Wall of Ice

Log Info

• Title: Wall of Ice
• Emitter: Jinks
• Characters: Aryia, Jinks, Cryosanthia, Aya
• Place: Mictlan
• Time: February 18th, 2022
• Summary: <to do>

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  At a glance around W02: Mictlan  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Aryia             4'8"     110 Lb     Shadow Elf        Female    
    A heavily scarred mul with a resolved look about her.                      
Aya               4'7"     105 Lb     Shadow Elf        Female    
    Mul'niessa. Braided hair. Simple clothing.                                 
Cryosanthia       6'9"     291 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    
    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.                       
Jinks             3'4"     39 Lb      Gnome             Male      
    A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry.                                
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

A little camp has been made just outside the borders of Mictlan-proper, even further removed from the palisades delineating the nesting grounds of the clutchmothers. The great bonfire casts light through the trees and sets the towering bones of the dead wyrm into backlit shadow. The trees and brush are close here and it makes the space intimate. A few of the patrolling sith-makar were kind enough to string a tarp between the trunks to make a slanted awning and a respectable fire crackles just out from beneath.

To the south-- the direction of Wilderness Pointe-- the woods are quickly devoured by glistening shadow. Even where the branches are thin above there are no stars are moon peeking through; just a cold, black blanket of nothing.

The rather fancy gnome glitters where he squats near the fire, draped in his wine-colored traveling coat, glad that the perimeter guard were kind enough to help him setup the camp. Left to his own wilderness aptitude the whole place was liable to be a smoldering, brackish ruin before the others arrived. He has a last quick swig from his flask and licks his lips.

Enness is tethered near by, half-hidden under a heavy blanket to ward off the night's chill. The pony's onyx-studded reins look for all the world like pieces of night dotted along the length of his face and neck.

All Jinks needed now were the guests.

One liaison enters the camp unbound by the massive network of anti-teleportation magics within the city. A faded after image of a scarred mul'neissa manifests and solidifies with a little slide on mud. She takes a tumble, then falls face first into a bit of dirt. She motions out, "I let them know to come. And that sister should be good now."

She remains on the ground for now. <Handspeech>

The flickering shadows from the campire deepen in a section, and the coalesce into a silhouette before solidifying. There is not one, appearing mul'niessa, but two.

Two mul'niessa, ah hah hah!

The latter cannot recall the last time that she set foot near Mictlan... and she does not immediately do so this time. Aryia may have slipped upon arrival, but her sister does not.

Instead, she simply happens to coalesce several feet above the ground she intended to arrive upon. She drops abruptly to the dirt to land facefirst not far from Aryia.

The guests have arrived...

There is the sound of wings. Large, leathery, their size betrays them and the flier swoops down out of the sky. Cryosanthia lands in a way that oddly defies physics, nothing overt, but the angle and deceleration is unusually abrupt and yet she touched down lightly.

The white scaled sith'makar is in her full adventuring gear, mithril mail, vest, cape, gloves and her packs. Her corset is tight, showing off her lean, dancer's lines. It seems she has been doubling up on leg day, her thighs are massive and well detailed, and flow nicely into wide hips and a strong tail. She is visible as a constellation, a moving series of pale blue lights before she steps within the illumination of the bonfire.

A nod to Jinks, another to Aryia. She adjusts a headband, a new piece to her kit. In mannerisms, she's tightly wound, standing tall and moving little. Her diplomatic persona, and one that brings to mind frigid tundra, for some. "Oh..." You're already here, "... well I confess I had no idea how this was going to go."

"Coyote laughs," Jinks greets, doing his best to sound casual as the mul' arrive-- but having stood up out of his crouch and taken a step back at the second's appearance. He's dressed for adventure, too, and his studded doublet is worn beneath the fancy, oversized, and voluminous coat. He wears his usual assortment of jewelry, too, and his quivers rattle at his hip.

