#Lithirill Andethil

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

~   “And it was at this moment as Selna thrust her spade into the ground to erect the first palisade, that Malphas spoke unto her; Enderal, the land of a thousand leaves, which shall outlast the -millennia-! This shall be the name of the new kingdom.”      Lithirill read from the tome in her hands as she peered up at the blazing red star for which the clouds seemed to part, snapping The Path shut and tucking it into her woolen robes. “It never fails to interest that Malphas seemed so attached to that name, an   Enderal poised at both the West and the East corners upon Vyn. Though... only one still stands of course.”

Snow crunched under heeled boots as another behind her scoffed aloud, a puff of steam billowing out. “The only interesting thing about that book is that both his guiding star and his supposed ‘kingdom’ have both outlasted -him-. The irony. We’ll see how long that will last, the way things are going with Taranor and the Ring.”

Narathzul spoke in mocking tone, making an uncouth gesture toward the sky. He only tensed a little when his partner’s fingers settled between his shoulders, quick to mimic her action and drape an arm across her back.

“It shall stand in some form or another, regardless of what comes. The land claimed and the crimson star above stood the test of time long before Malphas ever made use of them. It tests my memory to recall it, but twas by the light of that star we chased our King here, to enact our final battle- Malphas leading the charge, as was ever his wont. No doubt it bore special significance to him.”

The third voice was quiet in his recollection, a trail traced in the snow by feathers he was yet accustomed to having again as he joined the pair.

Lithirill smiled warmly when his fingers sought her own, Arkt knowing well the weight that plagued her, his presence and touch assurances of his promise. 

Taking heart in the presence of both souls, she took in a deep breath of icy air, borne of a winter that would not retreat for another moon, putting aside her worries and pondering at least the merit of what possibilities the turning of a clock could gift.

“So ancient a thing...” she murmured, “Whatever shall it witness in the times to come, I wonder?” 

~

For @jilljoycearts​ ‘s Arrival prompt!   Late, and one of a couple, but it was nice to have reason to draw them together again.  =)

[anabysmalorator]

i will explain myself at some point, but until then, have pictures

[todays-fixation-is-spite]

DEJ2021 #1:  Good Tea, Good Book {1 of 22}

DrawEverythingJune by @AdorkaStock

Been meaning to do this challenge and actually finish it since the first. Need to kick the “motivation” bug to the curb and just produce something/anything.

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

OT3eeeeeeeeeeeeee

aight, now do your’s  \o/

Found this one picrew and liked it instantly

You’re very welcome to try too 👀

[link]

[dueliz]

Happy holidays y’all!! 🎉

Here’s my Secret Santa for @ani-does-vyn of their Nehrim MC,  Lithirill Andethil! Hope you like it and have yourself a wonderful day today, tomorrow, and always! ♥

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

                          A Story in Spring: Renewal {3/3}

Lithirill would ever covet the certain luxuriousness of Tirmatralian brandy.

Her eyes settled on the moon high above, full and bright, accompanied by a sea of twinkling stars that complimented the cloudless, warm night of a coming Summer. An unpleasant twinge reminded her of a far more chaotic sky-scape, where in place of stars one could argue that -worlds- floated in their place; Fate's Edge. 

Shivering free from the memory, the aeterna's fingers trembled as she brought her glass to her lips again, focusing instead on the still growing town of Darlan below. Much like she had been, the populace of surviving residents and new arrivals had busied themselves extensively in revitilization efforts.  She played as much of a part as she could, but there was a respectful distance her charges kept; at first she'd worried it was out of -fear-, but as a few of them had put it, it was more the desire to achieve it on their own.

Lithirill could respect that, pondering what more she could do to occupy her time. She had long since successfully returned Narathzul to his physical form, the man content to remain distant in her home city of Al-Rashim so he might find his footing. So too had she completed the arduous task of reconstructing a full set of seraphim wings, knowing she would never forget the spectacle of watching Arkt take flight for the first time in centuries, after so much toil. A joyous event, that had pulled even tears from the old seraph...

Her mind drifted far into the past, remembering the inspirations that had indirectly lead her here. Perhaps that was what she would do next... She had done right by both Narathzul and Arkt for their parts in seeing her this far, now was the time to pick up the old pieces of her studies; reversing the rampant magical contamination eating away at so many places.

She could start with Ostian. After all, it would be a less direct means of keeping an eye on the wily King Taranor Coarek; a man who'd already begun to grow fitful in peace time, having the audacity to proclaim in -her- name the need to "tame" the Southrealm while it was yet without a ruler. The thought didn't escape her that she -could- be more direct in keeping Nehrim from suffering even greater bloodshed...but who would she be then? A hero, or a tyrant? The answer could not be -force- when diplomacy and good sense failed, both of which she had attempted with the northern King, but what then of the indolence of ignoring him? She was all things that could proclaim the right to turn her back on petty "mortal" squabbles while she solved the world's deeper woes, yet she'd be a hypocrite at best, an exact reflection of the regime she'd brought down at worst.  It seemed no matter what she chose to do about the stirrings of yet more war, she would be at fault in some way-  she could almost hear the venerable Tyr laughing at her struggle.

The tension, despite the beauty of the skies, was palpable. The sense of foreboding hanging over her shoulders had been there since her strange dreams and her terrifying encounter with the soul wardens some months prior. The woman had been non-stop in keeping herself busy since then, but now in the idleness, how quickly that existential dread returned.

In that moment of stifling weight, came the flare of power that announced an arrival of one who always seemed to know when she danced overlong with her troubles without entertaining his considerable aged input. She kept her back turned, sipping at her brandy as she tilted her head at the heaviness of his footfalls; his strides were long, and then she heard the rustling of feathers... She figured out what was to happen all too late, as she barely had time to turn and set her glass down before Arkt's arms found themselves sweeping Lithirill cleanly off her feet, the world awhirl with motion for a handful of heartbeats as inertia flipped her stomach. She might've had something to say about how he'd plucked her from her own balcony like a hawk with a hare, but alas, she noticed first just how much -space- there was between herself and the ground, promptly -clinging- to him, turning her head into his hair.

