celayawitcher

[celayawitcher]

[celayawitcher]

"At least when your mind abandons you, your heart appears to remain true," stated as Araceli notes how the Kossith took blatant advantage of Aventia, though it hadn't been like the Kossith had offered any leeway when they had stormed the city and established their place within it. Araceli was standing before Celaya could process it and much like some bulked body guard, Celaya moves to stand in front of Araceli, a barrier between her and any attempt of straying to interrogate the Kossith left behind, "Might I suggest you sit this one out, perhaps observe or gather what they've already been granted from the Kossith thus far." Such information, Celaya believed, was scant and far in between but perhaps another day would offer Araceli more clarity to her sense of self.

A hum of consideration leaves her lips as she nods slowly, taking in the information with care. It’s a scrap of what has been taken from her. A name, a region, a city. Small puzzle pieces filling in empty blanks, yet not forming a full picture just yet. There are far too many holes in her memories, too many empty spots, and she worries that it will take far too much time and effort to fill them anew. Will she even be able to? Even if they leave the ship, even if they manage to survive… Will there be a solution to the emptiness within her head?

The question scares her, and she has to set it aside immediately, lest she spirals once more. Celaya is right that there is still work to be done. Escape is still possible, and sitting around waiting for death doesn’t strike her as something she would enjoy doing. 

“Ah, so they took advantage of those who were vulnerable and desperately looking for safety, then. How despicable,” she says with a sign and a shake of her head, unknowingly reproaching her past self for her own actions against Celaya. Moving to stand, she shrugs. “It might not be allowed in the end, or it might not even give us the answers we need, but at least this way I am trying, right?” 

[celayawitcher]

Celaya's shoulders were a touch heavy as they spoke to one another, though eyes edged with a sense of ferocity met Freydis' next, "The world has always been this dark, it's just becoming more obvious now, more bold." She did not believe it hadn't always been in hiding, shifting and trickling out slowly unto the world until it became too vast to ignore. Such darkness was even present within the witcher trials, how they were meant to be these bastions of light, but had been imbued with such cruelty as they slayed magic users that were hearkened as monsters.

Determination melded with such ferocity; Celaya was not proficient in planning nor scheming, but she'd had her ideas, none of which were savory for her wellbeing. "Just stand back and only interfere if I pass out," she didn't give Freydis a moment to process this, stepping forth as the antimagic swirled around her and the a'dam was held in front of her. Shadowy tendrils of this antimagic warped around her hand, encircling the a'dam and curling around her fingers as the point of contact seemed to meld and erupt with static tension. Celaya bit her tongue and through the agony of the jolt through her body she could still taste the iron tang of blood on her palate.

A fizzling crack that echoed in the stillness of the air was heard next, the magic from the barrier warping and expanding as tears rolled down Celaya's face and sweat creased across her brow. It seemed it would be a success, Celaya pushing forth against the resistance of the barrier, the a'dam melded with her magic this oppressive pinpoint that slowly pushed against what was keeping them within. It worked until it didn't; much like a rubber band pushed to the most taught point, the magic snapped back, the a'dam flung from her hands and Celaya dropped as the antimagic curled slowly back up her arm, seemingly disappearing into her chest while the witcher remained sprawled and crumpled on the ground.

It felt as if her joke had not landed, though this was hardly the time or the place for humor. She considered herself lucky Celaya didn’t outright scowl at her–that was good enough. Each of them must have so much anger in their systems that anything other than a display of aggression was welcome to Freydis. Wrath was best saved for any remaining stray Kossith. Freydis almost shrunk under Celaya’s comments on her sense of emotion. This was not the first time such a thing had been brought up, a voicing of an opinion that she was too much, things said that made her feel overly invested or clingy or meddlesome and unwanted, that her bleeding heart was an achilles heel rather than a virtue. But as Celaya continued to speak it became clear she meant this as praise. 

Freydis was no better at accepting compliments than she was at insults and she seemed suddenly sheepish. “All we have is each other,” she responded after a momentary pause, “whether on this vessel, or back in Iskaldrik, or Lysara. The world is becoming a darker place to live, and I think we lose sight of that sometimes—how vital it is to look after one another.” 

The pair of them stood idle for a few moments looking at their options, and Freydis was borderline entertained by the mental image she adopted of two children standing shoulder to shoulder, too scared to run up and knock on the door of some allegedly haunted house waiting for the other to be the brave one. That was what the a’dam felt like to her–a phantom presence, a haunting despite it being a mere piece of metal. Celaya had the heart of iron between the two of them it turned out. “How do you intend to test it?” she asked, knowing her sole ideal was to throw the wretched contraption. It probably would not result in any outcome except for the pair of them looking ridiculous.

