gwenaëlle (elegiaque), others
WHAT: Adalia is Not Having A Great Time with this illness stuff. She has a panic attack, prays to some gods.
WHEN: Throughout illness phases two and three.
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: CW for anxiety/panic attacks. Subject to adding more threads throughout the plot/month.

i. for gwenaëlle — you say i choose sadness, that it never once has chosen me

Really, she's taken this illness about as well as could be expected up to now. She's kept a positive attitude, she's helped where and when she could, she got quite a bit done — even when her magic started becoming unmanageable, all she did was send Charis to Myr and isolate herself to keep from hurting anyone. If that had been the worst of it, she probably could have made it through this whole thing without panicking.

It's not, though, and she can't.

Losing her magic is — it's like losing her self. It's worse than selling off her soul. Not having a soul hasn't had any negative effects, at least, she just doesn't have one.By rights, losing her magic should be the same. It's not as though lightning and thunder magic have a lot of practical applications outside of combat, right, she doesn't use it every day like some of the natives do. But even if she doesn't use it, she still has it. She can feel that wellspring of power within her, and knows that if she reaches for it, lightning will leap into her palm and thunder will clap wherever she wills it. Now that wellspring is gone, and Adalia can't — she can't. She managed to go a few days after the realization without outright panicking. The period of unmanageable magic only lasted three days, so maybe unusable magic will last just as long.

Adalia's spent the whole of the fourth day in the Gallows courtyard, trying to call anything — sparks, a pop of sound, anything to her fingertips, but as the day goes on, it becomes apparent that there won't be anything. Her magic is gone, entirely, and nothing Adalia tries is going to work. The sun is beginning to go down and Adalia is stood in the middle of the courtyard, staring at her hands, cold dread spreading from the pit of her stomach throughout her whole body. The cold reaches her lungs and Adalia's breath begins to come in shallow gasps, it reaches her heart and it races — she can't see, she can't think, this isn't happening, she can't be losing this, too —

Her world is shattering into pieces, the delicate balance of positivity and denial tipping into despair, and all Adalia can do is stare at her hands unseeing, frozen in place.

ii. open — my mouth will just turn to dust if i don't tell you quick

Adalia's not much one for prayer. She never has been, not even back on Toril where she knew the gods were listening — less out of a lack of care for them than a lack of belief that she needed them. She's prayed twice in her life, though, to two different gods, and each time she got a response.

This is just another plane. That's what she's believed this whole time, no matter what any native says, and so — so Bahamut should still be listening, right? She hasn't heard from Alacruun since she was spat out of the rift, but that doesn't mean he's not listening. She just has to reach for them, and they'll hear her. They are not like Thedas' Maker. Bahamut would never turn his back on his followers. Alacruun wouldn't turn his back on her.

It was difficult to decide on an appropriate place to pray to both of them. In the end, she opted to go for one of the smaller chapels — if any Andrastian were to walk in, she'd probably be driven out for blasphemy, but she doesn't care. There's power in places, and the natives call upon their Maker and his bride here. Adalia needs as much help as she can get for her words to reach through the Divine Gate.

Maybe she's walked in on while praying to Bahamut — "I apologize, Platinum Dragon, but I don't know any formal prayers. I've never been a religious person, but I pray to you now with an earnest heart, and I hope that's enough. I chose wrong when I reached for Alacruun before you, I know that, but I — I know, too, that you haven't abandoned me. You're just and good, and I am doing my best to be the same. Please — Bahamut, Justicemaker, help me. Point me in the right direction, show me what I've missed. If not for my sake, then for all the others here who've fallen ill. We need guidance, and I know illness is not your purview, but I believe you can help us. Please help us."

Or perhaps when praying to Alacruun, after hours of prayer to Bahamut with no answer — "You've been quiet but I know you, Alacruun, you're not gone. You wouldn't give me up that easily. But what good am I to you if I have no magic? Help me, give me some of that knowledge you've collected. Lead me down the right path. I can't be your high priestess if I'm dead, or without magic. Come on, you fuck, answer me!"

Comments

[thunderproof]

"Might as well, you know?" she confirms, shrugging somewhat helplessly. There isn't too terribly much else she can do, and as someone for whom inaction does not come easy, this has not been a particularly enjoyable time. Sickness she could deal with, though it would be unpleasant. Loss of her magic, her ability to be useful... that she takes less well.

Even so, this is all moot, since — "No, no answer. It could be a few different things but as a man once said, the simplest explanation is usually the right one. There's no answer because he can't hear me, because he has no connection to this plane."

Which is... a distressing thought all on its own. Adalia's assumption had always been that this is just another plane, as connected to Toril as the Shadowfell or the Feywild. The deities may go by different names, the rules governing magic and people may be different, but surely there could be nothing outside the Great Wheel. That this may not, in fact, be the case... Adalia doesn't know what to do with that idea.

She smiles at Elros though, shrugging. She tries to keep up a happy presentation, even when everything is going to shit.

"Not dead, so that's nice, I suppose. You?"

[tar_minyatur]

"I guess it was too much to hope for." He sighs.

"Then again, I suppose when the Master Bard complains he can't touch the song of the world properly I shouldn't be surprised the world is so far separate that we can't reach our guardians." He smiles at her weakly. "Although once again, I am surprised that your world puts such faith in dragons! How is Charis doing?"

He's not sure who he's trying to distract with his chatter, her or himself.

"I've felt better. Felt worse too? It's not as bad as the time with the Necromancer?"

[thunderproof]

Adalia is used to hearing words she understands in different contexts now — bard, for instance, means something very different here than it does on Toril. But Elros says it in a way she understands — bards use song to make magic, where she's from, and it sounds like on Arda it's similar. That makes her feel... better. Even if just for a moment.

Thedas is strange and in many ways unfathomable to her, but there are still elements of all that she finds familiar, even in other worlds. The Great Wheel is not bullshit, it's just... greater than maybe she had been taught. Maybe they're on an outer rim, one the gods just can't reach.

The small smile that had begun to creep across her lips drops entirely at the mention of Charis, and Adalia frowns deeply.

"Much the same as us, I'm afraid, only it's harder for him to understand illness than it is for us. I'm trying to keep him as carefree as I can, but he's been growing increasingly terrified. I hope this ends soon for his sake even for than mine."

As distractions go, it wasn't Elros' best work. That next thing, though, that's better.

"Necromancer? What?"

[tar_minyatur]

Elros sees the smile drop and he curses inwardly - he's not trying to make her feel worse damnit.

But she seizes on the next statement and he's only too glad to take the option offered.

"Yeah! You know that trip recently to the other city? There was a catacomb visit, and all the dead started attacking." He makes a face. "Must have been a Necromancer. But it's not the first time, of course. The Enemy was very fond of enslaving the spirits of the dead. Elrond and I had to defeat one to reclaim Amon Hen, during the War, but they were a sadly far too common foe."