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"Drink it up."
Sibatti
Mamba dur NayaAmidst vibrant flora and trees
Premise: What happens when a Shaman on psychoactive drugs shares a mindspace with the Seer?
Starring: Sibatti, @Lin and @Iesid
Mentions: Katerinka, @Stine and @Omei
Content warning: drugs
Context: All three characters can read thoughts, so they can see all of the thoughts in orchid. Sib is a telepath and these are her hallucinations to the target, denoted like "→ Iesid" being a projection sent to Iesid.
Enjoy the ride!
The Mulariad's Mark Taproom.
Positioned on the counter, a tip jar sits here with "Support your favorite tavern!" labeled on the front. A chromatic fountain of translucent crystals is here on display. Tiny flames circling its form, a miniature fire elemental spins slowly here. A polished magewood bar atop tangled roots is here, a 'Mulariad's Mark'-branded glass bottle and a heavy glass bottle atop it. Colorfully engraved brawls and ballads adorn the edge of a sturdy taproot table. Sprouting in modest clusters are the shy growths of silvery bluets. A delicate grish flower has been strewn on the ground. A sprig of purple lilac has been left behind. Standing vigilant, a wrinkled ancestral simulacrum waits here. Standing vigilant, a masked ancestral simulacrum waits here. Standing vigilant, a scarred ancestral simulacrum waits here. Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer is here. He wields a pair of heavy wargauntlets in his hands. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale. The lanterns are woven from the silk of chaos moths, scattering light in every which brightness and way and hue.
You see exits leading south (open stone door) and in (closed stone door).
Sibatti
Iesid
"Esrytesh," Iesid remarks from behind the bar. The Seer seems to have just finished cleaning, judging by the pile of dirtied rags next to the gleaming array of different taps. "Lookin' for somethin'?"
You have emoted: Sibatti almost creeps in, walking on the balls of her feet in silent steps, though she makes no actual attempt to hide. "Heeey...." she replies, her voice holding the note for a meandering moment. She moves intentionally to stand directly in front of Iesid, gripping the edge of the bar with her hands and bending down in an attempt to look at his face.
You think:
Oh, he -does- have pretty eyes....
Lin arrives from the south.
As Lin crosses the precipice of the bar, he rolls his shoulders in tight circles, fruitlessly hiking up his kimono, and giving a vain flick of his chest, shying away some perceived speck of dust or a misplaced hair. Flashing the two of you a smarmy, yet radiant smile, he chooses a place to sit at the bar.
Your scrutiny causes Iesid's shoulders to hunch just a little more than usual - he backpedals a half step, the small of his back bumping against the service counter underneath the taps he had just cleaned. Despite this sudden grasp for more space, the Seer levels his own gaze at you so intensely, so singularly, that he does not even register Lin's sudden arrival into his own establishment. Idle as they are, he raises his hands up to plant against the counter behind him. "She looks back from behind them, you know," he mumbles.
You have emoted: "I bet She sees a lot of interesting things, then," Sibatti chirps back, a wide grin stretching her lips back over fangs. She isn't one to shy away from intensity, and holds Iesid's stare for long enough that she might also have ignored Lin's entry altogether. In a snappy, sudden break away from the stareoff, she moves away and towards Lin where she'll deliver a loud smack of lips to his cheek and ask, "Feeling better?"
Lin flips his hair aside, prepping himself to receive your kiss, with a flippant expectancy that matches your energies all-too-well. "Almost," he says, shooting Iesid a highly impressionistic gesture involving tossing and fanning his fingers - it could be a 'hello.' Digging in to a small pouch, he comes up with a white slice of fine powder, nestled into his claw, and brings it to his nose for a rough sniff.
"She's seen so many lays, it's a wonder She doesn't crush the pretty things," Lin remarks.
You think:
[Broad pale shapes dissolve against an ocean of stars].
"When the mood strikes, yes," Iesid admits as he peels off each of his wargauntlets to reveal the slender fingers beneath. Each empty gauntlet hits the counter with a loud thud, the two of them a metallic pile that he soon shoves to the very end of the bar with a sweep of one arm. The gesture gives him a good start at leaning over the counter to try and get a look at what his esteemed customers might be up to - especially Lin and his pouch.
Iesid just thought:
[One distinct memory of such a time - not so much the act in question, but instead the Queen's riotous laughter at its carefully obfuscated specifics.].
Lin just thought:
[A blast of sparks showers against the back of his head, heating up his skull...].
You have emoted: Sibatti slings a gloved arm across Lin's shoulders, behind his neck, leaving it there lazily. She doesn't lean against so much as stand against him, adopting a casual and relaxed affectation. Her other palm comes up to hold her own cheek, laughing out loud, but quietly. "I wonder if She still cuddles up to the Boss... aheh...."
Iesid just thought:
When the nature of the situation finally dawns on Iesid, his thoughts descend into a fit of laughter.
You think:
[Visions in dark nights now in ripe manifestation].
Lin has had practice, bedding down the onset of his high by bracing his fingers against the countertop, regarding the back of his hand beneath low, brooding lashes, uttering little more disturbance than the occasional rough breath, working the sand out of his windpipe. He dips his finger into the bag again, bringing up a clawful of what could only be scintilily, and wordlessly extends this to Iesid, in offering.
Lin just thought:
[His skin feels like burnt paper. His lungs are too large in his chest. There's some kind of gas inside the tubes of his bones, and it's hot.].
(Shamans): Pilar says, "Morning, Praadi."
(Shamans): Mati says, "And to you, Pilar."
(Shamans): You say, "We greet the sun's tail into another full summer's day, riding waves of its wild energy. Good morning, sister-Heir."
(Shamans): Mati says, "Oh..."
"Th'f--k's in t--" Iesid begins to inquire, though his mouth snaps shut shortly after the true nature of Lin's extended gift becomes too obvious for any speculation. His violet eyes flit between the alabaster offering and Lin's face in a rapid series of motions, and his lips twist and purse for all of the breath or two that Corruption makes Her waking known. Soon, he leans dangerously close to the claw - watching Lin's face the entire time as he makes his decision known in silent approach. With a single nostril, the Seer makes an amateurish attempt at insufflation that manages to capture /most/ of what is offered.
Lin just thought:
"Hot."
You think:
Cradle innocence -- make them safe and warm with the mother.
You have emoted: It's fortunate that Sibatti already has her palm on her cheek and is prepped as-is to receive Iesid's attempt, that she can immediately fawn with helpless adoration. Her tail moves freely with a slow, but deliberate energy, its pastel fan of feathers rolling and twisting like an exotic fan wafting small breezes in Lin's direction.
Iesid just thought:
It does not take the Seer very long to feel something, the comparative lightweight that he is: a towering bonfire sweeps through his very being, filling the space between thoughts in blazing borders. Energy, inspiration. A sudden realization that even the Queen's gifted senses for emotion are heightened by way of hypersensitivity to smell and taste.
The subtle change in eye color saps the warmth from Lin's face at times, so that he wears a saturnine expression in observance of Iesid, the corners of his mouth turning up - just barely. He takes what is left, poking his claw into his mouth, rubbing the finer remains of the powder around in his gums. "Do you want some," he offers quietly to you, his words chased by a loud, coarse breath, one that reveals the arrythmic flutter of his heart.
Katerinka arrives from the south.