"...Arkt, I swear to-!"  She began, feeling a wave of actual fright and quieting.   They briefly dipped in the air as Arkt wheezed with a short laugh, cracking a grin.

"Whatever is there left to swear to?  -Us-?"  

She dared to peek, an incredulous look swept off her face as she beheld Arkt in rare form.

-Joy- colored every inch of his visible features, as golden hues angled to meet her's.  

"Don't worry, you're in no danger of falling. A rather convenient current blows up into the mountains, and makes for the perfect glide from your abode to mine. This is hardly a strenuous flight."

As he spoke, she still hazarded to keep her head -away- from the yawning distance below. Securely in his grip or not, she could still imagine how quickly they'd plummet if his wings gave in any fashion. It was dreadful... It wasn't lost on her how significant this moment was likely supposed to be.

"Are you afraid of heights? Your composure on the Starship had me fooled.~" he inquired, tone as much amused as growing concerned.

"...less heights, and more freefalls." she muttered, alluding to her forays into Nehrim's deeper crevices, which she was certain he had spied upon.

Surprising her yet again, he would draw her away from the past as he pressed a kiss to her hair, keen to watch her cheeks color with some amusement.

"We'll land before you know it." he assured.

The remainder of their time in the air was spent in quiet, Lithirill resolving to take Arkt's timely arrival as the boon it was, settling into watching his feathers sway in the wind. Meditative enough that the awkwardness of the whole arrangement felt far away. Such nearness had gotten easier with time, bordering upon natural now.

As the rather humble cottage came into view, Arkt descended, his wings spreading their widest whilst letting his legs swing toward the earth, landing gracefully and without jostling his charge even a little. The opposite from the crash landing of his first attempt back in the sky.

Setting her down, he was not shy in keeping a wing curled around her while she got her feet under her, offering an apologetic smile.

"Had I known-"

Lithirill lifted a finger to his lips, seeing the seraph blink at her.

"No need for that, my dear. I think I spoiled that lovely gesture enough without you apologizing for it too.~" she murmured, letting her hand fall to her side and idly run a long feather betwixt her fingers, "By the by, was that the surprise you teased at when the snows were setting in?" 

Arkt would exhale quietly, his mane of half-curls tumbling over his shoulder as he hummed a chuckle, canting his head to the side, his eyes flicking between the door to his home and her.

"In part.  I'm surprised you recall, after so many long nights.~"  he returned, his wing curling about her form more tightly as he stepped closer, drawing her flush against him.

She took his cue, though trepidation was catching her, as ever it had and always it would, she suspected. She was, for the first time, plenty welcome as she ran a palm up his muscled form, while the other lost itself between plumage and mane. She took the time to lean back just a little to eye him up and down so she might properly observe how his physique had changed now that his wings were healthy; twas a sight to behold.

"I've said it before Arkt..." she swallowed, striving unsuccessfully to keep the fluttering from beneath her ribs inobvious, "I'm not sure there's anything you could ever do that I'd count as forgettable."

While she floundered, he was the picture of patient certainty, watching her eyes wander before he'd gently cup her jaw and reorient her point of focus.

"Hmmnh...That sounds a touch fanatical." he teased gently, keen to see the last bits of her mask fall away, revealing that quiet, over curious scholar he had been fond of ever since she meandered brave and foolish into Arktwend,  "...but I appreciate the sentiment."

Lithirill lips twitched as he held her at the precipice; again.  She prepared for the inevitable halt, the respectful redrawing of borders, and in seeing that worry play clear in her eyes, Arkt claimed her lips for his own.

He snaked an arm behind her hips, supporting her form as he indulged a thought abandoned desire, savoring each passing moment as the woman in his arms all but fell into him. Reluctantly, he pulled away, keeping her snugly in place.

"You worry too much.~"  he whispered, the statement pulling a husky chuckle out of her. "I'd have you forget your troubles for a time. Or at least until the morrow.~"

                                                   ~Fin~

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

                         A Story in Spring : Renewal {1/3} 

"I have a proposition for you."

The walls of the fallen seraph's humble hut had so far been something of a passive comfort, yet Lithirill found no sense of ease.  Her host, and fellow Tel'lmaltath could certainly tell, eyeing her with some hint of concern, slowly rising to his full height, turning to face her once the fire had suitably caught. "Go on."

The encouraging mannerism was commonplace in their interactions thus far, but it didn't do much to make her desirous of speaking her mind, as images played in her head of all she had been plotting in secret, only thinking to bring the matter to him when she -knew- beyond a doubt she could -achieve- her goals. "It is a...personal matter, to you specifically.  I hesitate to even ask, truthfully." At that notion, her company raised  a sculpted brow. How he might've read her words differed from what she seemed to mean by her body language; a normally stood straight, confident woman now half hunched and barely maintaining eye contact.  He simply watched, resting a hand along his hip. It was the only prompt to continue she was going to get. "...Right.  -Arkt-.  I will speak plainly." even then she hesitated, a sigh accompanying an expression of complete honesty, "...I want to reconstruct your wings. I would see you fly again."  

There weren't many things reality could offer him that still surprised, but that had done it, the gentle carefulness in her tone most of all. It wasn't just an offer, but a plea. Arkt's gaze fell to his floorboards, called back to the moment she had seen the tattered remnants, and the conversation that followed where he learned much and more about the individual he chose to champion. Her perseverance in the face of impossible odds had ensured his second chance at freedom from past mistakes, yet here she was still giving. It was not debt fueling her either, but desire, leading him to a thought forgotten sensation; confoundment.

Lithirill only fidgeted in the quiet, narrowing her eyes in passive calculation, half braced for some kind of impact. It took him some several moments to recover, clearing his throat. The ever-present ache at his back he'd still struggled with flared up. Even to this day, the injury pained him, centuries "dead" had been his only reprieve.

