westwhere | [ CLOSED ] The door locked from the outside

WHO: Wrathion, Anduin, Hermione
WHEN: End of January
WHERE: Ellethia’s ghostly lighthouse
WHAT: Failing to outsmart a wish spell
WARNINGS: Wrathion has an extended panic attack, it is described!

Every day, Zenobius spends several hours on the 11th floor.

Every day, Wrathion's curiosity grows.

The lighthouse is a strange place, much like all of Ellethia is, and he has yet to fully pin down its mysteries. The building's sphere of influence is quite immense, and its draw seems to fade once you are safely within it -- making it hard to pinpoint the exact source. Is it the lighthouse itself? Something under the ground, or in it? Is it only sentient mortals who hear the call, or are animals drawn to it?

The mystery might be answered, of course, by the 11th floor of the lighthouse itself. Its main entrance is locked via some sort of enchantment that appears to be operated by touch, if the palm mechanism is anything to go by. The sign next to it asks those who enter what they wish for, and a scratched warning underneath advises against entering.

Ominous, yet Wrathion remains curious.

The consequences cannot be lethal: Zenobius may be addled but he still lives, patrolling the lighthouse and entering and exiting this room every day.

Perhaps, then the trick is in choosing the right wish. Nothing too personal, nothing too vulnerable? Something that cannot be turned against him?

Wrathion mulls this over a long time, considering it at length before he gives in to the temptation. He is, after all, a dragon. Whatever spell is on it, surely it cannot do him much harm?

He palms the entry mechanism and offers: I wish I understood what happened here.

It's an honest wish, and the door lets him in. The room inside is not quite what he expected. Sleeping figures with healed injuries, seemingly unaware of his presence. He paces the room, curious, then pauses to approach one of them. The sleep seems deep, the figure outwardly peaceful.

Still, a creature who cannot be woken is not guaranteed to be at peace. Wrathion hesitates, then reaches out to one.

He withdraws quickly, shaken, and makes for the exit to the room.

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She would whirl around towards Anduin with a reprimand if the space allowed it, but there's a familiar person going through a very familiar breakdown, and Hermione's still holding onto said person's shoulder.

So she assumes the glow is a Lumos-sort of spell, and doesn't check what - if anything - she feels through the magic flooding the stairwell. Instead:

"He's having a panic attack," she cuts Anduin off, impatiently, a little bit harsh to boot. "And people having one generally can't give you lengthy detail of what happened and what they saw, as that point is not important."

Softening her expression, she turns her attention towards Wrathion. "Listen to my voice, okay? I'll guide you to some breathing - follow my counting, yes?"

Anduin's expression pinches slightly in response to Hermione's reprimand, though the harsh note of impatience in it lessens something of Anduin's own panic that has been building within himself.

A panic attack.

Anduin is not unfamiliar with the concept of them, given the amount of pressure he has faced from the burdens in his own life. But Wrathion... He has never seen him so affected by anything. Granted, he would also never allow himself to be seen so affected, but to be caught in such a state in the middle of the tower?

And -- the Light. It had not made a dent in the tension thrumming through Wrathion at all. Which... Isn't right at all. Something is wrong.

Anduin supposes that joining in to echo Hermione's sentiments will do more harm than good, but he turns back toward their companion with a frown, shifting his hold on Wrathion's arm to a softer touch (but not entirely releasing his grip).

"We are here for you," he says, gently.

It's difficult to focus much on what is going on, so the minor dispute goes somewhat over Wrathion's head.

A shame, because he'd be delighted to have witnessed someone reprimanding Anduin Wrynn.

The glow, at least, he does recognise. The Light finds no injury to heal, no damage to Wrathion's person, but although it does nothing to drain his tension it does momentarily allow him to stand a little better.

Mostly because his legs are holding him with a burst of renewed strength, and because between them Anduin and Hermione are propping him up a little.

