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Entry tags:
(open) pitch black, pale blue
WHO: Saoirse + open
WHAT: phylactery unfun fun times
WHEN: middle to late Guardian
WHERE: the Gallows proper and Kirkwall's alienage
NOTES: ooc notes + mentions of torture and other bad business that comes from some unknown messing around with a vial filled with your blood.
WHAT: phylactery unfun fun times
WHEN: middle to late Guardian
WHERE: the Gallows proper and Kirkwall's alienage
NOTES: ooc notes + mentions of torture and other bad business that comes from some unknown messing around with a vial filled with your blood.
— disorient.One would think, as Saoirse once called the Gallows her home, that getting lost in its halls would be quite the feat. She has a routine, one that she carries out daily but lately she has found it easier to stray off matters for sometimes hours at a time. At first she thinks that these past few weeks dealing with the unknown sickness and then being trapped withing these walls had taken a toll on her but this was getting ridiculous. Sometimes it is as simple as taking the wrong turn, picking up the wrong book or threading her needles wrong but at other times she finds it worrying—
It comes to a head when she finds herself wondering into rooms and offices that are far from where she should be going. Sometimes she carries laundry or her papers, idly staring off as if in deep thought before snapping back into focus with a startled sound once she realizes something is amiss.
"I... I'm terribly sorry," she manages to stutter out. Unable to hide how red her face becomes in embarrassment. "I was trying to find—"
Wait... just where was she going?
— weakness.Her confusion is troubling enough but the utter exhaustion is another story. Though it felt a lie to call it exhaustion because she was not tired but, at times, it was harder to get herself up and going. Sometimes she was sit for longer periods of time afraid her legs would give out if she were to stand and,
at other times, unable to barely even consider lifting her arms. Even thinking about it exhausting and she spends much more time asleep, hoping that resting will solve the sudden rash of issues that have cropped up.
Yet she cannot sleep forever and ventures out when she has the strength though there is no telling when her body will give out, sending her plummeting to her knees and weakly grasping at anything to keep herself from falling completely over.
— shock.She has few talents outside of the school of entropy but lightning spells have always come easy to her, easier to control than ice or fire. Perhaps that is why it is more startling when random bolts being springing off her as if they are trying to play some sort of cruel game. As the days pass the strength of the electricity only grows to where she fears drawing too close to water least her magic conduct onto it and through whomever happened to be nearby.
Simply staying away from water isn't enough as she proves one day in the library. Saoirse is busily studying, reaching old family with hard ties to the Chantry when it happens with a literal boom. A spark of magic ignites, a powerful burst of lighting arcing in the room before expanding outside in the large explosion of sound and magical energy. It seemingly rattles everything, knocking books to the floor and sending paper flying.
The center of the magical explosion is crouched on her knees once it clears, hugging herself and trying (yet failing) not to shake.
— entropic cloud.Perhaps it is no surprise that she ultimately finds herself in the old Harrowing chamber. It is oppressive as she remembers even though it no longer occupied, no longer used as it once was like the night she was pulled from her bed and brought here. Perhaps she also knows that not many would wander here either which leaves her alone to her thoughts and her worries. As she paces there is a weakness in her steps that grow and she worries that another spell of weakness is coming on but it proves much worse—
Slowly an inky black cloud beings to seep out around her, immediately zapping her of her strength and sending her harshly tumbling to the ground. She tries to bite it back, reel it in but the entropic mass of energy continues to billow out and cover the room like a blanket. It's a sight that take her back to nightmares as a small girl and from a time when her magic scared her, and in truth? She is scared now.
"Stop it, stop it, stop it..." It's a mantra now, words she mumbles and weakly tries to pull everything back in.
— wildcard.Feel free to wildcard any of the above mentioned spells up, or hit me up for an aftermath thread.
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She let's out a shaken sound, tightening the hug she has around herself and wishing this pain would just stop. "I thought it impossible but perhaps Warden Serra is right. Perhaps this has to do with my phylactery, I never once thought about it after the Circles fell and maybe that was a mistake."
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"...where is it?" he asks helplessly, the sword lowering, though he keeps it in-hand. It's nothing personal: Saoirse is a mage acting erratically, and he knows better than to let down his guard.
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"A good question," she finally manages. "When I came to Kirkwall, the First Enchanter took my blood since I assume our phylacteries in Starkhaven were destroyed but after that there was little talk of them. Nothing was ever said of them by the former Knight-Commander?"
Honestly there were plenty of rumors, sure. That Meredith kept them in her personal quarters or other made up stories to pass the time.
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"...no," he admits, thinking back, his brow quirking uneasily at the recollection. Those memories are dangerous to poke, that whole era of his life a mass of horrors he's spent half a decade trying to forget.
"They were locked to Knight-Captains and above," he explains, "I never knew where they were." He had been a Lieutenant at the time of the battle of Kirkwall, becoming Captain only briefly and long after it mattered to anyone.
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"I see." Very slowly she breathes out a sigh and slowly lets herself relax though she does not move from her spot on the ground. "It's a shame the Commander returned to Skyhold though it worries me that the same might be happening to mages stationed there as well."
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"...um..." he stammers, looking at the ground, "...what can I do?"
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She does not wish to be the monster that Meredith made her and other mages out to be in her time here. It's then that she has a thought, harsh but coming easily when she feels herself already at the end of her rope. "Perhaps assistance looking through the old storerooms too. Given the paranoia we lived through, I find it hard to believe that there is not some magebane still lingering in this place."
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"I'll take a look."
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"Thank you." Her voice is breathless but the smile she offers is warm, the little bit she can offer in this moment. "We can go together. I don't... I rather not stay here."
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Not knowing what else to do, Cade awkwardly extends his arm for her to take, in case she has trouble walking.
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"Thank you," she mumbles and visibly relaxes. "Perhaps it is best to check the old Templar tower first? That or... perhaps the dungeon?"
If there is one place she never wishes to visit again, it is the old dungeon and their murky cells but if it can help then it is a risk she must take.
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