WENT DOWN IN HISTORY- Your museâs story is passed down through the ages, sometimes being stretched or exaggerated in places until it becomes a legend told in storybooks and campfires as poems, tall tales, etc.
She was the picture of regality. All straight backed andpoised with her hands clasped in her lap and her chin held aloft as the hardestof expressions etched across her face. A formidable woman and one of theharshest storms to weather according to the stories. Her form was illuminatedwith a small lantern, an enchanted flame flickering about in the glass housingas warmth and light spilled over the canvas that held her. Valiriel Nimâliante.The Lady of Woods End.
âMinnâda.â A soft voice came as a sun kissed hand splayed itsfingers over the painting, feeling the globs of paint and piled on texturebeneath short, dirty nails. She was the perfect blend of them both. Long,impossibly curled and coiffed hair that looked a dirty cream more than it didwhite. Her nose splattered with freckles and her skin a soft mix of burnt umberand alabaster.
âShe was such a brat,â came a voice over the young elfâsshoulder and the soft tapping of shoes to the ground marked his approach. âYoushouldnât speak ill of the dead, annâda.â She frowned at her father, scoldinghim lightly for his choice of words which only earned a chuckle and an impishsmile in response. âIâm only telling you the truth, Frog.â Daeon replied,stepping up beside his daughter and pulling the lamp from her grasp to hold ita little higher above them both so that Valirielâs fel fire painted eyes wereshown off in the dim lighting. âShe looks⌠mean.â The young elf noted, rubbingat her arm absently as she regarded the painted visage of her late mother andshrank beneath her heavy gaze.
âOh, she was terribly mean.â
âThen⌠whââ
âBecause she was awfully pretty too, donât you think?â Hequipped, meeting the little frogâs pout with another flash of his own amusement.The mage set a hand to his daughterâs shoulder, squeezing it gently as hesighed and relented. âYour mother brought such great prosperity to her home andto the people around her. Broke down borders with the scribble of her quill andendured just as much anguish as she ever deserved.â It seemed to be enough tosate her curiosities and the apprehension his daughter had felt standing beforethe painting twice as large as her seemed to melt into something akin tochildlike wonder instead. âRubbish with magic, though.â Daeon added once more, glancingaway from the look he received from the child at his side. It was one more ofconfusion than anything as harsh as her ire though.
âBut her journals say things of fel fire and demons⌠Is thatnot magic, annâda?â
âOf course not. Come now, we can admire your mother laterwhen our spider cakes arenât out there growing cold.â
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SECRET END- Crack. Come up with the silliest end to your museâs story as possible.
There was more of a waddle in her gait these days and herbelly had grown wide and heavy with child. With her third child. The backs ofher hands and the tops of her feet still carried the scars and runes of a timegone by but that was all that remained of her days with her nose stuck in a feltome and her mind bubbling with terrible ideas. She still wore the title of Lady but resided in a land that cared littlefor the birthright she had forsaken. She no longer made her home amongst thetrees of Woods End or found herself wary at night of the skittering arachnids thatcalled the Cradle theirs. They made a home now far from her ancestral lands andfarther still from the machinations of the Sable Veil.
Their cabin was small and it was as humble as it was loud inthe evenings when her children rounded the dinner table for the feasts Valirielhad still not mastered. But she was their mother and they devoured what shegave them before begging for seconds. Her days were spent cleaning and caringfor a home she had never wanted while the children she had preferred not tocarry tumbled with their father in the grass and muck of their tucked away sanctuarybetween lessons. Â Elsewhere in the cabinwandered Worm, the cat who came to stay more often than he left, with whiskerssinged from his persistent chase of the mana wyrm he adored that darted through room toroom.
She was no longer Valiriel Nimâliante. Instead she wasmerely Valiriel Draugelea with a home on the edge of a sleepy town and noempire of knowledge and power under foot.
Basically the silliest end I could think of for Val was her becoming a housewife. This also doubles as her worst nightmare lmao. THANK YOU @brul
đ... someone my muse hates. đ... someone my muse would kill for.
THANKS FOR NOT TELLING ME I HAD A MESSAGE, TUMBLR.
⌠someone my muse hates :
Valiriel finds room in her heart to dislike a lot of people and for a multitude of reasons. Right now though a lot of her energy and resentment is aimed towards the Kirin Tor for⌠completely childish and selfish reasons. Itâs pretty easy to provoke her ire.
⌠someone my muse would kill for.
