Yet the Soul Obeys

The sun is beginning to wester over Alexandria, and the breezes have cooled from their daily height. Most people are packing up, grooming horses, cleaning the field, picking up arrows, weapons, armor, and beginning to make for the exits, but there's one person still hard at work on the pells, with a weighted practice blade and a weighted vest meant to simulate armor in its placement, but much, much heavier. Seldan looks like death warmed over, more ashen than alabaster in his paleness, with dark circles under his eyes, and if one could not clearly see the wooden pell, one might fairly think him fighting demons, not inanimate objects, judging by his twisted mask of fury as he runs through complex drills.

There is another person still practicing as the shadows start to grow. She is a direct contrast to Seldan, looking happier than she has in a long time. Cryosanthia has made good on her intention to resume her athletics and acrobatics regimen, as well as put in some swordwork. Sith-makar do not sweat to cool, but she's worked out enough that festival dust have covered her scales and clothes. This does little to dampen her spirits, which shine through. As the light changes colour, her white scales and uniform take on lovely sunset hues. The seeming boundless, bouncy energy she's had since meeting the little gold dragon do have their limits, and the palescale has finally gotten to them.

She was aware of Seldan, he's been here since she arrived and that was early. Cryo left him to his workout, Zeke was cagey and smelt strange when she asked about the Silverguard, and other topics, so she decided to let them lie. For a little bit, but now it's time to check on him. She heads his way, approaching cautiously and says, "Peace on your Scabbard, Seldan."

In fact, Seldan has been here pretty much all day, with only minimal breaks to rest. She has only seen him eat once, and that not much and not for long. He is drenched in sweat, and seems to have finally tired himself out as well. Indeed, he breaks the drill when she speaks, jumping nearly out of his skin, and whirls around, staggering back a step until he is leaning against the solid wooden post. "Cryosanthia, Her light on you." The voice is ragged, and he blinks a few times. "You have had a good workout?"

Malik is, of course, not that far away. It seems that he left the paladin long enough to go get something that could be considered dinner, coming back and setting it on one of the simple wooden benches that line the practice area. He gives Cryosanthia a nod, offering a small smile, though most of his attention is focused Seldan's way -- a faint trace of worry there, easy to see. "You should take a moment," he calls over, quietly. "I think the wooden man has learned his lesson for now. He will repent and lead a righteous life."

"Yes, this one has." The palescale nods, to Seldan and a second time to Malik. She grins at his comment, "Oh yeah, he's totally reformed. You've made him a church-goer."

She stands there carefully. Instead of the layered wizard robes she's been wearing of late, her clothing is more of a long shirt with short sleeves that hangs over a kilt which has a sleeve for her tail and hangs to her knees. Cryo wobbles her head through an arc as she examines Seldan, "I needed to get some work in, I was laid up too long with the plague and got a bit blunted."

A ghost of a laugh flits around Seldan's lips and peeks through exhausted eyes. "Why did you say nothing, Malik, I might do the same for you." He does not bother to straighten. "Well do I understand you, I was laid up for ... a few weeks, I think." He pushes that lock of hair, now dusty and dirty and sweaty, out of his eyes, not incidentally rubbing at them. "It was quite the job to work back into fighting trim."

"Because that worked out so well for you last time we were in this arena together," Malik teases, though he seems rather confused for a moment, raising an eyebrow. "I ... think that perhaps you've over-exerted yourself," he continues, picking up the food and moving over to the training dummy where the other two are, rather than making them come to him. Looking to Cryosanthia, he offers apologetically, "I'm afraid that I'm not sure what the sith-makar prefer, though you're welcome to whatever suits you."

GAME: Malik rolls Perception: (3)+20: 23
GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (9)+5: 14
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls perception: (13)+5: 18

"Food that doesn't require a lot of chewing, usually meats or fruits. Bread is fine but I break it into small pieces." Cryo grins a little, her mouth open. She has lots of sharp teeth, none suitable for grinding. She looks over the offered food for something easily shredded and swallowed. "Sauces are nice, fun for licking."

