Every Rose Has It's Thorn [Degare]

[Salen]

Frost 81st, 4621

The darkness of the underground echoed with violence as Salen traversed the sewers of Boghadar; he was now a liability within Dahlia's court, although it was such a shame that the woman had venom dripping from her lips. The poison that Salen was forced to ingest on the initiation. An unfortunate event that had occurred. Salen knew his smell would be a giveaway, so he chose to contaminate it with the odours of sewage. Perhaps it was the best way to deter those agents away from him as they have been causing him a problem from time to time. At an angle, he realised that one of her agents were down there.

Shit.

Salen hugged the wall for a moment as he heard them talking in some unknown language. Rallion? He couldn't tell but it certainly wasn't Genteverse. He steadied his breathing as he heard the loud footsteps walking by. Salen converged and devised Umbraplasm from the darkness as he slowly compressed it into a Compass and pushes it forward. He'd channel it further as the Compass would ominously disappear

"Fuck..."

Salen chuckled mischievously as his laugh echoed in the room "Thought you had me, didn't you. You've got a thick lining of a skull to think that you would've subdued me last time." He said with a smirk as the Compass that was there before appeared as a figure of Salen's face. He had casted Confide as a form of distraction, letting his voice echo in the distance "Prepare for darkness unending, darlings. It's free of charge."

Salen's shaper formed on his arm as he began running at them at full speed, jumping at one viciously and clawing out the throat of the other man. In seconds he was rended, left an unbreathing husk of a corpse. Umbraplasm formed under his feet and wrapped around his body as he blended into the darkness. The Obscura was effective in lowlight conditions, making it difficult for him to see as he would watch the leftover man from a corner, further taunting him as he would look around in fear.

"Didn't they tell you, to mind your own business? That curiosity killed the cat? You might wanna give that lesson to Dahlia, if I were you." He added with a teasing smirk as he fled the scene, climbing out of the sewers freely and finding himself in the middle of the streets. He knew Degare's estate wasn't far, but he wanted to make sure he wasn't followed. He could feel the Umbraplasm peel away; the streetlights would become a problem for maintaining his Obscura. He simply followed the streets until he came to a gothic style manor house.

It had it's charms, knowing Degare always prefered the macabre and darker settings. He approached the door and knocked, looking over his shoulder as he wondered if anyone was in. If not, Salen would've had to traverse the rooftops. He needed shelter desperately, but with Dahlia's agents following him, it was difficult to be within sight of Degare.

One false move, they could both be dead.

[Degare]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

Late Frost in Boghadar was bitterly cold. The constant mists from the rivers and falls would freeze to the stone surfaces, the roads, the plants, everything. When there wasn’t snow, there was ice. More often than not, it was very dark due to shortened daylight hours and heavy clouds. There was something oddly soothing about this dreary weather for House Socorro’s Lord-Regent. Perhaps it was because he was naturally biased towards darker weather...or perhaps it’s because the atmosphere was a mirror for his mood as of late.

It had been twenty-one days as of now since Arkash had departed the city having left to fulfill his contract with Raphael of House Mathis. The little Rath had swore up and down that he’d only be gone for two weeks maximum. As soon as that time frame had passed, the pale elf had requested his most trusted Valran poke around for any sort of information that could pertain to the either man; anything about Raphael himself would be helpful, too. When she returned, neither party were pleased with what she found. Lucia spoke of how yes, a slave that fit the description of his lover's Human form was working under House Mathis…but then, suddenly, he wasn’t. One day, he was just gone. Beyond this, there was little information. Raphael had managed to sweep it under the rug since the disposal of a slave wasn’t exactly breaking news. Regardless of whatever the circumstance was, nobody bats an eye when people with no status vanish.

It’d been a few days since the Veir had learned this. The despair in his chest, the worry and anxiety that lurked in his gut had festered into a state that was physically painful to deal with. He was just barely controlling his house by puppeteering various Valran and a single other trusted Veir.