The cheap easy answer here is her husband, Daeon. She is more than happy and willing to kill for him. Heâd never ask for it and spends far more of his time talking her down from such rash decisions but the willingness is there on her part completely.Â
What were Val's first thoughts when she saw Faervell on Daznook? How about her first thoughts when she saw Daeon back on Azeroth when she returned?
Daznook as a whole just roused up a whole lot of panic and horror for her, as to be expected. With Faervell in particular, nothing all that unusual sprang to mind upon first seeing him. She didnât recognize him so he under just as much distrust and suspicion as anyone else locked up with them. There was some consideration on whether or not he would be expendable and that thought pretty much stuck around for a majority of their stay until he managed to become more or less a concrete component in her survival as well as essentially a symbol of something akin to comfort for her while locked up.Â
Her initial thoughts on seeing Daeon after her return were just ones of relief and quiet, really. She had spent weeks agonizing over what she understood to be her worst fears becoming reality. That she had been forgotten, that she was irrelevant and that her life would be cut short long before she had managed to accumulate all of the things she thought she rightfully deserved. So to have him there telling her how he had worked tirelessly to find her and to know how much of a fuss he had gotten into over her being gone, it was all enough to bring her back down and soothe the panic and terror she brought back with her.
Time was such a fickle thing in Daznook. Seconds seemed like hours while what might be a day felt like merely a minute. No one in that place could ever tell how long they had been there, only knowing that they were there one moment longer. That they had survived one breath more. That they were alive for seconds more.
Where perhaps before one found themselves gauging time by counting moments that signaled their life dragged on, some odd measure of time was counted between when food would be tossed to the cages or they were dragged from them for more interrogation. Faervell and Valiriel had no longer taken to this. No, they counted time in each second that they continued to elude the demons of that forsaken place. And it seemed many times that they had nearly found those seconds cut short by some misstep taken along this sudden escape.
While plans had been made, they only knew so much of what actually was on Daznook. Often times, their dragging by the demons taking them on a far too familiar route directly from the cages to the stones and never straying. What point was there for the demons to stray either? They were lost, yet continued on with the sharp determination of wild animals that would not be caged again. They would not let themselves die there.
Very little sleep had been found, just as it was in the cages. No place was safe, and any time rest was found, it was found tucked in some dark, uncomfortable place amongst the broken stones to the edges of that shattered plane. It was cold, and little could be done of it. They slept in shifts, always one eye open, scanning each stone around them for any demon that might erupt out from beneath the two and tear them from their escape.
Often times it was quiet- no demons to be seen, but every once in awhile, small packs of hounds or imps wandered. They, in some twisted manner, provided them with enough energies to liveâŚeven if the food was not there. It wasnât the same, though, and each pang of hunger or pain of the useless action of their tongue trying to wet their lips was a torture in itself.
Faervell hated it. Every damned second of it.
It was hard to walk, to grab hold of things, to ignore the pains that caused him, at times, to shake uncontrollably with the pain. Valiriel was in no better state, often times having to rest after a while, even if she would not admit the pain her wounds were actually causing her. That was understandable to Faervell. He had expected that, even from the start of it all. But that was far from the worst thing there.
The voices- voices of a thousand whispers that spoke and echoed in his ears and around the rocks they hid in. They seemed deafening now, where before they spoke softly when he was in the cage. He never could get them out of his head, speaking of doubts that he tried to push away, of unknown endings, of assumptions that ended in the worst of ways. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, merely the sounds of his own thoughts, and that if he would ignore them well enough, that they would be gone.
They never left.
Instead, they were supplemented by false visions. Demons of various shapes and despicable appearances moving around him. Sometimes, they kept their distance, but other times they were right beside him, forcing him to hold his breath and curl in close to himself out of fear. Often times he would try and tell Valiriel of them, to warn her, or start to run from them. She would only tell him she did not see them or sharply demand an end to his panic for the sheer fact that she -knew- they werenât real.
There was an odd understanding, though, and while it obviously would frustrate her or jar her from what little calm she might find, to insert a sharp pin of fear, she hadnât left him there alone. Instead, she trudged on, only searching for ways out of that place.
Daznook truly was horrendous. Often times, the only ways in and out were one cluster of portals that only at rare, inconsistent times would open forth to allow demons to make their ways. On every portal, there were demons guarding it, watching over it and the towers of the prisoners; prisoners that served a better use as a source of energy to keep the portals activated or open to new places.
