Private Tales Wrapped in the Wyrms Coil

[Fieravene]

She recounted the last steps taken here with the trade caravan, en route to meet Medja with several gifts. The tree of life, a new servant, and a crown of green. It felt just yesterday, though by now it had been several years. What was several years to someone who lived as long as she? Such a short period of time.

In the gloom her crimson eyes cast a baleful glow. No torch was needed to guide her through the black and she may have very well become one with it were she not playing guide to another.

"Come," said her voice, once a few steps before him but now suddenly beside him, her hand finding his own and intertwining their fingers - her own far smaller and more delicate than his. "Can't have you wandering off in the darkness."

The pit of an Eldar God's belly was fathomless. Made for a good holiday, though.

"This way..." Fi tugged him on deeper into the dark until they found themselves in a long hallway where the floor dipped, yawed, and seemed to slowly sway beneath them.

"It has been some time since our last chat. What does a rudderless Vizier do with such doldrums?"

 

[Ashuanar]

He found himself, rather, quite content to follow after her, his hand in hers, his path quite clearly at her mercy. As one who led so many, it was a welcome reprieve from the weight of responsibility, regardless of the outcome.

He trusted Fieravene - that much was true. But what he trusted her to do? That was a little different.

Incur harm? No, or... not out of malevolence. But what real harm is there in that which only heals stronger?

This way she urged. He hadn't noticed his hesitation - but it did linger. Ashuanar was renowned for his ability to preserve himself. Not a coward, not terribly hesitant once committed, but shrewd. There was something about this place that ebbed at his very being. It urged him to turn, and make his way back out. But... something within him told him that, by now, it was far too late for this.

A rudderless Vizier? He found the phrase somewhat humourous, given his escapades of late.

"They lose their way, for a time..." he looked about the darkness, almost as though her perceived through it, "...but find that they are bound to a purpose. There is a choice, they must remain, or they must disappear."

 

[Fieravene]

They walked together, hand-in-hand, on and on. The ground beneath their feet undulating in a manner not unlike churning waves in a restless sea. Fieravene closed her eyes as he spoke, tall and pointed ears drinking in the sound of his voice, dark figure all but melding into the blackness that swallowed them.

"Hoist the anchor," she said, though the tone was not immediately apparent on whether it was a suggestion or a command. Her eyes opened once more as her footfalls came to an abrupt stop. Fiera's hand gave his a squeeze and her arm stiffened against the grip for him to follow suit.

"The sea will take you where you need to be."

Her other hand lifted to his bicep and informed pointed pressure to follow. Fieravene began to walk backwards, "Don't look back to where you've been. It's not there anymore."

 

[Ashuanar]

The poetry of her words were not lost to him. He'd lived them. Breathed them.

Salt in the air.

Listless crashing against a hardened hull.

Far from aimless.

Her gestures were confusing to him, and in the dark - as much as he wished it to be different - he was blind to what she knew, to what she saw. And yet backwards he stepped. That which was passed was no longer, its not there anymore.

So where then, did he travel so blindly into? The past was not, and yet into difference did he back himself into. The place whence he came no longer the same.

Nothing was the same.

"If it is not, then what is now?"

 

[Fieravene]

If he recalled the deep rumbling from earlier in the night that had echoed eerily across the dune landscape, he would experience it once more but this far much closer to home. Around them the hallway began to vibrate and shake as what felt to be an earthquake of tremendous magnitude overtook the area. Beyond just the heave of earth around them, a distant groaning shivered within the air and rattled the bones beneath flesh.

Fiera's steps had halted as she planted her feet to steady against the tremors, "Oblivion," she spoke loudly through the horrendous din of noise as the groaning shifted into a raucous roar, "paradise, eternity, the Dreamscape-" a final shudder nearly toppled the elf and she caught herself against the wall at the last minute.

The quaking settled as quickly as it had begun and the roar faded into a distant droning that had likely been heard all the way to Annuakat.

The dark elf loosed a sigh and straightened, dusting debris from the black of her ensemble, "Take your pick. I cannot begin to know what your desires will create here."