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Post by demikara on Feb 6, 2021 15:10:09 GMT -6
"I consider myself lucky you are here now, given how much wiser you are than me." Tyrus admitted. "With my luck, and given how much more magical the ingredients would be, I'd probably end up in a coma." Which wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his solstice. The entire situation was one giant mess and he wasn't happy it was happening at all. To think that one miscalculation would have changed his life this much. Now he was hiding in the fae lands from a mad man while going out of his mind with magic twice a year.
"We should be safe here regardless." That was the important part.
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Post by Circe on Feb 6, 2021 18:40:43 GMT -6
"Probably wise to forego it then." She agreed. All things considered though, Tyrus winding up in a coma wouldn't be so bad, it might actually keep the insanity surrounding the mage to a dull roar for once. "And don't flatter me Tyrus, we both know I'm far from the brains of whatever this operation is." Clever at times perhaps, and even politically savvy, but wisdom wasn't a characteristic she associated with herself. Wise people didn't end up in situations like this, and often had the forethought to think ahead to any consequences to their actions. They also knew when to shut up and not keep provoking groups like the Council.
"But it is settled. You will shelter at the ruins and I'll go further afield, at least until I can't go any further without risking crown lands or other things."
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Post by demikara on Feb 7, 2021 12:21:58 GMT -6
The two locations had been warded thoroughly after dinner, and he had found some quartz to tie to the wards to let Catherine in her warded spot without being directed to look past it. She had enough willpower, she probably would have been fine, but making a key to the wards had made more sense. Then they had gotten some sleep the night before because they had an early morning, riding out to their location. The ruins were decent enough and he chose a spot where he had a whisper of shelter at least and could make himself somewhat comfortable. They had a solstice to get through and he had to somehow make it through without going blind again. His horse, the placid one they had stolen, was settled in the ruins as well, far enough away to be safe from his magic and close enough to be safe from anything else. It had been the work of moments to transfigure a troth for the horse, before his magic got too out of hand, and to pull enough water from the air that said horse would have plenty to drink.
There were definite advantages to being so magical. Pulling water from the air wasn't his specialty. Elemental magic in general wasn't. But he had enough magic at hand to brute force things like that. He had made the spot he had decided to rest more comfortable as well, though he did at least have a bed roll for this trip, a far cry from what he had before hand. He had a water skein at well, and some food that wouldn't go bad for being outside all day.
There wasn't much more he could do to prepare. At this point, it was a matter of waiting it out.
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Post by Circe on Feb 7, 2021 16:58:49 GMT -6
Catherine had kitted herself out similarly, and had left her own horse near a small stream with shallow banks before continuing deeper into the forest. The poor creature had not been terribly eager to have a rider again and be taken from the warm, comfortable stable it had grown to rather enjoy. But the horse supposed that being picketed by a small stream, and with plenty to graze on wasn't so bad either. His rider, a strange but kind woman as far as it was concerned, had even seen fit to remove the saddle before leaving an apple or two to eat.
As she journeyed further into the forest, Catherine looked for a small clearing she had come to many times as a child. Times when she had threatened to run away from home, tired of her tutors and tired of her father's strict rules about behavior. Like any child with the resources she'd had, Catherine had taken a horse and rode as far as she thought she could before stopping. Somehow her father had always found her, and carried her home while listening to her tell him about how one day she would ride far away and have grand adventures as a lady knight in service to the Queen. But, she always fell asleep before she could tell him just what kind of adventures she would have.
The magic as always, constantly threatened to pull her into its depths, and Catherine wasn't sure she could make it out without loosing what little of herself she had left.
Finding the place she was looking for, she settled herself down onto the ground atop the makeshift bedroll, comprised of a thin pad stuffed with wool and straw with a woolen blanket should the night grow especially cold.
