Fable - Ask The Scent of Lost Magic

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Neith

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Neith only looked at the captain with sheer defiance as he threatened her with a 'talk'. She slammed the door as the man left and pressed her back against it with a deep sigh, realising how quickly her heart was beating.

She laughed under her breath at Kyril's words and nodded.. "Aye, I might.." she smirked and rubbed at her face.

"What did you do exactly?.." she asked as she staggered her way back to him, the ship swaying violently.
 
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Kyril

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Kryil took a few labored breaths, his head lulling slightly as he tried to focus a bit more on the moment.

It was hard to fight through the haze. Almost impossibly so. He looked up at her for a moment, then started to try and explain. "The world is filled with elementals. Wild ones."

A fact that one of his peers had learned and told him about.

"Most of the time they just roam around, depending on what they are." He smiled lazily. "Fire elementals like volcanoes, water elementals like small pools."

A fact that had surprised him. He always thought they'd prefer oceans. "Storm...s-storm elementals like the sea."

"I just...talked to it. Summoning is the wrong word. I just asked it to come here." He did not conjure the creature, but simply beckoned it to them.
 

Neith

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She listened with a soft frown. She'd felt the thrum of magic, she could smell it's taint on the air, but she'd never encountered elementals before. "Why?.." her head shook as she sat back on the edge of his bed, lifting his cup of water to him again.

"You didn't seem like you.." she told him anxiously. "Is there nothing you can do to ward yourself, to stop yourself from using magic? I'm way out of my depth, Ky. What if you can't stop next time?.."
 
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Kyril

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"I...didn't know I was doing it." It had been exactly the same as before. That strange voice taking over him, That calling echoing in the back of his mind. "I...it...I wanted to sink the ship...just lash out."

His stomach dropped as he spoke those words, a breath drawing into his lungs as he looked up at her. His eyes were filled with panic.

It was a problem, and she was right.

Lips thinned for a moment, his eyes wandering around the room. Admitting it was hard, impossible, but Neith was right. How could he stop himself from doing magic? How could he stop himself from doing anything when he fell into those odd trances.

"You..." Lips thinned. "Gag me."

He told her. "I can't cast spells without moving, without speaking."

Not in his current condition.

"Just gag me, throw me in the corner until it's done." Kyril insisted. "It's the only way."
 

Neith

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Neith huffed deeply and rubbed at her face. "Fucking hell.." she mumbled against her palms and dragged her fingers back through her hair. "Alright. Drink, and eat, and when you're going to rest I'll do it." she nodded with a frown.

"I don't remember this being so difficult when my father did it." she huffed a laugh void of amusement. "Can I do anythin' else?.."
 
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Kyril

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Kyril narrowed his eyes for a second as she mentioned her father, but didn't dig.

"Sorry." The Mage said almost meekly, knowing how much of a pain in the ass this must have been for her. In truth he had not expected it to be so complicated either. It was as though his unconscious mind were fighting him every step of the way.

His body craved Lyrum, no matter how much his mind wanted to get rid of it.

Lips thinned for a brief moment, his gaze drifting towards some of the water in the pitcher. Even though he felt thirsty drinking was...drinking seemed almost impossible. "You could punch me in the face?"

He offered.

"Just knock me out until this is over." At least then he couldn't do anything.
 

Neith

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Neith blinked at him, fighting a laugh at his words even though she knew just how serious he was. "Not what I meant.." she smirked. "I'm not punching you in the face." she told him firmly. "Though like I said before, I do have some other vials. I don't only deal in Lyrum.." she shrugged. "Offer still stands." she sighed, her gaze on the floor.

She yawned, exhausted. She could only imagine how he felt. She reached out hesitantly, settling her hand over his, trying to offer some semblance of reassurance. "It should, start to get easier soon..." she rumbled. If he survived.
 
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Kyril

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He considered it for a moment. Unconsciousness, true unconsciousness would be a welcome reprieve at this point. It would stop him from using magic, stop him from putting them in any more danger...but then again so would the gag.

