Watching Shadows (Open)

[Teller]

Having spent time immersed in the cultures of Elves, Humans, Dwarves and Urgals, Fasail carries a lot of information that could prove very destructive, but doesn't have the knowledge that tells her who she is and who needs to be protected. It puts her in a position where she could easily be used for her information by someone with a grudge.

Link to app

When I opened my eyes I was fresh, I was new, and I was empty. There was nothing in my world that preceded me. There was no beginning, no day before this one, no night before it. When a bird flitted across my unending, scorching sky, it had never existed before I saw it. The stones in my back were as new as I was. My body grew only as I became aware of different pieces of it as they lay beneath me. Crisp-feeling face; throbbing head, with wind blowing across tiny hairs over the back of it; aching neck; sore shoulder and loose arm, with a light shoulder and no arm opposite it; a torso below that felt almost numb, it hadn’t moved in so long; two legs and two feet; supposedly all of my toes. I was wearing a single piece of clothing—it felt soft with age, worn and dry. It felt like a sleeveless dress, but unfitted, shapeless, ending at about my knees. But I couldn’t sit up to see it. I was too tired. Or too….something else. I couldn’t remember.

It wasn’t like I had a name. Or an age. For some reason I knew I ought to have those things. I wasn’t thinking in sentences or clear thoughts. It was all an unhinged, frothing mass of vague emotions and impersonal perceptions, as though a copy of myself was standing above me, beside me, looking down and reciting the thoughts I ought to have.

I had nothing to do but to lay there. The sun tracked a gold-silver blaze across the blue-white sky and I watched it. I watched the shadows around my nose grow and mold and writhe as the sun edged sideways. Every now and then I caught a shadow from one of my eyelashes. The wind blew dust across my face and the flecks of dirt and grit caught in the skin of my chapped lips. Every now and then I thought my hand might have stirred, but then I saw that a snake slid gently up my wrist, over my arm and the soft crease in my elbow, its cool scales rippling over my throat as it rested its head on my chin to stare down at me. Its eyes were dark brown-orange, flecked with gold, the pupil lined and reflecting with silver.

I didn’t know there was anything else I was supposed to do. I must have blinked, must have slept, but mostly I just watched. Listened. I could smell the spiced musk of plant life but couldn’t see it from my motionless place on my back. Every now and then a bird squawked. Sometimes I thought I understood and other times I wondered why. But by what little I knew, I knew that my muscles ached--as dry as the rest of me, like smoked meat--and that I was unbearably, unreasonably tired. The sun being far too bright and far too close for my comfort, I managed to shift stiffly onto my side, almost to my stomach, and shield my eyes with the one arm I had, written over with a single word I couldn't read.

[Deleted]

Varda sat slumped on Blizzard's back. The white dragon's scales gleamed brightly in the harsh sun of the desert, throwing shimmering specks of light onto Varda's clothing. The only sound was the beating of Blizzard's wings as he crossed the expanse of the Hadarac. Varda kept her cowl pulled up over her head in order to keep the sun off her pale face. Despite the devestating heat, the speed at which Blizzard flew created enough of a breeze to keep most of her discomfort at bay. Not that she noticed. She was much too preoccupied by her own thoughts.
Eragon-elda and especially Lucian-elda had warned her against wandering into her confused mind too deeply. Now, however, she could not help it. She had been present when Aberon had fallen to the Shade army. Sent on a diplomatic mission by the elders, she had been there when they marched through the streets, slaughtering all in their path. Bravely, she had stood before them, a sword in each hand, cutting and whirling among them while Blizzard rampaged through their ranks. Alongside the humans she fought, battling against their shared foe. She had watched as they fell, both Surdan and soldier of the Shade army, blood running from their wounds, their eyes wide and staring. Varda had fought until there was only a small knot of resistance left. Then, at the request of the leader of the remaining human resistance, she had escaped. He had reasoned with her, telling her that their cause could not afford to lose a Rider.
Varda bowed her head further as the images of Aberon began to mix not only with those of her own battles against the Empire, sixteen years earlier, but the experiances that Galbatorix had implanted in her. When she began to grow confused by the turmoil, Blizzard gently intervened, pulling her from the depths of her own confused mind.
Do not become lost again, little one, he rumbled in his deep, masculine mental voice.
Varda nodded.
There was a moment of silence between them. Then Blizzard spoke again.
Why do you not try meditating? It usually works to calm you after a battle.
...If you insist, she replied.
I do.
Sighing, Varda stretched out her mind, immersing herself in her surroundings rather than what lay within. A few moments later, her eyes snapped open and then immediately narrowed against the sun.
Blizzard, do you sense that?
The white dragon sniffed.
No, but I smell it. It smells like an elf.
Varda frowned, extending her mind and once again brushing up a weak consciousness.
Let us see if he or she is in need of aid.
Blizzard rumbled in response and changed course by tilting his wings.

