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Author Topic: Let the wind carry you home  (Read 89 times)

Description: 191, Late Autumn: Solace pulls Thorn from the depths of her mind. Attn: Thorn

Offline Solace Tanithil

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Let the wind carry you home
« on: Jun 28, 17, 12:18:59 AM »

Locale: 191, Late Autumn, Private Room, Black Castle Infirmary.
This thread runs concurrent with Until the Hasting Day has Run.


Lady Solace froze in place, the subtle tang of something not right flickering on the edges of her vision. That dark vision, the cloaking beauty of moonlight and the power of her Jewels, were the only light allowed in her work room. Slowly, a scent came to her, vanilla and dusk roses, pain and passion, a breath of rubies and the Darkness itself. Carefully, Solace held up her right hand, upon which glimmering Shards of Sapphire and Red Jewels were set in an exquisite platinum ring.

The Black Widow let her senses drift into the dual Shards, as a slow, sweet smile curved lips unused to the expression. For those shards held the promise of redemption, and the fullness of love. Thorn’s passion wrapped Darkness and Valor’s blood, metal and sandalwood filled her mind, her heart, her vision. Delicately she stepped through the visions, her hands deftly weaving a Tangled Web, drips of her blood like pools of life; one for each of the souls caught up in the night’s work. A flickering, wounded soul like a summer’s day, shadowed by a grey mist of power and regret. Valor’s twinned flames of blood and duty, Rose’s passionate call to battle, and the velvet wrapped steel Solace’s visions always assigned to Flair. The patterns carried the thrumming passion and broken pain of the Lady Charisma, woven through them all. As if the tiny Queen needed each and everyone of them to survive the coming storm.

A bitter taint hovered over the Queen, with a focused and intent purpose that suggested the danger would not be past, even if all involved survived to see the dawn. Solace had not yet teased out if it was a spiritual, mental, or physical taint that threatened the Queen, when the faint, three-toned chime of her work room rang. Craft Enhanced, the ringing sound grounded Solace. It’s beauty was a gift, long ago, from her daughter and that painful joy rarely failed to work its magic and summon her spirit back to her body.

Solace stretched, the feline gesture utterly satisfying. A brush of fingers through her hair, and a few careful steps to make certain her limbs remembered how to move. The chime sounded again, indicating a deep urgency; the household custom was to give her up to an hour to return to them, once summoned. Tension coiled through her, as it rang no less than a third time in as many minutes. Solace pulled a silken robe over her naked body and answered the door.

* *

Mere minutes later, Lady-and-Captain Solace strode purposefully through the halls of the Black Castle, her uncut Tiger Eye gleaming at her throat, the cut Purple Dusk at the end of the long V of her robes. A flurry of Psychic Threads while she had dressed allowed her instant access to the Lady Rose Zalishevin.

For a few moments, she let her senses run over and around Rose. The room itself all but stank of Dark Power, and shattered drawers and scattered vials bore witness to the random waves of power that rippled through the room. Yet Thorn did not truly attack; neither unwelcome Black Widow nor outmatched Healer were truly damaged. Solace waved them out of the room, but did not force her way inside. She waited, patiently, until the pattern and sense of Thorn’s defenses flickered uneasily at the edge of her senses. Only then, did she quietly move forward, each step and gesture part of the half-sensed pattern.

Solace reached her precious daughter-in-law to be, and rested her pale hand upon the sweat drenched forehead of the Red Widow. That hand held the twinned shards of Rose’s Jewel and Valor’s. Unlike the younger Tiger Eye Black Widow, Solace did not force her way into Thorn’s mind. She waited, patiently, to be drawn to Lady Rose’s need through the natural ebb and flower of power. Poised, only able to fully sense Thorn’s defenses through the Shard she was attuned to, she that most difficult of things. She waitled. While she did so, Solace let her presence wrap around Thorn’s, a fierce and protective mantle ready to rend and tear in her defense.

“I am here, little one. You do not face this alone. Will you show me your pain?”


