#segira writing

[goddesstrolls]

Segira slipped through the trees, his form backlit by the moonlight filtering through the canopy.

He took in his surroundings, senses extended by the darkness around him; The passing of a few deer, the creeping of some odd arcane creature in the deep shadows, a denizen of the pockets of strangeness of the Wisp’s Hollow forest.

In such a place inundated with magic, and being a mage himself, Segira was no stranger to the unusual and otherworldly.

With nothing out of the ordinary, Segira moved to kneel by a pool fed by a tributary on its way to the river. The water was clean and ice-cold from distant snowmelt, and Segira sank his hand in the water to bring it to his lips and drink.

The pool was shallow, but its depths were cast in shadow. A passing curiosity, or perhaps something more, led Segira to lean and peer into the pool’s center.

He found himself suddenly entranced, unaware even of his inability to pull away if he wanted to. Even with an iron will, the call of darkness was stronger still.

He sank closer to the water’s surface and an elongated pair of black limbs reached out to meet him, long fingers ghosting the sides of his face as though longing to cradle him.

Segira slipped into the shadows, disappearing through the pool as though sinking into deep water. Those black limbs enveloped him, drawing him into the shadowy mass of its body.

It gorged itself on his energy like a leech, draining his strength and soul with eager gluttony. The trance broke, but the creature continued to feed, and Segira came back to his senses.

With a furious cry he drew his sword and slashed into the darkness, realizing it to be both tangible and incorporeal. His blade severed the darkness and sent the being scuttling back.

Apparently satisfied, the spirit slunk away, leaving Segira to take in his new surroundings. Stretching around him was an endless expanse of decaying, dismal landscape, grassless plains of gray earth dotted with dead black trees. A stormy sky shifted overhead, tendrils of fog wafting down as they were carried by the cruel, damp breeze.

Segira knew this place, having seen it in dreams and in passing- The elemental plane of shadow. 

Not being well-versed in the art of traversing planes, the only thing he could think of to do would be to find somewhere the veil was thinnest, or find something that would be willing to carry him back to the material plane.

He began to walk, dragging noncompliant limbs. He felt exhausted, his own magical energy feeling like a distant memory instead of a wellspring in his chest. He likely couldn’t cast even if he could think of anything. Even his despair and grief at this twist of fate felt hollow and faded.

Beings of the shadow plane watched him pass out of the corners of his vision, vanishing when he turned his attention to them. In desperation he called out to some, but nothing responded to his pleas.

His surroundings never seemed to change. There was no end to this vast landscape, no shift in the weather beside a passing patch of fog. If time passed, Segira could not tell how much, whether it were hours or perigees. His energy waned further as he walked, the mere act of existence in this plane requiring it.

Segira finally found some being which did not flee from him. The great horned, snake-like creature rose out of the earth before him in a graceful arc back towards the ground. It gave a long, groaning cry like whalesong, ribbons of darkness flowing from its jagged maw.

It wove in and out of the ground surrounding Segira, black-eyed gaze fixed on him. He sank slowly to his knees.

“Please,” He whispered. “Take what you want from me. Just bring me back.”

The dark snake arced over him and disappeared into the ground with another low cry. Its entire body disappeared beneath the earth, and for a moment Segira thought it had declined its plea.

Then open jaws phased through the ground surrounding him and the snake caught him in its teeth. He winced as those black fangs sunk into his gut, and he braced for death.

The snake dove for the earth again, and Segira knew no more.

--

Segira woke with a start, lying in a pool of ice-cold water. He sat up and put his hands down to brace himself, only to collapse to one side.

The wood of his arm had buckled and splintered under his weight, shattering into rotten pieces. He stared at the remains of his limb, though his shock and dismay felt like it were trying to reach him through a thick sheet of glass.

His gut ached with the sting of a deep wound, and he put his remaining hand there to see it come away with some black fluid. It took a few more moments for him to register that it was his own blood. It seeped into the water, swirling like ink before being carried away by the stream.

Groaning in pain, Segira crawled out of the pool and tentatively put weight on his legs. Like his arm, the wood of his legs splintered and shattered.

Grief and pain weighed on him, distant and hollow as it was. Those limbs had been the last living remnants of the great tree he had grown up with, that had been burned in the fire that cost him his arm, legs, and eye. 

And now they were rotten splinters of decayed wood floating on the water’s surface, slowly being ferried away. 

Segira pushed down the regret at foolishly offering anything he had to give. Weakened as he had been, those limbs were likely all he had that were worth taking, and the spirit had generously returned him to the Wisp’s Hollow forest.

He whistled, calling his deer mount so he could get somewhere safer, and tend to his injuries.

[eddardstark]

i was gonna go fix my sideblog and maybe like, idk, finish a gifset, but i spent my entire evening working on a 128x128 pixel canvas and stressing about a new episode of tv tomorrow.