Several times, Valiriel and Faervell had found similar setups. Souls feeding into fel constructed machines that served only to further destruction in the world. It sent a chilling reality of the situation and of the fate of many of those who did survive the torturous grasp of the inquisitors or the cold cells they had been in. Nothing was wasted by the legion if it would further their goal to destroy all of creation.
It was a chilling truth to say that there was little chance to escape through the main portals without having themselves cut down or worse, making it to the other side only to be destroyed just as they saw their freedom, wherever that might be. Neither of them wished to speak of the distaste for the latter, a solid understanding of how much worse of a death that would be. Neither were fit to run for such a risk, and neither wished for those outcomes.
It was that fact that lead to a mutual agreement between the two: if they were to make it out, they would have to create their own door. Perhaps the fortunate thing they were offered was that both of them seemed to have a steady knowledge of portals and runes. Valiriel matched Faervellâs own understanding and helped him calculate just what they would need to get a temporary window open for their escape.
A surface to paint the runes, the material to set the runes down with, and power to fuel the spell. Power was the most necessary thing, and while plenty of fel surrounded them, it did not affix the spell to a permanent formation- at least, one long enough for them to run through without finding their bodies potentially cut off. The surface could be found, loose stones brushed away from a more flat place among the rocky crags.
In their escape, they both came to terms easily with the idea of having to sacrifice the lives of others in order to live. Still, the sentiment held true, and their decisions were simple. They would find both the liquid to paint the runes and the energies from the prisoners. Neither forgot that not so long ago, they were part of that group.
Souls were taken, sharded and collected.
Blood was drained, soaked and contained.
Time was such a fickle thing, but the seconds could not seem to drag on longer than when it was time to prepare the portal. Each detail -had- to be right, and Faervell would not make the same mistake that landed him in that situation. He was meticulous, and not once had Valiriel pushed for a faster completion. There was no reason to rush that final step- they would not waste their one chance for a wish to rush it.
The moment that Faervell realized that the portal was open was paired with a large sigh of relief. They had managed it. It had been dangerous- especially with going to the prisons were they collected the souls for their portal. Demons had been wandering out further to find any sign of some of the warlocks that had escaped, but they had managed even still. Valiriel reminded him to waste no more time looking at the circle, her voice cutting through the whispers that still hissed in his ear of all the ways the plan would fail and how death would be the only thing that met him. It was time.
It was time to open the portal.
He remembered the first time he had seen this woman, crazed just as he was with the rush of being deposited in such a place, quick to try and think of some way out. Somehow, along the way, he had taken comfort in her presence, looking to keep close if only for the sanity and companionship she offered. They had created a plan together, managing to stay true to it and not grow greedy for the freedom theyâd surely not claim were they to try such a thing alone.
And now he sat there, once more taking her hand and feeling the tether of energies connect them. It was a familiar sensation, one he had done countless times before, and it always gave him such a rush. His grip tightened, and with sharp syllables, Valiriel and Faervell tore open a portal through the nether. It was small, but it was enough, and without hesitation the pair went through the brief door.
Sound was lost, and any feeling of a firm foothold was gone. Faervell felt helpless, his grip on Valirielâs hand slipping as he tossed and turned. There were arcs of lighting around the pair, and clouds that were filled with freezing winds, with sharp dusts, suddenly took over them. Breath was taken from their lungs and slowly, Faervell had to close his eyes to ignore the sickness that was rising up in his throat. It felt jarring to be so helpless through that place, yet they were lead through it all by some thin string, drawn towards whatever small opening they might find on the other side.
It was suffocating at first, suddenly being dropped into something that felt warmer than the sharp cold of the nether. It was so abrupt a change, that at first, Faervell thought perhaps he had lost himself halfway through the journey. After all, it felt as though he was so weightlessâŚyet he felt something below him.
Pushing up suddenly, the man realized he was in shallow waters that moved slowly towards something more to his left. He opened his eyes to this crystalline sight, seeing the dirt and grime wash away from his body and a bright sunlight reflecting off the surface of the water around him. It was near blinding, and he sucked in a breath- a breath of fresh, untainted air. It still felt as though it burned, but it did not make him want to cough, and as he lifted his head, looking around, all he saw was green.
Foliage was thick, draping vines falling almost perfectly to form some scenic glade. The water that he had landed in was cool, yet not freezing. The air was fresh and smelled like soft flowers and warm dirt. The sun could be seen, could be felt. It was late in the day, the warmth surrounding them in a pleasant way without burning and biting at their flesh. The sounds of nature and life surrounded him, and felt as if it might deafen him.