"You are firmly familiar with the reasons I lost them in the first place..." he began, watching his company instinctively tense, ready for rejection; instead he would give her a question, "Knowing that, I must ask -why-? To what end would you go to such efforts?" Asked with genuine curiosity, over any manner of accusation; he suspected her of nothing.

Lithirill nodded, crossing her arms and easing her weight onto one leg. "History was one among a few reasons I have debated asking. As for why, well. I feel there are certain wrongs afflicted to those I’ve come to care for, and it is within my power to unravel those wrongs.”

Arkt watched her carefully crafted mask slipping, the woman ever at odds with herself. He wondered if there would ever be a time where she did not engage in the practice, and simply felt at home in his company.

"As you did with Arantheal?"  he questioned, curious to see if he could keep her at that boundary.

Lithirill puzzled over the question for a moment, pondering if it was harmless comparison or an accusation. Foolish to think it the latter, knowing Arkt had no history of resisting her intent.

"...Yes. As I did -for- Narathzul." She corrected, offering a sideways nod and a shrug, "Know I don't need an answer -today-. I only wanted you to know that the idea lingered in mind long enough to...plan for.”

Ultimately, Arkt was touched. Shock still kept a whirlwind of emotions at bay at the mere hint of taking to the skies again, permitting the warmth of the smile behind his veil to only grow as he watched her. She was not having so easy a time, clearly having wrestled with herself on the matter for awhile.

"Is this what has kept you from your usual visits of late?" he wondered, gesturing with a hand in a motion pushing down from his midsection;  'Relax.' he said silently.

Her eyes followed his hand, flicking up to his face like the lash of a serpent's tongue before she took in a breath and let it out, chuckling to herself.  

"In part. Alongside the politicking and the visits somewhere warmer. Thoughts?"

He sighed through his nose as he partly answered with the considering tilt of his head and a prolonged shutting of his eyes, continuing to chew on the notion.

"Too many to rightly voice in a manner composed or remotely understandable. Would you mind returning to Castle Darlan for the moment? I'll have an answer for you come the evening."

"Of course.~"

The professional manner in which she pulled herself together and turned from him showed a wall climbing between them that he had no patience for, the old seraph chuckling when she moved to open the door.

"Lithirill."  

She twitched, shoulders bunching as her fingers fumbled at the doorknob, before she straightened again and smiled a familiar, shy curve over her shoulder. Her eyes lit up a touch when she saw he’d pulled down his veil.

"Yes?"  

"...Thank you."  he spoke, genuine appreciation clear in his expression.

A hint of color, and the wall scattered; his only goal in the moment. She departed with an amused, "See you soon.", quickly on her way.

                                                   ~~~ As promised, Arkt had arrived that evening, uncharacteristically anxious, but Lithirill could hardly blame him. She could not imagine the weight of what her offer truly meant to him.

In times long gone, the loss of his wings, however deeply traumatic, had served a purpose; symbols had power, as much in their creation as their destruction and his fall signaled the end of an era where the Lightborn could rule without fear of repercussion. Yet now that all his battles were over, and this new life lay before him...

It was not long before the old seraph was waxing poetic, teetering back and forth in his words, as was his way. He all but danced between every sentence- whilst Lithirill only offered more wine when his glass neared empty. She refused to rush him in coming to a decision, simply enjoying his company, equal parts devilishly curious and genuinely empathetic.

Such camaraderie came to it's end at the dawn of the following day, Arkt admitting in the quiet of the morning fog that he accepted her offer; even with her many warnings of risk and pain, he had seen firsthand what she was capable of; he knew he was in good hands, even if a fair few of her achievements were with his shadowed aid.

Two weeks had passed since he agreed to her offer, wasting no time in getting started. The first bout had been the hardest thus far- having not yet known just how -much- it took to render a seraph numb, and having the unfortunate task of plucking the feathers he still had. A meticulous, painful, unexpectedly bloody process...but it was safer to start with a clean slate than try to rebuild all that was under them when half the limb had been shorn down to bare bone.

Trippling the dosages from there made things much easier, at least for Arkt. His struggle was not with pain in the familiar sense now, it came instead from a nameless sensation;  the agonizingly slow return of what should never be, able to sense every -tiny- thread of what was lost reconnect. It was as torturous as it was euphoric, and it could only be overcome by sheer force of will.

Tonight would be no different. Lithirill had learned his tells after a few sessions. When in the throes of her spell work, she could spare little attention for observance, but awareness returned as she dialed back, murmuring gentle nothings mostly for her own comfort; though it signaled to Arkt he could stop taking such measured breaths.

The touch of the Sea crept away like the retreating tide, Arkt opening hazy eyes, idly stretching his fingers.  He knew well enough not to move until his companion told him to do so, watching her over his shoulder. There was a slight notion of fear that kept him from immediately looking upon his wings, naked and ghastly as they were. He only had eyes for Lithirill's face, noting the knitted brow and how she clicked her tongue when observing progress, pondering how to proceed.

"I'd hoped to have had bone completely covered by now..." she lamented, drawing again the magicked circles that held his wings in subtle regeneration between sessions, "I've underestimated how deeply the burns go. I should’ve-”

"You need not fret, Lithirill."  Arkt spoke up, a look of assurance crossing fair features, "This shall take as long as it will take, and you have plenty to grapple with without adding the unnecessary elements of haste and worry.~"

"...Perhaps. Still, I don't savor putting you through further pain I could have avoided." she spoke idly, glad he could not feel it as she undid the slings above, gently moving the humble beginnings to rest on cushions whilst she worked tension from developing musculature.

"We went into this knowing it would be difficult. We will endure." he replied, his tone as much an attempt to comfort as it was a statement of fact; she was far too deep in it now to safely -stop-.  "Which for you to manage, requires heady use of those flasks behind you, as I recall."

