The Temperance

“You mean grasping at straws?” Freydis returned, willing to allow her walls to come down slightly around Nuvi. Vulnerability didn’t necessarily frighten Freydis, and the survival of the women taken so long ago had hinged on them willing to be vulnerable with one another, but Freydis also still struggled with the idea that she needed to live up to the reputation of Icefang, who could triumph in every battle and hold steadfast in the face of every challenge. She was unsure how much of the legend Nuvi still bought into, even if Freydis had ceded her position as jarl both happily and voluntarily. The world was much wider than the Midlands, and she knew Eda would rise to the challenge–Eda, who fulfilled the dream Freydis held at the young Iskaran girl’s age: that Freydis would be the first but not the last woman to hold power in Iskaldrik. 

“Are you that certain the next foe will wield fire as dangerously as Toth did?” Freydis asked, her head tilting to the side slightly. “Or do you have some very specific battle with a handful of elementals around the corner?” She suspected Nuvi’s temporary death on the battlefield had impacted her greatly causing a permanent wound or new fear in Nuvi’s psyche even if her physical form had been mended.

“As a professional at grasping at straws trying to figure out an answer to a question that has been long lost to the annals of times, I promise you that you are going above and beyond,” she offers, the tiniest bit of a grin showing on her lips. Their situations were different, and Nuvi hoped Freydis would find her answers much more easily than her, but they were close enough that she understood some of her worries. “Sometimes, the answer matters less than what you find out on the way to it, and you have plenty of time to get to the correct answer, anyhow.”

Or at least, so she assumed. Considering the other was the keeper to a new druidic circle, it was a safe assumption to make that she would also have a druidic lifespan. 

“Neither,” she admits after a long moment, almost uncomfortable to admit that her death at the hands of Toth would have affected her so much. She had been trying so hard to live up to her promise to protect her home, training and aiming to grow stronger, and yet she had been all but useless when it mattered most. Worse. She had been a liability. “I— I guess I am trying to go for the ‘better safe than sorry’ route. I tend to get myself in situations where I am fighting above my punching class, so— I just want to be better. Especially with Avalon still at risk.”

She has no idea whether she will be facing fire once more in the battle to save her home, but if that is the case, she will come prepared.

Right upon the a mahogany desk that did not belong to her, a Warrior had perched her ass and surrounded herself by unlabelled boxes. The room was full of them. "Surprise," she greeted, smiling as the lights turned on. If the witch noted any hint of shock or fear from the unsuspecting elve, she did not show it. Her smile only bloomed wider, morphing into a wide grin. It had been quite a few months since she had checked in on the woman that she'd once spent months with, trapped underground amongst the devils and demons, but Alessia wasn't much for smalltalk. "You like history and stuff, right?"

“Very much so yes,” she says, wondering if she hadn’t made that part of her personality noticeable enough or if that was just meant to be a joke of a sort. Regardless, she welcomes the other’s presence, as she has been meaning to catch up since their trip to Iskaldrik. “I am assuming the boxes have something to do with that question?”

The work on the rips in the Veil and the health of the arches sometimes felt endless and grueling, but it was work Freydis took the highest level of pride in. It was also made easier with the help of a potion or spell scroll from time to time. However, Nuvi’s face was not something she expected to see amongst the bottles and vials lining the shelf.  In the same moment that Nuvi exclaimed Freydis’ name, Freydis herself greeted with a warm, “Shenavun.” She allowed the Elvhen to finish, though Freydis did so love to talk–and sometimes interject upon reuniting with someone she knew. “Have I been well? What about you?” Freydis returned, knowing Nuvi would likely know exactly that the Veil Maiden was alluding to you. “You’re looking much better–you will have to tell me all about your new skincare routine,” she joked before briefly placing her hand on Nuvi’s shoulder. “It is good to see you looking… yourself again.” Though her head tilted to the side slightly, the exhaustion and anxiety within her was easily able to recognize it within Nuvi. Rather than calling it out directly, Freydis glanced around the shop. “What are you in the market for today? Perhaps I could help? I’ve been perusing these shelves longer than I care to admit this morning.”

“I doubt my current happenings hold a candle in comparison to the work you are currently doing,” she continues with an easy shrug. After all, most of the high elvhen that had volunteered to fight for Avalon are currently on hold, waiting to see what will happen next before any sort of action is taken place. The events in Iskaldrik were harrowing, but at the same time, it brings her comfort to know that killing an old God is possible. That means her home is not fully gone yet, and perhaps— Perhaps Fyren would get to return home soon without the threat of the blight looming above them.

“Mostly, I am looking for something to—,” she hesitates again and shrugs helplessly knowing that her answer would be telling for anyone who had been at the fight in Iskaldrik. “I am looking to increase my fire resistance.”

There are more battles to come, and she needs to be prepared. Marked she might be, but over and over again it has been proven that she is more a burden in the field than of any help. She would like it very much if she can manage to cover her weaknesses, so she doesn’t drag those she fights with down on their upcoming fights. 

“If Mythal is willing,” Solon repeated this with a nod, however somber his tone may seem; the pink dragon is not keen to let despair win over light and joy, but the blight is festering around them and he can witness how unsafe this is simply for Shenuvun to be standing here currently. Solon is not as concerned for himself, dragons are almost immune to the Blight, resilient against it in comparison to that of elvhen. 

“You are right,” Shenuvun admits after a long minute during which she keeps staring ahead, trying to drink in Avalon. Even corrupted as it has become, this is her home still, and she wants to burn its image into her memory. After all, it is likely that she will only return to it in the middle of combat, and by then what it was would have been erased by blood and destruction. “You are right, I know. But leaving feels wrong, despite the dangers it poses.”