With such an overwhelming sight, he had all but forgotten the pains throughout his body, the hand that he had used to brace himself the worst off, as it twisted the broken bones under the clear waters.
A sudden fear.
âValiriel? Val-â He stopped short. She was there, everything was fine. He felt some heavy weight fall from him, seeing that fact. Seeing that she was there.
âFaervell- Yes. Iâm here. Where are we? What is this place?â
As if he would know. He quickly spoke out, âI have no idea. But we areâŚweâre alive. We made it.â Yet water was around, and suddenly it made him painfully aware of how thirsty he was. He didnât care of there was still dirt that was washing from his hands, he cupped up some of it and brought it straight to his mouth.
It was cool, yet nearly painful for how it felt against his dried lips and parched throat. He hadnât felt such a thing for so long, and now that he was given it, and so suddenly, he was reminded of how sick he felt. He didnât manage to drink any. He merely let it dampen his mouth enough so that it would not hurt as bad when he needed to talk. He did not even care if Valiriel had given him a look or not.
Faervell was so glad, even if this was some dream- something that came after his death. Even if it meant that, he was still glad to be gone from Daznook.
To be away from the dark prisons with unforgiving living metal.
To be away from the cold void that he so often had to look out upon.
To be away from the smell of piss and blood and death.
To be away from the jailors that dragged them. To be away from sharp rocks that made his skin raw.
Away from the Inquisitors. Away from their fingers digging into his mind and stealing his thoughts and memories. Twisting them before his eyes and bringing forth only tortured cries that would last till his throat was too raw to allow him to scream.
Away from the whispers that filled his head, that tried to steal away any hope that might be there, that made him want for nothing but death.
Away from the torture.
Away from the fear.
Faervell could hear Valiriel start to say something, but before he could register what she was saying, there was another voice. Someone who seemed to have a lilt of some seductive and coy tone to her, and who sounded far too close to a certain demon for Faervellâs tastes.
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Valiriel and Faervell had planned tirelessly in whispers, fearing that someone or something might catch them and kill them on the spot. He relied on her, just as she did with him. He knew he would not get out alone, and if there was any semblance of a trustworthy person within those cells, it had been this woman who had spent the same amount of hellish time here as he had.
While they had practically no energy, the others still had something around them. Endless cages hosted broken souls much like themselves. While there was little to have, there was enough to regain some of their strength to enact the plan.
Siphon the prisons dry of their lives and energy, draw it to themselves, and then wait. Wait for a demon to cross the valley that hosted their towers of cages, reach out to it together, and force it to open their confines for them. Run for the cliffs and hide there until they could better form a way out. A portal or something similar that they could escape with.
They would not wait long, both like wild animals, ready to fight their way out of those cages that theyâd been kept in. Their moment came when Faervell awoke, noticing no patrol of demons or lingering little tormentors bounding about the valley. He narrowed his eyes, licking at cracked and dry lips uselessly while jumping upon this small chance.
He had not forgotten. He would meet them, he would reach for the promise of the people that were looking for them.
Faervell was quick to reach for the woman that heâd grown so familiar with in their time there. There was a small shake, his hand firmly on her arm as he roused her. His voice, hoarse from the endless screams of pain the demons drew from him, spoke rushedly despite the pain. âValiriel. Valiriel, wake up.â
It would not take long, considering. Her eyes sprung open and she looked around with fear and the starting signs of panic. There was a weak, fearful noise close to a sob as she pathetically pleaded, âNo, no, no.â When he met her gaze, she reached to take hold of his arm in a want for comfort and aid, sitting up from her spot on the floor.
âWhat? What is it?â Her voice was raw as well, weak from both just rousing and the pain of old screams.
Faervell hardly waited for the question to end, speaking with a hushed rush, âThereâs more⌠Thereâs more people around us.â He spoke with emphasis on the words, a sign that their moment had come.
Valirielâs hand left his arm, and she looked around before murmuring, âAre there enough, you think? I donât want to wait any longer.â
âIf extended to some of the cages around us, like we talked about. You remember, yes? Extend equallyâŚ. We mightâŚ. It might be the best and only chance.â Even so, he kept his voice low, not wanting to give away their plan to anyone that might be near to them, if they were even the slightest bit there.