The sith makes a quick, 'wash down' ritual that sets her gloves glowing. The dust is gone. Seldan gets a few more concerned glances, although looking at Malik doesn't appear to satisfy her curiosity much. "Thanks for the food. We've never really talked much, this one apologizes. I suspect I've spoke with Seldan's sword more; I know you're ..."

She's about to say something further, then cuts herself off. "I should remind, sometimes my Mistress listens."

With an effort, Seldan straightens up and half-raises a hand, like he intends to do the same, then shakes his head wearily. "Reunion is not with me, though I would hear what they have to say to Her. Fallia, I fear, is quite right about Kanian's manners." He reaches to accept with both sweaty, dirty hands the food offered, a thing he would normally not do without cleaning himself first.

Malik nods, seeming to relax a moment. He moves a few containers around, finding the one he's looking for. "Spiced chunks of breaded chicken. A lovely sauce, easy to tear, and don't require much chew..." The wizard's voice trails off, the bowl falling from his hand and all over everything else, a horrid mess. But Malik doesn't seem to notice. Something caught the man's attention, his face going pale as his eyes widen, a storm of emotions playing over his face. Confusion. Trepidation. All of which can be summed up in a single, wary word.

"...Carissa?"

It doesn't take much to look in the same direction as Malik. To turn and look behind Seldan to where a woman is sitting in the stands. She's not a young woman, but the similarites between her and Seldan are striking to say the least. She could be his sister if not for her age. Hair a touch more blonde than his ginger-blonde. Features more feminine yes, but they're clearly related. The sound of the name draws her to her feet as if she could have sat there forever waiting to be noticed and been happy with that. She moves toward you and you notice no evidence of sickness in her. No darkness around her eyes, no effort to her breathing. Just a woman, happy to see someone - happy to see Seldan.

Cryosanthia is clearly interested in the chicken, reaching for it, when Malik drops the bowl. Server instincts take over and she drops to catch it, but only goes half-way as she turns to see 'Carissa', who startled him. Slowly, she stands, looking at Seldan, then at the woman.

"Is... that Seldan's sister?" Recognizing that they're related is an accomplishment for her, considering the species difference. Gauging age might be too far.

Except... Seldan has only a brother...? Cryo is more confused.

Seldan clarifies Cryosanthia's confusion quickly, the food and everything else forgotten. "Mother! Mother, how did you come to be here?" The full run that the Elunan would normally have taken off at towards the stands is hampered somewhat by physical exhaustion, but the practice sword thumps unheeded to the dirt as he fairly bolts for the stands.

Malik watches as Seldan gets up, practically rushing to the stands. "Seldan, wait!" he calls, though with no real conviction in his voice. The man knows full well the attempt is futile even before he begins it. He rises slowly to his feet, glancing at Cryosanthia. "If the gods are merciful," he tells the sith-makar woman, though his voice makes it clear that he doubts they are anything of the sort. A hand moves to the ring he wears, tension rising in his form, looking ready to act at any moment. Though not acting -yet-.

Waiting. Watching.

Worried.

The woman - Seldan's mother moves toward him as well, his recognition of her bringing an even wider smile to her lips as she makes her way to him. She's not hampered by anything, but she doesn't run as unrestrainedly as he does. There's some small distance betweent them, but its covered quickly enough and she reaches for him with gentle hands.

The sith-makar is instantly alert when she hears Seldan's cry. His mother! She blinks, takes a step, hesitating and staying with Malik, "It's not the gods, the Mistress must be merciful." Concern is clearly in her voice.

Cryosanthia tries to inhale Carissa's scent from a distance. Inwardly, her emotional guardian is standing ready. "Please, please, let this be good news." A prayer to her mistress perhaps? Cryo hasn't prayed to her god in decades.

Something inside of Seldan pulls up juuuust a little, long-held teaching reminding him that tackling someone recently ill to the ground is poor form. Instead, he reaches for her hands, taking them in his. "Mother, how did you return? Are you well? When did you get here?" The veritable barrage of questions is rapid-fire, so much so that they might be slurred.

