#[ emmrich and berthindeath verse: dark apprentice ] when you're in the half light it is not you i see

[scvcnofswords]

❛  10 .   a  kiss  against  a  wall . - for emmrich ( dark!gwen ) || @berthindeath || The Overwhelming Desire to Kiss prompts || Accepting

It feels, sometimes, as though there are shards of broken glass beneath sand, when he interacts with her. He never knows where he might step just wrong- but it makes sense, given all that she's been through, and the ways that Johanna had broken her trust into a shape that was more useful to her. He cannot imagine, truly, what she had been told of him, given how hard it had been for her to believe he could possibly care for her.

She still does not fully trust in him, does not always believe his words, and Emmrich would never dream to hold that against her. To find a path forward, he must earn that trust. Part of that had been his refusal to return her to Mourn Watch custody, when she had defied Johanna.

She had defied Johanna. She had thought she would have to die to find freedom from his once-friend's hold, but Emmrich-

Would never have let such a horror come to pass. She had haunted him without intending to from the moment that he had rescued her from the dungeons of the once-royal of Nevarra. He could not allow that haunting to become so much more literal.

He could not allow a heart as bright as hers, even when it had been dragged into the darkness, even when those whose hearts had already been snuffed by it tried to drown it in blood, to be extinguished entirely. It simply was not an option.

But that does lead to the moments like now, the air between them gone tense where he has stepped atop of a wound of hers that he had not properly seen. She is- bristling and her lilac gaze has gone overbright, wounded. Emmrich closes his eyes a moment, head bowing, before lifting his head to meet her gaze one more time, direct as he can.

"I am sorry," he says, quietly. "I did not mean to make you feel slighted, but I can see that I have. Regardless of my intent, I hurt you- I regret that." Carefully, he rises from his seat beside her- and then gently lays a hand upon her shoulder. "I shall give you some space, but should you need me, you are welcome to come find me in my wing of the Lighthouse. I am sure Manf-"

He isn't quite able to finish the words. The younger mage surges up beneath his hand, and Emmrich's eyes go wide as he slams back into the wall, her hands fisted in his vest. His gaze searches hers- for despite the violence of the movement, she had not slammed him into the wall hard enough to hurt- just enough to ensure that he couldn't resist against the movement.

Her gaze is burning- he cannot look away for even a moment. And then she surges up and onto her toes, her lips crashing into his.

The kiss is- fevered. Dizzying. Emmrich's eyes flutter shut despite himself, and he finds his hands on her waist- tugging her up and into him further, as the kiss steals the air from his lungs. A soft almost-moan escapes him, as he matches her intensity.

He- cannot lie. The affection, the attraction he feels to her- they burn like stars in the night, but he would have never dreamed-

And suddenly- the kiss gentles. He doesn't know if it's from her or from him, really- but either way, she's gentle too- either way, the push and pull of the kiss becomes something- tender. It aches in his throat- and he moves one hand to cradle the back of her head, stroking through her hair in a way he's wanted to do-

for longer than he cares to admit.

Slowly- they pull apart, but Emmrich- holds her, when she makes to pull away. Cannot look away from her, once again, as she- tentatively- settles back against his chest.

"What on earth did I do, to deserve such a gift?" he wonders softly, hand shifting to stroke her cheek.

[grcvewctcherarchivedarchived]

She puts on a good show; but Gwendolyn Ingellvar, at this point in her life, could not be unnassuming or non-threatening even if she put the whole of her heart and soul into it, Emmrich fears. There's too much anger and pain in her, a miasma of it that he can very nearly see cloaking her. It aches in his heart in the worst of ways, and he-

He cannot help but to feel responsible. Cannot help but to know he is responsible, at least in part, for what she's suffered to bring her to this point. This, perhaps, is one of the greatest of his failures, in the whole of his life.

He cannot give up on her, large in part because of that. He won't.

