etraya | un: shadowheart

Not a Dark Prince, no. [She was, until recently, the follower of a Dark Lady, but that's behind her now.

She is, however, the daughter of a lycanthropic elf, and whether she inherited her father's lycanthropy or no, she certainly inherited his elven blood. And that's before taking the magic into account.]

I hope you'll understand if I take my own protective measures.

[Vanessa must have some power, if she's warded her home against non-humans and mages, and she strikes Shadowheart has the type to be unafraid of using that power. While Shadowheart is loathe to use a great deal of power over what might be nothing, best to take precautions.

Her eyes burn with a flash of golden light as she casts death ward and freedom of movement on herself in quick succession. For a moment, the holy symbol of Selûne – two eyes surrounded by seven stars – burns itself into the air in front of her, and more golden light swirls around her before subsiding.

As soon as the light fades, she reaches out towards the threshold, only to have her hand brought up short by what feels like an invisible wall. Irritated, as though she wasn't warned mere moments ago that this might happen, she shoves on the barrier. Nothing, of course, happens.]

It seems your house has deemed me too elven and too magical to merit entrance.

[ The specificity of her initial response has Vanessa incredibly curious, especially if some godly or demonic connection grants her the sort of power she just displayed, but that's something perhaps to investigate a bit later.

Rarely is she accustomed to magic being so...visible, and the golden hue is lovely, yet she can sense nothing holy in it.

Curious. ]

If nothing else was going to keep you at bay, such spell-craft likely would.

[ But she can understand. It must have been Shadowheart's own protective ward.

Kneeling for but a moment, Vanessa lifts the hem of her skirts just enough to procure a small knife that had been strapped to her ankle. ]

Does blood offend? It is required for entry.

[ Joan hadn't really given her the option, but nothing was going to scare Vanessa off at that point. ]

[When she sees Vanessa pull a knife from beneath her dress, Shadowheart bristles, shifting sideways in front of Scratch.]

Depends on whose blood it is, I suppose. If you intend to spill your own, by all means, go ahead. If you intend to spill mine, well... I'm not in the habit of opening my veins to just anyone.

[ Again with the little smile. ]

I should hope not.

[ She keeps more than one knife with her, just as useful for collecting herbs as they are blood magic, but she would rather not reveal the one concealed closest to her breast. Some things are best kept for worst-case scenarios.

But she likes Shadowheart, at least what she's seen so far, and this invitation can always be reversed should that ever change, so there's no hesitation or even a flinch as she slices into her own thumb with a practiced swipe. The knife is left on the table just inside the door before she steps back out and reaches up with her bloodied thumb. Again, she'll pause, showing far more consideration than was ever given to Vanessa herself. ]

I will need to mark you.

[This isn't like the rituals of the cloister. Blood was spilled there, of course, but even now she must admit there's a certain elegance to Shar; whatever else was expected of her, she wasn't getting ritually smeared with other people's blood.

And yet it's close enough that, for the briefest of moments, her chest tightens and a frowns steals across her face.]

If it's necessary, I suppose.

[She raises an eyebrow, amusement creeping into her voice as she regains her composure.]

You really do know how to roll out the welcome mat, I must say.

Edited 2024-07-15 01:12 (UTC)

[ There's a hum of amused acknowledgement of the strangeness that Shadowheart has been welcomed to, but she couldn't have expected too much normalcy after following a stranger about poisoncraft.

Nothing is elegant in this magic, aside from perhaps the gentleness of Vanessa's touch when reaching to brush a red cross just above the woman's brow. The mark is crude, and the words that join it are coarse, with a voice that drops so low it seems to dig the language out from far below the dirt. The spell crawls up through and out of her as though clawing free of her throat, biting and hissing. Sounds that no human should make.

Insidiously unseen, but but surely felt by anyone with the ability to understand true darkness. ]

Etsoo Sataan sha'am eni pemoder mendafa'. Etsoon moqaf yerkhomi lakwe huni zahomblar.

[Vanessa's actions and words are strange to Shadowheart, but she knows them for what they are: magic, and dark magic at that. She once drew power from darkness, from pain and solitude and loss, and she is still close enough to it to recognize it when it's before her.

When next she speaks, the amusement is gone from her voice.]

Quite the display of power. What god do you serve? [It's not Shar. It may not even be a god she's heard of. But after that, she does need to ask.]

[ The question is enough to give her pause, and a shadow casts across her features when she presses her thumb into her palm and steps back to allow entry. Once, she would have known how to answer. Does she not still keep the crucifix upon her bedroom wall? Are there not moments when she closes her eyes, and still wonders if she will ever again be able to speak her prayers?

Yet, she knows. She knows He will never hear her—she suspects that He never wanted to.

This magic is for those who might instead serve the Devil, but Vanessa would never call him Master. He is too low for her consideration. ]

There is no God for the likes of one such as I.

[ She shouldn't sound so sad in her answer, but there's no hiding the pain that such a claim draws out. The finality of it feels like an old curse finally given voice.

