westwhere | [OPEN] words engraved in the sand

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[OPEN] words engraved in the sand

WHO: Eleven and every OPEN
WHEN: Travel month
WHERE: On the road to Taravast~
WHAT: All the things
WARNINGS: blood rain, and mention of sickness (thanks Xie Lian)

1. Riding Tips?

Eleven doesn't consider himself an expert on many things, but having won a few notable horse races, he feels somewhat obligated to approach anyone looking out of their depth when it comes to their mounts.

"Hey." He does his best to temper the amusement in his eyes and tone. "I might be able to help you, if you'd like."

2. Sick

Whatever enjoyment he'd gleaned from that first day of travel was swiftly lost that evening over dinner, and through the course of the day immediately following. Face pale and his expression tight with discomfort, Eleven fought down bouts of queasiness with the singular focus of not getting sick all over his horse.

Later, as the sun began to set, he brought his horse up to the nearest person he recognized and pitched his voice to a low almost-whisper lacking all usual vigor.

"..Have you heard when we're stopping?"

3. Camp

Once he's more or less recovered from his bout of illness, Eleven sets about camp with a familiar smile and eagerness to help. Setting up tents, supply distribution, relaying messages and with the self-appointed task of helping look after their collection of elk, horses, and donkeys.

Then with his non-toxic dinner in hand, he seeks out a familiar face to settle next to.

"Mind if I join you?"

4. Watch

He'd been forced to opt out of shifts for the nights he spent recovering from his illness, but determined to make up for it, Eleven signed himself up for every night thereafter.

Between the mists and the harpies, accompanied by the occasional voice on the wind, there is plenty to be watchful of.

"The horses are getting nervous," he observes with a frown and a will to go to them. Their ears twitch, hooves pawing at the ground on occasion.

"Do you think we should check...?"

5. Tar Collection

It isn't pleasant work, shoveling tar into barrels. Stepping in it, getting it all over his gloves and boots; black, stuck ink that enjoys staining everything it touches. He takes to wearing his cloak to cover his travel wear while he works, at peace at least with the idea that every ounce of muck they pried out of the waters would help the nearby plants and wildlife.

And well, after turning all his leftover coin to Wei Wuxian for supplies again, Eleven is looking forward to possibly having coin enough to treat himself to a good meal once they finally reach the city.

Sometimes, he thinks he sees something in the murk; an odd latticework of shadow reflecting back at him. After a few occasions of this over the days, he finally dredges up the nerve to ask:

"Is there... something in there, you think?"

6. First blood rain

The rain came unexpected, late into the night. He'd been certain there weren't clouds enough for rain. The wetness was expected, but then after, the smell and odd warmth, the thickness of it-

Eleven lifted a hand and smeared it like ink between his fingers, then called up a brief flame to examine it by.

"This can't really be-"

Heart in his throat, he snuffed the flicker of fire and let a new chill soak through him as he glanced wildly about for a source while it soaked into his hair and slid down his scalp. He couldn't suppress a grimace, or the shudder that accompanied it as the nausea from his previous illness threatened to resurface. His voice, taking a turn for distress as nothing seems to stand out.

"What is happening?"

7. Wildcard!

[ooc: hmu with anything adjacent to these prompts, or anything else that suits this travel time! feel free to pm/plurk if you'd like to work out anything in particular]

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Hendrik was impressed by the Luminary's persistence though when the boy was sick he worried. Of course, he couldn't show that, but his voice had gotten softer when speaking and he gave the boy a little more room at those times.

There had been more than a few times that he wanted to pick him up and carry him off to bed to rest, but he knew that would only prove to embarrass him in front of his friends and putting on a brave face was best. Soldiering through illness worked as he'd done it himself countless times. Still, he wasn't Erdrea's saviour like this boy was. He was the light and the hope that had faced and vanquished the evil that was Mordegon. And secretly he would be delighted when the powers of the World Tree rightfully returned to him.

