Today is of the Cycle Of The Seventh Moon.
Current Season & Month:  , Year: 543 A.R. (ref)

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Cosáin Scáthaithe

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Duilliath
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The Shadowed Paths of the Northern Rosewood - The Cosáin Scáthaithe

 

Far from Amenee’s settled fringes, far from the Dark Tower’s loathsome spire, far from the dust of the Austere and the ink blot stain of Haven, these paths run for leagues in the shadowed green halls of the Rosewood.  Some of the least traveled locations in Upper Noitnetta, the way is perilous. The seasoned traveler need not go hungry: there are many deer in the meadows where trees have fallen, and birds.  

The meadows are strung at intervals along the path, along that winding ‘road’ that while somewhat more passable than farther west, can be as gloomy and grim.  

Strangely, there is often frost in the meadows in the mornings and the nights are quite cold, even at the height of Summer.  

Why this should be is yet another mystery of this Fae Forest stronghold.

Duilliath Suilleach Seanake, Fool and the Traveler Who Lost a Kingdom


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Duilliath
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OOC - Duilliath and Baoun, With Doré From The Grænn Salur

After a long travel from the Salur, the Sidhe afoot, and Doré moved through the Green Halls into the Winding and Shadowed paths and continued to the northeast.  A distraction came from the Cat, who while riding in his satchel, was eventually transferred to the lass' saddle.  She had noted, as he had, the peculiar behavior of Baoun, that he was carrying something in his mouth, and when they stopped for a quick rest, she had been trying to coax him to reveal whatever it was that he carried.  

Baoun was, as ever, typically stubborn, and even though the Cat was passed back and forth betwixt them, that he would not open his jaws.  The girl had him now, holding him up by his scruff and trying to get him to surrender it.  "What is you have?" she had asked.  

Baoun, being obstinate, eventually relented to the soft scritching under his chin.  He peeled back his lips and expelled... a golden object.  

Duilliath Suilleach Seanake, Fool and the Traveler Who Lost a Kingdom


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Absynthe
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Doré

Well aware that she had a tendency to prattle on, Doré strove to leave many moments of silence during their journey. Baoun slept through much of the travel which amused her a great deal. Certainly that meant the moggie would be very busy when night fell and they were to sleep.

Hazel eyes slide to her quiet, long-strided companion alongside her. Did Sidhe sleep?

Almost an hour passed in silence as she contemplated what things his kind might or might not do like her own kind. Her expressive heart-shaped revealed evidence of those thoughts with lifted and knitted brow, pursed lips, widened and narrowed eyes, and once even a small chortle of laughter, which caused Baoun--now riding on her saddle--to give her a look.

Her thoughts moved to other channels that pressed more firmly on her mind: her missing mistress. She intuited that he would not let whatever had happened to Absynthe happen to her. He looked her way, and she smiled from her glad heart. 

They stopped for a brief rest, and she used the time wisely to slake hers and Marigold's thirst. Then she set to recapturing her mass of golden hair that had spent the entire day escaping. Doré straightened her fitted bodice and shimmied a bit to make sure underskirts, pockets, skirts were all settled around her narrow waist and flaring hips. 

It was then she realized her saddle-companion still had something in his jaws. She swished a stick with a few leaves attached to try and tempt him to pounce and give up his prize, but to no avail. She handed him to the Sidhe, but for all of his wisdom and magic, he had no better success, so the cat was passed back to her. 

Attempting to hold him still she inquired, "What have you fierce puss?"

Her fingers gently plied the black and white fur of the cat's cheek, jaw, and upper throat. She made a wordless croon, and with his front paws kneading, the moggie dropped something golden into her hand. She held it up to the Sidhe. 

"Where would he get such a thing?"

 

This post was modified 11 months ago by Absynthe

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Duilliath
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Duilliath Suilleach 

 

“And where did you get this little bauble, this ciaróg órga, cushla?” The little scarab seemed to gain some confidence of movement and the Sidhe with his long and clever fingers, grappled the little creature to the blanket and picked it up. He looked at it curiously, saying something very softly in a language that hadn’t been spoken in hundreds of years, at least.

The featureless ‘face’ reflected his own in its mirror bright surface. He touched its surface in a way and then the scarab stopped moving altogether.

