̶W̶R̶A̶T̶H̶I̶O̶N̶ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blackscales) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
westwhere2022-01-23 09:32 pm
blackscales) wrote in westwhere2022-01-23 09:32 pm
[ 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.
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.
no subject
Anduin has many questions himself. So many questions. Somewhere near the top of the list is what exactly Wrathion had been thinking -- although Anduin supposes he already knows. Of course he had been curious. Anduin had been curious himself, although not enough to give that door anything of himself. Which begs another question...
Wrathion's wish. It seems too personal a question to ask so directly, so for the moment he simply lets him speak, frowning along with his words.
"You did not recognize them?" Anduin hazards, hoping the answer is no. He had not noticed anyone missing from their group, but he does not know if he would have been able to tell if they were. Unconsciously, he shifts a little closer towards Wrathion.
no subject
A pause.
"I suspect they had been there for some time, and will continue to be so."
All just a theory, and the exact sequence of events is still hidden to him -- but the shape of it is there. Nothing, he suspects, dies in Ellethia. What sent them into that sleep he does not know, but that state seems like one they may be doomed to stay in if it cannot be... undone somehow.
If they cannot be woken.
What of the consequence, though? Troubling.
no subject
"Did you see anything else?" Anduin pushes, before shaking his head. "No -- I. Forgive me. I do not mean to... It's just that." He hesitates, turning very concerned blue eyes back to Wrathion again.
"You were inconsolable, Wrathion, and I. I need something..." Now that he has recovered, he cannot bear the thought of Wrathion pushing him away and shutting him out, now that whatever danger has passed.
no subject
It's not quite the word Wrathion himself would have chosen, but he can see why the priest chose it.
"It wasn't something I saw," he admits finally, brow furrowing a little. How to explain it. "I'm not entirely sure what the source was, if it was the sleepers themselves or the... enchantment on the door. I reached out to one of them while I was inside, and found their sleep... restless. Whatever nightmares they were having, they were distraught. It unsettled me enough that I went to leave, and as I left and began to feel... similar."
no subject
"Did you dream?" he asks, uncertainly. "Hallucinate? Or was it just their distress that passed to you?"
He pauses, searching Wrathion's face for a long moment before he continues. "I do not know how much you remember of that time. I tried to help, tried to break you out of it, but. Whatever had its grasp over you was -- unnatural. In the end, I could only do so much..."
He tries not to let that bother him, but it's fairly clear that it does either way.
no subject
"It was a feeling, an... understanding. I asked to understand what happened, and I suppose I did get that wish granted -- either purposefully or accidentally."
Wrathion flicks a wan smile, lowers his eyes away to where his hands rest on the sheets.
"The details faded as the terror did, but... I know that these people wished to live, and I cannot help but wonder if those laying asleep had that wish granted. If they will now never die."
no subject
Anduin cannot help reaching for Wrathion, laying a hand over his on the bed, although whether he is doing so to comfort Wrathion or himself is not exactly clear.
"I am glad that it did. Fade," Anduin specifies. "Even if you have lost some of the understanding that you wished to achieve, the consequences were..." Anduin's expression pinches slightly, searching Wrathion's face for a long moment before continuing softly, "Your health and well-being is more important than that, Wrathion. That door, the wishes you must give up to enter... There is danger in such things." As they both have just witnessed.
no subject
Of course it is dangerous, Wrathion understood that even before he interacted with it. He thought he had picked a wish that couldn't backfire, but perhaps he should have known better. Magic can easily twist the simplest of desires.
"I am aware," he says simply, "but there is danger in not understanding this place too."
On balance, it had felt worth the risk to try.
no subject
Anduin can feel Wrathion tensing underneath his touch, and so he retracts his hand once more, moving to clasp both of his own in his lap. He had not meant to scold, or to come off as such. He's just. Worried. Concerned. The attack that Wrathion had suffered had seemed to last forever, and the fact that he could barely do anything to help...
This should not be about him. Wrathion seems fine. He is awake and alert, and he is no longer under the effects of whatever the wish had done to him. He should be glad of that.
"You are not alone in this anymore, Wrathion," Anduin points out. "You do not owe me anything, of course. But I would ask you tell me of your plans the next time. I only wish to help."
no subject
Would Anduin have been able to help, had Wrathion told him? He had not known what was going to happen, had not known how he would be impacted. There is no way they could have prepared for this. If anything, there would have been a danger that Anduin would have accompanied him inside, that he might have been rendered similarly incoherent.
