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shadowbringers
shadowbringers |
beneath the stars It's been a week since our newest expansion officially launched! And, I know, I know... some of you already have a lot of feelings that you need to air out. But canon updating in your games is a struggle! And so is finding PSL partners! Luckily, that's what we're here for.This is a post for you to play out all the Shadowbringers-related content you might be dying to write. Behind-the-scenes nonsense? Between-the-scenes angst? It's all welcome here! 1. Toplevel your character. Include any details you might think are relevant. Or don't. As always, we're not the cops. 2. Reply to other people's top levels! 3. Have fun! ⚔ Please clearly mark all spoilers in your thread subject lines. Clearly indicate whatever spoiler preferences you may have. We're only a week into the expansion, officially, and there's no shame if you're not far in it or haven't started it yet. ⚔ You are welcome to play characters who are new to Shadowbringers. However, please try to avoid topleveling with icons and descriptions that convey major plot-related spoilers. If you aren't certain about a character's playability, feel free to PM ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small} parser. |
TEMPLATE CODED BY valoirs
valoirs
hope this is okay! lemme know if I need to change anything
[The truth of the thing was that the First had become as much of a home to him as the Source itself. Oh, he could still smell the breeze coming off the rivers in Dravania when he let his mind wander; he could still feel the weight of the bow in his hand, the grip of the quiver's belt across his chest. But those memories dulled with time and too much distance, the bow lighter than it should have been, the belt looser than it needed to be, nudged aside and away by the real and firm weight of the staff at his back.]
[The Crystal Exarch was what he was now, an identity given to him in the First after those first few protective and primitive structures rose in what would one day be called the Crystarium. That he had not been erased completely once the match set to spark the Eighth Umbral Calamity had been extinguished stood as testament to that. He wondered, not for the first time, if in his effort to save the First and the Source, he had not accidentally somehow established himself as a part of this world forever.]
[It made sense, in a strange way. His own reflection here on the First had not survived the Flood. Of that, he was fairly certain, though he kept the cowl on anyway until very recently, just in case. His soul would never replace that man, whoever he had been, just as it could not replace a younger G'raha Tia still slumbering in the Crystal Tower on the Source.]
[The thought did not bother him as much as he imagined it might, not until the exhaustion finally caught up with him late into the true night after everything that had happened and he made his polite excuses and parted from the crowd to retreat to the Tower and a moment of lonely meditation. It worked well enough - they were all impossibly weary and sorely needed rest that more than enough sleep couldn't provide. For him, it was different. Physically, he was fully recovered, the strength of the Tower reaching out to him to replenish what he lacked the closer he was to it. It would always be that way, now that he was a part of it. Before he ever set foot in the Crystarium proper, he felt right again, in body.]
[In soul and in mind, he could sleep forever and never know peace. Days later, now noted by the passing of night to the return of the sun and back again, after the Warrior of Darkness was returned to the Source and the Scions parted ways to tend to matters of their own on the First and life had returned to some semblance of normalcy with a renewed sense of hope, he felt it wearing on him. With or without the Tower's energy, his own sense of purpose had refreshed itself. His people sensed it, let it bleed over into their interactions with him as he let theirs catch onto him. Their joy, their relief. To them, he was the Crystal Exarch still, ever firm in his resolve to see the Crystarium and the First healed and her people well and truly happy. He was their leader, their protector, their voice with other nations, keeper of the Crystal Tower.]
[Inside the Tower, within the Ocular, where he stood alone, watching over his new home and his friends from afar while he yet had to remain or risk becoming a burden when his strength was too far sapped, he was one man pushed under a heavy mantle that had only been easier to wear in time - cruel and necessary time. And somehow, it was all exactly as it should have been. He needed only to see the smiles on his people's faces, to hear the laugh in their voices to know it.]
This is great! Also end of 5.0 spoilers alert
She’s spent the past days attendant, at times outright fussing, though the physicians at Spagyrics declared him well enough as did his healer friends from beyond the stars, and the Exarch himself only repeated that he was well, he was fine, the blood washed off clean enough and his tattered robes found replacement. What injuries he might have carried back to the Crystarium remain only upon his heart, and those are mending.
And when he looked upon his people, his ears twitched. It was such a remarkably ordinary mystel expression of pleasure she found it then so odd - and continues to do so as it happens throughout the celebration and the walks he takes in these new days, hood lowered, a tentative smile bringing blessed shadow to his crimson gaze. Lyna returns to her post by day - and walks the road to the city at twilight, eyes ever on the first blossoming stars.
This night those steps bring her to his Ocular door. There is no report. No emergency. No crisis or unwelcome guests. Yet here she is, ready and waiting to serve under his distant, considerate command.
Lyna lifts one fist and knocks gently.]
aaaa! spoilers!
[He hasn't, of course - these books are his comfort as much as his colleagues. He reads them anyway, glad for the chance to do so, keeping carefully separate the ones from his origins and the ones borrowed from the rather extensive libraries in the Crystarium though such care was hardly necessary. Their feel, their scent, the weight of their pages set one world's tomes apart from the other. At a glance, it might not seem obvious without knowing which authors existed where, but to his gaze, made familiar over the years, he needed no second guess.]
