Stubborn as the metals your father tempered, your magic came and you felt no shame; fearlessness was your birthright, free as the ravens that circled Hrafntun, wild as the horses that you ran alongside. Unbreakable, even in the mines where you’d end up; this wouldn’t be your first proving ground, or even your last, but the next was in the hills wardened over by the Old Woman in the Mountain.
INTRODUCTION
Alessia Hart / 26 / (Destruction) Witch / Street Performer
Daughter of a Lysaran’s merchant daughter (witch) who stayed in Iskaldrik when she fell in love and became pregnant with a Iskaldrik Blacksmith’s child. Mother was taken to the mines shortly after Alessia’s birth; she has since died in the mines. Raised by her blacksmith father but, for a time, also an "aunt."
Half-sister on the paternal side to Alrik (Shane’s witch), who she grew up very close with. As they are around the same age, look alike and are visibly inseparable, so it’s as though they’re little less than twins.
Wild child since birth, reigned in by a neighbor and "aunt" that had been a friend of Alessia’s mother before she was taken. This neighbor, Runa, was a hidden faiman who cared greatly for the Hart family and tried to teach Alessia to be an Iskaldrik young woman and be more careful about her magic. (Very difficult task. Re: wild child)
Runa was eventually also taken to the mines. Sad wild child became more tame and started taking her respect and understanding of magic more seriously.Â
Rudimentary destruction magic skill - Aless taught herself as much as she possible could.
Hunted and foraged for her father and brother most of the time, as well as helped keep the home, when she wasn’t clandestinely gallivanting in the woods with her much more careful magical practice. Loved horse riding too.
Witchers came, murdered her father, burned down her house and took her and her brother to the mines.Â
Survived and escaped. Found The Old Woman in the Mountain and became a Hidden One with her brother. Also uses these newfound skills and connections to murder Witchers as much as she can. (Vengeful.)
Used to play with a kid that did street performing in Iskaldrik so her and her brother know a lot about acrobatics and performance. They have been using that knowledge and honing those skills to make their living (and a cover) on the streets while being Hidden Ones.
Refugee for troupe 1, looking towards Lysara with hope that she’ll gain more knowledge and power and also be at peace from people trying to kill her. (No rest for the wicked.)
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There was plenty that Freydis shared with those she cared for, but many other things she kept closer to her chest or only shared with her most vital of confidants. As Alessia constructed the cairns by balancing increasingly small rocks upon one another, Freydis’ face was as wistful as it was watching. Her attention was truly elsewhere–the toppled stacks of rune-carved rocks outside of an abandoned mill: her parents’ graves. She had been there not long ago to see what remained, Soren at her side. And at that time, she had collected a stone from each of the overturned stacks with the intention of bringing what she could of her parents with her to something that felt like more of a home than the ruined mill. But she had wanted to bring wildflowers with them, too, but on that first day after the slaughter of the old god Toth, still nothing would grow in the ruined soil.Â
“You talk about him as if you’re speaking of the dead,” Freydis said softly. Ithelia was not as such–too clever and cunning to be concerned about such a fate. The creature seemed like something eternal despite the odds in a world that had so recently proven itself as lethal. “I hope to see him too,” she said warmly, “but I have summoned another as the fey guardian of this circle and my companion.” From the edge of the woods, Alessia might see the Warden stir slightly, great swaths of cascading vines swaying slightly and sending a shower of petals through the dappled light. “I believe you’ve met. But I don’t know what you’ve come for,” she said, lifting her arms and extending her hands toward Alessia in eager greeting.Â
Alessia smiled softly, her eyes still on the cairn but her ears pricking at the sound of a creature stirring in the woods. "I've heard something of that," she replied, standing herself up to turn towards the rustling. It was difficult to see the bespoke creature with the light in her eyes and the enormous pines, but the vines on it's body and the petals that fell were unmistakable. She watched momentarily, squinting in the sunlight, before turning her head back to Freydis. She stepped closer, relaxing her gaze once the shadows fell over comfortably her eyes. They focused now on her fellow Veilmaiden - for the first time since her title was given.
