#thq troupe 1

[theportaraceli]

who? @incubusnero where? Knight's Nectar when? during the queen mother king timeline

"Nero, dearest," Araceli croons as she enters the shop, a hand raised to rest to her breast as she sighs in mock delight. Narrowed eyes flicker through the room, sharp gaze taken the bottles lines up and, as always, pretending to find the wares wanting. All in all, Knight's Nectar's selection is fairly pleasing, but she has long found her signature scent, as required of her status, so she has the freedom to pester the annoying casanova that had gotten in her way without worrying she will not be able to get one of his scents.

"It's been far too long, hasn't it? And you haven't aged a day," she comments cheerfully as she wades through the shop, until she reaches the counter and slams her hands on it, leaning closer to the owner and giving him a smile that is all teeth. "Still coveting what belongs to others, dearest?"

[blightedmikhael]

who? @vuldak-juneau where? just outside the nornwatch tower when? post troupe 1: the last night

The bodies need to be piled up, not a single one forgotten, and the least Mikhael can do after failing so many is dedicate himself to the grim cause. The battle is long over, but the tension still weighs upon them, the feeling of loss keen for all that had lost people to sickness or the darkspawn. It’s been a tough week for all, but they had no time for grief or daddling around, not when there is work to do, not when they still are not out of the woods. 

He is returning to the tower from setting yet another corpse in the growing when he sees a thin slip of a woman slipping around in an increasingly suspicious manner. Being a vuldak does not help her in this manner, either. Carefully, he steps closer and places a hand on her shoulder.

“It would be best of you to remain inside,” he tells her quietly, eyes flickering around as he looks for witchers. “If you haven’t caused trouble yet, it’s best to remain out of the witcher’s sight.”

[hiddenvaldis]

who? open to non troupe where? mercury's bazaar when? during the troupe 1 plot drop

The thing about rumors is that despite every attempt to stop them, they will only grow and grow and grow. In time, they will change and twist and bend, but the kernel of truth will always remain. Anyone keen enough can dig past the shell to find the pearl within, and Valdís delights of working out the precision necessary to do it. It's a test for a skill she rarely gets to use on the Sea's Peril and one she does not want to lose. Her occasional trips to hostile shores is more than enough to keep her sharp, and as good excuse as any to supervise the crew manning the merchant ship to ensure there isn't any funny business going on.

Mercury's Bazaar is an excellent place to start on her meandering journey through the streets of Eterna — a pulse point of commerce, all merchants flock to it's streets and in between the banter and barter the truth slips from careless lips. Not quite as careless as those found in the bars, but in plan daylight the clientele will probably be worthless to her.

Stopping before a booth full of books, she allows her eyes to move languidly across the covers. She is trying to figure out if there is any worthy addition to her personal library when she feels someone loom over her shoulder, blocking the light.

"You mind?" She snipes, glancing back to send the interloper an accusing look. "You are hogging the light. Move."

[engineerzuleima]

who? open where? haven's wall when? the road so far plot drop

Haven’s Wall stands tall at the strigoi’s back as she eyes the distant shimmering dome with narrowed eyes. Anyone passing by will have noticed the thin layer of snow sitting at her shoulders, demonstrating that she has been standing in the same spot for hours at a time without moving and they would wonder why. The truth is simple: she had sent some of her conjurations to trail the borders of the magic dome to try and understand its circumference. Word had already spread about how the magic covered the entirety of Iskaldrik, and the more word spread, the more curious she became. Iskaldrik is in no way round, and yet the dome always seemed to be just that: a dome. The curiosity needed to be satisfied, and if she finds anything of help, the better. 

And so, she waits for the shadowy grims to return from their scouting, considering the magic before her thoughtfully. Zuleima has never come across anything like it on her long life, and part of her wants to know the mechanics and whether it can be replicated to protect Lysara. A bigger part of her, though, worries about the implications of unknown magic in the hands of the Aethereon empire. 

“You know I can hear you when you move, right?” She asks the watcher. “Don’t you have better things to do than to creep on a random strigoi?”

[temperednuvi]

who? @freydis-freydat where? in the wastelandddd, babyyy when? on their journey to the king

"Do you have a minute?" She finds herself at Freydis' side at some point in their journey, and her words as they left the cave keep repeating over and over in her head. Nuvi does not want to think the worst out of them, but she is far too oversensitive not to worry. Too much of her fate remains uncertain, in a way that is weightier than the uncertainty the humans feel. By virtue of being herself, she remains in danger amidst Iskaldrik nobility, and she needs to know if the Jarl's previous offer of friendship was true or if it had been born from a moment of desperation and despair.