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Post by demikara on Feb 7, 2021 17:26:22 GMT -6
The first part of the day was bearable. Boring, but at least he had time to meditate. And meditation was about all he could do anyway, trying to at the least keep above the tide of magic that threatened to pull him under. he had to be able to breath through the magic. And he was fairly certain being in this realm had just made the magic that much more intense. It was certainly pushing harder at him than it had six months ago. It was a good thing the horse was away enough to be safe, given he knew he was shedding magic like nothing else right now. He could see the effect it had on the ruins. The very air seemed to shimmer, and the stone of the ruins held his magic close.
He didn't want to feed the magic to the ground here. That had created the artificial ley pool at his ranch and he didn't want a repeat of that foul up. But it didn't seem like he was having much of a choice in where the magic went anyway. He had stitched anti-magic runes on his bedroll at least, so it wasn't effected, but everything else was quickly a riot of chaos. Without him directing it, the magic spread and did what he had long trained it too. It transfigured things into absolutely nonsense. Small stones became tiny toy soldiers from another century entirely, a riot of colors decorating them in fine detail. His training with Xiaolian had paid off on his fine control after all, and that was clear on the details he was casting now. The stones of the ruins became iridescent, shimmering in the low light that came through the tree cover. The grass grew longer and tangled him up, holding him down to the ground and a vine crept up his hair. Annoyed, he pulled loose from the grasses and the vines only to stumble before he could move.
It was solar noon.
The magic peaked and crashed over him. Tyrus gasped as his muscles seized and he fell to the ground, catching himself at least, before his muscles game out and he lay on the ground, magic flowing through him and around him, pouring through his blood and filling his body until it overflowed. It burned and soothed all at the same time, both the greatest pleasure and the greatest pain he had dealt with. The mage couldn't help the scream that ripped from his throat, scaring the birds away.
He passed out abruptly, unable to handle the magic any more. It was a solid hour before he came to, magic still pulsing through him, but gentler this time. Carefully, he opened his eyes. Everything was in the grey scale he had come to expect, or rather, it was a riot of magical colors that really didn't go together. The fae realm was like that, and really there were times he regretted only being able to see the colors of magic. Right now, in ruins that were definitely more intensely magical than they had been before the solstice, it was largely nature magic, a bright yellow-orange, combined with the transfiguration magic he had managed to funnel the solstice through, a deep aqua blue. It was not, he decided, the best looking combination out there, but it could be a lot worse. There was no fuchsia ritual magic tossed in there after all. He pulled his braid around to pull any leaves and dirt out of it only to stop a moment as he took in the change.
It could, he supposed, have become a very light blond. It wasn't like he could tell the exact color anyway, any more. But for all intents and purposes, it looked like, past the bright glow of balanced magic, to be white. Pure as snow white.
Magical trauma, he reminded himself, did that. It changed the hair at a genetic level and bleached it whiter than it could ever be without hair dye involved. His hair had gone from a lovely black, to white. Great. Magical trauma meant he now matched his sire in appearance. His hair, which he knew he held to precious to a perhaps extreme level, was now white. The texture at least, seemed to be the same. That was good. But it didn't change the fact that he now had white hair.
"Alqarf." Shit. There was a moment as he realized he spoke arabic and not the english he had meant to say, and he repeated himself, then swore very vividly as he realized he wasn't speaking english as at all. "Hadha min al'afdal 'alaa yakun daymana." This better not be permanent. He had to speak english or fae to communicate with Catherine. He tried a few words in fae, only for arabic to be the result. And, he realized after a moment. It was old arabic, his parent's arabic. This was the more modern version his brother's had taught him at all. Great. No one would understand him at all then. This was going to be fun.
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Post by Circe on Feb 7, 2021 18:25:43 GMT -6
For Catherine, the day was long and exhausting, but for now without much to make note of. Like Tyrus, she decided to not stray far from her small campsite and instead decided that to work through a few of the exercises with the sword like Dùghallach had suggested. If anything it would allow her to keep a modicum of focus, and not allow the magic to overwhelm her terribly as it had earlier in the year. But as the high point of the day approached, she had to stop and was unable to continue any further. The clearing by now had turned into a meadow deep in high summer, shimmering with magic, heavy in the air like an oppressive summer heat. Catherine had thought she was prepared, but she could feel her control waning and the magic's ebb and flow growing stronger by the minute. Soon, she found herself able to do little other than sit and try to breathe through the pain and whatever fresh hell was coming. This year had been more unpredictable each time, and Catherine was almost positive it had something to do with the ritual Tyrus had tried last year. She knew that she was partially to blame for what she had asked for, but she still couldn't help but to feel angry that that was the entire reason they were in this mess.
