If You Can See Me

Lupecyll-Atlon house, University District, evening.

The sky is dark and full of stars already, Daeus's noble light sent to rest while His noble daughter comes to take the firmament as Her stage. The breeze comes in cool and exciting bursts, rustling the leaves that are beginning to return to the trees and underscoring a feeling that sends the students of the District scurrying about in excitement some streets down. Something is going to happen tonight. That's the mood, that's the thought, that's the whisper that the breeze brings, even to a home in the University District where the students don't stumble down very often.

Inside the home, Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon's mulling over poetry, but she keeps staring at one line in particular in her journal. She finds herself chewing on her bottom lip, which she stops doing and replaces with a light growl instead. "Have I ever mentioned that I hate sonnets?" she complains. "I hate structure on poems. I don't know why I agreed to write a sonnet for the next reading, but I did."

She puts down her ink quill and her journal, staring at the wall from her spot on the couch in the living room like it might answer her need. "I haven't been able to finish anything since that blasted bookstore visit," she grumbles. "Asshole threw me off."

Meanwhile, Telamon is seated at the kitchen table while Lana fights with her muse. Paging through a book, while taking notes, his pencil scratching softly. Glancing up, he looks sympathetic, and sets his studies aside to walk over to his wife. "You did what you needed to do. And it's not as if you -did- anything, love. I admit I was annoyed, but more because you were around that bastard than anything else. I wish I'd been there with you."

He touches her shoulder gently. "Maybe put it aside for now. Talk to me. I need some advice anyways -- about your favorite subject, to boot." His eyes twinkle merrily.

It isn't raining, though that wouldn't deter the current visitor to the Lupecyll-Atlon estate. Aya prefers the evening, though the timing may be less due to her preferences and more things beyond her control. Despite her brisk (which in her context is significant) pace here, she pauses a moment before she knocks on the door firmly. Hopefully firmly enough and not -too- firmly. Seeking help is not her strongest trait, even now. This may be exactly why she is now harried as she is.

Ambling behind Aya with her hands in her pockets is a scarred mul'neissa woman, her verdant buckle jacket closed and keeping pace with her sister. She lets her knock, this was Aya's venture after all. She pulls out a taffy, popping it into her mouth and chewing on it slowly.

Cor'lana sighs in exasperation, but she offers Telamon a small smile as he walks over and puts a hand on her shoulder. "I just don't enjoy--"

And then there comes the knock on the door. Cor'lana narrows her eyes. "That had better not be the dog coming around to beg for another bone," Cor'lana mutters. Thankfully, Pothy's in the other room and is asleep, so none of him pointing out the phrasing is had as she walks up to the front door, carefully unlocks it, and opens it to find...

"Oh! Aya, Aryia." Cor'lana is clearly surprised, but smiles. "Good evening and hello."

"We all do things we don't -enjoy-, but they still need doing." Telamon smiles back at Lana. "I think you're letting it get to you. What I'm thinking is--"

What Tel is thinking has to be put on pause at the knock. Casually, he sidles along just behind Cor'lana and to the side, flexing his fingers. "If it is, he'll get what Zinskas got," he warns in a cool tone.

But then the door is opened and Telamon blinks. Then he smiles in welcome as well. "Indeed -- what she said," he comments with a grin.

"Hello," Aya returns to Cor'lana, then Telamon, not exactly returning the smile, but not glowering. Nor smirking. "I am sorry for the unexpected visit. I thought I knew where he might be. I thought we would have left ages ago. I should have realized this at once. I ..." A pause. A breath in, a breath out. "I need your help. With him. With IT. Again. I need to find him."

Aryia waves from behind Aya. Any purpose of her visiting as well is given with a jab of a thumb towards her sister. She herself didn't look particularly happy, though instead of her usual resting Aryia face, there is a familiar etched visage of resolve.

She offers a taffy across the threshold of the door. It's ginger.