[blightedmikhael]

who? @heroic-ignus where? the nornwatch tower when? post troupe 1: the last night

Mikhael had meant to check earlier, but he had ended up getting distracted with a thousand and one different self-assigned responsibilities. Or so he keeps telling himself, despite the grim reality of the truth that he keeps to himself. Deep inside, he is still the same wide-eyed child looking towards Maferath's branch of the Warrior Guild and dreaming of becoming a blademaster. It’s all he wanted then, and one of the goals he hopes to accomplish now. The respect he feels for the Blademasters is overwhelming and all-encompassing, and to know one of them is a Vuldak? 

It’s a startling realization.

Initially, Alder’s demeanor had almost convinced him not to worry, but the more time passed, the odder his behavior became, and— He is worried that staying in his hand and not revealing the former werewolf’s true nature will come back to bite him in the ass later, he truly is. But it is too late to say anything without revealing himself as well, so all he can do is watch him carefully and hope for the best, while preparing for the worst. 

“Quite a night,” he muses as he comes to stand next to the Blademaster, eyes falling on the Vuldak and taking a moment to examine him. “Were you wounded? I might not be a healer, but I know the basics so I might be of help if you were.”

[blightedmikhael]

who? @ormir where? Haven when? During the weeks that the refugees were being monitored

It had only taken him a few days in Lysara for Mikhael to have the bright and startling realization that he had fucked up by getting to know the old man at the bonfire and after. The conversation had been a respite during the arduous journey, and he had enjoyed it enough to seek him out through the journey, but nothing had grown beyond a few amicable conversations. As fellow warriors, keeping the conversation going without delving too much into the despair surrounding them had been bolstering, so he had not made efforts to keep a distance from the Iskaran. Now that they were in Lysara and he had seen the human next to the Princess and who he assumed to be the Prince — and yes, Mikhael will be ignoring the fact that the Iskaran Prince is a Changeling until his dying days to avoid that specific brand of drama — greeting the Lysaran officials, he is regretting his choice. He already found himself drawn to Aytaç, he didn’t mean to involve himself any further with the same group that would have killed him if they had known of his status as a cambion. 

It’s hard to avoid someone when they are both stuck in the same area, though, so he isn’t surprised when he runs into the nobleman a few weeks after the realization of his possible status.

“This trip made for strange bedfellows, didn’t it?” He asks as he greets the man with a nod, having decided not to act too differently in hopes to avoid him from looking into him. “And yet, here I am, still not knowing your name. My apologies.”

[theportaraceli]

who? @forsakesor where? A random street in Eterna near the city gates when? Before Neptunalia begins

Eterna is as busy as ever, if not busier as the crowds flow through the streets of the growing city like the pulse of a beating heart. The entire city is looking forward to losing themselves to the festivities, the dark cloud of Aetheron’s presence pointedly ignored in hopes of focusing on something more joyful. It’s a baffling experience, but Araceli supposes that they need the festivities to dispel some of the gloom that has befallen them after the Iskaldrik attack. Morale is important, and she is glad that Neptunalia is just around the corner. 

There is no purpose for her current wandering across Eterna, and she is doing nothing more than wasting time waiting for the next invitation to come for the next party and so on. It’s her lack of purpose that has her slowing down when she notices a stranger looking too confused to be anything but a tourist. 

“Are you lost?”

[blightedmikhael]

who? open to the troupe where? Nornwatch Tower when? who knows, they are hangin' at the end of the world

Concerns upon concerns weight on his mind the more time he is left alone to sit upon them. Their time in their tower is indefinite, the seconds pacing slowly as every moment that passes brings him closer to discovery. A month ago— Abyss, two weeks and a day ago, discovery would be his main concern. Yet, despite still ranking relatively high amidst his many— and increasing — concerns, discovery no longer ranks first. The Iskaran Kingdom had fallen on the span of a day, and with it the most pressing threat of discovery. What could the Witchers do now, surrounded by supernaturals as they are? What could the Witchers do now, that the mines were not a convenient tomb for anything deemed not human enough? What could they do, with increasingly limited resources, when faced with the sheer number of supernaturals he had seen through their desperate journey to safety? The true number of supernaturals remained a mystery even to him, but his Infernal Sight did not simply go away in times of great danger and he had caught more than a glimpse of non-humans as they traveled the darkened tunnels.

