studentalthea

[studentalthea]

[studentalthea]

Althea felt the corner of her mouth quirk, so confident - or perhaps no different than she. Ready to face the swelling tide of evil rather than be cowed by it. Althea knew why she could not run and without needing to ask there was the uncertain part of her that came to think that - just maybe - she understood why Sigtryggr was choosing to stay as well.

She felt the roughness of his hand as it closed around her own, and felt a stillness that Althea hadn't felt for years. Steady as the stone, certain as bedrock.

"Witchers can legally hold no lands, no titles," a beat, "no children or legacy." Althea had never cared for the smallest of the observations, "And neither can a Legionnaire: but we could have each other." Althea's hand was already in his, but for all the things she chose not to say, there were some that needed to be said. "You and... your sword will always have a place under my roof, around my fire, but I'll hold you to neither." Vulnerability - such a tricky thing.

"Assuming we both survive, of course."

"Good, hate for it to be boring." The Witcher looked at the walls, the way everyone moved around to attempt to fortify this place they called home. Many refugees hadn't left, close enough to Iskaldrik to find comfort and far enough away from Eterna to not feel like complete outsiders. Sig had attempted the same, but still, he was drawn back up at the thoughts of war, and the thought that he wouldn't see the woman beside him fight alone when he was certain he could show off how good he could fight.

Her touch was gentle, it was soft – it made Sigtryggr's chest do some weird little flip. Everything was tingling from his palm and up his arm, his hand reflexively tightening around Althea's. "And let you have all the fun?" He glanced at her now, "Cause I think I got the biggest sword around that will do the most fuckin' damage." The Witcher waited a few more moments, black smoke on the horizon, "You good?" An all encompassing question – he was no good at emotions, these were all relatively new for him, but with his eloquent way of speaking, he knew Althea would understand him. She seemingly always did.

[studentalthea]

You stand on the edge of a broken battlement of Caer Glas, high above a battlefield you cannot remember dying on. Corpses stretch to the horizon, all wearing the face of someone you failed. The darkspawn swarm silently through their ranks, not fighting, just watching.

Behind you, something vast shifts in the smoke. A serpentine figure as large as the keep itself, silver scales dulled by a veil of rot and the blight. It does not speak aloud, but the voice still comes as it wraps around the Tower that appears in front of you – your Tower – as more and more Olympians fall silently to their death.

“They still speak your name, you know. In the halls. Always with praise.” Olympians fall, you wait for the sound of their bodies to hit the ground, but the silence is somehow worse.

“But not when you’re near.” “They’ve seen what you’ve done. They know what you are.” Something inside the keep groans open behind you. A tunnel leading into blackness. It smells like blood and betrayal. “Shall I repeat what they whisper when the fire dies down? When you think you are loved?”

Please write a response to this and post it by June 16th on the dash and link it in the writing submissions channel.

Evidently, she was dreaming - how charming. Whatever creature conjured the particular vision seemed intent on feeding on the insecurities of a woman who didn’t rightfully exist. Perhaps before, before she’d taken the Joining, before she’d watched Aventia burn then rise again, before she stood at Aurea’s side. 

She was tied to the Blight now, dreaming of darkspawn was one of the lovely little side effects of consigning your life away. From Caer Glas Keep to the Tower it shifted, more danger, more threats, more intention but knowing that the Dark One had its claws in the Tower - or His eye upon it - didn’t come as a revelation. The Tower gossips could keep their opinions to themselves, Althea had already unburdened herself from the stasis of their status. 

Regardless of the rising tide, it changed Althea’s opinion very little: if something should threaten her sisters - Tower or elsewhere - then she would cut it down. Simple, clean. Intent on returning back to herself, she pulled on weaves of spirit - her mind was her own, not for the purview of the Dark. 

“No, demon: keep your opinions to yourself.” 

[studentalthea]

Two thick braids fell behind either shoulder - she'd rebraided her hair three times that morning as a means of prolonging stepping foot outside her lodgings.

Thora had traveled through space and time to save her, braved giants and worse to see Althea brought back to this age. Aurea needed her to be strong, Aradia was called elsewhere, and the Legion would call upon her soon. She was worried about her friend, scared for the future of her home, and ashamed that writing to the lords and ladies of the surrounding areas to enlist their aid was the most she could manage. The Tower was splitting apart and any sense of normalcy had evaporated months ago.

"Fairly, I'd say." Althea conceded with a sigh, taking a stand next to Sigtryggr, close enough to feel the warmth of his frame adjacent to hers. Some might have been surprised to see the witcher among the ranks of Haven's reinforcements, but Althea was not. "One more sword won't make a difference," she offered an out - just in case, but even as she did her fingers found the calloused interior of his palm, lacing their hands together, "it's not too late."