"I'm not surprised he stuck around; you were very good to him." Surprisingly, the words weren't said with jest. "I've come just to see if this was all settling well for you. I'll check in a few more times before I go; I won't be sticking around." She gazed around at the forest, a pang of guilt sitting in her chest and likely belonged to the little girl inside her. That little girl had once wanted nothing more than to trails around Iskaran woods with twigs in her hair, and a horse beneath her. "At least not for a while." She mustered up a characteristic grin and shrugged. "I've got my own jobs to do."
Date: Iskaldrik is saved
Location: Iskaldrik
Characters: @lunadarkwoodx & @alessiathepath
Notes: the gorls
She looked at the dancing forms of luminescent blue and red, orange and yellow embers appeared from the flames, and Alessia was almost mesmerized. The sparks tantalized in the night sky, and coiled smoke over the drifting ships in the water. She'd let them burn. She knew why it was. The mourners had gathered to bid good-bye to their countrymen, those whose bodies had been recovered and those who never would be found again. Iskaldrik would be mourning every day for years, for generations.
But Alessia had not come to share in the collective grief; she did not mourn before flames that were so alike to the ones that consumed her father's body without his family's consent. She had come to find a friend, Luna's brief presence offering more warmth than the fires ever could. "Ready to go home to the forests, Legionnaire, or do you have more monsters to fight?"
It had been a long time since Luna had witnessed Iskarian traditions, for long she had felt like a stranger in a strange land in the glamorous and affluent city of Eterna and yet the homeland that she knew had taken different shape in her mind’s eye, gone was the safe sanctuary that she had known within the Ironwood forest and introduced was a severe frozen tundra that will kill or imprison her for the born arcane that ran through her veins and made her a beast. Smoke was the last thing she smelt as she ran from her homeland and it was fitting that the smell of burning welcomed her home, there was nothing quite like the smell of burning flesh and hair.
She was not surprised to see Alessia here, she refused to lose her in the return and in changing tides, she needed her friend to navigate the new world with and ensure that the old world order would never return. A sideways smile like a crescent moon tugs at her lips. “I can never leave the Legion, I can leave the keep though.” punctuated by a wink. “I’ve missed the Ironwood forest more than I could bare, let’s go home.”
Alessia smiled, though it was soft and a little sad. It would be far more difficult to see Luna around - but it had already been difficult to begin with. Legionnaires had busy lives, and her friend was even more than a warrior. There were traditions here in Iskaldrik, traditions that only Luna knew how to bring back to life. Alessia would be on a far more dishonorable mission, one that took her back to Lysara.
She came forward an offered an arm for the other to take. They'd whisk away from this place of sadness and mourning. "I'm hanging about a month or two, depending how long it takes for my brother to get settled down. I think that'll be enough time to finally see the fabled Ironwood Forests for myself."
Nuvi’s mouth opens and closes several times as she looks at the witch sitting on her desk and tries to find her words. There had been a brief moment of fear as she realized there was someone in her home she hadn’t welcomed in, but that had quickly transformed when she had recognized Alessia. Just like that, the fear is replaced with amusement and she nods at the other’s question.
“Very much so yes,” she says, wondering if she hadn’t made that part of her personality noticeable enough or if that was just meant to be a joke of a sort. Regardless, she welcomes the other’s presence, as she has been meaning to catch up since their trip to Iskaldrik. “I am assuming the boxes have something to do with that question?”
"Bingo," Alessia chimed happily, grinning wide and snapping a finger into the air. "Very smart, very observant, as expected from my favorite elve." She didn't mean to tease; being sarcastic was a side effect of the witch's very existence, much to the misfortune of those she called friends and those she did not. Shenuvun, despite all the time and distance, remained considered the former. One did not simply endure living through Hel together, just to turn back into strangers.
"You know I really hate Iskaran royalty, yes? Well, actually, I don't know if I ever told you, but it should be obvious. I mean," she scoffed out a laugh, "you probably do to if you have any sense. The both of us got locked up down there in the mines." Alessia cleared her throat. "Anyway, I found a few things from Iskaran history that might interest you. Books, and maps and tomes and a bunch of dusty artifacts that they just had out there... laying around..." It would be up to Nuvi to assume if Alessia had stolen from the royal palace (dusty and relatively unguarded at the time), from now dead nobility, or maybe both. Or maybe neither, and she was completely innocent.