Malik continues to watch. Waiting. For the space of a heartbeat. Two. But something in the wizard moves, seeing Seldan approach, reaching for the woman. He's moving in an instant, fast, pulling right up along beside Seldan -- and offering the woman his brightest, most pleasant grin. "Carissa," he says, warmly, pure affection in his voice. "It's so good to see you again. We had so little time in Bryn Myrddion, and then you came here, and -- fell ill. We thought you lost. How did you escape?"

GAME: Malik rolls Bluff: (9)+16: 25

"Slow down, slow down Seldan!" She smiles at Seldan fondly, but doesn't seem to mind his barrage of questions as her words might indicate. Her hands hold his gently, a real, solid presence in his. Telling him firmly that she's not some kind of illusion. Carissa opens her mouth to say more, but Malik interceeds and she pauses to give him a curious look. "I'm sorry... Have we met? Wait... I think we have, you're a friend of Seldan's aren't you?" She doesn't seem to recognize Malik very much.

When the mage moves, the sith moves. Cryosanthia follows with him, stands behind the two. She's tall enough to see over both, and peers down with a carefully empty expression. She's watching Carissa and Seldan, her tail still behind her, hands clasped. "This one is pleased to meet you." She adds as an introduction, "We have not met."

"Of course, Mother. Forgive me, I go too quickly." Suddenly, Seldan looks sheepish, although he squeezes her hands in his. He takes several deep breaths, trying to slow himself down, all exhaustion forgotten for the moment in his excitement, eyes sparkling despite his valiant attempts to assume his usual even and focused demeanor. "Come, tell me. Are you well?"

Malik blinks, as if unsure how to react to that particular response. He offers a small nod, and a gentle smile. "Indeed, Mistress Padaryn,"he offers in response, measuring those words carefully. "We -- have been through much together." Some of the tension seems to melt out of him, just a bit. But this isn't the moment to interfere, and he simply steps back, giving her a polite nod as he lets Seldan catch up.

Carissa bows her head respectfully to Cryosanthia. "I am sure my son would introduce us properly if all his manners had not flown him entirely." She has his Myrrish accent as well as his looks, but the reproachful look she gives him is entirely forgiving. "You look positively terrible Seldan, you must remember to take care of yourself." She lets out a soft sigh and a slightly pained expression crosses her features, her lips turn into a frown and quite suddenly she embraces her son. "Oh Seldan!"

Cryosanthia isn't sure what to do. Nervous and curious, she stalks around the three humans. Clockwise first, she circles Malik, Carissa, then Seldan, reverses when she's behind the two men and goes back the other way to end up where she started. She's examining the ground, Carissa, the other two, then she looks over at the stands and sky. Her tail trails cautiously behind her. The sith keeps waiting for ... she's not sure. Something to go wrong. She searches her thoughts, for the part of her that pretends to think like her mistress. If I were this sith-fae, what would I do. The thought strikes.

"Oh... I see."

Seldan doesn't hesitate this time, pulling his mother close and holding her tightly, and never mind weighted practice clothes, dirt, dust sweat, or the beginnings of tears, heedless of any tricks that might be played, or indeed, anyone else around him. "It is good to see you well and safe, Mother. I love you."

The music builds slowly, starting far enough and quiet enough that one might wonder if it was there at all. But it slowly builds in both form and volume as the wee player nears. When Acedia ascends one of the stairs nearby, to the stands proper, it fills the field. It stops suddenly and the sound of feet replace it, as she barrels towards Malik. "Rah! Malik! Seldan. Cryosanthia." Goblin limpet in three...

Cryosanthia immediately moves to intercept, staring at Acedia and shaking her head. The subject of her concern clearly is Seldan and the older woman who greatly resembles him, currently in an embrace with the Silverguard.

"Acedia! Peace!" The way the sith stares, keeps glancing at Malik like an explanation might be forthcoming, and frowns when she looks at Seldan are all the hints she's giving right now.

Malik hears the music, eyes closing for a moment as if in silent prayer to something, though he holds up a hand to the gobber the moment she becomes visible, shaking his head in the classic 'no, stop' signal. A rare thing from the wizard, who almost always greets her with a smile. This time, something else is on his face, looking to where Seldan and this other woman currently are, face a mask of uncertainty.