When Iesid is finished partaking in Lin's offered gift, he jerks away just a little too swiftly. As he presses his palms against his counter, the Seer shuts his eyes and shakes his head rapidly in a manner that spills his dark mane from side to side. Wrinkling his button nose, he issues another sharp inhalation and then clears his throat just a tad. When he finds his voice, each syllable spoken shakes with impatience defiant of the deliberately slow pace he sets himself at: "Thought she already did?" he inquires with a nod towards you.
Katerinka seems singleminded in her focus until her eyes catch light of the colorful lanterns above. She stops where she lands, staring at them with wide eyes. If she notices there are others in the room, she gives no indication.
Iesid just thought:
The impatience has never been stronger in him; he grapples with it as if in mortal combat.
You have emoted: Sibatti shakes her head slowly in response to Lin's offer, answering both him and Iesid, "I'm walking with different demons..." The hand on the back of his neck is moving, making idle picking motions with her long claws, barely grazing skin, as her attention turns slowly in the direction of Katerinka. The attention spent on the lanterns causes her to pay attention to them, too, tilting up her chin towards the color-painted lights and smiling beatifically.
Finally losing her interest in the lanterns wavers, and Katerinka looks around at those present. She gives a tight, distracted smile before beginning to poke through the cigarettes for sale.
You think:
Ecstatic, perfect, naked lunatics that you are.
Iesid just thought:
The Seer's thoughts turn towards whatever it is that Lorir had brought him - he only vaguely remembered licking his way through the entire bag, to Stine's chagrin. What he remembered in place of such banality, however, were distinct sightings of Dendaric spirits. "Maybe that's it," the Seer concludes. "He's right, you're supposed to snort it."
Katerinka buys an indigo cigarette etched with silver hares.
The insects and other natural life that call you their home crawl over Lin's hand in its travels, his claws pick-pick-picking their way over the criss-crossing lines that make up your bodysuit, paying just as much attention to the knotwork as the diamonds of plumped flesh in the spaces between. He's less talkative even than usual, tending to stare, his overstimulated eyes darting between Iesid and you. There is an incredible, palpable energy about him, even in his stillness, and the sense that he's doing everything he can to keep it bedded down.
You think:
Reach for me - grow like the radiant sun! Fill yourself on the source of my energy, my love...
Katerinka holds an indigo cigarette etched with silver hares as if it's a treasure she's just obtained. Her eyes focus on it in her cupped hands as she makes her way back out of the shop.
Katerinka leaves to the south.
The very second the girl leaves, Lin seizes you by the neck and catches you with a hard and unrestrained kiss, venting out so much frustrated energy in the space of a second.
"Enjoy that," Iesid calls after Katerinka, his words packed with a little /too/ much pep - the corners of his mouth stretch up towards the luminous violet eyes affixed within his pale face, their brightness flitting back towards Lin with all his jitters your euphoric state. "Her demons seem pretty nice to lo--" the Seer begins to jest, before the remaining 'o' trails off and leaves his mouth agape at the sudden drug-driven passion. He barely bothers to look away, his slender fingers drumming along the magewood counter in an agitated display of contained energy.
Iesid just thought:
"Should store some, set it aside, next time I'm in the library," the Seer plots. "Shit, we'd wreck the place."
Iesid just thought:
"... but I'll bet some more would me clean it up and rebuild it in a night." Soon, he's beginning to rationalize the notion of using it for productivity. A slippery slope!
You have emoted: Sibatti is still smiling somewhat vapidly as she's wrested away from staring at the lanterns. If Lin is barely-contained kettle bursting with steam, she's a reservoir of placid waters; her eyes close serenely, melting into the kiss, no tension visible whatsoever in her frame. A soft, pleased murmur is hummed out from her throat, and when their lips eventually part, she'll bat her eyelashes slowly at him. "You won't want to snort the stuff Stine gave you," she says as an aside to Iesid, not looking away from her spouse's face. "Might be like chomping on the raw seed itself in that it'll kill ya...."
Lin parts from you with a rakish nip of your lip, drawing back into his seat, resuming his previous activity: stroking your flank through your bodysuit, instead. Whatever it was he sought in the kiss, he seems to have found some of it, letting out his sped breath through his teeth, finding a hard-earned relaxation, no longer threatening to vibrate the furniture apart. He still won't say another word, undergoing one of those highs that makes the linguistic part of the brain either unimportant or far too bothersome to use.
You think:
[Love from her heart nourishes creation and kin. Her power is like a boundless cauldron, round with the energies of a full summer's moon].
"Figures, the f--kin' idiot," Iesid irritably remarks, the impatient drum of his fingers gaining a more thunderous quality at the mention of the man's name. On and on it goes like a stampede, the pads of his fingers slamming down upon the bar as if the slender digits were delivering a flurry of blows to some fallen foe. It takes a long time for the Seer's wordless expression to soothe completely, its reluctant ebb providing a staccato of magewood drumbeats that underlines the words he eventually speaks: "That ain't what you had, though. You smell..."
After a silent grapple for words, Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer says, "It's like a tranquil spring few mortals ever set foot near. It's crisp. Enlivening. Calm."
Iesid just thought:
And too strong, the Seer recognizes - too powerful, a near overwhelming surge against his senses. It was worse moments ago, though - but the descent from that jittery, sensitive high is slower than the calming of his fingers.
Iesid just thought:
"F--kin' prick," the Seer thinks again.
You have emoted: Sibatti relishes in the attention, whether granted by Lin in the way of physical touch, or the assessment Iesid voices of her state. "Drink it up," she encourages him with an edge in her voice, some complex marriage of challenge and temptation. She extends the arm closest to the bar, resting her wrist palm-up on its surface, clawed fingers relaxed and unthreatening.
Lin finds himself easing back in his seat, fascinated by your proposition, as if he could taint its message with his humours by lingering too close. A garish flush washes over his ears and the fringe of his brow - but that could be the scintilily doing things to his blood vessels.
Where Iesid can't see it, beneath your cloak, Lin has taken hold of the base of your tail, squeezing tightly.
---> Lin
Even this is hard to elicit a jump, as tranquil as she is, but it does flex and twist subtly beneath your grip.
In challenge to you - or perhaps by the blessed serendipity that drugs sometimes align with - Iesid inhales again through his nostrils in a loud, empty sniff. "How th'f--k d'you do it?" he finally asks both of you - either of you, perhaps. With barely a breath taken, he bites down on his bottom lip in another anxious expression of the pent up energy coursing through him. He casts a longing look behind him towards the taps, his owlish gaze finally torn away from the two lovers on the other side of the counter.
You have emoted: Gently, Sibatti murmurs, "Take my hand, Seer. There is more." She doesn't notice Iesid's glance away, suggesting that she might be hypnotized by the state of Lin's skin, or the colorless nature of his eyes.
Iesid just thought:
That distant spring again, with its calming coolness that is quickly chased away by the fire of the scintilily; bubbling up beneath the surface of a usually cool facade are thoughts he might usually manage to keep out of the clutches of others - flashes of things more primal, liberated from the typical decorum he manages to present.
Without another word, Iesid reaches a tentative hand out towards your own - his slender fingers touch your palm first, like a skittish swimmer, before he finally settles his hand there fully.
You think:
[She swims in the ocean of his eyes].
Lin slips free from his stool, crowding up against the bar, a complete one-eighty from before, hemming in against you, raptly interested in what transpires. His tail can be espied from over his back, acting as an unimpeachable signal of the thrill he experiences. Gazing at you from beneath the shade of his lashes, simmering and lovestruck, he smears his cheek against yours, turning you head in Iesid's direction. "You took her hand lightly - never even considered what happens after," he remarks.
