(OOC: About a week after their initial encounter in the Vale and shortly after Luke reprimands him...)
[After his encounter with his Master, Darin couldn't shake this restless feeling. Something inside of him was deeply wrong. In conflict. All he knew was that he didn't want to be in the Empire at that moment. He wanted to be away. He wanted to calm down. Center himself.]
[It takes a few hours but Darin finds himself on the borders of the Vale. The fresh, crisp air filled his lungs. The peace, serenity an solitude helped him center himself. And without realizing, he's taken a seat on a fallen log right outside Cecelia's lodging. He hadn't chosen this particular place intentionally. It was where he found himself. Where he felt at ease enough to try and sort himself out.]
[She might find it shocking spying this blue haired man squatting outside of her home, but in his defense, he didn't even realize she lived there. Which is why he's sitting, back to her home, trying to sort through his thoughts. He doesn't even care when it starts raining. And before long he's soaked to the bone, staring off into some middle-distance while he tries to find out why he feels so out of sorts.]
Exactly how long are you planning to sit there, Altway? Are you waiting for a chance to unleash a mudslide or some other nonsense?
[he sure got plenty of time to get lost in the void of his thoughts, what with it taking some time for her to be home and passing by that particular window to get a glimpse of him. she'd been checking the sky for signs of rain, not for chance sightings of him! he haunted her enough, gods dammit!
...admittedly, the first glance she just assumed it was her imagination; it wouldn't be the first time her imagination had played tricks of this sort on her. but that was usually after a particularly gripping fiction, not a long day of work and vetting strangers. it's unsettling, considering neither Molly nor Adam warned her of his approach. so, of course he wasn't really there!
except he was the third and fourth times she checked. with a growing weight in her chest, she realized she wasn't kidding herself, and went out to check.
and that's where she is now, standing several feet away with her umbrella, clutching a shawl to herself and glaring at him warily, unsure of what to make of this.
he COULD still be just an apparition, after all...]
[she doesn't respond right away, having to very quickly keep from visibly showing how spooked this sort of response is to her. already, her pulse has quickened and her hands gone cold, but by the gods if she dares to bat even an eyelash in alarm she'll be done for.
so she doesn't! instead setting her expression as stonily as she can, even as the grip on her umbrella tightens while she considers the question -- and the state of him.]
There are many reasons and times for such a thing. The world...doesn't always need or want what a person can fully be at any given time.
[a long beat.]
You didn't find your answers in this realm, I wager.
[His voice hardly carries over the intensifying rain, but with her hearing, there's no doubt she heard it. His voice is...subdued. Alarmingly quiet. Like he's on the precipice of something but can't break through.]
[For a few minutes, there's nothing but the sound of the rain; the low rumble of distant thunder rolling over Appalachia.]
I'm...I can't shake this feeling that something's wrong. That I'm missing something. It's like there's a fog at my peripheries. And I always hated tunnel-vision. Especially when there's so much to see in the world.
[Several months had passed since the catastrophe that was the Synod. News had begun to properly spread, even as the death toll continues to rise. People missing, resistances crumbling, merging, disbanding as ideologies clash, it seemed like everything was more fractured than it had ever been.]
[Emperor Skywalker had died at the Synod. The Empire had fallen, destroyed by one of Skywalker's own adjudicators. He'd become something immeasurable. Something wholly dedicated to seeing everything the Emperor built brought to ruin. And somehow, even Jadus, whatever he had become, had met a grim fate.]
[The Empire was gone. A chapter in this world's history that will some day likely fascinate scholars...but to those who saw its rise and fall, it will be a ruined monument to hubris. It was gone and all those who seemingly lived there died with it. Even the one who brought Jadus down vanished with nary a trace.]
[Several months have passed and despite the unrest whirling about outside, the Vale is likely to be doing well given its secluded nature. So it's a little worrisome that some have called upon the Vale's caretaker. Someone appears to be approaching from the east. A man who, at one point stood tall and confident, reduced to hobbling on a gnarled staff made of lashed together wood and metal. His broad body emaciated, muscles lacking any real definition, clothes practically sloughing off of his frame. But most noticeably, his vibrant blue hair hangs matted, framing his face, mussed and long falls halfway down his back. And from beneath unkempt and shaggy bangs, green eyes seek out someone familiar.]