@studentalthea Location: Haven

The dark armor of the Legionnaire was far different than the robes he first met the Valkyrie in. Dark hair, pulled back for war, blended with the mood that seemed to permeate Haven as the Arishok marched his army closer and closer. The Witcher didn't fight under Haven's banner, but perhaps by proximity to the idea that this had been the first place that had taken them in. The refugees had nothing, and while he considered himself above and better, he wasn't going to spurn a place he owed a debt to.

Still, he brandished his blade, sheathing it after a moment when he finally found the desire to step up into Althea's view, "How fucked are we, Valkyrie?"

[studentalthea]

"The Queen's decision is -" Althea had dedicated several years of her life to appeasing the courts and playing the Game, Arethusa's decision didn't benefit anyone. She had banners scattered all across the countryside, voices she'd pledged to defend in exchange for their fealty. There would be noise coming from the Hall but she was too far removed by now to do much of anything about it besides press her ear to the ground. "I won't pretend to understand it, but I'm not without my contacts, whatever you decide, I'll be sure the rest of the court knows of your position." Word would fly to every corner of the world, rich and poor the world would learn from what the Queen and Alpha of Haven chose.

"Challenge the Arishok." Althea said, stepping forward - everything that Aurea described sounded like it would just bring about more fighting, more casualties, more death. "He declared your home for his own people without even looking you in the eye. He doesn't respect you - us - but Erik made that same mistake." Let him underestimate you went unsaid, but Althea kept her tone even as she folded her arms across her chest - well aware what she was asking her friend to do. The arishok was practically a mountain, far from and above Erik, but if these Kossith were as militant as they appeared, then the Arishok wouldn't ignore a challenge.

"This is what I fear. That even if we are safe by stepping by, that they will not stop. Maybe they'll leave Haven alone for now thinking that we're taking time to lick our wounds and continue, but I do think they will continue." It was part of what made doing what was best for her people so difficult. There was no guarentee the Kossith wouldn't come for them anyways after they'd done whatever the hell they thought they needed to do. "Arethusa will not offer aid. I can't let us get mowed down and made to partake in the Kossith's cruelty." "And it wouldn't be beating at all if not for you." Exhaling and looking into the witch's eyes, she can't help but hope. Hope that she's making the right decision, hope that her friends are still alive. "By extracting those that were taken, we'd have to board one of their ships, taking one of the guards might prove useful in finding a way to fight them, searching for any sort of plan while we're there." Maps had to be aboard that ship somewhere, they could find them, she wasn't a fan of torture, but she was pretty sure they could get someone to talk.

[studentalthea]

PRISCILLA QUINTANA and TOMMY MARTINEZ Good Trouble (Season 3)

[studentalthea]

Concede the region and let the Kossith take the western front. “You can’t be serious.” Althea said, craning her head slightly, “Your plan is…to give them what they want?” If she was incredulous it was only because she expected more; Althea wasn’t a wolf, but Haven was her home, and Aurea would always be her alpha. 

Something instinctive within Althea rose at the mention of the faiman’s name: she stepped forward, her back straightened - as if challenged and preparing to strike back after being put on the defensive. “That girl traveled through time and hell to save me, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.” But what, exactly? There was an uncharacteristic tick to Althea’s jaw before she deflated somewhat and retracted the metaphorical spines. She thought, albeit briefly, about the ongoing war between Astoria and Itzcoatal. “But she is made of a metal stronger than steel.” 

Another beat as Althea almost appeared to be holding back, chewing on something she wasn’t sure she should say. “Arishok Vassan is a warmonger and a criminal, Arethusa has made it clear she has no intention of standing up to him. What happens when Haven, like Aventia, ceases to be enough? When Erik wanted a war, what was your response? If we won’t stand against the Arishok, then who will?” She placed a hand on Aurea’s shoulder, “Haven may not be a place, but you will always be its heart.”

"The pack will go East where we will build New Haven, I already have people scouting the area." Setting wards, figuring the quickest routes, taking down maps of the terrain, her mind was set that Haven the place would be no more, at least not as it stood presently. It made being in any of the buildings, looking to any of the small cabins, the shop stalls, anything, incredibly difficult. But Aurea had meant it when she had told Leander that Haven was it's people, not a place. "And then I want to lead a party to retrieve those the Kossith took. We know where they're headed and an idea of where they will stop along the way. They have Thora, you can't tell me you don't want to go after her." She was more than ready to assemble what was left of her squad that'd gone into the Wildlands and a few more people to even them out. "Infiltration and extraction is the plan, how we do it is still....Somewhat up in the air." Lips pursed, she can't bring herself to be anything but brutally honest to Althea, she could sell a lot of people on a crackpot dream, but the witch wasn't one of them.

