The shadows of the Deep Roads still clung to Isla as she emerged from the suffocating dark, her search for a passage to Arran’s last known location proving fruitless. For days, she had navigated those ancient tunnels, following every lead and whisper, but there was no sign of her sister. Just dead ends, more darkness, and the haunting silence of empty caverns.
Despite her exhaustion, Isla wore the rough, nomadic life of a Grey Warden well. Her armor was scuffed and travel-worn, her staff strapped across her back still humming with the last traces of the last spell. She was no stranger to hardship, but the thought of losing Arran was harder to bear. Her twin had always been the stronger one, the more daring. A skilled Warden who had faced impossible odds before and returned each time, bloodied but unbroken. The reports of her death had to be mistaken - Arran was too clever, too resilient to simply vanish.
Remy, padded silently beside Isla, his amber eyes scanning the overgrown path ahead. Even below ground, he was alert, his nose twitching as he caught scents Isla couldn’t detect. He had been Arran’s loyal companion, but now the mabari stuck close to her sibling, as if determined to protect the only family he had left. As they approached the outskirts of an abandoned village, the hound hesitated, ears twitching. Something in the air made him wary, and he guided Isla around the settlement, taking a longer, less direct route.
The scent of rot drifted to her, faint but clear, and she spotted its source - a lone apple tree standing just outside the village, its branches heavy with mottled, overripe fruit. Beneath it, the ground was littered with apples, some dissolving into dark, sticky sludge. She hadn't eaten anything fresh in days, and despite everything, the sight of the apples was strangely comforting.
Shedding her pack Isla found an old, weathered ladder propped against a nearby shed and dragged it over, setting it against the tree. Remy watched her, head tilted, as she climbed up, reaching for the few apples that still looked untouched by rot. It felt almost absurd, picking fruit after all she had been through, but she wanted a moment of normalcy. As she reached out, fingers brushing against the skin of an apple, Remy barked - a sharp, anxious sound that startled her. She turned, one foot slipping on the rung of the ladder, and at that exact moment, the mabari bounded forward, his massive body nudging against the ladder’s base in an attempt to steady it. Instead, he knocked it clean out from under her.
Isla yelped as the ladder clattered away, leaving her clutching at the branch. The world tilted, and for a terrifying heartbeat, she dangled precariously over the ground. Below, the decaying apples squished and slithered like a dark, pulpy mire, promising a less-than-pleasant landing if she fell. She scrabbled for a better hold, nails digging into the bark, muscles straining as she tried to find balance.
The hound barked again, this time with a whine of apology, pacing beneath her as if trying to figure out how to fix the mess he’d made. Isla felt her grip slipping and, in a desperate move, swung her legs around, managing to hook one around a sturdier part of the branch. She hung there for a moment, breathing hard, before finally pulling herself back up onto a solid perch.
Isla followed his gaze, her heart still hammering from the near fall. Whatever had made him so cautious was still out there, lurking, and though she hadn’t seen it yet, she knew it was there. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up in an all too familiar sensation.
@Avishan
Despite her exhaustion, Isla wore the rough, nomadic life of a Grey Warden well. Her armor was scuffed and travel-worn, her staff strapped across her back still humming with the last traces of the last spell. She was no stranger to hardship, but the thought of losing Arran was harder to bear. Her twin had always been the stronger one, the more daring. A skilled Warden who had faced impossible odds before and returned each time, bloodied but unbroken. The reports of her death had to be mistaken - Arran was too clever, too resilient to simply vanish.
Remy, padded silently beside Isla, his amber eyes scanning the overgrown path ahead. Even below ground, he was alert, his nose twitching as he caught scents Isla couldn’t detect. He had been Arran’s loyal companion, but now the mabari stuck close to her sibling, as if determined to protect the only family he had left. As they approached the outskirts of an abandoned village, the hound hesitated, ears twitching. Something in the air made him wary, and he guided Isla around the settlement, taking a longer, less direct route.
The scent of rot drifted to her, faint but clear, and she spotted its source - a lone apple tree standing just outside the village, its branches heavy with mottled, overripe fruit. Beneath it, the ground was littered with apples, some dissolving into dark, sticky sludge. She hadn't eaten anything fresh in days, and despite everything, the sight of the apples was strangely comforting.
Shedding her pack Isla found an old, weathered ladder propped against a nearby shed and dragged it over, setting it against the tree. Remy watched her, head tilted, as she climbed up, reaching for the few apples that still looked untouched by rot. It felt almost absurd, picking fruit after all she had been through, but she wanted a moment of normalcy. As she reached out, fingers brushing against the skin of an apple, Remy barked - a sharp, anxious sound that startled her. She turned, one foot slipping on the rung of the ladder, and at that exact moment, the mabari bounded forward, his massive body nudging against the ladder’s base in an attempt to steady it. Instead, he knocked it clean out from under her.
Isla yelped as the ladder clattered away, leaving her clutching at the branch. The world tilted, and for a terrifying heartbeat, she dangled precariously over the ground. Below, the decaying apples squished and slithered like a dark, pulpy mire, promising a less-than-pleasant landing if she fell. She scrabbled for a better hold, nails digging into the bark, muscles straining as she tried to find balance.
Gods be damned, Remy!she hissed, her heart pounding.
What in Andraste’s name are you doing?
The hound barked again, this time with a whine of apology, pacing beneath her as if trying to figure out how to fix the mess he’d made. Isla felt her grip slipping and, in a desperate move, swung her legs around, managing to hook one around a sturdier part of the branch. She hung there for a moment, breathing hard, before finally pulling herself back up onto a solid perch.
Maker’s breath…she muttered, wiping her brow with a shaky hand. Below, Remy wagged his tail, clearly relieved that she hadn’t fallen, but still visibly anxious. He looked back over his shoulder, nose to the wind, as if expecting something… or someone.
Isla followed his gaze, her heart still hammering from the near fall. Whatever had made him so cautious was still out there, lurking, and though she hadn’t seen it yet, she knew it was there. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up in an all too familiar sensation.
You better not be darkspawn….
@Avishan
10-15-2024, 11:08 AM