It was a gentle, but earnest jab to not neglect her own health whilst taking care of him. She might have been Tel'lmaltath, but healing at -this- level for such prolonged bouts tested the limits of even legendary resolves, and Arkt did not fancy the idea of a Shadow God turned Oorbaya.

Satisfied with her ministrations, she sighed and nodded, letting her hand trail down his back as she turned and gingerly stepped away to pluck a flask of Ambrosia from a stockpile. The edges of a smirk tugged at his lips as she made a show of drinking half the vial like it didn't taste awful, raising both brows at him in a silent 'satisfied?'.

"...-Thank- you." he muttered, humming a chuckle, "Do not lose sight of your own well being in concern for me. I must stress, we have nothing but time."

Lithirill tilted her head at him as her eyelids drooped, well accustomed now to the odd heated popping in her ears as the Ambrosia did its work, blanketing the red pressure in her head and quieting the skittering under her skin.

"-Now- whose fretting?" she teased, setting down the flask so she could help him to stand, not letting his wings droop as she supported them from the base, "I don't intend to go hurrying into the arms of the Blue Death, I promise. Come now.~"

Twas a short jaunt to the spare bedroom within her personal quarters, Arkt leading the way and Lithirill matching his steps. The seraph counted his blessings that his pride could not be so easily wounded as she settled his wings into yet another set of slings, these ones arranged to allow them to safely hang whilst he rested. He knew -she- worried about such mental troubles, but he was far too old and that much more taken by fascination in all she insisted upon doing for him to care for foolish things like shame.

"Tell me something, Lithirill." he said, eyes on her as she arranged the vials that would help him sleep, and come the morn, ease his pain,  "What do you suppose I'm meant to do in return for all of this?"  

The question was laced with an undertone of playfulness that reminded her of when the seraph had taken an almost catty tone in Arktwend, all but making -gossip- of the infatuation between those who'd brought Narathzul into the world. She could only raise a brow at him in plain curiosity, willfully stepping into whatever trap this might have been.

"That is hardly a matter to burden the likely recipient, don't you think?  Or am I -supposed- to be reading between some manner of line here?" The teasingly scrutinizing gaze she leveled upon him was nothing to the coy look he gave her beneath the messy strands of his hair, the two locked in a quiet contest before she relented; as she always did where he was concerned. "...ponder and plot all you like, my friend. But hold to that patience you've assured me with. I would say it is early yet to be planning anything more than recovery."  she offered.

Arkt sighed through his nose at that, uncapping the cork to her sleeping drought and drinking it down with a quick chaser of water. Her answer was as good as any. Ponder and plot indeed then.

"Fair enough. Rest well, when you find it."  he bid gently, offering only a smile. For a would be God according to most's definition, who had seen millennia pass and returned even from -death-, he seemed to be handling the life of a crippled patient quite well.

Lithirill could only take that profound patience and trust in her ability to heart; ensure no matter her doubts that she'd finish the job.

She returned the evening farewell and meandered to her own bed, falling upon it like a stone. All too swiftly would the sun rise, and the pair would be again until their great task of renewal was complete.   Lithirill could only hope she'd be done by Spring.

                                                   ~Fin~

[todays-fixation-is-spite]

I have been graced with Baldur’s Gate 3 and of course the first thing I had to try making was the disaster poly trio.

Narathzul -  Half-Elf Evocation Wizard   (tho Trickery Cleric was kinda tempting) Lithirill - High-Elf GOO Warlock  Arkt - High-Elf Eldritch Knight Fighter

I tried making Jespar too, but... the human face/hair options leave a good bit to be desired in the present state of the game.  xD 

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

Iiit’s more work in progress that’s taking too loooooong to finish. 

Context; Post Nehrim’s conclusion, during the handful of years between it and Enderal’s beginning, Lithirill and Arkt agree to the monumental task of restoring his wings.  An effort that takes months of time and a grueling amount of ambrosia work to achieve. 

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

                                     “Were you scared of her too?                           What truly shook you to your soul, I wonder…                                  That she loved you unconditionally?                              Or that she knew when to give up on you?” 

[Credits] Narathzul armor design by @jilljoycearts Pose reference (for free use) by Kate-Fox

Finishing something feels niiiiice.  This is one of the bigger angst moments in Lithirill’s journey through Nehrim, where an at first natural friendship rapidly withers as Narathzul shifts back into old habits- or perhaps simply reveals his “true self”. Yet Lithirill has caught glimpses of something else, those small moments spying the man taking hold of her olive branch and hanging on for dear life- and it is for that individual that she cuts deep into the crafted facade of armor, might, and “righteousness”.  She knows it’s a gamble and a dangerous one at that, but Lithirill is a healer at heart, and tends to fixate upon the sickest of patients.

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

@vyntober Day 1: A New Life

Scenes of my intro experiences and characters in Arktwend, Nehrim, and Enderal.  I couldn’t get Myar Aranath working in time for Vyntober, alas. 

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

For your shadowgod: Past 4, Present 2 and Future 1 :D

4: What was the most common argument between them and whoever raised them?   Generally small, petty arguments between a haughty child who read a lot of books (so obviously she knows things) and her clan members (who'd actually -experienced- them). Lithirill got a lot better about that after getting out of acadaemia and eating several slices of humble pie through a few painful experiences, one of them absolutely life changing. Perhaps the only -real- arguments she'd get into were with her grand-father, on account of learning he was a full-blooded seraph and knew a -lot- more about certain truths than he had ever deigned to share. She resented him for a time when his reasoning was "for her own safety", but once she'd dug deeper, she forgave him. Actually -meeting- walking history also helped put out any remnants of that fire.