Still. Anduin had asked him such a thing once before.
Tell me what's going on. We can work together. We can find some way to--
He moves his hands to knit fingers together. They feel cold suddenly, although that might just be the loss of Anduin's warm touch.
Not alone in this anymore.
"You are right," he says finally. "If I had been more fully incapacitated it would have left you alone here, in danger. I should have considered that."
Was his goal not to keep Anduin safe? He should be more careful, with that in mind.
no subject
"That isn't--" Anduin starts, sharply, before stopping himself, pressing his lips together tightly and sucking in a deep breath through his nose.
"By the Light, Wrathion, I don't know how much more plainly I can say that I was worried for you. For you. Not because I need you around as a bodyguard or some sort of protector. You are important to me, as a companion. As a friend. I care about you, and if anything worse might have happened back there--...!"
Anduin cuts himself off again, feeling as though he has already said too much.
no subject
Important to him. As a companion. A friend.
His stomach clenches uncomfortably, a weight pressing on his chest. Not as bad as when he'd been struggling in the stairwell, not enough to have him gasping for air, but there all the same.
Anduin has assured him they are friends once before, but he has also -- quite recently -- struck him in the face.
My father is DEAD because of you!
The priest had made his mood quite clear, then. Wrathion was not forgiven. His presence was barely tolerated.
Yet all the same, the warmth Anduin offers now is... alluring. Wrathion yearns to accept it, for things to go back to how they were on Pandaria before the trial. For them to be comfortable with one another, close enough to tease each other and laugh together. The temptation has already been there, more than once. Wrathion has let his guard down, has sat and consoled the young man. Expressed his fears to him.
Anduin's mortal lifespan will be nothing compared to Wrathion's, which makes it feel all the more important to value what time they have. Yet all the same, there is a danger. Black dragons cannot be hurt by fire, but they can be torn apart by guilt and grief easily enough.
The lines in the sand between them are being blurred, and Wrathion is not certain where to step.
"It was a calculated risk," he manages carefully. "I was confident I would survive the experience without permanent damage."
no subject
Anduin feels the backs of his eyes burn and he does not know whether it is out of anguish or frustration. Perhaps, he supposes upon reflection, it may be some combination of the both. Regardless, he cannot sit here and continue to argue this point. Here in this room, where he had fought to drag Wrathion to safety. Where he and Hermione had done their best to try and soothe his fears and calm his nerves, and nothing seemed to be enough.
He is so tired of feeling like he will never be enough.
Anduin sits back in his seat, his face closing off tight.
"Of course," he says, his own voice very carefully neutral. "You nearly transformed in the middle of that staircase, but. No. I suppose you were right. No permanent damage done."
He moves to push himself to stand. "You should get some rest."
no subject
There it is.
Anduin has always had a sharp tongue, when he wants to. Wrathion supposes it was only a matter of time before he felt it, yet still. He had hoped it might not be so soon. It is perhaps a small blessing he managed to keep his temper this curtailed this time.
Still, Wrathion's fingers subtly tighten over each other as Anduin moves to stand. He's clearly upset him, but what would be the right thing to say? Should he have simply thanked him, agreed to tell him next time? Yet Wrathion is loathe to making promises he may be unable to keep. If he believed Anduin would try to help and become hurt, he would not want to tell him. If he believed Anduin would stop him, but that his choice would protect Anduin, then he also would not want to tell him.
Anduin is offering him his friendship, his help, but Wrathion is unclear how much of it. Is unclear if he is still working toward forgiveness, if he is trusted yet without suspicion, if boundaries are still in place that he cannot see.
It is difficult to trust if you do not believe you are trusted in turn.
"So should you," Wrathion points out. "Do not exhaust yourself."
There may be plenty of concerns here, of people Anduin wishes to help, but he cannot help them if he drives himself into the ground.
no subject
There's anger too. Which isn't nearly as comfortable a feeling for Anduin, a pacifist. A priest. An anger and frustration he can feel clawing at his chest, up his throat, and he knows if he does not force himself to leave then he will say or do something he may regret.
And so he does. Turning on his heel, Anduin forces himself to walk out the door without so much as another word.
But he will not rest easy. Not for a long while, at least.