Private Tales Paths Diverged

[Sigrith]

Following the closure of Pandemonium.

The red mists had dissipated and the powers of Pandemonium swallowed in the defensive gale of Eretejva's combined spirit. What rejoicing occurred had been short-lived as those survived were left to count those fallen. The closing had been a blur that Sigrith recalled with no great amount of clarity. There had been mists, and snow, and blood - an upheaval of dual planes combating for the right to exist.

She remembered Doggrave and his trumpeting and the song of her sisters. Vand's wild gaze in the chaotic winds. Sannoru saving her from a likely pit of hell. A stranger.

The corruption of a Svalen.

Blackness spread from an exposed wrist, evolving crippling pain and fever.

Should have been there several days ago, but errant ice storms and Sigrith's illness had slowed them substantially. Sannoru wore the black pelt, dutifully tending a fire as they hunkered down for another storm in an abandoned cave. Their rations were running out with no sign of prey for miles. No hunting with the gale outside.

Sigrith rested against the cave wall, sweat beading on her scalp, the lines of pain visible on her face. Somewhere hundreds of miles away Vand and Signe and Doggrave were on their way home, and closer yet Maude was dealing with the grief and the tales of the happening in Faarin.

"I'm sorry San," the Witch spoke after hours of bated silence, brow knit over closed eyes, "this wasn't how things were supposed to go."

 

[Sannoru]

The crackling of the fire was crisp against the howling wind and it's light flickered in and out of existance against the cold cavern walls. Almost as if enthralled the elf gazed into... and past the fire...it was slowly stabilising and engulfing the small kettle within. At least some luck against this horrid weather, energy was to be conserved for now.
And once that earthy concern was over, other thoughts were quick to sieze the mind. Cold shivers still spread across the body of the elf. Imagine having to be a hero against those monsters, the elf felt powerless in hindsight. It was not a battle the elf would fight in, willingly or had any stake in, at least untill it came dangerously close to loosing people one actually cared about.
But now it itched in their mind, that was not a battle to be won, but what if they came...again?
To engulf the world...-

"I'm sorry San," the Witch spoke after hours of bated silence, brow knit over closed eyes, "this wasn't how things were supposed to go."

Sannoru snapped her eyes wide before raising their head oh so slightly higher. She briefly shrugged her head, taking away her mind from the ill thoughts.
»... Don't blame yourself for things outside your domain of controll,« she tilted her head slightly back to gaze at her companion. Gazing at her in the state that Sigrith was, there was not much the spellscribe could do other than mend the initial wounds suffered. And even then, she was no healer of high prestige, only picking up this craft to occasionally help back in Whitereach.

 

[Sigrith]

The witch smirked, having grown an appreciation for Sannoru's words as much as her silence. Though she viewed the elf as a charge while trekking across these lands she called home, she had provided keen insight and wisdom aplenty. Never asked after her age but, so far as Sigrith could surmise, she wouldn't be surprised if San trumped her by 100 years yet.

Green eye cracked open beneath a strained brow, taking in the sight of the elf and her fire and kettle, "What are you making?"

They'd managed to collect some supplies and rations from Faarin before setting out but she'd not seen what San had chosen from the stash.

 

[Sannoru]

»Nightroot tea,« Sannoru replied, using one of the many names of this plant.
The fluid in the kettle was darkening, but one could very much still see the jet black tuber slices at the bottom of the kettle, sadly the local one San was able to get from Faarin was not strong enough to get it propperly dark. It was a hardy plant that grew throughout the east of Epressa, with it's plants with the strongest energising properties growing along the volcanis slopes of Sheketh and the weakest up here in Eretejva.
But it should still give enough of a good kick and energy boost.
»It will be ready soon.«

 

[Sigrith]

"Nightroot?"

Being what she was, Sigrith thought herself perfectly familiar with the local plants both poisonous and benign. Nightroot was not a name she was familiar with but she also hadn't seen the roots chosen for the tea. Whatever it was, it came from Faarin. San certainly hadn't been anywhere else to get it. Deciding not to give it too much thought, she closed that eye again to rest and wait.