"You can send them back, if you want. Or sell 'em. I don't care what you do with them. Just... think of it as late payment from Iskaldrik, orrrr compensation."
while the landscape was marred, it would heal. still, the scars that the blight had made upon the land wouldn't even begin to fade for an age. there was a time when the darkest part of alrik's heart would revel in the suffering of his countrymen, for them to see how horrifying the shadow can be firsthand. but that rage had passed sometime between then and now - perhaps it was his blessings. valr screeched overhead, and alrik's sight returned to himself as he blinked and milky-white irises darkened to obsidian once more.Â
he landed, with a thump, feeling his sister's arms around him a moment later. a chill from above still holding to him while another wrapped itself around alessia still. alrik shivered, then embraced her warmly.
"winter in lysara spoiled us." alrik complained. it was unlike him to be so contemptuous of the cold, but he'd grown accustomed to the sort of luxuries that he and alessia were denied for most of their lives. even as kids they'd never gone hungry, but life was as hard and as brutal as every other iskaran who called the south their home. it took a stubborn breed. lysara had comfortable work, more gold than he'd ever spend, warm fires, a good-quality and soft bed. alrik's stomach was softer now than when they'd started this, but victory looked good on him in the wake of the resignation he'd taken to before.
“I like my forge.” quick, sharp, but lighthearted. “i'll take an apprentice, or a few. someone to mind it and the shop while we're off.” because there would never be one without the other; they had names to hunt down. the present was secured, the harts would attend to the future as well. “and there are much worse things you could tell to your future nieces and nephews about me.”
"Lysara in general spoiled us," she agreed in a mutter, thinking the same of the food and weather. The easy opportunity for gold, the enormous fluffy beds to sink into... Those were not quite the reasons that Alessia would enjoy being back, but it certainly didn't hurt. Stupid the cat would definitely not be returning to Iskaldrik now, not in his cozy, spoiled lifetime.
"Oh, yes," Alessia agreed without some of her usual bite or humour. "Though, unfortunately, we have a rather entangled reputation." Her teasing was weak-willed that night, softened by tiredness and affection. Affection for her brother, surely, but just as much for the pale landscape now mirrored in her eyes. Distance had made the heart grow fonder, and also the acceptance she would not grow roots into this though soil any time soon. Their people, with Alrik, would begin physically rebuilding and she could not contribute much there. Her last act of solemn patriotism was scowling at the new King - warning him to be better than his bloodline through the wordless, unmagical psychic energy of manifestation. And he hadn't even seen her do it, so...
Alessia had unspoken pride and faith in Alrik's forge; she smiled just thinking of feeling the warmth of the flames and the vibrations of banging metal again. "An apprenticeship won't be hard to find, I'm sure. Try to make sure they're stupid enough they don't question you, and ugly enough you don't want to fuck them. I grow weary of all you people and your spring behavior. You, Freydis, Lother and Prospero..." There was an overly dramatic sigh, and she rested her head against her brother's arm.
Then, in the quiet, sat a brief moment of pause; it was that expectant silence where Alessia built her courage carefully like a cairn. She didn't look at Alrik, but she pulled her head away from his shoulder. "Speaking of the latter... I'm not here long enough we can keep ignoring the elephant in the room, much as I'd like to." Darkfriends, everywhere, they were now deadmen walking. The Lysaran Queen was one thing, but then the fact Prospero had been entangled in this from the beginning - much to their ignorance.
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Date: Iskaldrik is saved
Location: Iskaldrik, somewhere somewhat close to the Stones
Characters: @freydis-freydat & @alessiathepath
Notes: : )
Alessia had loved the practice of creating cairnes. The rocks that she collected and piled over one another were more so as an act of affection for the surrounding area than an act of faith to the Gods. These pieces of the land, arranged by her own hands, would be left as her journey's drag path. A testament of Alessia's travels, a quiet declaration that own two feet had walked this very place, and that she found love and peace here.
This time, perhaps, a friend or two would see this meaningful arrangement and know whose hands made it. Alessia picked up the last stone, bringing it to her lips as she whispered a spell. A name in runes appeared: Ithelia. As her friend approached, Alessia placed the top stone upon her finished cairn. "All things considered, he brought us together more than any archfey ever did," Alessia said, as the footsteps stopped beside her. Their familiar catsith was not gone from this world, but neither were either of them certain that they'd see him again. "I hope he comes to visit you at least. A Keeper should have the wild looking out for her, right? I don't actually know."