Cor'lana looks briefly at the offered taffy and sort of gives Aryia a confused look--and then she realizes the impact of Aya's words. She nods, just once. "I understand," she says. "Come on in."

She turns around on her heel and walks back into the house. "Tel, can you get Pothy to come out of the study?" she asks. "I have a feeling we're about to need it." She ducks into her bedroom, presumably to change into more protective garments suitable for powerful spellwork.

"I'll get him. Grab my stuff too, would you? I'll be in there to change in a sec." Telamon lets the two mul'niessa in before shutting the door, offering Aya and Aryia both a smile. With that, he walks into the study, and comes back out with a sleepy Pothy cradled in his arms. "Sorry, little brother," he says to the raven. "We need to work some magic in there."

He settles Pothy on the sofa in a blanket nest, with a bowl of nuts in case the bird gets peckish. That done, he returns to his guests. "What do you have of his?" he asks Aya gently.

"Thank you," Aya is grateful to be invited in, and more. She steps in and waits. Sort of. Another of her non-virtues. Her hands wring a moment before they delve into her belongings to retrieve several items. Scrolls. A mirror.

She pauses as Pothy is relocated, watching the little bird for a long moment. Until Telamon pulls her attention back with the question. "Of his?" She blinks. "Everything was in the house. I don't know if… I-Is that needed to find him?!" Now worry creases her features.

Aryia slips in once she's invited, pocketing her untaken candy for later. Maybe Pothy might want it once he gets woken up. She raises a brow at said bird, eyeing the section of the couch set aside just for him. Were she in the mood, she'd snark. But snark isn't present.

She watches her sister grow worried, and a she takes a breath, stepping forward. Her hands hush in a calming motion towards Aya. "Did he give you any gifts? Jewelry? Clothing? Anything that was once his?" she asks, having done scry business before. <Handspeech>

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Spellcraft: (20)+17: 37

Pothy is all snug and tucked in on the couch. He's got his nuts, he's got his warms, he's all set. "Have fun!" he calls out in the boyish voice that Aya and Aryia have heard before, albeit when volunteering to go stay with the Queen of Air and Darkness for a century in her Court.

Cor'lana emerges from the bedroom dressed in her adventuring gear, which makes her really look like the sorceress she claims to be. "It can help if you have something physical of his," Cor'lana explains regarding the spell. She gestures to Tel subtly over her shoulder that his gear is on the bed waiting for him. "Tel had to find me once and used my blood to find me more readily. But you could use a garment, a possession of his, or even just a likeness or a picture of him. It's not really required, but it helps with the spellwork."

With Lana back out, and Pothy all snug, Telamon nods in agreement with Lana. "It works with most divinations. Hold on, I'll be back..." Stepping into the bedroom and shutting the door, before moving with swift intent to get dressed.

A few minutes later, the door opens again, with Tel dressed for adventuring. Raking a hand through his shaggy platinum hair, he looks at Lana. "Which raises an interesting question. We do have Aya here, maybe she'd count as 'something of Daechir's'?" He looks at Aya. "No offense. I have a suspicion your house was burned precisely to keep us from doing this."

Aya looks from her sister, to Cor'lana, to Telamon, back to Aryia, head barely moving but eyes darging to and fro. "I don't know..." Is anything and/or everything she might have had of him is gone? Might it keep her from finding him? Did she not value anything from him enough to keep it close? Which of these possibilities is worst? There are alot of things Aya doesn't know.

"I have these?" She remember the items she did acquire in the hopes of finding him and sets the scrolls and mirror down. The items that allegedly would allow someone who knew how to use them to do so. Unless the merchant was swindling her. Which she hopes he did not. Emptied and with nothing else to do, they reach up to needlessly adjust her ribbon-woven braids.

Aryia nods along with the two half-sil, her crossing her arms as she watches her sister unload the items needed for a remote viewing. A sigh escapes her, and she rests a hand on Aya's shoulder to calm her down. The mute gives her a reassuring smile, gaze idly scanning the harried mul just in case there was something she'd miss-

She raises a brow, reaches forward, and unceremoniously takes Aya's braid to hold it up to her.