It’d also been a few days since he’d even left his tower. In moods like this, the man was broody and would often Sopor himself into oblivion to avoid the emotional anguish. So when Salen arrived at the manor’s front door, the person who opened the door was a tall, elven woman. She would tilt her head when her emerald gaze properly registered the man that stood before her. Why did this man look familiar? She was certain she’d never actually seen him before, and yet…

Right! He looked like the description of the man Degare had given her about two weeks ago. The Veir had said that if he showed up and requested him that he was safe and should be escorted to him at the nearest convenience. “You’re…Salen. Come with me, though be warned: the Lord-Regent has been in a rather poor state of mind recently, I’m not sure how productive meeting with him right now will be, but…I was told to bring you to him should you ever show your face.” She spoke in a voice soft and smooth as silk, though it was woven with shaky threads of hesitation. This would be exaggerated by the fact that Common was the Sil’Norai’s worst language; her words were distorted with a heavy Silvain accent. “Come, follow me.”

At that, the elven woman left the threshold of the manor and escorted Salen to Degare’s tower. Locked. Go figure, but that wasn’t really an issue…plucking a key from a rather crowded looking key ring, the woman unlocked the door and guided Salen further inside. On the ground floor, there was no sign of the Veir so the two continued forth and ascended the spiral staircase situated in the center of the tower.

The Ferrier was here, on the second floor, rather meticulously caring for his small collection of violins. Lucia was honestly relieved to see that the man was even awake; it was an especially huge pain to rouse him from his Bane induced slumber. As the two came into his line of sight, the man paused his actions and turned around to face the stairwell.

Surprised, “Salen…? What brings you here?” His voice is perplexed and the man looks exhausted. Lucia would continue to linger for a few moments; she wanted to know if leaving the two of them alone was actually a good idea.

____

'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Salen]

When the woman answered the door, he smiled in a somewhat charming fashion, although he wasn't exactly in a good mood himself but he felt the need to mask for obvious reasons. Trust. The smell of sewage was obvious on him "Sorry about the smell, hiding is not easy when scents of perfume are... Stronger than they should be." He nodded, although he was curious about Degare's sudden demeanour, wondering if Dahlia had upset him when he was out "Did anything happen whilst I last saw him?" He asked curiously about the lord regent's mood. It seemed that sadness had lingered on the dark corridors; as he followed further, looking around.

As he was escorted around the tower, he could feel the ominous feeling reside inside of him, like he was being watched. Of course the paranoia could only be from the fact that there was a Remnomancer hunting him. He knew that he could be pulled into a mind in a matter of seconds, but he was complete free for now. Salen seemed unnerved towards the woman as he began to think about the way the Entente operated. It was often in secret and doors were kept locked. He watched Lucia obtain the key and sighed "I guess I'll judge the situation for myself then?" He asked, unamused; not because he was being mean but because he was tired of it all. The secrecy, the lies. It was hard to tell who was the truthful one.

Yet, he needed to know what Dahlia was ranting on about that night, during the interception of his transmisser that she had planted on him. A rookie mistake in spycraft should he have known, he should've checked every pocket or slot that he could find. He ascended up the spiral staircase, following Lucia further into the tower complex until he came across Degare caring for his meticulous collection of violins. A musician, no doubt. He sighed as if he was in great pain, only that the man appeared to be in a somber mood himself.

"I returned, as I promised..." He simply announced "Although, I can't say these past two weeks have been one of you're elegant Daravinic soirees. More of a scandalous disaster; I hope the bloodhound has been keeping her toes off you no doubt?" He snickered as he made eye contact, smirking playfully before he realised the look on Degare's expression. His smirk turned into more of a rueful smile for a moment "I'm sorry, is this a bad time? You look unwell." He uttered, simply stating the obvious fact that he was upset.

[Degare]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

The elven Valran had chosen not to reply when Salen had originally inquired about Degare’s predicament mostly because it was not her story to tell…however, at this point, her Lord had barely even told her the full truth. The limited information she knew included that a man he’d met and spent a lot of his time with for the month of Rime had left to conclude his business with House Mathis. As the days flew by, the older elf grew increasingly anxious and upset until she forced him to admit why, stating then that it was because that little lover of his had promised to have returned by now. In that conversation, she offered to look into the man’s fate…see how he was doing under Raphael. What she learned was that the man had disappeared, sending Degare further into a downward spiral. The finer details of the relationship, the actual reasons as to why he cared so very much? As of now, he’d still refused to share.

By the time Lucia had led Salen to the door and plucked the keyring from her pocket, he spoke again. With an annoyed sigh, she spoke, “Yes. It is simply not my story to tell, Salen. If he’s of a mind to tell you, maybe he will— but I cannot speak for him on this subject.” She spoke in a formal tone but one woven with threads of bitterness.