2: What is their current occupation, if any, and how did they end up there? Do they enjoy it?   She is a Tel'lmaltath. How she got there is the entire plot of Nehrim. She has...mixed feelings about her current existence. One one hand, she got exactly what she wanted out of finding and joining the elusive Order of Mages- forgotten and forbidden knowledge that elevated her talents as a mage!  On another, she got dragged into a centuries old war and chose to reignite its near dead embers until it escalated beyond all realm of reason or understanding from a mortal perspective. She actively refuses to use the term "Shadow God" when referring to herself, preferring Tel'lmaltath (as if that possibly means anything different). Does she enjoy it?  Sort of. The power trip is great (but bad for her ego) and comes in handy when she needs to defend something, but it is a struggle not to buckle beneath the dawning realization of what she has become and what time/power may make of her. She relies deeply upon Arkt to ensure she does not become another Tyr, a burden he accepts readily.

1: Briefly describe their life in the future, regardless of how far into the future this is.   Lithirill occupies herself mostly by pushing the boundaries of magic, some of which are forced events shortly after Nehrim's conclusion. She returns Narathzul Arantheal to some form of "living" (though they are soulbound as a result), she reconstructs Arkt's wings in their entirety, restoring the ancient seraphim's power of flight, and she tries to reverse the magical contamination in the Southrealm- something she realizes quickly will take centuries worth of work, which as the events of Enderal get closer, become increasingly unachievable. The other main task she employs is ensuring Castle Darlan has what it needs to prosper, and welcoming displaced or otherwise needy Aeterna to live within her walls, using connections from Qyra to negotiate educational programs. She has a brief stint at court, pressured by King Taranor to take part in Nehrim's politics, before withdrawing once his rule became all about yet -more- war, using her clout as Tel'lmaltath to ensure none residing in her lands were forced to take part. This results in some -fleeing- to her lands to escape persecution, forcing her to figure out alternative lodgings while investigating the increasingly chaotic nature of the world more deeply.

~~~ Thank you for the Ask @jhara-ivez! 

from Past/Present/Future meme~

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

For Lithirill! #9 for each Past, Present and Future!

9: When they got hurt as a child, who did they go to? How did they react? Lithirill had the privilege of having the care of her entire clan, which, while small was very tight knit. While she was hardly spoiled, if ever she was truly in distress or hurt beyond the bredth of her own ability to fix, they were happy to help her. The only one to be less open than the rest was the clan's leader and her grand-father, Ishtariot. He was still fond of his grand-daughter however, he was simply content to let her learn the hard way when she got into a rut.

9: What kind of place do they live in?  Already Answered   =D

9: How do they feel about getting older and eventually dying? During a time when she was still mortal, she didn't find the idea particularly enticing. Even as an Aeterna, she knew well enough she would not live forever, and she suspected Fate would have the ill humor to quicken the weakness of age -right- as she got close to her goals as a mage. This said, she is uncertain now as to whether or not she -will- die, at least of natural causes. A Tel'lmaltath is immortal, from what little she and her fellow Shadow God understand, not that it’s much trouble for Arkt considering what he is. Other hands had helped to ensure Fate did not bring its predestined plans for her to fruition- and so, she is bereft of an end at the hands of time. How she will cope with that remains to be seen, but she is in good company.

~~~ Thank you for the Ask @essythewolf!

from Past/Present/Future meme~

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

[Vyntober- Day 2]  The Dreams

@vyntober​ ~ Began again the Dreams, those which proceeded their survival; their seeming victory.  This series; it was a repetitive thing, that each time, the Dreamer could feel herself grow more and more lucid within, yet prove just as powerless as the first time to achieve anything that may alter the conclusion. 

It started from the Sea, and from those waters rose creatures. These creatures strove to fly without wings, and no matter how hard they tried, no matter how many of their own they had to claw through and climb over, never would the sky welcome them… Not until their brazen need rent the sky in twain, and those of the Sea reached down in all their glorious light to reclaim their game pieces-  to reset the board, to begin again.

The Cycle.~

Again those words sounded through her mind as she felt her body begin to burn, the dry, wheezing screams of millions raising into a deafening chorus as, without words or cause, she felt blame for their agony; this chaos, this destruction, this feast- it was -her- doing.  

Rationality knew no home in this nightmare as heat and sound grew to an unbearable tenor, her eyes afire as all that she was and would ever be was consumed, the skies above a jarring, violent blood red that twitched and writhed with an inane life all its own. 

A maw opened, a rippling void- it was hunger insatiable… and yet, as it closed around her, still she screamed louder than it did, till her lungs gave out and with them, all became colder than ice. She was gone…  All of them were gone…To the Sea that would again birth them, as it ever had, as it always would, to repeat this awful process.

“Lithirill...”  

A voice.  Familiar.  Out of the void and always when she needed him most. She strove to focus through the dark, reaching with fingers she no longer had. Every time this conclusion came, it felt like it pressed harder, holding her here longer- as if perhaps the intent was to wait here forever. Her part played… Sleep… Until again you dance on our strings…~

Without eyes, she could swear she saw someone… Some-thing- move, darker still than the void around her, disturbing the growing peace. She thought to chase it- 

“-Lithirill-!” 

The name, and the voice that barked it, pulled her from the abyss with all the effect of the drowning coming up for air.  She barely registered his grip around her arms, unable to know that he hadn’t been pulling her up, but holding her down, the covers of her bed bundled at her feet and some items from her nightstand now scattered about the floor a show of how she’d thrashed.

Hues of peridot snapped open as she took in gulps of air, her head dizzied and her chest pounding with a burning ache like she’d been holding her breath all too long.  

She heard a quiet sigh of relief through teeth as the grip around her arms loosened, the figure lowering to his knees in the dark.  The only part of him that was clearly discernible in the dim moonlight filtering through the windows was his eyes; luminous golden orbs whose own light only highlighted the barest hints of his cheekbones and nose, errant black strands dangling free to occasionally break up the image.  

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  he murmured, his tone and cadence gentle, but betraying his usual stoic coyness; he sounded worried.  Did he know of what she was seeing then?  