Cor'lana catches that gesture, of course, looking at the braid that Aryia's holding up. "Did he do that for you? It'd count, I think," she says. "Either way, I think we can scry without a material possession. He is known. It just makes the spell easier."

She stops in her rattling about the spell to look at Aya. "Either way, Tel and I will help you. Promise. Don't worry about that. Thank you for bringing the scrolls and the mirrors." Her smile is soft, warm, and reassuring.

Telamon nods in agreement with Cor'lana. "This can be done. Have faith." He steps into the study, and moves a couple things around... opening up enough space for four people to stand in there without it getting too crowded. "Lana, do you want to cast the spell? Use your vestment -- I know neither of us has expended a lot of mana today, so we might as well save the scroll in case we need to use it again."

Telamon examines the mirror, nodding in approval, before looking at Aya. "In fact, Lana probably -should- cast the spell. Last time I saw a scrying I was... a little distracted."

Aya blinks somewhat cross-eyes at her own braid. Rather, the silver and red ribbons in it. Each from a different person close to her heart. "I am a fool. Sister, next time... slap me." To Cor'lana, she clarifies, cheeks coloring. "The red ribbon is his. He favors red, almost always." She starts working on unbraiding as she steps with them to the study. Suddenly, things seem to have turned for the better.

"When we find him," she begins, choosing that over 'if,' now. "Would you be ready to travel to him? Soon? I do not wish to presume..." Or plead, but she might.

Aryia gives a seemingly nonchalant thumbs up. To what? In welcome for spying it? In agreement to slapping her? Who knows, but she's got a little smile on her face as she ambles into the study with the others.

She didn't need to answer Aya's question, it was already known. Though she /does/ offer ginger taffy one more time to the other three.

Cor'lana smiles a little to see Aya and and Aryia interacting the way they do. She nods at the explanation. "I can be ready to go," she says, picking up on the implication. "Which means it's up to Tel if we're good to travel. And knowing my starborn king, he'll never refuse an opportunity to travel by night." There's a twinkle in her eyes with the phrase said in Sylvan.

"Let's get set up, then," Cor'lana says, moving into the study. "Thank you for the offer of taffy, Aryia, but I'm good. Pothy might like it, though."

She assembles the mirrors in the way they ought to be for a scrying. The study is a surprisingly apt spellcasting chamber, with enough floorspace for a ritual circle to be drawn according to the specifications of a spell, which it has been for the scrying.

And finally, she holds the scroll in her hands. "Let us begin," she says. "Aya, are you contributing the ribbon, or are we going without it?"

"If he's within the city, we won't be able to translocate," Telamon warns. "That being said, Lana and I can fly, and I can supply you with some -very- fast mounts on short notice. If the fiend doesn't realize he's been spotted, we could land on him like the proverbial giant's-weight worth of bricks." The notion seems to appeal to Tel, judging from his grin.

However, once it comes to casting, he's all business, assisting Lana in getting the ritual circle ready. At Aryia's offer, though, he experimentally takes the taffy, sniffing at it with interest before popping it into his mouth. "Hm," he says contemplatively.

Aya has no shortage of hair, which means a great deal of braid. At one point, in her eagerness to release the ribbon, she considers a knife. Only for a moment. It's almost a sacrilege, and it could damage the ribbon. What if it is all she has left of- Which brings a concern and fingers in hair pause. "Would the magic consume it? I ... would much rather keep it."

She then looks between them all. "I expect he's in Charn, from what was said and done. I don't expect the trip would be pleasant." That said, it seems everyone else is prepared and willing. How could she be otherwise. "Try first without, please," she bids Cor'lana. "We will use it if we must." Once Daechir is back, she will get him all the replacement ribbons he desires.