When the two arrived on the second floor of the tower and found Socorro’s Lord-Regent, the Valran stepped back and sat herself in a chair on the other side of the room. She wanted to make sure Salen’s intentions were harmless.

Degare first spoke, and when Salen replied, the Veir bit his lip and wore a pensive expression. “At least you kept yours, then, huh…?” Referring to keeping promises, the elf spoke just loud enough for Salen to hear him, but the question didn’t sound like it was even directed at the other man. “Oh…sorry, nevermind that. The past two weeks for me have been…just as bad as your own, it sounds like. Though not because of Dahlia…she’s probably busy with someone else’s business for now.” He punctuated this sentence with a longer sigh before he spoke again. “No. I’ve been slighted, I believe, by another Veir. Raphael of House Mathis— have you heard of him?” He posed the question, though he figured Salen would not. Raphael was not very well known nor was his house particularly noteworthy. “As much as I wouldn’t mind sharing, I just…it hurts to recount. The shortest answer is that I made the mistake of becoming rather attached to somebody who owed the man a debt, and when he left to pay it back…he never returned. All signs point to Raphael having killed him.” The elf initially planned on stopping there, but he realized that Salen might assume if he’d fallen for somebody that that person would be nobility, and the death of nobility isn’t really something you can just sweep away. “...I should add, the man I fell for lacked a title and was going back to receive a mark to shake away the shackles of slavery. His death would mean nothing to anyone in greater Daravin.” He spoke bitterly with words dipped in venomous malice.

____

'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Salen]

Salen looked confused for a moment as it seemed as if Degare was being confrontational; he furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance before he corrected himself. He sighed through his nose as he mentioned the weeks and Dahlia's meddling "Pfft, probably fucking one of the Monteses for information. Yeah, she's the classic information prostitute." He added before he realised that Degare was indeed in a state of melancholy; he tilted his head as his stare was more soft and comforting Raphael of House Mattis... He had never heard of a name but it sparked Degare's curiosity "Never heard of him, but yet I'm not surprised... You Entente were always like a pack of armored hyenas waiting for the moment where someone drops dead." He sighed as he spoke bitterly about the political situation in Daravin, knowing that he was also without a title.

"The morals of maggots, that's what this shit is all run on." He uttered as his voice darkened and became more broody with his tone "Perhaps one day they'll all learn not to fuck with the wrong person as they will lose one day." He paused before making direct eye contact with Degare "They all will." He sighed as he answered Degare truthfully about his feelings on the whole matter.

However, Degare appeared to have become emotional when he started talking about the attachment that he had gained whilst he was away. It appeared to have awoken something emotional within Salen, something that he had recollected a long time ago. His lover, Tiberius. However, the pain resided from the man's desperation to escape slavery for Entente were vicious, cruel and dangled hopes of false opportunity. He would turn to Degare as a tear came rolling down his cheek "Desperate as I was... What a fool." He could feel the tension of emotions build up within him as he shook his head "Nightfall, no doubt?" He asked curiously.

"I was initiated into that mark out of spite, Degare. There are Veir out there who give that mark to people, only to make them fail on purpose... To wound them and to stop them from ever being able to retain a mark of control... I should know, I was a victim but I succeeded all because I pushed through the pain..." His voice became hysterical with anger as he was heaving with bouts of anger "Of course they would kill him. They wouldn't want a common man to throw them off the seat of their houses one day... No... Preservation, that's what it's about." He would begin to become more upset.

"I'm starting to believe I lost someone I loved dearly because of Daravin's politics... It's fucked up all of it!" Eventually, it became too much to handle as Salen would curl up into a fetal position beside Degare and began sobbing his heart out "It's just... Not fair..."

[Degare]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

Both of them now sitting on the floor across from one another with Lucia lurking on the other side of the room, Degare sighed softly at some of Salen's words. He knew what he was saying was true. All too well, in fact. "As somebody who's lived over a century here, yes. The paranoia and bloodshed only begets more of the same. We treat each other terribly and raise our young to do the exact same thing…would that I could do anything to upset the current power balance, but even for all my strength, there's mages here that far outmatch me. I suppose I need to push myself further for power…" He spoke with a voice that had hints of disappointment and threads of almost embarrassment woven throughout. The pale elf really did wish he was stronger. "I do hope that when many of Daravin's prominent players fall that I can play a part in it, at the very least." Here, the Veir spoke with cold sincerity crossed with malicious spite.