The woman is crying, softly, in the restrained way that only a mother has when she doesn't want her child to know she's hurting. The kind of tears that come because you can't help them. "I thought I was dreaming to see you again. Or was the other just a nightmare? I don't know. It was so terrible Seldan. But this is real isn't it?" She squeezes her son, holds him tightly as if she might never let him go again. "It feels like years since I last saw your face."

In the distance the sun is slowly setting. A brilliant spill of crimson staining the sky, turning the clouds that were hidden until now gold and pink. The sun is dying in one last spray of white. Going, going. All to soon to be gone.

"Not so long as all that, Mother. Perhaps a moon? It is real, and I am here. But ... this place is a nightmare, right now. I would not see you suffer more. Father has been writing letters, but still has not come himself." Seldan has no intention of letting go anytime soon, and there is more than a hint of relief in the words he speaks. "I think he grows impatient." He pulls back only enough to look into the ice blue eyes that so closely match his own.

The Gobbo peers at Cryosanthia, her facial expression taking on an irritated expression, her teeth bared. She slows slightly, but it is obvious she's making the calculations to go around the larger Sith woman. It is Malik's reaction that causes Acedia to give pause. The older woman was noted before, but now the wee player scrutinizes Seldan's mother more closely.

"Ah, Seldan's mother!", she calls, her expression growing cheerful, and then thoughtful.

"It seems as though She is exceedingly far more cruel than I thought.", the Gobbo comments to herself for all to hear. She eyes the older woman being embraced by Seldan. "You look as though you have been cured, for last I saw you, you were in the Soldier's Defense, with the plague." Her eyes shift to Seldan. "And you, mister, you need to sleep more. You know what they say about burning the candle at both ends."

Malik watches the interaction, but hears Cryosanthia's comment, even if it took him a moment to process it. He looks to the sith, real worry on his face. "What is she doing?" he asks, barely a whisper. And then, the real question. "What should we do? What -- /can/ we do?"

Cryosanthia bares teeth back, this must be how goblins greet, although she doesn't recall seeing it before. She moves back to stand beside Malik, leans her head down so she can quietly speak. Her voice is even, quite neutral in tone. "I believe She is returning his mother, cured, without most of her memories."

She keeps the other thought to herself, as she watches the sun set. Some Fae things last only a season, or a moon, or a day, depending on the story. "This one is not sure there is anything we can do."

The sun sets. And as the sky darkens Carissa tilts her face to look at Seldan she smiles, is clearly about to say something comforting when she sways where she stands. She looks suddenly wholly unwell and she clutches at Seldan with confusion twisting her features. Then quickly following on the heels of that confusion; horror. The woman has no time to explain as her fingers clutch at Seldan's as they twist into claws that dig into his skin and bloody his wrists. "I was wrong. It /is/ a nightmare." She shudders and ooze begins to leak from the corners of her eyes, her ears. Blackness seeping out, seeking escape. She beings to seize.

"MOTHER!" The shriek of pure horror rips from Seldan's throat and into the night sky as the claws dig into his wrists, his eyes flying wide. "Mal! I cannot cast! Dispel it, now! Target her! You have to get it all!" The explanation comes out in a torrent of panicked instructions as he tries frantically to ease his mother to the ground. "My practice gear!" There's a blunted wooden practice blade, little more than a pole really, near the pells some distance away.

Malik might notice the small weight that suddenly presses itself against his leg, the Gobbo hugging at his waist. She shakes her head at Malik, and then Cryosanthia. "She is being most cruel, not the removal of memories... that might be a blessing for the moment. She has returned his mother to him. Whole. Why do you think that would be? Does she not do things simply to see how people react? Does this mean she will whisk her away again?" Acedia lowers her voice. "Does she not carve snowflakes upon those she returns? And we know what those snowflakes enable her to do."

"She is incredibly cruel, even if unknowingly so."

Her eyebrows shoot straight up. "She has returned her as a vampire... to replace Kol." Acedia squeaks at what Seldan says, and runs for Seldan's practice blade."

Malik hesitates for the space of a heartbeat. He doesn't have time to think about it. Consider it. Seldan is in pain, his mother is in danger, and the wizard moves on instinct, the magic flowing through him like water as the gesture is made, the word uttered. The magic blasts out of him with nearly all the fury it can muster, almost perfect, the wizard-prodigy simply doing what comes naturally with no thought or second-guessing. All that remains is to wait. And hope.

