The Blazing

"I can't promise you any trip without it's share of danger," often Celaya felt she was to be regarded as a liability; if one recognized a witcher, often she was not welcomed so easily, no matter how much time lapsed on from when Iskaldrik had fallen.

"You think because I wield it, I am an expert on it," Celaya smiled at that, however, before offering a shrug. "I would imagine that's why. I have to figure that it was mined and collected to a degree that made it impossible to salvage anymore today." Not a lie, but a simple assumption of the truth.

"Tell him a queensguard is here to see him." Ingrid even went to the extent of flashing her own ring. As the teen ran off, Ingrid broke her imposing visage "I only use it to skip the waiting, I bleed for them, the least they can do is not make me wait." It wasn't like she abused her privilege greatly to get free wears but if compared to Akanis it was an indiscretion. "There have to be perks, Celaya. And while having you as squire is one of them, there has to be more."

Zeliha wasn't quite sure if the Warrior's Guild would ever be a good fit for her, but it did not change the fact that improving her fighting had become a focus for the faiman. The world was only becoming more dangerous, and her reasons to survive only grew. The blessed mace was strapped at her side, but it was not the reason that Zeliha had rushed to see Ingrid this month. The healer and smuggler wasn't moving her things to the South until she'd been able to check up on all those she cared for who were taken by the Kossith. Like so many others, Ingrid had been in Zeliha's fervent prayers. The changeling's candle had flickered long into the nights, casting smoke and murmured entreaties into the sky. It could finally preserve its wax tonight.

Relief surged through Zeliha when she saw Ingrid in the distance, making a smile light her face. She goes to her- slowly at first, then as quickly as she can before she stops herself from jumping. "Can I give you a hug, Hahren?" Breathed out: Teacher. They'd only been able to meet a few times, but with an affection for their shared elvhen connection and her own gratitude for Ingrid's time, Zeliha had given the unique changeling a moniker of respect.

"I've heard there's another isle which deals with exactly that, so don't make too many jokes of it or I'll make the travel plans," snarked easily, she knew that even something of a spiritual cleansing would be of little worth in comparison to the antimagic and alchemy within her veins; a true shame.

Lighter? By how much? it must be significant if spellbreakers used it for their armour and weapons. "Sounds like there are a lot of advantages to it, is that why it's rare? A lot of it has been used already?" It would make sense that it would be that, and due to the location it is found in.

The forge was open for those who walked past to see, "Follow me." there had to be some perks guarding the queen, the ring on her finger was one of them. But as she approached, an apprentice ran up to her, halting her entry "Hey, Lady, you can't just walk in..." his sentence was cut short as the teen looked upon her face. "You... you have to wait till he's done."

"Well, this one stood the test of time, lest it gets us on the way back," Ingrid had taken the joke in stride first, so Celaya had no problem volleying back. The witcher smirked at this reminder, no longer did the thought of the sea insist great fear upon her, despite the fact that her track record indeed was abysmal. "But don't let the other travelers hear you, they might call me cursed," quirking a teasing brow then, she tried not to ignore the weight of the ring on her finger, chillingly dormant since the liberation on the Kossith ship.

“Mithril? That’s rare right?” It made Ingrid’s queens guards armour seem mundane. But she was sure it was going to be damn expensive even the small chunk, especially due to the fact of Iskaldrik being invaded. But hey even if they could find Celaya the smallest chunk it of be something at the very least. They needed every scrap of hope they could get right now. “Wanna try something?” Ingrid heard the unmistakable sound of a hammer and anvil, if anyone would have info regarding that surely it would be those who could work it.

The search had yielded nothing of use, and Ingrid seemed to take it worse than Juneau was. She stared at the queensguard silently, noting the body language. The white knuckled fists, the impending headache, the toying with her hair. Frustration, frustration that Juneau worried would lead to anger. “We’ve been looking for hours. It won’t do us any good to run ourselves to the point of exhaustion,” Juneau argued. “Find some fresh water and something to eat. I’ll meet you back here in a few hours.” She turned her back to leave before Ingrid could argue if the surviving half the changeling wished to do so. 