[Teller]

I had little sense of time. I believe I spent at leas one night aware of myself out in the desert, as I now realized it was. It went from being very hot during the day--although the heat, for some reason, felt as though it did not fully touch me. The cold of nighttime did touch, penetrating in sharp, narrow, long fingers through my skin and taking hold. But because my mind was, for the moment, as empty as the sky, it did not occur to me to try to alleviate the feeling of frost growing in lacy threads out from my bones. It would be quite pretty, I belatedly realized: a skeleton made of lace. The flesh it held would make for a very delicate creature, but no doubt it would be terribly beautiful.

It was distantly hot again, painfully dry, when I thought I heard the sun's heart beating. The rhythm was focused, defined, and softened as though heard through flesh. A bright pale star slid down and shadowed briefly over the sun, and my eyes caught at it like fish on a barbed line. But then the star swept behind me and I lost it.

But then it came before me again, larger this time, and manifested itself as an earthly being rather than heavenly. A white dragon and a Rider. In case they didn't know that I was alive, with the same stiffness as before I dragged my knees underneath myself, pausing to breathe, and did my best to stand. In doing so, I thought, So that's why it's so light. My shoulder was light because the left one had no arm in it. I stumbled when I tried to push myself up with two hands I only had half of.

[Deleted]

Blizzard's keen nose quickly sniffed out the lone elf. He circled above, his scales glinting as his spirals grew lower and shorter. Varda felt a small wave of relief when the figure stood shakily. If she, for Varda had sensed a female presence, could stand, then she was not so weak that she would need to be brought back from the brink of death. The white Rider very much doubted that she had the energy to work such extensive healing magic after fighting for so long.
As the white dragon approached the ground, he flared his wings to slow his descent. His powerful hind legs touched the sand first. After he steadied himself, he dropped down onto all fours and folded his wings.
Varda climbed down from the saddle, using Blizzard's front leg as a sort of ladder. She then turned to face the elf. Taking a few steps forward, she halted and greeted her in the Ancient Language. She then waited for her response, unsure of how to proceed.

[Teller]

A small female dismounted from the white dragon's tall spine and I slid one foot back in consternation. I didn't know them. I didn't even recognize them. But then....would I, even if I thought I knew them, if I couldn't recognize myself? I don't know how I didn't come to this conclusion sooner: the realization that I was just as much a stranger to myself as a feather to a scale. Very little seemed to matter once I made that dim connection. Almost without my conscious awareness of it, I temporarily forgot about the entire dragon and Rider standing before me, not that far even. Somehow their significance became much less important when faced with the sudden emptiness of my own mind. I tried, scrambling, to stretch myself back toward the days that must have come before me. For all that I worked, beating my mental self against the vacancy, I could no more have guessed the color of a gem I heard ringing against a hammer. There weren't even barriers--just an empty space where my thoughts should have rested. My head ached for the worried effort of it all.

The Rider spoke and my gaze snapped up again, reminded of the pair's presence. The sound of a voice against my ears was unexpectedly unpleasant in how different it was to all the sounds I had previously been hearing, but it was a balm too in that difference. Her voice was the sound of a creature who thought, and felt, and had knowledge that might help me regain mine. I understood her greeting swiftly, with an odd familiarity, though her words echoed in my head along with different sounds. It was several moments before I realized that the odd echo was my own mind providing the words to me again, but in different languages. I counted....three others. Incredible. I suppose my mind wasn't empty after all. It was another moment before I remembered that one was typically expected to say hello back, so I did so, taking care to say it in the same language the cautious Rider had. Without meaning to, I followed with, "Do you know me?" My voice rasped over the sounds, my body reluctant to produce them, tired. I hadn't meant to admit that I didn't know myself, but now that I had I found I also, somehow, didn't properly care. What was I protecting? I stood alone with half my flesh and my entire mind lost, wearing a sackcloth dress that probably used to carry grain or potatoes. There wasn't enough to me to stand much of a chance against a dragon and Rider anyway.

