Oh, its you

Description:

Lillian

    Summer-sky to Green
  • Queen
  • Played By: dergon

    District Queen
    Askavi Terreille
    37 Posts    485 marks
Oh, its you
« on: December 03, 2019, 04:29:43 AM »

It had been a strange awakening. The world had tilted and changed in the night, only to be discovered in the morning. Rumors rushing in of shattered windows and smoking debris. Rumors that took longer to reach them before. The world reduced to the swiftness of Eyrien wings with the Winds gone.

A curious morning indeed.

But that had been many mornings ago; when the blood had still run heavy from her body and Lillian had been able to do little more than fret, and be fretted over. Too riling to male tempers to soothe them. Too goaded by pain to be much help to her friend. Lillian had still tried. Wafting between bed and Ilithian's side like a storm tossed leaf.

She made extensive notes of every rumor that made it to the Eyrie. A map of events. And she worried. Worried especially about a place and people that weren't exactly hers. "Still nothing?" She asked across her borrowed desk every day. This day, the end of a pen wobbling between her teeth. Still nothing. And her Green too shallow to reach so far.

And Lillian too afraid to try. She and Peitar had not parted on good terms.

With a sigh she leaned back in her seat, crushing her wings between her body and the chair. The weight was almost a comfort. Pinned in place, just like she was. With all the mayhem running about Askavi, Lillian didn't dare ask her friend to spare an escort too see her to a place she most likely wasn't welcome. Ink blotting the paper as she lost herself in the spiral of useless worry and half concocted plans she was startled by the interruption to them.

"You!" Lillian stood with the accusation. Pen rolling away as her hands crept up her chest to cover her spreading smile. Heels to lips and fingertips to cheeks, she grinned despite her rough welcome. Eyes sweeping from warrior to dog and back again. "How did you get here?" She asked, dropping her hands for Helen to sniff.



Peitar

    Opal to Sapphire
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    The Blind Prince
    Askavi Terreille
    58 Posts    645 marks
Re: Oh, its you
« Reply #1 on: December 06, 2019, 08:16:01 PM »
Blind. Peitar had a century of experience at being just that. At least, he had thought as much. It was the absence of sight. People recognized by the way they smelled, or breathed, or the sound of their voice instead of their smile. Weather judged by the humidity on the wind and sunshine on his face. Danger a tingle under his skin rather than a warning at the edge of his vision. He had thought he was blind.

Then ten tons of snow buried him alive.

They were on a camping trip. Three men that were using the pursuit of fresh meat as an excuse to sit around an open fire, drink moonshine, and bitch about the poor selection of attractive women in the village. Not long after they fell asleep an unusual sound woke Peitar up from his drunken slumber. A sound he could only describe as a mountain sighing. A sad whisper that slid down her spine towards them. Towards the village tucked into her side.

Before his brain could piece together what was happening the avalanche filled the valley. Snow twenty feet thick in some places. Only twelve or so in the spot where he lay trapped with Dog for eighteen hours. That was when he learned true blindness. No light to warm his face. No air on his skin. No scent on the wind. An absolute stifling of every sense he possessed. All consuming and unforgiving he lay there fueling a warming spell that kept him, and Dog, alive but not actually warm. Eighteen. Hours. Cold piercing down so deep he wasn’t sure he would ever stop feeling numb. Shields creaking under the pressure as every second wore on. He probed towards the surface to figure out which way it was. To figure out if it was safe to blow a hole to free himself. Even once he had figured a path out he had to judge how deep to dig into his Sapphire to keep from burning it all off too fast.

When he had finally clawed his way up to fresh air, pulling Dog up with him by wedging her between his knees he tried to find the men he had been traveling with. He only found one body, deep below the surface, too deep to justify retrieving when there could be survivors in the village. Dog warmed up quickly and he asked her to lead him towards home before his own fingers had their feeling back. A home that had never much felt like home quite as keenly as it did now that he was reading the damage done. His probes spelled out a grim picture of the tent city that compromised the bulk of his district. The snow had rolled in on them during the night. There were losses, good fighters that Peitar would count later. If the numbness ever left his soul.