Juneau was right; maybe they needed to give their eyes a break. It just hurt sitting, eating, while they could all die. But that was something new for the queensgaurd so maybe she should get used to it, learn to sit in it, learn how to rest while everything went to shit around them. "You're right, okay, I'll see you in a few hours."

where: falernia, queenset isles

when: current timeline

note: uwu

The Kossith had taken so much from each of them, such which went beyond materialistic items, but indelibly marked their souls. Still, though Celaya had grown much over the past year, the witcher still felt great difficulty in facing her emotions head on and finding a sensible way of growing with and through them. If Celaya could, she would evade and ignore her little heart out, but it proved to be something of great difficulty considering how often she found herself around Ingrid. A mentor as it was, but one Celaya had endured with together and she tried not to feel so stuck in commiseration with the other; it seemed to often their grief was entangled with one another's and Celaya tried not to veer such way again currently.

"I didn't mean to get you on another boat again so soon," a wry expression finds the witchers normally stoic countenance as she nudges Ingrid. They'd made the trip safely, the small ship that often communed travelers to the merchant hub docking at port. Soon, with the small amass of others around them, they'd be let off to venture to the markets here.

"From what I remember, you have a worse track record with ships than I do. Miss Ship Sinker." Maybe Celaya was bad luck when travelling via the sea. While they were in the crowd of people readying to disembark from the vessel, her hands went instinctively to rest on two swords that weren't there. It had been her resting position when walking the street of Eterna, it was an odd sensation to not have them.

"Oh really? what do they have that's so different?" Couldn't they just have it boated over? It wasn't that she was lazy or hated socialising, she just wasn't used to the looks yet, how everyone she passed looked at her scar as if it was a spectacle.

Juneau would sniff out what she could, and she merely hoped Ingrid wouldn’t turn her back on her. Since her mercy killing and inexplicable resurrection, she had control over her shifted form. But in Juneau’s first death, she had learned there were many people who would act first and ask questions next. Her weight shifted as she tried to squash her agitation. Juneau was not as anxious as many on the ship were, but she didn’t want to die either. “Then let’s get a move on,” Juneau said, taking a few steps away from Ingrid before shifting into a large, abyssal wolf. 

It felt like she had tracked through every inch of the ship. The only thing stopping Juneau from treading the same path looking for answers was Ingrid’s scent lingering in the spaces and corridors they had already tracked. She continued searching longer than what truly made sense, but finally, defeated, she shifted back into her human form. “It all smells the same,” she reported, a sense of defeat in her tone. There was no obvious stockpile of gunpowder or explosives, not that Juneau could sense at least.

If Ingrid still had her swords, her grip would have tightened around the hilt at the sight of the change. But she had no weapons to give her comfort. It was a time like this that she wished for Akanis' fists, even though she had no intention of hurting Juneau. But Ingrid tried to hide her nerves about the situation as to not disturb Juneau from her hunt. There was no amount of time that made her feel more comfortable around the vuldak, this was her first time actually seeing one up close and personal.

But when the other turned back her fists unconsciously unclenched but it wasn't the most important thing as Juneau revealed there was no distinction to be made by smell. Her hands now raked through her own hair in frustration as she tried to think. "What would they do... Come on, think." she spoke more to herself then Juneau.

Kingsguard. Torsten pulled himself upright, he had to find Afshin. Looking out at a skyline he was far too familiar with at this point. Ingrid was here, but they were alone. With anguish, Torsten reached for the prosthetic and tested it but found only that however lightweight, it still held weight, and when he reached for his antimagic, he found only pain.

"Are you alive, Queensguard?"

She couldn't speak for Torsten but after everything, being tortured to the point where one could barely recognise themself, rebelling and then trying to survive an explosion, she was exhausted. They were never allowed to be tried, they had to be pillars of endless energy. No matter how dark it got, they had to be watching. Maybe it was that instinct alone that had pulled her to her feet, extending a hand out to the other "Lets get off this fucking sand."