[celayawitcher]

Celaya's head bowed; they had each other, yes, though as the years carried on, the alchemy in her veins would prove lethal. She wondered how much time she truly had. Celaya had spent so long within this realm wreaking havoc and causing cruelties, she was unsure if they could be undone in the scant amount of time she'd had left, but the most the witcher could do was try. Follow the oath of the celestial blood within, prove that being a witcher did not have to be so full of dread and despair. She momentarily squeezed Ingrid a little tighter, smiling sadly, "Yes, we'll have each other through this and through the next trouble that comes our way."

end.

“I have heard the same.” But blaming their woes on fate was unfair as the one thing they could control was how they reacted to fates cruelties. “At least we have eachother.” She wasn’t sure how far she could make it without Celaya, the other had become something of a support structure even though she was meant to be her squire. “You could be right Celaya, he could be out there watching us, protecting us. I could be wrong… I have been so before.” Celeya had proven her wrong she wouldn’t be surprised if the other proved her wrong het again.

[celayawitcher]

Celaya said nothing as Freydis teased further, the shieldmaiden was a good sport, even after the staggering amount of torture faced and inflicted. The witcher appreciated that she indeed had some sense of humor left, but still her heart felt heavy. The Fates continued to twist her intent into these sour and cruel things, Celaya's own resolve wore thin, and with the poisonous alchemy in her veins, she knew she did not have long to mend so many wrongs into rights. "You're rather in tune with your emotions," Freydis had described it all perfectly, and far more eloquently than Celaya ever could, "I have great envy for the way you carry yourself."

Celaya turned, walking over to what Freydis pointed out, the witcher overlooking both items carefully. "I wonder if the a'dam would be wiser," she was hesitant at first to pick it up, but time was running thin the more they lingered, and Celaya inevitably grasped the subjugating device within a closed fist. "Whatever technology or magic supports this, it could be relative to the barrier," she made her way back to Freydis' side, though her eyes looked upward at the invisible barrier that she knew was there despite the fact that Freydis' magic no longer made it visible to the eye.

“It is a bit flashy, isn’t it?” Freydis offered back, her poor sense of humor tempered. “So are the antlers.” Though she did not transform, far too anxious to risk it after all the misery Chalraith had bestowed upon those who Freydis cared for most. Freydis turned from Celaya as she uttered her apology, and it read to Freydis as entirely sincere and genuine. Celaya was no more in control as Nullakar as Freydis was when bent into Chalraith’s shape. Freydis would not want someone to hold it against her, and in her heart she did not hold resentment toward Celaya, but her base instincts still clung to the fear that had been conditioned into her when she saw the Witcher’s approach. “It will be right again in time,” Freydis said softly, still not facing her companion. “I don’t fear you, but my body still flinches, still forces me away… But after we make our way out of here, and with time…” She forced herself to glance sidelong at Celaya. “It will be right again. And I still think of you as my friend.” 

Freydis blinked, looking down at the blade. It would probably be wise to hold onto it, there were too many unknowns and too few assurances all of the Kossith were dead. She glanced around the deck near them and saw two options before them–a section of a steel beam that had once supported the weight of a now-collapsed deck overhead or a dented, discarded a’dam. “Well, what about one of those?”

[celayawitcher]

[celayawitcher]

Celaya sucked a breath through her own teeth as Freydis called out the transformation; the witcher was hardly in favor of the attention it garnered either, "It's an unfortunate side effect of the oath I've made." Celaya was insightful enough, however, to know when humor was masking some sense of discomfort, but she was hardly equipped with mending what was since broken; an apology would do nothing to salve what had cracked and fissured here. "For this past year, I've done a lot to try and prove I'm not the monster I've been painted as; but each day there is something within the world that continues to test that. Freydis, I am sorry," Celaya felt it useless, but she said it anyway, firm and driven by grief, she glanced over at Freydis.

She attempted, still, to focus on their objective, rolling her shoulders after a moments grace. "If you're worried my antimagic will destroy the weapon, we can look for something else. But I want to use it as a catalyst for disrupting the barrier via my magic."

