Lingers in Passing

Log Info

• Title: Lingers in Passing
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Verna
• Place: Soldier's Defense
• Time: December 10th, 2021
• Summary: On another snowy day at the Soldier's Defense, Aryia is meditating, taking advantage of a lull in her newly chronic headaches. Verna is tending to the temporary morgue there, and catches up with the mute. Verna expresses concern for the Llyransei Charnites arrivals, and Aryia agrees, the former thinking they are in guise. Soon after, Verna spots, in the bright hospital, Aryia is casting a shadow where none should be. A Shadow manifests, an undead being, and delivers a message to the two. Lingers in Passing, the shade's name, informs them that their master wishes to meet with them the night after tomorrow. They slip out after Verna and Aryia reluctantly agree. The Mourner surmises that this meeting might be for the benefit of the travelers, and less so for them.

Soldier's Defense, Late Afternoon.

Light snow swirls in gusts, accumulating on the frames of windows. The sun, vibrant and present, reflects its brilliants upon the white blanket, throwing bright light into the hospital, filling the space with the feeling of it being outside without the biting chill.

A scarred mul'neissa woman is present on one of the cots. She had no headache this time around, a makai man by the name of Geir aided her to be rid of it. At present, she was sitting with her back against the wall, one knee brought up with her chin resting upon it. A black dyed blindfold rests loosely on her neck, should she need to shut the out the light if the migraines came back once more. Though, her eyes are closed, and she breathes evenly. In. Out. Visage lax. Frame lax. Meditating. To file away what has come up thus far to make room for another eventual wave.

Verna emerges from the curtained and cordoned 'Vardamen Section,' possibly referred to, in common parlance, as an acting morgue. While the overall situation has improved as of late, The Grey Harpist, and her servants, still have duties to attend.

As she passes through the treament area and its cots, the familiar fullblood is noted (blindfold or no). Her path takes her near enough that she only need make a slight detour to arrive cotside. From there, she simply takes several moments to quietly observe Aryia.

Aryia is still, save for the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Nothing else moves, nothing else twitches. Not even her eyes dart around behind their lids.

Adrift. Light above. Dark below. Tendrils of memories float on by, disturbing the calm waters as they drift off to no where. Let it be. Even if one holds a tinge of fear. Or exuberance. Slip through the fingers. But yet... where was it all...?

That thought managed to crack her tranquility, as her brows twitched downwards. A sigh leaves her, and she shakes her head, blinking her eyes open.

Then, blink blink.

Her face tinges a touch red. "Oh. Hey. How uh... long you've been standing there?" <Handspeech>

"Good day to you," Verna greets her from the downcast hood. "I arrived only a few minutes ago, and sought to discern your condition yet did not wish to disturb you. How fare you? Do the headaches remain an issue?"

Aryia lightly smiles. Readily so. "Ah. Well, uh, not right now, no. G-E-I-R helped me the other day. And after... uh... being in my 'room'-" she suppliments air quotes, "-For a long while, and after whatever happened in the Fernwood, it's been rather calm. I feel like it will creep back up eventually. It sort of comes and goes now." <Handspeech>

Verna takes a moment to doff her hood, making her subsequent not more apparent. It might also aid with her ...bedside manner. As well would no longer staring at a relaxing patient, most likely. "Calm is an improvement long overdue, I believe."

On one aspect of that mention, she expounds and offers, "Regarding the Fernwood, and the Charneth travellers present, I must express some concerns. They appeared to hold something of an interest in you, though it is possible that such was coincidental."

Aryia nods in agreement. "Yes, I think a spot of calm for all is more than welcome."

Though, that bit makes her brows pinch and her run a hand through her hair. "... what do you mean?" she asks with her spare hand. "I just thought they were being kind of a bunch of pricks for thinking I was going to be a 'loose slave' problem." <Handspeech>

Verna's lips purse. "If that was their view, then my other concerns have more founding. In my time in Charn, in residence and travel, I encountered very few llyranesi. I cannot recall a single example at present, though some might have been present at some point. Of the sildanyari in Charn, there is one far more prominent than others. There are far fewer than humans, oruchs, and various slaves, but they are the vast majority. That suggests a high probability that they are concealing their true appearance, which implies, of itself, that their motives are for ill."

She backtracks to the previous note and notes, "If they thought you might be a 'slave problem,' they would be familiar with slaves. Why would they presume you to be one, yourself?"

Aryia fidgets a bit in her cot. "... it's kind of obvious I was one," she explains, gesturing to herself. But she shakes her head and pinches her brows. Verna was right. Llyransei were rare in Charn. "... they probably are mul'neissa," she intuits, rubbing her chin. <Handspeech>

Verna nods. "That would be the most likely scenario. I did not go so far as to attempt penetrating illusory disguises, as such might be obvious to them. Admittedly, their presence may be unrelated to yours and merely coincidental, but I believe they warrant alertness, regardless."