Date: Iskaldrik is saved
Location: Iskaldrik
Characters: @lunadarkwoodx & @alessiathepath
Notes: the gorls
She looked at the dancing forms of luminescent blue and red, orange and yellow embers appeared from the flames, and Alessia was almost mesmerized. The sparks tantalized in the night sky, and coiled smoke over the drifting ships in the water. She'd let them burn. She knew why it was. The mourners had gathered to bid good-bye to their countrymen, those whose bodies had been recovered and those who never would be found again. Iskaldrik would be mourning every day for years, for generations.
But Alessia had not come to share in the collective grief; she did not mourn before flames that were so alike to the ones that consumed her father's body without his family's consent. She had come to find a friend, Luna's brief presence offering more warmth than the fires ever could. "Ready to go home to the forests, Legionnaire, or do you have more monsters to fight?"
Date: Iskaldrik is saved
Location: Iskaldrik, wherever Rhys is currently
Characters: @rhysxvuldak & @alessiathepath
Notes: I guess she owes him a life debt now
"You're the pretty skald that caught the eye of a world-famous shieldmaiden Jarl?" It was said with light distaste. Much to Alessia's chagrin, Rhys was indeed some level of conventionally attractive, enough that it could be somewhat understood why he would send Freydis' hormones all a-tizzy. His bravery and music was good in battle too. It could not be said that her dear friend had absolutely no taste, but Alessia still held a hint of contempt she could not help herself of. Was anyone really worthy of Freydis?
But there was more to consider too. Alessia could not, and would not, forget when there was an extreme service done to her or to her family. If she focused too hard on the memory of Alrik nearly lifeless on the floor of a battleground, she could feel the shudders coming on like cold fingers trailing down her back. "Actually that's not why I'm here." Of course. It very like her to start a conversation with a subtle jab, when that was the opposite of what she had meant in coming to see someone. "Or it's just a part of it. I give credit where credit is due... You're not a warrior. You didn't have to fight for this country, but you did. And you fought well."
Date: Iskaldrik is saved
Location: Iskaldrik OR Eterna, depending where Nuvi is rn
Characters: @temperednuvi & @alessiathepath
Notes: This seemed very right that Alessia's love language is stealing stuff for friends to get back at a dead government
Right upon the a mahogany desk that did not belong to her, a Warrior had perched her ass and surrounded herself by unlabelled boxes. The room was full of them. "Surprise," she greeted, smiling as the lights turned on. If the witch noted any hint of shock or fear from the unsuspecting elve, she did not show it. Her smile only bloomed wider, morphing into a wide grin. It had been quite a few months since she had checked in on the woman that she'd once spent months with, trapped underground amongst the devils and demons, but Alessia wasn't much for smalltalk. "You like history and stuff, right?"
Date: Iskaldrik is saved
Location: Iskaldrik, but you decide where
Characters: @alrikhart & @alessiathepath
Notes: I was thinking of these two when I finished the DLC of Asscreed Odyssey and they were talking about The Hidden Ones :'''''''.
It was a brisk night as autumn was slowly giving its way to winter, shepherding in the death of an old kingdom with a white coffin blanket. They would bury the dead under snow and ice. The season's beginnings clouded the breath in front of Alessia as she breezed onto the balcony, her footsteps silent as the early snowfall collecting on her hood. It was enough to hear the song of a falcon, to watch it's wingspan disappear from her peripherals, to know that its master was nearby too. This building did not belong to either one of these trespassers.
Just behind Alessia was the empty skeleton of someone else's lost luxuries. The roof above her that her brother perched himself upon was crumbling with disuse. One of these days the halls of this abandoned mansion would be filled with mead and music again, but it wouldn't be their's. Alessia smiled and glanced over at Alrik as he landed beside her. Or maybe it would be? Maybe Alrik would fancy himself into a Jarl just to prove a point. Alessia was half inclined to do that herself; it would take some time for her to accept the new King was everything they hoped he (and his other half) would be. But she, like her differentiated bloodline, would be found moving from one border to the next - no crown but that of her braided hair.
She sighed and threw an arm across Alrik's shoulder, pulling her brother close. She was counting the days until her journey back to Eterna with bittersweetness. Duty called, but most of her heart would remain behind. "I can't wait to tell your future kids that their dad beat up a god dragon, just to fire up the forge again," she teased.