It was then that Degare chose to open up a little more about what was troubling him. He shared with Salen that he believed another Veir was responsible for the disappearance and, he assumed, the death of his lover. The man's response sounded as if he empathized with Arkash's plight. The two of them were both slaves at one point, it would appear. "I…can't say for certain. My lover didn't specify…just that he needed to do the Veir one last favor and the mark would be his. I told him I'd just give him one of mine, but as it turns out, he'd been tricked into signing something and would be endlessly hunted by Halamire courtesy of that Veir should he try to get out of their deal. So he had to go…there was nothing I could say. Nothing I could do. It would not look good on my end to step in either, and he swore to me he'd be fine…" The Ferrier's words ended with a sad sounding trail, evidently very upset at the fact that he had chosen not to intervene.

The Lord was well aware of the fact that Entente would give that mark as a black gift to slaves who wished for freedom, corrupting them in the process by deliberately sabotaging the initiation. His heart sank. Did Arkash even know that was a possibility? Would he follow his advice and refuse to give Raphael his mark until he'd already successfully received the one he was promised?

Unknown to Degare at this time, the answer was no. It went exactly as Salen assumed– Nightfall, and he was sabotaged, magic sealed away.

The pale elf looked like he was about to cry at the thought. "I ah, hope not…he was…really quite excited about learning magic." Degare skirted around the fact that Arkash was already a master Blood mage and losing that was the real issue, but it's not as if what he said was a lie. The Rathor did mention he wanted a mark from the Veir, and that he was excited about learning along with him as he advanced his own Blood Magic. Alas…as far as reality was concerned, such a thing was not to be.

Salen's anger reflected the sadness that plagued the silver elf. "Correct…and I can't inquire into the disappearance either. Because…why would I, a Lord-Regent, care about the fate of a slave? I'd stand to lose a lot of the power I've struggled to gain merely by showing any amount of empathy in that regard. Especially since the slave of another is considered not my business. Lucia did her best to look," he spoke with a light nod in her direction, "...but all she discovered is that he is gone. Probably dead like the man you lost. All the Entente does is destroy things, really…if…if it means anything to you, I plan on pulling strings to increase my political influence and power as a mage. Dahlia's death is written into that, too. If nothing else…I'll help you get your revenge on her." Some of his words are delivered much slower than others, voice almost breaking, but as he got to the end and spoke of gaining power, he just sounds a combination of angry and determined.

Resting a hand on Salen's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, the Ferrier spoke again. "Perhaps you can help me in that regard? …and on a personal level as well? I'd like Remnant…it'd be useful against Dahlia and other Entente, but also…I want to relive the memories. Did you know I was married for nearly forty years? I'd give up a lot to relive some of those days. Even more if it meant I could cherish the brief amount of time I shared with the man Raphael took. He was…unique and truly special. Please…I'd be indebted to you." The Veir's voice sounds genuinely desperate, marred with the weight of his guilt and despair for losing both of those men.

____

'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Salen]

"If you can't beat them, join them and you'll eventually beat them at their own game..." He shrugged as his look appeared to be saddened once more as he listened. He began to think about what Degare was saying and weither it was a sincere or approach of desperation "Is it really a game? A game of life? A performance to ruffle each other's feathers." He stared at Degare, sighing deeply through his nose, following up on his deep frustrations that seem to plague him "Pushing yourself for power? For what good would that do? What would you do with such power if you had it?" He asked the questions in a pointedly way wondering if he was being sincere; Degare's emotions seemed to have drawn him on further passions, but it appeared that Salen questioned every single motive he made "That seems to be the trouble, people don't know what to do with it once they obtained it." His gaze changed slightly as if he was making judgements towards Degare's thirst for power.

"Will you make change, or will it be the same mess that gets a lot of innocent people killed or force others like me to live a life under servitude just because we aren't attributed to some false god!" His rambling would become increasingly aggressive "If he was, then why doesnt he burn my soul like the heretic I am; if he was so mighty and righteous then why do people like me have to live in his tyranny." His tone of voice became erratic as he became more upset; perhaps on the melodramatic side of the scale for someone of his stature. Salen was clear that enough was enough. It was time for change to happen as his anger heaved. There was a burning passion in his words, but the state of melancholy drew Salen into further expression his emotions.