[The mirror on the wall stood in silence, its crystalline surface dotted with the white and pink and blue and orange of a thousand stars against a sea of darkness as he sat with the pages of the First's literature splayed over his lap. He paid the scene no need, set at ease merely to have the view there to behold if he wanted to turn his head and see it again, as if to reassure himself that it really was there, but words held his attention.]
[At least, until the knock at the door startled him from his preoccupation. Who could it be at this hour, he wondered? A soft sigh to release his tension and he set the book down on the stairs beside him, slipping a fold of blank paper between the pages to keep his place. Then he pushed himself slowly to his feet, prepared to greet his visitor.]
Enter.
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My apologies for any interruption, my lord. [For once, he seems to have not known her very presence almost before her knock announced it; she rather relishes the open surprise for a moment on his face, the way he looks without the cowl to cast his eyes in darkness. In return he might catch a brief fondness flashing across her features.]
I only came to ask if there is anything you need.
[As she has done often in the days since his return. Since he found himself “alone” again in his rooms of crystal - though none of his people would ever let him believe it if they knew.]
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[Until the one time it had become too much and he hadn't returned. How it concerned his Captain to have him hand over the key to his most private chambers, the one room in the entire Crystal Tower he forbid anyone but himself and those he invited to visit. After so long working so closely together for the good of their city, she must have known he saw something terrible in his very near future when he made the journey to Mt. Gulg alone if he'd passed that crucial item along. Looking her in the eye from beneath the hood was no easy feat, but they were going through the old, familiar motions. The habit made it easier.]
[But now they knew he could be felled. They knew he had his weaknesses; he was not invincible. Though he returned in triumph with a victory behind him, thanks in every part to the Warrior of Darkness and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, a part of him worried he had failed them as a leader, having kept his plans from his own people all this time. People who looked up to him, people whose very lives depended on the guidance he offered. His tattered robes and broken ornaments and wounds still healing, blemishes on what of his body remained flesh and blood though the blood itself had washed away in the long and arduous swim back to shore, stood as a tangible reminder of that fact.]
[The smile he offered her, clear as the night that shrouded the land beyond the confines of the Tower, reached his eyes, now visible with the cowl draped over his shoulders and down his back. He turned and retrieved the tome, held it in his hand - first up to her view, then there against his side as if she needed proof.]
I see. I thank you for your concern, but I assure you, my friend, I am well. [There is no need for the book now, though its familiar weight is a comfort to him.] 'Tis nothing but a long day's reading and a longer day of it still. There are only so many words one can take in in a day.
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By the gods, can that truly be possible? That the Exarch summoned them a savior from beyond, from the place he calls home, and they walked but one terrible path through the damnable Light, leaving darkness and peace in their wake? Yet the stars wink and glimmer above the Crystarium, Lakeland, all that remains of Norvrandt - maybe even the Empty - as a testament to how very real it is. In the morning, an unobjectionable sun will rise. She felt rain on her face for the first time in her entire life. Stood cold and still in the Exedra with her head turned upward, staring at the full bellies of clouds, only just managing not to let her mouth gape open while rain soaked through her uniform and threatened rust to her chakrams. And it was set in motion by all his hard work and the hands of those in whom he placed his trust.
-she'll ask if they could ferry a book or two from the homeland. No doubt the Exarch longs for something new to read.
Lyna shakes herself from the memory of rain and looks over the Exarch once, rather obviously tilting her head down and then up to take in the manner of him. He seems well enough. Not running himself ragged to the point she must go to Spagyrics for a restorative for him...at least.]
Have you...a moment to spare in your reading? [This is an unusual request coming from Lyna and it's apparent in the slight uncertainty in her voice.] For a walk?
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[It was a circle of checks and balances between them, a comforting routine and, by now, what made them friends when their roles slipped away from superior and Captain of the guard. He looked after her, and she looked after him.]
[The request comes as somewhat of a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. In fact, by the light shift of his ears, it is even a welcome change in his pace for the night. Having spent so many sleepless nights reviewing the pages of his library, much as he loved everything about it, it still wore on him. Her timing was impeccable, as always. The nature of her request though, in the tone in which it was delivered, spoke of something quite unlike his Captain, and he wondered at the reason behind it. In due time, he thought to himself. She would tell him when she was good and ready, and now that they had time to breathe, the wait would be worth it.]
Of course, Captain. Pray, allow me to put this away and I will join you anon.
[It took but a few moments for him to cross the room and pass through the threshold to his private chambers, across the room from the Umbilicus, and set his tome on the soft down bed that rarely saw any use. By now, it was covered in loose pages and books of its own, much like nearly every other surface in the room. That done, he vacated the space to return to Lyna and awaited her lead.]
Thank you. When you are ready.