”Baoun, where did you find this little treasure? Some grave good, most likely.” He placed the little object into Doré’s palm. “Keep it, for luck.”

He looked about at the possible position of the sun in the sky, and back to Doré, who seemed to have cinched and positioned herself fetchingly in her dress, and said, “The clearing on ahead might make a good stopping point.”

”Sidhe sleep, among other things.” He winked at her. “Let’s set camp there…” He looked at his own rather meager camping gear and at her and her burdens.  “The pleasures of the road vary, I’m sure we can make ourselves comfortable.”

Duilliath Suilleach Seanake, Fool and the Traveler Who Lost a Kingdom


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Duilliath Suilleach

 

The Sidhe led his strange troupe to the next clearing, where a parti-colored sky was shot through with streaky puffs of cloud.  The night would be clear, from all portents.  He set down his burdens, the accumulated detritus of a likely dead world and set to work to make something of this one.  There was grass here, so fodder for Marigold/Calendula would be no worry, and Baoun, sulking after having his strange gold plaything taken away, had found a low place where there was a small spring fed pool.  The turf there was very soft, so the Sidhe kept well clear of the little pool and its grassy eaves.  

The longer that he stayed focused on this Worlde, the more he was convinced that he was in the preface, or even the frontispiece of a new volume in his life.  He found the smooth top of a rounded boulder that seemed to be breaching the surface of the moss and turf, and set about making a small fire in a circle of smooth stones, but he used no wood to do it, it seemed that whatever he had done to the pebbles and cobbles had set them to glow with heat.  Heat without smoke.  It cooked the groats well enough, and he shared out what food he had that remained.  When he was fully restored, food might not be a problem again, but after the next morning, he might envy Baoun's idea of a repast.  

After the debacle of the previous night, when he had not been thinking clearly, he would not casually advertise his position again.

Of course, using sorcery was its own kind of signal... so there were drawbacks, occasionally. 

As he sat, preparing a small pot of water, his gaze turned to watching his companions.  Bauoun was lying in the grass, while Dore cared for her steed.  He watched her clever hands comb her mane and noted that she seemed to move much more strongly when she was working around the horse than otherwise. It was a source of confidence, familiarity. 

He understood that in a way that few others might.  Marigold was a link to a past that she hoped to reclaim.

How different was he in thinking much the same?  Absently, he found himself grasping the blue-green prism that hung on its silver chain. How different indeed?

Night was falling swiftly, and he called her over to sample the food from another world, while it was still warm. 

Duilliath Suilleach Seanake, Fool and the Traveler Who Lost a Kingdom


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Absynthe
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Doré the Tired and Hungry

The scarab had been a surprise and delight. She still wondered if the moggie had actually swiped the golden beetle from someone in their eternal rest. She decided the clever moggie had discovered a cache in a niche in the rocks where it had been hidden for years since some handsome adventurer had secreted it. Perhaps that rogue looked a bit like her Sidhe?

She scolded herself for wool-gathering and turned instead to finish unsaddling Marigold. For a few moments, she groomed the mare, humming softly as she worked. She could smell something cooking and she realized she was very hungry. Doré finished caring for her mare and saw the Baoun ferreting secrets from the ripples in the stream.

Dinner with the Sidhe was surprisingly wonderful. Not because the fare was fancy, but because he was the most interesting creature she had ever met. Unfortunately, Doré was exhausted. This was the first time in several days she had been somewhat safe. She rallied, too polite to ask how the fire had happened sans wood, but not too polite to ask a more general question.

"Does it pain you to use your majick? You are, after all, still recovering from a frightful battle." Her belly was content, her slim legs were drawn up beneath her skirts to conserve warmth. Dark gold lashes were sliding slower and slower across her green-brown eyes as she awaited his response.  

 


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Duilliath
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Baoun the Cat, AKA The Cat, The ur-Feline, Guardian of an Itinerant Sidhe and his charming companion 

Baoun got over his being put out by the loss of his bauble. At least the new two-legged companion had it, not Duilliath, who took everything as though it belonged to him.  Knowing the greed of the Sidhe, he probably thought that golden Doré belonged to him too.

’hmmmph’  She was no possession of his, she was under Baoun’s protection. As the two of them ate some of the rather tasteless (to the cat at least) food, he noted that he could see his breath… and that of the horse and the girl quite clearly.  He looked up, the bright points of light were clearly visible. It was very cold, so he crept closer and closer to the pair of them, eventually burying himself in the blanket the girl had wrapped around herself.  