"I would imagine the Harpist strums flummoxed and Coyote is accepting long odds," the gnome answers Cryosanthia. His smile grows when he sees her strapped into her full and impressive kit; it's been some time. "Did you tell Xochitl that you were leaving for yet more visitors and leave her to stew in her jealousy?"

Without waiting for an answer he turns back to Aya, narrowing his onyx-black eyes subtly and offering, "Hello again, tallman. Welcome back."

Aryia takes a moment for her face to abate its color, but she couldn't help but snicker as she's joined on the ground by her sister. She rolls onto her back and wipes her face off, the mute sitting up and crossing her legs.

She blinks up at Cryosanthia, her having rarely seen the whitescale in full attire. She waves a hand in greeting, her glancing to the others as she's a bit weary of the tension present.

Aya is quick enough to spring and rise to her feet after regaining contact with the ground. She takes a moment to brush dirt from her clothing before turning her eyes to Jinks. "We meet again, and you are clothed this time."

Her head then pans to Cryosanthia. Over and then up... She is silent for several long moments before she offers, "Cryosanthia. It is good to see you."

"She's appraised. They're all on alert. Hetza is on my nest. This one is expecting to return before the hatchlings escape and imprint themselves." Cryosanthia says evenly, her gaze switching from Jinks to Aryia, to Aya, and staying on the second mul'niessa. "Xochi is pacing and hissing, this one suspects she'd take any excuse to fight."

"So... his hold on you is broken? No names or people will allow his memories to overtake yours, no compulsions lie hidden for when you are alone?" The white-scale asks, a pawn herself at times, "You have not been transformed into a vampire, or experience lost hours?"

Her head turns slightly, "this one is glad to see you, but are you safe to see?"

Jinks smiles without humor, his hand going up under his coat to rub at his chest. He looks as if he might say something but just glances at Aryia, then to Cryosanthia before stepping back a ways and leaning against a tree. The rubbing hand snakes under his doublet and produces the flask again and the bard helps himself to another drink.

Aryia takes a slow breath from her sitting spot, already knowing how harried that nest would be. And how... annoyed most are. Poor Metztli is probably worrying her gold scales off...

A shared look with Jinks, then she too slinks along the ground to change her seat along the ground to be beside him.

"I..." Aya begins a prompt answer then pauses abruptly. "I was sworn to him and no other, so that bond ended with him. Yes, I have lost hours; nearly every hour from then until now. If there is some hidden threat, I do not know of it. I know only that I am here, now, and I have no intent to harm anyone"

She then turns to eye Jinks. "Not even you."

"Lily was returned, by Seyardu. She was restored, no blemishes, no memories of what happened, and what did is not discussed in her presence. I don't want any curiosity to grow regarding." Cryosanthia says, breathing evenly, her attention fully fixed on Aya.

"I told her Tia Aya was protecting her from the bad man, but she must run if she saw you." The white-scale's tail traverses one sweep behind her, "in the hopes that you would be freed one day. You made a tremendous sacrifice to bring her back. I would have been broken without her. Braelnoir, is still broken, because she couldn't save her. Others... there are other things broken that will not restore."

"I owe you, my thanks and my daughter and my peaceful nest. Everything. It was a sacrifice someone else should have made, but one I think only you could have gotten accepted." Steam condenses in front of her nostrils, "I was told many times not to trust you and dismissed the warnings. It seems only fair I'm slow to trust you now."

Her hand raises and Cryo gestures at Jinks, "He... he and I have an understanding. Despite this one's great anger I focus on forgiveness. I can forgive you in time, and Lily needs her aunt, but right now this one has only gratitude and wariness to offer."

"Ah... we left your sense of Justice in the Halls, then," Jinks smirks, glancing briefly at Aya and taking yet another drink. The gnome shakes the flask and frowns at the gnearly-empty tinkling the act produces. "That is to say: 'you should...' but that ship is yours to sail."

A sigh from the bard and then a reinforced smile. He's joking! The flask is finished off while the whitescale talks about sacrifice.

