Knights of Anathaeum Spectres in the Hold

[Faramund]

The dawnling stalked the halls after Saskia, always one step behind despite the distance she tried to put between them. 'Moving, moving!' Walking as if he knew where they were going, Faramund hurried onwards, upwards. Dunhold was a maze of shadowy halls and dark spiral staircases. Luckily for him, the shadows were Saskia's domain.

'You, uh... have any idea what to expect?' He asked, cursing as he bumped his head on a door lintel. The blonde knight bobbed along ahead of him, ignorant of his pain... or just not giving a fuck.

Saskia Kerraelas

 

[Saskia Kerraelas]

She was no longer present in the halls, nor did she truly hear Faramund.

Saskia's eyes saw darkness, the shadow see drowning the shadowed knight.

Her being would still be moving, searching, but her own wits was lost to the darkness she had been listening to. Saskia heard the bells, could picture them as they twinkled lightly a slight melody she once heard when tied to Farren's braid. Frantic, her heart raced. Determination not to be searching blindly for long, Saskia's hand seemingly reached forward, in reality grasping the cold air.

Her eyes began to return to amber, no longer smothered by thick plumes of shadow. Out of the very thin air, Kerraelas's hand curled around something, bringing it towards her and upon opening her fist, the same melodic twinkling could be heard. She turned to Faramund, frowning deeply. Disturbed by how she now became in possession of what she had been seeking.

"I...." She was stunned, unable to formulate a likely summation of his this came to be as she had never taken something from the shadows. They had always moved for her, presenting her with the physical thing she would be looking for, but to see it in her mind? To know how to pluck it from it's current location to manifest it straight to her hands?

Faramund

 

[Farren Lóthlindor]

After the Squire had escorted her back to her bed, Farren crawled under the covers, hissing through her teeth at muscles that screamed their protest at the abuse and left her barely able to wave and nod her thanks at Reynald's exiting form. Finally resting against the headboard and sighing deeply.

But she wasn't alone just yet. Peeking through one closed eye, Farren could see that Aarno still lingered near her bed, seemingly lost at what to do next. His expression made her realize that she very much did not want to be alone right now.

Gingerly, she reached out and captured the trunk of his wrist, her thumb absently brushing against his pulse. "Will you stay?" And in effort to assuage any hesitation on his part, added, "Please."

Aarno

 

[Aarno]

There was no sign of Syr Faramund in the infirmary, ending him with the conclusion the man had gone a bit further on his quest than intended. Or perhaps forfeit it altogether and ‘gone for a drink’ instead, as he fancied joking about on the regular.

Some months ago, Aarno might’ve yet taken that as a likely option, perhaps even hissed it out loud. Now, he wasn’t so sure anymore, cursed by a depth of experience to having an amount of faith when it came to that one particular Dawn knight. Hovering with indecision, he gave a huff and scanned the space for any which wanton detail to latch onto, a direction to go from here.

To maybe help— something— She had looked so distraught there wasn’t possibly a way he couldn’t—

The intention had only half-formed when it was promptly stricken through, a touch seizing him by the wrist. He flinched to attention, brows arched as his stare moored upon Farren, the words inspiring equally surprise as they did relief. Both were clear upon his face, slowly melting away to calm approval as he nodded, clasping her hand within his.

“ Sure, I’ll stay. The search party has clearly ran off and in interest of time and success, we’re most like better off waiting here, letting him find us in turn. “

Releasing her, he shuffled a little to hook his foot around the leg of a nearby stool, pulling it closer. Once it was settled to the immediate vicinity of her bed, he sat down on it, movements careful against the sting in his side. He deflated gradually therein, hunching against elbows as his arms folded against his chest, chin sinking into the wrap about his shoulders. The warmth begun transmuting all to lead as he sat, from his eyelids to his breath.

“ Pardon me— It appears I— Am not very lively company. “ He struggled out, glancing at her in passing, trying a smile.

“ Seems as the cold was the lone thing keeping me properly awake. So should I go out of a sudden, be assured it is not due yourself at all. “

Farren Lóthlindor

 

[Faramund]

Silent, Faramund watched the shadows withdraw. Somehow, for whatever reason, his sabre had found its way to his hand. In response to a threat that wasn't real perhaps? Or rather... one that no longer existed. What the fuck was that? He asked himself, mind groggily piecing together the puzzle laid before him. One moment he had been following Saskia through the echoing halls.

The next... darkness.

And shadows, he thought, returning his weapon to its scabbard clumsily. He could feel traces of some untold magic prickling his skin, making his hairs stand on end. 'I...' Saskia's voice shook as she tried to make sense of the senseless. He could see confusion in her eyes, and perhaps a bit of fear.

'You...?' Calmly, the big dawnling reached out to pry the silver bells from Saskia's hand. Her skin was deathly cold, her visage pale. 'We should probably be getting back to the ward, now.' It wasn't a suggestion.

Pocketing the jingling bells, the colourful ribbons soft to the touch, Faramund hooked an arm under Saskia's in support.

'Don't s'pose you have any idea what just happened, do you?' He asked, worried for his sister-knight. 'Figure that was a first time for you. As it so happens, that was a first for me, too.' Smiling, Faramund plucked a torch from the wall. Never can be too careful.

Saskia Kerraelas Farren Lóthlindor