He saw the determination slowly enter her gaze. âRight, well. If thatâs all weâll get, thatâs all weâll need then.â
âYou remember the rest of the plan from there, right?â He would not take his chances with this one. âWe get the demonâŚwe run for the clefts to avoid the packs.â
âTo the clefts. Find a way out.â She nodded, assuring him that she was still remembering the plan perfectly. âIâll follow your lead.â
Faervell returned the nod. âOn three.â He shifted, turning to face the others in their cage, the poor broken souls. Most were covered in soot and blood, just as they were. Some shaking, most trying to rest or get what sparse sleep they could. Each looked dead, losing their hope and just awaiting their death to come at the hands of the demons that had tormented them or the hunger that threatened to overtake them each day.
The man felt some brief pity for them, seeing only a mirrored state of his own withering body and soul. He had been so close. Just as they were, giving in to their fates and wasting away to death. Yet, in the same moment, he lost the pity in terms of his own greed for life. He would not let sympathy stop him from living, and neither would the woman besides him, with whom heâd share the energies equally for their survival.
He gave one last glance to the valleyâs entrances, seeing no demons still, and then speaking quietly while he looked back to the cage.
âOneâŚâ
Faervell would not give up.
â...TwoâŚâ
Faervell would make it away to those that awaited him.
â...Three.â
Faervell would kill anyone or thing necessary to reach that goal.
The unbroken hand reached out, green energies wrapping around his fingertips and slithering outward. It was weak at first, but quick to grab onto the others in the cage. Immediately, he felt the energies drawn, and his body was greedy for them all.
The victims gasped and cried out in pain under the green haze that now filled the cage from both warlocks. Some tried to get away, reaching for the bars and dragging themselves closer to the edges, as if they could escape the spell that stole away their life before them. However, they soon lost their breath, and their skin sunk in while their muscles withered. No cries sounded out any longer, and soon the light left their eyes.
They were dead in the span of seconds.
Faervell felt alive.
The energies were like a jolt, as small as it was. The hunger, thirst, painâŚall if it dimmed, even if only a slight bit. It was dizzying for him, nearly causing his stomach to turn out what little he may have had in it. He would not waste the time on such things, though. Instead, he went quickly to Valiriel.
âGet the cage behind you; I am going to get the other side. Make sure they do not see.â The words came in a hiss, his own fear for the demons to hear the sounds of this escape entering his voice.
They both separated, crawling over the corpses of the prisoners till they were at the sides of the cage, facing others in the large towers. Faervell reached through the bars, his broken hand shooting with pain as it braced him. His entire good hand had a stronger line flow from it, leading to the cage over to the side, and quickly that line of deadly magic wrapped around the souls like a snake curling around itâs prey.
The past repeated, life given to the man from the deaths of many others.
He felt stronger, and as the last of the life was drained away, he looked back to Valiriel to see her finished as well.
âAre youâŚ?â What could he sayâŚ. Alright? Ready? Better? His eyes lingered on her for a time, but in the end, would be drawn once more around, concerned for the chance that a demon might be upon them now.
Faervell saw the motion of a nod in the corner of his gaze, then then heard her voice raise up, sounding far better than it had just moments ago. âI am capable.â
There was reassurance in his mind before he saw what would be expected. Meandering up the path came a lesser demon. It was no inquisitor, what with its many eyes, but it certainly was not as weak as an imp either. It wandered about, cruelly grinning at the souls in the cage. Surely, it had come to poke and prod and taunt those trapped, as the demons so often too pleasure in doing.
âWill he do, you think?â Faervell whispered to his companion, as if the demon could hear them so well.
Valiriel gave a nod. âIf we have to go smaller, weâll be stuck with imps and I donât think theyâre able to open the cells themselves. This is our chance, Faervell.â She looked to him briefly. âOur one, good chance.â
âThen we shall act quickly. Are you ready?â
âYes,â she said simply, slipping away from her side of the cage to his, and stretching her hand outside of the bars. Instead of the haze of green pulling energies to her this time, there was an invisible tether that reached out, taking hold of the demon like a hand that would control a puppet.
Faervell saw the demon freeze mid-stride, its limbs twitching and its features distressed. He wasted no time in placing his hand upon Valirielâs arm still within the cage, a familiar sensation flowing through him as he linked to her energies and fed into the natural lines that coursed through the both of them. It created a synchronicity, like a thump of a heartbeat that would beat at the same time, each time. It would strengthen her spell, tighten her hold, and allow her that complete control of the demon.