He broke after that point as he wiped his eyes listening further to the conversation; he couldn't inquire about the man's status but it appeared that he was somewhat "If you love someone that much, you'd do anything for them, Degare..." He corrected on his behaviour and sighed as the thoughts of Tiberius came in "I was on an assignment Dahlia sent me on with Tiberius, I... Lets say, he almost got into an incident and... I jumped in front of a bullet for him. It takes a strong amount of love to do that for someone Degare, but... I did it. If I were in your position I would've risked every ounce of power I had just to keep him safe, if I loved him that much..." He became more hysterical as the topic became more intense, too deep to go into. He sobbed as he made eye contact with Degare once more "Entente do destroy things, thats why I'm..." He paused as he sobbed continously as he tried to calm himself down "Revenge, justice... That's what I want! I wanna see her suffer! I want to take everything away from her that she has spent her long life building. Believe me, I'm this close" He measured with his finger.

His anger and sadness was burning through him, it was as if he had the strength to wanting to punch someone as his Corvo Shaper started to emerge. The sharp black claw with red arcane markings that glowed along this hand; it seemed as if it was sinister and dreg-like in appearance. The comforting grasp of his shoulder convinced Salen to transform his arm to normal. He turned to Degare once again only this time he seemed a lot more calmer than before. The look of anger could still be seen with him "Remnant? You... You want my mark?" He asked as he appeared reluctant to give it to him. He listened closely, knowing that Degare was a desperate lonely old man, seeking an opportunity to relive the memories "You want to relive some of those memories again..." He repeated as he began to feel upset again.

"I would be able to relive those memories of Tiberius too, Degare but... The truth is, Dahlia damaged most of my mindscape with her meddling; she claimed it was for my own good, but it wasnt. It hurt me... Deeply..." His voice was quiet as a whisper, although his pain was reflected by the facial expression, the frowning, the pleading eyes and more importantly the quivers in his breath. Perhaps Degare did convince him, after all he was to him a sweet innocent man who wanted to find himself once again. To relive life to the fullest.

"Alright, but on one condition... I show you something." He brushed his hand amongst Degare's cheek as he caught a slight tear upon them from when he was crying "I must warn you as well... This is my first initiation and Remnant initiations are more easier when the initiate is younger. It might be much more of a risk due to your age, Degare. I hope you fully understand that well..." He warned.

[Degare]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

Is the Candor really a game? That’s a question he was sure many citizens in Daravin had considered at some point in time. “Candor is a game when you and your peers put such little value on anyone’s life except your own that the consequences are regarded with laissez-faire attitudes and zero opposition, yes. Is it a fun game? Only for the truly cruel, or those who already sit on thrones of power so large that they consider themselves untouchable. To everyone else? No, I’d compare it more to a tightrope walk. It’s a fascinating sort of performance to watch from a distance, but doing it yourself is nerve wracking, potentially life ending.” The pale elf spoke with a sort of bitter, spiteful tone, lacking energy in his delivery as if defeated. With a sigh, “I only want power for the safety of myself and my family. I suppose, by extension, anyone else I truly care about. If I could do whatever I wanted, I’d topple the church but that…isn’t realistic.” The Veir gave a sort of irritated shrug of his shoulders at the mention of the church– something he’d never been a fan of.

When Salen next spoke, Degare stayed silent as his emotions rose and until he reached his declaration of revenge towards Dahlia. The elf shook his head, “...you don't understand. I asked him to let me go with. I told him I’d help, that navigating Entente was something I was good at. He told me no, insisted that it would offend him if I didn’t trust him to handle this himself. I…I really didn’t want to upset him or disrespect his wishes. Maybe I should’ve, but…he looked so genuinely hurt that I didn't believe him capable...I couldn't force myself to go against what he wanted,” his words trailed off, voice fairly frayed by now under the weight of the guilt he felt. “I do support the notion of you taking down Dahlia. I feel much the same towards Raphael at this point and I’ve never even met the man, but I want him gone all the same.” In contrast to the anger coursing through Salen, the Veir felt something far more akin to despair; he felt crushed under the weight of his own emotions.