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Then he is there, looking up at her with just that hint of friendly curiosity that for so long she knew only in his voice and not his features.]
Of course.
[It's a matter of a few steps and one gesture to hold open the door for him.]
As long as I am not disturbing your work. [Yet...she can't help a glance out that door, and up at the brilliant dark sky.] I...prefer walks in the clear night like this.
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[He waited there for her to come to his side before continuing on, managing a pace that with his shorter stride would be easy for her to keep up with.]
As do I. Long have I waited for the people of Norvrandt to look to the sky and view the stars in all of their glory once more. My work is more review now, less urgent while they yet shine overhead for all to see.
[And still the war went on, somewhere on the Source, where the Warrior fought. The battles for their dear friend seemed endless, one way or another, but he did hope that the man would return one day to find respite and know what remained of the First as a place of rest and sanctuary, if nothing else.]
How fares the goings of the Crystarium in my seclusion?
[Whatever it was she wished to talk about, what brought her to his door to pull him away and into the night, it certainly wasn't this, but it was as good an ice breaker as any. She seemed wary, by her anxious shifting when she had broached the question, and it was the last thing he wanted her to know around him.]
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[For this, she can spare one of her rare smiles. As long as she has lived here, as long as she's called the Crystarium home, its people have been able to climb to their feet and thrive no matter the hardship. Even with the enemy at their very gates, even when the blasted Light returned after the hope of darkness and all seemed lost. They put one foot in front of the other and pushed onward for the sake of their world and each other.
Lyna will always be proud to belong to such people.]
What a poor example of your dedication we would be if we could not hold the fort while you rested.
[She walks a pace behind him, as any well-trained guard would do. When people greet them as they pass, she is quick with warm replies and nods of acknowledgement - though few are about at this hour.
Yet his words about the stars remain in her thoughts.]
Even in the deepest part of the Rak'tika Greatwood, few remain who knew the stars before you brought them back.
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[It was not the end of their struggles and he wondered if ever there would be a time when they truly could want for nothing, wishful thinking though it was. But he kept his eyes forward in more than a literal sense as they strayed from the Tower and to the quiet of the central aetheryte crystal without intending to do so. It seemed as good a place as any to begin a round in the Crystarium. Perhaps the stairs to the walkways over the markets?]
It did not take one person to raise this city. I have every confidence in that our people will endure with or without my constant vigil.
[The comment had been intended in gentle jest, but there sat nestled in it a hint of consideration his thoughts touched on more than once in recent days, now that darkness had been rightfully returned. And, in truth, one he did not grant himself time enough to linger on.]
So there are. This world has suffered the loss of the night sky for nearly a century, as we all know only too well, but no more. 'Tis a precious gift her people and their children and their children's children and on down the line will know forever, as I have dreamed. As they have dreamed.
[A curious twinkle caught in his eyes as he turned to glance back at her, wondering. He knew her race tended toward a long life, longer than most races. Some individuals even remembered the stars and yet looked as though they were but adults by other race's standards, barely in the middle of their lives. By her reactions upon seeing the night again, he thought it might be the first time for her. Long though he had known her, whether or not she was new to the darkness was a mystery to him, as much as his own origins were shrouded to her.]
Your dreams as well, I can only imagine. Speaking of, how are your eyes adjusting to this? [By now, he thought she must be used to it, as most of the city was, but with the return of the night came an adjustment of circadian rhythms and sleep schedules with it. His own eyes, being what they were for his race, found the change difficult - not impossible, only an effort, one staved off by the lamps newly posted around the Crystarium.]
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No one will ever know how she felt when, some days after her first sighting of stars, the primordial Light came back. It is her intention to never tell a soul. The weight of it was crushing, the evidence writ large that somehow, somewhere, the not-so-covert efforts of the warriors from beyond had failed. That the danger could return.
Some days she forgets, and when she wakes to full sunlight, rushes to the window to make certain the sky is blue.
All of this she shakes away, for the Exarch has asked her a question.]
Well enough. If it is a slow adjustment it is no worse than any other.
[She was raised in the Crystarium, of course, but knows enough of the origin of the viis to know they favor the shadows beneath protective trees and old stone.]
Remembering to carry a lantern on night patrols proves more difficult.
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[But it was something he would forever welcome, when it meant the Source would survive, and what remained of the First still had a fighting chance.]
Good to hear. It will be second nature in time, hopefully time short enough that it hardly seems to pass at all. You must have seen some of the stars by now. I can only imagine what that must have been like.
[This, he had wanted for his people more than anything. The stars among the darkness well beyond their world. Places they had never been to, may yet never know, but in beauty beyond compare no less. How many nights had he spent beneath the leaves of the trees, looking up to those glistening spots in the sky, wondering whatever it was his youthful thoughts would? How long had he spent searching through tome after tome with little more than starlight to guide him? The wonders of the world could make one feel so small, so humble, but the glory of the universe beyond...]
[The First should know that at least once, he thought. Privately, that had been one of his wishes for his people, and he hoped they would know it.]