[studentalthea]

PRISCILLA QUINTANA via Instagram story

[studentalthea]

Always with the dramatics. 

Naturally, Althea would support Aurea’s decision. The fact of the matter was that Aurea was family and she would not run, even if it weren’t for the alpha, there was overwhelming evidence that it was the right thing to do. She was a legionnaire, yes, but this was an enemy that bloomed within the Blight to fight the Blight, in some ways not unlike herself - but the Legion of the Dead did not overthrow regimes, did not imprison children, and did not torture darkspawn for sport. 

The Arishok could make whatever claims he wished, the practices of sadists and warmongers could only be attributed to the Dark One. “Well, don’t leave me in suspense.” She glanced at Aurea’s hands as the wolf felt the need to place them upon Althea’s shoulders, the look was to say unhand me, but she never said the words out loud.

There is so much relief that comes with physically seeing Althea. Everything felt heavy since the news of the Kossith, and yet unlike when they'd gotten word of Aventia, this time Aurea was ready. Plans began forming immediately, she already had people scouting the eastern Wildlands, clearing away debris and setting up essentials. There's an extensive list of spells to look into that she'd compiled from her mother's own grimoires, new wards. Aurea's hands find Althea's shoulders gingerly, despite everything, her nails were indeed in tip top shape, with the witch being off on her own adventures, doing things for herself is what made her feel closer to her while she was away.

"We will fight them, but not in the way you think." It is somehow getting less and less crazy to say out loud as her idea became something more solid. "And in a way that will make you wonder if I have lost my mind."

[studentalthea]

@shewolfaurea location: Haven notes: kiss kiss

The fact that Althea couldn't bring herself to say "I told you so," when the Kossith began taking witches, the Student - and no one at the Tower - could say they were surprised. Telling the world that she was right wouldn't change the horror of their present reality, and wishing that things were different wouldn't change the road ahead. If Haven wanted the best general, they'd find one. They followed Aurea because she was one of them and if she could fight these creatures than so could they.

Naturally, Althea had been in Caer Glas Keep at the time but circumstances brought her home, brought her back to Haven. She'd taken this post as an escape, running from her own insecurities, emissary to an alpha who wanted nothing but blood. War. A small minded, but powerful fool. When Aurea challenged him the Student assumed that the young woman would be like those who'd come before her. Maybe it was that Aurea held a stubbornness that Althea had lacked back then, but she was the woman she was today because she'd watched Aurea beat Erik into the ground and took the throne for herself.

"You've toppled beasts before, we've battled the Blight and won. These cretins scratching at our walls are warmongers of the most savage kind. We will fight them because we must," a beat, "on your terms, not theirs." It wasn't quite hello, how are you? But it said a different message, one that Althea had relayed time and time again to her friend, her sister. I will never leave you.

[studentalthea]

PRISCILLA QUINTANA via Instagram

[studentalthea]

priscilla quintana via instagram

[studentalthea]

"They love to hate you." Althea mused, playfully.

"No... Not really." A truthful statement, she wasn't sure when it had happened. Slowly, perhaps. So many years Althea had been falling freely without any real direction beyond the ideals of upward mobility. "Growing up you hear about the Blight, monsters that spring up now and then, but it's always been... such a distant problem." Trivial, really. Darkspawn were a foreigner's disease and weren't something that she worried herself with in the Tower, or Eterna for that matter. "Seeing it with my own eyes: you can't stare down the gaze of true evil and not commit it's face to memory."

If asked a year ago if she'd ever joined the Legion, she'd have laughed and said no. If asked if she'd ever give her life for someone else, there'd have been another eruption of laughter. "In the moment I just did what felt right." What else could she have done?

"Where I go, she goes. Where she goes, I go. Unfortunately." A moment of silence before she asked, "Do you have any siblings - did you?" It was maybe offensive to ask, insensitive, but she couldn't deny that there was an urge to get to know the Iskaran better. To understand him, despite herself.

"Why wouldn't we be? Lysarans are fucking soft." Sig smiled, though it wasn't filled with much humor – he fully believed every word he said, anyway. But he also knew what they thought of Iskarans. Brutes, heathens, all things that were true. And the story written on this Witcher's skin had simply played into it all to make it true.

Not all children survived becoming Witchers, and not all Legionnaires ever survived the Joining. He hadn't known much about it until coming to this land, the Legion a necessary fixture in the North of Iskaldrik. "This always like you, then? Sacrificing for the greater good?" Emotions, so many of them, were unspoken in the very brief story that Althea posed. Goddesses, spiritual things, that he could understand. Sigtryggr paused when she twirled back, catching her and holding her still for a moment. He didn't understand her reasoning, couldn't – he was selfish. Like the wish that this moment would maybe last a little long, while remaining abundantly aware that it would most likely not be long for this world. Both poisoned in a way, but perhaps two things that shone in the night. "So it runs in the family."

