Evrali (prime)/Koaratos

OOC Note: The content below is not common knowledge. It is provided here for entertainment value and should not be taken as in-character knowledge unless shared in-game and in-character.

Evrali, a cabin near Solhaven at night, Koaratos 5118

Curled up in a leather armchair with her legs tucked under herself, she watches the fire burning low in the hearth. One hand rests idly on the head of a bloodhound leaning against the chair, her fingers distractedly rubbing his ears. Her dark eyes close briefly, her brows drawing together in an unhappy grimace.

Speaking to Wihliam, Ysharra says, "Hi. We're adventurers."

Speaking to Wihliam, Ysharra says, "We're here to rescue you."

Before Wihliam can begin to play there is the strained sound of a string snapping.

Mynon blinks.

Gavrien winces.

Thrassus winces.

Then another string snaps. Then another, and another.

String after string snaps on the harp until all are broken. And then a loud crack rings out as the metal frame itself snaps, and the harp tumbles to the ground.

Bristenn loudly sighs, "So you only see up to him receiving it? You don't see its creation, its creators?"

Gavrien growls, "You wanna take over, jackass?"

Speaking flatly to Gavrien, Bristenn replies, "I was under the impression you knew what you were doing.".

Gavrien says, "These things unravel on their own agenda, don't look at me."

Raelee says, "He can likely be debriefed on the morrow. He may have more information when he is... stabilized."

Speaking to Raelee, Malvernus says, "If he stabilizes."

Gavrien scratches his chin.

She flinches suddenly, her eyes opening again and her fingers unconsciously jerking the hound’s ears. He whines at her and she murmurs soothingly, her attention briefly diverted to pacifying him.

Perhaps nudged closer to wakefulness from the sound of her voice, a black-haired man rolls over in the mahogany-framed bed. All but mumbling into his pillow, he sleepily reminds her, “If you’re going out again, take him.”

She gives a slow nod, her fingers still stroking the dog’s head in apology. Standing, she carefully moves around the dog to build up the fire again and pauses next to the hooks by the door. After a moment, she picks the grey wool coat over the lightweight linen one. Hesitating at the door, she kneels next to the waiting bloodhound and whispers, “This time, it’ll just be me.”

She stands again and slips out the door, turning to block the dog from escaping with her. As she closes the iron-barred door behind her, he lies down near it and whines softly.

Leaning against the parapet at the top of Fasthr’s Lance, she watches the first hints of sunrise against the darkened bay. Her fingers brush over the shield pattern etched into the nearest crenellation as if seeking comfort from the sturdy masonry. She shifts slightly, her brows drawing together again.

Her voice sounds hesitant as she says quietly, “I am sorry, you know. For thinking you were doing the attacks deliberately and for the end.” After a long moment, she adds, “And for the ‘gift’ you unlocked. I never wanted any of it.”

Turning, she quietly makes her way down the black steel stairwell, resolutely keeping her eyes away from the stone walls of the infirmary as she passes through.

Moments after she exits the tower, the sound of a string snapping echoes faintly through the empty infirmary.