After he voiced his interest in the other’s mark of Remnant, Salen appeared surprised at first, then saddened once again. He went on to explain that Dahlia had damaged the memories he’d shared with the lover she’d stolen. “If she was able to dim those memories…after you reach her level of mastery, do the same to her. Break her mind and watch her hang herself with the game she’s spent her whole life playing at the expense of others.” While this was a cruel suggestion, Degare genuinely believed it was a fair fate.

Salen offered a warning, however, about getting Remnant’s mark. The older somebody is, the more complicated it is. “I…am aware. I know a couple others who’ve gone through it and I understand the difficulties that may arise from the amount of Engrams I’ll have to find but…I have every faith we’ll be able to get through it.” With a soft nod, he spoke again, “Your condition is fair. I'm ready whenever you are.”

____

'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Salen]

Salen saddened even more at the Candor's influence on the Entente "If it's potentially life ending, why do people do it? As a way to prove themselves. It sounds like if played right; it can be a boon... Like I have said before, the best way to win is to join them... Beat them at their own game..." His eyes looked at the other male before he tilted his head for a moment; he looked at the other man and sighed, narrowing his eyes at the selfish means that Degare had displayed, but when he said anyone else he cared about his face softened "What about people who are suffering from the lower ranks, will you make change there?" He questioned Degare; perhaps his vision of the world was something curious.

He would listen to him continue his coversation as his emotions were already high, shaking his head for a moment as he frowned "He sounds like a man you'd want around alot... Strong, independent and honest, I'm sorry... I can be blunt at times" He shrugged as he looked back at Degare "Speaking of which... Dahlia mentioned a connection to my father... I... I didn't understand that. I hardly knew my parents, I never had a childhood to speak off..." He frowned as he glanced at Degare before turning and looking down immersing himself in his own thoughts.

"Do you know any connections with Auclair? That's... My surname" He asked curiously; the more he held onto this, the more it bothered him. Was Salen some kind of descendant from an Entente house that was yet to be revived? He could only find that out "I want to know, Degare... If I am descendant from Entente, it may help in our struggle against Dahlia and also Raphael..." His voice became gentle and calm for a moment "Please, Degare... If Dahlia wants you dead for a reason then it has to be something to do with me, why did she make me the one to assassinate you..." He asked with a pleading look in his eyes.

"Please, Degare... Tell me everything, no more secrets, no more lies... I'm done with them..."

Degare would continue voicing his interest for the other mark; at his surprise he was taken back by such a request but he came to warm up to it after the innocent usage of the magic came to be. When Degare mentioned about breaking Dahlia's mind, Salen would glare back at him and exhale through his nose, expressing his frustration "I'd do far worse to her believe me... I'd kill her. All she deserves is death. She will get it Degare." He nodded on further.

Salen sighed as he looked over at Degare "You... really have faith in me. I don't know Degare, I'm not quite strong enough myself. Can I get you through a century of engrams?" He frowned as he doubted himself. One of Salen's biggest flaws was he underestimated his capabilities because he had been pushed out for so long. It was normal for him to feel this way "Alright, if you trust me..." He said, as he got up; placed his arms around Degare and eventually carried him bridal style towards the bedroom.

His strength seemed to manage it as he placed him down upon the bed "Comfy?" He asked tenderly "I'm going to draw the mark, I... want you to fall asleep once it's done. Are you ready?" He announced before beginning the drawing of the mark along the back of his head. He eventually looked at him and laid beside him "Close your eyes... Go to sleep and then guide me to your engrams; they must all be awakened before my ether runs out; if it does run out I will have to abandon you in there... I hope you understand those risks..." He responded.

[Degare]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

In response to the first question posed, “there is a risk for death in a lot of things. There’s a risk of death every time I gain a Mark of Control, for example….yet I still seek them.” The Ferrier shrugged; for some people, there are things more important than even being alive. To the next question, “I do intend to shift the balance of power as a whole, though at the moment I cannot quite answer as to how…that’s a bit…further along in time, I think.” Much as this answer may sound like something of a copout, his intention is simply to not make a bold statement or promise he would then be unable to keep.

After the elf spoke of his missing lover once more, Salen’s reply drew a sigh from him. Shaking his head, he spoke, “He is…all of those things…if a bit naive. I can’t really blame him, either– his ego isn’t necessarily unfounded and men his age tend to be willing to take rather precarious risks. I only wish I was able to change his mind, truthfully.” There is obvious pain woven into the fabric of his voice threaded alongside strands that sound something akin to wistful.