Lin just thought:
[The rest of his life began from the first time he did that.].
Iesid just thought:
"... the f--k did I just..."
Iesid just thought:
Mute panic.
You have emoted: Sibatti's s reaction is greatly delayed, leaving Iesid plenty of time to settle in before her hand moves, closing gently, her hand small but her claws granting her a larger grip than she would otherwise have. Her grip is never tight, or forceful, and he would be able to pull away in an instant if desired. Her two primary eyes close, only her fey-like and glowing thirdeye giving any indication of what she focuses on: and it's to no one's surprise that she turns it on Iesid's form.
You think:
The rest of yo u r l i f e . . . .
→ Iesid
Maybe you expected electricity, like a shock of kai energy that would travel down from her mind, through your joined hands, to infiltrate your brain, in a lash of unpleasantness. It doesn't come.
→ Iesid
Something akin to it opens, and you feel an immediate and palpable mixing of chemicals, whatever she's on, balancing out the sensitive, overly-jittery effects you're feeling.
→ Iesid
Its like she dips your trembling nerves into the tranquil cool waters of some untouchable glade, pristine and forbidden.
Lin just thought:
[He's been letting his lizard brain steer him, completely checked out - it's the appeal of the powder. The hot coals it distributes through his bloodstream do an effective job of poking and jabbing it into following instinct].
If Iesid's eyes could grow any wider, they definitely do. The scars around them stretch, strain in an effort to convey not a single bit of horror - but absolute awe and fascination. The Seer's lips part, a shuddering breath wracking through him even as his hand quakes within your grasp. He manages a stunned reply for Lin not long after, the syllables blunted by a sudden serenity: "I should have more faith in those around me. I trust her."
Iesid just thought:
Inside is where the magic happens - something comes over the Seer that he hadn't quite managed in a long, long time - or, rather, what he thought was a long time. His nerves calm, their fire tamed to a low crackle. His thoughts find some semblance of organization - it is still a little scattered, true, but nowhere near the frantic leaps of moments ago.
A shadow passes across Lin's face, acting upon him like strange weather, his glazed eyes settled on the join of hands atop the bar. It is without a moment's consideration that he lays his atop the tangle, his black claws spreading over Iesid's and your fingers alike. "You must trust her," he articulates, in a low voice, resonating from his breast. "We can't trust -anyone- else, not anymore."
→ Iesid
She weaves delight, understated skill and simplicity, tuning the path that connects you towards a framing that never strays far from a core understanding...
→ Iesid
...a long-awaited rebirth of a consciousness turning itself over, revealing a green underside. You feel it, but should you open your senses and accept the full measure of her ability, you will see it too.
→ Iesid
Portals of every color, devotions, beloved shrines erected in the subconscious, singing songs to delight in the pure beauty of serenity and love. Each one whispers prayers that you feel you could reach out and collect.
Iesid just thought:
Like a nervous doe, the Seer reaches out mentally - he strains, seeking those prayers and songs most of all as the displays burst forth into his mind. It is different from oneiromancy, he soon discovers - but perhaps not /that/ different...
You have emoted: It's as if Sibatti isn't really present in the physical; though she breathes and reacts bodily to the stimuli surrounding her, it's always several seconds delayed and dulled. She breathes evenly through her nose, lips turned up in a smile that seems more of a state than an expression.
"I trust a few others," Iesid remarks in a distracted drone. His head turns, violet eyes wide as he tries to drink in Lin's nearness and presence. "Just a few, not many, far too few," he confides - though he remains serene and cool, there is a hint of tearfulness at the words.
Iesid just thought:
Had he always known that? Had it always... not bothered him? Was that what this was?
You think:
Young, beloved, reborn. Throb with life. Stretch into your sweetness.
"Not important," Lin answers. Perhaps he's growing quieter with each gnomic proclamation, or perhaps whatever's happening in your collective consciousness is too loud for him to be overheard. "It's here. Now. There's -something- if you'll just listen..."
Iesid just thought:
And listen he does - or at least he strains to try. "Do minds have ears?" the Seer wonders. A monastic lesson drifts back into his awareness: 'to listen, one must first be silent'. The Azudim attempts to emulate this, setting aside those extraneous thoughts or concerns as Lin had instructed. Little by little, he manages to open up his mind - it is much like prying fingers rendered frozen by rigor mortis from a good sword, but he eventually does it. It doesn't /want/ to open - or rather, there is a vague dread and discomfort at the very notion that he might need to... but he does.
Iesid's hand, sandwiched between your own and Lin's wicked claws, trembles more and more - a frightful quiver like a terrified rabbit.
Lin just thought:
[For him it's an effortless thing, a skill he learned the way you learn to swim. He has some rampart presence in his mind that you can -feel-, and lets it fall. It is every bit as deliberate, just as vulnerable, as stripping off his clothing. The grey noise of his conscious thoughts goes quiet.].
→ Iesid
Each one claimed feels soft enough that you might melt it, should your thoughts turn too heavily upon them. She coaches you with her background presence,murmuring words of calming, sweet encouraging praises when you relax.
→ Iesid
Her sun is roasted ecstasy, blistering away your frozen winter, coaxing the blossoming of seeds long-buried
You have emoted: The hand of Sibatti's that's not held by Iesid reaches for Lin, blindly roaming through the air to land on whatever it finds.
You think:
The flesh composts, the soil skin becomes ... blossoms.. more fully your self.
Lin lowers his head, letting his ears droop, so that your roaming hand would catch the side of his cheek or the sweep of his temple. If he has any real function in this strange interlude between the two of you, it's to act as the piton on the end of a chain: his hand imparts a terrible weight, holding the others fast to the bar. Whatever it is he's done, whether as a demonstration for Iesid's benefit or as some kind of learned instinct, it makes his eyes slack, his lips pushed into a semi-permanent 'O', his face vapid, distant as he listens.
→ Lin
She opens her mental pathways to you, also -while managing to keep the other man separate. You can observe, but not participate, glimpsing into her mind what she shares with his
Iesid just thought:
Open as his mind is, some things become intensely obvious: there's guilt buried deep down somewhere, allowed to siphon and bubble to the surface in agreeable amounts during any other lucid or sober time. The Seer makes no attempt to thrust it aside - instead, he simply turns toward Sibatti's power and whatever support it is that he might have drawn from Lin's advice or presence. He forgets the guilt and throbbing concerns, the bundled up insecurities nestled betwixt them like foul loot, and instead turns towards that notion: rebirth. The reformation of consciousness... the blossoms, the full self - and whatever it could yield.
Now and only now does Iesid's hand cease trembling. Whatever it is that might have bothered him, whatever it is that he had struggled with and quaked in fear of, it is no more for the time being. A deep, relaxed inhalation gathers within the Azudim's longs, his frame steadying, straightening out in posture.
→ Iesid
The blossoming is inherently innocent, playful; it promises a cleansing of your inner spaces, the darkest rooms of your being.
→ Iesid
You innately understand that it would crumble when faced by a more powerful doubt, should you not protect it, nurture it.
You think:
Lover.. earth and body, court your beloved and pulse your life into dreams unfolding. Awaken the vitality of your soul, sing to the ever-growing expanse that swells within you!
You have emoted: Sibatti shares in this type of deep, relaxed intake and exhaling of breath, though her nose. Her lips are soft, her found touch on Lin's temple slipping down to the join of his neck and shoulder. The vibrant light of her thirdeye begins to show its first signs of waning.