Offline Thorn Zalishevin

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Re: Let the wind carry you home
« Reply #1 on: Nov 06, 17, 10:02:35 PM »
If there was one woman in existence other than a sibling, or her mother, or perhaps even the Queen of Dea al Mon that could break through Thorn's mind without becoming a flattened once-living pancake against a wall from her power, it was Solace Tanithil. Though there was a piece of Thorn aware that her beloved, Valor, was out in the inclement weather trying to locate her Queen-sister before she died or worse and easily more than understood that the loss of any of their precious Queens would surely cause even some minor fallout. There was that sense at the surface of the thoughts that trapped the Court Seer, that even she was very fallible and sometimes, needed a helping hand. As such, the hand that Solace, Valor's mother, laid to the sweated forehead did not call forth a storm of Red Jewelled rage, but silenced it, at least for now. There was a sense of eerie quiet, much the way the center portion of a storm felt that had not worn out its power.

Several items that had been suspended in the air upon Solace's entrance returned themselves to the places they belonged; more clue of that piece of the younger Black Widow's personality that she did not enjoy unnecessary mess. Her breathing steadied just enough for the clarity and sense of those pieces of Solace's children's Jewels in match to the one she had given to her eventual mother-by-marriage. It allowed a vision of the insides of Thorn's psyche, and her mind as to where she'd put herself.

It wasn't good.

In fact, it was worse than at least a few people in her life would have been able to stand; that a woman so skilled not only in tutelage of others would leave her own inner self without care and maintenance. Three webs held together her chalice, but only just, while a deep crack was only apparent with one that would have been very skilled with what a Widow's mind was supposed to look like. The only reason indeed, that the young woman hadn't lost herself in full to grief and pain was the effects of others upon her ability to reason. Each person that she had met and allowed a deepened place in her life, her memories of them was why she was as whole as she was. The first, unsurprisingly being Solace's son. There were hints and tiny bits of his presence all through points that had become more stable through the strength of care and love alone.

There was an entire section that was deeply broken and misused; that innate piece of a Widow's gifts turned toward Compulsions; it would need to be fully rebuilt. This plainly was well deeper than a mere fear, but part of the young woman from a very early age, and predated where her seat of power shifted from Birthright to Offering. It had far less to do with Jewel Strength, and more to do with the intricacies of knitting one of the Blood back together in a mental sense.

The greatest irony perhaps, was a clue in the reasoning behind Thorn's shift in personality only somewhat proving a regression balanced by the most seemingly unbalanced person one could choose as unexpected healer of a mind in the form of a certain older and virile Warlord Prince, but the proof and truth of this segment holding Thorn's inner self into the closest one could arrive upon a healthy shape shimmered out of view as quickly as Solace would have been able to discover what it meant as a twinge of embarrassment fluttered forth, then back. It was certainly fair that the Seer would have not enjoyed Solace knowing the identity of said personage. Nor did she want Blade to know how precisely poor and far his tutor's mind had fallen.

Though she did not fully wake, Thorn's hand brushed Solace's, settled with care upon the sapphire sliver belonging to Valor. She also did not want him to know, for it would do nothing save distract.  If the former Captain had been looking for permission to do only what she could do best through the patience that most of her Caste had never gained in their studied, she'd just received it. As for Thorn herself, the fullness of her mind floated just out of reach of all of the damage, aware what she'd managed to do to herself by accident, and the unfortunate shredding of Charisma's repairs.

"Mother ... stay silent."

It was a faint, terribly delicate whisper from the wildest part of Thorn's mind, while the Red shard in Solace's possession burned as bright as she'd likely ever seen it. Now would be the the best time, if she were to live and truly be whole. There would be other moments, that those closest to her could know that they had by chance, had part in saving her Life, Mind, and Jewels due to just how violently the healing efforts of her sister Charisma had been ripped away.

"Help me, please."
"Do they not bleed from the bite of a Thorn?"

Offline Solace Tanithil

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Re: Let the wind carry you home
« Reply #2 on: Nov 11, 17, 11:35:25 PM »

Locale: 191, Late Autumn, Private Room, Black Castle Infirmary.
This thread runs concurrent with Until the Hasting Day has Run.


*Mother*

That single word focused Solace as none other could. Without hesitation, without the vast reserve she was so known for, Solace plunged into the maelstrom after Thorn.

Power surged; tendrils of the past and future spun in a kaleidoscope around Solace, luring her attention away from the tortured young woman before her. For no more than a heart-beat in time, the vast tide of Red power calmed. Solace lived in that sacred moment. Her intense training, perceptions and focus stretched that moment to infinity. All possibilities called to her, and Solace needed those possibilities. She snapped instantly from utter, serene stillness to deadly purpose with the same precision and speed of the deadly predators her Caste was named for.