Cryosanthia nods slowly, listening with growing horror as Acedia describes possibilities she hadn't considered. Cruel options that would have been right in line with her Mistress' methods.

Then, the sith's pupils go wide as she sees Carissa start to leak ooze, shake and clutch at her son. She hears Seldan's call for his gear, she's about to jump for it when she changes her mind. Instead Cryo coils through a leap that lands her behind Seldan where she can grab hold. Her hands close around his waist and shoulder. She pulls, he resists. Twisting she trips him with her tail and dives with him. It's inelegant, but he's distracted, and she's heavy. It gets Seldan away from his mother, to the ground... just not very far away.

Malik's spell has an immediate effect, the ooze withdraws and Seldan's mother ceases to twitch where she's been laid on the ground. She lets out a low groan and rolls onto her side, clearly still in pain. When she moves you can see that she's been changed somehow by the ooze. Her eyes are red now, her eyeteeth visible and sharp when she pants. Her hands are clawed. Red eyes meet Seldan's from the face of his mother and she looks impossibly sad. "Please. Please. Please." She's begging the thin air, the nothing and it responds to her with words that steal the light from her eyes.

"Kill him."

Carissa shudders once again, and moves toward her prone son with deadly purpose. He's pinned, helpless to do anything but watch.

Something in that voice galvanizes Seldan, his eyes flying wide. "NO!" With a sudden burst of panicked strength, he tries to fight his way free from Cryosanthia, every ounce of his strength poured into getting free.

There's a squeak that signifies the Gobbo has returned, a wooden stick in her hands. She eyes Carissa curiously a moment, and then looks to the jumble of Cryo and Seldan. Her eyes flick to Malik and then back to Carissa. "This, too, will fail. Why don't you come and get your hands dirty for once, and do the job yourself?", Acedia asks of Her. "You want to figure out how we tick, come face us yourself instead of sending your minions!" She wiggles the practice sword at Carissa in a vaguely threatening fashion.

That voice! That cold empty tone that still sends a thrill through her, a fear, grabs and commands her attention. Those orders, that she's heard before, obeys. Cryo feels the world fall out from under her, readies herself for another frenzied insanity. Except...

Oh No!

"Seldan! You can't kill your nest-mother! No no no no nooooo..." The white sith starts a distress call. Seldan's heard it before, a deep involuntary scream in her throat in base tones. She immediately springs from the ground, twisting and grabbing Carissa. Putting herself between Seldan and his mother. Her eyes are black, staring into the woman's. "You can't! You can't! Don't kill your youngling, don't!"

Malik sees Cryosanthia release Seldan. Move for Carissa. And he already sees that the attack is going to miss, the warrior training he possesses knowing on instinct what is about to happen. And once more, instinct takes over, muscle memory kicking in as he reaches out with webs of magic, wrapping around Carissa's limbs like the strings of a puppet. Bracing himself, he leans back hard, attempting to fling the woman backwards away from Seldan -- and gets dragged through the dirt instead, his heels leaving ruts in the earth as he screams, "GODS SHE'S STRONG! SELDAN, RUN!"

GAME: Acedia casts Vocal Alteration. Caster Level: 5 DC: 13

The practice sword bounces and rolls on the ground, ending up near its owner. The Gobbo, meanwhile, is backpedaling away from Carissa now that Cryosanthia has jumped all up in the woman's grill. Her voice whispers something vague in Goblin-talk, while her fingers trace a quick, arcane sign in the air.

GAME: Acedia rolls perception: (5)+11: 16
GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (12)+5: 17
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls perception: (17)+5: 22
GAME: Malik rolls Perception: (9)+20: 29

To (Seldan, Malik), Aftershock pages: You both hear Seldan's mother say, "Please save me." Before she bites him. :3

The words don't seem to reach Seldan's mother. She moves with easy grace that she shouldn't have past Cryosanthia to lift Seldan up off the ground like some kind of kitten. She moves in a way that's so horribly familiar to Seldan, like watching a horrible echo in a body it shouldn't hold. She embraces him and sinks her newly sharpened fangs into his neck even as ooze begins to seep down her cheeks; black tears smudging lines on her beautiful face.