Freydis had dropped her illusory magic. She was not sure if the spell scar contained an endless well of magic, or if it held limitations. Either way, she did not want to waste her energy and resolve–Celaya had seen her meaning, and the demonstration had done its purpose. A moment later, Celaya engaged her own magic, and despite her intention to remain collected Freydis could not help but flinch away from it in a mixed reaction from her memories of Nullakar and the novelty of seeing anti-magic engaged in such a manner. A moment later, as her heart calmed again, she made a poor attempt at humor to try to bring levity to their impossible situation. “Well, there’s no need to show off.” 

She sucked her teeth for a moment as she considered Celaya’s question. The fight for liberation had been bloody and rough, and many weapons that remained were chipped, shattered, or otherwise broken. “Very few. I have one,” she said, drawing the blade Adrian had crafted for her with his spell scar from the crude material she was able to recover in the insurrection. Other weapons were hard to come by–but plenty of makeshift materials were available. “I’m sure we could find something for you to wield though–bend steel, a broken blade.” She almost felt guilty not offering Celaya what she had.

[celayawitcher]

"Indeed it was the region," her tone was solemn, unsure of how to navigate this despite having lived it herself nearly a year to the date. "Though Aventia was the city, and though we fought for many weeks, we still failed." Celaya was certain she'd never seen as many darkspawn as those that had swarmed the city. Anger flooded her at the reminder, further fueled at the fact the Kossith had promised to expel said creatures of darkness, only to subjugate those they had promised 'freedom' of.

"It's how we're in this mess, really; the Kossith promised they would expel the darkspawn from your home, and while they may have succeeded in that, they continued to take and take." Celaya did not step up, even within her mind, as a leader of this liberated group. Eivor had instigated her, the dragon had planned for her rage to be the Kossith's unraveling, and it had succeeded. But when the dust settled and many were slain, she did not feel it correct, after everything she had done while under the influence of the a'dam, to step forward and take charge.

"Only few have interrogated them since, but it doesn't hurt to try everything." A mild suggestion, she didn't want to squash Araceli's hope to aid them.

“Those are wonderful words,” she offers, a smile quirking on her lips as she hears the passion belying Celaya’s words. Perhaps that is why she remembers the other and her name. She seems like the sort of person someone with a good head on her shoulders would trust, after all. She considers saying more, but she is quickly sidetracked by the metaphorical equivalent to a gut punch and a strike to the temple. She— Araceli is left bewildered, blinking rapidly at the woman before her, mouth opening and closing for a long moment. 

“Is that my name?” She asks quietly, vulnerable as she looks at Celaya with wide eyes, almost desperate to learn the truth about herself. She has bits and pieces of information, things that seem intuitive and things that don’t, but she hadn’t had her name. Not her name, nor the name of the city she remembers defending, remembers loving… Is Borderreach that city? It sounds right, but not quite. Close enough, but not it. “Is Borderreach the city we were defending against the darkspawn?”

She echoes Celaya’s laughter and then shrugs. 

“Well, I do hope there are a handful at the very least. I might not know myself, but I do know how to get information from people. I can do at least that much,” she comments, a bitter edge to her words as she shrugs, trying to dismiss her words as if they didn’t weigh her down. She has the vague notion that she was once proud of her ability, but now it’s hard. She knows what she can do, how far she can push and she hates it. “Do you think anyone with perceived authority would let me interrogate a surviving Kossith if there is any?”

[celayawitcher]

end.

Some sliver of darkness which still remained in her like a splinter clouded her expression at his question, "No," it was a loaded response, one she knew was not necessarily the correct answer when it came to her plight and how much she'd overcome, but she knew the Kossith went against everything she believed in and Celaya vowed to not let one have the satisfaction of surviving this night. "The Kossith will tell us nothing, it is useless to keep them here for empty information." She'd seen some subdued and kept alive, even barely, but Celaya would not stand for that.

[celayawitcher]

"I heard Fate leaves little leniency," Celaya wasn't sure what was to be a comfort for Ingrid currently; imagining what she may have been without him or noting that the inevitable was to always be tethered to Akanis. For a rare moment, Celaya smiled, a certain softness twinging the expression; it was eclipsed by the sadness in her eyes but still something worth noting. Sometimes she wondered if she had ruined everything the changeling had worked for, that perhaps he wouldn't have been there that fated day if she hadn't been adamant to go. It wouldn't change anything saying it aloud, tethering Ingrid to her grief and guilt, so Celaya said nothing, letting it eat away at her quietly. "If you're to leave me with one thing while we're stuck on this Kossathi ship, leave me with my beliefs. Just for now Ingrid."