A short while later the tea was as ready as it would ever be, San pouring it out into two small earthenware cups and joining Sigrith over at the side where they shared the pelt and sipped.

"Mm," nose wrinkled, yep she knew what that was, "this is Charrbush tea. My mother swore by it for everything. Never did like the bitter aftertaste."

 

[Sannoru]

The elf unwrapped and covered her and sigrith up like filling in a dough roll, now blowing faintly at the steaming, hot brew.
It was always so much better in company.

»That's what you call it then?« The Yokai nodded her head.
»Charrbush...It tastes different here, - slightly,« must've been the different soil, but San liked it better that way.

»It is, we often uprooted them on our way home to soothe our bodies after a hard trip or chore... Did your mother make it for you?« The elf then queried.

 

[Sigrith]

"I wouldn't know it by any other taste," a level reply, eyes closed as she let the tea steam and steep just beneath her chin. The scent brought back memories that she could not readily ascribe happiness or resentment. The muddling of emotions in relation to her family and her past was as murky as the tea in her cup.

"She made it for everyone," Sigi said, some small amusement in that, "it's common in the settlements to use it for many things. But Nordens have a developed taste for it," earthy and stringent, she carefully sipped and cringed, "me not so much."

But she knew the effects of drinking it, knew it would only keep her going. She'd drink it reluctantly just as she always had.

"My mother liked to have it ready for my sisters and I when we were finished with our training ... so we could go back and train some more."

 

[Sannoru]

San shook her head, chuckling in a knowing manner, showing a light smile.
»Ah, of course a brew to mend the reserve of the body would be used to extend the work... that's how it goes... «
And San knew it very well.

»It wasn't easy at home, was it? «

 

[Sigrith]

Not very often she saw the elf smile. It suited her. Dichromatic gaze fell back to the tea, a brew of memories affixed in her hand and the hardest to swallow. "Nothing in Nordengaard is easy. Everything is difficult, risky, challenging. It creates hard people to live in this hard landscape. But it's never so hard as when you're not really one of them when you're supposed to be."

A glance back, a moment taken to consider. They'd never been especially chatty, though they'd both told their fair share of stories over their journeys. Listening to the howl of the wind just beyond the cave entrance, she realized that they had nothing but time.

"My father was a straenseir ... an outsider. A human from the hunting villages to the west. He was in the mountains tracking a herd of elk when a storm hit. He broke his leg trying to find shelter and nearly died. My pe-" Sigi caught herself, not her people, "the people from Hjerim, the settlement I am from, found him and brought him to my mother. She is the Jorn, the leader of that city. She kept him and nursed him back to health." A shrugging gesture with her hand, "He was there a month...two, three maybe. They had a romance, and then when he was well he returned home."

"For Nordenfiir...a Norden pairing will always make another Norden. But Norden and human? Norden and Elf? ...the child either is or isn't. When they aren't, they are a Nord and..." her lips thinned, brows furrowing slightly, "they do not belong. But me? I am the child of the honored Jorn Thurna - I belong because she says so. But that does not mean everyone agrees with her."

 

[Sannoru]

Sannoru touched her lips to the rim of the cup. It was still hot, but it did good to penetrate deep under her skin.

Her ears were perked, taking in the words spoken to her, to the fire to this private space...
And one would say the yokai were unwelcome, but to not accept one born within their own rank?
She blew at and took a brief, surface sip from the cup.

»People are needlessly foolish,« the elf spoke quietly in adition, not wanting to divert the conversation much. But it now made all the more sense why the witch was on the move and the company she took.

 

[Sigrith]

Sigrith felt a silent, unsmiling agreement to that statement. Things would be much different if they weren't. Futile, though, despite the words of the new Norden Queen. A woman after her own heart in many ways, but doubt clouded what little left of her could be offered in loyalty.

"It is the way of their people," she said dispassionately, "a nation of slaves created for the whims of man long ago. They see from a landscape of sacrifice, they think they are protecting themselves by being this way. But it has been long enough. No one even knows the truth of it anymore." Shifting slightly, she cringed as she moved her maligned arm into her lap.