GAME: Seldan casts Protection From Evil. Caster Level: 7 DC: 17

Seldan has felt this before, an impossibly strong grip - and the dizziness as his blood drains away. His chances of getting out of that impossibly strong grip are slim, he knows. They both have but one chance, and that is the grace of holy Eluna. Desperately, he prays, tracing a sigil on her forehead even as she drains him, and silver light flashes for a moment between them, settling around them both.

Cryosanthia continues to sing her alarm song, with urgent, rolling vibrations. Her hands turn into claws, her jaw fills with immense, sharp teeth. She's pulling on Carissa, grabbing and twisting, attempting to help Seldan free himself. Her words are rougher now, from the changes to her mouth, "Noooo. Nesssst-motherrr! Sssstop!"

GAME: Malik rolls 1d20+18: (4)+18: 22
GAME: Acedia casts Silent Image. Caster Level: 5 DC: 13

"This is not normal vampirism!" Malik manages to get that out. "She may not be dead!" Something in the wizard's voice sounds pleading there, even as he tries to hold her back. Once again, he jerks those magical reigns backs, attempting to use the magical force to reign her in, and once again she merely pulls him forward, her strength astonishing, the man's muscles straining audibly, like stretched rubber.

GAME: Acedia rolls perform/oratory: (20)+8: 28

Acedia is small and has found a little place in the stands to secret herself out of harms way, for the moment. Her voice is low, and her fingers move again in an intricate pattern. Nearby, behind the frantic combat ensuing by a number of paces, Menel appears. Standing easy with a worried expression. "Why are you doing this... Mother?", he asks.

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d100: (53): 53

Carissa's head comes up, her breathing uneven, her eyes unfocused. She still holds Seldan. So easily. A trickle of blood trails down Seldan's neck from the pinpricks caused by her fangs. She blinks and looks at Seldan. Screams. "SELDAN! NO!" She's horrified. She holds him in her arms as if unable to let him go.

"Kill him." That same voice again and Carissa shudders, letting out a horrible noise that crawls out of her throat. The sound of a mother fighting with all she has not to kill her son.

GAME: Seldan rolls cmb+2: (14)+15+2: 31

The momentary distraction, the war with herself, and the sith-makar's claws combine to be just enough for Seldan to wrench himself free from the mmompire's grip and stagger back a pace, hand clapped to his neck where she bit him. "Mother! She is yet in there! She is a prisoner!" Menel's voice catches him out of the corner of his eye. "Menel, get clear, what are you doing here?"

The rest of the world drops away for Cryosanthia. She forgets Seldan, Carissa, everyone, when she hears that voice. Her claws vanish, her jaw becomes normal. She releases her grip, turns. "Menel?" Her distress wail has vanished. Another noise, a call to her youngling, come to me. She steps towards him, transfixed. Her voice wavers with disbelief, then she hears Seldan's warning, "You have to get clear!"

Menel's eyebrows rise up as both Seldan AND Cryosanthia look to him. "Do not turn your back on her. Face her head on!", he says firmly. "I ask again, Mother. Why are you doing this?" Malik sees Seldan get free, letting his arms fall to his side for a moment. He makes a gesture, pointing at Carissa and shouting a sharp, commanding word, the woman engulfed in arcane energies that seem to be doing some manner of battle with -- something else, but otherwise doing no harm. Whether they win or no is anyone's guess.

But the wizard is no longer calm. He looks to Seldan, eyes wide and full of panic, voice strong and pleading and full of fear. "SELDAN! -FLY!-"

Carissa drops to her knees, fangs and claws receeding. Black ooze bubbles out of her mouth, and she spits it out with a retch. The woman reaches out for Seldan, her hand trembling with the effort of trying to get to her son. "Seldan!" She cries out for him, and then as suddenly as that, she's gone. Pulled from the here and now. The ooze that came out of her trembles on the ground for a moment before becoming a little puddle. She's gone. Taken once again.