Make shift tents were thrown up in a meadow outside of the village. A grassy knoll where deer came out to graze and wild rams peppered the landscape. It was supposed to be one of Lillian’s crop fields. But Lillian was gone and she hadn’t come back. Even when the world had turned upside down. So Peitar had trudged on, reverting to a familiar way of life. Upset, loss, death, struggling to reach the next day. Like war, except they had the luxury of time now. Time that they spent entirely too much of probing the snow packs for survivors. Peitar especially. Sleepless for days as he walked over the crisp surface that was heavily at odds with the spring sunshine on his back. No matter how much he probed and paced and paced and probed his brother never answer, though. And his people needed a healer to set broken bones and save frostbitten digits.

On the sixth day he gave up, pulled his dog under his arm and had an escort of small boys guide his flight to Ligure. He expected to deal with Ilithian directly, but she was a woman on fire rushing between bigger issues. Threats from Dhemlan, which had turned into a proper madhouse, pleas from a dozen towns and districts he had never even heard of piling up on her desk. Peitar figured there would be a triage process, and so he wandered aimlessly to wait his turn. Too numb still to realize his feet were being subtly led by a tug on his subconscious and the gentle shoulder of his faithful hound.

“Yeah, me.” He said gruffly when an open doorway squeaked at him from inside. Feeling his way in with a flat palm he sighed. There was something twice as pressing about being in this place, full of bustling life and fragrant queens. Something that made his numbness feel more like an aching tooth. “Flew.” He told her dryly, spreading bruised wings in evidence. “I thought my place was a mess. This is a damn circus.” He thought so at least. Sounded an awful lot like the only one he had ever been close enough to hear.

"Looks like you lot didn't get much of the shake up, though. Too close to the source for the shockwaves to be bad." He was glad. That was one less mess to clean. "Lori around?" Technically Peitar wasn't in his province but he thought the whole fistfight incident had earned him a half-favor. A few healers would do.

Lillian

    Summer-sky to Green
  • Queen
  • Played By: dergon

    District Queen
    Askavi Terreille
    37 Posts    485 marks
Re: Oh, its you
« Reply #2 on: December 07, 2019, 07:41:54 AM »

He was clothed, at least, if raggedly. Helen's wet tongue dragged over her knuckles just before Lillian tucked her finger tips under the dog's chin for a scratch. Fur soft, warm and comforting. "Oh." She breathed,  eyeing the expanse of wing he spread in her borrowed office, walls vanishing behind their battered sails. He looked terrible.

Lillian's pen rolled from the desk to her chair, pinging softly against the wood before continuing its descent to the floor.

"Why?" Not that dozens of others hadn't come. Fingers switching from chin to ears, Lillian swayed between Helen and her desk, somehow coming around the corner of one, and leaning against the other. Edging closer to the warlord prince she'd run from. The rest of her worried questions cut off by his own. Rolling an ear in her palm, she nodded. Then remembered he couldn't see.

"Of course. He arrived the second day after... whatever happened." The warlord had stuck to Ilithian's side like a burr ever since. Lillian twitched her skirt away from the other corner of her desk. Somehow the wood had become rough and splintered along that edge, and always snagged on her dresses when she passed it.

"Is everything alright in, um," her lips rolled together, words pressed until she could find the right one. Theirs? His? Hers? "The district?" It had not been a proper village, not really. And she hadn't tried hard enough to accomplish proper housing before she'd left. Hardly tried anything at all for all the fear rolling around in her stomach. The land had been easy, since Peitar hadn't fought her on that. Building had been a trickier subject.

Though not half so bad as raiding.