Sitting up properly, arms still warmed by his touch reached out to claim her sheets and drag them up around her bare chest as she settled her breathing. Slender fingers raised to rub at her eyes, a displeased short groan escaping as she felt them slip on what had most certainly been tears. How embarrassing. 

“Arkt...Good morning…” Lithirill managed, her wrist flicking in a half-wave as her free hand flopped down over her covered, crossed legs. “However did you get inside at this hour?”  

Not that she could actually tell what time it was, but judging by the dimness of the light outside, it certainly wasn’t day. It was a subconscious comfort then, that she hadn’t woken to this oppressive dark by her lonesome.  

‘If I would’ve woken at all…’  the thought snaked into her mind unbidden and she flinched at the irrationality of it.  

Arkt watched every movement, able to see far better than she could as his clothing rustled with his movement to stand. Saying nothing, he would stride to a shelf and pass his palm over a crystalline shape, the spark of energy leaping as expected into the crystal and producing a bright enough glow to see clearly by.  

As the room filled with blue-white light, Lithirill felt her heart lurch, reminded all too much of the color her skin had become as it burned in the dream, hearing a thrumming noise inside her ears; slow and droning and constant. 

A sharp snap yanked her back to reality, her wandering eyes looking again to Arkt, who loomed over her from her bedside, his fingers hovering in the air as they briefly curled into a loose fist, before the arm relaxed to his side. 

His eyes were intense now, boring right through her attempt to shimmy away from his initial question, trapping her in a gaze that had ever tightened her throat in what few times she’d seen it. 

“You are obviously unwell. You -know- where I reside, I could have helped.”  

Was that a tremble in his voice? Was he actually angry at her? 

There was so much she couldn’t tell behind that bloody mask of his, and the nuances of emotion in a universally calm voice were ever so difficult to pick up, even when she wasn’t sleep deprived by newly chronic nightmares. 

Mustering a half-hearted look of indignation in hopes it would give her the strength to explain herself, she cradled her chin in her free hand as she glanced up at him with apologetic eyes. 

“-You- told me that you would need time, Arkt. To adjust to peace? To come to terms with…-Everything-?” she mused, trying to resist the need to clear the cobwebs from her throat, unsuccessfully as she coughed sharply and heaved a sigh, “It’s barely been a fortnight, I hardly felt myself welcome as of yet to intrude on your new life. Whatever happened to sending me an invitation?”  

The ancient seraph was not having it. He didn’t doubt for a moment that her concerns were genuine, but his very presence was proof enough she might’ve considered reaching out to him regardless-  whatever she had been seeing in her dreams was loud enough about it to be sensed, with strength enough to call him here on pure instinct. 

He had felt some notion of foreboding for a few days concurrently, but when he was hearing her screams in his own rest, as if something meant to weaponize it against him, it was beyond time to check in. It was all as new to him as it was to her, considering certain details of his past he hadn’t volunteered- but he still strove for the composure she was accustomed to as he responded.

Once again ignoring the dismissive tone in her last words, he simply rested back on his heels. 

“A statement I would’ve made differently had I known you would avoid seeking aid when you needed it, Lithirill. These are not any ordinary nightmares you’re having if I could feel them too… and something tells me from the sleeplessness of your posted guards and the amount of lights still on in the dark of the eve that you are not the only one suffering them...in some fashion or another.” 

She took what pleasantries she could from his words, the simple sound of his voice most of all, shutting her eyes as he spoke. When he had finished talking, she shifted in her bed, tilting her head at him, sending raven half-curls tumbling over her shoulder as she squinted at him. 

“So much known about my new castle and its denizens…and -feeling- my -dreams-?” she mused, eyeing him up and down,  “Are you spying on me, Arkt? How very risque.” 

A brief furrow and raise of his brow suggested she not make this a laughing matter, choosing next to look anywhere but the coiled, nude minx in her bed eyeing him most lasciviously. The lengths this woman went for avoidance’s sake… He suspected she’d try even his nerves eventually. Observing the room, she boasted a rather spacious castle floor entirely to herself, yet she’d not furnished her bedroom with any manner of chair. Unsurprising…  What he knew of her, she probably felt the bed was where to put guests. His eye twitched at the wandering of his mind at that notion as he shook his head like some great annoyed beast, earning a chuckle from his undressed company. 

“Look, you’re here now. I’m not going to rebuke you, and your concern is incredibly touching. If you don’t mind, you can wander out into the hall there and find a seat. I’ll dress myself properly, prepare some tea, and we can talk. Alright?”  Lithirill had leaned back, pulling her sheets completely around her shoulders as to not continue making a lure of herself to a man who was -not- going to respond. The only hint of her sly jabs to remain was in her thin, raised brow. 

Shifting his posture, she could see the lower edges of his mask sway as he exhaled a hard sigh through his nose and nodded. 

“As you wish.”  he answered, turning from her bedside and making his exit. 

Lithirill felt no shame in leaning well to her left as she watched the long-of-limb seraph stride away, a secretive half-grin on her face as she bit the inside of her cheek, eyes fluttering to her ceiling before clicking her tongue and shaking her head. A moment of indulgence taken, now to more important matters. 

Dreams with the power to summon a concerned shadow…The beginning of a new story, she suspected, and all too early considering the rest she felt she had earned…but such was “Godhood”, she supposed.~

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

Prompt for Shadowgod: 6 for Present

What is their current relationship with their family? 

Lithirill’s current relationship with her family is rather distant.  Not in the sense that there’s any bad blood, she simply set out on a path several years prior to Nehrim’s events and that path has not lead her back to Qyra-  certainly didn’t give her any chances once the events of Nehrim’s story kicked off.

As of Nehrim’s conclusion, she has bridged the gap out of necessity, being that she needed to shelter certain personages of ill repute. While it was certainly a rude surprise, they were understanding.  What was more was finding out not long after that not just Saldrin had been murdered, but so too had all of the remaining Lightborn. Not all of Lithirill’s family knows the truth, but she was forced to come clean to her grand-father Ishtariot, who promised to keep her secret for so long as was possible, given the circumstances. She also facilitated bridging contact between him and Arkt, for in times long past, Ishtariot had served faithfully as a trusted confidant. An exchange that was civil, but difficult.