Lin's droned, empty-headed state lasts for minutes apart, though pesky consciousness crests the surface of his thoughts, like a weak swimmer making desperate breast-strokes back to shore. All of this to say that he stirs, his pulse quickening against your palm, his fingers curled around the hands stacked beneath his, squeezing in a bizarre and newfound comraderie. Through heavy, drunken eyes, he gazes at Iesid, clearly trying to find something in his face.
Iesid just thought:
Like a child reaching out for a mother longed for, the Seer seeks to... secure? this new growth, sheltering it within the fertile soil of his mind. He affixes it there in heart and mind, desperation causing his mind's eye to tremble for a moment before reaffirming itself. Salvation - rebirth, longed for and desired for so long - remains at the forefront of his mind. Even his doubt of its possibility is dwarfed by the immensity of what he is faced with... so much so that...
... so much so that Iesid is crying. Streams of tears pour down his pale face, his blank gaze no longer registering anything - there's a cathartic sort of quality to it, his lip quivering in the beginnings of a begrudging smile. It is the most visible reaction from the Azudim since his joining of hands with both of you, his tears wordless as the experience works its way through him.
→ Iesid
It's like the equivalent of a sigh - felt rather than heard. A numbness that soaks you in its entirety - grounding, but also strangely energizing.
→ Iesid
You feel the tranquil state of her mind flood yours, shared but trembling, like the last bits of life shaking out of a dying being. She unroots herself and disconnects, a somber invitation that you read intuitively.
→ Iesid
The profound harmony, the healing vibration, the sense that the longer you engage in this divine bliss, the more portals open to you.
→ Iesid
Then you will flip it over again, and find another green belly of rebirth where you will stretch your sweetness out in another direction.
Iesid just thought:
"Thank you," the Seer manages through his awe, through the raw pain of skirting around the miserable welts upon his mind.
Lin just thought:
"That's right. She turns your f--king world upside down... and you thank her."
In a raspy repeat of something unspoken, Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer says, "Thank you."
Lin just thought:
[The scintilily hasn't lost its grip on him so much that he doesn't feel an incredible, exaggerated thrill through his very core, a deluge of admiration for his mate.].
You have emoted: Sibatti's eyes crack open like one waking from a nap, squinting for an extended moment before they slowly, gradually ease back open. There's a flash of energetic tension felt in the hand holding Iesid's own, a twitch and nothing more, though it seems to symbolize the end of something after so much stillness and silence. "Ohh...." she sighs, at nothing in particular, sounding exactly like someone coming down from something.
Lin doesn't move his hand, but the pressure of it, hard enough to make the skin clammy, alleviates - you could slip free without incident. His shoulders rise and fall deeply with a laborious, much-needed breath - the first he's taken in some time. "I think I'm jealous," he says, waylaying the accusation with a shaken and quite sincere grin, unconsciously showing his fangs.
Iesid carefully extracts his grip from beneath Lin's cruel claws, the hand quivering minutely - it soon strays into his lap, where it interlaces with the fingers of his other hands in an attempt to quell whatever has come over him physically. Still, the Seer continues to cry in a quiet and fairly unobtrusive manner, the tears coursing down his cheeks in large dollops the splatter the pristine surface of his bar. "It was quite the experience," comes the Azudim's reply in a small voice, his lips lifting into a feral grin. "Unforgettable," he assures you through his continued tears.
Iesid just thought:
Even now, the Seer is trying to close the doors that he had thrown open so haphazardly; they creak shut, once more concealing all those little things he keeps beneath the surface - but now, perhaps, there is a window with fresh growth in view.
Starring: Sibatti, @Lin and @Iesid
Mentions: Katerinka, @Stine and @Omei
Content warning: drugs
Context: All three characters can read thoughts, so they can see all of the thoughts in orchid. Sib is a telepath and these are her hallucinations to the target, denoted like "→ Iesid" being a projection sent to Iesid.
Enjoy the ride!
The Mulariad's Mark Taproom.
Positioned on the counter, a tip jar sits here with "Support your favorite tavern!" labeled on the front. A chromatic fountain of translucent crystals is here on display. Tiny flames circling its form, a miniature fire elemental spins slowly here. A polished magewood bar atop tangled roots is here, a 'Mulariad's Mark'-branded glass bottle and a heavy glass bottle atop it. Colorfully engraved brawls and ballads adorn the edge of a sturdy taproot table. Sprouting in modest clusters are the shy growths of silvery bluets. A delicate grish flower has been strewn on the ground. A sprig of purple lilac has been left behind. Standing vigilant, a wrinkled ancestral simulacrum waits here. Standing vigilant, a masked ancestral simulacrum waits here. Standing vigilant, a scarred ancestral simulacrum waits here. Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer is here. He wields a pair of heavy wargauntlets in his hands. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale. The lanterns are woven from the silk of chaos moths, scattering light in every which brightness and way and hue.
You see exits leading south (open stone door) and in (closed stone door).
Sibatti
She is a normal Azudim of Mhun heritage giving off an aura of inertia and rationed energy, her mannerisms plotted out and deliberate. Her dove grey skin is smooth and dewy, shifting into warmer ruddiness where the skin is naturally thinner and lending color to her otherwise muted appearance. Several tattoos adorn her visible flesh, her inner thighs bedecked with Teshen scripture, and parallel formations in pointillism decorating the inside of both forearms. A snakelike tail follows her at a great and trailing length, ending in a riot of colored quetzal feathers sweeping out in a dramatic fin shape. Small feet and fists end in wicked dark claws, and a black stain against her flesh travels inward to ankles and wrists before ghosting into ash. Slender and willowy in frame, her height is supplemented by a pair of great charcoal horns, spiraling out from the crown of her head like an eland's. The blend of hues in her hair is reminiscent of skysilver, uniformly silver while being nuanced with traces of cool pastels, thick and long and cascading around her back in waves. The same nuances are present in her exotic almond-shaped eyes, the color of a storm with slits of blue and green speckling them. They are made somewhat alien and hardened by the addition of black-inked tattoos, forming sweeping curlicues and jagged lines. Leaves are left in the wake of her steps, showing she walks with the Hunter's blessing. Her skin looks supple and fresh, the healthy glow surrounding her evidence of the minty and piney smelling lotion she has recently applied.
