#oasis's lucids chatter

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

ayo lucids fandom. I hear you have a discord 👀

*sliding 6 dollars across the bar top* room for one more?

[oil-and-firebrand]

The Clock Is Broken, But Regret Doesn’t Know

Inspirational music here. Gif credit here and here.

“Are you here to hurt her too?”

“In my book, your character will be civilized and kind… and don’t you dare to disagree.”

This, this was exactly what she wanted. Her time in Stormwind was a magical whirlwind of life and cozy corners packed with chatter, bright lamps lighting every street, the scent of different breath and hearts beating faster than they ever did in Silvermoon…

But Stormwind was only a distraction. An escape, a vacation taken in the eye of the storm while she could still bear the rending gale of powers well beyond her understanding. The time for relaxing was gone, and in its place sat an unusual slice of paradise. In Silvermoon of all places, she was wanted.

Their names, their faces, their history hardly mattered in this moment. Warm bodies against her own were as special treat among treats. An ecstasy known only in the middle of a whirlpool of guilt and anguish, to be desired was truly a unique drug- one she hadn’t experienced in far too long. Did the vultures swoop in at the scent of her blood, or was she the siren to their windless sails?

Far be it from her to complain either way. Any moment of pleasure for mere seconds was another oasis, it hardly mattered where it came from anymore. So long as they never spoke to Killian or the rest of her contacts, she could indulge in this dessert any time she wished. Through the sunbeams to the moonlight, the woman could be treasure that others cherished and feed off them. She could string them along as much as she liked, who was there to stop her?

A very aware cut of her mind dared the woman to settle down, to reign in her instincts and focus at the problem in her hands. She hardly needed booze to weaken her inhibitions, though that didn’t mean she didn’t drink. After all, it made everything easier to deal with after dark.

Darkness was the worst of it. A darkness with nobody around, no breath to hear, no pulse to grasp, absolute solitude was the arm that bore the greatest weight. The little bits were fine, the odd shadow or the very rarely indulged blink of the eyes were startling, but not unbearable. No, when she couldn’t drown her sockets in light brighter than the sun, everything set in again.

The screaming. Light, the screaming. It wasn’t even Rizzy anymore, after three nights it was just noise. Dreadful noise paired with a thousand years’ worth of guilt tying a sailor’s treasure of knots in her guts. Every howl of illusory pain digs into her brain, tiny drills boring into the backs of her eyes and tearing away the gooey flesh. The sharp pain shocks her eyes open whenever they may close for just the briefest moment, and the days of constant screaming deep within her skull grasps her brain tighter than a carpenter’s vise. The only question resting higher on the ladder than ‘why won’t it stop’ is a slothful whine of ‘why haven’t my brains melted yet’. Neither question would be answered.

At the expense of her eyes hollowing out from the inside and her brain under the grasp of Rizzy’s incessant howling, she remained awake. She had to. Everything she could do to remain awake was a necessity to keep from going absolutely mad. Light be damned, she could only do so much. Food escaped her stomach within moments of eating, water tolerated only in the slightest occasional sips. The pounding in her head from her own racing heartbeat held more in common with a blacksmith’s hammer dashing her to bits.

It would almost be preferable…

No. This was nothing to give up over.

It was her fault this fell into her lap, and it will be her fault when the beast goes after her friends…

Her friend.

The other deserved warning, but that bridge may have already been burned.

Such a dreadful habit she had.

She had to figure out what she was doing before she wasted away entirely. From the looks of it, she doesn’t have too much time left to make a decision.

Could she sell out a dear friend and betray the magistry for her own relief?

Could she bear with it as a final insult to the horrid creature that placed this curse?

What would happen to the ones who already met the beast?

Was there anyone she could ask for help?

The answer to the last question was a resounding ‘no’ in her mind. To cause others more trouble was to shoot them in the foot. To bring up this matter is to paint a target on them- and there can be no others suffering in her way. Being the cause was only narrowly behind being the hand that places the curse in the first place. There were too many she couldn’t bear to trouble.

For now, all she could do was wait. To think through the fog of a former friend’s squeals, to stave off the wasting, to solve the problem without selling anyone out.

She wasn’t doing it again.

Until then, the body of Leshii Ashenbraid was little more than a husk for a mind that raced to find escape. A body of broken bottles, dented walls, bloodied fingernails, and seared drapes between the brief moments of exhausted lucidity. Even as she sat nose-deep in the oil of her lamp and drank deep from the blaze that flickered in and over the surface of her eyes, she had to wait. Somewhere there was a light bright enough to crack the curse, or she’d become little more than a shadow.

( Mentions: @zaderick @rizzythemonk )

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

happy two year anniversary Lucids!!! 🥳🥳🥳🎉🎉🎊🎊🎂🎂❤️❤️🥰🥰🎊🎉🎉❤️🥳🎂🎂🎂🥰

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

that feeling you get when you're thinking about blorbos so hard you can't breath 😌😌 >>>>