The demon moved, guided to their cage by Valiriels fingers that plucked at the air like pulling on strings. It stared at them both through the bars, eyes glazed over and unfocused. Absent-minded. Under their guidance and control, the demon orchestrated the same movements they had studied day after day to part the bars for them, creating a door where none had been before.
He wanted to run immediately, but he knew if the connection between Valiriel and him broke, then sheâd lose the control and it would not end well. No, no. He stayed with her, his hold on her arm tight and the energies still connected.
âWe must begin to move. Do not lose your control,â he assured her. He urged her up with his hold on her arm, making sure to rise with her even if his legs where shaky at best. He lead her, not wanting her focus to be on anything other than the demon.
As soon as they were truly out of the cage, he watched as her fingers curled tight, and the demon slamming down face-first into the ground. It was pinned, and uncomfortably so until there was a cracking sound, followed by hissing. Slowly, like lighting a bush on fire, the fel flames erupted from cracks that formed in the demonâs skin and spread quickly to consume the creature. Even so, it did not move. Did not make a sound. Simply burned, laying there.
Faervell waited. Waited till he was certain that the demon was burning for sure and would waste away before he pulled the connection of their energies away, keeping hold of at least a bit of his own strength. Even so, he did not wish for her to fall, quickly bracing her should that happen, or should she choose to run and leave him there.
âWe need to get moving -now-.â Already, with his hand on hers, he started to move. His legs were not steady, pained from the lacking exercise and the rare chances to do anything more than crawl across the cages.
They moved quickly, the adrenaline coursing through their veins along with the stolen energies from the lives of others. That forced sacrifice helped them reach the cover of the craggy spaces on the outer edges of the mass of land. It was freezing, but it was away from the sight of passing demons. Even when they were there, they kept moving. Kept going to stray further and further away until they were certain theyâd gained at least some time.
Faervell was breathing hard, trying to calm his racing heart, and glancing back the way they came, fearful of a mess of demons chasing after them, coming for them.
Not yet. Not yet, they had time.
He looked to Valiriel, knowing how hard it must have been considering her ribs and the strain it must have had on her own legs. âYou are still alright?â He knew, even asking, she would say she was fine.
There was a nod, but no words, her breath coming in small gasps as she tried so dearly to refrain from straining herself.
Another glance was given behind, then Faervell looked the only way that they could go. Sharp rocks, large and small, lined that side. They couldnât stop there, the fear of both the demons finding the open cage of corpses that spoke of an escape, and the packs of wild imps and hounds that would line their path to freedom. It was terrifying, and Faervell could hear the whispers of doubt that had been filling his ears. The thousand whispers that hadnât left him sinceâŚ.
Shaking his head, he refrained from thinking further on it, instead intently staring forward. He had let go of Valiriel by then, taking in deeper breaths before he said firmly, âWe have to go. We have to keep moving.â
Faervell didnât know where they would go, or how theyâd survive, but they would. He knew they would. He already started to walk, even if it was painful to do so, even if he was scared. He made sure to watch for Valiriel to follow him, actually showing that ounce of care that heâd garnered for the woman that was covered in filth and grime from that horrendous hell hole.
They would escape. He would escape.
Faervell had made a promise after all, and he would not break it.
There was no denial in that fact, giving the demons plenty freedom to buzz through his memories and thoughts. He was not let off that stone for so long that he wondered if he was going to be killed there on it. Slaughtered like some beast, left to turn into nothing but ash. The fact chilled him to the bone, despite the burning pains inflicted upon him that had sunken deep under his skin.
The inquisitors would come, pluck at his memories and thoughts like they were threads pulled from a cloth. Each line revealed all they wanted and he was powerless to resist any longer. He knew better than to do that. If he let them have it, he would not be punished as harshly. They would leave sooner. He had tried to direct his thoughts to older things. To when he was not a part of the guard or to when he was without the defenses heâd learned in recent times. No, he at least could try and fool the demons away from that, even if he could not keep them from his mind all together.
Eventually, the endless time on the stone would end. He didnât know where he would go, but at this point, he didnât care. He wanted anywhere other than the damned stone. The rough ground made him tense, and he wished that his legs would work so that he might walk behind the cursed creature that found dragging the prisoners was the best form of transport. Eventually, though, it would end with the rough grab.
Faervell and multiple others were tossed carelessly into a cold cage, landing atop one another and causing some to dig into injuries. One unlucky man even lost his life with a sharp crack. A bad landing indeed. The felmancer was quick to pull himself away, quick to tuck himself against the bars of the cage, keeping from shivering as his raw back touched against the metal.