(bound by cords at the wrist) : long fingerless gloves wrapped with leather cords
(green whorls glowing softly) : a dusky cloak with lambent beryl whorls
(vertically slit within her forehead) : a pale and otherworldly thirdeye
(through her lower lip) : an aventurine labret
(barely covering anything) : a disheveled one-sleeved mesh leotard
(criss-crossing up her calves) : reinforced viridian leather leg wraps
(tucked behind an ear) : a phosphorescent glow flower
(sprinkled within waves of silver hair) : a handful of clover blossoms
(down her entire right side) : dath consuming in knotwork wilderness
(from fingertip to elbow) : blooming dath vines weaving through death and life
(crawling over her tail) : a large spider cricket
(perched on a horn) : an ethereal butterfly
(illuminating her hair) : a luminous firefly
(nested within a flower) : a beautiful peacock spider
(bound by cords at the wrist) : long fingerless gloves wrapped with leather cords
(green whorls glowing softly) : a dusky cloak with lambent beryl whorls
(vertically slit within her forehead) : a pale and otherworldly thirdeye
(through her lower lip) : an aventurine labret
(barely covering anything) : a disheveled one-sleeved mesh leotard
(criss-crossing up her calves) : reinforced viridian leather leg wraps
(tucked behind an ear) : a phosphorescent glow flower
(sprinkled within waves of silver hair) : a handful of clover blossoms
(down her entire right side) : dath consuming in knotwork wilderness
(from fingertip to elbow) : blooming dath vines weaving through death and life
(crawling over her tail) : a large spider cricket
(perched on a horn) : an ethereal butterfly
(illuminating her hair) : a luminous firefly
(nested within a flower) : a beautiful peacock spider
Iesid
He is an athletic Azudim of Tsol'aa heritage with black hair that juts out in an unruly mess, giving him the appearance of one that has just awakened. A few locks stray toward his eyes, their striking, coal-like shade standing out in contrast against the pale tone of his flesh. The Azudim stands lithe and tall, at about six feet and half another, and his shoulders are hunched just slightly in a display of poor posture. There is a small amount of muscle evident in his gaunt form, and his frame overall looks hardened by the result of aggressive training. A small scratch sullies his left cheek, its slim size suggestive of the thin, wickedly sharp implement that might have delivered it. The man's nose could only be described as straight-edged, ending in a tiny 'button' to round out its shape. Peeking out from beneath the mess of his hair are two slightly pointed ears that betray his heritage. His eyes are an arresting shade of violet, and their sharp shape and luminous glow are uncannily similar to that of the eyes of a predatory feline. Framing those hungry eyes are mottled scars, a sign of some prior hasty healing around the sockets themselves. A spray of bright crimson slashes run across his face in the shape of predatory swipe, with darker, black paint ringing both eyes. Otherworldly eyes of violet shine forth from his face, luminous with fey and eldritch light. Leaves are left in the wake of his steps, showing he walks with the Hunter's blessing.
(firmly fastened to his right hand) : a ylem-binding gauntlet of the Parxian Order
(shown prominently upon his left hand) : a draekite and steel ring
(around the neck) : a sulfurous amulet
(dangling from a loop on his belt) : a cracked hematite medallion of the Pride
(displayed proudly on his right hand) : an iron Mulariad crest ring
(settled evenly across the back) : a hardy violet rucksack
(gently affixed to the lapel of his coat) : a tentacle-framed cameo of the Manipulator
(latched about one slender wrist) : a compass-inlaid ilmenite bracer
(covering the body) : a suit of polished field plate armour
(tied with intricate knots) : a pair of brown, fur-trimmed boots
(settled uneven upon his hips) : a leather weaponbelt of the hunt
(dangling from a sturdy chain) : an eternal chase pendant
(strapped to one thigh) : a quiver of Cthalut
(coiled around his left forearm) : a silver star tattoo
(draped over the shoulders) : a nomad's coat of unstable midnight hues
(firmly fastened to his right hand) : a ylem-binding gauntlet of the Parxian Order
(shown prominently upon his left hand) : a draekite and steel ring
(around the neck) : a sulfurous amulet
(dangling from a loop on his belt) : a cracked hematite medallion of the Pride
(displayed proudly on his right hand) : an iron Mulariad crest ring
(settled evenly across the back) : a hardy violet rucksack
(gently affixed to the lapel of his coat) : a tentacle-framed cameo of the Manipulator
(latched about one slender wrist) : a compass-inlaid ilmenite bracer
(covering the body) : a suit of polished field plate armour
(tied with intricate knots) : a pair of brown, fur-trimmed boots
(settled uneven upon his hips) : a leather weaponbelt of the hunt
(dangling from a sturdy chain) : an eternal chase pendant
(strapped to one thigh) : a quiver of Cthalut
(coiled around his left forearm) : a silver star tattoo
(draped over the shoulders) : a nomad's coat of unstable midnight hues
"Esrytesh," Iesid remarks from behind the bar. The Seer seems to have just finished cleaning, judging by the pile of dirtied rags next to the gleaming array of different taps. "Lookin' for somethin'?"
You have emoted: Sibatti almost creeps in, walking on the balls of her feet in silent steps, though she makes no actual attempt to hide. "Heeey...." she replies, her voice holding the note for a meandering moment. She moves intentionally to stand directly in front of Iesid, gripping the edge of the bar with her hands and bending down in an attempt to look at his face.
You think:
Oh, he -does- have pretty eyes....
Lin arrives from the south.
He is a muscular Idreth of Human heritage, one who may have once been Human, but has become something more - or less. Built hard with pronounced, scrappy muscle, a tendency to lope as he walks, and skin the color of untreated kawhe, he is a black-clawed demon of a man, something that might stalk an otherworldly jungle. Of indeterminate age, he has the panache of a mercurial desert prince, equally capable of sunny grins and nakedly furious glares. While his right eye is a phantom colorless tone, the other has been replaced with a strange jewel of glossy black. They are shaded beneath a spiky and unkempt mass of black hair, styled rebelliously with pronounced bangs and a long thicket of a ponytail, but with the majority of his scalp cut down into dark fuzz. From his skull protrudes a pair of fat spiraling horns, twisting around the shape of his ears: long, elfin, transitioning from dark skin to wispy black fur. At the base of spine depends a long and ropy tail; it seems to do the majority of the talking for him, acting as an extension of his body language. An impression of lips, red and stark as blood, glows upon the back of his left hand. Sparks of ember fall in his wake, revealing the blessing of Ethne. The clean scent of a refreshing sea breeze lingers around him - the aroma marking the blessing of the Maelstrom.
(spiraling down his arm) : a red tiger tattoo
(worn loose and hanging off his shoulders) : a magnificent kimono of Caerhays crescent trees
(hanging from his sash) : a morose, disfigured half-mask
(clung to him like second skin) : dark brown leather pants
(heavy over his heart) : a heavy quartz pendant on a gold chain
(in place of his left eye) : a smoky black eye of unfamiliar crystal
(overhung by sharp claws) : a pair of wooden slat-based sandals
(spiraling down his arm) : a red tiger tattoo
(worn loose and hanging off his shoulders) : a magnificent kimono of Caerhays crescent trees
(hanging from his sash) : a morose, disfigured half-mask
(clung to him like second skin) : dark brown leather pants
(heavy over his heart) : a heavy quartz pendant on a gold chain
(in place of his left eye) : a smoky black eye of unfamiliar crystal
(overhung by sharp claws) : a pair of wooden slat-based sandals
As Lin crosses the precipice of the bar, he rolls his shoulders in tight circles, fruitlessly hiking up his kimono, and giving a vain flick of his chest, shying away some perceived speck of dust or a misplaced hair. Flashing the two of you a smarmy, yet radiant smile, he chooses a place to sit at the bar.
Your scrutiny causes Iesid's shoulders to hunch just a little more than usual - he backpedals a half step, the small of his back bumping against the service counter underneath the taps he had just cleaned. Despite this sudden grasp for more space, the Seer levels his own gaze at you so intensely, so singularly, that he does not even register Lin's sudden arrival into his own establishment. Idle as they are, he raises his hands up to plant against the counter behind him. "She looks back from behind them, you know," he mumbles.
You have emoted: "I bet She sees a lot of interesting things, then," Sibatti chirps back, a wide grin stretching her lips back over fangs. She isn't one to shy away from intensity, and holds Iesid's stare for long enough that she might also have ignored Lin's entry altogether. In a snappy, sudden break away from the stareoff, she moves away and towards Lin where she'll deliver a loud smack of lips to his cheek and ask, "Feeling better?"
Lin flips his hair aside, prepping himself to receive your kiss, with a flippant expectancy that matches your energies all-too-well. "Almost," he says, shooting Iesid a highly impressionistic gesture involving tossing and fanning his fingers - it could be a 'hello.' Digging in to a small pouch, he comes up with a white slice of fine powder, nestled into his claw, and brings it to his nose for a rough sniff.
