the prismatic

A subtle nod was all Casimir gave in retort, it wasn't often the dhampir was without words, but a brow piqued as Vaeros fell into his own state of demands; the crux of pride which shimmered so glaringly in the three of them. Yielding out of curiosity, Casimir shifted upward from his knee and the space between them disappeared, the warmth of the prismatic this staggering cloak upon dead skin. "I thought I was to show you," something of a question, that which was answered immediately as Casimir tipped his mouth to the others - another act which was still mostly foreign to him, a kiss.

"You've shown a decent amount, but I want to see more." The dragon wasn't exactly a patient soul, pride flowed freely between the three of them, as did the restlessness. At some times, the creature didn't know where one of them began and another ended. Maybe he preferred it that way. A dragon, such a solitary being, but not in the past – they weren't meant to be so, as the world had pushed them to be. To commune with spirits, to understand what that meant, and to help Casimir do what he wished to do – beat the Night and the darkness. Or something like that.

Casimir had learned quickly enough that often what Vaeros meant was spattered between each dreaded silence he offered in return. Often, this lack of words did not bother Casimir, as the dhampir seemed to go on his own winded tangents to the point where the Prismatic speaking in turn was a simple pause to every thought Casimir hinged on within. Silent pain which the other carried, secrets which would never be uttered without what trials had pulled them from him.

"Vaeros," he'd said Eivor's true name before, but this time it was a promise, unburdened by what they had yet to face. The dhampir often did not understand affection, but as the pressure of the Prismatic's thumb lessened slightly, Casimir wondered if that was as close as either could be to recognizing the very sentiment.

They shared a sentiment – the one where affection and anything resembling it was foreign enough. The dragon knew desire, he knew carnal feelings and the ones that he shared with others throughout his time, free from Aetheron. Unbound, Vaeros never had a problem making his own desire known. Perhaps that was the same, as Casimir got to his knees in front of him. It was something that made the dragon hum, like he was remembering one of their old conversations. Something about dragons, and this – the prince on his knees was enough for the prismatic.

"My dreams are filled with darkness and blight - the Dark One's visions, but they've never compelled me." He mentioned this idly, on the precipice of the teeth which Eivor had offered in retort to Casimir's regard of home. As a dhampir he was always meant as a child of the night, susceptible to its tenebrous ideals and visions, but this mortal compassion often won out no matter how it wounded him. "Some may think me weak to chase after these ideas of wonder and an unblighted world, but there is something beyond the war, beyond the blood spilled."

He knew that those connected to the blight were plagued with such things. This wasn't going to be the first of it all, nor the last, but assuming Eivor survived his plight into the wilds of Iskaldrik after the felling of the barrier, he'd do what he promised Casimir. He wouldn't let the dhampir lose his home, not like this. Not when the world was faced yet again with more danger. The dragon could care less about it, Vaeros simply cared about those he surrounded himself with – which was a risk in itself. "You know my thoughts. You know my fears." He left it at that; their journey within the valley of soulbreathing and bonding – it unearthed more than Vaeros ever wished to share.

“Isn't all anybody wants is some place to call home?" It was a vulnerability of Casimir to admit, that one mortal piece of him that seemed to break through the vampirism within, but Casimir poised this question anyway. After their time within the Soul Breathing trials he had learned of Eivor's pain, Vaeros' pain, such vulnerabilities that both often did not bring to the surface - Nikandros included in that. 

Eivor bared his teeth, like the thought wasn't enough, and never had been enough, for someone like him. "There used to be a world filled with more wonder than this," from what he could remember, it was a plague that this world was so different. He wished Casimir could have seen it in its totality, instead of through the eyes of one who'd been imprisoned for so much of it. "I ask no one to do this for me. No one to stand in my way." It was a verse the dragon had said many times, but he knew no one liked to listen. Still, the dragon reached out, his hand gripping Casimir's sharp jaw.

"Then enter them as such, lethal'lan. Regret is no use to you, for you don't take it with you back into the Wheel, anyway." The dragon puffed his chest out slightly – he was getting really good at these talks.

Casimir had expected this answer, but the dhampir still faced Eivor rather blankly for several beats as though learning to deal with it. No, Casimir did not care to entertain these troubles of Eterna nor fight for them when it came to the Queen's battles and her messes. Despite this, Casimir had, rather begrudgingly, come to care for many who lived under her reign and he refused to fathom any world nor circumstance where they would no longer reside in this world because the Dark became too much to sustain life within it. 

"Is it truly your home? Is it so easy to place one land above another for you and the mortals of this world?" Eivor was curious, now, pressing once more in their shared Draconic language so he didn't insult Basarab. He saved her language for when Casimir couldn't hear them gossiping. "I could give you much better things to fight for." The dragon was joking – mostly. Still, nothing really made him burn hotter than the promise of violence. He was just built that way.

“I’m trying,” she promised, “It’s just been more difficult since…” She raised her left arm and nodded toward her back to insinuate Hjalmar’s absence. “I worry I took things for granted. I have a lot of regrets about it now. I don’t want to have them with you. I’m glad you accepted my apology, even if you didn't think it was necessary.” She paused for a moment, considering how Eivor approached the world and how he made sense of things. "It feels like we're closer and closer to the battles that will decide the fate of the world. I don't wish to enter them with regret on my mind, clouded with things left unsaid. When they come, I want to enter them with the singular purpose and concern of victory." Perhaps that was too lofty a goal for her friend from her live as Tove, but she could secure a level of certainty with Eivor.

