Are we star people or....

I guess it's my turn to do the ritual...

Transcription:

she did██ mean it that way

I'm hurting ███

she does██ bring fire

fire fire fire Shh!

The dark seems as deep as it is wide.

The light does not belong here.

It cuts through the dark in a thin, wavering line — too sharp, too Bea. The small blue sprite flutters ahead of her, its glow scattering across twisted roots and petrified veins of heartwood, painting them in that same sharp relief.

The place where Bea stands is…wrong. Too close. Too deep—in a flare they had imagined smothering the flame, deadening her barbs before they could hook into anything still soft. Seized, dragged, buried, silent—

Verdant’s head turns, still bent forward, just slightly. Their focus drags, stutters, catches on the sprite as it flutters in their narrowed view. It slips in and out of near clarity, settling almost out of reach.

“You’re…bright. But cold.” The words catch—brittle, crackling as something dragged through smoke.

They twist their head a bit more. Squint.

Their hand twitches. Fingers splaying in the roots woven through the dirt below them, then closing tight.

The chill fairy light pricks against the fermenting heat. A fluttering balm that isn’t close enough to quite settle, or soothe.

A faint motion of their hand through the heavy dark—hesitant, incomplete—brushing near the thin light without ever quite touching.

“Here I am…” It’s thin. Rasping, pulled over something sore.

Verdant recoils. A sharp, involuntary jerk against the inky dark—

and it answers.

It presses in around them both, close and immediate. Roots wind through and around, threading the space between them, knitting the gloam tight.

The sprite flinches and moves out of their reach. For a heartbeat, it looks like it might spread.

“Don’t—”

Like it might catch.

The word breaks out of them, splintered. Verdant’s shoulders hitch, and then they cough. A rough, tearing sound, dragged up from too deep. It catches halfway, scrapes, leaves them folded in on themselves for a moment before it passes.

Slowly—carefully—they twist, the motion uneven, dragging through root and dark as they turn just enough to look back over their shoulder at Bea.

She carries that same light—kin to the sprite’s glow, but dimmer. Softer. It limns her in the dark, thin and wavering.

Verdant blinks.

And it dips—further, fainter—like their vision can’t hold it steady, like something in them keeps trying to snuff it out.

Fear hooks its claw—

too far I pulled you too far this isn’t for you you don’t understand you never—why would you come down here why would you—there’s nowhere else for me to go I don’t fit up there anymore it won’t hold me it won’t take me back I don’t fit—you shouldn’t be here you shouldn’t see this you shouldn’t be this close to it—

[C.W: Very Mild Body horror ]

The gravity of the situation sinks in quite quickly when she's pushed forward by the grove itself, there doesn't seem to be a way back so, no more choice other than keep moving. Somewhere, there's still hope for this all to be nothing but an elaborate ruse.

[ T A L K ? ]

The glimmerblooms continue fret around her legs, insistent on whatever this “Tall Glimmerbloom” is. Their agitation rises in the frequency of their hops, until something new rises from the chatter: “Talk! Make grove less scary?”

[ T A L K ]

One by one, their lights sink, dimming as they’re pulled downward by an unseen tide. The soil drinks; light bleeds down through petals, leaves and stems, siphoned in a careful rhythm.

The last glow gutters, then fades entirely into the flower bed at Bea’s feet.

Pink cloud sage wilts in fast motion, petals curling inward as the ground loosens beneath them. What looked like earth becomes movement—

The clearing inhales.

Bea’s boot sinks ankle-deep with a slick, worming sound. Then the other. The soil does not crumble away; it closes, packing tight around the arch of her foot, her ankle—whatever will yield. Beneath her soles, roots slide and coil, not biting, just learning the shape of her weight.

The glimmerblooms chitter softly among themselves.

They turn back to Bea. Nearly silent.

Then a small gaggle of glimmerblooms breaks ranks.

They swarm her shins, lights flaring with sudden urgency, chirring over one another as they shove glowing flowers at her—one bumps her wrist, another jams itself insistently against her palm, a third all but headbutts a bloom into the hollow of her elbow.

It clicks, or at least it seems like it does.

But it's a start, isn't it? Better than being lost and wandering through a forest that seems hungry.

“Talk to tall glimmerbloom! Below! Above!”

The ground ripples once — a pulse passing downward. The roots cinch, drawing her inches more into the cool dark.

Below, something answers, a vibration that roils the soil around her as she scrambles to hold herself upright.

[YOU WANT ME TO BE AFRAID]

The roots jerk tight, wrenching her further down as the ground seethes

[TO BE SMALL]

If Verdant normally sounds like soft air through a split in timber, then the voice in her ears hisses like flame across bark, crackling and tearing as it snaps with raw ferocity.