His head hurts still, and he feels dizzy. These are problems for future Wrathion. Current Wrathion still doesn't want to be in an open space. He shoots Anduin an uneasy look, then rests his gaze on Hermione a moment. Breathing? Counting? He can't quite work out what any of this is meant to mean, but either way it's a no from him. He shakes his head, and immediately makes another weak attempt to move away down the stairwell again. His legs don't immediately give way this time, but his balance is still off.

Considering the paths life took her and her friends down on, should it be any surprise that Hermione has breathing techniques memorised to push back panic attacks? Especially when they were carrying the locket horcrux, they came in handy for herself. She has read about them - she read about them in the summer leading up to stealing her parents' memories, knowing pragmatically that this act alone would have her battling with a lot of emotions - so she knows what she's doing.

Not that she has a chance to do it. Wrathion insists on moving, which is so frustrating. And so typical - he's probably the type who won't accept help from anyone, for fear of appearing weak.

(Harry.)

"Okay," she forces out in a tense voice: "You want to get to the bottom of the stairwell first? Because we'll help you, but you have you let us."

Wrathion may not be able to speak aloud, but there are whole sentences said in the look that he shoots Anduin, before he turns away and tries to force his way further down the stairs. Several different emotions war within him at once as he jerks forward himself, doing his best to keep a tight grip on Wrathion's arm lest he topple head-first down the staircase in front of them -- the absolute last thing they need right now.

Speaking of stairs. There are quite a lot of them. To help him all the way down to the first floor, from the eleventh... Feels awfully precarious. Anduin tries to think fast on his feet.

"Hermione," he begins. "Perhaps it might be best to find a quiet space first?" He tightens his grip on Wrathion's arm for a moment, a gesture of support. "Somewhere closer at hand, with a bit less...traffic?"

The (relative) ease of movement doesn't last long. Wrathion finds the lingering warmth of the Light beginning to fade from him, and as it does his so does his ability to stay upright.

His ears feel like they're ringing, heart racing harder and harder. His breaths are still coming too fast, and as he tries to force himself down the stairs the dizziness is getting worse. He can hear Hermione saying something tense, and Anduin's hand tightening on his arm, but he can't quite focus on the words.

Between them, they're both very close to him. He feels crowded, frustrated, anxious. He needs to get out of here, needs --

Wrathion makes a weak attempt to shake them both off, and lets out a low warning growl. It's a deep sound, something that seems as if it's echoing in the cavernous chest of a large creature -- not a human.

That sound rumbles, the way no human growl of frustration manages to, and Hermione falters in her stubborn attempt to outstubborn Wrathion, surprised by it.

She looks to Anduin for guidance, nodding. "Alright - I know where the empty rooms are. Come, I can transfigure us a seating area."

Anduin recognizes the sound of the dragon's growl, deep and low, vibrating right through Anduin's own chest. It is a warning sound for several reasons. One, because Wrathion is demonstrating his discomfort. Two, because they really don't need Wrathion growing any more uncomfortable and then potentially transforming on them. A panicked dragon in the middle of a tower staircase is the last thing that they need just now.

Anduin shoots Hermione an appreciative glance, nodding quickly.

"Please. Yes, that sounds for the best, yes?" He turns back to Wrathion, reaching for him again, calling again on the Light since that had seemed to have helped at least a little before. "Wrathion. Come with us, let us get you somewhere safe."

The gentle wash of Light magic is enough to help Wrathion's legs hold him for a brief moment, and also gets him just enough strength once more to begin trying to free himself of both of them. The upside of this is that he is, indeed, moving in the right direction. The downside is he's trying to do so independently of Hermione and Anduin, with limited success. Wrathion struggles forward, with the stubborn determination of someone who will do something on their own or die trying, and braces himself with one hand against the wall as he tries to descend the stairwell.

The process has been too slow so far, clearly he can do better himself.

Unfortunately, the stairwell itself is... moving, or more accurately his vision is not as steady as he would like. One of his feet nearly misses a step, and his weight goes fully against one of his companions with another low growl of discontent.

[ CLOSED ] The door locked from the outside

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