Aryia rubs at her face. "... but if they are using disguises, why are they saying they are from Charn? That makes no sense...." she muses aloud with a hand. But she sighs, and nods. "I'll be alert then, who knows what odd things creep into this city..." <Handspeech>

GAME: Verna rolls perception: (12)+26: 38
GAME: Aryia rolls 1d20+12: (20)+12: 32 (Shadow stealth)

The mute turns to rest her feet on the floor, stretching some from sitting for so long. The room is rather bright, yet bits of shade linger in parts of the floor and undersides of things. Though, with the snow reflecting the sun, none should have a standing shadow.

The pugilist's feet cast a shadow.

Verna watches her turn to potentially rise, and her lips shift to purse and beyond to frown as something noted causes concern. "Use caution standing, as you may still be unsteady..." she notes, first; more innocuous and intended to grasp her attention.

There is a pause before she adds, in a far more ... musical manner, "You have a shadow where there should not be. If you should not cast it, it is another we do not see."<Celestial>

GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (9)+24: 33

Aryia raises a brow, her prepping herself to rise to her feet. But she stops. "I'll be fine, don't wor-" <Handspeech>

The dulcet tones make the shadow elf truly pause, her face twisting in a bit of confusion and a tinge of pain. Her lips move to mouth 'What..?' And she looks down.

Blink.

And her head starts to get the prickling of a headache once more, the elf rubbing the side of her head like so many times before.

The temperature drops several degrees despite the blaring hearth keeping the hospital well warm. Shade starts to drip from Aryia like so many time befo- no. Not from her. From her shadow. It spreads somewhat along the floor, inconspicuous. Two small tiny sections of the shade part like little slits to expose the floor underneath.

Like crinkling glass warping from frigid air, a voice whispers. "... peace."

Verna observes Aryia's shadow intently, now. As it grows... alters ... blinks(?) and then finally speaks(?). "Alternatively, it may not be cast, in the traditional manner, at all. Still, it appears that we are not alone." <Celestial>

Shadowlike or shade creatures are certainly not unknown, and not so to Verna. Most, however, are some manner of undead and accordingly mindless or otherwise inclined to assault the living, by their nature.

This makes its actions rather unusual. "Peace in what?" she inquires in return, quietly. There is no need to make a spectacle of conversation with the floor.

Aryia's eyes widen as her shadow spreads out and takes shape, her yanking her feet up onto the cot. That seemed to take with it most of the shade's form, yet it latches onto the space where the wall meets the floor. The two slits in it move between Mourner and pugilist, as if looking and inspecting.

Verna could easily tell, from her vast knowledge of study, this was a Shadow. Though a... very docile one, as her intuitions were correct.

"In no foul," it replies, just as quiet, just as unsettling. A Shadow, appearing in a brightly lit room, on its own volition, right in front of a cleric of death? "I am Lingers in Passing. And my master wishes to meet the one in agony. The invitation extends to the Harpist."

Verna glances to Aryia at the reaction: a pefectly reasonable one, yet she holds out a hand in a staying (if perhaps not calming) gesture to her. Her attention primarly remains upon the Shadow. "Intriguing. Who is your master, and where are we desired to meet?" She inquires further, but agrees to nothing as of yet.

Aryia glances between Verna and the Shadow with an increasing twist to her visage. She had a hammering of a headache coming on.

The Shadow seems to take to the movement of the arm, melding into the faint shade it tosses out to the floor. "I am not at liberty to share my master's name. But an identity..."

Lingers in Passing chuckles, a sound that felt like an errant draft from the window sill. Letting in the cold. "... you have met them, and gave them sound advice."

The shade slides under the cot, idly reaching up to another shadow, but the clouds part outside further, and a barrier of light keeps them from inspecting with a light hiss. Then, they resume. "Upon the bridge, closest to the waterfront. Overmorrow, at the height of dusk."

The growing pained expression of Aryia's is not welcomed, nor desired by either of them... yet it does offer some correlative insight. Moreso as Lingers in Passing provides some contextually-identifying information.

Considering this, she looks to Aryia for inquiry and confirmation. "There is information to be gained, if you are willing."

Aryia shares the look with Verna, her white brows twisted upwards. She faintly nods in agreement, eyeing the Shade with some suspicion. An idle thought of hers made her wonder: could she punch the shadows?

...

... maybe.

The slits for eyes glance to the curtains of the nearby window. "Grant me darkness and I will stay overlong a moment."

"That is solely in the hands of ... the one in agony," Verna answers the shade whilst possibly deciphering some of Aryia's considerations or evaluations. Her suspicions, at the least. To her, she notes, "This creature is not a threat, at the moment."

Aryia sighs, stumbling a bit as she rises to her feet and pulls the curtain closed, casting a muted shadow over the area before plopping herself back on the cot, her headache redoubled.

Lingers in Passing lets out an audible sigh as the bits of bright light are reduced to nothing more than dimness. The inky black blob manifesting further, wisps of tendrils eeking out from the edges of its form. Yet it doesn't rise, looking to reave strength from the living, weakened souls of the hospital. It does smile, however. A crack in the shadow revealing a jagged line that just frames the wall behind it. "Delicious..." it comments hungrily.