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The name of the game is avoidance. For all that she is considerably stronger than the average rogue, ValdĂs is aware that strength is not her greatest skill. Weaving around crowds, and using just enough strength and magic to push the tide to her advantage is where she excels. There is nothing honorable about her fighting style, nothing that would be considered noble, but it keeps her alive and that is all she needs. Keeping pace with Alessia is easier than it should be, and she knows the fight would have gone much differently if they had sparred before the debacle with the Kossith. As it is, however, she has the advantage and she presses for it, willing to chip away at the other’s defenses until victory is in her grasp.Â
One foot slides back as Alessia pushes her away, and ValdĂs takes the time to weave away until she is closer to her opponent's left side, a smirk firm in place as she does.Â
“Nothing is ever that easy, is it?” She sighs dramatically, eyes firm in Alessia even as she is noting the flickering movements of her eyes. From what she is seen, the other is too experienced to make such an amateur mistake so she doesn’t fall prey to the provocations, taking the time to fall into a defensive position instead, daggers up as she waits for the other to continue their dance.Â
Their blades clash, and ValdĂs lets out a breathless laugh before swiping away once more, her feet lashing out to try and force Alessia to stumble as she retreats.
“I have a handful, yes, and I am ensuring they are prepared for what is to come,” she says, giving just enough detail to satisfy. While she is away at the Tower, she had made it clear she expects her Armada to keep up with their training. If they are to see further Dreadnoughts in their waters, she will make sure Ran’s Armada comes out victoriously each encounter.Â
"Ensuring they are prepared?" Alessia repeated, her voice higher with amusement and disbelief. "You're either the eldest of a large family, or some sort of boss lady." The latter should have been no surprise there. Alessia thought she'd felt some weird sense of kinship and familiarity to the woman, but they must have their clear differences. The Tower was filled to the brim with the highborn, rich and generationally powerful. "No one else speaks like that. Either way, don't think you can prepare anyone for this."
She could appreciate that her fellow witch was also holding back on her magic, so the two of them could focus on their physicality instead of spells. ValdĂs was also clearly a skilled, knowing opponent - and cunning. It fared better for Alessia's health to fight like this, and made it quite clear where she was still weak from the ship. Her legs did not feel as quick and graceful as before, though her skinnier arms still swung powerfully and with precision. ValdĂs aggression egged her on and the younger witch briefly left the comfort of defense to go on the offense. "Just saying that-" Clang. "there's no preparing people-" Clang. "for destruction." They pressed closely upon each other, the clashing of metal upon metal resounding like the notes of a bell, and Alessia grit her teeth which were all bared like a silent growl.
Finally, her breath was tight in her chest, and she was forced to try and direct it through her mouth in even, silent breathes while her chest rose and fell with force. The smart thing to do would have been to jump back and catch her breath. But as this was not life and death, and Alessia was far more reckless than she was smart, the witch doubled down on her strikes. "Did they train you this well?" She asked, both their blades up against each other; she could feel the other's hot breath on her face, and surely ValdĂs felt her's too.
Raven needed to be somewhere that she couldn't be perceived as easily, she was good at going undetected and bleeding into the background. She was a rogue but she missed her cloak of invisibility and even if the crowd was full of strangers, the land knew her and she had lived through much upon it's ground. She had stepped into the veil and it had pulled out her soul and all the dark parts that she had tried to hide, Avalon was dying, she had pissed off a dragon and her hands felt more empty than ever. The wilds might serve as a distraction along with the hot stew that they served in Haven. The invisible barrier that seperated Iskaldrik from Eterna rippled for a quick moment but it was enough for the halfblood elvhen to track. "Did you see that?" Another was next to her that she vaguely recognized from their treacherous journey here.
If there was any chance of finding any leftover Kossith artifacts or armor that might help her in fighting off darkspawn to the South, it was in Haven. Alessia had been curious enough at the prospect to take a portal to the Wildlands from home in the city and inquire about it. No success, but her recent dream with Freydis inspired Alessia to seek out the companionable woods near Iskaldrik for a stroll before she returned home. It would be her last taste of peace before heading into the cradle of war. She walked, her head uncharacteristically full of thoughts of the past and daydreams in the safety and quiet between the trees. Even distracted, it was exceptionally rare that Alessia was ever caught off guard...