"She's seen so many lays, it's a wonder She doesn't crush the pretty things," Lin remarks.
You think:
[Broad pale shapes dissolve against an ocean of stars].
"When the mood strikes, yes," Iesid admits as he peels off each of his wargauntlets to reveal the slender fingers beneath. Each empty gauntlet hits the counter with a loud thud, the two of them a metallic pile that he soon shoves to the very end of the bar with a sweep of one arm. The gesture gives him a good start at leaning over the counter to try and get a look at what his esteemed customers might be up to - especially Lin and his pouch.
Iesid just thought:
[One distinct memory of such a time - not so much the act in question, but instead the Queen's riotous laughter at its carefully obfuscated specifics.].
Lin just thought:
[A blast of sparks showers against the back of his head, heating up his skull...].
You have emoted: Sibatti slings a gloved arm across Lin's shoulders, behind his neck, leaving it there lazily. She doesn't lean against so much as stand against him, adopting a casual and relaxed affectation. Her other palm comes up to hold her own cheek, laughing out loud, but quietly. "I wonder if She still cuddles up to the Boss... aheh...."
Iesid just thought:
When the nature of the situation finally dawns on Iesid, his thoughts descend into a fit of laughter.
You think:
[Visions in dark nights now in ripe manifestation].
Lin has had practice, bedding down the onset of his high by bracing his fingers against the countertop, regarding the back of his hand beneath low, brooding lashes, uttering little more disturbance than the occasional rough breath, working the sand out of his windpipe. He dips his finger into the bag again, bringing up a clawful of what could only be scintilily, and wordlessly extends this to Iesid, in offering.
Lin just thought:
[His skin feels like burnt paper. His lungs are too large in his chest. There's some kind of gas inside the tubes of his bones, and it's hot.].
(Shamans): Pilar says, "Morning, Praadi."
(Shamans): Mati says, "And to you, Pilar."
(Shamans): You say, "We greet the sun's tail into another full summer's day, riding waves of its wild energy. Good morning, sister-Heir."
(Shamans): Mati says, "Oh..."
"Th'f--k's in t--" Iesid begins to inquire, though his mouth snaps shut shortly after the true nature of Lin's extended gift becomes too obvious for any speculation. His violet eyes flit between the alabaster offering and Lin's face in a rapid series of motions, and his lips twist and purse for all of the breath or two that Corruption makes Her waking known. Soon, he leans dangerously close to the claw - watching Lin's face the entire time as he makes his decision known in silent approach. With a single nostril, the Seer makes an amateurish attempt at insufflation that manages to capture /most/ of what is offered.
Lin just thought:
"Hot."
You think:
Cradle innocence -- make them safe and warm with the mother.
You have emoted: It's fortunate that Sibatti already has her palm on her cheek and is prepped as-is to receive Iesid's attempt, that she can immediately fawn with helpless adoration. Her tail moves freely with a slow, but deliberate energy, its pastel fan of feathers rolling and twisting like an exotic fan wafting small breezes in Lin's direction.
Iesid just thought:
It does not take the Seer very long to feel something, the comparative lightweight that he is: a towering bonfire sweeps through his very being, filling the space between thoughts in blazing borders. Energy, inspiration. A sudden realization that even the Queen's gifted senses for emotion are heightened by way of hypersensitivity to smell and taste.
The subtle change in eye color saps the warmth from Lin's face at times, so that he wears a saturnine expression in observance of Iesid, the corners of his mouth turning up - just barely. He takes what is left, poking his claw into his mouth, rubbing the finer remains of the powder around in his gums. "Do you want some," he offers quietly to you, his words chased by a loud, coarse breath, one that reveals the arrythmic flutter of his heart.
Katerinka arrives from the south.
When Iesid is finished partaking in Lin's offered gift, he jerks away just a little too swiftly. As he presses his palms against his counter, the Seer shuts his eyes and shakes his head rapidly in a manner that spills his dark mane from side to side. Wrinkling his button nose, he issues another sharp inhalation and then clears his throat just a tad. When he finds his voice, each syllable spoken shakes with impatience defiant of the deliberately slow pace he sets himself at: "Thought she already did?" he inquires with a nod towards you.
Katerinka seems singleminded in her focus until her eyes catch light of the colorful lanterns above. She stops where she lands, staring at them with wide eyes. If she notices there are others in the room, she gives no indication.
Iesid just thought:
The impatience has never been stronger in him; he grapples with it as if in mortal combat.
You have emoted: Sibatti shakes her head slowly in response to Lin's offer, answering both him and Iesid, "I'm walking with different demons..." The hand on the back of his neck is moving, making idle picking motions with her long claws, barely grazing skin, as her attention turns slowly in the direction of Katerinka. The attention spent on the lanterns causes her to pay attention to them, too, tilting up her chin towards the color-painted lights and smiling beatifically.
Finally losing her interest in the lanterns wavers, and Katerinka looks around at those present. She gives a tight, distracted smile before beginning to poke through the cigarettes for sale.
You think:
Ecstatic, perfect, naked lunatics that you are.
Iesid just thought:
The Seer's thoughts turn towards whatever it is that Lorir had brought him - he only vaguely remembered licking his way through the entire bag, to Stine's chagrin. What he remembered in place of such banality, however, were distinct sightings of Dendaric spirits. "Maybe that's it," the Seer concludes. "He's right, you're supposed to snort it."
Katerinka buys an indigo cigarette etched with silver hares.
The insects and other natural life that call you their home crawl over Lin's hand in its travels, his claws pick-pick-picking their way over the criss-crossing lines that make up your bodysuit, paying just as much attention to the knotwork as the diamonds of plumped flesh in the spaces between. He's less talkative even than usual, tending to stare, his overstimulated eyes darting between Iesid and you. There is an incredible, palpable energy about him, even in his stillness, and the sense that he's doing everything he can to keep it bedded down.
You think:
Reach for me - grow like the radiant sun! Fill yourself on the source of my energy, my love...
Katerinka holds an indigo cigarette etched with silver hares as if it's a treasure she's just obtained. Her eyes focus on it in her cupped hands as she makes her way back out of the shop.
Katerinka leaves to the south.
The very second the girl leaves, Lin seizes you by the neck and catches you with a hard and unrestrained kiss, venting out so much frustrated energy in the space of a second.
"Enjoy that," Iesid calls after Katerinka, his words packed with a little /too/ much pep - the corners of his mouth stretch up towards the luminous violet eyes affixed within his pale face, their brightness flitting back towards Lin with all his jitters your euphoric state. "Her demons seem pretty nice to lo--" the Seer begins to jest, before the remaining 'o' trails off and leaves his mouth agape at the sudden drug-driven passion. He barely bothers to look away, his slender fingers drumming along the magewood counter in an agitated display of contained energy.
Iesid just thought:
"Should store some, set it aside, next time I'm in the library," the Seer plots. "Shit, we'd wreck the place."
Iesid just thought:
"... but I'll bet some more would me clean it up and rebuild it in a night." Soon, he's beginning to rationalize the notion of using it for productivity. A slippery slope!
You have emoted: Sibatti is still smiling somewhat vapidly as she's wrested away from staring at the lanterns. If Lin is barely-contained kettle bursting with steam, she's a reservoir of placid waters; her eyes close serenely, melting into the kiss, no tension visible whatsoever in her frame. A soft, pleased murmur is hummed out from her throat, and when their lips eventually part, she'll bat her eyelashes slowly at him. "You won't want to snort the stuff Stine gave you," she says as an aside to Iesid, not looking away from her spouse's face. "Might be like chomping on the raw seed itself in that it'll kill ya...."