"That's how you get people like Signe and the Witches. And Vand. And Withereach."

Her feelings towards Vand were as muddled as those towards her past. The man had garnered a strange, weird sort of fondness from her in the efforts he made for his people and his home. Anymore, though, he'd struck as addled and Sigrith wasn't so sure of his intentions. Signe continued to trust him but even that was questionable. Sometimes she got the impression that Signe merely appeased him for her own amusement. And Doggrave? She wasn't sure the connection there.

The trio were an odd bunch indeed, but they and the Coven were the closest she had to family anymore. There was no going back to Hjerim.

"I once thought about finding my father. But I do not even know his name. I don't know what he looks like, or the place he called home."

Juvenile wantings that clung to her like snowflakes to fur. Holding on until they melted in the warmer weathers of age. She didn't want those things anymore.

"What would I even do if I found him, I wonder."

 

[Sannoru]

With closed eyes and her muzzle deep in the warm vapors of the cup, San only took in the spoken words.
A race of slaves, an interesting use of words indeed, people whom are mere tools to work at the whins of others.
Perfect breeding ground for resentment, so thought San.

A long time ago San did tell of her fate, she was an orphan of war and knew neither parent nor sibling. Her whole clan wiped clean for all but her and another distant relative. Never knowing the comforts of an actual family, not even the family name, the thought of it was rather foreign. Plus, longing for the dead is a waste.

»Do you think he still lives?«
Dead, alive, finding an unknown man is like searching the haystack for a marked straw which may or may not be there.

 

[Sigrith]

A question she had asked herself many times before. Sigrith couldn't say for certain, but a feeling in her gut told her the truth of it. She'd learned to listen to her gut more than anything in the recent years to pass.

"No," she gently blew on the tea, "I don't," and took a long drink.

 

[Sannoru]

Sannoru neutrally nodded her head. Probably true, and probably a thing best to not turn one's head over too much.

And the blackmed mass upon Sigrith's skin. Well, not much to be done about that for now, - san gazed at the void past the wall. An a familiar, silence came from the elf, but it felt more uncanny at this time than normal.

 

[Sigrith]

The tea might've been meant to energize but with the gale outside and the lack of visibility, neither made a move to leave the safety and warmth of the fire. Just as well, it wouldn't do to get lost so far north - settlements of any kind were spread much farther and the likelihood of stumbling upon an enemy was just as high as stumbling upon nothing at all and dying of exposure.

Sigrith finished her tea and curled against the elf, corrupted arm cradled at her middle as she swept in and out of feverish dreams.

 

[Sannoru]

The dark elf would sip the last of te tea before wiping the glazed earthware and setting it aside.
Time would pass at an increasingly slower pace and with Sigrith curled up so close, every painful throe resonated through San's body.
Their eyes would shine cyan against the fire, mind deep in thought, there was no intent to rest on the elf's end.

 

[Sigrith]

Hours dwindled by, marked by the bellows of the winds outside. The gale a fierce reminder that Eretejva had no master, only survivors. Sigrith awoke when pain overwhelmed rest, taking a dose of herbal tea to numb the sensation.

The snow was deep but also covered by a layer of ice. Tested beneath the weight of her boots it did not hold, forcing her to consider shifting for the final leg of the journey. It wasn't much farther but using her wounded arm to travel was a task she did not look upon with favor. In the end it was the smartest way to go. They'd never make it to the Sanctuary by nightfall on two feet each.

"Take these," the witch had searched through the bags she carried upon her back, giving to the elf a worn, leather-bound book and an iron amulet of a Nordenfiiri symbol on a silver chain, "there are maps and notes of trail markers, settlements, covens ... the ones I know of. The amulet will gain you entrance to any Nordenfiir city. If I should fall before we make it -" darkly-rimmed eyes narrowed beneath a furrowed brow, "let the snow bury me and find your way back to Withereach."