[He's stopped at the entrance and he scratches at the scruff on his chin and cheek, blue hair filling out sunken a pale face and slightly gaunt features. When asked to identify himself, he coughs.]
[Cecelia does not enjoy it when her hunches are right, because she tends to assume the worst. she didn't want the worst! gods, all she wanted was her measure of peace...
she got it, of course, but it wasn't a comfortable sort of peace. instead, she got to sit in the silence of her vale with what remained of those who came with her. not many who went with her to the Synod came back, and those who made it out...left anyway.
can't blame them, wouldn't think to.
still awful. turns out she didn't mind having company -- company she curated, at least.
there's also the matter of Darin...and how she'd yet again seen another wretched prophecy of doom fulfilled. enjoy it while it lasts, she'd thought, kissing that man, because it certainly won't.
gods, the universe certainly had to slap her for that one in record time, didn't it?
of course she grieved. losing a friend twice over, perhaps something more than that this one single time she dropped her guard? absolutely fucking figures, and she has no one to blame but herself. she'll still cry about it and no one can stop her...because most everyone is dead anyway.
bitterness and malaise keeps her company for those months, passing by both slowly and swiftly, as time ever does for her. it's more a torment because she finds herself unable to focus on writing or reading the things she's fond of, and so whittling hours away on busywork was her only recourse. not great for her mood.
her mood doesn't improve much at all when she hears there's been a fresh find on the border -- nothing completely new in these new after-times, but never something to be desired. when that husk of a man is brought into the longhouse, Cecelia is over in short order, already a small thunderstorm of a foul mood. her nose wrinkles right away at the state (and smell?) of him, repulsed on-sight, but not cruelhearted enough to immediately turn such a sight out. gods damned bleeding heart.]
How in the world did you find your way out here in such a state? You look like the undead an--
[she'd bent forward to peer past the matted bangs to try and get a look at the man's face and, having caught glimpse of something she knew, recoiled with a horrified gasp, clapping her hands over her mouth.]
[A wry smile creaks and cracks its way across his features, a flash of a youthful grin still there beneath the grime and the scruff.]
[He forces himself to stand. His knees wobble as if the ground were quaking violently and he leans heavily on the staff that acted as the much needed third leg, but he gets there. And when he stands upright...well, it's all there. He's all there. Sure he's worse for ware and barely standing but he's there. All his bits and pieces, four limbs, ten fingers and ten toes. In desperate need of a shave and a haircut but...]
I think I look a little better than 'undead.' Kinda implies I've been decomposing. M'still all here, you know.
[His voice is hoarse but...well what can you expect? But it was still him.]
...Sorry it took me this long to get back to you, Lady Ardenbury.
[He decides to go with the formal. There's no telling how mad she is or if she even cares about him like that anymore. At the very least, he could try and be aware and sensitive of her feelings. Though he still hoped there was room in her heart for him.]
[she can barely croak a word out, so utterly flummoxed by this reveal. Soap opera stars at least get their scripts in advance for such things -- that way they can gasp and react in the prettiest, most camera-friendly ways possible. same goes for the simpering, whimpering fools in fiction, as there's rarely an ugly cry to ruin the perfect reunion.
Cecelia, who used to consume that stuff as if it were required to live, who used to daydream about her own heartfelt reunions, even script a few in her day, can't possibly think of any of it. not when he's gone and defied prophecy like this!
she starts to weep, her legs giving way and sending her to the floor as she tries to stop herself, face in her hands.]
[He's there to catch her, though he's not going to be staying up. This act of heroism, of actively sweeping her into his arms, is brought to you by the ever helpful force of gravity, rather than any strength in his body. But hey, the intent is there.]
[And so he's holding her slightly against himself, where she can feel the tightly corded muscles occasionally punctuated by the jab of bone here and there. He's lost so much of himself but yet there was still so much of him left; his little idiosyncrosies, his warmth, his outlook.]
Yeah...Yeah it's me...
M'back.
[He pets her hair a bit, half expecting a slap or a pointed jab to his chest or some torrent of anger to fly at him. He'd deserve it, after all. It's been months and he'd never even contacted her.]