Aryia nods to Lana and underhand tosses one towards Pothy on the couch through the doorway before getting settled into the environment. She hands a taffy over to Telamon.

It doesn't taste particularly great, the tang of ginger strong. But its medicinal properties certainly help an upset stomach. Especially those given by nerves.

She looks to Aya. "And fucking up the magic won't alert them?" she points out. "Doing it a second time might give them all the heads up they need. But your choice."

She does, however, give Telamon a glance. Something faster than the sisters? "We do have to get the fiend out of him. But, we'll tackle that when we get there." <Handspeech

"I understand your hesitation," Cor'lana says, "but the ribbon wouldn't be consumed in the spellcasting, and as Aryia said--I'd like to get this done on the first go and not the second. There are ways to tell if you're being scryed on, and if they tell and we fail--then they might block it altogether and the second try will be for nothing."

She holds out her hand for the ribbon. "If you're willing. And if not, then I will try without it, and if we fail the first time, then I will try harder on the second--and hope for the best."

And with Aya's answer, she casts the spell, reading aloud the scroll.

Aryia has a point. Several, in fact. With Cor'lana's assurance, Aya hands over the ribbon. The best chance is the best chance.

The spell takes an hour to cast, so it's a long time in waiting. Anticipation before the spell takes hold.

The vision resolves in the mirror, showing a dark room, but the room is not the first or even second thing that is noticeable about what is seen. The image before you is that of a mul’niessian man. He lays on the floor, his once-fine clothing were once the quality that Telamon and Aryia could find appreciation for. Now however it is tattered and beaten. Little of it remains, showing his ebony skin to the dim light that is available to see him by. His eyes are closed, his breathing shallow and uneven, it’s clear that he is awake, but not looking at his surroundings. To Aya however, there is one thing that stands out above all others. His hair.

Once the black locks fell practically to his knees even while braided, but now… Now he is shorn. Someone has rudely chopped off almost all of his hair. It falls somewhat short of his shoulders, but in shaggy bundles of uneven lengths. This seems a purposeful thing, as if to further add to his sense of hopelessness about his situation. Because there is a sense there, that hope is something that has been eroded slowly but surely from the man you see.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d20+13: (16)+13: 29
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+14: (6)+14: 20
GAME: Aya rolls will: (18)+17: 35

The casting takes an hour, but it feels longer to Tel. It didn't feel this long in the temple, when -- he breaks off that line of thought firmly. Focusing his thoughts on supporting his bride as she works the magic, to find Aya's lost man.

As the image swims into view finally, Tel's eyebrows rise at Daechir's state. This is... different. But his gaze is moving -- trying to see anything that would give a clue as to the man's location. Even so much as a scrap of paper or a sign on a wall, a set of barred doors -- whatever he can scrounge from the image.

Aya can do little but watch and wait as Cor'lana works her magic. Patience to await the proper opportunity is an asset, a virtue. Here, it is ... not so existent. She attempts to calm her breathing, to focus much of her thoughts elsewhere. Aya does not realize that she may have even slowed her breathing significantly until the vision appears. And she sucks in a gasp of inhale.

First, just at the sight of him. There he is! Rising excitement. Hope! Then... she notices what a sight he actually is, the state he is in. For moment she isn't sure he's breathing, then isn't sure he's breathing -well-. His clothing... well, no. Not so much a concern to her as they might be him. Clothes are replaceable, and his skin being visible is hardly a negative to her. His hair, on the other hand? Yes, it would grow back. No, it isn't as valuable as he is. It does confirm to Aya, though, that this fiend is perhaps as bad as its former master. In addition to being a thing of pure evil and a source of torment... it is also a dick.

"Where is he?!" she asks in a whisper through gritted teeth, somehow fearful they might be heard through the magic.