All in all, passable to positive relations.

~~~~ Thank you for the Ask  Anon! From  Past, Present, Future ask meme.~

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

[Vyntober Day 4 - Traces of the Past]

@vyntober​

It wasn't a hard task at all to find his quarry.

Narathzul prided himself on the fact that despite growing up in an environment where those of his kind were spurned and distrusted, he hadn't let such virile hatred keep him from honing his natural advantages.  Keeping his steps light, his ears guided him toward the basements reserved for fresh initiates to train. He knew there was only one from the sound of a dummy being struck- rather brutally if he was any judge; his quarry wasn't sparing effort for keeping to restrained forms.

'Like she's trying to draw attention to herself. She'll hardly improve her chances here that way...'  he thought to himself, moving with curious earnestness. As he continued the descent, he would ponder to himself,  ' Am I obligated to stand by her just for being aeterna? Any other that had done what she had and I’d not even think about aiding-...' -- 'No other -would- have gotten away with what she did, -because- she was aeterna.'  his eye twinged at the immediate counter thought, as his fingers brushed the dusty stone archway that lead into the training hall.

Plain to see and all alone, the new initiate was -indeed- brutalizing a training dummy with a dulled sword, puffing and yelling along the way. It was needlessly sloppy work given what Narathzul has seen of this Zelara already.  Despite the fact that she had been placed up against a fully fledged Paladin- an above average example of one at that, she held her own well enough, and when she could see defeat was in sight, she resorted to cheating to win.  A fact Narathzul didn't actually fault her too much for, considering the odds. Their mutual superior had been quite purposeful in setting his new aeterna initiate against an impossible foe and would have penalized her for losing; meanwhile she'd -still- been reprimanded harshly for her victory, predominantly for using methods not "in the sword drills".  

'I'm sure he got a kick out of making -me- of all people fight the only other aeterna in our ranks too... pathetic son of a wh-'  Narathzul's less than polite thought was interrupted as he realized Zelara had caught notice of him, the young woman having turned round, long walnut colored strands disheveled as verdant hues glared at him from underneath. She was leaning from the effort she'd expended, one palm curved over the pommel of her training blade, which currently served mostly as a support. "What? Here to even the score?"  she challenged, raising both brows as she steadied her breathing. Oh, so that's how it was going to be, was it?  Charming. Narathzul surprised himself with how the barb mostly rolled off of him, acting on a well of patience he generally didn't grace others with outside of the superiors he -had- to obey. "I came to apologize, actually."  he answered honestly, idly keeping an ear out for any others that might happen upon them.  His words blatantly shocked the woman, an unfitting, musical chortle escaping her lips before she turned to set her blade back upon its rack, sending a long ponytail wagging as she shook her head. "You're not the person who owes me one..." she scoffed, turning her back to a wall and crossing her arms.  She didn't look the part at all of Paladin initiate, and it sent Narathzul's mind awhirl at pondering just -who- she was. She certainly didn't fight like she needed formal training. Was it for the status then? How had she even been accepted? Clearing his throat softly and regarding her aloof haughtiness with a dismissive nod of his brows, he rested a hand on his hip, leaning his weight to one side as he clicked his tongue. "-Well-.  Mine is the only one you're going to -get-.  Take it for what it is."  Narathzul chastised, striving to keep the sneer from his voice, to middling success, "We both know our superior today manufactured that event for some pure, sick amusement. If you couldn't tell, he's not a man particularly proud to see an aeterna in his ranks, much less two."  "-Half- Aeterna."  she replied in an obstinate tone, intentionally ignoring the majority of his words as her eyes narrowed further. Everything about her posture screamed -get out-, but Narathzul had never been one to pay service to such bluster- he could do it too, he just didn't -need- to prove anything. "Same difference." he replied calmly with a half shrug, "Some of us live behind stone walls, under laws not of our own writing, but we become the same long eared, magic-tainted menace the moment we show signs of slipping our leashes." The young man's blatant, level tone in regard to sensitive political issues was a touch jarring to the woman as she let up in the aggressive behavior just long enough to look confused- definitely taking his measure through a new filter. "... you talk like a rebel. Yet you're happy to exist under their confines." she accused, at least maintaining her standoffish tone of voice, but her eyes betrayed a perplexed curiosity. Narathzul was starting to feel the oddest sense of entertainment as a result, though he surmised it wouldn’t last; it never did. She undoubtedly wanted the opposite, but her present company was rooted to his spot- at least for now. "Quite presumptuous of you." he chided, leaning back on his heels as he cocked his head at her, "Happy is a misjudgement... However, I'd challenge you to act differently. You wear the same insignia I do; seem desirous of it even. Yet I don't see you in any greater hurry than I to leap onto a pyre for our ability to recognize that -this- is all wrong." By "this", he of course meant the over-arching greater problem of aeterna being consistently treated as second class citizens, as well as the fresh troubles of the day itself. Zelara would take some time to digest his words, idly tapping the toe of her plated boot on the stone. Fired up as she was, Narathzul could read her as wanting to keep fighting over suffering the indignation of coming down off the rafters.  He couldn't exactly blame her, he'd -been- her enough times, and the -one- time he lost control- whilst fearing for his life no less, he lost the dearest person he knew.  'Ah. -That's- why you're helping her...'  he pondered to himself, feeling the pang of grief from the still yet to heal wound of losing Miriam the way he did. What a monstrous world they all lived in... Squirming away from his guilty sorrows, he drew in a sharp breath through his teeth as he clasped his hands behind his back and stood up straight; a pose he'd often watched his father take when addressing those beneath him on important matters. "-Look-, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but you and I are the only ones of our kind in Erothin's ranks, from the city guard to the Order of Paladins stationed here. An entire capital's military, and it's just us. Take that into account while you keep your chest puffed out at me like that. I'd like us to be on good terms."  