No one could Heal something that was missing entirely; that was accepted as fact. So to restore what had never grown within the young Rose required not merely Mind Healing, but the unfettered madness of the Twisted Kingdom. Only there, could Solace find an echo of what-never-was and use her Craft to create a new is. Solace fought a desperate battle to pierce the madness of the Twisted Kingdom, while keeping her attention narrowed to the rents and tears within Thorn’s battered and abused Chalice.

Visions seared her Inner sight, blinded the outer; each possibility screamed through Solace’s senses, demanding release from might be to is. And if she released the wrong one, they would both die. A dangerous dance, shunned by most Black Widows, but Solace embraced the wildness, the risk. Pain lanced through her but only sharpened her focus; she would know, when the right should-have-been appeared before her. An invisible wind tore through the room, Solace’s silver hair uncoiled and streamed around her, a living thing. Power, irresistible and finely honed, flooded her body with passion and need.

The universe was within her reach, anything at all possible. Frenetic joy and a desperate longing filled her; one step, and she would be free of the shackles and pains of her life, to dwell in the glory of this power forever. Only iron will kept her focused on Thorn, and the precise knowledge she sought.

There! A single, burning instant that showed Thorn’s Chalice whole and stable. Possible, because Solace’s will that Thorn be whole made a future, Healed and healthy Thorn possible. Which meant that the Twisted Kingdom suddenly held a reflection of the future, which could be used to mend the present, as if the past had never happened.

With the consummate skill of a surgeon, and all the passion of an ardent lover, Solace stole power and purpose from the Visions which danced before her. She wove the should have been she had found into the now. She didn’t so much rebuild the gaping hole in Thorn Zalishevin’s Chalice as find echoes of what Thorn would have been, without such damage, and imprint that knowledge upon her Chalice. A map, a tracery of the ideal. She created a pattern that was native to the young Rose, before her vast, devastating wound and yet part and parcel of Thorn-in-the-now.

Elegant, pale hands wove gossamer spider silk, blood, power stolen from her own Jewels, as well as the Shards she bore, into intricate and flawless Widow’s Webs. Solace anchored them within Thorn’s mind, some strengthening the love and devotion that kept Thorn sane, some laying in a groundwork of Healing that did not rely upon other’s approval. Between one heartbeat and another, a multitude of Visions erupted around her. Pathways through the Twisted Kingdom appeared, very real; her spirit could embark upon each one, and solve a hurt or riddle of her own life.

But no; Solace remained steadfast. She dismissed these temptations, striving instead to  learn which of Thorn’s cornerstones of personality should be strengthened, and which weakened.

A second heartbeat, and the way to win her two estranged daughter’s love was offered. A scream of denial tore from Solace, along with a bitter refusal to yield. Focus and discipline allowed her to push on. On, and on ... at last the Twisted Kingdom showed her how to lay the foundation of Healing in the deep, deadly fissure within Thorn’s Chalice, without shattering it entirely.

Sweat poured over Solace, traced her curving breasts and slender waist. Heat-friction seared through the room as Solace danced with destruction, pulling too many realities into one place. Complete focus, perfected over the decades of her life, allowed her to ride the very edge of destruction. And while chaos roiled around her, elegant hands wove power, spider silk and hope into webs so gossamer fine they could settle within a soul, and lay the foundations to Heal a Chalice.

But she did not weave blindly. Restoring sanity, without warping the person, was never easy. And there was no time, in the current crisis, to discover the answers slowly. At any moment, Charisma could either die, or be turned. Or Valor could die. That final sundering, without other supports, would shatter what remained of Thorn.

And so Solace risked sanity, Jewels and life to pull hope from grief.

Now, her frantic pace could slow. She restored the barriers in her mind, that veiled the Twisted Kingdom from her. The pattern was made; the whole was known, if not yet achieved. Damage this bitter, to what could only have been a tiny child, would not be Healed in one session.

Or even ten.

But it would be Healed, mind and body, eventually. And Solace wove that promise and certainty into every Widow’s Web she used to shore up the battered Chalice of her soon-to-be daughter. Sweet, gentle touches that would not hide her work from Thorn, but reassure Thorn each time she came across the hidden traps in her psyche.

Slowly, her breathing eased. Solace’s gaze opened upon the physical world at last. She gently stroked Thorn’s forehead. *What I know, daughter, is between you and I. But be wary, dear one; Warlord Princes know things about our Caste that other’s can never truly understand. That understanding gives them a vast capacity to do harm.*

 

 

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