GAME: Aryia rolls sense motive: (11)+24: 35

Aryia, for the time of the spell to be cast, merely sits still and focuses on breathing. Her back against a wall and head lulled back. She looks over occasionally, but spies how frayed Aya's is about this. Silently, she slides over, collects the mass of hair, and... simply works on getting that braid back together. She leans forward to faintly whisper in her sister's ear, "It'll be okay."

Once the spell is cast, she leans over, peering in at the image. She frowns. There's the resting Aryia face. She inhales slowly. Exhales through the nose. Glowing eyes dart about the space shown. He's alive, but the state is... odd. Hrm...

The mute leans past her sister, getting a closer look. She offers a universal gesture 'I dunno' with a vague wave of a hand in terms of the whispered question. A pause, and she twirls a circle with her finger at the downed Daed. "This all feels a bit... I don't know, too on the nose?" <Handspeech>

Cor'lana seems to agree with Aya's sentiment. She attempts to manipulate the spell to look around the room for more in the way of clues. Her expression is grim, however, as she sees his condition and his state of wear and gloominess.

Perhaps it reminds her of something too close to home, something that'd happened almost a year ago. There's a nod on her face with Aryia's suggestion, but she's unable to speak as she murmurs the incantation, her fingers weaving the motions for controlling the spell in the way that's desired.

There is nothing to see. The room is stone of black and empty. Well… mostly empty. A single chain connects the wall to Daechir, it is bound around his neck. The heavy weight of it is perhaps at least some of what bears him to the ground. Aya knows his secrets, and so it seems too do those that hold him. Appropriate perhaps since the demon you hunt was once Aya.

There is no sound in the scrying vision. Only visuals. But something, something makes Daechir open his crimson eyes. The look in his eyes is positively heartbreaking. They’re empty. As if there’s nothing left of him inside them. His hopelessness is a palpable thing. Then a demon appears in the vision from the corner. It’s an odd looking thing. Some horrible cross between a blue-hued insect and a humanoid. It picks Daed up and holds him high. The thing is so tall that choking Daed on the chain that binds him is easy for it. His eyes widen, his mouth open and trying to breathe, but it’s not hard to tell that he is struggling with his body not to fight back. Not to do anything but remain limp in its arms.

It says something to him. Something that makes his eyes trail around the room with despair. He tries to say something through the gasping, but the creature shoves one of its many limbs into his mouth. Then with its other arms it begins to tear his shirt off him, each motion making his body jerk a little with the force of the movement.

GAME: Aryia rolls sense motive: (18)+24: 42
GAME: Aryia rolls 1d100: (21): 21

Telamon clenches his fists at the display, trying to memorize the location. "I will find him," he states. "He can't hide from us forever." Starry eyes burn with resolve, especially when the demon comes into view. "There you are, you son of a bitch."

He flinches at the sight of the demon abusing Daechir, instead focusing on the image of the room -- the black stone, the chain -- in his mind's eye. "If we leave the city, I could at least try to teleport there..."

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/The Planes: (8)+8: 16
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/The Planes+2: (10)+8+2: 20
GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/the planes: (20)+4: 24

Those eyes... Aya is certain that the fiend is still flesh-riding Daechir when she sees them. That is the only way they could be so ...lifeless. Even after the fiend proves her wrong by approaching Daechir, she wants to believe it is some minion. Some -other-. "No.." Not a yell. Not a hiss. Not even much of a whisper. The word is at Aryia volume.

The moment Daed rises, or rather is lifted, Aya straightens. When it shoves that hand into him, she stiffens. When it starts assaulting him, she starts to move. Then fights the urge and holds. Until she all but starts to vibrate. "Where. Is. He." A demand, low and forceful. No, she isn't angry at Cor'lana, or Telamon, or anyone here, but she now sounds it.

Aya's eyes spare Telamon a flick. "Then we leave the city." There. Simple. That 'if' can be quickly removed.

Aryia is staring. The scene unveiling itself before her. These precious seconds were worth so much. She deeply inhales. Holds it. And /focuses/.