he stressed, stoicism coming naturally to his voice that he strove to tone down in hopes of coming off more genuinely, "If we make amends, he loses. Just to point that out. And, if I advocate for you, there's a chance you get to stay."   That gave her a bit of information that wasn't Narathzul's to share, the young woman's brows creasing as she nodded to herself. "So they are expelling me then...and over something so small." she sighed, reorienting her glare in a way that made the young Paladin tense and almost want to reach for his sword, "And you sound like an opportunist. All I see is a man who wants to take advantage of my position-  to keep me under his thumb. We may share blood, but you think like they do." 'If only she could swing a sword like she wielded half-cocked accusations, she might've beaten me fairly...'  he mused inwardly, some of the venom reflecting on his face. "Take my offer however you like." Narathzul's response was measured, refusing to rise to the comparison of his genuine want to help her being anything close to what most human men would want of her,  "I can prove nothing to you until you allow me, and I won't act if you're not interested in a hand up. It's not like me, I confess, but I try to help fellow aeterna where I can, which thanks to them is a rare chance." Gods, was he making headway finally?  He saw her expression shift in the torchlight as she chewed on all he'd brought forward, before she decided to maintain her consistent abrasiveness, her lips twitching into an awkward half grin. She would cock her head along with it, having made a decision he hadn’t been able to read as she spoke quietly. "...  Most would call that generosity a flaw. Maybe a fatal one.~”   Was it a final challenge?  Why was she -smiling- like that?  First poor attitude and now she was playing games with him. He was beginning to think he didn’t have the patience for this after all.  "Then I'm flawed! Shall I point out some of your's to put us on -some- notion of even footing? Or would you rather I help you to a running start instead, seeing as you're not long for our ranks and have no mind to change that?!"  Narathzul hissed it with a spark of fiery frustration, inwardly kicking himself that he'd even bothered trying with this one; he'd never been one with a good eye for allies. Then came the most audacious thing she'd done yet.  She -laughed- in his face, hard enough she damn near doubled over...

                                                    ~~~

"-Laughed-?  My my, the brazen thing...~"  a voice like velvet purred into his ear, chuckling along with his tale. "I can see how she caught you so fast. I daresay there wasn’t ever a moment she wasn’t running circles around you after such an introduction~."    He kept his eyes shut gently, breathing in the mix of chilly desert air and the smoke of a fragrant incense his company had lit. He found some notion of delight in how she ran her fingers along his form, especially his scars; those traces of his past. Narathzul still boggled at the truth of where and how he was. The very scene he rested comfortably in was alike to a dream; surrounded on all sides by the desert that was once Saldrin's domain, lounging upon feather pillows and silken sheets, in the loose embrace of a lover he most certainly did not feel he deserved after all he'd put her through and been through himself.  He cracked a silvery eye open as he felt her palm spread over the scar where Arkt's blade had pierced clean through, drawing in a quiet hiss through his teeth. She would apologize with a kiss to his hair, settling her cheek against pillowsoft golden strands whilst electing to entangle her wandering hands in his own to keep herself still and to comfort him.  "Thank you for telling me about her. I know it must be painful."  she murmured, her voice reflecting a genuine concern. Yet another thing about her that had been hard to believe about Lithirill Andethil. The true and real giving a damn; accepting him for all that he was. It had been so very long since Narathzul had known the feeling that it might as well have been new.  While it had indeed hurt to speak of Zelara at length, he appreciated the opportunity Lithirill granted him to do so. She often enough wanted to know about the better times with her, their companionship, their fierce idealism and hope that kept them going through trial after trial...  only for him to ruin-  Lithirill could feel where his mind was going in the way he tensed, and she preemptively squeezed his fingers, gently tapping a thumb along his ribs.  A simple reminder to keep from spiraling... or to go ahead, if he needed to- she would be there either way. Swallowing, Narathzul would master that well of emotion for the moment, snaking his arms away from her as he sat up, peering upwards at the moon for several seconds before wiping at his eyes and clearing his throat, turning over rather suddenly. He would take in the beauty before him, her pale form lit in the warm tones of wall sconces, before dragging himself over her, her hues of peridot following him for every little motion as she tried to figure what he was doing next.  He would let her mind race for a handful of seconds, looking every bit the great cat she oft described him as, before he elected to settle against her, chest to chest, finding a comfortable spot in trapping her form in his arms and welcoming the comfort that come from feeling her hand slip under his hair and caress the back of his neck. He didn't say any sort of 'You're welcome' or ‘No, thank -you-.’ to her statement. He didn't need to, it was written all over his face and his desire to be as close to her as possible.  A question did pull at him however, taking some time to brave its way out as he listened to her heartbeat. "Why do you wish to know of Zelara anyway? You mean to grant me the gift of closure, this I know, but there must be more to it than that."  he murmured quietly, tilting his head into her hand as he watched her closely. Lithirill thought about it, adopting an expression that took Narathzul back centuries in its similarities to the woman he'd lost, and...in a way, found again. She savored that sad look of wonder as her fingers curled in his hair. "I suppose...I want to know as much as I can of the woman I was...or at least, to understand -that- part of myself.  We'll likely never settle the exacts of that matter, but to know her helps me to piece together my part in all of this...and ponder at Fate's peculiar sense of humor."  she would answer, her fingers escaping their self-made confines as she drew a gentle fingernail along his cheek, "We are, all of us, traces of the past now...With their aid, we ought to paint something new, mm? Perhaps not the future you had planned of course, but something...” Narathzul would've laughed at the poetics were this another time and place, but in the moment, he could only smile. He'd never know what he did to have earned it, but neither did he surmise he'd find an end to his gratitude.  In a long, strange, convoluted way, it was as he'd wanted it, and there would never be enough words to do the feeling justice of finally finding it.