Content, he drifted to sleep, sharing some of his warmth with her as she spoke in her soft mumble.

Duilliath Suilleach Seanake, Fool and the Traveler Who Lost a Kingdom


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Duilliath
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Duilliath Suilleach, Sidhe and Stranger

 

Duilliath did not need to sleep in the same way, weariness affected him differently than most. He would send his awareness into The Dream where he would wander and ‘wake’ after a fashion , refreshed.  

“Sidhe,” he began in a voice that had told thousands of stories, this would have been one, if he began with “Once upon a time.” “Sidhe have a means to touch… tap, if you will, energy that flows around them.  Here, as in many other locales, the magic is there already if you can simply perceive it.” He knew a lengthy explanation was not going to fall on her in the time between waking and sleep’s onrushing inevitability.  “I do Feel something, and it is a great effort to do some simple sorcery.  It was not and will not always be this way.  In the way a scar or callous can limit sensation, it is so for my Spirit that normally touches The Dream.” At that, by way of demonstrating, he ran his fingers up her hand to her forearm. She was as delightful to touch as she was to look upon.

 

If truth were told, his capacity to perform sorcery was nearly at its nadir now.  She did not need to know how vulnerable that made him, not now. 

As she began to drowse, he took his blanket and had spread it on the ground  by a ledge against the rock.  The Cat pleased him by warming… and warming to her. He had his cloak, the one that recalled leaves and bark in its colors loosely draped over his shoulders as the night grew unnaturally cold.  Tiny flakes of snow condensed from his breath and whilst she began to nod, he extended the cloak about her so that it might cover her and give her some of his unnatural warmth.  That was the thing about Sidhe, their lives breathed magic like lightning passed through a wire. Along the way, it warmed him as it passed.

Duilliath Suilleach Seanake, Fool and the Traveler Who Lost a Kingdom


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The chill was unnatural, a product of old magic that was unfocused and unspent from some great casting hundreds or thousands of years ago. The feeble sorcery that the Sidhe had worked caused its own ripples, like a rock dropped into a still lake.

There were ripples of a sort, and those ripples touched other surfaces and waves… spreading out slowly and inexorably.

Somewhere in The Deeps, they rang like bells.

A fiery eye opened. Something had disturbed its slumber.

Duilliath Suilleach Seanake, Fool and the Traveler Who Lost a Kingdom


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Doré: A Sleep Interrupted

Doré had fallen asleep to the sound of Duilliath's unique voice, and the velveteen fur of Baoun. She dreamt of eddies of warmth lead by a majickal escort. 

Her bowed lips turned up in a smile as she snuggled closer to her companions. 'Twas the safest she had felt since her embroidered slippers had touched the worn planks of the wharf. She felt the sunshine dip a kiss her way, spreading up her arm and breaking warmly over her body.

Slowly though, her smile faded and a growing tension drew her lips back. Doré's body curved in protectively toward the moggie, while at the same time her slender fingers curled around the Sidhe's garment. Her brows drew down and a tension arose in her jaw as she gritted her teeth. The sunshine was smothered in a darkness that moved like a cobra, twisting sinuously around her.

Heart pounding, her hazel opened to what she believed was the sound of a low, humming growl coming from the moggie. Non-moving, and non-speaking she blinked her long lashes quickly as she imagined a warning touch. What in the nine hells was out there?

 


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Duilliath
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Ooh: Well, this was distressing. My post did not save. I will reconstruct it

Duilliath Suilleach Seanake, Fool and the Traveler Who Lost a Kingdom


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Duilliath, Lost, a Hero to None

 

Duilliath was oblivious to the threads of sorcery and their outcomes, he had dipped into The Dream and was focused on his own Path.  He saw the Glow clearly, but between him and his Goal- there were shifting curtains of ghostly colors, hanging in the air like webs strung with dew-for there he hoped to relieve the pain that suffused him and blighted his spirit.

The creature of Fire and Shadow that manifested in the Dream’s equivalent of their clearing smoldered despite the near glacial chill. His Dream self, closer to his True self watched silently as the being manifested.