"Katya, mo nighean ghràdhach! Dè tha thu a 'dèanamh a-nis?" A voice echoed from the edge of the clearing, startling Catherine from her poor attempt to center herself and ride out the next hour. There shouldn't have been anyone for miles, much less someone who would even call her by that name. Anyone who might have, was dead. "Whose there?!" She demanded struggling to her feet, no easy task given what felt like the weight "Dè tha thu a 'dèanamh a-nis?" The voice asked again. The voice was familiar, and with a deepening dread Catherine waited for what undoubtedly was going to come next. "Kit?" It asked again, with concern.
"No, you are not real." Catherine shook her head as she collapsed back down onto the ground. "You are an illusion. A product of this." She told the voice, suppressing the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.
"Dè tha thu a 'ciallachadh?" The voice asked as a form began to materialize into the shape of a tall broad shouldered man with long, shaggy grey hair. Hair that looked like it had been a pleasant sandy brown at one time, and he was clad in an older style of tunic of a deep blue. His face was kind, but also etched with time and worry. Worry for what looked like the woman sitting in the meadow, clearly distraught at his appearance. "Tha an t-àm ann a dhol dhachaigh, nighean amaideach." He said with a smile and stretched out a hand towards Catherine who stared wide eyed and horrified at what was in front of her.
"You're not real! Don't torture me like this!" She exclaimed, loosing hope for what small hold on sanity she ever had. "How can you do this to me? How can you torture me like this?!" Catherine asked as she began to cry. "Have you no care for me?" She demanded with hostility.
"How can a tree stand tall if a rain won't fall to wash its branches down." He replied, unfazed by Catherine's reaction.
"You are dead. I know, I was there." She finally ground out between heavy sobs, on the verge of collapse. "You are a product of... this, and that damnable mage's mistake! Begone!" Catherine commanded desperately.
As the final wave of magic crashed over her, she collapsed unable to take anymore of the strain. Mental or magical.
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Post by demikara on Feb 7, 2021 18:46:59 GMT -6
The waves of magic were still moving through him, but it was an easy enough level to manage now. His magic was still volatile, and he wouldn't cast with it right now, but it was bearable again. Which meant it was time to check on Catherine, since he was certainly more able to move than she was. Or at least, he was solid enough on his feet he could handle things.
The mage eyed the ruins and what he had done to them. They would hold until tomorrow, when he should be able to undo the mess he had made. Or at least, lessen the mess. It was more than a bit chaotic after all, and the tiny toy soldiers were a clear sign he had been there. He picked one up and looked it over. "Well, at least it's not a rubber duck. Someone might be able to convince themselves its a child's toy." Did they make toy soldiers for little fae children? He didn't know. None of them had guns or any modern weapons, so at least they wouldn't stand out too terribly much.
He needed to check on Catherine though, he reminded himself, and he cleaned up his campsite, mounted his horse and set off. He knew where she was, by dint of having warded it, but it would take a bit to get there. The mage dismounted when he saw he own horse and settled his horse next to it. A stream. That was nicer than the horse trough his horse had. Good for it, he supposed.
The magic was thicker as he approached Catherine, and he knelt near her, calling out. He stayed out of arm's reach however, just to be safe. "Catherine. Catherine, hal 'ant bikhayr?" Are you okay? It was still ancient arabic. He tried again. "Astayqz. Laqad aintahaa alainqilab alshamsiu bma yakfi yumkinuna aleawdatu." Wake up. The solstice is over enough we can return. "Hadhih fawdaa. kayf yuftarad bi 'an 'ajaeal nafsi mafhumatan baynama la 'astatie hataa altahaduth biallughat alsahihata? Alainqilab allieayn." This is a mess. How am I supposed to make myself understood when I can't even speak the right language? Fucking solstice. At least he could speak. Hopefully she'd wake up with just that. He wasn't sure how to get her on the horse without he being awake enough to get up there herself.