Aryia glances between mul and makari, her twiddling her thumbs together as the talks go on. Things were... going well? It seemed that way, at least.

Her gaze falls a bit at people being broken. She knew how that felt. Though she's brought back to focus on the present at Jinks' jesting with a twitch of her lips upward.

At the answer to a burning question not yet asked, Aya exhales a long breath. Relief, for the most part. "Thank. That she is not broken is enough. You do not owe me anything, Cryosanthia. Your trust perhaps least of all. Remain wary. For her. For them." Her pitch raises slightly at the end, in not quite a question. Unsurprisingly, much of past events is now breaking news to her.

After a moment, she spares a sidelong glance to the gnome. "It was not left. It simply happened into your pocket during your journey, by no fault of your own, of course."

Cryosanthia bobs her head slowly, still in a tall, tense posture with her motions minimized. Even the pendulum sway of her tail has too much regularity to it. Like a meditation practice, eight ticks one way, pause and reverse, intended to focus her mind. "For them." She confirms, left hand pressing on her corset, lean lines and strong legs adding to it. "We're all on edge, the new Nest-Mother's. This is a vulnerable time."

The whitescale inhales, a sigh, "I do owe you. Forgiveness, eventually. You lied to me and I said when I was ready I'd ask you for the truth. That time is not now, but I'm sure I will have to overcome some feelings. You gave yourself to save her. That's... I want to hug you and dance, you're back! You're back! But the ice wall is there."

"I can't imagine what you've been through." Another slow exhale of breath, "and I would recommend, do not seek those memories. Mikilos does not remember his time with Winter and I was happier when I did not."

"With luck, there is nothing in there we need. He is gone, his name is mud, as Cesran promised."

Jinks just shakes his head and blinks slowly, half-tossing his empty flask down to the ground and crossing his arms. The gnome watches Cryosanthia with mild frown, listening for now.

Aryia blinks at the mention of what her sister has been through. As well as the mention of memories. She twiddles her thumbs faster, though flinches as flask hits the ground beside her seat. She gives him a curious glance, a sympathetic expression, but she too just listens for now.

Words shared now were going to be raw and tense, as there was months of things unsaid needing to be, well, said. To melt the ice, so to speak.

Aya considers further questions not yet asked, albeit now from the other direction. She then looks from Cryosanthia to Aryia, Jinks, and circles back around. "You are owed the truth. What I know of it. Whenever you choose to ask." Her head dips slightly to Cryosanthia, perhaps even past her. "I do not wish to make others any more ... wary than they are, if here and now are not the time nor place."

"I don't think now is the time." Cryosanthia says, her posture relaxing somewhat. Her tail stops swaying. She glances at Jinks, then Aryia, before focusing on her former confidant. "Unless there's something you want all of us to know."

"The questions..." She exhales. Knowing the truth behind certain acts won't change them, and the white-scale contemplates the worth of the 'why'? The seeds are sown and grown. She mumbles, "maybe when the water supply isn't tainted."

Cryo looks around once more, "Yeah... what do I need to know."

"I have ten-thousand gold in platinum bars in Enness' saddles," Jinks sighs, pushing the heel of a palm into one of his eyes. "I know it doesn't make up for it but it's yours if you want it; it would cover the ground diamonds for Daechir.

"I imagine you know clerics of sufficient ability but I've my own contacts in the Harpist's flock now." The gnome spins a ring on one of his fingers, pushing it with his thumb. "... if he's a mind to come back."

Aryia gives a slight breath, her popping a little thumbs up to her sister as her gaze swings over to the mute. The Speaker's words were wise: better to know what was necessary at present, rather than shoot question into the dar-

Her head whips over to Jinks, moonlit eyes wide.

Make that two dark faces and accompanying widened eyes that are suddenly upon Jinks. Aya stares at him a long moment before- no, not a stare, per se; the look (for once?) is not harsh enough to be that.