Tonight he felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing up and his blue eyes shifted. His ever present mad face turned even more so as he heard the horses moving around. Back home his own horse Obsidian had alerted him to danger more than once, and saved their skins more than a dozen times in doing so.

Missing his horse and companion now, he gazed down at the Luminary and nodded at the question. "Animals can sometimes sense danger ahead of us." His words recollected his horse in his mind yet again. "So we should indeed check, but make sure you have your sword at the ready."

Moran, never one to be needlessly sociable if he can avoid it, has mostly kept to himself during their travels. Being on horseback most of the day is not a huge burden in that he can do it just fine, but he'd just rather be doing anything else but that. The climate is harsh, they are being surrounded by wild beasts and ghosts, and people, all the time. There is no way to just break away from the group or regroup, which for someone like him is taxing, and reminiscent of some of his worst days at court.

This in turn is why he is able to summon a mostly graceful smile when someone comes looking for company. There is no need to snap at the young ones, they have done nothing wrong.

".... Have a seat."

Xie Lian really is very sorry that his cooking seems to have made so many people feel poorly. he's still not sure what was wrong with it, he ate all of his portions and it was fine....

He's been travelling mostly on foot, yet keeping pace with the animals with no trouble. occasionally he'll hitch a ride on the back of a cart when people take one loo at him and pity him.

He shakes his head at the question.

"... Are you feeling a little better?"

Eleven nodded, moving into familiar pathing around the caravan and gradually circling over to the area where the animals were kept. Despite Hendrik's advice, he kept his swords sheathed, not wanting to further spook the horses and lose the source of whatever disturbance it was that was making them uneasy.

He offered quiet shushing as he drew near in an effort to soothe while his eyes sought out anything off about their vicinity. He spread his senses, though knowing it wouldn't do him a great deal more than tell him that the horses, elk, and donkeys were a lot of living creatures. Death and darkness didn't seem to be nearby- not from unfamiliar sources, anyway.

"..Do you see anything?"

Eleven settled down with a grateful smile. Though his feelings about the man had complicated since they'd first met, after having been through the siege together, a part of him was just glad to see the people he recognized looking alive and well.

He spent a few moments simply tucking into his bowl with a few mild, assessing hums, ensuring nothing felt or tasted off before he relaxed enough to make conversation.

"It looks like they aren't letting Xie Lian near the food again," he remarked with a grin. "I don't know that it was wholly his fault, but I can't argue that their caution isn't warranted."

"Um," Eleven offers while he turns his focus inward for an internal assessment of how he feels now versus how he'd felt at first. He'd like to be able to say yes, if only to alleviate Xie Lian's feelings about the matter, but neither is he given to lie.

"Well, I'm not retching so much as before."

So far as standards go, it isn't a high bar, but it's something.

Hendrik had his Axe strapped to his back and waited in one place. His ears detected movement but when his head turned to follow there seemed to be nothing more than a few animals lurking not too far from the perimeter of light that they could see by.

Silently he shook his head and kept searching. If anything he would rather know if there were any foes out there and of course how many. But those sorts of things would be found out soon enough if they were attacked. So far nothing seemed intent on infiltrating the camp.

Sighing, the tall knight moved his head from side to side, but it was amounting to nothing more than some rustling in the woods that seemed would come to naught. Still, he had to keep up his guard.

"It almost seems to be too quiet."

At first, Xingchen had been set on traveling by foot. It's what he's done most of his life and it's what he's found to be the safest when it comes to traversing the world without sight. He can set his own pace, feel the ground beneath his own feet, and stop immediately if he must.

But the caravan insists on giving him a mount and before he can disagree, he finds himself in possession of a mare. Which is all well and good; the animal seems to have a fine temperament.

Except he's never had the need to ride a horse before.

He hasn't the first idea how to even get himself up in the saddle, let alone control the reins.