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Post by Circe on Feb 7, 2021 19:04:56 GMT -6
Catherine lay face down in the middle of the meadow, the long braid she'd put it in earlier in the day now a dirty and tangled mess, and her tunic in a similar state. A far cry from the tidy appearance she took a small amount of pride in for MCU and later the court. For her it had always been a way to prepare herself for whatever her day brought. The last two, if not three solstices had done their best to tear down the careful facade that Catherine had built over the years. While the others had been hard, this one had been extraordinarily difficult. The proximity to the veil had placed them in something of a magical safe zone or shadow, where there was little they could do to harm anything in the local environment. But, that didn't mean they couldn't harm themselves, or the magic harm them.
Groaning at the sound of her name, she muttered something unintelligible. "Are you still here?" Catherine finally asked, still half out of her mind. She was convinced that the apparition was back to torture and cause her even more pain.
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Post by demikara on Feb 7, 2021 19:15:22 GMT -6
"Naema? Kunt bikhayr bma yakfi lilaitminan ealayk." Yes? I was well enough to check on you. He pointed out. "La yumkinuk 'an tafahimani alana. hHdha muhbat lilghayati." Not that you can understand me right now. This is very frustrating. He tugged on his now white braid. "Catherine, 'ana Tyrus." Catherine, it's me Tyrus. Whoever she thought she was seeing, se definitely wasn't. If she was seeing things though, he wasn't sure she'd be okay to ride back. "Hhal yumkinuk alwuqufa? Daena nusiluk 'iilaa almanzil." Can you stand? Let's get you home. He reached out to her, not certain he wanted to touch.
At least he still understood her. That much was good. Even if their conversations were going to be very one sided. He wasn't thrilled with this. He didn't have anything to write with either and was terrible at transfiguring ink to the right consistency. It was trickier than he liked to admit. The mage sighed and tugged on his braid again, trying to sooth himself somewhat.
How was he going to make himself clear to Catherine. Hesitating, he transfigured some paper and grabbed a piece of wood. He could manage lead, probably. The mage tried to write in english at least, only to be able to clearly recognize it as complete jibberish. Writing was out. He tried drawing a picture and was able to do that, but how to get his point across. Uncertain, he drew a horse, and then a child's rendition of a house. He could point and hope he got his meaning across. Hesitating, he reached out mentally. At least she would know the shape of his mind, even if he couldn't make himself understood. She should recognize his mind, even if the shock of his hair made it less obvious who he was.
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Post by Circe on Feb 7, 2021 20:24:18 GMT -6
As Tyrus soon as reached out, Catherine grabbed him and very quickly had him pinned to the ground with one hand around his throat and a spell at the ready in other. All she saw was a threat and danger that she needed to defend herself from, whatever had happened at the solar noon was still affecting her in one way or another. Her face was stained with sweat and what looked like possibly tears at one point, but her eyes were unfocused and unseeing. The only things present were rage and a deep despair. "Who are you and how do you know me?!" She demanded. Catherine rarely spoke of what her proficiencies even were outside of the MCU, having spent the better part of her career with a sizeable target on her back. It was clear though that she wasn't someone to mess with once pushed far enough. Thankfully, for the most part, she wasn't usually prone to things like this. Sure there was the passing threat, mostly as a good natured joke between her and her officers, but this wasn't one of those times.
Only when Tyrus reached out mentally did she relax and release her grasp on him. It took her a moment, but slowly as the next hour passed away from noon Catherine regained her senses.
"Oh christ... I'm sorry Tyrus.." Was all she could think to say.
