[Open] [Phylactery Shenanigans] To See The Truth

[mal_adjusted]

WHO: Mal Draco and You
WHAT: Hey who wants to see a mage overload on spells?
WHEN: Guardian, before the resolution
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Can do individual starters, just message me, otherwise OOC notes, warnings for AOE Earthquake damage

Mal had not been feeling well recently - in fact she felt like utter crap. To that end, instead of being able to do her report for Thrandruil or painting, one could usually find her in the corner of the library curled under a blanket with a book. That or traveling back from her room with Carolus to the kitchens, then back again. She didn't go to the healers tents - two of her foster brothers WERE healers - but she did have to make her way across the courtyard. During any of those times, one might see Mal and then -

Sleep

It was like a puppet with strings and those strings were cut. She would be walking, paler than her already milk-white skin, and then suddenly she would just drop. Dead asleep at the drop of a hat. It did not matter if she was walking upstairs or down, across the cold courtyard or in her own rooms. She just ... dropped.

Vulnerability Hex

This one was more random - and it simply seemed like whenever she went, accidents happened. She would stop, put a hand to her stomach, and then if someone happened to bang their hand with their hammer ... they broke the hand instead of bruising it. Small cuts became larger ones. There was a general feeling of weakness, as Mal stumbled away, that faded after a few minutes.

Curse of Mortality

This one took on something more of a frightening edge. Mal would be doing what she would be doing - getting a bowl of soup, or huddled under her blanket. Perhaps weakly picking up her quill to try to do some work. Almost immediately, a red haze surrounded her and she would gasp. She would go down to her knees, curling up on herself as if she had been badly injured, except no one knew from what. The fall alone would cause her extreme pain, and she often bit back screams of pains into a grunt as she tried to struggle back to her feet.

Crushing Prison

This was, by far, the worse. Standing still, a glowing purple cage would surround Mal without warning. Her entire body would go tight, lifting off the ground as it appeared the spell was crushing her from the outside in. Sooner or later, the pain would be too much and she would just start screaming ... until it ended, and she would fall to the ground, whimpering.

Earthquake - AOE

One of the worst for everyone else though ... was when Mal started Earthquakes. It was fine for anyone standing still. The earth trembled, but they still managed to keep their feet. Anyone else though, was knocked prone and unable to move for a long time, as the ground around Mal rippled and writhed. She herself would stand there, her eyes wide as she frantically tried to counter the magic for anyone around her, but with little effect.

Comments

[castintoflames]

"This is a...habit?" he immediately wondered if it was a health condition or a spell. The latter was far less disturbing - as strange as it might sound. Magic was...fixable. It lost strength over-time (hopefully).

"I have no magic beyond the natural skill gifted to all Elvenkind." which was mostly true. He had inherited equal measures of his father's skill in the Forge and his mother's skill with sculpting.

"The Elves of Arda are...different. We do not openly practice magic." his lips twitched, "Tell me of this problem, hm?"

[mal_adjusted]

"No - it's not something that happened before. Just recently. Maybe I have a new kind of magical flu." Her smile is tight, her green eyes blazing with anger for a moment ... and fear.

"Oh. Well. Then ... you ... live for a really long time? Or at least you all used to so maybe you do again." She pauses, then answers honestly, "I don't know. I just know that I keep passing out, or magic is being done on me and it's taking it's toll."

A pause, then, "Wait, who are you?"

[castintoflames]

"Considering the illness that plagued many of us before, I would not be surprised." his voice was low and calm. He could sense her fear and he wanted to lessen it.

"I have lived for over four thousand years." and he would have lived longer if he hadn't leapt to his death, "My brother is much older now." maybe closer to nine thousand.

"Have you spoken to any Mages? Anders seems to have a penchant for healing." he smiled faintly, "I am Maedhros."

[mal_adjusted]

She slowly sat up, breathing out sharply. Feeling the blood coming back to his mind. "Oh, did you suffer that? ... then you're an elf Rifter."

Which was an entirely different kettle of fish. Her gaze became curious, as she tipped his head to the side. "I...actually have a healer brother. Adopted brother. Well two of them Technically. So yes ... I have. They don't know what's wrong with me either."

She tasted his name on her lips, "Maedhros. My name is Mal."

[castintoflames]

"Were the native Elves immune to it? I...cannot recall much of it. I must have been feverish. I know I was blue." he grimaced, giving a small sigh, "I suggest you stay on bed rest, then. If you had hit the ground, you could have injured yourself irreparably."

Head injuries were awful - he had seen many of them.

"Well met, Mal. I hail from the same world as King Thranduil and my cousin Lady Galadriel. They seem to be the best known."

[mal_adjusted]

"The ones that live in Thedas, yes." She made a face, "I saw a lot of the ill, turning blue. Are you ... well. I needed to eat, Carolus was doing his healing thing. I thought I'd be okay to get to the kitchens."

Apparently. Not.

"Ah! SO you know my boss's boss." The faintest of smirks.

[castintoflames]

"Interesting." he gave her a distinctly fatherly look, "So you are hungry? That cannot help your condition." he moved away to find something to eat. Bread would be best - something substantial.

"Yes?" Maedhros came back with a loaf on a plate, "He was little more than a child in my memory. Now he is a magnificent king."

[mal_adjusted]

She returns his look blankly, because honestly, no one has ever given a fatherly look. However, the differences in their ages is super, super obvious so she gives him the same look that she gives Sam.

"I can ... always eat." She looks at the loaf of bread hungrily.

[castintoflames]

She was overdue and Maedhros had a ridiculous amount of experience in rearing younglings. Sadly, however, he had never had the joy of being a father. At least not a biological father.

"I thought so." he handed her the plate and a small knife to cut the bread if need be, "You are young."

[mal_adjusted]

Well, here, have another one. She's small but spiky. She also tears into the bread as if she's missed about a half a dozen meals. Considering how tiny she is, that might even be true.

She hacked off another slice, giving him a dry look. "You're four thousand years old. I'm nineteen. Pretty sure everyone but your people looks like a baby to you. Your frame of reference is flawed, Maedhros."

[castintoflames]

"Believe it or not..." he spoke slowly, taking a seat nearby while she ate, "I have a foster-son who is a Man. I know when they are grown; you have a long journey ahead of you."

And there wasn't anything wrong with that. He wished he could go back to being an Elfling.

[mal_adjusted]

She looks over at him curiously, as she takes another huge bite out of her bread. Another faint snort, "Well, yeah. I'm not exactly a senior anything around here. Just because I'm young doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about, though."

[castintoflames]

"That is what I mean right there." he smirked, but it wasn't a cruel expression, "You are eager to fight. You are eager to have your voice heard."

Those were never bad traits, but maturity tended to make them...less important.

"Remember to listen as much as you speak."