So if he spends the better part of the first day leading the horse by foot anyway, well. Don't call him out on it. But then it becomes clear soon enough by the sounds of the rest of their group growing a little fainter as they leave him behind that he needs to figure this out.

It can't be that hard, right?

Stopping, he rubs a hand along the horse's forehead and speaks to her quietly. "Forgive me, sweet girl. I'm afraid I'm going to be quite an annoyance shortly." And then a voice calls out and for a moment Xingchen wonders if his horse can speak. Ah, but he recognizes the voice after a moment and relaxes, though he can't help but be a little embarrassed. "I think I may need it."

Moran's lips twitch at that. He's heard of some of their fellow travelers' misadventure with Xie Lian trying to make food, although only afterwards. He's avoided it, mostly because his food is usually brought to him by Xunxian.

"I do not think he did it on purpose, given that he seems to be able to eat what he makes with no ill effects... somehow."

Everyone else, though... seems to have succumbed to some sort of illness shortly afterwards.

"And he did apologize for it."

"... I'm sorry, I really don't know what happened."

He's seen, firsthand, how sick people have been after eating his food, but he still doesn't quite get what happened here.

"I've never had any trouble eating the food I made. I never realized... is it really that bad?"

He honestly can't tell.

There was still just quiet for a few seconds more after that, interrupted only by the faint pitter-pat of the deep crimson rain and the beginnings of alarmed murmurings from elsewhere in the caravan's nighttime camp, a few more fat red droplets smacking down unpleasantly against Eleven's shoulders--

Then, all of a sudden, the spray from above seemed to just... stop. Around just Eleven alone, over the top of his head, the falling drops began to veer bizarrely off toward the sides of his body to plop down onto the bare ground next to him.

And behind him then, a well-known voice:

"If I had to guess, I'd say our honorable escort must surely have something to do with this," came Archeval's familiar deep, sardonic drawl as he emerged from behind a tent to cross over toward Eleven's spot. His own face, hair, and shoulders were already streaked and spattered with red as well, but a small bubble of clear dry air seemed to follow him as he came close just like the one that had manifested around El.

"I've seen a few bloodbaths in my time, but this is far too on-the-nose even for the Sith. Perhaps we could go find a cliff overhang somewhere around here to keep watch under?" he suggested with a bored and vaguely irritable sigh as he stared up toward the mess in the dark sky overhead. "I can't keep this up forever."

Eleven watched the blood rain slide away from him with a blink, then turned with a mix of agitation and relief. It still felt disgusting, but he appreciated whatever force it was keeping him from becoming further soaked. Archeval's doing, naturally.

"Yes," he agreed with an aggrieved breath then a quick, grateful smile as his eyes immediately sought somewhere suitable.

"There." He pointed to the shape of a large rock with a gradual incline. He couldn't tell at distance in the dark, but he'd bet the ground at its base was clear, protected by the slant over the road. Eleven started for it before others got the same idea. He'd bet the available space wasn't substantial.

Though he hung back after a moment, to move with Archeval rather than ahead of him. "..Probably easier if I'm closer."

Eleven's smile turns rueful; of course Xingchen would have difficulty. He looks him over with a short hum, then back to the caravan putting distance between them.

"I'll be right back," he promises, then turns his horse into a swift trot to go catch up. He returns the same way a few minutes later, slowing, then dismounting as his horse comes to a stop.

He moves for Xingchen and sets a crate at his feet, next to the horse, then turns an assessing look on the mare. She seems steady and well-tempered, but he takes her reigns so she isn't tempted to move while Xingchen tries to inexpertly mount.

"Okay, so the stirrups are attached to the saddle- that's where your foot should go. There's also a horn on the saddle you can grab onto to lever yourself up. The crate should help a little."

Without physically directing him, Eleven couldn't be sure how better to explain it.

"Ah, let me know if that wasn't very clear- or if you need help."

Eleven winced.

"I think.. something you used might have gone wrong. And probably, because you aren't entirely mortal, it didn't affect you."

