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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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"Perhaps we should consider returning to Skyhold in the meantime." It is said tiredly, at the end of her rope. "We, and others, would be safer with us in the mountains versus one of the biggest Marcher cities."
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