But the unexpected sight at the flickering magical border roused her, and kept her from realizing the body that had been near her the entire time - and was now beside her. Alessia jumped slightly, hand instinctively going for her waist daggers before she stopped. "You... you saw that too?" So, it wasn't a manifestation of Alessia's own nostalgia and trauma? Good and bad news. "Fuck," she whispered. She gazed back at where they'd both seen the flicker, not yet gaining any recognition for the woman beside her - she was too focused on the border. "... That's the border to Iskaldrik. The Witchers- they closed it."
Freydis would not pretend to find Alessia unlovely. Such open displays of affection and admiration from the former Jarl were likely unsurprising for Alessia—and anyone else who had spent more than five minutes getting to know the woman for that matter. She snorted out an uncouth laugh at Alessia playing into the compliment. Soren would have been deeply wounded, she thought, to witness Freydis praising someone else for their looks and denying him a compliment. He would live.Â
Her hazel eyes rolled at Alessia’s insistence on being a nuisance about the fact Freydis had attached herself to someone. Freydis forged a bond with nearly every sentient being that crossed her path and she had long wished for a deeper sort of companionship, though she believed with every fiber of her beings that soulmates came in every form of relationship. She hoped they came by the dozen as well. Certainly she and Alessia held a bond that defied the boundaries of their corporeal shape by way of duty, shared experience, and affection.Â
“The healer sounds quite wise, your vegetables are quite important,” Freydis mothered.Â
Alessia’s comment on earning a bit of vacation was met with a shrug. “I would argue that I’ll sleep when I’m dead, but given our unfortunate attachment to a certain Arch Fey, I believe that joke would be in rather poor taste,” Freydis ribbed, though there was truth to the statement. She immediately sobered when Alessia spoke of her likely assignment in the South. “It eats at me that I haven’t already moved that way,” Freydis admitted quietly. “I feel like I’m betraying myself… my purpose and duty.” But it was too soon, she knew she had not regained her strength yet. She looked at Alessia, serious and determined as ever. “What do you think you’ll find in the south? What have they warned you of?”Â
Alessia rolled her eyes dramatically at the motherly comment, but her smile was wide. The half-hearted joke on sleep and death, in contrast, was met with a wrinkled brow and crinkled nose. The dream lost some of it's carefree visage, erasing the charming town and carefree people. Alessia paid it no heed, even as the barrel she'd taken to sitting on again became a boulder. Much like the vision of peace and escape that she had described to Freydis during their time on the ship, the scenery shifted to forest and a nearby burbling stream. This was an escape for Alessia, a place to find some tranquility when awareness of the chaos outside could become overwhelming.
"Lots of darkspawn," she replied passively, nonchalantly. "Nothing we both haven't seen a lot of before, and nothing I haven't fought before." Alessia thought of her time in the Mountain before she thought of their mutual underground Hel, but a deadly secret was a deadly secret. "Plus, I'll be surrounded by comrades with the same orders. I chose The Tower, it's different from you. And did I ever mention I'm half Lysaran?" She frowned thoughtfully, realizing she had probably not, but moved on without much care of it. "So, even if your purpose and duty right now was fighting darkspawn for The Tower or country, you can't pour out of an empty glass, as the druids say. Or the elves say. Or... I don't know, hippie humans. Someone said that. Point is, you've got an empty glass so fill it up before you get excessively heroic again. I technically have no choice, even if I didn't want to go." She did. Alessia held no strong loyalty to The Tower, but enough gratitude and enough will to fight that she had no trouble obeying this time.
There was a loud and ominous meow, echoing from around the forest... or was it the sky? A cat called for Alessia to wake up, likely because he was hungry again.