Peitar

    Opal to Sapphire
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    The Blind Prince
    Askavi Terreille
    58 Posts    645 marks
Re: Oh, its you
« Reply #3 on: December 10, 2019, 10:19:27 AM »
Peitar listened to the way her breath hung on her breathless answer, suspending it like a gleam of light in his sightless world while he used other senses to make sense of it all. It told him were she stood- near or far, and how she stood- huddled over, relaxed, or stiff and straight. He wasn’t the sort of man that reflected on how rich his sense of other people had become once he had lost his ability to look them in the eye. But it had, and his wings spread reflexively wider, to be more impressive, as that one word he put a picture together in his mind. The tapered tips of each wing threatened to quiver with the strain. Tired from hours of flight after hours of worry after hours of work. A fleeting thought drifted through his head, that if he let them spread big enough, long enough, they might catch the whisper in their dark sails. He didn’t know, though, if that would be soothing or upsetting so he pushed the thought away.

Thankfully something small and light picked precisely that moment to clatter its way towards the floor. In a series of clicks and ticks against hard, wood furniture he tracked the distraction with his ears and a probe. Always eager for a challenge he snatched the whatever-it-was out of the air a few inches from the worn stone floor. He called it to his hand. Long calloused fingers examining the shape and staining themselves in sticky ink before he realized what he held. While they talked he scrapped the pointed end against the thick skin on his thumb pad. Peitar didn’t think it really needed explaining, but he explained anyway. His tone short and offended because he suspected she only asked since it was him. ”Same as most of these other clowns. Here to ask for stuff, report in on my slice of Askavi, find out how the rest of the world held up.”

Two of those three tasks had proven mostly impossible to do. There was a line of people asking for stuff, and he didn’t really have the time to wait for his turn. In fact, there were so many people asking for stuff that there was no one to listen to him report in. Everyone was ready to spread rumors and tell stories though. Word had it that Dhemlan was leaderless and in shreds, that most of Askavi was the epicenter but least physically touched by the actual event but territories across both realms were reeling from side effects. ”Of course he did.” Lorivar usually had his shit together. If there hadn’t been much damage to his province then he wouldn’t have much reason to sit on his hands there when he could be in the thick of things here. ”Any idea where he’s at right now? Owes me a favor.”

Dog’s tail drummed frantically against his leg. She was standing, and most likely slobbering on Lillian since her nose was pointed in the same direction the queen’s voice drifted at him from. His weight shifted, and so did her hips. Like two magnets held apart by a sheet of wood. Move one, the other followed. Especially after the trauma of being buried with him. They were rarely separated to begin with, but neither were willing to be parted now. A constant comfort to one another in uncertain times. She made a sad sound and shifted again as Lillian tiptoed around words. Sympathetic to the queen’s emotions. Emotions that were lost on Peitar who could only guess at what the hesitation in her voice meant without the expression on her face to weigh it against. What had she been on the verge of calling his home? Hers, even though she didn’t want to be there? His, except she was supposed to be curating the land?

”No.” He said flatly. He hadn’t had to say it out loud yet. Those affected knew what had happened. Knew the toll and damage. Dog must have felt the sense of dread that roared up into his stomach because she whined and sat on his foot. Tail going quiet as she put her flank to his shin and rested her ear to his kneecap. ”Snow came down the mountains. We dug out most of the survivors I think, but people are still really busted up.” In the war loss had felt different. The places that burned had always only been temporary. Relationships all short lived as soldiers moved from one camp to another. Or never left the battlefield. Death was the price of freedom. One that Peitar had thought he would pay along with the rest. A brother laid on a funeral pyre was a shallow wound when you thought you would be next. Lost on the tangent Peitar stabbed himself too hard with the point of the pen. He held it out to her with his other hand and pressed his bleeding thumb against the woolen jacket he wore over a dense cotton shirt. ”That’s about my luck. Never was any good with a pen. No use for them in war, and no use learning to read or write once I was blind.”

