Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on May 7, 2016 4:25:34 GMT
The words were supposed to sting, but instead, they merely glanced off the thick hide that had become of Lasair’s skin. The words, at the very least, showed that he has regained his focus and Lasair could begin forming the spell, sapping energy from the other to intensify it. He spoke the words, the words of the old ander language, for he felt they held some sort of power, some secret way to ensure that the spell would be as strong as they wanted it to be, as they needed it to be.
And then the crouched down, reached out with their conjoined hand to touch the face of the sleeping boy. “Focus on the new memories we’re giving him, don’t forget the details. The thoughts, the feelings, the pain, the devotion, tie it all up in a bundle and pass it on to him.” And as the words left his lips, the leader too, felt pain and guilt hiding in his own heart, pain and guilt originating from words spoken in events so similar to this one only those, those he had created all on his own.
Ancient words different from the tribal chants that Savyahn had gotten so used to spilled from Lasair’s lips. The spell, it soothed Sayvahn, the energy, the mixing of magic, like a drug, a drug that the feline had gotten used to, had become addicted to. His breath hitched and, as Lasair bent down, so did he. Closing his eyes, Sayvahn focuse— focused on the thoughts, on the memories created, drawn and processed, in which he blurred his own face , casting his presence away once Castamere finished, putting instead an emptiness, a changed feeling, dulling emotions once had, and stressing others. Fight for Eiral. Be brave, be strong in Eiral. Fight from a person now gone, with blonde hair, who now, is but a memory. This would be Sayvahn’s final goodbye. Sayvahn’s final wish. And at least, with this, the older man could get what he wanted. Be happy, Corey. Be happy.
Tears flowed from the blonde’s eyes, and he opened them, looking to Lasair for strength— but once he did, he had to look away. He couldn’t linger on the redhead because if he stared at the fox, at the man he had been angry with not too long, he would want to kiss him. To beg for forgiveness, and to say, I’m sorry—I’m sorry I can’t be what you want but please, can’t we try?
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on May 7, 2016 4:49:53 GMT
It took a bit of time, a bit of effort. Corey’s mind didn’t want to accept the memories; minds never wanted to accept the magic of deceit. But a skilled cast with the right circumstances could over come that, as it did here. His mind faltered for only a moment, but it was long enough for the package to be delivered. And once it set into place, it only took seconds for it to be evaluated and accepted. The old memories were already being over ridden with each passing moment and as the boy slept, the mind would work over the new information and tailor it to best it in its new home.
As Lasair felt the acceptance, he released the breath he was holding, pulling away and standing up then. His grip on the feline’s hand relaxed, the deep green with hints of purple began fading as the aura did, and Lasair’s own invisible aura died down as well. The spell was cast, the deed done. Glancing towards Sayvahn, he looked for some kind of indication of what the man was feeling, some sort of sign as for what to do now.
Interlacing the new memories into Corey’s mind was difficult. But at least, Lasair could guide the memories, could lead them to the destined place. Sayvahn followed, helping to keep the spell stabilized, to keep it alive, like he had been training to do, every moment, his mind clearing, yet, the urge, that emotion, it still took hold, still lingered. Even more so as the general sighed, standing up, their hands, still intertwined. Sayvahn didn’t want to let go. At least, not yet. Not even as his aura filtered back, nestling deep under the pores of the barber’s skin.
The feline met Lasair’s gaze and held it, longing nestled in the emerald jewels as velvetten words crossed the blonde’s lip. “Can I ask one more favor, Lasair?” Sayvahn inquired, slowly getting up, body, still unsteady, still aching from Corey’s earlier actions. “Can you… close your eyes?” A step forward, hands, still locked, but Sayvahn’s other hand, it neared the fox’s face, fingers never touching— never getting too near, to ensure that the man would not be scared, would not run away. “I want… I want to forget him.” Sayvahn admitted, eyes lowered, voice, soft. “I want to forget the taste of him on my lips. His touch, on my skin. And most of all—“Enclosing the distance between them, Sayvahn paused, face, inches away as he inspected the man, looking for any sign of recognition, or denial. “I want to kiss you, Lasair.” Emerald orbs flickered between the golden ringlet on the redhead’s lips, to the cerulean orbs that glistened in the sun. “Are you willing to purify me?”
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on May 7, 2016 5:43:07 GMT
His eyes flickered downward, emotions of guilt threatening to show on his face. But he kept it still, kept it flat. Sayvahn didn’t need to know that they had kissed once before. A kiss that Lasair had stolen away from him.
He had already promised not to steal the second kiss. That would be much too cruel, even for his standards. But he had hoped he could have more time before the second one occurred. More time to think though and figure his feelings. It seemed lady luck wasn’t very kind to him at this moment.
Saying no wasn’t an option, not when Sayvahn asked it as that, not when those reasons were behind it. So he closed the distance the other had already shortened, pressing his lips gently onto the other’s, allowing him a moment to feel something he desired. Instead of him always feeling the demons crawling within.
During the kiss, Lasair’s heart sunk in his chest. This felt too familiar, too much like before. His hands, they were itching to cast another bout of deceit, to erase this moment too, but he balled his hands into fists and fought back the urge. He wouldn’t do it a second time. Not after the torment the first was still putting him through.
When they parted, his eyes fell to the ground, whispers of words leaving his lips. “I wouldn’t call it purification.” And then he turned and fled, away from the feline and away from the boy. He couldn’t take the pain growing within him, couldn’t take the feelings of déjà vu. So he ran, away from the source of his feelings, and in a way, away from the feelings themselves.
The kiss. It wasn’t what Sayvahn wanted. No. It was empty. Restrained. Forced. Because that is what Sayvahn had done, wasn’t it? Forced him into the kiss. But not like Corey had done. No, the barber had done something worse, had made Lasair choose, when there was choice at all. Sayvahn had told him to purify him— the only other option, to let him suffer. The thought, the realization, made Sayvahn’s insides coil and squirm, a snake, pulling through him to remind him, this is what you did. This is all your fault. Damien, he slept in the boy, yet Sayvahn could feel him, crawling back out, approaching him. “Die with me, Ineijwa, die with me.
But there was something else. Something else that coiled, that rose. Memories, flashes, of another kiss, of another time, on the rooftop, with similar pain, this snake, it was emanating from the wound on his side. The wound that Lasair had healed, the wound that kept reopening, that tinted a borrowed shirt red, that cooled when two sat on the rooftop, then, ached on the stairs, “Tonight was nice, thank you. But… Fall asleep now and remember it as only a dream.” Staggering, Sayvahn leaned against the wall, more memories, racing through him. Of another kiss, one welcomed, one instigating. Lasair had….and… then… used Deceit on him? The feline’s stomach churned, and he resisted the urge to throw up, realizing, steadily, that everything had been shaped by that drat spell. But, he couldn’t loom on that now, couldn’t linger on the guilt, on the anger, on the frustration. The older man had to run after Lasair. Had to catch up, and pray to whatever god was left that he could still amend the sins he made.
“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught." ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
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