“You can’t claim that I’ve ever purported to be anything but a simple woman of average mind,” Freydis stated in response to Alessia lodging the accusation that she was, essentially, basic. But when the Witch mentioned skalds she immediately became privately flattered as a sense of affection flooded her chest and outwardly bashful. “He is rather pretty. Prettier than I am, at least. And maybe-” She pretended to study Alessia’s features for a moment, her lips pursed and quirked to one side before, after a few dramatic moments, she shook her head. “No. Certainly not prettier than you.” Soren certainly had secrets and barriers between himself and the world. Freydis didn’t doubt he still kept some walls constructed between himself and her. And as an active participant in the game, there was always some hidden happening she didn’t quite understand afoot.Â
Freydis knew that Alessia was right, but she felt the least Fate owed them was a small break, even only if it was within this dreaming territory they occupied. “Bold of you to assume he’s sweet,” Freydis grunted. But she cast Alessia a skeptical gaze a few moments later. “The great witch of her age who survived kidnapping and infection at the hands of Darkspawn, traversed the Veil, survived a Dream’s Genasi’s utterance of death, proved the entire Tower wrong evading death in a dozen other ways in between is telling me she was taken out by a fever? I don’t believe it.”Â
“Well, you ought to do more than stop in. You ought to get to work–someone wise recently told me things can always get worse. You’ll want to be prepared.”Â
The unexpected compliment, tease or no, was enough to make Alessia grin wide. She fluttered her lashes and brought her chin down to her shoulder, demurring playfully. "... But of course not," she replied afterwards with certainty, her eyes flashing back with a sudden and gleeful juxtaposition of confidence. The grin remained as Freydis continued.
Bold of you to assume he's sweet. If this had been any other woman, Alessia would have crinkled her nose in distaste. But, as it was Jarl Icefang who had never willingly suffered a disrespectful male in her life, her grin only widened at the innuendo her friend most certainly did not make. Though the playful jab at her constitution made Alessia roll her eyes, good-natured. "I told the healer the same thing and he just told me I'm not a God and I still need to eat my veggies. Dull."
"I think the two of us earned some vacation time." She sighed. There was the Freydis she knew. "Besides, there are already plans to send me down South with some other Warriors. Darkspawn war and all. I didn't train to be a Scholar or Apprentice, I'm not meant to be actually be inside the Tower, y'know."
“Ough,” ValdĂs groans, shifting her weight subtly as she begins to realize that they are at an impasse, neither willing to seize the advantage with an opening move. Neither is too knowledgeable of the other’s physical abilities, so that makes sense. Still, she is known for her daring, so she keeps an eye for the perfect moment to strike. “That makes the whole thing more tedious. Will the guidance of one of the Students of Proserpina be enough, you think?”
As the question leaves her lip, she feints to the left with one arm moving to strike with one of her daggers, before twirling around and aiming for the right at the last moment.Â
“It had been less of a headache, yes,” she agrees as she pushes her weight forward, hoping to catch her by surprise.Â
Her mind was a quarter on the conversation, three quarters on the fight. And after a week of recovering from illness following imprisonment, Alessia would have liked to be at her best for even the smallest of spars, but it was not realistic. She gave herself some grace as Valdis' right sided attack was barely avoided. Her feet danced in an uncertain path, her mind and body working slower than usual. But stubborn eyes were narrowed and they burned with determination as she recovered enough confidence to lunge forward. Using Valdis' own momentum, Alessia attempted to pull and then push the woman away. I would buy her a measure of a second longer to gather her strategy.
"No extra evil thoughts are nice," she says, jolting back to put space between them. "I definitely don't think it's over though." Alessia played the coy look, the small flick of her lips turned upward to distract from her probing glances and strategy. "What's that thing they say about the calm before the storm?" Now, within the Tower, Alessia was far more privy to the events happening outside the narrow orbit of her personal life. From the druids to the elvhen to Astoria... shit sucked. All evidence pointed to continual and growing suck.
Alessia lunged, parrying with Valdis in a purposeful manner, testing opponent's reaction timing and limb preferences as their blades met. The dance made for hot blood and aching muscles by the time one of them jumped back and gambled for a breather. "We're in this together now... Tower witches, and all. What about your life and people outside of here?" Surely the woman made a living for herself before this, and had a circle of people she was leaving behind. Alessia had had none - Iskaldrik had been taken from her.
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A chill began to creep in through the emptiness of her. She wrapped her arms to protect herself from it, but it did not help. The cold tendrils of her own despair dug in painfully to the depths of her, coiling in her gut and choking her every breath. It was the anger she did not allow herself to continue feeling, manifested instead into this ache of sorrow. And if even the kindest, purest soul to come from the cruel snow of Iskaldrik could be made to feel such guilt and sadness, then was there any hope for Alessia's?
"You are responsible for nothing that happened on this ship," she murmured, pushing away her hypocrisy. She truly believed no blame should be placed on Luna's shoulder's. But when there was already so much blame on Alessia's, what was just a little more? Therein lay the differences in the characters of the two women; Alessia was not a kind, pure soul.