Lillian

    Summer-sky to Green
  • Queen
  • Played By: dergon

    District Queen
    Askavi Terreille
    37 Posts    485 marks
Re: Oh, its you
« Reply #4 on: December 11, 2019, 04:10:38 AM »

"Of course." Little reason else for him to come. Lillian's shoulders rode high on her neck, bunching her hair around her ears. Her wings remained quiet down her back. Never having so much as twitched in response to Peitar's great cloak. They would not open in answer to his posturing, or whatever it was that had made the warrior's wings strain against the confines of the room.

The rest of her did. The hand not occupied with Helen pinching at the fabric of her dress when he stretched. Flattening across her stomach when he called her pen from its free fall to his hand. Lillian watched him roll the barrel in his fingers, staining them. Easier that than meeting his eyes, even if they were blind. He expressed his disdain well enough.

"Wherever Ilithian is." Lillian shrugged one shoulder, both of them slowly easing back down to a more natural, relaxed, position. With Lorivar present Lillian worried less and more about her friend. The subject of her fears merely shifting from the practical to the romantic. "And she has been busy trying to be everywhere." She was like a swarm of bees all on her own, their queen.

Scooping Helen's jaw in her palm, Lillian waited for Peitar's answer. It was swiftly and curtly given, leaving her thankful for the warm softness in her hand. Hound and master both sagging dejectedly in the doorway as the topic settled into the real cause for his visit. Lifting her chin, Lillian looked at him, noting the tightness around his eyes and the exhausted way the muscles at his shoulders fluttered. "Oh no." He looked as she imagined most of the others did. Worn thin with the sort of work that was tragic rather than fulfilling.

All while she'd been hiding beneath the shadow of Ilithian's wings like a little bird too afraid to leave the nest. Her skirts settled over paws and boot tips. Sympathetic gravity drawing her closer. Tongue tisking against her teeth as he pierced the callous of his thumb with her pen. The smell of metal and power just barely muted by his jacket. "Let me see it." Lillian offered, drawing his hand away and brushing her own power across the wound. Small enough that even she could feel skillful in its tending.

A slow, hard won measure ability won in the long hours of the night. When Lillian couldn't sleep and neither could the wounded. Her queen's gift kept them calm while she learned. Craft slowly restored and honed after the furious onslaught of a too long put off moon time. Peitar's skin grew whole again. Bones and tendons like stone and steel where she held him.

"I can help you get the supplies you need. And take your report. I end up with copies of most of them anyway." She explained, releasing his hand back into his care and patting Helen's head.

Peitar

    Opal to Sapphire
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    The Blind Prince
    Askavi Terreille
    58 Posts    645 marks
Re: Oh, its you
« Reply #5 on: January 13, 2020, 11:19:25 AM »

"Business as usual then." Peitar said in a low, clipped drawl. He couldn’t grudge Lorivar his queen, or the queen her responsibilities. No matter how inconvenient both were proving to be to his needs in that moment. As a boy he had thought the entire notion of romance a bit of fiction- and the dire warnings of a queen’s influence an exaggeration. Even with Witch as proof, he simply  couldn't understand the draw of women. Then after he had figured out what made them so desirable he had held onto a rather stubborn belief that love and bonds of service were the trappings of weak willed men, not inexplicable captivation or pointedly wielded power. And while he had never been outright proven wrong, Peitar couldn’t deny that the company of a genial woman- queen or not- made laughter roll easier from his lips and mischief more entertaining. ”Guess that means they’ve figured things out between them. Idiots.”

He would probably never let any of them live down their misguided assumption about his relationship with Ilithian. It would be as good a laugh in five hundred years, though he didn't have any laughter in him today. Not once in his life had Peitar longed for a woman all to himself. There was nothing wrong with sharing the work. He was the sort of man that preferred to take what was needed and leave the complicated bits out of it. Attachment had been dangerous to the heart in the war and Peitar didn't know how or desire a way to untangle himself from the trials that had created him. Besides, he was bad at love. Even before he was blind he had been too blind to romance to notice the small intricacies that made a relationship more than a friendship. The rules were too complicated.  Boundaries too  blurry. Spirit too wild for taming. All of which had landed him in hot water with a few women that had formed fantasies he fell far short of.  Lillian was standing there in distant sympathy as proof that his social skills had done no improving since the war's end.