With her other hand, Vanessa pulls free a handkerchief to offer out. ]

Please, be welcome.

[Vanessa's withdrawal tells Shadowheart all she needs to know before the other woman ever opens her mouth. Her face expresses everything Shadowheart felt the moment she cast away Lady Shar's spear; the knowledge, unassailable and inescapable, that she was forsaken. The incalculable loss of the divine presence she had spent her life praying to.

Shadowheart had friends. As utterly alone as she'd felt in that moment, she hadn't been truly alone, or she might not have made it through.

Does Vanessa have anyone?

She's still unsure of Vanessa after that display. Her magic is as dark as anything Shadowheart's ever sensed, but that touch was gentle. Bewilderingly so. She's unused to such gentleness.]

Stay out here, Scratch. I'll be back soon.

[He looks at her and whines before trotting off to occupy himself with searching for a stick to play with.

Shadowheart accepts the offered handkerchief, and, stepping across the threshold rather tentatively, follows Vanessa inside.]

[ She would not have protested the dog's entry, but she can appreciate how much Shadowheart seems to care for the beast. Perhaps Vanessa can find some scraps later on to leave out for him the next time he roams about. He seems gentle for a dog.

Once Shadowheart is inside and the door is shut, Vanessa will lead her past the parlour, and instead to a room off to the opposite side which resembles a small library or study.

Were she to look back before leaving the foyer, the half-elf might take notice of what appears to be a scorpion painted in blood on the inside of the steel door. A mirror they pass is draped with a sheet. Everything else appears as any Victorian mansion might: entirely too ornately decorated. ]

Worry not, such action need not be taken for every entry. You are welcome here any time you wish to visit.

[ A glance as she goes to close the second door. In case Morpheus should be about, this can provide a modicum of privacy. ]

Assuming there will be another visit.

[ Which is to say: Just what does she hope to gain poison for? Will she survive the day? ]

[Shadowheart does indeed look around, taking note of the mirror – magic? – and the scorpion – drawn in blood, no less – and searching her memory for any gods that use a scorpion as their symbol. None come to mind.

The place is not only ornately decorated, it's also crowded in a way she isn't used to. The detailing in the wood, the things set everywhere... perhaps this is how the homes in the Upper City are appointed. Has she ever been inside such a home? There's some memory, oh-so-faint, gone before she can grasp it.

She also takes the opportunity to wipe the blood from her brow, carefully ensuring that she's got every drop of it.]

I'd hate to drain you of your magic simply for the sake of a house call.

[If she'll be back. One strong dose of poison is all she needs.

Once they're alone and the door is closed, Shadowheart turns, taking in this room as she did the foyer before directing her attention fully to Vanessa.

She speaks bluntly.] I have no plans to go on a murder spree, if you're concerned about that. The poison is for myself. A last resort. My condition is under control, for now, but should it progress, I'd prefer a quick, and ideally painless, exit. And that's to say nothing of the danger I'd pose to everyone in this place should it run its full course.

[ Now that magical permission has been granted, Shadowheart can enter the premises whenever she wants, provided the front door is unlocked. Though, from how she then proceeds to describe her situation, it isn't so far off to again wonder if it will ever come to pass.

Her words strike an all-too-familiar chord, and she leans against the nearby table while gesturing for Shadowheart to sit in the chair if she so wishes. The woman is clearly suffering from something dire, and perhaps that is why Vanessa felt like she recognized something strange on meeting her. Perhaps she carries demons that can manifest as an illness, just as Vanessa once suffered for so many years.

Death had been a fantasy at the worst of times, and at those times she had been the most dangerous.

With arms folded, there's quiet contemplation for a stretch before she responds. ]

A possession? A demon?

[For the moment, she prefers to stand, not comfortable enough to sit in a strange place with a person she doesn't know well.

The silence drags on, seeming to last for eons – long enough for Shadowheart to begin to grow nervous – before Vanessa finally responds.]

A parasite.

[Does Vanessa know of illithids? And if she does, would she attempt to kill Shadowheart here and now rather than trust that ceremorphosis is not inevitable?]

There are creatures in my world that reproduce by inserting parasites into others' heads, which eventually transform their host into one of their own kind. The parasite in my head is unique. Dormant. But should it ever wake, I would suffer a long and agonizing death and the rest of you would be trapped here with one of the most dangerous creatures in existence.

[She scowls, her tone becoming increasingly insistent.]

It's best for everyone if I have a way to prevent that.

[ ....one of the most dangerous creatures in existence.

Vanessa's eyes, icy and penetrating, flicker with a hint of recognition as she listens to Shadowheart's tale. Her posture remains poised, but there's a subtle tension in her shoulders, as if bracing against an invisible weight. ]

I see. Such burdens are...familiar to me.

[ Her voice is low, a husky rasp that seems to carry echoes of darker times. ]

While I cannot claim knowledge of these specific creatures, I am intimately acquainted with the fear of losing oneself to something...other.

