#devotedhero

___

A new day had risen in the grove, illuminating the tiefling camp. There was one among them not quite like the others; a cleric, kneeling since the early hours of dawn in front of a small portable altar. Though he too was an Elturian, his human appearance attracted more sympathy than those of infernal lineage. It was his objective to use this advantage to help his countrymen get to a safe place.

However, his prayer was interrupted by the news that one of theirs had gone missing. Ashen rose to his feet, listening intently. Without hesitation, he volunteered for the search, insisted that he would go alone - not to endanger any civilian. The tieflings knew of his Hellrider past - they were not concerned he would know how to defend himself, unlike poor Alfira.

In his plate armour, the Helmite priest set off for the wilderness, questioning passerby after passerby. A day had been enough for him to find the trace of the camp where the bard had last asked for shelter. There was nearly no doubt these were the people he was looking for.

Tav—so dark are your eyes of late... once bright as skies, there now lurks shadow. Gale notes the bruises beneath them, wading in a shade half-night soaked amethyst, and he recalls with clarity, guilt throbbing in his bones, that they, most all of them, harbor horrors. His orb sings beneath his skin, a branding of his folly, and Tav, frightened, appears equally haunted; like the Weave in his veins, he's storm surge-swept.

Why?

(Alfira laughs in his thoughts, sparkling like bell-song. Gale cannot notice when it morphs to yowls.)

"Ah. Nothing a very meticulously prepared cup of Calimport blend won't temper."

Ha. If only. Gale, sympathetic, settles onto the tree turned bench, and with him, the aroma of cardamom gingerly lingers. He sets the tea onto the log propped up to his left, and with a sincerity and care writ plain on his face, turns to regard this troubled friend. "I could conjure a thousand words to describe what is you bring me, and trouble, I assure you, could never be one," he says. "In my experience, the weight of a burden unsaid is more harrowing than a burden unshared. "

Come. Relinquish the weight.

@devotedhero, cont. (feel free to ignore <3)

The melody of a flute echoed across the camp while most companions were asleep. Tav, as always, was restless, not being able to sleep due to the monstrosity which haunted his dreams, trying to bleed and take his mind away. So he was next to the river, sitting down on the edge barefoot, feeling the cold water against his feet. It alleviated his anxiety, though not enough to quiet his mind. Then, the music reached his ears, and he closed his eyes, focusing on it instead. He spent some minutes listening to it attentively, clearing his head. It helped. Now, curiosity washed his soul, and he looked around, trying to find the source of the melody. Putting his shoes on, he walked towards the direction of the sound to find Birvor.

Tav didn't want to interrupt him; watching him from afar, admiring the music. It was incredible, and it helped him relax. Maybe there was still salvation for that urge of his, to keep it in control. It inspired Tav to keep struggling, fighting. Nothing was impossible.

Just because he'd learned all his music lessons on the flute did not mean he was a fan of it in particular. All those holes to blow combined with his tusks bumping around and carelessly gripping the wood soon meant there were extra holes on the damn thing. And there wasn't a damn thing to deter him from chomping down hard enough in frustration- not unlike the strings of a lute that would snap and leave the back of his hand stinging with the reminder to pluck lighter next time.

Still, it took quite a bit of lung power to blow into a flute, and when he was feeling particularly angry, he did not scream into pillows like his brother did- no. Screaming into a flute, however...at least something came of it.

After depositing his lung's worth of rage stocks into the instrument, he pulled back to pant and scrub the dribble of spittle away from his jawline. This was just the reprieve needed for him two notice the unwanted audience nearby, feet weirdly bare and wet...the camp really did have a degenerate problem.

It was surprisingly pleasant to have Halsin in camp now. Tav admired druids for their love for nature and life, as well as their unique ways to see living beings. With Halsin around, he felt calmer, with his goals in mind; after all, the Druid was aware of the Shadow Curse and he was the one who pointed them to Moonrise Towers. Perhaps a part of his past was awaiting Tav there -- whoever he was, what he did... who knew? And, mostly important, why did he have those urges from time to time? There was an evening Tav approached the man with the intention of finding out more about the Urge. At least, try. Halsin seemed to know a lot about tadpoles, Mind Flayers and the curse itself. He probably had some idea what the Hells was wrong with Tav. Hopefully.

"Good evening, Halsin." He greeted the Druid politely, giving him a smile. "I wonder if you have time to... discuss something? If you're not busy, of course." A tone of anxiety was clear in his voice, though he tried his best to hide it.

The last camping expedition had not gone so well with Aardin. The man was ambitious, pressing towards Moonrise in a way that Halsin couldn't ignore lest he miss his chance for answers. Foolish he was to think the cowardly captain could handle a few goblins. It had taken all of the Archdruid's strength to hold them off, and yet the band of humans had still fled when his strength against the onslaught had weakened. Such was the way of nature...to leave the wounded behind. An act of self-preservation at its finest.

So it was with some hesitance that he pitched a tent, albeit- farther away from the others, lest he draw any concerns from the usual herd with his presence. He did not expect visitors, especially with the sun already long gone beyond the horizon. Set by a small, lit brazier outside his tent, he drew his gaze up from the whittling tools he'd been polishing to the stranger that had been among those that sprung him from the goblin's camp. Curious...for it to be so late and yet-...no, he supposed he could not determine if the lack of pointed ears meant anything in regards to the other's sleep or meditation patterns. Stranger combinations were created in the wilds all the time.

"Evening already? And a good one at that...imagine my surprise." He chuckled, shaking his head as he shifted to make room by the glowing heat of the brazier should his company like to join him. "You wear your heart on your sleeve, I see. Were there anything pressing to discuss, I would give a listen..."

❝ thing is... we just don't know, tav. ❞ she wished she sounded less exasperated, but the truth was she had always hated not knowing what was happening with her patients, ❝ cerebral injuries are already complex enough without accounting for your particular problem and nothing i've tried until now suggest i can heal whatever is blocking your memory. ❞ she breathes deep, takes his hand into her and look him in the eye. ❝ i'm really sorry i don't have better news. ❞

@devotedhero liked for a Gwen!

No one really expected to run into a person in the middle of the woods in the dead of night. The near full moon beamed brightly overhead, mottling the forest floor between branches. Just enough to see each other, if barely.

(I lost the source meme rip 😔)

He's quiet, and can't bring himself to look at Tav, or his own hand, as if they'd still be drenched in the blood of his sins. Instead the boy, as that is what he still is despite his protests, is looking off to the side, pretending to study the leaves of a tree.