She will leave, in the end, because her work is not done. But it will be painful, even knowing she will return. On moments like this, she regrets not having convinced Nintra to tell her how to cleanse the Blight’s corruption. Perhaps if she had been more convincing, perhaps if she had offered something big enough… Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, she would have achieved something beautiful. 

She can’t live in perhaps, though. Just in the grim reality of her failures. 

“I can call upon the earth and plants to both defend my allies and attack my opponent,” she explains, summarizing her skills even as she tilts her head in consideration at the other. She doesn’t see the look of insult on Talisa’s eyes, for she doesn’t know the other well enough to recognize it for what it is, but she still senses a certain challenge to her words. For a moment, she considers leaving her explanation as is, but then chooses against it. Best if they both know what the other is capable of in the field, to prevent surprises and better strategize. “I am also able to summon an earthen guardian which adds further protection to my allies, as well as some boosts in combat capabilities. Would you like me to show you? We could spar to show what we are each capable of.”

Frankly, she can only vaguely recall what the other can do, aside from turning into a dragon, so a spar would be beneficial for her as well. Yes, turning into a dragon is already pretty advantageous during combat, but Lusacan is far bigger than Talisa’s dragon form, so it is likely she will also need to fight on her mortal guise as well. 

"You think? Who will carry on the work with the Veil if you're gone?" Ikaros felt like he needed to point these things out to those who thought they could simply die for the hell of it. He knew he could not – Titania would assure that Ikaros was out of Avalon if Lusacan was ever meant to press through. The Prince had thought of himself at his mother's side – for if the Elvhen of Avalon were to fall, he would be the Prince of Nothing. Still, a crown meant little to him at this point, yet it was exactly what pushed him forward.

If it were not too late to turn down another street or cut and turn the other way entirely, Talisa might have done so. She had found her prior conversation with Nuvi vexing, belittling, and devoid of any room for nuance for either her or Fyren’s past experiences. Unfortunately, it seemed Nuvi caught sight of the Steel dragon first, and the recognition read plainly in Nuvi’s expression and approach. By the time she came within ear shot of Talisa, the juvenile dragon’s arms were crossed and her hip was cocked in an unbridled show of attitude. 

“I thought you were a researcher, not a fighter,” Talisa questioned Nuvi. It was the least confrontational thing she could manage in her already sore mood, even if she knew it was dangerously close to toeing the line of being outright argumentative.

“I am not, but circumstances have forced my hand,” she says simply, rather than going for grand explanations or more deliberate words. There is no need to be friends with the dragon, but she wants to make sure that Talisa would be willing to watch her back as Nuvi is sure to watch hers. She knows what is ahead of them, and she will do all she can to ensure her allies' survival. She only wishes the same commitment in return. “I do not wish for my home to be destroyed, and I will do all in my power so that it is not.”

Still, she wanted her time here to be worth more than simply surviving. She had never felt complete as her roots had been pulled out and attempted to be severed, she could never forget the elvhen lullabies that her mother use to sing and she almost died enough times that she knew who she'd be willing to fight for.

"I can't rest, sleep won't come and my body feels as if it's in an active warzone .. so I thought I would put the feeling to use. I can help, whatever is needed. I do better with killing than healing though."

“We will need many capable of killing in the coming days,” she admits slowly, thoughtfully, as her eyes flicker in the direction of the eluvian and back towards the faiman. “And I am sure we would welcome you along our numbers, but I must warn you that this is likely a fight to the death. Furthermore, I am not sure that you will be able to cross the eluvian, even if you want to offer your help.”

Her jest captured Solon's attention, the pink dragon turning his head to finally face Shenuvun. His expression is confused, though he understood the jestful remark it was indeed baffling, but he had come to learn from Atheron that everyone dealt with trauma in a myriad of ways, none linear to what one was supposed to reveal on the outside. "You are a strange one, Shenuvun, though I have come to appreciate that we need such oddities now more than ever," he did not mean to insult as he stated this, the compliment stemming from the dragon of dreamers was clear, despite the blank and frangible expression on his face.

“You are not the first to point that out, and if Mythal is willing, you won’t be the last,” she says, easily admitting to her own oddness without much trouble. Her own character is one she is fairly familiar with, as well as how people view her. She is an eccentric, a kook, seeking answers to a question long forgotten. It’s not skin off her back to know she is seen this way, as she is sure of her path, and she will not stray from it. “And if we are even luckier beyond that, those oddities will help us beyond that.”

If the gods are watching, if Fate ordains it, there is a possibility that they will still win. It might require sacrifice beyond their imagination, it might require suffering like no other, but if there is a light at the end of the tunnel, she is more than willing to take the burden. 

SHENUVUN "NUVI", THE TEMPERANCE

May it be an evening star Shines down upon you May it be when darkness falls Your heart will be true You walk a lonely road Oh, how far you are from home Mornië utúlië Believe and you will find your way (x)

"Shenuvun," Ikaros greets the other back, though his voice is absent of most of its tone. Avalon was going through a dark time, as the blood of the tree itself began to bleed into every Elvhen that remained within. So many left, the branches emptier than ever, yet still – so many remained. Too many High Elvhen had only known the Laurelin, and would never pass through the Moongate without fighting for their home.

Her family had headed to the Silverlands as soon as the news had spread, mostly on her insistence. Her parents were guides, so they had known the path to the Silverlands. Shenuvun had been confident that they would make it to Lórien'dal without much issue, but she had asked Harajatish to protect them to be sure. They had asked her to go with them, but she had decided against it. She had long since committed herself to see the world righted, and if she couldn’t, at the very least she could try and stop the infection from spreading. 

“My family is gone ahead, but I have chosen to stay,” she admits, with a small shrug. “I have been working all my life to try and prevent something like this. I couldn’t, so I might as well try and help stop things before they get even worse.”