[ Some time after receiving Cecelia's letter, she'll have received a summons to the castle throne room to stand before Arthur. He sits upon the throne when she enters, as a king is wont to do, and waits for the proper greetings to take place. Cecelia is announced to him, and he is announced to her, then he speaks. ]
I understand, Miss Ardenbury, that you and many of your peers are not able to trust that we need your assistance for what it is we seek. In turn, I hope that you understand that if we are to eventually accomplish a solution, we cannot spend all our time proving our plight to every new arrival and every ounce of proof we offer will in turn be questioned by skeptics save for one.
[ His voice does not sound as if he is intent on turning her down, however. It would have been unnecessary to summon her if there was no intention to show her, after all. ]
Which is why I would instead enlist your assistance in exchange for doing so. Will you hear me out?
Of course, your Highness. If it is within my means.
[she didn't expect this to be free. though she wonders how many have actually gotten this far in asking for proof... eh. doesn't matter now that she's so close, does it?
being amenable matters more now than it did at the onset, and so she means to be, her expression level and her eyes fixed as she waits to hear his offer.]
[ Cecelia is the first one to directly ask for it like this, actually, though there have been plenty of people who complained about trust. This is why he thinks that this is a good task to bestow upon her. She has the strength to seek out information where she needs it and the confidence to lead others from first impressions. ]
It will be within your means. Morganna has agreed to take an ambassador for the otherworlders to the End of the World and provide you with an armlet totem that can take you to and from the Camelot totem. It is possible to view the frozen calamity from there, but it is not a trip we can make for every newcomer. Should you choose to accept it, we will charge you with taking your peers to see it with their own eyes when they need proof. We have three of these armlets, so you may choose two others you trust to support this mission. If you choose not to, then I will take your recommendations for someone who would go in your stead.
[ But it's certainly an opportunity he wants to trust the otherworlders with- they are much more likely to believe peers, and seeing is believing for the rest. ]
Cecelia lifts her chin a bit higher to stave off the want to sigh with relief. now this is more her wheelhouse -- far better than ambling around waiting for nonsense to befall her.
two others, hm...? that will take more consideration. but this part? for herself? ha:] I accept. Will these armlets expire, the way other totems appear to?
thanks so much for your patience! we're working on getting back on top of things!
[ Arthur gestures toward someone standing on the sidelines, who carries a chest up to him. It's wooden, artfully crafted by hand, but it does look new. ]
Morganna said these will work whenever you want, but only to and from the End of the World. It is surrounded by the Perilous Desert, so you shouldn't stray. It is so named for a reason. The End itself should be safe, so long as you take care not to step off.
We definitely have a different definition of brief, Cece, but good questions are always worth the time.
1. Cellwig is handling the fallout of what happened there, while Arthur is in my capable hands. Cellwig has a pretty understanding of what happened, so it's best to leave figuring that out to them.
2. No changes is for the best, tbh. If time starts moving all of a sudden, we have a problem on our hands. That's pretty much the most important thing to keep in mind.
3. They should be. You can check for yourself in our library. They're in no way secret, you know.
4. That's part of the reason we need to talk with Elphame. The angry ghosts are hindering that plan quite a bit so information will be delayed accordingly.
Hopefully these helped with at least some of that curiosity you have.
If all things could be resolved in 200 words or less, we'd hardly be in such a predicament, would we?
In any case, thank you for what you've managed to share, threadbare or otherwise.
Some followup:
1. Are you certain leaving the investigation of fell magic solely in the hands of Celliwig is wise? Is there commitment that we'll see its results at all?
2. Who was it who cast the barrier keeping Avalon in tact? What can degrade or reinforce it?
Is a joint investigation out of the question, though? Arthur himself was directly affected. It'd make sense.
And as for the lady Morganna...do you suppose she would be amenable to discussing the properties of her barrier? For the sake of keeping tabs on its overall integrity.
With regards to the issue I first raised at our meeting earlier this month, I believe I have discovered the truth of the nature of Avalon and our existence here.
This is reality now.
The full explanation is complicated, philosophical, and frankly terrifying, so be prepared for quite a lot of information should you want to hear it. But it isn't that our powers have been suppressed or removed. It isn't that anyone's biology or spirit has changed here. This is who we ARE.