"I would not 'have you believe' anything that is not true, Gwendolyn," he says, agonized. "I will not do you the indignity of lying to you or trying to trick you. I have too much respect for you to do so. Please, this need not end in blood. Just- release her, and let us-" He flinches slightly as she throws the woman to the ground, but takes another cautious step towards her anyways, unable to quite stop himself.

And Manfred, moving with him, makes a wary but pleased hiss, slowly waving his skeletal fingers at the woman across from him and Emmrich. Emmrich's heart is a hummingbird within his throat, and he steps carefully to the side, laying his hands gently atop Manfred's shoulders to keep him close, but to allow him to step forward, into the light so that Gwendolyn can see him.

"- Yes. Curiosity. He chose- each and every one of the bones for this body, and has elected to go by the name 'Manfred," Emmrich says, voice tight and aching with emotion. "He was- a close friend of yours, as I recall. He has been- a very dear friend to me, as I attempt to teach him to navigate the physical world. But he has never forgotten you." Another cautiously pleased little hiss, and Manfred waves to her again- more eagerly, this time, as though hoping it will make her respond in kind.

He hated to let Manfred put himself into such a tense and fraught situation, but there is little else either of them can think of to try and get through to her- and it had been Manfred's own idea. If Emmrich doesn't let the little spirit try things that are important to him, it will only hurt him, in the end.

And he had once followed Gwen around the Necropolis as loyally as a hound, as the little blue and silver wisp he'd been for so long. His jeweled eyes glow that same blue, as he watches Gwen, head tilting to one side. "He wished- to come to see you."

The truth. Entirely. For Manfred shares Emmrich's fierce hope to- save her from herself, and from those leading her deeper into the dark.

Hands  raised  in  mocking  peace,  trying  to  appear  nonthreatening  when  she's  not  naive.  Emmrich  Volkarin  is  no  simple  mage;  a  man  of  renown  within  their  his  order.  Unparalleled  abilities  that  had  staff  and  student  body  alike  buzzing  with  his  skill  and  charm.  Charm  that  had  once  captivated  her  on  more  than  one  occasion  but  no  more  than  that  fateful  night.

She  could  still  smell  his  aftershave  on  his  skin,  the  warmth  of  his  voice  as  he  spoke  to  her  to  keep  her  conscious.  How  he'd  cradled  her  in  his  arms  with  his  cloak  wrapped  around  her  to  fight  the  chill  and  also  preserve  what  little  dignity  she  had  left.  Her  body  riddled  in  shallow  and  deep  cuts  that  seemed  to  ooze  endlessly  no  matter  what  he  did.  A  cloak  that's  tucked  away  in  a  trunk  back  at  the  compound.

Sentimentality.  Something  she  needs  to  rid  herself  of.  She  cannot  afford  to  lose  sight  of  things,  not  now.  Not  because  he's  finally  decided  to  show  up.

"  Oh,  pardon  me.  "  She  muses  bitterly,  reaching  up  to  drag  her  hand  across  the  captive  woman's  mouth,  sealing  it  shut  so  she  would  stop  her  aggravating  whining.  They  haven't  much  further  to  go  and  once  she's  dealt  with  this  little  road  block,  they  could  be  on  their  way.

But  then,  the  words  coming  from  the  necromancer's  mouth  has  her  mouth  twitching.

Until  she's  breaking  into  a  throaty  laugh.

"  You  would  have  me  believe  you,  wouldn't  you?  "  She  giggles  painfully  as  she  throws  the  woman  to  her  hands  and  knees,  the  chain  still  firm  in  her  grip  but  relaxed  enough  in  knowing  that  Emmrich  won't  attack  her  yet.  "  The  dying,  bleeding  girl  you  found  that  night  is  dead,  Volkarin,  you  and  your  colleagues  made  sure  of  that.  "

But  when  her  eyes  slide  to  the  skeleton  that  peeks  out  from  behind  the  professor  she  is  frozen.  The  lilac  aura  that  surrounds  it,  the  inherent  understanding  that  a  curiosity  spirit  is  housed  within  the  bone  construct—but  there  lives  a  familiarity  in  her  heart  that  she  had  not  been  anticipating.