He nodded, well enough now that he could find amusement in it.

"I know he meant well."

That he was a god likely explained why he wasn't affected. Eleven shrugged with a shake of his head, then turned his attention on his companion.

"I'm glad you weren't affected, at least. How have you been, otherwise? I don't think we've spoken much since before the siege."

"Well, that's possible, I suppose..."

But Xie Lian's little frown seems to say otherwise.

"It didn't really taste all that different from what I usually make so that's why I don't know how it could have gone that wrong. But I promised I wouldn't cook again. Just in case."

Eleven hummed agreement, then reached out to touch the nearest horse to better offer reassurance. His eyes turned up to search the skies.

"It could just be the presence of that terrible army. I know I don't appreciate being around them much myself. But.. it doesn't hurt to be sure."

"I do not think I was given any of the food he made. Xunxian usually brings me my meals."

because if not, he would forget to eat, on most days.

He sighs at the question.

"I know this trip is necessary, but to be quite honest I'd rather be doing anything but this."

Arche simply gave a silent nod as he stuck close. The camp was starting to rouse more properly behind the pair of them as they hurried toward shelter, fearful murmurs rising in volume to yells across the camp and other people diving for cover as well, a few sleepers roused enough to poke their heads out of their tents only to hurriedly disappear back inside. Though he might have sounded blasé about the horrifying sight in front of their faces a moment ago, Archeval's stare out into the red rain was a grim one as they ducked beneath the outcropping, his lips pursed. Once the pair were situated, he let go his grip in the Force around them both with a little sigh. In principle it wasn't so different from deflecting blaster bolts away from one's body, but waving away thousands of raindrops at once was surprisingly taxing.

Out here, further away from the camp and underneath a rock covering, there was even less light to see by than before. Arche was a black blotch of robes and hair and pale face in the dark as he squinted over through the...storm...in the direction of the campsite. This certainly seemed to be no illusion, or if it was, it was a very realistic and thorough one indeed. He could see firepits sputtering and guttering all around the small camp as the dark liquid splashed down into them. The clearing was beginning to fill with a familiar, unpleasant odor. Experimentally he raised one blood-smeared, gloved hand toward his face with a thoughtful frown to take a more detailed sniff.

"...Human, unless I miss my guess. Or Zeltron, but I haven't seen any of those around here. Of course this place couldn't settle for just being generally unsettling--..."

He looked over to glance El up and down for a moment then, as though simply checking up on the other young man, and then simply leaned back against some of the rock to watch the cascade of blood with another little sigh.

"I only hope this at least decides to stop."

Human blood- a detail he could have guessed, but hadn't truly needed confirmation of. Eleven shuddered with disgust, watching the same sights with a grimace.

"Goddess, I hope so."

His hands moved to thread the buckles of his long coat free, then threw the garment off at his feet with feeling.

"But I am growing very tired of the undead," he snapped in an odd fit of temper; a sentiment he'd largely kept to himself and only alluded to in more mild forms aloud. But a distance away now, it felt safe (and justified) to express.

At least most of his clothing beneath had been well-sheltered, though the long sleeves of his shirt hadn't fared quite so well. At least the fabric was dark, like Archeval's robes, and so the only tell of it was the awful wetness clinging to his arms. He gave half a moment's thought to cutting the sleeves off, but resigned himself to having to simply endure until they came upon a stream. The warm blood stuck to his hair, neck, and face remained far more distressing.

"Augh. It wasn't enough we have to ride with them for weeks."

"Not exactly the ghosts' fault, I would suppose," Arche sighed out, still staring into the falling blood. It was too dark to make out much of the look on his face, but in contrast to El's mounting frustration and disgust, for a change he simply sounded tired.