"I-" It is always 'I.' Or was? Start. Stop. Start again.

"Thank you. He is not forgotten." By not only her, even, it appears. "Though I-" Another stop.

This time, she diverts entirely to look between Aryia and Cryosanthia. "I want you to know all that you wish to. Also..." Eyes to Aryia, "It was foolish, yet it felt ... true."

To Cryosanthia, "I do not regret my choice... but I regret all it wrought, after. To others."

"Okay." Cryo's tail curls around her ankle, and she looks confused, then contemplative. That regret could mean a lot of things, depending which choice it was attached to. The whitescale decides it was the sacrifice to save her daughter, "Well... thank you. I promised to help save you and I didn't. I..."

Had obligations.

"I'm glad it was managed and regret it took so long. And Deachir. I wasn't there for him either."

Her tail returns to metronoming back and forth. Her lips squeeze together. She looks at the gnome. "There's Merek,"

"Cesran, Cesran is a much better choice," she adds quickly, "Or, one of your Mourner contacts. There's the spooky one, and Verna.. oh."

"ARE Cesran, Verna, Serene, the others okay? The compulsions gone from their minds? Also, Jinks... there are birds in the forest, you shouldn't advertize that too loudly."

Already halfway to his pony, Jinks looks over his shoulder and ventures, "I imagine the birds would have enough sense to try robbing some bloated gobber merchants on the roads in their ostentatious pleasure wagons before coming anywhere near this camp." The blanket is tossed back and he retrieves a fine leather satchel with a grunt. Then he moves around to the other side of the animal and snags a bottle from a different pack.

There's a squeak and 'fwoonk' follow by the sounds of a cork being spit into the growth between the trees and then Jinks is on his way back. He stands next to Aya and holds the pack up with a grunt.

Aryia's stupor pulls out as Aya speaks, her looking up from her sitting position on the ground. Her scarred visage softens some, and she gives a slight nod of acknowledgement towards her sister. She already raked Aya over the coals for it, no need to do it again.

But that was new. Such regrets. And admitted so freely. She files it away for later, her looking up to Cryosanthia. She waves a hand, letting it alight her hand to grab attention as she shakes her head. "You helped. Her pin," she motions slowly. "V-E-R-N-A. Fine. C-E-S-R-A-N, I'm working on his repayment to fix him. He should be almost done. I don't know about the others." The mute uses simple gestures and signs, things she's used around the nest.

She chuckles at Jinks' observation. Someone swooping in on this camp right now would be one of the worst mistakes they've made. Still, damn, that was... quite a lot of coin.

Though, perhaps, there was never truly a price on something like that. If taken, it'd be a second chance.

She squints slightly. The last chance. <Handspeech>

Aya blinks at another morsel of news that is heavy on the new from her perspective. "Compulsions?" She does not dwell on it, however, as there is surely no shortage of happenings she's missed. Instead she turns first to Jinks, holding out a hand. Not in acceptance, palm up and open, but with hand vertical. "Thank you, but keep hold of you coin for now. I will tend to him. He could easily wish to remain where he is... and away from me." The flash of pain upon her features is a strange, novel thing to most. It also confirms that, of all the lost or muddled memories, -that- one is not among them.

Her expression freely, easily, shifts to a sneer that is far, far more familiar as she looks to Cryosanthia. "Merek and his idiocy will not step anywhere near Daechir, living or otherwise."

Perhaps some things did not change? A sign of recognizable consistancy is a good one, yes?

Aya's visage then proptly softens. "Cryo, you had your world to protect. No one can fault you for it and neither should you."

That prompts a smirk, "I'm convinced you are you, at least." Cryo nods, closing her eyes, "And thank you for your understanding. I have doubts, but I have to recognize my limits."

She looks to the gnome, "Jinks has been keeping me appraised. There was a prophesy... and a name, of a child. The Demon Duke was defeated in a contest of wills and that left some lingering impression in the minds of those that opposed him, which could rise up if that name was mentionned."