[It takes Morgan very little time to get there, and his arrival comes in much the same way as before -- strolling on in, then spinning the chair and dropping into it. Without formality this time, since he's expected, and because he's not thinking about the polite and formal ways Cecelia prefers things. This might be an intrusion he has to apologize for later, but for now, well... the extremely uncharacteristic frown on his face is perhaps alarming enough to earn him a measure of forgiveness.]
This is going to be really hard to explain, so don't hesitate to badger me till you get a proper explanation.
[No prelude, no pleasantries, not even a token flirtation just to tweak her. That's how it is.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[ACTION]
[After his encounter with his Master, Darin couldn't shake this restless feeling. Something inside of him was deeply wrong. In conflict. All he knew was that he didn't want to be in the Empire at that moment. He wanted to be away. He wanted to calm down. Center himself.]
[It takes a few hours but Darin finds himself on the borders of the Vale. The fresh, crisp air filled his lungs. The peace, serenity an solitude helped him center himself. And without realizing, he's taken a seat on a fallen log right outside Cecelia's lodging. He hadn't chosen this particular place intentionally. It was where he found himself. Where he felt at ease enough to try and sort himself out.]
[She might find it shocking spying this blue haired man squatting outside of her home, but in his defense, he didn't even realize she lived there. Which is why he's sitting, back to her home, trying to sort through his thoughts. He doesn't even care when it starts raining. And before long he's soaked to the bone, staring off into some middle-distance while he tries to find out why he feels so out of sorts.]
no subject
[he sure got plenty of time to get lost in the void of his thoughts, what with it taking some time for her to be home and passing by that particular window to get a glimpse of him. she'd been checking the sky for signs of rain, not for chance sightings of him! he haunted her enough, gods dammit!
...admittedly, the first glance she just assumed it was her imagination; it wouldn't be the first time her imagination had played tricks of this sort on her. but that was usually after a particularly gripping fiction, not a long day of work and vetting strangers. it's unsettling, considering neither Molly nor Adam warned her of his approach. so, of course he wasn't really there!
except he was the third and fourth times she checked. with a growing weight in her chest, she realized she wasn't kidding herself, and went out to check.
and that's where she is now, standing several feet away with her umbrella, clutching a shawl to herself and glaring at him warily, unsure of what to make of this.
he COULD still be just an apparition, after all...]
no subject
[And when he does respond...it really doesn't answer a question. He poses a question of his own.]
...Have you ever felt like...
... ... ...
Have you ever felt like you were 'bottled up?' Like part of you was in some sort of corked up container and you can't explain why?
no subject
so she doesn't! instead setting her expression as stonily as she can, even as the grip on her umbrella tightens while she considers the question -- and the state of him.]
There are many reasons and times for such a thing. The world...doesn't always need or want what a person can fully be at any given time.
[a long beat.]
You didn't find your answers in this realm, I wager.
no subject
[His voice hardly carries over the intensifying rain, but with her hearing, there's no doubt she heard it. His voice is...subdued. Alarmingly quiet. Like he's on the precipice of something but can't break through.]
[For a few minutes, there's nothing but the sound of the rain; the low rumble of distant thunder rolling over Appalachia.]
I'm...I can't shake this feeling that something's wrong. That I'm missing something. It's like there's a fog at my peripheries. And I always hated tunnel-vision. Especially when there's so much to see in the world.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
[Emperor Skywalker had died at the Synod. The Empire had fallen, destroyed by one of Skywalker's own adjudicators. He'd become something immeasurable. Something wholly dedicated to seeing everything the Emperor built brought to ruin. And somehow, even Jadus, whatever he had become, had met a grim fate.]
[The Empire was gone. A chapter in this world's history that will some day likely fascinate scholars...but to those who saw its rise and fall, it will be a ruined monument to hubris. It was gone and all those who seemingly lived there died with it. Even the one who brought Jadus down vanished with nary a trace.]