[Deleted]

(OOC- sorry for the wait T_T I'm a horrible RP partner)

Varda felt relieved when the woman responded to her greeting. When her expression had changed, becoming distant, the Rider had begun to worry. She knew that expression. It was one she herself had worn numerous times. It was the expression of someone who was becoming lost within themselves. Someone who was falling away from the world that surrounded them until everything lost its significance save for the one thing that the individual was internally focused on. Speaking before she could become too far gone, Varda had reclaimed her attention. She did not move at all from her current position, noting the woman's defensive stance and not wishing to frighten her.
She was pleased when she had received a reply. The voice that gave it was raspy and raw from disuse, causing Varda to suppress a shudder. It was what she had been seeking, though, and so she was glad. She opened her mouth to speak again, but the woman continued.
"Do you know me?"
It was a simple question. However, as Varda took in the woman's blank expression, she knew the true meaning. After all, she had asked a similar question before. It was a question through which the asker was seeking lost information about themselves. Varda felt her eyes grow sad as she remembered her own question, sixteen years prior.

Varda looked up at the green dragon that had flow out to meet them. The beautiful female had, of course, assumed that the elf and her dragon were there to attack the Varden encampment rather than seek shelter there. However, after the Ancient creature had listened to Blizzard's desperate mental plea, she had allowed them to land. Now, she loomed over the pair, colossal in her age. She lowered her head to view them with one huge, emerald eye.
Varda stared back at her, her desperate eyes not matching her blank expression. She felt the vast consciousness brush against her own, questioning, searching. Then it recoiled suddenly when it sensed the perverseness of her twisted and warped mind. After a pause, the dragon once again reached out. This time, her touch was soothing and maternal.
"Who am I?" Varda asked her.
The dragon paused.
I do not know, youngling, the female voice said, But I will help you discover it. Fear not, you are not lost.
Varda closed her eyes in relief too profound to truly express.

Varda looked at the woman before her.
"No, I don't. I'm sorry."
She attempted to convey her empathy through that apology, to explain the depths of her sorrow that she could not offer the woman the same help she had been given.

[Teller]

When she negates my question, my ribcage feels as though it has closed too far, it has surpassed the intended breadth of its hinges, it is crushing me inside its protective gates. I wish that it would not try so hard to keep me inside; it only makes the rattling pieces hidden there wish even stronger to burst forth and shatter on the ground. A lovely, most pleasant image to be forced to imagine, but I’ve done it to myself. I bite my lips together to give myself some other hurt to focus on than the one behind my ribs that cannot be assuaged. A person’s identity is defined by their experiences and memories. Without those, do I no longer exist? If I cannot name myself, will I even be a true participant in this world? Everything has a name, doesn’t it? Without one, I am nothing.

But her answer irritates me. I have told her everything just with that one question, all that I know and the entire world of things that I don't. She hasn't told me anything. I don't know why she's here. Is she just content to stand and observe as I fumble? "Why are you here?" Whether or not I appreciate her answer I want to know. My narrowed, uncertain, frustrated gaze flicks past her to the dragon, and I incline my head shallowly in greeting. The dragon has given me no reason to be annoyed yet. He or she just watches. But then, dragons usually do. "Who are you?"

[Deleted]

Varda was unsure of how to proceed. Even if the woman was unsure of her identity, she was still potentially dangerous. She watched carefully as the woman's expression became frustrated.
"Why are you here?"
Her eyes flickered to Blizzard, who nodded in return to her small greeting. Then another question was spoken, even as Varda was formulating an answer to the first.
"Who are you?"
Varda reached back to touch the leathery flesh that served as Blizzard's wing. The natural warmth the dragon emanated was soothing to her, even in the heat of the desert. She sought comfort from her bondmate in the face of the uncertainty of the situation.
"I am Varda and he is Blizzard," she introduced in a steady voice, "We are here to help you."