This... had been a very odd few days, and more than ever he wished he had Jaenelle to talk to. Well maybe not more than ever. That time when she had been missing when they were kids...
He shook that off and gave a mischievous smile to whoever was near. At least he'd have plenty of tales for the Coven and less edited ones for the boyos over many a long cold night after this. He chose to focus on that. To focus, as he often did, on amusing ways to make small amounts of mischief rather on the harsher realities of the moment...
Back in the cave, locked to Sonya "Mother Night," he muttered under his breath. How many more times was this going to happen? Was the Tangled Web breaking down? was that why memories were mixing and overlapping? This one hadn't felt as... close. As personal. Did that mean it was being repaired? Was this a good sign that rescue was on its way or...
Did it mean all their minds were snapping under the weight of the constant psychic onslaught?
He knew Sonya was there with him again, but he had to do this, had to hope. He would appologize to her after, if it bothered her. Blood sometimes bothered Landens, and being ignored, even for a moment, sometimes bothered anyone.
He called in a knife from the kitchen and used it to make a small cut in one finger. He lifted the bleeding finger to the air.
"A prayer, offered in blood, to the Darkness," he said softly, the words having the feeling of ritual. His blue eyes closed as he focused inward, as he gathered his power, descending as fast as he could to the depth of the Sapphire. Then, using he blood as a focus he sent his power through the blood and beyond, keeping his aim tight, trying desperately to reach one specific mind. *Jaenelle,* he sent the name as a plea in silence. Spear to Distaff the thought flew.
But as always since arriving here, there was nothing where that dark, sharp, wonderful mind should be.
"And like shall call to like," he whispered, desperate, "and Blood shall be memory's river."
He stood still, as though the slightest motion could break him, focusing trying. For years he had tried when she was missing, locked deep within herself, within the Abyss. They all had. And now he was trying again, but this time he was the one locked away within his own mind, and nothing reached back for him.
After a long painful moment, a tear sliding down his face, he slumped like a pupped with his strings cut. The knife vanished as he landed as if on a mattress, though there was only air beneath him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. They were the first words he had offered to Sonya and he offered them like a man defeated.
After - OTA
Khary wasn't usually the broody sort. He wasn't. But he'd be sitting near a small fire he made at the perimeter, staring into the flames as he sipped something clearly alcoholic. A makeshift bandage was around one finger.
Khary - partially OTA
This... had been a very odd few days, and more than ever he wished he had Jaenelle to talk to. Well maybe not more than ever. That time when she had been missing when they were kids...
He shook that off and gave a mischievous smile to whoever was near. At least he'd have plenty of tales for the Coven and less edited ones for the boyos over many a long cold night after this. He chose to focus on that. To focus, as he often did, on amusing ways to make small amounts of mischief rather on the harsher realities of the moment...
Back in the cave, locked to Sonya
"Mother Night," he muttered under his breath. How many more times was this going to happen? Was the Tangled Web breaking down? was that why memories were mixing and overlapping? This one hadn't felt as... close. As personal. Did that mean it was being repaired? Was this a good sign that rescue was on its way or...
Did it mean all their minds were snapping under the weight of the constant psychic onslaught?
He knew Sonya was there with him again, but he had to do this, had to hope. He would appologize to her after, if it bothered her. Blood sometimes bothered Landens, and being ignored, even for a moment, sometimes bothered anyone.
He called in a knife from the kitchen and used it to make a small cut in one finger. He lifted the bleeding finger to the air.
"A prayer, offered in blood, to the Darkness," he said softly, the words having the feeling of ritual. His blue eyes closed as he focused inward, as he gathered his power, descending as fast as he could to the depth of the Sapphire. Then, using he blood as a focus he sent his power through the blood and beyond, keeping his aim tight, trying desperately to reach one specific mind. *Jaenelle,* he sent the name as a plea in silence. Spear to Distaff the thought flew.
But as always since arriving here, there was nothing where that dark, sharp, wonderful mind should be.
"And like shall call to like," he whispered, desperate, "and Blood shall be memory's river."
He stood still, as though the slightest motion could break him, focusing trying. For years he had tried when she was missing, locked deep within herself, within the Abyss. They all had. And now he was trying again, but this time he was the one locked away within his own mind, and nothing reached back for him.
After a long painful moment, a tear sliding down his face, he slumped like a pupped with his strings cut. The knife vanished as he landed as if on a mattress, though there was only air beneath him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. They were the first words he had offered to Sonya and he offered them like a man defeated.
After - OTA
Khary wasn't usually the broody sort. He wasn't. But he'd be sitting near a small fire he made at the perimeter, staring into the flames as he sipped something clearly alcoholic. A makeshift bandage was around one finger.