”I know what you are, Sidhe, better than you know yourself.  You, not I, have the Path that Prophecy has routed through the Dream.  It is not I who is called, Dweller in Twilight.  It is you.”

The thing coiled like a serpent. “Your kind put mine to sleep for five times a thousand years; where are your kin now, Walker in Shadows? It is you, and I, each the last.  But I am not the one that brings Death to the Worlds you tread, am I?  I am only it’s instrument.”

”You tread the sands of alien worlds: always collecting your pathetic following.  What fate awaits this bauble, I wonder?”

”Does she know what you are? Harbinger of Destruction, walking side by side with Death?  If she knew, would she stay?  Or would she lunge a dagger of cold iron in your heart?”

”Think on these things, my Enemy. Despair in knowing that simply by coming here,you have already lost this place.”

”Nightfall will come. The twilight will end.”

Duilliath Suilleach Seanake, Fool and the Traveler Who Lost a Kingdom


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Absynthe
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Where we Learn Marigold is a Fierce Flower

Doré heard the sound of a bell and she cried out, "Geiyaght!"  She knew from the bell's sound her mare sensed danger, and sure enough, she saw the mare coming toward her, nostrils wide and eyes flashing. 

Leaping to her feet, she caught the belled collar at the base of Marigold's neck, and swung herself onto the horse's back, skirts parting in the front and splaying out over the mare's haunches from behind. With one hand on the leather strap and the other wound in the long, silken mane near the withers. Switching her grip, Doré had her dirk out and ready for...what, she didn't know--but it was not allowed to harm her Sidhe and moggie. Marigold looked to their right, and the golden-haired healer felt a prickle of unease creep like death's kiss up her slim neck.

"Jesh!" The mare spun to the right, powerful haunches collected inward and kicked out. Ears pinned, teeth bared, the mare reared up and then threw herself forward, stamping her forelegs into the shadows to the side away from the Sidhe and the arched-back and hissing moggie. 

A frigid blast almost threw her from her mount, her teeth collided with her lip--and then--it was over. Marigold ceased her stamping and cow-kicking and the angry twisting of her tail. Marigold's tipped ears swiveled back and forth several times, and then mare snorted. 

Doré slid down, patting the mare's damp neck as she looked at the Sidhe and then to the moggie. "Are either of you harmed?"


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Duilliath
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Duilliath Suilleach, No Hero

The Sidhe's dark eyes were already open, but they were Seeing something else. He seemed to start to wakefulness, but he was not asleep. What had happened? The fiery eye had moved its gaze elsewhere.  The chill fingers that had come by night had melted away, and now, he saw golden Doré launched from the ground onto the back of Marigold... Calendula.  He could not make sense of it, not quite yet.  

"Hold," he said, "Put up your steel," for in truth it burned at even this distance, "I... " he watched her slither down from her perch. She fairly glowed. Parts of her seemed as sinuous as the voice that had gone - what had that been?  "Baoun... and I are... are well."

He stood, putting one hand out to touch her shoulder touching right to left, "What is it?" Was she a sensitive? His left hand tingled as it hung by his side, but covered by its glove, it did not betray anything.  "There were a hundred sorceries in this place last night. Is that what you felt?"

Duilliath Suilleach Seanake, Fool and the Traveler Who Lost a Kingdom


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Duilliath
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Baoun, a Cat, not just any cat, mind you, but The Cat!

Can cats fly?

If any Cat could, it would be the black and white splotched fellow that had recently fallen into a deep sleep - one where he soared after birds in their native element. 

“Hah! Featherbrains! You will never escape me!” This was his happy purr.  

Of course, he could not fly, or he had decided not to reveal this power of his quite yet.

Baoun did not know what was happening, he just woke as he sailed in the air.

He had been ejected from the warm bosom of their golden visitor.  Yellow-green eyes blinked open and his feet spread wide as he landed in the frost-rimed grass. 

The pretty one with the nice voice and hands was on the horsey smelling one, looking around wildly and waving her steel around in the direction of the Sidhe.

Of course, she was mad at the Sidhe!  Who wasn’t? He glared at Duilliath reproachfully.  It figured, he wrecked a good thing.  Now he has lost his warm place to sleep.  

He arched his back, hair bristling, daring the Sidhe to try something now that he was awake!

Duilliath Suilleach Seanake, Fool and the Traveler Who Lost a Kingdom


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