At that, the subject shifted when the Veir made a comment about Dahlia. Dahlia knew something about Salen’s parentage? Right as he began to ponder this, Salen spoke again. “Auclair? Yeah…if memory serves, she killed a man with that name– Lorenzo Auclair. I’ll admit ignorance on the circumstances surrounding why she wanted him dead, but she pinned the killing on her sister. If there is any power you can draw from what’s left of House Auclair, I’d suggest looking into it.” Admittedly, his memories on the subject weren’t the best due to how long it had been since this happened, but he definitely remembered that name.

When Salen stated his desire to kill Dahlia, Degare’s response was to smile. “Good. Much as people can wax poetic about the morality surrounding vengeance, some people are such a menace that their flame being snuffed out poses far greater a benefit than any moral failing involved in killing.” Not that the Ferrier had any personal qualms with murder, to be fair.

A century of Engrams. The concept sounded intimidating, sure, but it’s either walk through the initiation now, or add yet more Engrams to his mindscape later. That, or just forego this Mark altogether. The Veir didn’t have much interest in either of the latter two options. “I’m sure you’re more skilled than you give yourself credit for…plus, I think I should be able to guide you through my own mind well enough.” He spoke with somewhat false confidence given he had absolutely no idea what his mindscape would look like, but oh well.

What the younger man did next initially caught the elf off guard, but he didn’t offer much resistance since it at least sounded like he was going to end up with the mark he wanted. Salen carried him up the stairs and into his bedchambers with a slightly confused Lucia following after the two of them.

It would appear that Salen’s intentions were polite– he probably would be exhausted mentally and etherically at the end of the initiation. “Thank you for the consideration, then,” he spoke with a dry laugh at the end. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be at this point.”

As those words were spoken, he felt the ether spark against his skin like static as the other drew it on. While he did hear the other’s words, he didn’t really get a chance to respond before his entire world began to shift. Both he and Salen were transported into the mindscape of the Ferrier in rather short order.

Eyes open, the elf took a moment to adjust to his new surroundings. The two of them stood before a facsimile of his own tower, but the surroundings were not quite what one would expect of Boghadar. The area had Boghadar’s mountains, its rivers, its falls…but everything was broken. Bits of rock floated in the area as if suspended by lapsing gravity– they left behind huge craters in the ground, missing pieces from mountains. Some of the waterfalls and rivers appeared to flow backwards, the sky was a bright mix of gold and red split with white clouds and the trunks of the trees twisted in ways most unnatural. Out here, nothing appeared to resemble what the elf had been told an Engram was supposed to be.

Having somewhat gathered his bearings, he gestured for Salen to follow him and then moved to enter the unusually large tower before them. The first room they entered had them standing on the ceiling; a variety of Engrams were strewn across every wall in the room. The elf sighed, seemingly annoyed at himself for his mindscape making itself into something of a puzzle, especially since this definitely wasn’t all of it. “Let’s start here, then…” from his tone and volume, one would think he was talking to himself.

—
To supplement this thread, please see these links in order to experience Degare's memories properly.
Degare's CS! Contains his history and links to specific threads in the past!
Degare's Plot Notes! Contains links to all threads written as well as an assortment of other text!
—

One at a time, the Ferrier tapped into each Engram in the room as he came across them. There was something odd about experiencing things like this…especially since these Engrams were so very dull. He’d never really imagined what it’d be like to remember being born at the age of one hundred and two. Much as he liked to see the faces of his parents again, he understood that wasting time reminiscing wasn’t particularly productive.

The next room the two entered was a maze made entirely out of reflective glass: mirrors. Some of these mirrors doubled as Engrams and the only thing the two really had for navigation was the fact that Salen’s ether made them light up. Making it through this room was much more of a struggle than the last, but they nonetheless succeeded. Combined, those two rooms covered most of the elf’s childhood, vast as they were.

The next room was…odd. It didn’t really come across as if there was a puzzle here, everything was just a jumbled mess. It looked like a lavish concert hall, but one that hadn’t been inhabited in hundreds of years after being blown apart by some sort of sufficient blastwave of force. Shattered chairs, props that were likely meant for plays, instruments and other debris were strewn all over the place. Torn fabric of the stage’s large curtains littered the room alongside a variety of papers– sheet music? There was a lot to look at, and that’s before one even acknowledges the fact that everything appears to be coated in acidic blood. In addition to smelling foul, it was apparent that the blood itself further corroded everything it touched.

