#mayday72023

Albert opened his eyes to the bright sun above.  It hurt like hell.

He didn't know what time it was or how long he had been here in the sand, but he knew it was the same as it ever was awakening with the sand in places he didn't think sand could be and the aches of his former night.  Bones ached, muscles spasmed, and his tongue felt like sandpaper as he tried to lick his lips to help with the dryness that made them burn moreso than the soon to be sunburn to his skin.

Soft lips pressed to his own and a flood of life emanated back into him.

The face of Seafom lifted from his with a smile on her full lips as she looked down from the crown of wet green locks above him as they swayed like vines from above.  Her eyes always bright and full of the sea's energy with that beautiful color he had decided to call her by.  A voice of the tides caressed his skin and lightened his weary body as she spoke to him.  "Owl-burt."

"Good morning, Foamy," his hand gently reaching up to push a lock of the vibrant hair from her face.  She would smile brighter to match the one now pasted on his face, her head curling into his bruised and battered palm as his rough callouses caressed sea-wrought skin.  "Did I sleep well?"

"Owl-burt," Seaform repeated as she ran her hands along his bare tanned chest, her fingers noting the bits of scarring and fresh cuts from his monthly ordeal.  Where once she had been terrified she had now grown used to it Albert supposed, it used to shame him but now had become the light at the end of his nightmarish tunnel.  Her hand noted along his chest to his stomach and even lower as she grinned widely, her sharpened shark teeth prominent as her bright eyes.  "Lowver."

"Oof!  Easy my dear,"  Albert laughed at her as he tried to twist a bit to his embarrassment at being caught so by her, but it was all fun as her musical laugh flitted into his ears.  The beach was full of their voices as the lovers laid in the sand.

It had been almost seven months now since he had come to the island and five since had first met Seafoam in that shrieking moment in the shallows.  Things had progressed slowly and fraught with as much danger to him as it had been for her, granted she had the luxury of swimming away from his episodes as he had to fight not to be drowned.  Or bitten.  Or crushed.  Or who knows how many other horrible ways he may have been maimed by the mermaid of his dreams in her process of learning about him.

Seafoam was exciting, precious, and beautiful.  And she was his.  And he hers, he supposed.  At least that's what he told himself, language was still troubling for the pair.  But they had time.

"Time is all I have with you," Albert touched her neck and face again, to which Seafoam happily guided her face into again.

Coming to the island had been a punishment, an attempt at redemption for the terror he had inflicted on his home and family.  He had created his own hell and was satisfied with his sentence.  But then she came to him.  And where the aftermath of his crimes had seemed to be only darkness, the sea had brought him hope and love.

"I love you, Seafoam."

"Lowve, Owl-burt."

Jaskian looked up at the giant hourglass. It was beautiful, if a bit ‘on the nose’, and you certainly couldn’t ignore it. Soridormi was efficiently moving the next troupe through the time-portal and into the battles ahead. Jaskian pulled her hair up into a more practical plait down her back.

Chronomancy settled into glittering sands of magic around her as she stepped through for the next bit of her research. She was here to help the Bronzes, but also Luminash. Lumi’s misadventure with the timeways had naturally caused a sudden and intense pivot of research from ley-lines to time magic. He was working through things himself, but she would never make her husband tease out the time-tangles by himself.

Once more into the breach! … Or maybe twice.

They would fix this, or at least get it to a point where Luminash felt more empowered than haunted. ~~~

They were back in Silvermoon for now and it was nice to see Farthing and Threadneedle. Kharris held her teacup in both hands, eyes closed and enjoying the warmth. Her ears flickered, listening for the sounds of tiny feet running through the house, and for a moment worry started to rear up instinctively--where was the baby? The thought wasn’t even completely articulated before it resolved itself again.

Asarel’s softest touch against her shoulder, then the press of his lips just behind her ear relaxed her again.

The Dragon Isles were a bit too dangerous for the tiny family right now, and the rest was welcome. Babysitters and playdates were welcome respite, giving the lovers their time to reconnect alone.

Who knew a house could be so quiet? … Well. For a moment. They were probably about to change that.

Her dimples appeared slowly as she smiled and turned toward him. It was good at be home. ~~

Braedyn threaded her fingers through Fortune’s hair rhythmically. He was reading the newspaper, splayed across their bed. She had a novel held up in one hand and was busy with less factual print. Evios was lounging by the door, the big black lion was rumbling something with a notably possessive lilt to it.

Ah, Zeik was in the hall, looking in, as he slinked down the hall. He was not stopping there. No doubt the lynx was heading to the girls’ bedrooms--they spoiled him as much as their father did. The motion of his tail flicking drew her eyes again, but she was back to turn the page then next moment.

The story was nearing its conclusion and only one last mystery remained to be elucidated. Braedyn was so invested that her delicate touches paused, distracted. That was a mistake.

“Ouch!” Instinct slapped the paperback down toward her assailant. He had bitten her!

“Ooph.” Fortune grunted, but then laughed. “I think you hurt me more than I hurt you.”

“You are a damn cat.” She looked cooly down at him, though her cheeks were flushed with mild embarrassment at being caught so off guard. She couldn’t stop his laughter from curling the corners of her lips though.

Fortune laughed again and shoved his newspaper loudly out of the way, then took her book and placed it (though he took care not to lose her place) on the nightstand. He reached over her to turn off the lamp with a very feline grin.