It was a different, sharper sort of mess that had brought him to the Queens' nest though. Naturally the conversation wore towards that point. A subject he struggled to articulate for someone that still felt like an outsider to the way his band of merry raiders lived. No one would mourn them, Peitar knew. And it inclined him to wonder if his own death would be a tragedy or cause of celebration. But that probably didn't matter. The world had been saying he was one breath away from death for centuries. From war fodder to raid leader, death had overlooked him while taking the people around him instead.

The pain was old and almost comforting in its familiarity. A fresh reminder that the impact of what Dhemlan had allowed to happen, and what they still did by attempting to occupy Askavi, went beyond the life of Witch. He would fight them until he was the last man standing, and then, maybe, mercifully, he would finally get to die fighting. At least one of his brother’s had died peacefully in his bed, he realized sadly. Dog leaned her weight to him as if she could hold him up. Peitar let her sit for half a breath before he shook her off. Fitted trousers tugged at his thigh by his free hand. Until he needed the free hand to give back her pen. Agitation condensing down to another familiar, and comforting old emotion- anger.

”It’s fine.” He snapped, wagging the pen at her more insistently. He had survived worse than a scratched thumb. Even if he had done nothing to prevent the opposite. Headlong into every raid because anger was easy. It added weight to his already heavy caste, weight he could throw around like a shield. But it was too heavy to shoulder today. It seeped right out of his toes, which curled in his boots. Body unflinching but stiff at her touch. He didn’t argue or fight. There was no harm in letting her look. Not enough blood exposed for anything nefarious, if he had even thought her capable of such. To his mild surprise the cut knit back together under her attention. A sweet, snappy feeling power pressing into it until the wound was gone. He almost, almost wished that every hurt was so easily mended.

Voice gruffer than he expected he thanked her, clearing the gravel that had collected at the back of his mouth with a small cough. He wrapped the fingers she let go of around his own neck. Adam’s apple stroking his palm as he cupped the same elbow in the opposite hand. He found the vibration of his own talking soothing when he was trying to hold himself together. And he was trying, wings pulled in tight and stance shifting. ”Okay.” Now he didn’t know where to start. ”Whenever you’re ready.”

The supplies were few, but important. Tents to keep his people out of the weather. Bandages and medical basics to tend wounds. The snow had been filled with debris as it tumbled onto the village. Those buried the longest suffered frostbite on their fingers and toes. He listed it out for her. The scratch of her pen timing each addition. ”Not much to report beyond what I’ve said. There was an avalanche. Half the valley is covered. Took a day to get out, so it was that long before we could start pulling out the survivors. I think we’ve found them all. It’s been a week...” How long could an unfed Green keep a body alive in packed snow? He thought Lillian might be able to judge. Since she could heal shit now, and wore the same. He didn’t think that he would have made it seven days, though. ”We’ll need help retrieving bodies later. I can name the dead, if you want to make a list for any relatives that might come asking.”

Lillian

    Summer-sky to Green
  • Queen
  • Played By: dergon

    District Queen
    Askavi Terreille
    37 Posts    485 marks
Re: Oh, its you
« Reply #6 on: January 21, 2020, 05:17:30 AM »


Lillian hummed agreement, unsure if Peitar meant the pairs proximity, or Ilithian's constant of motion. But in the end, it did not matter, as both were equally possible and true. Though the statement he tacked on caused color to spread across the rounds of her cheeks. Heat warming her lower lashes, because she probably fell in the idiot lot as well. "Something like." She mumbled.

Lillian was far less sure about all that. But it was a curious dance to watch anyway.

Emotion impregnated the dwindling space between them. Peitar seemed to stew, and Lillian was not yet ready to breach the well of his thoughts. Even with his wings relaxed, no longer displayed to show off the hard, scarred work they had done that day, he still took up too much space. His caste like growing pool of stagnant water at their feet. Her craft rose to answer it. Something gentler and soothing to lap at his sharp edges.