[ Vanessa is hardly going to be the first to condemn the woman. At the same time, it leaves her keenly aware of the danger presented, and that inaction could lead to disaster.

There is a pause, her gaze drifting momentarily to some unseen point before snapping back to Shadowheart. ]

May I ask, what other avenues have you yet explored?

[Losing oneself. Even without impending ceremorphosis, Shadowheart understands that fear. She was so very lost for years; she doesn't even know how many. How much more lost would she be now if she'd walked into the Shadowfell alone? If doubts hadn't been planted in her head by her friends sufficient to make her cast away Shar's spear?

She and Vanessa have a few things in common, it seems.

Her focus now, though, is getting what she came here for.]

This is beyond any healer in my world, including myself. No magic that I know of can extract it. We found one of the creatures that had turned on its kind and was willing to help us, but it said that if it were to attempt to extract the parasite, the host would die in the process. The only potential solution left is to destroy the thing that controls the parasites, which, needless to say, I can't accomplish here.

[It's more than she might otherwise share, but Vanessa has been kind to her thus far. And understanding.]

If no one here can help me and I'm unable to return home, my only options are to hope it remains in stasis or die in agony if it does not.

[ Vanessa's expression softens for but a moment, a flicker of empathy crossing her features. Her gaze remains fixed on Shadowheart, assessing and contemplative. ]

I see. Your situation is...precarious indeed.

[ Her eyes narrow slightly, a hint of determination flickering in their depths. ]

I can give you what you wish for, however... Perhaps there is a way to strengthen your own will against this parasite. To keep it dormant indefinitely.

[ She pauses, weighing her next words carefully. ]

I've some experience with...unconventional methods. If you're willing, we could explore options beyond what you are familiar with. It may present new risks, but it could also provide more than just a last resort.

Yes. Anything.

[She says it too quickly and far too eagerly. She can't say with any certainty whether it's desperation or hope that tinges her voice; both are dangerous, in their own way, yet lately she's been learning to embrace hope.]

I'm hardly opposed to unconventional methods when they might prevent my death.

[ The desperation is only too relatable. There have been times when she had been reduced to begging, to abandoning all hope, if only to find a moment's peace. It was not so very long ago.

She may as well still fulfill Shadowheart's original request, once the ingredients are gathered, but more than anything she would like to be able to actually help someone who understands that sort of fear. The invasion of oneself. ]

It may involve dark spell-craft.

I'm familiar with such things. [All too familiar.] I have no fear of the dark.

[She may have been forsaken by the goddess of darkness, but she spent a lifetime worshipping her. She knows what it is to live in darkness, and she knows what it is to draw on darkness for one's power.

But there are some lines she's unwilling to cross again.]

What would this dark spell-craft involve, exactly?

[ Vanessa can't help but wonder just how far into the darkness this woman has tread. ]

I cannot say for certain the details, as I have not attempted to remedy something of this particular nature. But I may be able to communicate with what is inside of you, to banish it or force it into a sort of slumber. Something much more involved than what you saw at the entrance.

It isn't going to involve human sacrifice, is it?

[Gods know she's killed in Shar's name, and committed torture in Shar's name. But she never wants to hurt an innocent again, not even if it would mean saving her own life.]

[ The scoff is soundless, but perceptible, as Vanessa shakes her head. She can understand why the woman might worry about such things, given what was required simply for her to gain entry. ]

No matter how I may seem, I am no witch. Such deplorable rituals are for those who serve the prince of the pit, which I assuredly do not.

[ Despite her absolutely having undertaken Satanic ritual, and this may not be so far off from that...

Except he isn't here, so she'll make her own like she has everything else. ]

But it may involve blood.

[She vaguely wonders who the 'prince of the pit' is. Asmodeus, maybe, or Belial. Isn't the Pit of Flame in Belial's realm? Not that it matters; she understands Vanessa to mean that she doesn't worship devils.]

More than devil-worshippers practice human sacrifice. But I take your meaning. As long as the only blood involved belongs to you or I, I'm not opposed to the idea.

[She raises an eyebrow.]

What would you ask in return?

[ How much human-sacrifice has Shadowheart encountered to consider it such a possibility in various circles? The world she comes from seems incredibly brutal, even by Vanessa's standards. It will be a curious thing to eventually learn if there is anything beautiful for the woman to recount. ]

Ask?

[ An understandable assumption, but this seems the sort of thing that would benefit all, really. Vanessa is paid enough in company, so long as the woman doesn't end up dead (or worse). ]

For your faith, I suppose. It is not an easy thing to trust another with your own trials.

[She lets out a short, humourless bark of a laugh.]

You're right about that. Faith is no easy thing.

[Vanessa truly expects nothing in exchange for this service she offers? Well then. As long as no one else is getting hurt, Shadowheart would be a fool not to at least see what these unconventional methods entail.]

But I'm willing to try.

un: shadowheart | text

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cw: we got blood magic here fellas

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cw: discussion of suicide

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cw: parasites

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