"I don't know how that played out." She summarizes.

Jinks glances from Aryia to Cryosanthia, making a quiet, amused sound when he remembers again the language barrier between mul'niessa and sith-makar. A few steps and he heaves the satchel into the ground right next to his flask, the pack clattering and glittering dully where the flap pulls back. The minstrel then walks over to the whitescale humming a few bars. A little rhyme in gnomish and he leans into the familiar swashbuckler, resting his jewel-laden fingers against her trunk for a moment.

"I tell you my dreams

and while you're listening to me

I suddenly see them

come true."

The spell cast, he walks back to where he'd been before the trip to the pony, settles to the ground, and has a swig of his bottle. <gnomish>

GAME: Jinks casts Tongues. Caster Level: 12 DC: 19

"Verna is fine. Aryia is working with Cesran. Seldan is out of the city on some errand that's playing tricks with everyone's memories. Last I spoke with Lady Tig-- Lady Serene, she was unaware of the infection and was going to seek insight." The gnome catches up Cryosanthia.

Aryia nods towards Cryosanthia, confirming that answer. "And the solution to remove that impression has been found," she gestures to allay. "His influence wanes more and more."

She purses her lips. Glances to Jinks, nods ever so faintly at the translation and magical aid coupled with a thumbs up.

She slowly gets to her feet, her stepping towards Aya to pat her on the shoulder reassuringly. <Handspeech>

<OOC> Aryia says, "sorry, I didn't really know what else to add"

Aya falls quiet as she listens to the news of others (even if some of it is non-verbal). All is not about her, afterall. Yes? No? Maybe? Most of the names are rather familiar, though one catches her attention more than the others. A brow arches. "Seldan is out of the city? Still? Again? That is both surprising and ... not.

Her net opinion on that is ...unclear, though Aryia's contact provokes a brief smile up at her sister. "Yes, I am myself," she confirms Cryosanthia's assessment. A pause follows before she adds, "but I am still ... assembling what that is."

"Okay, okay." Cryosanthia nods at Jinks' various updates, and seconds Aryia's observation, "his influence is waning, that's good. Others are recovering. I haven't seen most since the Resurrectionist's New Year's party."

Her hands twitch, clenching and releasing, "Griva hasn't contacted me. Neither has Akoniril either, so some respite from bringing back a dead God. There's a teleport ban on Alexandria... oh, you would know that." She glances over her shoulder.

"These are trivial details. This one is anxious to get back on her nest." She admits, "I, we, all of us here, are glad you are returned, and restored and this one is unendingly grateful for your sacrifice. But I... I need some more time, before this one would ask you to visit."

Jinks is flat on his rump, forearms resting on his knees with the bottle held in one hand by the neck. He reaches up and pushes his fingers back through his hair, shaking out the loose, shock-white length and then tucking it behind his ear again. "I can show her Lily and the nest, Cryosanthia. If it's alright with you..." The gnome isn't sure of the offer, worried he'll offend.

The bard has a drink and then looks up to the whitescale, wiggling his fingers. "Not the real ones; a recreation from the Weave. Something."

"NO." Cryo snaps, her frills rising and her nostrils flaring, reacting protectively before she finishes processing the offer.

"Oh." She shrinks a little, "you mean an illusion... I've been keeping a Mage's Private Sanctum up, most days."

"As long as it's an illusion, not what is happening there, right now, in case we're being observed."

Aryia returns the smile with one of her own. "And that will take time," she affirms her sister before looking to the others.

Her gaze settles on Cryo, softens, and she steps across the campsite to-

She reels. "Calm your non-existent tits, for fuck's sake," she scowls, dropping her hands to her side as she abandons the calming gesture she was going for. <Handspeech>

Aya's focus snaps to Jinks, though her "No," while emphatic, is less so, and more slow, than Cryosanthia's. After a pause to allow Cryosanthia her rightful say to the rest, she shakes her head. "Neither of us are ready." She now rises to her feet; not aggressively, but firmly. "There has been too much illusion, deception, lies." To which she has contributed a healthy share and yet, "I won't tolerate more, certainly not with her."