[studentalthea]

"Enough." Althea stated, "The Queen is still grappling with the fact that she needs to find replacements for Aradia and I." More like a second sister than the city's monarch, Althea knew as well as most how difficult goodbyes could be.

Not to be deflected, Althea pressed further, "If left unchecked, it will kill you. Hollow you out for your power, your position, and your body. Instead of a legionnaire, you'll be a servant of whatever creature had that ring forged." She didn't mince her words, Riandur didn't and being upfront, direct, and honest was the least she could do as a sign of her respect. "It's bound to you now, no magic in Avalon or the Tower is strong enough to break it." More truth, more honesty.

"But Silas was a witcher before he joined the Legion, Amon Sûl will have centuries of records surrounding battling the Blight - the Old Gods - and perhaps, how to break that ring's enchantment." Althea had no vested interest in Riandur's safety, she hardly knew him beyond what she'd heard: murderer turned legion, turned refugee, turned leader. The rest of this order saw something in him, in times of war, that was enough. "Commander, respectfully, it's time to go South. We cannot delay further - the Last Battle is coming and we'll need you on our side."

Riandur's dreams had gotten worse and worse. A village, overrun with the Blight – an echoing memory of the one he'd grown up in – but an entirely different story than the one that had played out. He'd cut them all down himself, no one had moved to stop him, and in the end, he'd simply let himself glow, eyes the green of the dead, and raised them all to fight for him. Body after body, until everyone who died fulfilled a purpose.

That echo replayed in his mind now, silenced only by the footsteps of Althea. Rian's hand curled into a fist, and he turned to look at her. She was smart, a former Olympian, sharp of mind and wit – and hadn't been at the Keep often. But she'd been the first to seek him out, to understand what it meant. "Yes," he had no reason to lie, but still, there was so much that they didn't understand – it took effort to worry about himself. "Are you well in Haven?"

[studentalthea]

Visitors were not welcome within the Keep, the Legionnaires were secretive and that was intentional on their part. While Althea would have loved to run at the sound of Zeliha's voice, risking that the woman would follow her, and subsequently land herself in a cell, was far too likely. Whatever irritation Althea had felt toward the faiman following their last interaction had faded with enough time for the witch to put the regrettable things that were said in that temple behind her. She knew where she stood in her own measurement, that was all that mattered to her.

"Zeliha-" Althea greeted with a thin line of warmth within, "of course you did." She said simply, looking down at the basket that the healer had come swinging at her side with. She stood at the gate, and waved off one of the looming legionnaires that eyed the woman suspiciously.

Date: Latest plot developments Location: Caer Glas Keep Characters: @studentalthea & @zelihatheflight Notes: From #plot-call reacts <3

It was very hard to get information out of Caer Glas Keep, mostly due to the very low (if at all existent) Nightingale presence while the Legionnaires continued to build themselves up. And Zeliha was a very curious individual. That was one reason to visit, along with seeing how her friends had settled within the past few months. The faiman had not been able to visit them since they'd made The Calling and it had been weighing on her mind and heart persistently. It was worth the trip.

"Althea!" She called out, smiling wide as she saw the other woman peak out from a window. "Don't run away, I'm faster! I also have sweet treats!" Indeed, Zeliha seemed to be carrying a small basket with her as she stood outside the Keep. If she cared that a couple of Legionnaires had begun to stare as she yelled up at a window, she didn't show it.

[studentalthea]

They had their connection to the Blight, that the legionnaires had come to weaponize it was a good thing, but that did not negate the influence that it could hold over them. "I wonder if that's a new development - or an ability that they've always held." With nothing but time and confinement, it stood to reason that the Old God might have been practicing. Then again, there was still much lost and more secrets buried by the Legion of the Dead. "I don't want to say it's for the elves to handle but-" abandoning them to this fate went against everything, so she sighed, "so I won't. We'll need to find another way in." Preferably before any others were released - finding the final resting places of their predecessors that last felled the Old Gods was a priority. Lusacan was contained, but only for the moment.

"Heard him." Hakon looked down at the axe in his hand, hitting it into the stump to let it rest while he moved to pick up some mead. It had been centuries since he'd been back to Iskaldrik, let alone this close. The mead wasn't as strong, but it would do. "He was within the Legionnaire, Garahel. But something came over me. Like...the Calling, but...not for death." Hakon turned to look at the former Olympian, "To free him." And he'd felt the press against his psyche, a weakness he didn't want to acknowledge. How easily the old god could've taken over, and then the group would have had to turn onto him.