[Several months have passed and despite the unrest whirling about outside, the Vale is likely to be doing well given its secluded nature. So it's a little worrisome that some have called upon the Vale's caretaker. Someone appears to be approaching from the east. A man who, at one point stood tall and confident, reduced to hobbling on a gnarled staff made of lashed together wood and metal. His broad body emaciated, muscles lacking any real definition, clothes practically sloughing off of his frame. But most noticeably, his vibrant blue hair hangs matted, framing his face, mussed and long falls halfway down his back. And from beneath unkempt and shaggy bangs, green eyes seek out someone familiar.]
[He's stopped at the entrance and he scratches at the scruff on his chin and cheek, blue hair filling out sunken a pale face and slightly gaunt features. When asked to identify himself, he coughs.]
You wouldn't believe me if I told you...
no subject
she got it, of course, but it wasn't a comfortable sort of peace. instead, she got to sit in the silence of her vale with what remained of those who came with her. not many who went with her to the Synod came back, and those who made it out...left anyway.
can't blame them, wouldn't think to.
still awful. turns out she didn't mind having company -- company she curated, at least.
there's also the matter of Darin...and how she'd yet again seen another wretched prophecy of doom fulfilled. enjoy it while it lasts, she'd thought, kissing that man, because it certainly won't.
gods, the universe certainly had to slap her for that one in record time, didn't it?
of course she grieved. losing a friend twice over, perhaps something more than that this one single time she dropped her guard? absolutely fucking figures, and she has no one to blame but herself. she'll still cry about it and no one can stop her...because most everyone is dead anyway.
bitterness and malaise keeps her company for those months, passing by both slowly and swiftly, as time ever does for her. it's more a torment because she finds herself unable to focus on writing or reading the things she's fond of, and so whittling hours away on busywork was her only recourse. not great for her mood.
her mood doesn't improve much at all when she hears there's been a fresh find on the border -- nothing completely new in these new after-times, but never something to be desired. when that husk of a man is brought into the longhouse, Cecelia is over in short order, already a small thunderstorm of a foul mood. her nose wrinkles right away at the state (and smell?) of him, repulsed on-sight, but not cruelhearted enough to immediately turn such a sight out. gods damned bleeding heart.]
How in the world did you find your way out here in such a state? You look like the undead an--
[she'd bent forward to peer past the matted bangs to try and get a look at the man's face and, having caught glimpse of something she knew, recoiled with a horrified gasp, clapping her hands over her mouth.]
no subject
[He forces himself to stand. His knees wobble as if the ground were quaking violently and he leans heavily on the staff that acted as the much needed third leg, but he gets there. And when he stands upright...well, it's all there. He's all there. Sure he's worse for ware and barely standing but he's there. All his bits and pieces, four limbs, ten fingers and ten toes. In desperate need of a shave and a haircut but...]
I think I look a little better than 'undead.' Kinda implies I've been decomposing. M'still all here, you know.
[His voice is hoarse but...well what can you expect? But it was still him.]
...Sorry it took me this long to get back to you, Lady Ardenbury.
[He decides to go with the formal. There's no telling how mad she is or if she even cares about him like that anymore. At the very least, he could try and be aware and sensitive of her feelings. Though he still hoped there was room in her heart for him.]
no subject
[she can barely croak a word out, so utterly flummoxed by this reveal. Soap opera stars at least get their scripts in advance for such things -- that way they can gasp and react in the prettiest, most camera-friendly ways possible. same goes for the simpering, whimpering fools in fiction, as there's rarely an ugly cry to ruin the perfect reunion.
Cecelia, who used to consume that stuff as if it were required to live, who used to daydream about her own heartfelt reunions, even script a few in her day, can't possibly think of any of it. not when he's gone and defied prophecy like this!
she starts to weep, her legs giving way and sending her to the floor as she tries to stop herself, face in her hands.]
no subject
[And so he's holding her slightly against himself, where she can feel the tightly corded muscles occasionally punctuated by the jab of bone here and there. He's lost so much of himself but yet there was still so much of him left; his little idiosyncrosies, his warmth, his outlook.]
Yeah...Yeah it's me...
M'back.
[He pets her hair a bit, half expecting a slap or a pointed jab to his chest or some torrent of anger to fly at him. He'd deserve it, after all. It's been months and he'd never even contacted her.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
action; end of March
I understand, Miss Ardenbury, that you and many of your peers are not able to trust that we need your assistance for what it is we seek. In turn, I hope that you understand that if we are to eventually accomplish a solution, we cannot spend all our time proving our plight to every new arrival and every ounce of proof we offer will in turn be questioned by skeptics save for one.
