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westwhere2021-03-27 06:48 pm
groundrules) wrote in westwhere2021-03-27 06:48 pm
sa-hareth | arrival (mingle log)
WHO: Everyone ever + the local Sa-hareth squad.
WHEN: Arc I: Sa-Hareth arrival.
WHERE: Sa-Hareth citadel, salt mine, the old jailhouse,
WHAT: Our intrepid heroes get commandeered into the frosty unknown.
WARNINGS: the glorious undead, background House of Dew mentions, at least one person's terrible sense of humour.
no subject
"Well, you're not wrong," Archeval observes with another dry glance.
"...Those creatures are here inside the city limits, as well. I'm not certain if they are sapient as such, but it seems some of them are commanded by the powers that be around here. That conqueror we were told about, I suppose," he says with a shrug and a slightly rude snort.
In short order, however, Eleven's self-appointed fussy nursemaid is rising to leave him to himself for a while, returning after a couple of minutes with more water, a bowl of the same dubious porridge, and a couple small towels slung over one arm. He sets it all down carefully before tucking the last items into Eleven's hands; one towel is dry, the other has been dunked into pleasantly warm water.
"To tide you over."
It's at least enough for Eleven to wash his face a bit, if not much else. Arche sits back after that to finish his food and apparently watch the progress of the rest of the group they came in with as well, leaving Eleven to his own devices for a while.
no subject
As expected, the food isn't anything wonderful, but it's warm and eases off the worst of his hunger. By the time he's finished, he feels steadier and relatively certain he'll be able to keep his legs if he tries to stand. Still, he'll give himself a few more minutes to be sure because if he falls, he expects the subsequent lecture will be swift and sharp.
In the meantime, he turns his attention back to Archeval. The man looks markedly better, if still a bit worn, but he imagines most of them will yet need some time to fully recover from their trek.
"Thank you again, for everything." For looking after him, even when he's clearly no longer in immediate danger. "I won't forget it."
no subject
Swift and sharp indeed -- Eleven has most certainly already got Archeval's number as the other man surreptitiously glances back to watch his progress here and there even now. At those words of gratitude, though, he just gives an awkward grimace and a little one-armed shrug. In better light and better circumstances at last, Eleven can finally see what he's looking at a little better -- a human like any he might find back home, dark hair, green eyes, a single little braid bumping against the side of one cheek. For all his talk of stars and planets, he looks remarkably ordinary.
"I believe I said before, I would hardly give our foe the satisfaction of letting anyone die out in that pit," he sniffs, affecting some kind of indignance as he scrapes at the last dregs of the meal in his bowl.
"And you more than did your part in turn. I suppose now the next order of business after some more rest is starting to figure out the whys and wherefores of this damnable place--..."
His eye seems caught by something as he speaks, though, and after a second he's peering straight over at that mark on the back of Eleven's hand.
"...Oh. Interesting. Was that there before you got here?"
He hadn't personally noticed any new and unwelcome marks on himself while he'd been bathing, but then it hadn't exactly occurred to him to look.
no subject
But he blinks back to attention when the man shifts his own, eyes on the back of his hand.
"Ah, yes," he says, resisting the urge to fidget. "It isn't new."
The thing of it is, he's not sure it means anything anymore. But for all his ignorance of Yggdrasil, his companion doesn't look terribly foreign. Perhaps he'd simply grown up somewhere remote, where She wasn't visible.
"Erdwin's Lantern," he tries, seeking Archeval's reaction. "The red star where the spirit of the Luminary of Legend has kept watch over Erdrea since the Age of Heroes."
no subject
Blink. Eleven just gets a thoughtfully non-comprehending frown in return, though Arche seems at least receptive.
"So that is a... tattoo? Implant? Ritual marking of some sort?" He takes a couple wild guesses, stroking his chin for a moment with a raised brow and a certain scholarly interest to his expression. "Inspired by... local legends, I take it...? Or perhaps something a bit less legendary and more practical." Of anybody else in this room, he might be the most well aware that 'ancient legend' and 'practical reality' aren't always mutually exclusive.
no subject
"Birthmark," he supplies with a faint smile, then hesitates as he searches for a base explanation for someone that wouldn't know what his title means. That in itself is something of a relief, if he's honest. "It- it represents a power I was born with. But ah, that doesn't mean anything now."
no subject
"A power?... I see. It might still again before long," Arche shrugs, and then gives a disgruntled grimace. "Hopefully, at any rate. Whatever we've been dosed with must wear off eventually--..."
The alternative doesn't bear thinking about right now, so he moves right along from that. It's an interesting idea, at any rate -- he's never heard tell of something like the Force manifesting so strongly in a person that they bore a physical mark from it, but there are many planets and many strange phenomena in the galaxy...
"So. You are marked with the symbol of... what sounds like your home culture's deity? Why do I have a feeling that this has something to do with the mission that ended in you captured in hostile territory surrounded by slavering monsters? That does always seem to be how these things go," he reflects in a bone-dry drawl.
no subject
Eleven picks at one of the blackened holes in his clothing. "If that's true, then you must also have a light to be extinguished."
no subject
There's a pause, a vaguely surprised blink, and -- briefly Archeval laughs. Brow furrowed, low and a little ironic.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. But I can think of many who would disagree with you."
There's almost no chance that Eleven has heard of the Force or the Sith, he imagines, and certainly the man can't know about the Dark Side or the Light Side or his new acquaintance's opinions on any of those subjects, but-- his heart gives a little bit of a flip anyway. In his position, those aren't words that a person ever wants to be accused of.
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"I guess we can't know for sure." But it feels right; he's almost certain of it. In the wake of that certainty comes the dreaded feeling of being hunted once more. "We just have to survive this so we can return."
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"Surviving is certainly the plan," Arche agrees, dusting his hands a bit as he rises to start tidying the space around them, gathering used bowls and cups and towels.
"I should leave you to recuperate, though. I've no idea what the rest of this lot plan to do next or anything of the sort, so I suppose I may venture out and hear what I can hear. I will find you if there is some sort of news."
no subject
He gathers up his set of clothes and slowly pushes himself to stand. It feels like victory when he doesn't immediately feel dizzy. Once he's bathed and slept off the remains of his exhaustion, he plans to make an effort to come to know the others.
"Don't push yourself too much," he can't help parroting with a thread of humor. "Or I'll have to look after you instead."
no subject
Archeval just gives a snort at that as he glances over his shoulder.
"Perish the thought," he drawls out in return. "Surviving is what I do best, I can assure you. Rest up, Eleven."
And, after watching the other's progress just a moment longer, he'll take his leave at last.