 

[Sannoru]

The yokai disliked the situation, but it was not at its worst anymore. A laborous walk nonetheless to expect and the wind shifted the powdered snow around, often enough in the direction of one's face.
Sannoru cleared the snow before the cove, fully prepared to embark while Sigrith tested it at the back.

"Take these,"

Sannoru turned towards Sigrith and stepped closer, takin the book while tilting their head a little and squinting one eye in suspicion.
their expression soured at what followed after.

»And what are hands for? I'll carry you if I must.«​

San was in debt, the 'on-kari' was binding.
The book was handed back and Sannoru returned to the cove in a not too good mood. Their moodyness was unpredictable, and it didn't sound like they were too graceful as they searched through their stashes for a particular leaflett written not too long ago.

 

[Sigrith]

Far be it for the witch to be put off by the elf's soured mood.

"San..." a tempered sigh, she stepped after her back into the cave, "you don't owe me that. Besides, I'm twice your size."

The mass difference between the two was less noticeable when they traveled covered head to foot in furs and leathers and armor, as the case was for Sigrith. But they had bathed together in the hot springs and shared sleeping area, curled together for warmth. San was slight and petite - Sigrith quite the opposite. A Nord through and through, flesh to bone.

"Please take them," an insistent hand held out the book and amulet again, "for my sake."

Once she shifted there was no procuring them again and if she fell while walking on all fours ... San would have nothing to aid her journey home.

 

[Sannoru]

San would refuse to take or even acknowledge the items.
Brielfy turning to throw a long leather strip at Sigrith, San returned to rummaging, pulling out a remarkable leaf, stained to the brim in ink.
It was one of the spells Sannoru had worked on the past few hours, but was not complete and would be of no use in it's current condition. Yet...the elf knew the old tricks still.

The yokai walked onto the far end of the cavern, biting into their own skin and drawing blood. Some of it was dripped onto the leaf, the rest... Sannoru in graceful strokes, with strokes moving their whole body across the wall, painted a large deer as far as it could reach.

Finishing the motion, a touch with the bloodied leaf to the forehead...
In a darkned smog, the shape of the elf would morph into the figure of a large reindeer hind, like one of those herded in the hindlands.

In this new shape, San would walk out and bow down, »this is my resolve, get on, we're leaving now.«

 

[Sigrith]

Eyes of the aurora watched the elf through the shadow of the cave, the leather strip swatting at her front and falling listlessly to her feet. Sigrith blinked back a swell of pain in her arm, knitted brow holding in the shock of it traveling to her bones and striking up the length of her muscles into her shoulder, into her chest. The hand that held the items seized and dropped them, fingers splayed as if offended by what they represented.

Maybe that was the whole point.

She gripped her bad wrist in an attempt to still the tremors, looking up as not an elf but a strange looking deer approached. The smell of Sannoru and her blood had filled the cave, stinging the senses of the Nord but her wonder did not pale. A creature whose familiarity was only in its silhouette and its origins were only known to the elf, she wanted to stroke through the fur and feel the breath of its powerful lungs on her face, but the grip of pain held her back.

That was San's resolve - to take the last leg of the journey upon herself.

This was Sigrith's resolve.

The witch took a step back, wonder shifting to something grave. Perhaps it was less the corruption of a demon and more the stain of pride. Sigrith couldn't tell what the sour taste at the back of her throat signified but she felt it sizzle into the pit of her stomach and took it for what it meant in her heart. She had to take this path of her own volition. Yet, San was right about one thing: they were leaving now.

Moments later with the cracking of bones and the howl of the storm beckoning, the deer stepped out into the gale with the white wolf beside it - pristine pelt marred by the sickness slowly spreading along the front left fore across wither and chest. The snowy pelt sloughed free there, stinking of sulfuric arcane and leaving festering skin behind.

The wolf walked with a limp, following the path broken through the snow by the deer, the fog of their breath snatched away in the winds.

 

[Sannoru]

Powdery snow would stick to the pelt of the hind, like glistening scales that would melt as soon as puffs of hot exhale were blown across.
Snow was odd. Serene at times.
A deafening silence was to engulf the reindeer hind. Only herself and her thought to mind.

"You are loosing. Intentionally!"