"It's not fine, it's bleeding." She argued, plucking the waving pen from his hand. And then plucking up his hand too. They made a pretty triangle, Lillian, Peitar, and the hound. Albeit, an uncomfortable on that quickly separated. "You're welcome." Lillian told him pertly, a long strand of hair looped around her fingers, and then her ears, as she watched him strangle himself. Mended hand to throat. Elbow to palm. He looked ready to roughly escort himself out the door. His wings even tucked in to fit.

"Alright." A word put to the nod he couldn't see. Calling her pen back in, Lillian put distance between them again. Perching once more in her chair, she pulled fresh paper in front of herself, scrawling the districts name across the top and beginning the list with Supplies. "Begin." A single word that held a catastrophe's worth of patience. How many times had she said it? How many times had she listed the same supplies over and again for the various leaders and loners that had come begging?

It put into perspective how very unprepared and under supplied their people were, and it made Lillian heart sick.

"It has, hadn't it?" It seemed both longer and shorter than that. Blotting a drop of ink from the edge of the list, Lillian slumped in her seat, shoulders rising toward her cheeks as she leaned into the desk top. A moment to despair in company that could not see it, before she picked another piece of paper up and nodded. "Go ahead." Too many names. Tents did not hold up well against avalanches, it seemed.

All the more reason for the homes she'd been pushing for. Clay brick and wood would have stood up better against the weight. But Lillian did not dredge up the point. Not now when so many were dead and she'd run away from them. "I'm so sorry Peitar." The names would be posted with the others. A stack of such lists piled on one corner of her desk. She added Peitar's dead to the many and rose from her chair abruptly. The need to do propelling her upward.

"Come on. It'll go quicker if I take you for supplies myself." Peitar wasn't half so fearsome as the healers, and Lillian knew her way around the supply closet now. "Have you eaten?" She asked, folding her wing down her side so that they could walk together without becoming entangled.

Peitar

    Opal to Sapphire
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    The Blind Prince
    Askavi Terreille
    58 Posts    645 marks
Re: Oh, its you
« Reply #7 on: January 26, 2020, 06:16:38 PM »
Smooth bottomed shoes whispered on worn stone. Hair that he imagined as long and dark scented the air with a queen’s potency, and a woman’s allure. He didn’t need probes to know that she was moving away from him. But he used them anyway. Measuring the room, which seemed to open up around him as Lillian rounded the desk. Space to breathe without breathing so much… Lillian. Thumb fidgeting against his pulse he filled his lungs and let it out slowly. Dog laid herself on the floor, warm body splayed across his feet. Head pointed towards the desk, which she could see the other pair of feet she wanted to lay on beneath. Her tail thumped softly as it wrapped around towards Peitar’s left ankle. Sound muffled by the cracked leather that was strapped in place by dirty boot laces so long they wrapped around three times before knotting.

The near awkwardness filling the room was cut short by the prompt to start. A task he found relief in focusing on. The paltry items that would keep his people from scattering to the four corners of Askavi. All they needed were a few weeks to recover, then they could return to raiding, the surest and fastest way to keep themselves surviving.   First they had to clean themselves up, and inter the dead back to Mother Night’s care. ”It has.” He agreed under his breath. Did it seem like less or more to Lillian? Reflex had him eager to condemn, to assume that it had been a week of relaying lists exactly like this while she sat secure and untouched by the shock and tragedy. But he could feel the swirl of emotion on her surface. Probes that pretended only to trace the room and spill into the hallway testing and tasting everything as they worked. He knew that the lists were not just lists to any of them.

He read his off more carefully than he had the request for supplies. Names given to the space between them in a low tone. His face twitched between smirks brought on by the memories the names stirred, and hard lipped smiles that covered the quiver of his lip as he let each sink into the role of being only a memory from then on. A thousand snippets of conversation past flitting through his head. Very few faces could swim in his mind, most met only after the war, but he knew them all by the sound of their walk and their laugh, the flavor of their caste, or the smell of their skin. No smile to miss, just the sharp absence of the small things that make a person an individual. At the very end he hesitated. A syllable of his brother’s name given up, then swallowed down. No. There was no reason to put him on a list, there was no one beyond Peitar that would ask. ”That’s all we’re sure of. Someone will send an update later.”