“…Fortune. You haven’t trained the cats to close the door.”

The moment of silence stretched.

Finally, the man slid off the bed to do what his giant cats would not. ~~

Khaeris was at the worried part of the cycle. Resentment had melted away sometime in the night. She was getting stories of brutal Primalist assaults all through the Dragon Isles. Worry would give away to relief, then to moping, then back to resentment.

She flicked through pictures on her comm, trying to ignore that there weren’t any pending messages to check. He’d message when he could. It had been over a week now. Maybe two? … Surely not? Days dripped by like the rain off the orchids here in Zandalar. It was always at night when the household was asleep that Khaeris got caught back up in missing Pollux.

They’d have told her if something had happened right? … Aerden would let her know, right? She sighed and closed the device and started into her ritualistic morning stretches with a heavy heart.

DWC May 2023

Day 7: Aftermath

It was late afternoon in Duskwood, though as always it was hard to tell in the constant shadows of the shire. Braghaman made his way down the road and turned onto the path leading to their house. It had been a productive day training, but Bragh was looking forward to getting home. He was considering what to cook for supper while he waited for Niviene to finish up at the academy. 

As he walked up to the front door, a sound from the side of the house caught Bragh’s attention. Unhooking his mace from his belt, he walked to the side of the building towards the backyard. Stepping around the corner, he found what appeared to be the remains of several skeletons strewn all around the yard. And right in the middle of the mess was Valiant.

The winged lion was sitting and licking one paw. Bones littered the ground around him. Bragh watched for a moment, noticing that there was one skeleton still moving. All that remained was part of the ribcage, one arm, and a skull. But it was slowly pulling itself towards the lion. Before Bragh could do anything, Valiant looked down at the moving skeleton and then batted at it with the paw he had just been licking. The skeleton flew up into the air and landed a few feet away. The lion lifted his paw and started licking it again. After a few moments, the skeleton started hissing and rolled over. Once more, it started clawing at the ground and dragging itself towards the lion. 

Bragh watched as the skeleton managed to make its way back over to Valiant only for the lion to swat it up into the air again.

“This is what you get into while I’m gone?”

Valiant looked at Braghaman and huffed before looking back at the skeleton that was once again crawling his way.

“It looks like what, half a dozen skeletons wandered down here?”

Valiant’s ear flicked.

“Okay, I’ll be back once I’ve got supper started. Hopefully you’ll be done, and we can clean up the aftermath of your playing.”

Valiant huffed again and then looked back at the skeleton. Once more he swatted it into the air. Braghaman shook his head and chuckled before turning back to the house and heading inside.

May 27 - Day 7 Aftermath

Frankly, Fiorenze supposed, realistically, it all could’ve gone worse. 

That didn’t mean it had gone great, but it could’ve gone worse. 

She’d let her anger take over in the field — anger at her failure, anger at her circumstances, anger at Sheizara Tel’vaiel, anger at not knowing what to do, anger at the anger. The primalists and the Zaqali bore the brunt of it as she hammered her targets with wave after wave of brute, arcane force. It was a little unhinged, and she felt better in the wake of it, but that could’ve maybe gone better. More focused was a good goal for next time, less riding the wave. 

Xylaes and Garren could’ve died. They didn’t, somehow. It had been hard to see exactly what happened from how far away she’d been, but they were miraculously perfectly fine. It wasn’t any of her business what had transpired, but she would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want it to be. 

But it couldn’t be her business yet. Xylaes wasn’t thrilled, as expected. There hadn’t been any time to really reconcile any of that before they had to move into action. That could’ve gone better, too, but she’d done her best to keep her distance and tried to lessen her overall presence by keeping her mouth shut, minding her business, and maintaining as low a profile as possible in the early hours — which had been pretty easy, considering how tired she’d been from the gallery. 

That exhaustion compounded. 

Sitting around the fire well on into the evening with mercenaries from other bands who happened to be in the same area had been nice. They were able to swap stories and check in, trade potions, drink and food. Xylaes had come by briefly after his watch had ended, and it was a little stupid how happy it made her just to hear him laugh at Ryland’s bright commentary on the nature of being pounded. 

One by one everyone drifted away, back to their individual camps, leaving them alone together. That could’ve been better. But it could’ve been worse, too. They were both, probably, exhausted. She certainly was. And she hadn’t really known what to say— sorry might’ve been a good start, but the tension was harder to navigate than she’d expected, and he did need to go check on Garren. 

She set up her own personal tent out of line of sight while still being within the camp boundary, and attached the demi-plane magical Penthouse spell to the back wall of that tent before retreating inside. The meals Keranna had packed her could wait; she wasn’t particularly hungry, she hadn’t been particularly hungry for months, and the shed weight had made her look much more willowy and lean, like Pyraelia. 

But the lights would stay on overnight in the demi-plane magical Penthouse, and the sleep she desperately needed would come faster than not. Everything could’ve been better. Everything could’ve been worse.

Tomorrow would be tomorrow’s problem, and that was enough for now.

It was Arlyn's first time in the Azure Span since that incident months ago. She dismounted the rented flying mount with gritted teeth. The camp was safe, logically she knew that, but it would take time for the trauma to heal. Getting captured by primalists, being used a source of power for a magical ritual, and getting one's magic forcefully changed to primal ice was not something one could recover from overnight, right?