Discovery remained a concern, always, but there were more pressing matters to attend. Rationing, assuaging fears, inspiring hope, deescalating conflict. As much as Mikhael hated to admit it, the surviving Witchers had been working around the clock to keep the peace, but there were only so many of them and their priorities were clear: the nobility above the commonfolk, the royal above all else. Their hosts had their own concerns as well, so he had taken it upon himself to make his rounds through the less monitored groups of refugees and offer a kind word and a warm smile to try and keep the morale. It is crucial, now more than ever, to keep the will to live going, for without it? Without it the chances of survival dropped drastically, and he is determined to push those chances up with all he has.

He is not made by determination alone, though, and even the most devout must rest. He is resting in one of the many spiraling staircases found across the keep, chin in hand as his gaze is lost in the horizon, when he hears steps approach and he lifts his head, a brow raised in polite inquiry.

"Apologies, am I in your way? Shall I move?"

[hiddenvaldis]

who? @agrcn where? Caribellan streets when? during the road so far drop

“You don’t look like the usual sort,” Valdís muses as she falls into step next to the armored man. The armor is a good make, solid craftsmanship. Worth a pretty penny in the market, but easily recognizable too. Probably a heirloom or important enough that jumping the stranger for it would be too much of a hassle in the long term. That, and it’s really not worth getting into trouble in Caribella. The man is clearly not a pirate, the armor is too heavy and fancy for most raiders to take out in open sea and risk rusting, and he is altogether too clean for someone who calls the port home. “Lookin’ for a bounty or for passage? Or somethin’ more interesting?”

[hiddenvaldis]

who? @shewolfaurea where? Hole in the Wall, Feronia when? During the road so far drop

Rarely does Valdís venture as far inland as Feronia, the region too far from the ocean she is familiar with to be comfortable. There is no denying the temptation to explore the Northern coast of the Wildlands, but her fleet has yet to reach that far. It’s a rarity for Valdís to take a Standing Stone deeper into Lysara, but she can’t help the curiosity. She knows the refugees and their welcoming party gather at the edges of the odd magical bubble, and she wants to know more. Not enough to venture too close to the barrier, though, not when she is sure there are plenty of eyes on them. Instead, she finds herself in Feronia’s pub, sitting at the corner of the bar as her eyes lazily flicker through the crowds, trying to gather anything of note. Deep in her musings as she is, she doesn’t react much when a pretty stranger sits next to her, only raising a brow in amusement at the entrance. 

“Let me guess, you saw me across the room and liked my vibes?” She asks, an amused smirk on her lips as she raises her ale to her lips. “Or did I fail a vibecheck, and now we are honor bound to duke it out?

[engineerzuleima]

who? @sakkarathekeeper where? trivia’s cove when? during the  road so far

Zuleima touches down on Trivia’s Cove on Cloudy’s back, humming distractingly as she pats the wyvern’s snout affectionately before dismounting. Working through the different flaps on Cloudy’s mouth, she frees the bag she had secured back in Eterna and nods a goodbye to the wyvern before turning and heading deeper into the woods, her humming turning progressively louder as she approaches Sakkara’s above. Sneaking on the Dúnedain is amusing enough, but she has learned to only do so at odd intervals, or the famous Sakkara of the Serpents would begin to expect the attempts. 

That would be far too boring.

So humming to make herself known when she didn’t feel like sneaking on the other it was. 

Making it to the Keeper’s humble abode, Zuleima rattled her knuckles against the frame just hard enough to be heard but hard enough to bring the structure down. Though, with the rackety feel of the entire abode sometimes she wondered how long it would last. 

“Do we need to do the dance of you pretending not to be home, scales?” She muses out loud, head tilted as she listens for the Dúnedain’s heartbeat. “I can hear you.”