Her nostrils flare, a vein pulsing against her temple as she watches this horror unfold. Her shining eyes burn brighter, and faint lines of moonlit energy glimmer against her skin. She looks from demon, to Daed, back to demon. And she-

Pulls out her journal? Slams it down, and furiously scribbles on a landscape page. She puts the pen in her mouth to very quickly sign, "They know we're watching. Daed knows he's being watched, and he's not happy about that. They also said something to him. Best I could get is this, but I only speak bitch, not demonic fuck up."

She holds up her page.

It reads: L---s l--e we ----lly ---- a a---ance.

"We should end the spell, it might get even worse for him if we keep watching." She reads her written words for a moment, rocks from side to side, then gestures more. "I think it said 'looks like we finally have an audience?'." <Handspeech>

Cor'lana stares at the creature in the scrying vision, and while there's a look of horror on her face when the fiend assaults Daechir, she manages to find the wits to _think_. And... listen, to sounds unheard, her tilting her head. "Ice devil," she murmurs. "Tel and I know what that is. It's a nasty sort of devil that can slow their enemies. They're... using it to torture him."

Then Aryia reveals her information. A hiss leaves her mouth. "Then we're not going to just let them torture him for the sake of making us look at it," Cor'lana decides. "Are we leaving, then? I'll close this spell if we are."

It is only getting worse from here. Daed struggles not to struggle, but when the devil in the vision starts to cut into his flesh it is clear that something inside him dies away. His eyes go to some far-away place and his body goes limp. It almost looks like he himself is dead the way he no longer reacts. It does not stop though. It keeps cutting bits and pieces into Daed. His chest is a coated in blood. Tiny squares of flesh were pulled off and dropped to the floor. Like so much meat. Then, the devil pulls out a scroll and his flesh is miraculously knitted back together.

They could have done this thousands of times. His shirt is repaired a moment later. How many times? He is dropped carelessly to the floor, his eyes so distant. Like there is another world inside him.

Telamon nods, averting his gaze from the image. "End the spell, Lana." His eyes turn to Aya, and the stars within are hard, bright, and cold. "We have a little trip to make. We're going to find him. We're going to kill that fiend. And we're going to bring your man home." He reaches out to touch Aya's shoulder, before nodding to Aryia, and stepping over next to Lana.

If not for the shining eyes and sudden slam, Aya may not have turned away from the vision to see her sister's gestures and page. Realization strikes and she shuts her eyes. "Of course it is. It knows I'm watching." She opens eyes now wet rather than raging. "End-" She starts to agree, then falls silent as she wishes she had agreed a bit faster. "End the spell. Please." How long has it been doing this? How long has it -felt- it was doing this, to him? "We will end it." That task has never changed, though she sounds far less zealous at this instant.

Aryia watches the display with a detached expression, having some empathy about it, based on all the scars she bares.

She simply flips the mirror over, and nods that she is ready to go.

Cor'lana's ready. She claps her hands together and ends it as Aryia flips the mirror over. She takes Telamon by the arm and draws in a breath to center herself--and steel herself for what is to come.

"Alright," she says. "Let's go. Let's see what we can do. Get him back home." Violet eyes burn brightly with resolve.

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Spellcraft: (8)+17: 25
GAME: Aryia rolls spellcraft: (8)+3: 11
GAME: Telamon rolls spellcraft: (15)+16: 31

All due haste is made to the edge of the city. They reach it in record time, and Telamon casts his spell to reach the destination that they saw in the vision. Only... it doesn't work. He tries again, just for good measure, a few feet further from the city. Because leaving Daechir like that feels so wrong. But still the spell is not enough. For some reason, you can not teleport to the location in the image. Is it not well enough known? Is it somewhere safe from teleportation? Is it somewhere unreachable?

Telamon knows from the first effort, but he doesn't want to admit it. Wants to be wrong. Magic slips from his fingers and the truth is revealed to him. Even Cor'lana understands by this second effort.

He is no longer on Ea.

-End