"Then enter them as such, lethal'lan. Regret is no use to you, for you don't take it with you back into the Wheel, anyway." The dragon puffed his chest out slightly – he was getting really good at these talks.

“I just don’t think it was right of me to do that to you,” she explained quietly. “And I know you were free to deny me. And I know even better that nothing moves you to do something you don’t want to do.” They were both stubborn, though it manifested differently. “If that barrier comes down or Avalon is able to locate Lusacan I know each of us will fight our respective battles with every bit of mettle we possess until there is no trace of us left. But if we do and the worst happens…” She was quiet for a moment, gritting her teeth as she tried to formulate how to finish her sentence while making a special effort not to subject the Prismatic to witness her crying once more. “You have been a very good friend to me. And it would wound me deeply if I never apologized, or if one of us was gone and clarification that I did not view or mean to make you feel viewed as a weapon went without clarification.” 

EIVOR, THE PRISMATIC

Do you walk in the valley of kings? Do you walk in the shadow of men Who sold their lives to a dream? Do you ponder the manner of things In the dark? The dark, the dark, the dark I am flesh and I am bone Arise, ting ting, like glitter and gold I've got fire in my soul Rise up, ting ting, like glitter (x)

The question was inane for Casimir's usual standards, but he'd been so caught with Lusacan's ascent to this modern realm that he'd never considered nor worried himself with the various others who'd had similar ambitions of avarice. Old gods; Casimir loathed the very terminology to describe them, and he felt foolish to have never considered the other variables of who could be attempted to crack the surface... all at one moment in time.

"I don't care about Eterna and its troubles." Eivor felt no need to hide his true thoughts from Casimir. He was busy stroking behind Basarab's ears, anyway. "I do not care about their queen. Their Tower. Their magic. I don't care about Haven, about Iskaldrik." The dragon had made that clear for a long time, no matter what he did – if he went in defense of one of these things, these places, it was at the behest of someone else. He felt like he'd gotten soft, making friends and all of that – but still, the dragon valued his independence. Being able to fly away from these cities that overwhelmed him. He didn't understand the culture, he didn't even understand how he was supposed to act – so he left it behind. "Do you?"

“Something is going to change,” Freydis stated quietly of the barrier. “Something is… weaker. Or maybe ready. But nothing has interfered with it for the last year. Something is different now. It's going to change. It' has to.” Whether it was meant for the mortals of Taravell to cross over the border or whether something within the barrier would soon be unleashed, Freydis was convinced some new and gruesome development was on the horizon. “We still intend to fight with you,” Freydis reminded him, her hand momentarily passing over the back of his which rested upon her shoulder. Micefang whirred from below in agreement. 

Freydis nodded as he suggested they move toward the interior of the city walls. Aside from the general buzz of unrest amongst the silver and high Elvhen, things were calm. But that might change. Freydis followed Eivor’s back, Micefang trotting alongside as light-footed as ever as he took turns between whose side he chose to trot most closely to. “I wanted to speak with you about what happened on the Dreadnaught,” Freydis stated once they had found somewhere more permanent to settle. Her mouth felt dry. “In the captain’s quarters.” 

Still, her topic was something surprising. The dragon looked over his shoulder at Freydis as they walked, though when they stopped, somewhere quieter, further from the gate, "What about it? There was nothing we could've done."

where: silver lands or black rock, wherever dragon boi is

when: current timeline

note: howdy

Casimir was no Nightingale, but the rumors they filtered throughout the world were most prominently started and sourced in many circles of the Thieves Guild. Casimir had heard of the stain of blight in Southreach before he'd witnessed it with his own eyes, the sick did not entirely outweigh the living, but it would only be a matter of time. HIs cousin, Lirien, wished for them to flee, but Casimir had known that this would all only end in one way, and it would do little good to try and escape the blighted roots of the earth, for inevitably they would all be infested.

He wasted little time for introductions, for he had found that had never been Eivor's style, but Casimir had been grateful to find the prismatic. The Feywilds had become practically overrun with various elvhen traversing through and it was through them, Casimir had learned of the blight within Avalon; a full blown rot rather than the falling of a few leaves. "How many Old Gods are trying to crack through the surface?" It's pondered aloud but Casimir had known of Lusacan through the teachings of the Church of Night, and not all the taint that currently ravaged the world spoke his name. "It cannot be just Lusacan."

"He will not be the first, and he won't be the last." Eivor's gaze met Casimir's from across the wilds, eventually closing the distance between the two of them as the dhampir made his presence known. The dragon was more of a watchful eye, seeing those who left Avalon – some having never left in their life – facing the threat of being stuck beyond the Moongate for a mortal end. It was not easy for them to face, and many chose to stay behind before ever considering leaving the dimming light of the Laurelin.

“Nothing is wrong,” she responded before jerking her head to the side slightly as if prompting Eivor to look around, “aside from the obvious.” But the obvious was beginning to feel like the usual. She chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment before looking back to him. “I was curious which direction you might be headed in first. And I wanted to ask, if everything falls apart all at once or fate decides that you are to go after Lusacan within Avalon, which Aetherian’s head am I to bring you as a trophy?” There was a quiet flame of ferocity within her as she asked that likely had not truly been present since shortly after the initial exodus of Iskaldrik, though Freydis did not know that she truly suspected the Weave to intervene and force a choice between the two battles.

"Well...here I am." He tilted his head, looking back over his shoulder at the gates of the Silver Elvhen city. "Should we go in?" He dropped his hand from her shoulder a softer touch from the ones that he'd done prior. But that didn't mean she wouldn't get a slap on the back when they parted ways, either. He was just saving that.