She then looks to Aryia. "Calm yourself, also, sister. As you said, this will take time."

Jinks simply holds up a hand in surrender and takes another long drink. He mutters something under his breath about 'the deception of paintings' but doesn't feel the point is strong enough to be made to the group as a whole. Or he's a coward. History has shown the latter to be true.

Cryo looks at Aryia, eyes dropping to watch her hands, finally nodding to Aya, repeating, "Neither of us are ready."

She glances over her shoulder, in the direction of the nesting grounds, "This one should return. Hetz will be cramping. Thank you Jinks, for arranging, Aryia, for the message. Aya... this one is glad you are restored."

She looks around the camp once more, "We'll talk soon." She rubs at her chest and her non-existent breasts in a distracted, self-conscious way as she concentrates. Wings erupt from her back and she launches up into the sky, climbing at an impossible angle and then banking over the trees.

The reflected moonlight fades from sight first, and then the twinkling of her highlight scales, then Cryosanthia is gone.

Aryia sighs, gaze going downwards some as she rubs a fist in a circle on her chest. "Sorry," she apologizes. She didn't like sudden yelling, and the last time that happened, she ran out of the room. Which felt like... so long ago.

To Jinks, her free hand motions, "I thought it was a good idea." Then a shrug as she starts to make her way towards Cryosanthia, an arm out stretched to offer a forgiving hu-

And she's jetting off. The mute silently grumbles to herself in a myriad of tongues, though the gist of 'good going dumbass' could be understood.

She stands there a moment, not really sure what to do with herself for a solid few awkward beats before she just plops down next to Jinks to properly join his camp.<Handspeech>

Aya watches Cryosanthia alight and fly off. The whitescale is in a far, far better state than when Aya last saw her, and this is comforting. Turning to Aryia and Jinks, now easily viewed at once, she considers them and the portion of the camp about them. It is not the nesting grounds, but it is still Mictlan, or near enough. Even without recent events, and with assurances and vouchers, there are still concerns. Enough that she informs, "I should depart."

Informs, rather than simply departs. Perhaps something yet remains horribly broken, afterall.

The gnome watches the whitescale go and shakes his head, standing and swaying as the spirits begin to do their work. He snags his flask and tucks it away, collects the bag of platinum and heads back towards Enness. "Whenever you want it Aya," he offers again before sliding it away. "I saw the look on the idiot's face when he pulled away from Sabina. That sort of thing doesn't break when a monster wearing you as a mask takes advatange." He pauses, facing away, and pulls the blanket back down over the saddle bags.

After a patting the pony affectionately, Jinks turns and walks past Aya again, settling near Aryia. He waves the resurrected mul' over and holds his bottle out to the mute. "We won't hut anything to sit here for a few minutes. I'll go talk to Cryo in a little bit... I'm not going back tonight."

The coyote-chasing-its-tail ring spins again on his finger, propelled by his thumb and he shakes his head. "It doesn't change anything, Aya, but I'm sorry. Really, really fucking sorry."

Aryia takes the bottle, her expression softening as she takes a swig and hands it back to him. "I'll walk with you to the nest," she offers to the man, "Then I'll go back with Aya."

She pats his shoulder in solidarity as she dips her head. <Handspeech>

It may be best that Jinks turns away after mentioning 'the idiot.' Aya knows too well the reasons behind the mentioned look, nor can she doubt the gnome about the power, the truth of belief behind it. That it brings her some joy, now; still, only amplifies the pain that rides with it.

Yes, a monster did that. That much she can agree, though too much is painfully clear and so much frustratingly not.

"Yes. I saw the love in his eyes, then, too..."

The last word fades away along with the fading wisps of shadow where she once stood.

-End Scene-