[KINDLING TO BURN]

The illusion of a flat forest floor fractures. For a moment Bea can see it properly—

The grove is layered.

Above her, the silhouette of Verdant she could almost see through the trees dissolves, crawling into the mesh of branches and shadows. Glimmerblooms flit in and out of her vision as they pepper her with useless flowers.

The ground finally swallows her in three gulps as the voice rasps:

(the following may trigger sensitivities related to the following: claustrophobia, burying alive)

Its an odd feeling, cold soil biting at every inch of your body, but dull enough for it to be a second thought in front of what now seems a much, much bigger issue...

Beahreth can't help but get lost in her own thoughts while Eudora chats on.

The glow on her eyes again, this time Icy Blue and swift when she mentions... a fox? "Not that I... remember..." Beahreth mutters a half assed answer that Eudora doesn't really seem to hear. That shine though, that's interesting, subtle as it was. Perhaps triggered by remembrance? It was surprisingly hard to point out its source.

Her mind wanders, half hearing Eudora's next words, half pondering.

"It's interesting, do you think there's only a certain few Merlins able to cross the dimensional boundary? If so, what makes them so special?

It's such a headache to think of the posibilities, the more Eudora seems to monologue to herself, the more Beahreth thinks of how and why so many find their way here, conscious of it or not. There doesn't really seem to be a pattern between who can or cannot cross over from one timeline to another, other than perhaps luck.

Maybe the whole forest thing was in fact real, that would at least explain why she seems to be trapped in the middle.

Not that she'd admit believing it now.

"Well, I assure you, death eludes me completely, and I have my reasons"

Bea's head subtly snaps back to reality. She was paying attention, yep, uh-huh, absolutely.

"Hmm...Beahreth, if you don't mind me calling you that, do you happen to be free this evening?"

Refocusing on the traveler in front of her, it takes a moment for Beahreth to process the hidden request. A lazy smile makes its way back to her face.

"That depends on your next words" she shrugs "If you're planning to drag me somewhere for no good reason then, no, I'm not free this evening."

"Would you maybe want to find out if what I saw really was a teleportation-induced fever dream or something else entirely?"

she taps her chin, "There shouldn't really be any danger, no, hm...i mean", she murmurs, "The magic circle is still theoretical but....it should work yes"

She looks up, bright-eyed, "But you needn't worry about that, I can step in first and check if the path is clear. I wouldn't let anything hurt you, as long as I'm there"

Searching within the satchel, she draws out a teal-bound record, wrapped in gold filigree and a simple ink pen. Flipping to a clean page, she starts drawing something spread across the sheet. After a few seconds of silence with the occasional pen scribbling, she holds up the book.

"This should work...." on the page is a rough scribbled-out magic circle, messy component smushed together in the narrow space. She pushes it towards Beahreth, looking between her and the book with expectant eyes.

The traveler very eagerly showed off the magic circle. It looked well thought through, and most mages know their way around this kind of thing but... a little portal into whatever crazy dimension she saw by accident?

It sounded like trouble, and Beahreth sighed at her own damned curiosity.

Forest of Life... Answers she'd probably forget anyway... an endless cycle.

"How long have you been workshopping that for? A day and a half?" She chuckled, trying to figure out which symbol does what "Looking like it should work and actually testing it are two very different things"

As distrustful as she sounded, Beah stood from her stool, stretching her sore arms out.

"But well, if you say you'll go first then I guess I can tag along and watch how your brain turns to mush in the process"

She waved a hand at the very distracted Dolly in the middle of the tavern, who had seemingly finished the gloves she was darning. The bartender shot her a confused look and a wave back.

This song is for another ship that lives rent-free in my head, which is HotFix, a pairing between Magister Beahreth (@beavthemerlin) and Mirael. I love the lighthearted, slightly goofy way this song portrays pining, and I think it fits the lighter aspects of their dynamic so well, since it's overall just peak idiots to lovers /aff. I have no other reasoning here, other than the fact that this song means a lot to me, and so does this ship.

Lyrics under cut.

Day 1: What Beah would sing/write:

Donut Hole by Hachi (But specifically this Will Stetson cover.)

Though its more of a "this fits her" kind of thing, i do think my dear little Merlin would say some of these lines:

The Mighty Echo -The Family Crest.

Well, less about her and more a message? Still i think it reflects Bea's journey from the perspective of those around her, im thinking Dolly, Hogan and Mirael specifically since they knew her from before her mind went shabonk. Some lyrics that i think fit best down below: