usir | Event #3 A Tale of Three Cities

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🜙 Mini-Event #2: The North Winds, January 11th

	The Long Night has ended and the sun once more rises and sets with the short winter cycle. Although the cold remains, it has lessened considerably following the harsh freeze of the darkness. Krimnos, no longer having to put all their resources into defending the city from the terrors to come, has been able to clear the heavy snowpack on the cliffs above the city enough to safely begin running two of their three remaining airships. The Skywhale has been making its regular routes since its repairs the previous month, but the two airships from Krimnos to Didymos and the City of the Free Peoples have been grounded in the cliff city for safety since the start of winter. Now two of Krimnos' airships join their sister ship in the skies over Idan. The following routes are traveled once a day by each airship: The *Skywhale* travels from the City of the Free Peoples to Didymos and then back once a day, docking nightly in the City of the Free Peoples. The *Horizon* travels from Didymos to Krimnos and then back once a day, docking nightly in Didymos. The *Valiant* travels from Krimnos to the City of the Free Peoples and then back once a day, docking nightly in Krimnos. The *Zenith* normally travels from Krimnos to the mountain outpost of Preciposte and then on to Einjar. Unfortunately, it is still grounded due to inclement weather and winter threats in the northern mountains beyond Krimnos. The Zenith will not be able to travel until the thaw has begun. A one-way trip takes 4-6 hours depending on weather and wind to go from/to Didymos to either city and 6-9 hours to travel between Krimnos and the City of the Free Peoples. Anyone can take a trip on an airship for a purse of silver coins, or try their luck and stow away. Mounts can get a lift as well, but they require an additional fare. Not bad for a chance to see Idan from a bird's eye view for the first time for most people.
🜙 Thlipa's Tribute, January 11th

	As January progresses, pods of fin whales spend their nights in the safety of Fisher's Bay during their migration. At this time Thlipa is believed to be watching over Idan and many of Idan's people show their respect for the deity. Unlike the Day of Lefkokó, Thlipa's Tribute is a far more somber affair. Though she is the goddess of the seas, storms, and power, she is also the goddess of mourning and it is this realm she is believed to preside over most during the cold winter months. People from all across Idan who are able to travel will make a journey to Didymos to be closer to the ocean, while others observe the fin whale goddess' day in their own homes and cities. Ancestors, lost relatives, and friends are remembered with offerings of handmade gifts and small collections of nuts and sweet-dried fish. Small, enchanted candles are set out on boats down the river and shore to be carried out to the ocean. It is believed by some of the more power-hungry supporters of Thlipa that by calling on and revering the spirits of the departed Thlipa might gift her followers with the magic of the fallen. Gatherings of Thlipa's most devout followers can be seen on the shores or on small skimmer boats in the bay, and vandalism of fishing boats and nets that might endanger the fin whales runs rampant during this time.

🜙 A Tale of Three Cities - Krimnos: An Army Adrift, January 12-20th

	It appears that a large company of former Atrómitos knights has awoken in an isolated and forgotten battlefield below Krimnos' twin mountains. The army has journeyed together through the blinding blizzard to complete their original objective: a full-scale attack on Krimnos. There's something off about the tattered army decked in the green and gold of Atrómitos that shows up at Krimnos' gates. They don't seem to feel the cold, and their eyes, if anyone is unfortunate enough to get that close, are a colorless and glossy grey. They continue fighting through weather and injury, undeterred as they focus their attacks on Krimnos' main gate, setting magical fire to the gate, the wall, and their perceived enemies. The army can be seen using weapons, battering rams, and elemental magic to attack the city's gates. Though their eyes are a blank and glossy grey and they do not seem to be speaking or reacting with pain to counter-attack elements, it is clear there is a hierarchy and the commanding officers seem to still be silently directing their forces. They do not speak, and if captured it quickly becomes clear why. Though they appear whole externally, the soldiers of this army lack functional internal organs. No blood runs through their frozen veins and no oxygen is being pulled into their lungs. There also appear to be no thoughts in their minds, only the howling sound of the wind through the mountains around Krimnos. At this time of year, Krimnos can not afford to loose their main line of defense, nor can they risk the very real dangers of battle sounds and blood drawing out the hungry mountain hunters or causing an avalanche that could bury the city in snow. No one knows why this army is here, but with the familiar colors adorning the fighters, there are whispers in the air of an attempt to start a war. Already tense relations between Krimnos and the City of the Free Peoples could stand to suffer from this and the citizens of Krimnos seem horrified by the prospect. King Sitka's first concern is the safety of his people, and as such he is driving his army hard into the attacking forces and even beyond its gates if necessary, anything to push the battle farther from his people and the dangerous cliffs stacked with snow that tower over Krimnos.

🜙 A Tale of Three Cities - City of the Free Peoples: The Disappearance of Captain Lykos, January 14-22nd

	No one has seen Captain Lykos since the Long Night but rumors and knowledge of his disappearance have been kept quiet by the city's Defenders, fearful the city would spiral into a panic at the loss of its de facto leader. As word comes from traveling Krimnos merchants that the city is under siege from an army dressed in green and gold, the city turns to its Defenders for answers and finds more than they bargained for. The Defenders attempt to calm the rising panic in the city by deflecting, stating that the Captain is out on a peace mission on his way to Krimnos but this backfires as the city erupts into conspiracy theories that he is actually leading the attack and trying to start a war, with reasons such as anger over a lack of support from Krimnos during the city's time of need being used to feed the growing fear. As outrage and panic spread across the city, the Defenders declare martial law and put the city back on lockdown until answers can be found. The stability of the city quickly begins to fray. Chaos, disorder, and dissent spread and talk of overthrowing the Defenders and putting someone else in charge begins to spread. The city needs answers for themselves and for Krimnos and the Defenders begin an even more desperate search for their missing leader. Meanwhile, the citizens of the city begin preparing for a revolt, with whispers of an organized attack on the warcamp of the Defenders quickly gaining traction. The more time passes the less reasonably either side appears to be thinking, and the longer anyone lingers in the city the more infectious this frantic and paranoid energy becomes. Amidst it all, a Siamese with a familiar glowing adornment can be seen surveying the chaos from the safety of rooftops or tree branches, its eyes occasionally glowing blue while its tail flicks in what seems to be either irritation or frustration.

🜙 A Tale of Three Cities - Didymos: Tidal Troubles, January 14-25th

	Starting the morning of the 14th, trouble comes to Didymos on the tides or the lack thereof. The tide goes out during the night and, to the dismay and concern of Didymos' citizens, it never comes back. In fact, it seems as if the ocean waters are only continuing to recede, leaving Didymos' fleet and her fishing ships awash in the shallows or fully grounded. Each day the waters recede further, leaving sealife beached or trapped in tide pools and larger dips in the seafloor. A pod of fin whales finds themselves stranded in the deepest section of the bay just within the Sunset Gate. As the waters continue to recede, shipwrecks, sunken cargo, and unusual skeletons dot the rock and shell covered shores, turning the edges of the bay into an unending expanse of tide pools and dotting the horizon with pieces of warped and barnacle-covered ships usually only visible beneath the clear waters. Within days it's possible for a fully grown human to wade out to the Sunset Gate without ever getting their neck wet. The confusion and complications caused by this unexplainable dearth of water starts a panic in Didymos that the dual rulers have to fight to control. The widespread fear is joined by whispers of a war brought along from people traveling to Didymos from the other cities, and Didymos finds itself caught in a tense place with the prospect of having to outline allegiances if war breaks out. Everyone knows Queen Adira would put her forces behind Krimnos in an instant, but King Ardis seems reluctant, questioning the legitimacy of Krimnos' claims to a possible war and seeking information.

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If other dweebs told him off for rambling on, then he would have put Shura to sleep in an instant. Whatever it was he taught, he was probably pretty passionate about it. She makes a quick note to herself to never press him on whatever he taught.

Shishi finishes off his drink and is quick to rest his head on his paws and curl closer to Shura. She wipes her hand on her shorts, not realizing Strange's quiet until she looks up at him, following his gaze out to the water.

"There's a difference between choosing to run off from a place and having that place taken away from you." She replies, her voice soft. There is something familiar about that, thinking that she had lived a life that she could abandon without regret. A bitter laugh escapes her, and she downs the rest of her cup.

"True," Strange admits, with a soft little smile. After all, choosing to run off from something always meant that you could return. If he wanted to, he could have easily gone back then. But not now. His gaze is still out on the ocean as Strange adjusts his position slightly. Bell makes a little sighing noise as she turns her glance towards the ocean as well.

Not really looking at Shura, Strange continues talking. "If you could have anyone here who you had back in our proper time, who would it be?"

It's a possibly invasive question. But Strange is asking it anyway, as he slips further and further into nostalgia.

It is invasive, horribly so, but Shura is drunk and her heart hurts. She hates everything about this place.

“I wouldn’t bring either of them here,” she murmurs, her voice soft and low as she draws her knees up to her chest. She keeps her gaze towards the ocean, unfocused on any particular thing. “They don’t need to deal with this.” They deserve better than being caught up in some bastard’s mysterious plans. She didn’t even know what became of them, whether or not they survived the war or if she failed to protect them by getting killed so early on.

That's a sensible answer. And really, that should be what Strange would say. But he's far too honest to lie. Without really thinking, he reaches over to scratch Bell on the head as he talks.

"It's terrible to admit this, but I'm more selfish than you," Strange admits, as a small smile plays on his face. "I'd give up everything just to bring her here and see her face again."

Not like he could in the first place. Arabella didn't die on a battlefield like the rest of them did. And after a hundred years, the body's probably deteriorated enough that he couldn't use it in necromancy, not unless his skills drastically improved. She was dead and he would never see her again. He simply had to accept that.

To see her face again—his wife, Shura assumes.

“I haven’t known a man who forgot his first love.” Because it’s true, as far as she was concerned. It was just part of being a man across all races; the mad elf should hardly be the exception. It was the sort of sentiment she had spent most of her life avoiding because she understood what she would leave behind when her ancestor’s curse caught up with her.

Another cup for both of them. Shura won’t risk sobriety tonight.

"Am I that predictable?" he teases, knowing full well that he is that predictable. Ah well. Let him be a soppy romantic, he doesn't care at the moment. He takes another swig from the cup, then holds it down towards Bell so the hare can lap up some alcohol herself.

"She was more than my first love. Arabella was my reason for existing. Everything I did, I did to try and please her. The time I spent with her was the happiest in my life."

And suddenly, now that he's said the name of his wife, his hare's name makes sense.

"Now...well, I must move on." Which he obviously has mixed feelings about.

Predictable was a way to put it. A giant sap of a man. His wife must have have been either equally as crazy or a saint to put up with him. That or she really liked dogs.

Shura doesn't know how to reply to him. Probably, unless his wife leaned towards the crazy side, she would have wanted him to go on with his life and be happy. That was a kind of common sense. Shiro's words come to her mind, unbidden and unwelcome. Live on. She had finally wanted to try, but a knife in her side had more power than her teacher's words.

"That isn't something I know how to do," she admits. "Livin' and movin' on."

This makes Strange wonder: who was the person who Shura left behind? Or persons, as it might be. Her remark about 'either of them' still weighs on his mind. Still, no matter who it is, it's nice to know that she's a like mind.

"I don't really know how to do it either," Strange admits. He's got a few attempts at necromancy under his belt to prove that he doesn't know how to move on. "But I've got to at least try."

Try. She could try again, but just what kind of life could she build when her life wasn't her own?

She exhales, remembering the rest of what Shiro had said that day. "Eat, sleep, work, make friends, start a family--" She counts off each task on her fingers. When she hits the fifth task, she stares blankly at her hand, trying to figure out how to count higher when her other hand was occupied holding her cup. "Nn, some other stuff. That's what my teacher said to do." Did drinking fall under eating? She hadn't considered that before.

Strange can't help but smile as Shura lists off all the things her teacher said to do. "Well, I've gotten four of the five down already. But starting a family? I'm afraid that will have to wait until I learn more about our situation."

Finding someone nice and settling down? Preposterous. Not while he doesn't know anything about the magic that brought them back from the dead nor who brought them back in the first place. It would be dangerous to draw someone who wasn't one of theirs into all this.

"I said there was more," Shura grumbles, but there's only a little bit of annoyance in her protest. How sad, the crazy man has her beat on living a decent life. Well, according to him. Whether or not he really had the first four steps down might be debatable.

"Even thinkin' about that's weird." She doesn't know why she's telling him this, but it's true and Shura doesn't know what else to say on the subject.

"It is," Strange admits. Starting a family when they're like this? When they don't have any idea why they were resurrected and can only have more questions? That seems foolish. And when Jonathan 'no impulse control' Strange thinks something's foolish, that's probably pretty dang foolish.

"I wonder...do you ever think they'll know about us?" It's said with a vague gesture towards the streets below. "We're keeping this a secret for now, understandably so, but I wonder how long this can last." He laughs a little, though it's a gentle laugh more than anything else. "I wouldn't want to start a family unless everything was said upfront. It wouldn't be fair otherwise."

It's a familiar pang, one that has Shura drawing her legs closer to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. She had kept her guard up so she wouldn't feel regret when she returned to her master. Her freedom had a been a brief, shining thing. But now she was back under the yoke of another master.

"Bringing someone in who ain't involved..." Her voice a quiet murmur. "Even if they're not spooked, askin' them to stay with us is a lot, ain't it?"

"It is," he simply responds. No need to say any more than that. Dragging someone into this fresh new realm of bullshit, into soul animals and the fact that they cannot die is somewhat cruel. Very few people would willingly accept that fate.

When Strange speaks again, it's with a tone of forced levity, like he's trying so hard to keep the conversation from going south and to keep himself from dwelling on certain things. "Still, it's either bring in someone who isn't involved or limit my options to the rest of the reawakened. There's someone who I could see myself with but that's...what, one out of thirty? Terrible odds."

A different direction would be good. Wallowing in her thoughts and regrets was just going to land her with a bad hangover in the morning, and this alcohol is too nice to puke up like that.

"Mm? Yeah, but is that person willin' to put up with you?" It's impressive, the way Shura swerves, sitting up and taking a teasing tone. Pity to person Strange could see himself with. Though it wouldn't be a sleepy life, that was for sure.

"Time will tell, won't it?" Strange responds, wry smile turning into a wide grin. Because really, that's the only way of figuring it out: spending more time with this person, seeing how she'll react to him, hoping that whatever nonsense which will inevitably happen to them won't be too detrimental.

Because he's not an idiot, there's probably going to be a fair amount of nonsense happening at some point.

"I suspect we'll just have to wait and see and watch what happens."

It might be the exhaustion of holding her grief back, it might be the alcohol, but it's the funniest thing Shura's heard all day. Shura tries for a moment to hold back her laughter, but it slips out, her shoulders shaking as she raises a hand to cover her mouth.

"That's so--" She doesn't quite finish her thought, too busy snickering. Instead, she lets herself slump to her side, leaning on Shishi's hip as she tries to collect herself.

Strange doesn't take this as Shura laughing at him specifically. They're both a little tired, a little melancholic, and a little drunk. He's writing this off as Shura laughing for the sake of laughing, or something in drunk brain making her do this, not Shura making fun of him in particular.

"Yes, that is indeed so. I don't have any other options, do I?" Just waiting and watching and seeing what would happen. And Strange can't help it either: he starts giggling, idly biting his lip to keep from laughing too loudly.

An oblivious windbag, that’s what he is. And that just makes her laugh harder. Shishi raises his head, peering at Shura before lowering his head back down on his paws with a rumble.

“You’re incorrigible.” She wheezes, wrapping her arms around her stomach. And then, “I’m gonna puke, jeez!”

Okay, maybe she’s not gagging just yet, but her sides hurt, even as her giggles seem to subside. But even if it comes down to that, Strange’s idiocy has managed to distract her.

"Don't puke on me!" Strange laughs, as he backs a little bit away from Shura. As he moves, Bell unintentionally moves also, and the hare hops around to the other side of Strange, away from the potential vomit.

"Just...aim off of the side of the roof or something like that."

Never mind the fact that there are people below and Shura might just blow chunks on someone's head.

"I don't wanna." Move or puke, either way. The fact that Shishi seems pretty content to let Shura moan and groan while laying on him is probably the best indicator that harfing isn't imminent. That or the lion is also drunk and he doesn't realize that danger he's in. But after another few moments of whining to herself, she'll quiet down, her breathing slowly evening out. This isn't the most comfortable spot, but she's getting used to the smell of lion and she's tired, so she'll just stay down for now. Her sides are sore, anyway. The pedestrians below are safe for the moment.

"The hell kinda booze is that, anyway?" It was nice. But really, Shura was drunk before she brought out the cups, so she's just really drunk now.

"The good kind," Strange explains, as he gives Shura a slightly drunk grin of his own. And, possibly because of the alcohol, possibly because of the mood, Strange turns the conversation back to serious for a moment as he gazes back out towards the ocean.

"I'm sorry. If I listened to you during the Long Night, we wouldn't be in this situation right now."

Or more specifically, Shura wouldn't be in this situation. Strange will admit that it's his own damn fault that he died...but she shouldn't have.

It takes Shura time to process his second apology, trying to decide what she was supposed to do. It wasn’t exactly a normal thing, forgiving someone for getting her violently killed.

“You said that already.” She doesn’t bother to move when she finally replies. Shura couldn’t deny that she was still angry, but anger was a feeling she was used to bearing. Arrogant idiots weren’t new to her; Strange just happened to make her laugh, which made his nonsense easier to tolerate. But if he was back on apologizing, then she’ll just try to move him along, turning to look at him over her shoulder before extending a hand to him, palm raised up expectantly. If he doesn’t dodge, she may end up whacking him on the arm.

“Let me see your vial.”

Edited 2019-02-05 19:13 (UTC)

"I know," Strange responds. But with how the conversation changes and Shura's entire personality, there's a bit of him that's worried the apology didn't take. He really means this, he is truly sorry that he got her killed...but because of the conversation swap to flippancy, he's not sure if she knows.

Still, seeing his vial, he can do that. Wordlessly, Strange moves towards his pocket and pulls the vial out from there. It's on a chain, like usually worn as a necklace. And there's a noticeably less amount of liquid in there than in other people's vials.

"The liquid dropped after I was resurrected," Strange explains, with a small frown. "I've no idea how it vanished in the first place."

It feels just the tiniest bit odd to have someone else’s vial in her hands, and Shura doing her best to handle it gently. But the liquid—it was lower than hers? She gauges it with her thumbnail, then after a bit of fussing, reaches up underneath the scarf she has tied around her neck to undo the clasp on the cord that holds her vial. Holding them together, side by side. Her brow furrows. She might be drunk, but something isn’t right.

“Mine has more in it.” It’s a simple statement, but why and how? It could be arbitrary, just a matter of luck. It hurts her head to think too hard about it, but she doesn’t know when she’ll see Strange next, so she’ll bear with it, casually looking past the fact that he knew he was repeating his apology.

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