The time had come to close the doors.
She had stood by, doing what she could for many days, taking rest when she could to keep the reserves needed to perform this magic. Sealing the Vhenadahl was no simple feat, but it had been Sylaise's home for centuries, no-one else held the keys to whispering its song. With the Eluvian’s cut off, too dangerous to move anyone caught in the fighting, the tree's deep rooting system made for a perfect sanctuary.
Nairn, of course, was the last to leave. This was no longer a fight he could play a part in, not with the forces at play. Reassuring him her defences would hold, and that Ruth would not be alone in protecting her, eventually Nairn would enter the shelter.
Megara spent a long moment staring at the door before she and Ruth walked into the inner chamber, the heart of the vhenadahl. A meeting room, where a large table sat centre with a few high back chairs, emblems of their position carved into the wood. Each one was different from the last, but a core tree ran through each, connecting them all. Beyond the table, sat another chair, nestled in the corner next to a small hearth. Once, there hadn’t been a chair at all, it was simply a nook that Sylaise had found and in time worn the spot into what it was. June, on his return to her, would add comforts to it, a cushion, support, the hearth so in winter she wouldn’t chill.
Taking a deep breath, Meg collected herself, nodding to herself, but addressing Ruth behind her. [color=#008e02]“Go find Revas. Tell him it’s time for the plan.”[/color] For a second time, another was reluctant to leave her and as she didn’t hear his footsteps retreating, Meg turned her head, startling her friend with the changes in her appearance. One black eye locked onto him with an edge clean enough Ruth was sure it could cut him. Megara’s other eye seemed half in transition, green and black swirled in a turbulent balance [color=#cccccc]“Rut’theran. We don’t have the time. Go.” [/color]
When the pair returned, Megara now sat nestled. Legs criss-crossed, her hands sat in between with her eyes closed, meditating and communing with the magic around and within the tree itself. The aura around her weaved and danced, threads of magic entered and fed itself back and forth between the elf and the living, ancient shelter. Fingers weaved, knitting invisible strings together, adding to the tapestry of spellcraft and warding already begun. Sylaise needed no words to sense their return, each step across the floor, vibrating their position through the veins of bark underneath.
A black orb opened, the other still focused on the task at hand while conveying her instructions for Revas. [color=#cccccc]“I have begun the warding. Lend what you can and then leave us.”[/color] Then it was Ruth’s turn. [color=#cccccc]“Return often. Megara will need your attention, this will be a great strain on us.” [/color]With her orders conveyed and understood, Sylaise slipped back into the delicate formation of a layered defence. Spell layered spell, wards interwoven in each one to halt any and all before reaching another binding of defences, all this before they even tapped the vhendahl’s own magic. Sustaining this, maintaining the constant moving weave of magic, sat the small elf at the heart of the tree. The conduit of decision and adjustment to any tremor against the barriers protecting those inside.
It was like holding ones breath. Eventually the air would run out, exhaustion of keeping a constant vigilance would take its toll on the healer. Days turned into nearly two weeks, the threat of the Eth taking the city crumbled as Arlathan’s forces pushed them back and out of the city. The weave of protective spells began to falter, one by one failing as her energy and the need for a final last defence evaporated with victory dawning on the final day.
Arlathan had survived.
She opened her eyes to sounds of cheering, comforting hands wrapped her up in a warm embrace that weren’t about to let her go and Megara managed a smile. The presence of Ruth’s magic lingered over her, but it felt far away, ghostly against the lull of unconsciousness and sleep.
[color=#008e02]“I’m glad… everyone’s fine… but I’mma just… shut my eyes for a,”[/color] a yawn took the ‘bit’ before she curled into the comforting sound of a ticking chest and sleep took her.
She had stood by, doing what she could for many days, taking rest when she could to keep the reserves needed to perform this magic. Sealing the Vhenadahl was no simple feat, but it had been Sylaise's home for centuries, no-one else held the keys to whispering its song. With the Eluvian’s cut off, too dangerous to move anyone caught in the fighting, the tree's deep rooting system made for a perfect sanctuary.
Nairn, of course, was the last to leave. This was no longer a fight he could play a part in, not with the forces at play. Reassuring him her defences would hold, and that Ruth would not be alone in protecting her, eventually Nairn would enter the shelter.
Megara spent a long moment staring at the door before she and Ruth walked into the inner chamber, the heart of the vhenadahl. A meeting room, where a large table sat centre with a few high back chairs, emblems of their position carved into the wood. Each one was different from the last, but a core tree ran through each, connecting them all. Beyond the table, sat another chair, nestled in the corner next to a small hearth. Once, there hadn’t been a chair at all, it was simply a nook that Sylaise had found and in time worn the spot into what it was. June, on his return to her, would add comforts to it, a cushion, support, the hearth so in winter she wouldn’t chill.
Taking a deep breath, Meg collected herself, nodding to herself, but addressing Ruth behind her. [color=#008e02]“Go find Revas. Tell him it’s time for the plan.”[/color] For a second time, another was reluctant to leave her and as she didn’t hear his footsteps retreating, Meg turned her head, startling her friend with the changes in her appearance. One black eye locked onto him with an edge clean enough Ruth was sure it could cut him. Megara’s other eye seemed half in transition, green and black swirled in a turbulent balance [color=#cccccc]“Rut’theran. We don’t have the time. Go.” [/color]
When the pair returned, Megara now sat nestled. Legs criss-crossed, her hands sat in between with her eyes closed, meditating and communing with the magic around and within the tree itself. The aura around her weaved and danced, threads of magic entered and fed itself back and forth between the elf and the living, ancient shelter. Fingers weaved, knitting invisible strings together, adding to the tapestry of spellcraft and warding already begun. Sylaise needed no words to sense their return, each step across the floor, vibrating their position through the veins of bark underneath.
A black orb opened, the other still focused on the task at hand while conveying her instructions for Revas. [color=#cccccc]“I have begun the warding. Lend what you can and then leave us.”[/color] Then it was Ruth’s turn. [color=#cccccc]“Return often. Megara will need your attention, this will be a great strain on us.” [/color]With her orders conveyed and understood, Sylaise slipped back into the delicate formation of a layered defence. Spell layered spell, wards interwoven in each one to halt any and all before reaching another binding of defences, all this before they even tapped the vhendahl’s own magic. Sustaining this, maintaining the constant moving weave of magic, sat the small elf at the heart of the tree. The conduit of decision and adjustment to any tremor against the barriers protecting those inside.
It was like holding ones breath. Eventually the air would run out, exhaustion of keeping a constant vigilance would take its toll on the healer. Days turned into nearly two weeks, the threat of the Eth taking the city crumbled as Arlathan’s forces pushed them back and out of the city. The weave of protective spells began to falter, one by one failing as her energy and the need for a final last defence evaporated with victory dawning on the final day.
Arlathan had survived.
She opened her eyes to sounds of cheering, comforting hands wrapped her up in a warm embrace that weren’t about to let her go and Megara managed a smile. The presence of Ruth’s magic lingered over her, but it felt far away, ghostly against the lull of unconsciousness and sleep.
[color=#008e02]“I’m glad… everyone’s fine… but I’mma just… shut my eyes for a,”[/color] a yawn took the ‘bit’ before she curled into the comforting sound of a ticking chest and sleep took her.
02-13-2024, 12:24 PM