Lips thinned for a moment, and he slowly shook his head. "No."

"No I can make it through this."
The statement was a questionable one, given the fact that Kyril already looked like ragged death and it would probably only get worse over the next few hours. Still, he was determined.

A breath pulled into his lungs. "I'll be alright."

He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her, or himself.
 

Neith

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She chewed idly on her lip as she considered that perhaps it would be better for him to be unconscious, but she also, selfishly perhaps, didn't want to be alone on this ship. She swallowed and nodded at his assurance, wincing in silent apology for offering in the first place.

"I have nothing left for the pain, Ky.. And you won't let me give you any of my magic, or anything else that I have. The rest of it, you'll have to deal with on your own." she frowned with concern. He looked awful, and honestly she wasn't sure if he would make it without her interference.

"Will you try to eat something, or at least drink? You'll kill yourself with dehydration if nothing else."
 
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Kyril

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Kyril nodded his head in understanding. He would be going through this, and he would feel every minute of it.

The thought made him want to vomit, but there was nothing to vomit up. Lips thinned for a moment, and he took a breath. After a few seconds he nodded his head again. "I'll eat, and drink."

He said softly.

Then she would have to gag him. It was the only way. He had no idea how long it would last, how long he would need to be tied up, but he hoped no more than a day. Perhaps it would just be one final night, and then he could start to recover.

It was a feint hope, but the only one he had.

"If the Captain comes back..." He glanced at her. "Keep that knife close."
 
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Neith

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Neith nodded and unbound his wrists after preparing him a plate of bread, meat and cheese and pouring two cups of cool water. She sat beside him, sharing her meat with the raven and listening to the thrashing storm outside, though despite it the ship felt calm.

Her gaze fell to the broken skin on his wrists and she frowned. "I'll wrap your wrists before I bind you again.." she mumbled guiltily. "With any luck, you'll be over the worst of it soon."
 
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Kyril

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Kyril nodded his head, though he barely had the energy to do so.

His body was manic in a way. Going from lethargy to spurts of strength and power. It was the lyrum he knew, or a lingering side-effect. Almost as if it were forcing his body to work overtime and burn what little life he had left.

He ate slowly, almost painfully so. He could taste none of it, but tried to at least get it down his gullet. "I hope so."

Kyril said quietly, his eyes feeling heavy.

Perhaps he'd sleep through some of it. That would be nice.

After their small meal Neith wrapped his wrists and then rebound them, pulling together a few pieces of cloth to fashion a gag. Kyril took a breath as she stood over him, nodding his head.

"Just one more night." He said quietly, taking it as a mantra. Even if it wasn't necessarily true.
 
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Neith

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Neith let out a breath and nodded at him, her gaze falling to the cloth in her hands with a quiet groan before she shuffled around him to pull it over his mouth and tie it. She looked over him for a moment as she stood at the side of his bed, a wince of apology on her face.

"I'll try to stay awake. You can rest." she nodded and bit down on her lip.

It's for the best, she told herself, and tried not to dwell on how uncomfortable she felt seeing him bound and gagged like that. She pulled his blankets around him and fluffed his pillows, trying to make him as comfortable as he could be before she wrapped her own blanket around her and settled on the chair to just, watch him.
 
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Kyril

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It didn't take long for Kyril to begin to shake.

Perhaps it was a sign he'd fallen asleep, or simply a violent craving of the drug so deeply rooted in his system. Yet the moment she laid eyes on him a quiver rushed through his body. It didn't stop for hours, not even for a second.

Muffled cries and whimpers echoed through the gag. Silent pleading and begging that sounded pitiful even through ragged cloth. His eyes squeezed shut, chest rising and falling.

In his little bed Kyril, laid.

His life a nightmare like he never could have imagined.

Pain and torture wrought long ago by his own hand wracked his body. The aches tore at his flesh, bit at his stomach, ripped him apart. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he whined quietly like a beaten dog.

Every so often he would gaze up at Neith. A silent beg for mercy.

For release or death.
 