“I wonder sometimes who I would have been if I hadn't been joined with him as a child. What kind of woman would I be?” Would she have been some farmer's wife? A soldier? A drunk at a tavern? Ingrid bowed her head in shame when Celaya called her out on her antics when they first meet. “I had a different outlook then. I saw you as someone who could only ruin what we had worked for. I was wrong.” Even admitting she was wrong was a sign of the woman's changing view. It could have been anything that had saved Celaya, Ingrid didn’t share her faith that it was Akanis that had helped her in that moment, after all he was just a man despite how old his soul was. “It could have been anything Celaya, its not possible for a soul to help us from the other side.”

[celayawitcher]

"Even if your mind does not remember, your spirit should feel that call," perhaps it was a touch dramatic even for Celaya, but when she'd awoken as an empty husk of what she'd once been, the witcher had chased that duty and task since. Her body had been restless, fighting for truths she may never get, but finding some comfort when duty was finally retained. "You killed for these people once before, bled for them. Lady Araceli of Borderreach, this will not be your end."

Her resentment was a cold chip on her shoulder, but one which was easily melted in face of the familiarity of Araceli's current predicament. A mind grasping desperately onto puzzle piece she could not decipher, a heart panicking at what they knew within their core; Celaya silently vowed not to let Araceli stumble blindly in the dark. Her end would not be this shallow, empty thing who faced death on an imploding ship.

They would escape this, she would escape this. "I'm not sure how many Kossith live still, so your wish may be a preemptive yearning." Her lip curled, meant to be some representation of a smile but it likely looked odd on her normally stern countenance. "Some believe they have more authority than others."

An incredulous laugh escapes her, even as there is no joy sitting within her. There is just emptiness, just as how she feels as she tries to remember what her home is. There is nothing but a blank space where she knows the affection would be, nothing but a big question mark. It’s frustrating, to hit with the wall again and again, while realizing that she had been the one to put herself in that position. She had been ordered, she had been unable to do anything to obey, she knows, she remembers, but she still fell prey to herself in the end. The weapon she has crafted and held with care for the entirety of her life, turned against herself, a blade aimed at where it hurt her the most. 

It would be easy to fall into despair, but for all that she had been wallowing on it up until this woman— Until Celaya, had come up to her. Once given the choice to act, there is something within her that rebels at the idea of wasting away on the goddamn ship. 

“Hard to fight for a home that I do not remember very well,” she admits, head falling back as she looks away from Celaya, something within her feeling something dangerously close to guilt for a reason that she almost remembers but cannot quite recall. “But I do want to outlive the fuckers that brought us here, at the very least.”

Looking back down at Celaya, she raises a brow. 

“I somehow doubt we will ever fall as far as they have, but I do see your point.” She runs a hand down her face, and takes a deep breath. “Working together it’s our best hope, yes. I haven’t been paying much attention, though. Has anyone taken charge?”

[celayawitcher]

Whatever Nullakar had done, had been crafted by Celaya's hands but neither her mind nor heart had been present in the matter. Her mind refused to commit these cruelties to a tangible memory; Freydis, Alessia, Fharzai, Sylvie - she knew their true names, understood the damage inflicted by her hand, but the witcher strove to remain impassive until the battle was won. They'd been granted freedom, one small, nearly intangible sliver of it; such sentiment only twisted the rage further within her, this caustic wound which ached.

The antimagic within her had felt different since she'd pledged herself in that temple; no longer an omen but a promise, and Celaya leapt at the opportunity to master it with her own autonomy in tact. The handprint burned first, this surge of light on her chest that burst into a vision of dark wings unfurling around her and an antimagic crown hovering above her head. The burst of magic within her was momentarily blinding, this surging expanse of voidlight that simmered quietly after a moment. Part of her wondered if it'd be too distracting for even Freydis to concentrate, but she'd not do this without the shieldmaiden's aid.

"Are there any weapons the Kossith left behind?"

“I will not accept another alternative,” Freydis responded stiffly, still unable to face Celaya directly. If she glanced at her sidelong, it was with hesitancy. Or was it with the new trained, reflective expectation to be struck? Regardless, Freydis would accept no room in her heart or head for an outcome other than success and survival–to leave room for doubt would open her mind and actions to room to falter. The stakes were too high. 

Freydis was also unfamiliar with Torsten’s movements about the ship. But she would help Celaya find him if they felt it would benefit them. But Freydis would also try to provide what help she could in the interim. A firm nod was given at Celaya’s idea–Freydis would lend the whole of herself, every modicum of energy she had, every drop of magic in her body and spell scar. “What do you need me to do?” she asked. “The only idea I have is to try and listen to the magic, to sense where the barrier is,” she explained as she lifted her hands in front of her. Between them, a glimmering sort of fabric appeared, not dissimilar to the auroras that had colored the sky above the ship on clear nights. “And show it to you like this.” It was not much, but it was a starting point. 