Oh well! The two of them did not have time to ponder the meaning of this mess. This concert hall was enormous and it took them a reasonable amount of time to get through, though it also covered a reasonably large chunk of years from the Veir’s early adulthood to his early forties, ending just before he met Averre.

Having finally tapped into each Engram in the room, the pair finally passed through the only other door to move onward. The next room…wasn’t really a room…at least, not in the traditional sense. They were still inside a tower somehow, right? Or were they…the elf wasn’t quite sure how this worked, but nonetheless the path before them was composed of the chunks of rock from outside precariously floating amongst a sea of glinting stars. All around them was empty, sparkling space as his Engrams littered the broken, cobbled together stone path. From where they stood, this section appeared almost endless.

Getting through this part would be…fairly exhausting. It had Engrams all over the place starting from the day he met Averre up until the day the man died. The path would twist and spiral in all directions, sometimes leading the pair to walk upside down, although their feet appeared to anchor them to the rock. Going through all of this was…emotionally taxing for Degare. He did his best to steel himself and not react, however. After all, they simply didn’t have time. By now, he had no idea how long left Salen had in terms of his ether. Shortly after the two touched that last fated Engram, they rounded a corner in the stone path only to find the door at the end, as if it were blocked from view by a wall…yet it looked like there was no wall. If one reached out to touch it, though, one would feel that there was– it just mimicked the space around them.

When the duo passed through this door, they entered a space that only almost mimicked the garden between the three buildings of the Veir’s Boghadar estate…only thing was, everything was very dead looking. That, or in the process of dying, rotting away and surrounded by pestilence. Yet even in such a horrible place did they find even more Engrams. There wasn’t much of a trick to this area beyond simply watching your step. Dead vines and other debris made it quite possible to trip along with the stones of the paths being slick with whatever horrible slime had been created from the decay. Was any of this actually dangerous? Who knew!

The dead arboretum contained memories from the day after Averre died up until Glade 4621, almost a year prior. By the time the two had trudged through this utter mess, the elf could tell Salen’s energy was beginning to wane. Just a little bit longer, though. Less than a year left, at this point, even.

As the two passed through a gate towards the end of the rot, their surroundings shifted drastically once more and they found themselves somewhere that once more resembled an actual room that could fit into a tower. All along the rounded, black bricked walls of the room were Engrams. The floor was hardwood, though an incredibly dark stain. In the center sat a rather elaborate, dauntingly large fountain. The decorative style of it was reminiscent of that which one would find typically adorning the Veir’s personal chambers; haunting and macabre, yet at the same time breathtakingly beautiful and intricate. From the fountain flowed forth not water, but a liquid of strange viscosity and color. The only reason the Ferrier could hazard a guess as to what exactly this substance was would be how long he’d spent as a Bane mage. To him, it was very clearly a Pathos– though it had an odd, reddish sort of tint to it compared to the slick, oily black it usually had. Maybe this was mixed with some sort of dye? No…the metallic scent made him think of blood. Beneath the fountain rested an artfully woven red velvet rug, and bey0nd that? Nothing else. The fountain and the Engrams were the entirety of this room.

Simple enough, yes? Degare tried to restrain himself from expressing anything regardless of what memories the two of them walked through. From his Corvo initiation to the rather unorthodox sex he’d shared with Arkash, he very much tried to remain blank in expression…though there were times when his face broke, most notably when the memory of the pair saying goodbye to one another came and went. The despair of that day felt almost fresh after he finished reliving that memory.

It took a moment, but desperate to not waste time, he recollected himself and dragged the two of them ever forward. The rest of the Engrams were relatively mundane outside of the fact that Degare was most obviously distressed by the missing Arkash with each passing day. Salen would also see the moment where Lucia informed Degare of Arkash’s likely passing and the elf felt his heart break all over again. Slowly, the two went through the last few Engrams. By now, the elf was emotionally exhausted.

“I’m sure you’ve…questions…about things you’ve seen. I’ll…answer anything you want just…let me rest first, please.” His voice is as weak as he feels; frail and weary.

____

'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"