"Menel? I don't understand. I'm not doing anything. I'm sorry I tried..." Cryosanthia approaches him, her grown youngling, her emotions bubbling in confusion. Why am I not trying to kill him? Am I still? Is this all a delusion.

Then she sees, he is the illusion. It's not real. Hope shrivels inside her like a salted ooze, leaving a sticky slurry on her soul. She sinks down in front of the image, thumping to the ground, on her knees, tail flat out behind her. She stares, quietly crushed, a small quiet keen in her throat. A pained question, "Why?"

"Mother, no!" Seldan reaches out, staring in horror as she is taken again, still bleeding at neck and wrists where teeth and claws have dug into his flesh. He sinks slowly to his knees in shock, shaking like a leaf in the wind. He's mostly heedless of the others, one fist planted into the ground. "She is yet in there ... she yet lives ... she yet lives...."

Malik falls to his knees as Carissa disappears, a look of shock and disbelief on his face. He's silent for a moment, the normally stoic wizard trying to make some sense of what just happened, what magics were in play. But it only lasts a moment. Snapping out of it, he looks up, springing to his feet and rushing over to the paladin. "Seldan!" he cries, pulling the man into a tight hug, his whole body trembling as he just holds the man close. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

The image of Menel will fade, and Cryosanthia might hear gentle footfalls before a hand is placed on her shoulder. It squeezes gently. "I'm sorry.", comes the Gobbo voice, sounding oddly lower and scratchy. "I was trying t'get Her to react. Not you. I did not mean to hurt you." She sniffles. "Menel is a good man. He did you proud, in the end."

Acedia looks to Seldan. "We'll get her back.", she says softly, at first. "We'll get her back!"

GAME: Seldan rolls fortitude: (18)+18: 36 to Aftershock

Cryosanthia looks up at Acedia dark eyes. Her pupils are wide open, flashing as the reflective and low-light lenses catch the fading light. She has no words, only a low, broken sound in her throat. She nods, but, she has nothing to say.

Her whole fighting style is about finding weaknesses, and thrusting home. Whether the goblin realized it or not, she struck at a deep weakness within the sith. Cryo falls apart, the backlash of hope, seeing Menel again when her last memory was fighting Zeke off him then realizing it's all an illusion, forces her to confront it all again when she was carefully ignoring it, chipping away at it. Head on, it's too much. The palescale pushes herself off the ground, forcing out the words, "This one must go."

Seldan makes no attempt to resist Malik's hug, simply clinging to the man's shoulders, trembling like a leaf in the wind. "She's still in there. Her protection showed me. She can resist. There is a chance, if we move swiftly. We must .... we must find the others. And ... I would greet Her face." He looks up at Malik, wide-eyed and using the man for balance, exhaustion and shock written in every line of his body and face.

Malik pulls back from the hug -- and immediately sees that something is wrong. Half of Malik's face is covered in blood, the gear that Seldan wears quickly turning a red color as the blood spreads into the cloth. "Seldan?" Malik blinks, eyes frantic. "No. No, no." He turns to look, watching Cryosanthia walk away, seeing Acedia next to her, and makes a decision. "Then greet Her face we shall." The wizard closes his eyes, once again calling forth that magic, and he and Seldan are simply /gone/, in a puff of air, the space around them twisting at impossible, mind-breaking angles for a heartbeat before popping back out into flat, empty air.

Acedia sniffles once more as Cryosanthia walks away, and she calls out to her. "Remember the bard's forte!" She turns, to see Malik observing Seldan and obviously not like what he sees. She takes a few steps towards them, concern in her face... before they do the bendy-twisty-poof trick. And she stops dead and looks around. Alone. Several long moments later, the dulcet tones of a mournful dirge can be heard, fading into the night.

There are words. Others are saying things, they fall away. The sun has set, the shadows taken over, the sith-makar's vision switches for night and the world takes on different colours. She's oblivious to these also, turned in on herself.

Cryosanthia's first steps are slow, her tail dragging, then she speeds up. A coldness descends upon her, every feeling packed in tight, no wasted motion. Efficient, empty. When it hurts too much the only thing she can do is pretend to be her Mistress, who feels nothing. She does and moves like her, the impression is chilling and she leaves a hint of frost in her wake.