Thoughts  of  soft  grass  beneath  bare  feet,  fingers  tangling  in  blue  creep  vine  as  the  wisp  bounces  against  the  crown  of  her  head.  Her  laughter  echoing  like  a  dream.

It  couldn't  be.  But  it  pulls  from  her  lungs  all  the  same  before  she  can  stop  it,

"...Curiosity?  "

[scvcnofswords]

tag dump for emmrich volkarin

[grcvewctcherarchivedarchived]

He cannot look away from her, even as he comes to a careful halt, watching her with eyes gone dark from- worry. From sorrow, too, a sorrow that has permeated his blood from the moment he'd first met the more junior Watcher on that ill-fated night.

Met and lost within twenty-four hours, due to his own foolishness, his own failings. And now look at where she has ended up- look at what she has been turned towards as a path.

He feels responsible for her, that much is true. It's a chain around his throat, pulling him down beneath the undertow of his own failings. Of his regrets. He raises his hand to show that he holds no weapons at the moments- which, true, means little to a mage, but he's not got many options, when it comes to Gwendolyn Ingellvar and the absolute conviction that he cannot abandon her.

Regardless of that she has fallen into Johanna's shadow, regardless of that she serves the Evanuris through her- he has to try. To reach out to her, to get her to take his hand. He should have done more that first night, when he'd given her his cloak, desperate to keep her warm and keep her awake.

"I cannot help but involve myself in matters of import, Gwendolyn," Emmrich murmurs quietly, not moving any closer as his eyes search hers, half to pleading. "And where you are concerned, that ranks rather high on my list. Please. I must implore you- release her. You are better than this- this terror you are invoking. We both know it." He aches to move closer, but does not trust her not to do something drastic if he tries.

Behind him, Manfred leans out and makes a worried hiss, jeweled lenses twisting and spinning as he too, looks to the lost Watcher, wringing his skeletal hands.

"Can we not discuss this?" he asks, voice going softer- he is not above pleading with her, if it would make the difference. If it would help him to save her soul. "I do not wish to fight you, you know that. Please. Let her go- let us talk." A deadline, she says, and his heart twists in his chest.

Deadline for what? What is Johanna having Gwendolyn dirty her hands for now?

@grcvewctcher - YOU COME AND GO IN WAVES, SWALLOWING EVERYTHING

The svelte woman jolts forward against her grip, trying to break free as she tries to cry out, but nothing comes out. The magic chokes the sound from her lungs, helpless against the necromancer who finally claws at her neck. There's a weariness in her gaze as she does so, weaving the fade to shackle her hands together so that she could not break free.

Gwendolyn cannot return empty handed.

But as she drops the woman from her grip to the cobblestone ground, now firmly trapped in the sickly green chains of her magic, she feels the atmosphere shift, a power that resonates under her feet like an omen. More powerful than even that of her mistress. The air curls under her chin; the scent of rosewood, mahogany, and incense. It has her heart clenching in her chest just as a voice penetrates the air—

" GWENDOLYN! "

Lilac hues snap behind her, exhaustion bruising her under eyes, days old cosmetics aging her as her vicious gaze lands on the mage before her. Towering presence, resolute verdant eyes that stare her down. But that power—she can feel it in the tips of her fingers, the heels of her feet. Anger flares in marriage with the flush of her skin, the attunement to his very presence. She could still feel the softness of the cloak on her shattered body, warmth of his neck—the feeling of his pulse against her skin keeping her conscious.

" I'm glad to finally know you... "

Emmrich Volkarin.

" La dracu— " She hisses as her grip on the chain pulls taut until the woman is up against her chest like a shield. Anything that might halt the senior mourn watcher from seizing her. Not when she is so close. Black clawed nails dig into the woman's flesh, her tears wet against her cheeks as Gwen positions her closer in front of her, but her focus is solely on the man before her. " You should really reconsider your presence here, professor. I'm on a deadline. "