Lin parts from you with a rakish nip of your lip, drawing back into his seat, resuming his previous activity: stroking your flank through your bodysuit, instead. Whatever it was he sought in the kiss, he seems to have found some of it, letting out his sped breath through his teeth, finding a hard-earned relaxation, no longer threatening to vibrate the furniture apart. He still won't say another word, undergoing one of those highs that makes the linguistic part of the brain either unimportant or far too bothersome to use.
You think:
[Love from her heart nourishes creation and kin. Her power is like a boundless cauldron, round with the energies of a full summer's moon].
"Figures, the f--kin' idiot," Iesid irritably remarks, the impatient drum of his fingers gaining a more thunderous quality at the mention of the man's name. On and on it goes like a stampede, the pads of his fingers slamming down upon the bar as if the slender digits were delivering a flurry of blows to some fallen foe. It takes a long time for the Seer's wordless expression to soothe completely, its reluctant ebb providing a staccato of magewood drumbeats that underlines the words he eventually speaks: "That ain't what you had, though. You smell..."
After a silent grapple for words, Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer says, "It's like a tranquil spring few mortals ever set foot near. It's crisp. Enlivening. Calm."
Iesid just thought:
And too strong, the Seer recognizes - too powerful, a near overwhelming surge against his senses. It was worse moments ago, though - but the descent from that jittery, sensitive high is slower than the calming of his fingers.
Iesid just thought:
"F--kin' prick," the Seer thinks again.
You have emoted: Sibatti relishes in the attention, whether granted by Lin in the way of physical touch, or the assessment Iesid voices of her state. "Drink it up," she encourages him with an edge in her voice, some complex marriage of challenge and temptation. She extends the arm closest to the bar, resting her wrist palm-up on its surface, clawed fingers relaxed and unthreatening.
Lin finds himself easing back in his seat, fascinated by your proposition, as if he could taint its message with his humours by lingering too close. A garish flush washes over his ears and the fringe of his brow - but that could be the scintilily doing things to his blood vessels.
Where Iesid can't see it, beneath your cloak, Lin has taken hold of the base of your tail, squeezing tightly.
---> Lin
Even this is hard to elicit a jump, as tranquil as she is, but it does flex and twist subtly beneath your grip.
In challenge to you - or perhaps by the blessed serendipity that drugs sometimes align with - Iesid inhales again through his nostrils in a loud, empty sniff. "How th'f--k d'you do it?" he finally asks both of you - either of you, perhaps. With barely a breath taken, he bites down on his bottom lip in another anxious expression of the pent up energy coursing through him. He casts a longing look behind him towards the taps, his owlish gaze finally torn away from the two lovers on the other side of the counter.
You have emoted: Gently, Sibatti murmurs, "Take my hand, Seer. There is more." She doesn't notice Iesid's glance away, suggesting that she might be hypnotized by the state of Lin's skin, or the colorless nature of his eyes.
Iesid just thought:
That distant spring again, with its calming coolness that is quickly chased away by the fire of the scintilily; bubbling up beneath the surface of a usually cool facade are thoughts he might usually manage to keep out of the clutches of others - flashes of things more primal, liberated from the typical decorum he manages to present.
Without another word, Iesid reaches a tentative hand out towards your own - his slender fingers touch your palm first, like a skittish swimmer, before he finally settles his hand there fully.
You think:
[She swims in the ocean of his eyes].
Lin slips free from his stool, crowding up against the bar, a complete one-eighty from before, hemming in against you, raptly interested in what transpires. His tail can be espied from over his back, acting as an unimpeachable signal of the thrill he experiences. Gazing at you from beneath the shade of his lashes, simmering and lovestruck, he smears his cheek against yours, turning you head in Iesid's direction. "You took her hand lightly - never even considered what happens after," he remarks.
Lin just thought:
[The rest of his life began from the first time he did that.].
Iesid just thought:
"... the f--k did I just..."
Iesid just thought:
Mute panic.
You have emoted: Sibatti's s reaction is greatly delayed, leaving Iesid plenty of time to settle in before her hand moves, closing gently, her hand small but her claws granting her a larger grip than she would otherwise have. Her grip is never tight, or forceful, and he would be able to pull away in an instant if desired. Her two primary eyes close, only her fey-like and glowing thirdeye giving any indication of what she focuses on: and it's to no one's surprise that she turns it on Iesid's form.
You think:
The rest of yo u r l i f e . . . .
→ Iesid
Maybe you expected electricity, like a shock of kai energy that would travel down from her mind, through your joined hands, to infiltrate your brain, in a lash of unpleasantness. It doesn't come.
→ Iesid
Something akin to it opens, and you feel an immediate and palpable mixing of chemicals, whatever she's on, balancing out the sensitive, overly-jittery effects you're feeling.
→ Iesid
Its like she dips your trembling nerves into the tranquil cool waters of some untouchable glade, pristine and forbidden.
Lin just thought:
[He's been letting his lizard brain steer him, completely checked out - it's the appeal of the powder. The hot coals it distributes through his bloodstream do an effective job of poking and jabbing it into following instinct].
If Iesid's eyes could grow any wider, they definitely do. The scars around them stretch, strain in an effort to convey not a single bit of horror - but absolute awe and fascination. The Seer's lips part, a shuddering breath wracking through him even as his hand quakes within your grasp. He manages a stunned reply for Lin not long after, the syllables blunted by a sudden serenity: "I should have more faith in those around me. I trust her."
Iesid just thought:
Inside is where the magic happens - something comes over the Seer that he hadn't quite managed in a long, long time - or, rather, what he thought was a long time. His nerves calm, their fire tamed to a low crackle. His thoughts find some semblance of organization - it is still a little scattered, true, but nowhere near the frantic leaps of moments ago.
A shadow passes across Lin's face, acting upon him like strange weather, his glazed eyes settled on the join of hands atop the bar. It is without a moment's consideration that he lays his atop the tangle, his black claws spreading over Iesid's and your fingers alike. "You must trust her," he articulates, in a low voice, resonating from his breast. "We can't trust -anyone- else, not anymore."
→ Iesid
She weaves delight, understated skill and simplicity, tuning the path that connects you towards a framing that never strays far from a core understanding...
→ Iesid
...a long-awaited rebirth of a consciousness turning itself over, revealing a green underside. You feel it, but should you open your senses and accept the full measure of her ability, you will see it too.
→ Iesid
Portals of every color, devotions, beloved shrines erected in the subconscious, singing songs to delight in the pure beauty of serenity and love. Each one whispers prayers that you feel you could reach out and collect.
Iesid just thought:
Like a nervous doe, the Seer reaches out mentally - he strains, seeking those prayers and songs most of all as the displays burst forth into his mind. It is different from oneiromancy, he soon discovers - but perhaps not /that/ different...
You have emoted: It's as if Sibatti isn't really present in the physical; though she breathes and reacts bodily to the stimuli surrounding her, it's always several seconds delayed and dulled. She breathes evenly through her nose, lips turned up in a smile that seems more of a state than an expression.
"I trust a few others," Iesid remarks in a distracted drone. His head turns, violet eyes wide as he tries to drink in Lin's nearness and presence. "Just a few, not many, far too few," he confides - though he remains serene and cool, there is a hint of tearfulness at the words.
