Some shots of -some- of Silvaineaux’s friends from Priarch’s mission last night.
Top picture: with Sui ( @bookbornexiv ) and Lyrin’a ( @hiraethwyl ) visiting Nophica’s Shrine and asking questions in Gridiania.
Bottom Picture starring: Sui, Inwa ( @daylightrays ), Talia ( @reddevil-xiv ), Okuni ( @liminal-storage ) and Louvel ( @louvel-roche ).
Not appearing In these pictures because I couldn’t managed to catch everyone clumped up well enough early in the evening when all were still present, but also very important friends: Edarien ( @thedarknesssings ), Idristan ( @roses-and-grimoires ), Lanceleaux ( @gorgagne-viperidae ) , Rinalys ( @dawning-star ) Latik’a ( @latikaa-renaz ) Raasa (Whose character tumblr I do not know), and Leila Eris who does not have one.
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Honore had never welcomed his nightmares before. And he would not have said, really, that he -welcomed- them even now. Yet, compared to the endless ringing silence and solitude of his cell he was not sure that they were so terribly much worse. It had not been quite so bad when Sabri was there. There had at least been another voice to answer him sometimes when he talked, and even when Sabri only listened Honore had known he was not alone.
He was alone now. Sometimes Honore wondered if it would drive him mad, all this emptiness and no thoughts but his own to fill it. His own thoughts were far from pleasant ones. He didn't know where Sabri had gone. Had they killed him? Was that what awaited him too when they finally tired of keeping him here with nothing but stone and his nightmares for company? He tried not to imagine it. But he had always been far too good at imagining.
Honore fought sleep out of habit, but there was something in the stones that sapped his strength. He felt weaker and wearier by the day. Had it been days? Weeks? There was no sun and no sense of time. Now, even when he ached to hear something that wasn't this ringing silence, his own voice had become difficult to rouse. Even speech was an effort he lacked the strength for. And so despite himself he slipped into sleep again.
His dream started full of the same eternal silence as waking, stone walls, cold bars. He did not want to hear the voice, yet when it came it was familiar and that familiarity felt frighteningly like relief.
"Aurelien..." It called. And he felt it in his bones, it tugged at every fiber of his being and drew him back to his dreaming feet. He had never heard anything like that voice except here in his nightmares. It was loud, it demanded, it pleaded. It hummed in his bones and muscles and sometimes he thought it wasn't even really saying words but he heard them. They sounded like a song. "Come to me..."
'That isn't your name to call me.' He wanted to say, but didn't. What if he went to it? Was whatever it was that had called him for so long any worse than what awaited him on waking? "Aurelien..." There was an opening at the back of the cell, black and yawning in the stone, winding downward into the heavy darkness of the earth. "My Aurelien."
Its call pulled at him, as though it had twined a cord around some innermost core of him and tugged. He tried not to go but his feet moved, crossing the cell in the three strides he knew it took.
He reached out to grip the edges of the opening, digging his fingers into the stone until its roughness hurt. "Aurelien. Why won't you come? I have been waiting..." It was a song in his bones, a rumbling thing. Honore thought he could even feel it in the stone under his feet. He didn't want what it wanted. He was afraid of it. But he was afraid of waking too.
"No..." He whispered, but there was no strength in it. His hands loosened, trailing over the stone as he was pulled a few more steps down into the dark. "I don't want this..." He pleaded.
"Aurelien... you are hurt. Come to me. I will help you."
Honore stopped in his tracks. It had never said that before, and for a moment the surprise of it reminded him to dig his heels into the stone. He peered into the darkness ahead of him but there was nothing to see. Dimly distant he heard water dripping, and was that soft whisper a movement? "How could you help me?"
"My Aurelien." There was something pleased in that rumble. Something fierce and gloating in the way it hummed along his nerves. "Come to me." It roared and sang "Now you are free to. I can give you such help. Such power that you can stop this, that you can destroy the ones who would hurt you. You will be able to protect the ones you worry for. Come to me. We will never let this happen again..."
Honore stepped forward, not pulled this time for the tugging had ceased. Two strides forward before he caught himself and stopped. Those steps had been his own.
That thought jerked him awake, a sharp gasp filling his lungs with air that smelled of herbs and medicines. There was a light above him, a blanket tucked up over his chest, a curtain at the foot of the bed. And beside the bed there were people. Rinalys. Viper. And somewhere beyond the curtain came the familiar deep tones of Silvaineaux's voice.
Honore's eyes closed, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. It hurt and the taste of blood was sharp in his mouth, but when his eyes opened they were all still there. He was home. He was safe. He didn't have to answer the voice. But he thought of it, even here in the brightness of the infirmary, surrounded by friendly faces. 'Come to me. We will never let this happen again.'
@rinrin-rinalys @thedarknesssings for mentions of Rinalys and Viper. @daylightrays for Sabri.
In which a valiant Knight of Ishgard and a loyal servant of Nophica venture forth on an errand of mysterious purpose.
Some screenshots from RP with @bookbornexiv and later @thedarknesssings. The seemingly simple errand Silvaineaux asked Sui Bian to accompany him on failed to go at all as Silvaineaux had planned or hoped. It was a great deal of fun!
Silvaineaux sat beside Honore’s bed to write, paper spread over the top of the nearest large book and quill gripped achingly tight in his fingers. His eyes lifted from the paper between every line, seeking some change in his brother's immobile features. The scratching of the quill paused with the end of each sentence as much to let him listen to each rasping breath as to consider the next words.
His writing was more jagged than usual, the ink blotted here and there, but he did not move to replace the paper or start anew.
Edarien,
I am sorry that I will not be able to be there to assist you with the expedition, and I apologize for the shortness of the notice. I think you know that nothing but the most dire of emergencies would keep me absent when I am needed. Honore is very ill. His nightmares have been growing worse. He walks in his sleep sometimes. One of them must have drawn him out into the snow. He was not conscious when I found him and I do not know if it is only the cold or something more. He is fevered and will not wake. I can't leave him.
Please take care of all of them for me. Especially those who won't take care of themselves, and yourself. I am sorry, but I am sure you will understand.
-Silvaineaux
Postscript- If you can think of anything or anyone who might help where the chirurgeons have thus far failed I would be forever indebted. Even more than I already am. -S. R.
The wax dripped unevenly when he closed it and he took less care than he should have of the imprint. He handed the paper into Alain's waiting hands without sparing it or his valet a second glance.