Before he realized, there was an odd vibration to the bars and he immediately lifted his head. He thought, briefly, that it was the demon coming back to him. As if perhaps it had made a mistake and wanted him back. The fear welled up in him until he heard the familiar voice.
âYouâre alive.â
He turned his face abruptly to look at the woman, her messy appearance a welcome sight. Immediately, there was some form of relief that she was there. He was glad, at least for that, if not a bit cautious. He tried to wet his cracked and broken lips, finding no relief to his predicament before he spoke in a voice scratched raw from screaming and pleading. âYouâre here?â
She gave only a nod in reply at first before catching herself and responding proper. âUnfortunately. Iâd take being cold over being crammed in an overstuffed cage though, if forced to pick. SoâŚthatâs something, at least.â
Faervell stayed curled up in his own manner as well, nursing the new wounds and staring at her with wide eyes. He wasnât sure if she really was who he believed, the more he sat here. Doubt couldnât help but creep up. The visions that plagued him, the way the demons plucked at his thoughts. Was it simply a memory that he was seeing? Was this just a demonâs work?
He took in short breaths, swallowing down the panic that was rising, then asked, "How long? Do you know how long we've been here?"
Valiriel looked outside the cage briefly then to him with a frown. âI have no idea. It feels like an eternity has gone by.â She took a deep breath. He could hear the rattle that sounded from deep within her chest that fell silent as she returned to soft breaths. âAre you going to be okay?â
He needed to know. He needed to make sure that this wasnât just some vision or madness that had creeped into his mind.
Immediately, his good hand reached out and took hold of the side of her head. He pressed his mind to hers, turning around the swirling thoughts and looking from a simple point. He was viewing her thoughts and feelings, and all he saw was the mirroring of his own mind. Swirling feelings of torment and fear that guided her mistrust. Her fear was suffocating, and he nearly drew back at that alone.
He didnât have to draw back, because he felt her fingers grasping desperately at his hand, the nails digging into his skin as she pried him away from her. He snapped back to reality, seeing the same wide and wild eyes that he gave to her. At first, he saw the movement of her hand and prepared to be hit. Instead, she simply kept it there, a small simple gesture to âstopâ before she spoke, âDo not.â
Faervell  swallowed down, then spoke quietly, âI thought you were one.â Sheâd surely understand that.
Valiriel understood, certainly, and she showed it with a short nod in reply. Her gaze stuck to him, mildly cautious as she sat straight once more. The wild look in her eyes had weakened and she regarded him then only with an expression of vague unsettlement. "What did they do to you?"
He tucked himself in a manner that seemed closed off more than anything, frowning more and shaking his head a bit. "They...."
He couldn't even seem to form the words. What could you say to it? The words of having your mind prodded and poked like some kind of insect of curiosity. The searing pain when you failed to give answers, or worse yet fought against their attempts to read through your mind. Being left for fel hounds to nip at you or imps with the intent only to mock and cause you to writhe on stones that made everything feel like death?
She'd understand...surelyâŚ.Did he have to tell her? He just looked at her with that pain in his eyes.
"Best left unsaid, then,â she said with a certain tone that registered to him as her understanding.
He waited a moment, then said harshly, suddenly frantic, "We have to get out. We have to escape."
Valiriel gave pause and looked back at him, that soft rattle sounding in her chest again as she drew a slightly deeper breath. "That much is obvious,â she returned. "The question is how."
His brows came together, âWe can try and control one of the demons...one of the lesser ones that do not need as much to dominate.â Such could work if they pooled their magics properly.
She gave a frown. "Worth a try." She eyed a few distant demons from the corner of her vision. "It won't last for long. Perhaps enough to open the door. But if we're quick and build enough cover, that might be all we'll need anyway."
Faervell followed her gaze, then let out a breath. "PerhapsâŚ. But gods, they have drained meâŚ. They have.... Have they to you as well?" He looked to her, a little less hope in his eyes. How could they control a demon in a broken state, after all?
Valiriel clenched her jaw and furrowed her brow. "They did." She gave a short nod. "They keep us starved and thirsty. Even with all the time in the world, we'd never have the means to pick ourselves back up. Not like thisâŚ."
He let out a longer breath, the exhaustion of those first few days heavy on him. He was tired, and this talk of their hopeless conditions made him all the more weary. He closed his eyes for a brief few moments, then shook his head.