A more comfortable lack of pure sunlight, for less discomfort, is tenable. Verna is less certain of a life-feeding entity loitering amongst the injured.. though it could likely have remained hidden far longer or permanently, had it wished. Not that she wishes it to linger overlong, for a number of concerns."

The most localized of these may be Aryia's redoubled pain. That, and concern for the others about, brings forth a concession. "Very well, we will meet. Return to your master to inform of such. I do not recommend that you return here in the interim."

Lingers in Passing soaks in the dimness for a moment longer before it sinks into the floor some. Naught but a slit for an eye remaining. "I have no intention of lingering here. It is too bright. And too many that will gladly burn me from existence."

A passing chill creeps over Verna's legs, could be mistaken for a draft as the Shadow uses her as an anchor. It blobs over to the leg of the cot. Then attaches itself to a passing aid with a load of fresh towels in hand. And before long, its out of sight.

Aryia is just blankly staring at where it went. "... that happened," she obviously gestures while rubbing the side of her skull. <Handspeech>

Verna makes her best attempt to maintain her composure as the thing slithers past with its chill aura. While generally never an issue (and at times more bane than boon), this time she is not entirely successful and some revulsion shows for a moment.

"Indeed, it did," she subsequently nods to Aryia. "Not terribly pleasant, yet informative. A rather distinct confirmation that the travellers are far more than they appear and that we are cautious."

Verna adds, with some concern, "Your headache appeared to return, and with some force. Does it wane at all, now, in its absence?"

And the warmth of the hospital returns to normal.

Aryia gives a slow, sage nod, her putting her chin into a hand as she closes her eyes. "... yes. It's not wholly surprising through that they are more, considering they probably are guised. Like you pointed out."

The question makes her cease her ministrations on her skull for a spell. "... no it's... still there. Just... not getting any worse..." <Handspeech>

"I would not object were my more suspicious observations proven wrong, in some instances," Verna admits. She also extends a hand to the fullblood's shoulder to impart some measure of comfort; not only as a gesture, but with the blessings of her Mistress empowering them. While Aryia is not injured, per se, there is no wish to see her in agony (per the shadow's choice of words).

Aryia sighs in relief as the headache is abated before it can do its lasting damage, the mute giving a smile of appreciation towards the Mourner. "Thank you. For ridding that, and... well, coming with me to this meeting."

She leans into the hand some, her smile turning to a light slant downwards. "... Got any theories bouncing around in that smart brain of yours?" <Handspeech>

Verna gives a pat with her hand as response to the gratitude. "I would not wish you to go alone, even were all signs to point to a benign benefactor, which they do not." She considers the matter further. "As to their true identity or intent? No. As to why they might wish to converse with you? Yes."

Her lips purse. "They are Charneth, and likely mul'niessa. It stands to reason, in my experience, that they seek something of you that benefits them more than it costs."

Aryia rubs her chin, sliding back to rest upon the wall once more. "I... had similar assumptions, but..."

There's a light groan, and she slides down to plant herself prone upon the cot. Her hand gestures off to the side, worry laced in the gestures. "... what if they're going to take me back? Or... try to? Do they know I'm escaped? But... why would they invite you if they're doing that..."

Her hand thuds lightly against the side of the cot, and a muffled 'ugh' comes from the mute. "It makes no sense." <Handspeech>

Verna's expression falls completely flat, neither pursed nor smiling. "If the intent is to capture, harm, nor otherwise assault you, I assure you that they shall NOT succeed." She does not expound upon details, but is unequivocal in her statement.

Afterwards, she relaxes somewhat. "Indeed. I do not expect that their aim is so sinister, or they would have struck without warning."

Aryia peeks an eye out to look up at the half-mul, her giving a thumbs up in agreement. "They won't. I'll bash their heads in and rip their shadow to shreds if they do." Seems like 'no one's getting captured on the mul and a half watch' is in full effect.

The mute nods against the cot before rolling to her side. She alights a hand with shimmery silver moonlight, and idly draws a line on the edge of the cot with it. "I don't think so either. Else they wouldn't have revealed they control that shade thing."

She shakes her head, and sigh languidly. "Guess we'll just have to be ready for anything when we go." <Handspeech>

"Cautious and prepared, but I believe that any threat would not be so direct nor overt," Verna shares. "It may well be a matter of a demand or task: you possess or might acquire a thing they wish. It might be a tangible object or something less so, such as information. We will not know until we meet."

Aryia nods once. "We will not know until we meet," she echoes in Handspeech, letting the last sign hang in the air before letting it fall with a light >bap< against her face. She picks up her hand to speak more, a moonlit handprint on her face now, "I think I'll rest here for a bit to make sure that shade is gone." <Handspeech>

Verna nods, "I must remain for a time, regardless. Feel free to rest as you require. Should you need anything, you are welcome to ask."

Aryia smiles, reaching out to put a hand on Verna's arm. "Thanks again, friend."

She totally gets the lunar finger paint on the sleeve. <Handspeech>

-End Scene-