"Why would I prolong the inevetible anyway..."​

"Are you willing to give up just so?"​

"I'm choosing my battles..."​

"Choosing? There's no choice. You're loosing this battle."

"Chi, It's just a game..."​

"And what about out there? Are you just gonna lay down and die next time your hands almost got hacked off?!"​

"I - no! ... Chi, I would never... I mustn't... "

"...No matter how tempting the thought.. No death is good made on merits of surrender.....​

And who can I fault, I lived through the same. Without a care for one's self. Everyone needs a push ... to go... just ...a little... further.


Mind as heavy as the bodythat slaved through the mountnous heaps of snow. Each heavy step, a battle against the chilling wind. Like a bulwark the reindeer moved onward.
Ice would crunch as the layer on top broke, crushed as the long legs dug into the snow, digging a crease for the wolfess behind. Was she still there?
A gaze was passed back and a puff of hot air.


There was no end to it, yet the draw, the pull was stronger than the desire to lie and sleep. To rest eternally in the frigid snow...
There was light in the end, a goal to reach.
Stagnancy meant death.

 

[Sigrith]

All her life she'd been haunted by the feeling that she just didn't belong.

Just a Nord.

Just a Witch.

Straenseir.

Always thought her wanderlust had been fed by the disgust of ire targeted upon her. But even in the welcoming arms of her sister Witches she had never felt fully part of them. Different from the rest somehow yet desperate to fit in. She knew that's what drew her to Vand - a man who could care less what others thought of him. Who cut his own path, made his own rules. Thought she'd find kinship in him, instead she found disdain in herself.

Vand wasn't the answer, he was just another victim.

She was a good twenty yards behind when San looked back, the bulk of her white and sickly form pressed against the winds as if Eretejva herself didn't want her taking this path. If even the land rebelled against it, then perhaps it made this journey all the more imperative.

San pressed through as they stepped between two rises of frozen stone, the winds tearing through with an angry whistle. As they rounded a turn she found herself within the breaking of a mountain pass overlooking a flat and barren valley of white and grey for as far as the eye could see. Snow gave way to ice beneath cloven hooves and frozen paws. Sigrith caught up as their path leveled out, the winds not quite so terrible out in the open, a crisp and clear air greeted their lungs.

It began to snow and their visibility was suddenly zero.

Sigrith had taken this path once before with her mother and sisters when she was very young. She remembered this realm as if she'd walked through it just yesterday. Back then her mother had a strong sense of purpose and direction and ages of wisdom and experience to draw upon. Every step made with the knowledge of where she was going, where she was meant to be. How Sigi had looked up to her then.

Now she felt more lost than she ever had.

 

[Sannoru]

As their distance seperated, the hind slowed down her pace so catching up were easier, only fully regrouping once their feet touched the even ground.
Criii-. The ice bowed beneath their weight. San's pace slowed even more, out of necessity and conservation this time round.


Ice creaked, frost crunched.
Wind lessned yet the snowfall worsened.
It was a white cage, blinding, depriving and endless. No different from a black ditch to the elf...in fact, It was worse.

»Sigrith... « Sannoru's voice cut through the deafening silence like a lightning. The yokai was not the one to complain about anything. It was more so their nature to silently suffer, even now Sanno had a hard time forming simple words.
Yet these conditions were different.
»How far...«

 

[Sigrith]

Snowflakes clung to white fur, sinking into darkened flesh. What should have been a relieving cool only served to sting. Whatever corruption remained in her from the other realm did not like what these lands had to offer. Creeping pain followed the paths of nerves along her spine, the visible infection had spread in the hours spent trudging through the snows. It was getting harder to breath, harder to walk. The afflicted leg had succumbed to a mind-numbing agony, as if engulfed in flames nearly an hour ago.

Sigrith looked around at the wall of shifting white that surrounded them. The only way she knew was the path her mother's memory forged ahead. How far?

"I-" a ragged voice over a whine, "close ... it's close."

She didn't know who she was attempting to reassure, but she pressed on, left forepaw leaving visible stains of black with each step.