There was a long moment of silence, Luna's words squeezing her heart and melting some of the chill she still felt. They would be dying soon anyway - the two of them. At this point, Alessia held little to no hope that they would be escaping this ship in one piece after the explosion came. Her pride was swallowed down. She embraced Luna briefly, holding her with the strength of all her unspoken good-byes, hoping it would be enough to convey her appreciation and her affection. She did not have the strength to give more. If she spoke, she feared the truth of her words and impending dread. Alessia did not look at Luna again, and turned to walk away.
Alessia was not known to be a hugger, she preferred to keep most at arms length and a lot changed when they were stolen by the Darkspawn, held as prisoners in the caves and made to be the midwives for the Broodmother. It was a horrific experience that was the catalyst for Luna's first werewolf shift, through such horrors they were made stronger and tethered together by shared trauma. The past couldn't be changed but the past had brought her Alessia and allowed entry and space in such a sacred heart.
The hug is brief but steadfast, for a moment, two hearts that adored each other dearly carved a moment out in a sinking ship. Luna prayed to all who would listen that her and Alessia would have a chance to dish about the further recieved trauma aboard the Dreadnaught but first they had to live, they had to fight and they had to swim for their lives.
The Kossith would not go down easy but Luna wasn't looking for an easy fight after all she had endured, she wanted to cause great pain to them. It caused her sorrow splitting with Alessia, she would have preferred to fight by her side, secure in the knowledge that Alessia was alive and breathing but she had to cling to the hope she would see her again as her dark hair disappeared down the hall.
"A seat? Well, that's easy peasy, orange squeezy." That was the saying, right? After contemplating it silently for a moment, she shook her head - silly sayings didn't matter right now. All that mattered was making sure Alessia had everything she needed to get better soon.
Sylvie scanned the surrounding woods for anything that might double as a chair, bright blue eyes eventually landing on a stump a few feet away. It wouldn't make the most comfortable seat, but perhaps Sylvie could find Alessia a new one once she was less dizzy. The blonde could maybe carry her, if she tried hard enough - perhaps harnessed some of her infernal strength - but she'd sworn off using her powers after the Kossith had tainted them even further.
"This way! Nice and easy, darling." Slow and steady, Sylvie guided the Witch to the nearest stump, one girl clinging to the other as they crunched through the snow. Gently, she helped Alessia sit down, making sure she was stable before finally removing her touch. Sylvie was somewhat of a healer herself, but again, was too scared to even attempt to channel the One God after the atrocities she'd committed in the Kossith's name, lest her pleads go unanswered.
However, a good school teacher always had a backup plan for any ailments - bumps, bruises, scrapes, fevers. The idea set her in motion quickly, as she took off her scarf and began piling snow into the soft fabric. Once she had enough, she returned to Alessia's side, and carefully the packed scarf against her forehead. "Ice packs can fix almost anything, as long as you think it's working." Usually the placebo was more effective on toddler brains than well developed ones.
Alessia had piled on muscle since starting at the Tower, but the bulk of it and much of her healthy weight had been shed upon the ship. Though she tried her best to support her own body nonetheless, a little more than half of the effort was reliant on the young cambion. Alessia focused on the sound of her voice more so than her words, finding an odd comfort in the cadence just as she found comfort in her physical support. In the mines, Sylvie's voice had also sounded like the only kind thing around for miles - apart from Alrik.
Alessia was silent for a while. It was neither her choice nor her preference, but the brief earthly spin of her vision had made the witch's gut roil like a bad potion. She swallowed down nausea and tried to blink away tiredness as she was led away. Some of Sylvie's words had registered, though not all of them. Alessia simply relented to the other's needed care as as she was supported toward a pile of barrels. She sat down on one, comfortable enough, and was tempted to lean back on another. But this was embarrassing already as it was.
"Lemon," she muttered, taking the make-shift ice pack. Alessia placed it on her forehead and shut her eyes briefly. Anyone might have thought the fever was getting to her head when she didn't bother elaborating her context. If Sylvie questioned it, it went ignored until Alessia finally felt the coolness of the icepack seep further into her skin and give her some real comfort. "It's lemon squeezy," she finally elaborated, voice rasping.