"Or at least, I doubt they can help it. I can't claim any real knowledge of what's going on, but this whole pass is... suffused with the echo of whatever happened here. Desperation, regret." There was a gnawing feeling deep in his gut, in fact, one that hadn't left him at all for a good week now. He didn't need to know the story of what had gone down to be entirely sure that Lord Arha and his army must have met a gruesome failure of an end. It had been years since simply standing in someplace so touched by the dead had affected him this deeply. Perhaps he was simply still recovering from his exertions in Sa-Hareth, or perhaps it really was just a particularly strong echo--

"Do you feel it at all...?" he asked softly, glancing over toward El again in the dark. Certainly, the other young man seemed to have some kind of sense for these things, at least at times.

The question and quiet observations gave him some pause, banking irritation in the wake of Archeval's outreach of empathy. An odd thing. Not that he didn't pity the undead, but for the air of death growing steadily oppressive, lacking a garden with which to counter it.

He paused, stretching his senses, knowing even as he did that he wouldn't glean the depth of detail that Archeval held. There was something else, though- closer and far more concerning.

"I feel death," he said with a frown, turning his attention on Archeval. "But you feel..."

Eleven lifted a palmful of fire, looking him over as though seeking injury. "..Are you all right?"

Well, that had certainly backfired nicely. It wasn't hard to guess what Eleven might be feeling around Archeval specifically right now; he paused for a second in thought before giving a little sigh, waving off the concern with an absent gesture.

"You seem to ask me that quite often lately," he observed in his low, dry drawl.

"I'm well enough. This place is not conducive to good rest, but I'm sure that's been the same for most of us. What you are sensing at the moment--..."

It was on the tip of his tongue to simply lie, but. Standing here in the dark, streaked with blood amid this pass full of death and still standing out above and beyond all of that to Eleven's senses, he didn't know that he could expect to be believed. Their respective powers might work differently, but El was hardly stupid.

"...in your parlance I suppose one would call it dark magic," he shrugged at last, and for a little while simply stared out toward the black sky overhead as it continued to spit out crimson rain. It was a bit hard to know where to start -- he'd never really had to explain the Force walk out loud before, certainly had never had a desire to teach it to anyone.

And, well. Part of him already knew the nice boy standing next to him wasn't going to understand, or approve.

"Ah... Let me see. You have an affinity for the light, this is known. Born with it, I believe you've said. Hm, how is that coming along again, by the way? Re-cultivating that power of yours?..." Not that El was likely to let him get away with changing the subject, but one had to try. And it was something more pleasant to talk about for a moment out here in this blood-scented gloom.

She looked like she had no idea what she was doing, sure, but while Lily hadn't figured out how to use her legs to hold herself upright in the saddle she had sorted out that if she leaned a certain way she could balance well enough. Sliding to the side had been a persistent issue, but while now she certainly looked ridiculous - or like she was trying to lay down and ride a donkey at the same time - at least she had solved the problem of sliding to one side.

So what if she didn't look like the cowboys in the cinema? It did the job.

When Eleven approached she looked over at him dubiously, glancing down at her awkwardly tilted, stretched position in the donkey's saddle and then back to him, frowning.

"This isn't how you're meant to do this? I figured it was this, or clinging to Bronson's neck. I keep sliding."

Eleven tipped his head, brows furrowing. The question was a short-lived distraction, as there wasn't a great deal to say about it. And the more he focused on Archeval's energy, darker than he ever remembered, the more concerned he grew.

"It's.. not much better, really. I think it may take years to be nourished back to full strength at this rate. Naturally, anyway."

He frowned over Archeval, studying his face in the flickering light. "But you seem darker to me, as though you've awoken new depths."

Eleven swallowed a flutter of nerves reminding him he'd left his swords back in his tent at camp proper- not that he needed them, surely.

"..Should I be worried?"

Edited 2021-07-07 07:28 (UTC)

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[OPEN] words engraved in the sand

4 - Watch

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6. sorry i'm gonna be slow, carpal tunnel kicking my ass

no worries, hope you're doing a little better :c

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