Her sympathy held the promise of comfort- a comfort that he didn’t know how to trust. ”It is what it is. And it’ll remind people that the fight is far from over. Everyone was getting fat and complacent.” His hand left his throat to test the strength of the doorframe. Wood fitted to stone in a manner he would never understand. Simple construction, how to make wood join to wood, was all he had ever been coaxed into learning. The art of architecture was lost on him now, taking the desire to figure it out. He pressed hard fingertips to hard wood, and almost flinched as her chair squealed on the stone. Dog stood abruptly too, and the room filled up with Peitar’s probes. Buzzing, angry things that tried to track the source of their upset. ”What?” He asked when no intruder was found.

”Oh,” A call to action. Peitar knew that feeling well enough. His body ached with the exhaustion of moving because stillness felt wrong. An ache that settled down into his bones as he followed the swishing of her skirt out the door and into the corridor. ”Alright.” He had no qualms about cutting in any hypothetical lines. ”But we need someone to use the too.” Missing fingers wouldn’t bandage themselves. And Peitar was no good at sewing up his brothers anymore. Mostly because he was blind, but he was also fresh out of brothers.

”I-” Peitar’s face puckered as he stalled over the answer. ”I don’t remember. Must have, I’m not hungry.” Especially not now with another goal set in front of him. He followed Lillian so closely their arms brushed and his steps were almost in time. Dog trotted two steps ahead. Each step punctuated by the tap of her nails on the stone. She guided Peitar around others in their path with a touch of her hip to his shin. And tried to follow and lead at the same time. A thousand big brown eyed glances at Lillian reading the queen’s direction. ”Did you eat?” He decided to ask, since it seemed the polite thing to do for someone that was getting you supplies. ”Must be hectic getting anything done around here lately.”

His stomach felt turned inside out. Too tense to think about eating. And he didn’t really want to stop for her to eat either. There would be time for sleeping, eating, and fucking later. A later he would push towards blindly, with the consoling thought that once he’d had all three  he’d feel much better. ”So. Anyone important die? We haven’t gotten any news. I heard there were a lot of patrols on the border though. Dhemlan must have felt something too. This Wind thing stretching pretty far?”
 

Welcome to Witchlight

We are an AU Black Jewels RPG that is continuously expanding the world lore to truly make it our own. Come join us and play in our sandbox!

Open for over a year, we have 9 unique races, from birds to wolf-shifters. Feel free to drop into our Discord, lurk our wanted ads, and see if Witchlight is the fantasy site you should always have been looking for.

We have an RPG Rating of:

Timeline

SUMMER - AW103

The seasons will change on 4/19.

Recent Topics

Oh, its you by Peitar
[January 26, 2020, 06:16:38 PM]


Mountain Shadows by Valeska Spearfang
[December 16, 2019, 11:19:15 PM]


Wayward Seasons by Winter
[December 07, 2019, 08:14:04 AM]


Ianthe Sparrowhawke by The Darkness
[December 06, 2019, 06:46:32 PM]


Afternoon Snack by Aramis Dupuis
[November 20, 2019, 09:47:32 PM]

Chat

Guest Friendly Discord
login & choose a name, no registration required!

Wanted Spotlight

The Fellowship
Companions | Open Jewels | Kaeleer
Plaguebearers

Rumor Mill

Credits

Witchlight is loosely based upon the Black Jewels Series by Anne Bishop though it has been adapted and expanded by our members. All lore, characters, and writing belongs to the members. Site graphics & custom codes were created by the staff. A special thanks to Wolf & Katarina for all their help with the planning of Witchlight and the writing of the base lore.

Community Awards Winner