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Neith

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Her entire body was tense as she watched him. She tried to occupy herself with anything else, cleaning, petting Rok, sketching with his quill and parchment, but every time Kyril whimpered, her eyes drifted back to the sorry sight and guilt washed over her. She couldn't stand when he looked at her like that, and her jaw clenched rather than answer him as she forced herself to look away and held her hands over her ears.

"Please just sleep..." she quietly begged and closed her eyes.
 
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Kyril

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He tried.

He tried so damn hard. His whole body hurt, screamed. It was like a thousand needles stabbing into him at the same time. They slipped beneath his flesh, piercing him, peeling away his skin and dragging away why semblance of his sanity.

It was the worst kind of torture he could have imagined.

Time seemed to slow. Stop at points. His entire world became nothing but pain and agony. Sweat poured from him and soaked his clothes. Blood vessels in his eyes burst. It felt like his whole body felt like it was ripping itself apart.

Then, finally, it passed.

Kyril didn't know if it was hours, days, or minutes.

All he felt was a sense of relief. Like something snapped and rebounded. Then he tumbled into a deep, blissful sleep. Free of nightmares, free of the aching pain.

Just sleep.
 
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Neith

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When he finally seemed to settle, Neith slowly began to ease. She was gentle as she wiped at his brow with a cool cloth, and she switched over his blanket for one that was clean and dry. Uncertain of whether or not he had come through it, she left the bounds and gag in place, and settled back onto the couch to lay down.

Her eyes blinked heavily for a few minutes before she finally relented to sleep and dozed off, though it felt like the moment she had, the door burst open and the ship's captain stormed into the room, casting his gaze wildly around the cabin. Neith shot to her feet, about to go to Kyril's bedside for the dagger, when the Captain's sword was drawn into her path.

"The fuck's goin' on? Did you kidnap this fellow??" the Captain asked, staring over Kyril incredulously before looking back to Neith and stepping toward her. "What sort of witch are you exactly?" he asked with a growl as he reached to grip her collar.

"Let go of me and get out of here or you might just find out!" she barked, but he shoved her against the wall so hard her bones rattled. Behind him, his first mate stepped into the cabin, and closed the door behind him.
 
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Kyril

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Kyril felt himself floating.

He knew it was not a dream. He knew it was not real. It was something else entirely, something that no man could have put into words. Magic? Lyrum? Death?

What had brought him to this door? What had made him come here? His eyes were open, but all that he saw was an eternal blackness. There was no light, no limit, no edge to this place. All that he could see was a vast nothingness which his mind struggled to comprehend.

Back in his bed his chest rose slowly, barely.

It shifted, and his face contorted ever so slightly.

A ripple ran over his mind, drifting, pulling across as the Captain and his First Mate stepped into the cabin. Something was wrong, but what? Kyril did not know. He could not hear, could not see. All that was there for him was the vast emptiness.

His body shook slightly, and a blue light flickered beneath his clothes as something stirred.

"What the fuck are you doin ta him?"​

The Captain demanded.

"Who the fuck are you, you little bitch?"​

His words were a hiss, uttered as the First Mate stepped behind him, glancing at Kyril with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
 

Neith

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Neith growled stubbornly, pushing back against the Captain's grip, but it was vicelike. "Nothin'! I'm nobody to be concerned about, an' I think I paid you quite enough after you agreed you'd mind your own fuckin' business." she spat before being crushed against the cabin wall a little harder.

"Go ahead and ask him." she looked to the first mate, nodding toward Kyril. "Cut his rope and gag and ask him yourself!" she frowned, her voice cracking with panic.

Wake up.
 
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Kyril

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The man hesitated for a moment, looking towards his Captain for some sort of guidance. The man holding Neith scowled, and then nodded his head.

"Do it. Cut him loose. Poor lad's probably all wrapped up by this bitch."​

Without another moment of waiting the First Mate stepped over towards Kyril and drew his knife. His hand came up, snatching the gag from Kyril's mouth.

It was felt within the Abyss.