[celayawitcher]

Some sliver of darkness which still remained in her like a splinter clouded her expression at his question, "No," it was a loaded response, one she knew was not necessarily the correct answer when it came to her plight and how much she'd overcome, but she knew the Kossith went against everything she believed in and Celaya vowed to not let one have the satisfaction of surviving this night. "The Kossith will tell us nothing, it is useless to keep them here for empty information." She'd seen some subdued and kept alive, even barely, but Celaya would not stand for that.

"Yes, wasn't that obvious?" The dragon was still smiling, or – some version of a smile. He was trying to look approachable. That was a must if he wasn't going to choke out an actual apology. "We win. In the end we always will." Eivor tilted his head now, looking at the Witcher with a newfound curiosity. He wanted to know her thoughts, if she had any, around what predicament they were in now. "Have you had your fill of retribution?"

[celayawitcher]

starter for @jovethebarbarian.

where: me thinks we're in the water

when: current timeline, though i think set before he sees freydat?

note: these two and boats/water is clearly a cursed mix

Celaya was certain her newest resolution would to not go near a boat nor the sea ever again if she was to get out of this. A wound spilled blood down the side of her face, her lifeforce mixing with the brine of the sea around her as she immediately began to try and swim. The blast had displaced everyone, some bodies floated helplessly around her, lost causes from the blast, while others could be discerned through far away screams which sounded through the open sea.

The water around her looked more like a graveyard than any sliver of hope, but the witcher nearly scowled at a familiar face looking worse for wear within the depths of the water. "Dammit," she swam over after she noticed the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the werewolf half positioned on a piece of torn metal that barely held him above the depths of the ocean.

Celaya tore at the fabric of her shirt, wading it in a ball and floating in the water near Jove as she applied pressure to a wound near his chest, "Wake up, wake up," she hissed in a bout of impatient nerves, figuring if he didn't rouse soon he'd surely sink to the bottom of the sea like a damned brick.

[celayawitcher]

"We know Akanis is anything but ordinary," she smiled lightly, a rare expression for Celaya, but she thought fondly of Akanis and what he taught her within the short time she knew him. "He never judged me - that I knew of - unlike someone," her brow raised then; when speaking to Ingrid, albeit mournfully, she almost forgot the true danger of their current circumstances. A witcher was bound to the truth, and Celaya was insistent on this, it was indeed her truth, and she hoped Ingrid would venture to believe in it too, "He shielded me from the relentless storms when I became shipwrecked on Progress Day; if things look bleak, he will help us, Ingrid." She'd never believed in much of anything but she'd learned a lot about spirits and the power of a soul - her own was tied to the Red Hand, her blood tethered to the aasimar. Even if they could not see him, his presence weighed heavily on her, a light in the bleak dark.

“I think you can. Our societies would have had us opposed to each other. And yet you two found ground to walk on.” Ingrid wasn’t going to pretend that she would have given Celaya the time of day. She wouldn’t have, she would have curled her nose up at the other and not looked deeper than what Celaya was. “You say that with a lot of confidence.” Confidence that Ingrid didn’t have. It would feel odd for her to call to him in such a manner, he was the closest thing she would ever have to a brother. “If you ask me I think he likes supporting stubborn women.” She spoke the words with a half smile at the thought of how he seemed to pick em.

[celayawitcher]

"I'm worried that the barrier holds no value to their lives," it seemed many of the Kossith had been rather content with the prospect of death as opposed to dismantling the barrier for them. Pride was stronger than even the will to live; at least that seemed true for the Kossith, and Celaya tried not to curl her lip the more she thought of them. "They're dead whether it's lifted or not, Fate has already tied their hands."

"That." Jamie flicks a thumb towards the barrier, his eyes narrowed for just a second, as if he could pierce it with his gaze. If the boot was on the other foot, he wouldn't have explained how to get out to any of them either. The moment any of the Kossith talked, they'd be killed, if not by his hands, surely someone else's. "Cannae blame them fer trying tae stay alive when the lot of us want them dead." Actually he could and he did, but that was neither here nor there.

[celayawitcher]

I know in my heart if I keep working and believing in myself, my time will come, and if it never manifests in the physical way I want it to, the person I became on this journey is enough reward regardless. I know I went out there and gave it my all every day and that is something I am proud of immensely.