Iesid just thought:
Had he always known that? Had it always... not bothered him? Was that what this was?
You think:
Young, beloved, reborn. Throb with life. Stretch into your sweetness.
"Not important," Lin answers. Perhaps he's growing quieter with each gnomic proclamation, or perhaps whatever's happening in your collective consciousness is too loud for him to be overheard. "It's here. Now. There's -something- if you'll just listen..."
Iesid just thought:
And listen he does - or at least he strains to try. "Do minds have ears?" the Seer wonders. A monastic lesson drifts back into his awareness: 'to listen, one must first be silent'. The Azudim attempts to emulate this, setting aside those extraneous thoughts or concerns as Lin had instructed. Little by little, he manages to open up his mind - it is much like prying fingers rendered frozen by rigor mortis from a good sword, but he eventually does it. It doesn't /want/ to open - or rather, there is a vague dread and discomfort at the very notion that he might need to... but he does.
Iesid's hand, sandwiched between your own and Lin's wicked claws, trembles more and more - a frightful quiver like a terrified rabbit.
Lin just thought:
[For him it's an effortless thing, a skill he learned the way you learn to swim. He has some rampart presence in his mind that you can -feel-, and lets it fall. It is every bit as deliberate, just as vulnerable, as stripping off his clothing. The grey noise of his conscious thoughts goes quiet.].
→ Iesid
Each one claimed feels soft enough that you might melt it, should your thoughts turn too heavily upon them. She coaches you with her background presence,murmuring words of calming, sweet encouraging praises when you relax.
→ Iesid
Her sun is roasted ecstasy, blistering away your frozen winter, coaxing the blossoming of seeds long-buried
You have emoted: The hand of Sibatti's that's not held by Iesid reaches for Lin, blindly roaming through the air to land on whatever it finds.
You think:
The flesh composts, the soil skin becomes ... blossoms.. more fully your self.
Lin lowers his head, letting his ears droop, so that your roaming hand would catch the side of his cheek or the sweep of his temple. If he has any real function in this strange interlude between the two of you, it's to act as the piton on the end of a chain: his hand imparts a terrible weight, holding the others fast to the bar. Whatever it is he's done, whether as a demonstration for Iesid's benefit or as some kind of learned instinct, it makes his eyes slack, his lips pushed into a semi-permanent 'O', his face vapid, distant as he listens.
→ Lin
She opens her mental pathways to you, also -while managing to keep the other man separate. You can observe, but not participate, glimpsing into her mind what she shares with his
Iesid just thought:
Open as his mind is, some things become intensely obvious: there's guilt buried deep down somewhere, allowed to siphon and bubble to the surface in agreeable amounts during any other lucid or sober time. The Seer makes no attempt to thrust it aside - instead, he simply turns toward Sibatti's power and whatever support it is that he might have drawn from Lin's advice or presence. He forgets the guilt and throbbing concerns, the bundled up insecurities nestled betwixt them like foul loot, and instead turns towards that notion: rebirth. The reformation of consciousness... the blossoms, the full self - and whatever it could yield.
Now and only now does Iesid's hand cease trembling. Whatever it is that might have bothered him, whatever it is that he had struggled with and quaked in fear of, it is no more for the time being. A deep, relaxed inhalation gathers within the Azudim's longs, his frame steadying, straightening out in posture.
→ Iesid
The blossoming is inherently innocent, playful; it promises a cleansing of your inner spaces, the darkest rooms of your being.
→ Iesid
You innately understand that it would crumble when faced by a more powerful doubt, should you not protect it, nurture it.
You think:
Lover.. earth and body, court your beloved and pulse your life into dreams unfolding. Awaken the vitality of your soul, sing to the ever-growing expanse that swells within you!
You have emoted: Sibatti shares in this type of deep, relaxed intake and exhaling of breath, though her nose. Her lips are soft, her found touch on Lin's temple slipping down to the join of his neck and shoulder. The vibrant light of her thirdeye begins to show its first signs of waning.
Lin's droned, empty-headed state lasts for minutes apart, though pesky consciousness crests the surface of his thoughts, like a weak swimmer making desperate breast-strokes back to shore. All of this to say that he stirs, his pulse quickening against your palm, his fingers curled around the hands stacked beneath his, squeezing in a bizarre and newfound comraderie. Through heavy, drunken eyes, he gazes at Iesid, clearly trying to find something in his face.
Iesid just thought:
Like a child reaching out for a mother longed for, the Seer seeks to... secure? this new growth, sheltering it within the fertile soil of his mind. He affixes it there in heart and mind, desperation causing his mind's eye to tremble for a moment before reaffirming itself. Salvation - rebirth, longed for and desired for so long - remains at the forefront of his mind. Even his doubt of its possibility is dwarfed by the immensity of what he is faced with... so much so that...
... so much so that Iesid is crying. Streams of tears pour down his pale face, his blank gaze no longer registering anything - there's a cathartic sort of quality to it, his lip quivering in the beginnings of a begrudging smile. It is the most visible reaction from the Azudim since his joining of hands with both of you, his tears wordless as the experience works its way through him.
→ Iesid
It's like the equivalent of a sigh - felt rather than heard. A numbness that soaks you in its entirety - grounding, but also strangely energizing.
→ Iesid
You feel the tranquil state of her mind flood yours, shared but trembling, like the last bits of life shaking out of a dying being. She unroots herself and disconnects, a somber invitation that you read intuitively.
→ Iesid
The profound harmony, the healing vibration, the sense that the longer you engage in this divine bliss, the more portals open to you.
→ Iesid
Then you will flip it over again, and find another green belly of rebirth where you will stretch your sweetness out in another direction.
Iesid just thought:
"Thank you," the Seer manages through his awe, through the raw pain of skirting around the miserable welts upon his mind.
Lin just thought:
"That's right. She turns your f--king world upside down... and you thank her."
In a raspy repeat of something unspoken, Iesid Mulariad, the Imago's Seer says, "Thank you."
Lin just thought:
[The scintilily hasn't lost its grip on him so much that he doesn't feel an incredible, exaggerated thrill through his very core, a deluge of admiration for his mate.].
You have emoted: Sibatti's eyes crack open like one waking from a nap, squinting for an extended moment before they slowly, gradually ease back open. There's a flash of energetic tension felt in the hand holding Iesid's own, a twitch and nothing more, though it seems to symbolize the end of something after so much stillness and silence. "Ohh...." she sighs, at nothing in particular, sounding exactly like someone coming down from something.
Lin doesn't move his hand, but the pressure of it, hard enough to make the skin clammy, alleviates - you could slip free without incident. His shoulders rise and fall deeply with a laborious, much-needed breath - the first he's taken in some time. "I think I'm jealous," he says, waylaying the accusation with a shaken and quite sincere grin, unconsciously showing his fangs.
Iesid carefully extracts his grip from beneath Lin's cruel claws, the hand quivering minutely - it soon strays into his lap, where it interlaces with the fingers of his other hands in an attempt to quell whatever has come over him physically. Still, the Seer continues to cry in a quiet and fairly unobtrusive manner, the tears coursing down his cheeks in large dollops the splatter the pristine surface of his bar. "It was quite the experience," comes the Azudim's reply in a small voice, his lips lifting into a feral grin. "Unforgettable," he assures you through his continued tears.
Iesid just thought:
Even now, the Seer is trying to close the doors that he had thrown open so haphazardly; they creak shut, once more concealing all those little things he keeps beneath the surface - but now, perhaps, there is a window with fresh growth in view.
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