[temperednuvi]

who? @alessiathepath where? the caverns, the iron cells when? a week after the last night

There is a constant movement, that of the cart pulling them forward and towards their grim fates. If any hope had remained in Nuvi after her escape from the mines, if it had been strengthened through their journey through the mines, it did not matter. That hope is done, replaced only by overwhelming fear and grim realization. There are echoes of something dark on the Weave, and the more she understands the darkspawn, the less she believes they will make it out of this ordeal. Not without a sacrifice many of them will fear to make. Perhaps a quick death would be quicker, trying to fight likely useless, but— 

A quick glance around makes her wince once more. The mortals are so young. Many of them barely look more than a decade beyond maturity, and even if she doesn’t quite believe there is a way out, she doesn’t want to doom them. Nuvi has long made peace with death, her own misadventures a balancing act that one day could push her towards the edge, but she is older than all around her and there is a tragedy in that. A tragedy she wants to stop, even if she doesn’t quite know how. Even if she were at her strongest, she would not be enough to allow for an escape, and she is far from her strongest now. Broken and shattered, eight years removed from her blessings, she doesn’t know if she will be able to call the earth or the plants with the deft hand needed for any sort of plan to take route.

“I almost preferred the mines,” she mutters to herself, not bothering to lower her tone even if there is a stranger sitting close enough to her. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she sighs and closes her eyes. “At least the monsters guarding us there wore a human guise.”

[temperednuvi]

who? @freydis-freydat where? the caverns, inside the iron cells when? the last night, after the kidnapping

There is little time to process the terror and adrenaline pumping through her veins as she is dragged away from the Nornwatch Tower and back into the darkness. If she were to be completely honest, Nuvi doesn’t remember much of anything until her back hits the iron bars and the pain and hot pain snaps her from the vague darkness that had clouded her senses as soon as they had entered the mines. Vaguely, she remembers screaming, scratching at the rock they dragged her over to try and stop her descent into the darkness, but she cannot be sure of anything but the way her nails have been ripped apart blood on her fingertips at her desperate attempt to avoid the caverns once more. 

A whimper escapes her as she shifts and hits the iron bars again, and she does her best to make herself smaller, to avoid touching the bars and anything else that might bring her pain. This drives her to sink into one of the other kidnapped woman’s side, and she mutters a quick apology even if she doesn’t make the effort to move. 

“My apologies, but any other position and I will be touching the bars, and— Well,” she shrugs minutely as she tilts her head to show her ears. “Iron doesn’t agree with me.”

[blightedmikhael]

who? @etienneulven where? Nornwatch Tower when? Troupe 1

Mikhael had found nothing of use on the woods, or at the very least, nothing he could share. Nothing but a solitary rock. Not quite a king's bounty, but lovely to look regardless. Palm sized and rough enough to feel but not to harm, it looked startlingly similar to the rings found on a tree stump once cut but had the hard consistency of rock. Constant touch would likely smooth the rough edges, but on the mean time it would do nicely as a soothing motion, he thinks, he hopes. A worthy offering even if it isn't he thinks, and hopefully enough to bring a smile on the kind looking werewolf he had found sorting through rocks more than once in their journey. No rock had seemed to measure so far, but with so little to amuse oneself with, Mikhael is looking forward to see if his rock will pass muster.

"I found this one in the woods," he comments nonchalantly as he opens his gloved hand to show the slightly taller man, eyes on the other as he is curious how he will react. "It's a different shade than the ones in the tunnel, but I still thought you would appreciate it."

[temperednuvi]

who? @arr0s where? the fuckin' wasteland, babyyyy when? on their long and epic journey to meet the king

The cold does not recede as they walk, the gales of wind the only sound around them aside from their steps and the quiet murmur of conversation. Shenuvun knows there is little worry of them being tracked at this point, on the terrain she is infinitively familiar with, but that does not stop her from glancing around over and over again. They are free, journeying underneath the starlight, but that does not mean they are not still hunted. Far too many beings with power beyond their imagination had been too interested in the princess of Iskaldrik for her to believe that they is no worry in the horizon.

Her current worries are not focused around the princess, though, but around the very same witcher that had saved them more than once.

Arros.

She now knows the name of the woman that had thrown her to the mines and caused her fear of the dark. She now knows the name of the reason she has a limp that pains her even now. Her fingers twitch, the urge to reach for the skull her shadow self had dropped and utter that name strong, but she fights it. They have survived too much, there are too many dangers ahead. She cannot get her revenge now.

She doesn't know if what she wants is revenge.

Nothing will give her those eight years back, but the witcher had fought for them, had intercepted one of Munin's attacks directed to Nuvi.

She can't not take that into account.

"I owe you my thanks," she mutters quietly, as she settles next to the witcher as they walk. She doesn't look at her, not quite sure if she will able to have this conversation if this does. "And—. Perhaps. Perhaps, we can take this opportunity to turn to a new page."