The small ripples in the puddle grew into a wave. Rushed over him, pushed him, and then suddenly ripped him free. His eyes snapped open the instant he felt his lips freed, gaze spotting only the man with the knife above him. The brigand holding Neith against the wall.

Kyril let out an outraged cry. "Kien Fien."

What happened next was an extremely grim sight. Enough to turn the stomach. As the man stepped towards Kyril with the knife his eyes shot open, hands suddenly reached up, grabbing the man's throat. A pulse of blue light rushed over Kyril's arms.

The markings upon his flesh shifted, almost seeming to move, and then the First Mate let out a horrid screech. It was an empty sort of wailing sound, his face contorting as he suddenly dropped to the ground with a loud thud.

"LET HER GO!" His voice boomed, filled with more energy than it had any right to hold. Bound hands came together, symbols upon his hand glowing with that strange blue light.
 
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Neith

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Neith's gaze widened as she watched, her skin tingling as every hair stood on end at the thrum of magic that filled the little cabin and reverberated along her bones and caused an involuntary shudder under the captain's grip.

"What the f-- Rob!" the Captain paled, grabbing Neith from the wall and dragging her in front of him, his sword across her throat so sharp it didn't take much pressure for it to slice at her skin. She winced and tilted her chin upward, her breathing heavy with panic. "That's enough o' that lad!!" he barked, his eyes darting between Kyril and his first mate.

"Ye try anythin' an' I'll rip open her throat right here an' now - y-you understand?" he stammered and took a side step toward the door, keeping Neith in front of him.
 
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Kyril

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Kyril didn't even hesitate.

He had offered a peaceful solution. He had offered the man a way out. What more should he have done? What else could he have asked? The mage didn't take another step, didn't move towards the Captain and his companion, but instead simply brought up his fingers.

A snap rang through the cabin.

It echoed louder than it had any real right to, ringing in the ears and seeming to resound even as the storm outside rocked the ship. A blue pulse rushed over the strange markings upon his right hand, a circle within a circle intricately drawn.

Then the Captain's head simply exploded.

It burst in a spray of blood and brain, cascading over Neith, Kyril, and the little room. The man's hand falling away from Neith's throat in an instant, releasing her from the bondage of cold steel.
 
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Neith

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Neith and the captain both flinched at the loud snap. The blade pressed into her neck and had been a mere second from being run across her throat when she was blasted with blood and bone and brain, hitting her so hard it knocked her dizzy. She collapsed to the floor with a whimper as the body of the captain landed on top of her, her hands and knees slipping in the blood as she tried to pull herself free and push the weighty mass from her.

He didn't have a head. There were, lumps of his brains in her hair. His eye was right there on the floor, staring up at her. Neith screamed, and then she vomited, dragging herself across the puddle of gore to find water.
 
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Kyril

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Magic wasn't always the most subtle thing.

There had been a dozen spells he could have used in that moment. Incantations, cantrips, all of them would have taken too long. A bolt might have struck her. A lance given him enough time to rend her throat. It had been the only way.

As soon as his body dropped onto Neith the young Mage hopped forward. He dragged the corpse completely free of her. With his bound hands and feet it was still half a wobbly process, and even with the life he'd taken from the first mate it was hard to move. "Neith!"

He told her as he dragged the bucket water towards her and collapsed onto the floor.

"It's okay." He told her quickly. "I'm sorry. Its was the only way."

His words were quick, terse. "I couldn't stop him fast enough."

He wouldn't have forgiven himself if he got her killed.
 

Neith

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Neith had seen a great deal of things, she'd been wounded, seen men fight and die, seen experiments go wrong, but never had she seen anything like that. The sound it made still echoed in her ears and mind, she was half certain that she had fragments of bone in her face.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the bucket of water and she cupped two handfuls of it to throw it into her face, rinsing the fleshy chunks from her skin before pouring the whole lot over her head. She was shaking and choking on sobs as she looked up at Kyril for the first time and after a moment's hesitation she lunged for him, throwing her arms around him to hold onto him as tightly as she could.

"Thank you."
 
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