Faervell hadnât realized heâd fallen asleep, nor how long it had been before Valiriel was shaking him again. Seemingly, it had not been for long as she tried to ask him something of how to get out. How to recuperate their lost energy. What should he have told her, honestly?
âFind food and water to steal away. SleepâŚ. Perhaps siphon energies.â That was something he know he could doâŚsomething that might help.
He was so tired then, his eyes falling so easily, and his body heavy and weak to push against it. His thoughts strayed for a moment, a silent appreciation for the fates that brought him back with that woman in that hell with him. While he would far rather be anywhere but there, he was at least thankful for her presence. It was an odd sort of comfort, a fleeting moment in the endless time in that hell.
He heard her speak again, felt her hand against him again as if to rouse him, but he could not will himself to wake once more.
At least, that was what everyone kept telling her. âSafe. Valiriel, youâre safe.â They repeated it over and over until it made her feel sick.
She clung to them. Raw, bloodied fingers clutched and grasped on to any hand that was offered to her. Faervellâs hand brought the sensation of companionship, of a fledgling friendship that had taken root in the hollowed out crevice that Daznook had left the both of them. Together, they had so much blood on their hands. Esmeâs grasp made her feel sturdy, helped strengthen her to take a handful of steps together. It was all rather fleeting, though. And Elleynahâs touch dissolved the pain that bloomed wildly in her side, that throbbed in her left knee and made her toes prickle and burn. But none quieted the storm of worry that still roared in her head.
This was real. That much was true. That much was what they had agonized over and convinced Faervell of after an arduous exchange. What she wasnât completely convinced of, what she still found herself so worried about was the matter concerning her own husband. âI was told he was looking for me. Where is he?â She asked anyone who passed her cot, reaching for them and searching for answers but finding nothing more than a command to rest and a promise that word had been sent.
 The cot was rough and bit into her back. A far cry from the luxurious mattress she had to herself at home but certainly it was better than the cold, jagged floor that she had slept on for nearly a month. There was warmth. There was food. There was water. And there was a sting at the corner of her eyes, tears welling up as she pressed her cheek to the pillow beneath her head. She was truly afraid to close her eyes for too long. If she shut them just a second too long, sheâd lull herself to sleep and if she slept⌠If she slept, what would she do if she didnât wake up here again? What would she do if she opened her eyes and found herself feet away from Faervell curled up against iron bars, shivering and trying to disappear in the corner of the cage once more?
 It was almost too much.
 Valiriel cried. And she cried silently. The best part about having a pillow again was being able to bury her tears and muffle her sobs into the linen where they would dampen the cushion entirely but would also allow the world to turn a blind eye to her weakness. She cried until the rattle in her chest begged her to stop, until the strain of taking a deeper breath caused her to go from sobbing to coughing and choking on her own saliva. Her hands shook, her knees quaked and she poured her agony into the comfort of her borrowed pillow while the shifting tides rocked her to and fro aboard the ship.
 Exhaustion was the only thing that saw her finally drift off but sleep ultimately betrayed her. The rough bed became the searing rock she had been spread across, the blankets draped across her became the shackles and weighed her down. Even the rocking of the moored boat became the queasiness and dizzying sensation of the prison world. Her torture began anew beneath the weight of her dreams. Demons poked and prodded at her. Fel beasts nipped and gnawed at her feet, their extra prehensile maws snapping at her further as imps stomped on her shoulders and pulled out fistfuls of her hair. They yanked until her scalp bled, until her shoulders blossomed in bruises and until her legs were cut up and bleeding across the bright runes that sizzled beneath her. The stench of sulfur assaulted her senses, the haze of the fel polluted world burning at her eyes while demonic voices taunted and sneered at her.
 âDaznook has you.â
 They sang to her, chittering and chuckling with each repetition until it drove her mad. Until it made her scream, until her throat grew raw and her voice turned hoarse and cracked from the strain. Her torment fell silent, stifled by her demonic keepers.
Impish hands pinched and plucked at her flesh, trying to claw off the freckles and moles scattered there. Another pair pet down her hair, slicking it back and thumbing her brow. She fought through her terrified hesitance to open her eyes once more, so sure that sheâd see the churning expanse of the Twisting Nether above her. Instead, she saw wood.
 âIâm so sorry.â The apology came to her carried on an uneven voice, on a deep and troubled tone. It was joined by hands, tentative and lightly calloused stroking at her brow. âIâm here.â He told her⌠No, he promised her.
She is safe, he swears this on his life.Â
@pyrar @jessipalooza and @stormandozone for mentions!