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Post by demikara on Feb 7, 2021 20:30:36 GMT -6
Yeah fair, he could have predicted this. He forcibly relaxed and made himself as little as a threat as possible. He sent he reassuring feelings until she let go and sat up. Right, so how to communicate that english wasn't going to happen? "Hasna." It's okay. He wasn't harmed and everything was fine. "La 'astatie altahaduth biallughat al'iinjaliziati. Lakununa mstedwn lileawdat 'iilaa almanzil alan." I can't speak English. But we're good to go home now. He tapped the horse then the house, trying to make his meaning clear. How clear he was being, he wasn't sure. Just in case, he drew and arrow pointing from the horse to the house. That should help some right?
Telegraphing his moves, he stood and reached for her hand, tugging gently. This was trickier than he'd like to admit. Communicating without words was not his forte.
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Post by Circe on Feb 7, 2021 20:40:53 GMT -6
Catherine observed Tyrus's motions for a moment as she tried to wrap her mind around what was going on. Everything was still a bit hazy both in thought and vision. Squinting at everything, she tried her best to understand him, but it all the words sounded like they'd been mumbled and smashed together. It wasn't the hard sounds of English, or the clear, crisp and elegant sounds of Fae. This was something else and it wasn't something she understood well, if at all.
"The horse.. house? What about the...?" She said slowly, turning the words over in her mind and examining each one. Sighing, she shook her head. "I don't understand you... which let's be honest, that's not anything new." Catherine added getting slowly to her feet. But he kept insisting and motioning, and eventually made himself understood. "Yes. Start back and I'll follow you." She finally agreed.
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Post by demikara on Feb 7, 2021 20:47:03 GMT -6
Well, he eventually got the point across, and that was the important part. He headed to the horses and got on his with care, waiting for her to pack up and mount hers as well before he headed back to the house. It wasn't like they could communicate. He was stuck without any common language between them. When they got back to the house, it was after dark and they had been traveling via mage light for some time. But they were safe again, and that was the important part, even if he couldn't make himself understood well. Hopefully this wouldn't last much longer. "Easha' muta'akhr?" He mimed eating, trying to get his point across. They hadn't stopped for dinner, and while they had packed for lunch, and he had some fruit as late snack on the ride back, he was still hungry.
Frankly, he was also starving for blood, but he'd make due with actual food. He was going to be absolutely ravenous once they were back in the human realm. He was still a very young vampire, and needed blood far more often than Catherine did.
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Post by Circe on Feb 7, 2021 21:00:13 GMT -6
All Catherine wanted to do was sleep and not wake up for some time, she was utterly exhausted after her own ordeal. But she would still be the gracious host and ensure that Tyrus was at least taken care of. "Food, right." She said rubbing her face and heading off to find the cook, and disappeared down a hallway in the house. It was rather the amusing sight to see the lady of what should be a grand country estate wandering down the hall looking little better than one of her servants.
It didn't take long for food to appear in the dining room, and rather quickly at that. One of the servants looked at Tyrus with disdain, but ushered him into dinner anyway. A hearty meal of roast venison, an assortment of pies and other items graced the long trestle table. Wine glasses sat next to each plate on the table, one filled with wine and the other with water. In other eras and places it might have been another type of wine, but here the water was clean, clear, and cold. Safe to drink without much thought.
Catherine sat at one end of the table, having not even bothered to change or comb her hair.
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Post by demikara on Feb 7, 2021 21:04:52 GMT -6
What did he do to get that look? Oh well, did it really matter why the staff looked at him funny, so long as they continued to treat him well? Not at all. The mage served himself happily so, enjoying the food very clearly. "Your cook is excellent as always." It took a moment before he grinned. "English! At last." That had taken entirely too long. He relaxed a bit more, now that he could make himself understood. His magic was still rolling some, but it was decent enough now that he could account for it, and the tightness under his skin was bearable now that he was being well fed. "This was mostly a success I think, at least on my end. Except for the whole magical trauma bit, but I'm going to have to get used to that, I suppose."
That was not going to be fun at all. "I'll clean up the sites tomorrow." He offered. "As much as they can be cleaned up, at least."
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