[ His voice does not sound as if he is intent on turning her down, however. It would have been unnecessary to summon her if there was no intention to show her, after all. ]
Which is why I would instead enlist your assistance in exchange for doing so. Will you hear me out?
no subject
[she didn't expect this to be free. though she wonders how many have actually gotten this far in asking for proof... eh. doesn't matter now that she's so close, does it?
being amenable matters more now than it did at the onset, and so she means to be, her expression level and her eyes fixed as she waits to hear his offer.]
no subject
It will be within your means. Morganna has agreed to take an ambassador for the otherworlders to the End of the World and provide you with an armlet totem that can take you to and from the Camelot totem. It is possible to view the frozen calamity from there, but it is not a trip we can make for every newcomer. Should you choose to accept it, we will charge you with taking your peers to see it with their own eyes when they need proof. We have three of these armlets, so you may choose two others you trust to support this mission. If you choose not to, then I will take your recommendations for someone who would go in your stead.
[ But it's certainly an opportunity he wants to trust the otherworlders with- they are much more likely to believe peers, and seeing is believing for the rest. ]
no subject
Cecelia lifts her chin a bit higher to stave off the want to sigh with relief. now this is more her wheelhouse -- far better than ambling around waiting for nonsense to befall her.
two others, hm...? that will take more consideration. but this part? for herself? ha:] I accept. Will these armlets expire, the way other totems appear to?
thanks so much for your patience! we're working on getting back on top of things!
[ Arthur gestures toward someone standing on the sidelines, who carries a chest up to him. It's wooden, artfully crafted by hand, but it does look new. ]
Morganna said these will work whenever you want, but only to and from the End of the World. It is surrounded by the Perilous Desert, so you shouldn't stray. It is so named for a reason. The End itself should be safe, so long as you take care not to step off.
no worries c:
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
DM from @OGmerlin
We definitely have a different definition of brief, Cece, but good questions are always worth the time.
1. Cellwig is handling the fallout of what happened there, while Arthur is in my capable hands. Cellwig has a pretty understanding of what happened, so it's best to leave figuring that out to them.
2. No changes is for the best, tbh. If time starts moving all of a sudden, we have a problem on our hands. That's pretty much the most important thing to keep in mind.
3. They should be. You can check for yourself in our library. They're in no way secret, you know.
4. That's part of the reason we need to talk with Elphame. The angry ghosts are hindering that plan quite a bit so information will be delayed accordingly.
Hopefully these helped with at least some of that curiosity you have.
no subject
In any case, thank you for what you've managed to share, threadbare or otherwise.
Some followup:
1. Are you certain leaving the investigation of fell magic solely in the hands of Celliwig is wise? Is there commitment that we'll see its results at all?
2. Who was it who cast the barrier keeping Avalon in tact? What can degrade or reinforce it?
no subject
Right now, building trust is what's important. It would look bad if we started our own investigation. I do believe we will get answers in time.
The barrier was cast by Morganna. How to take it down is top secret.
no subject
And as for the lady Morganna...do you suppose she would be amenable to discussing the properties of her barrier? For the sake of keeping tabs on its overall integrity.
no subject
Morganna won't appear unless she is properly summoned and given offerings. And even if you managed that she wouldn't discuss her methods with anyone.
(no subject)
(no subject)
Text; un: akashicknight
With regards to the issue I first raised at our meeting earlier this month, I believe I have discovered the truth of the nature of Avalon and our existence here.
This is reality now.
The full explanation is complicated, philosophical, and frankly terrifying, so be prepared for quite a lot of information should you want to hear it. But it isn't that our powers have been suppressed or removed. It isn't that anyone's biology or spirit has changed here. This is who we ARE.
no subject
Let us meet somewhere to discuss this. My office will do, or if you've a more discreet location, I'll accept it.
no subject
no subject
Awaaay we go -> action
This is going to be really hard to explain, so don't hesitate to badger me till you get a proper explanation.
[No prelude, no pleasantries, not even a token flirtation just to tweak her. That's how it is.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)