Riven Wight

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

The faintest hint of a smile pulled at Smaya’s lips as Ghent struggled to respond.
“No,” she answered in her airy, downtrodden voice, “I suspect you wouldn’t.” She opened her eyes, gaze still on the waterfall. “Just as I suspect you have not called on me merely to admire the scenery at my side.” About a hand’s width taller than Ghent, her eyes shifted downward to him, waiting with silent patience.
Smaya gave a slow, graceful nod in welcome to Ghent’s thanks. Her expression remained its unreadable melancholy as he nervously continued with his newest request.
She looked to him fully when he finished speaking. A short silence fell, broken only by the gentle rush of the waterfall. Her head cocked slightly, as if listening to its whispered counsel.
“You are… unusual, young Madrail,” Her words came slow and unhurried, giving no hint if Ghent's antics affected her. “I am aware of your plight. I will do what I can to provide you with swift travel from my forest. But I have a favor to ask of you in return.”
She looked away from him and stepped to the waterfall’s pond. Her bare feet glided silently over the soft, damp earth, even the mud not daring to soil her clothes. Her dress shimmered in the light as she knelt before the rippling pool, momentarily revealing a pattern of vines wrapping around it.
“As I trust you know,” she began, the mournful woe in her voice taking on a deeper, darker heaviness, “an illness has befallen Wonderland’s physical realm.” She reached toward the water. Her draping sleeves brushed the ground as she placed the tip of one of her thin fingers to the wet surface.
Color burst from her fingertip in a wave. Black veins streaking through a sickly shade of red replaced the moon’s monochromatic reflection on the pool, consuming the water from bank to bank.
“The Crimson Curse.” For the first time, a tinge of revulsion mingled with her sorrow. But it vanished as quickly as it had come. “While its blight has not directly affected the Spiritayum or our magic, we are not entirely free of it.”
The vivid colors faded, giving way to wispy shapes of lost, wandering soles. From toddlers in rags to the elderly in worn garments, they wandered aimlessly on the pond’s illusion, their faces void of emotion. Their wispy, translucent bodies twitched painfully as streaks of onyx and crimson zapped through them.
“The Sorceress’ Curse has done more than what meets the eye.” She closed her eyes and dipped her head. “It has trapped the spirits of deceased Wonderlanders within your realm and the Betwixt. The Spiritayum will not allow their Curse-touched souls to pass its boarders to travel to the Beyond. To their true afterlife. Even in death, they suffer. Not even the Omitten have escaped this fate.”
Smaya lifted her hand from the pool. The illusion faded, allowing the surface to again show off the pleasant glow of the moon and shifting stars between its ripples.
“In turn, parts of the Spiritayum reliant on passing spirits have begun to fade and twist from disuse. Should they fade or warp completely, it will create a rift between realms. A hole where the two collide.” She stood slowly. “It’s a slow decay, but decay nonetheless. A decay that would bode ill for both your realm and the Spiritayum."
She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath. “Forgive me for placing the burden of this knowledge upon your shoulders, young vinifcium. A burden I must further ask you to keep to yourself for the safety of both our realms, as well as ourselves.” She sighed, the sound so forlorn it could have spread its grief to even the hardest of hearts. “Not many would approve of one as youthful as yourself knowing our troubles. Our weak points.”
Smaya opened her eyes. “My request to you is simply this:” She turned to face Ghent, meeting his gaze. The eternal grief in her eyes turned her irises a couple shades darker, her eyes glistening in the moonlight. “Keep this—keep us in mind as you embark on your quest. Remember that it is not only your living, but also your dead who will be freed once the Curse has lifted. That both your realm and mine are relying on Wonderland's Heir, your White Knight, and you.”

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

No worries, and no need to apologize! Sorry to hear things have been rough the last couple days. I hope things get better for you soon. Take all the time you need. I always look forward to and eagerly await your posts, but there is never any rush. We are doing this for fun, after all!

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

Anora glanced to Darsby as the two released each other of their weapons. Her brows furrowed when she noticed Darsby looked like the more likely of the two to go after the phone. Her gaze alternated between Darsby and Ahllasta as ‘Dan’ replied. His informal speech was a bit off-putting after spending most of the day around authority figures.
She blinked and her expression hardened; he knew they were in a car. And either he was one good guesser, or even knew how many people were in it.
“‘Eccentric’s’ an understatement,” she muttered.
She leaned away slightly when Darsby moved closer. She kicked her backpack to the corner of the floor beneath the dash, trying to give herself a bit more room.
As shuffling came from the phone with ‘Dan’s’ pause, she looked to Darsby, her own gaze questing. But he looked like he had as many questions as she did.
The rustle of a phone being brought back to an ear burst through the speaker. She tilted the flip phone a bit from her to let Darsby hear better.
“Wait… what?” she asked when ‘Dan’ fell silent. “You're joking, right?”
Anora swore the universe was bored and had decided to see how much weird she could handle in one day.
She was pretty sure it was close to finding out.
Though she trusted her senses, that everything happening was really happening, it was all just so strange. So off-the-wall, certifiably crazy, a part of her felt like the entire day couldn’t possibly be happening. More accurately, it feared she had gone completely nuts. The day was an unusual flavor of ice cream topped with a magically-appearing talking black cherry that threatened to make the satisfying icy tower collapse. No matter how much she welcomed the break from the mundane world.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It took more effort than she would have liked to admit to keep herself even remotely composed. She looked again between Darsby and Ahllasta, then let their reactions decide her response.
“Know what? Sure,” she said exasperatedly. She sunk back into the seat with a gentle flop, her free hand gesticulating into the air with her answer. “Why not. As long as you don’t plan on killing or maiming anyone, what’s one more passenger on the Homicidal Crazy Train? Got a teleporter, Scotty, or do we have to pick you up somewhere between Gotham City and Mordor?”

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

Surprise flashed over Anora’s face when Ahllasta caught her reference—that, or there really were people like the Winchester brothers out there. Which wouldn’t have surprised her.
Ahllasta’s pride shone through unnervingly in both voice and expression. A shudder ran down Anora’s spine. After the woman’s earlier show of power, she could believe it. But at least Ahllasta’s eyes were open.
She cringed and glanced to the backseat when Ahllasta referred to Darsby.
“Great,” she breathed beneath the woman's egotistical grin. “Noted.”
Maybe that’s what that was. Some release of a true form? She shifted uncomfortably, part of her not wanting to look away from Ahllasta and the other begging her to.
An unusual shift in light caught Anora’s attention, making her decision for her. Before she could focus and figure out what had caused the shift, Darsby sprung to life.
She shouted and turned toward the driver’s seat as well as the confined car let her.
“Don’t!” Whether the statement was intended more for Darsby or Ahllasta, she wasn’t sure. She glanced to the steering wheel as the two readied to dispose of each other. Thankfully, Ahllasta managed to keep the car steady.
She couldn’t decide which she feared more: for Darsby’s life—especially if his Get Out of Death Free card had a limit to it—or of winding up in a ditch wheels-up.
She nearly jumped high enough to hit her head on the car’s ceiling when an unfamiliar ringtone burst from her pocket. She had shoved her smartphone into her backpack while on the roof of the farmhouse, its charge depleted. She glanced toward the mysterious bulge now in her pocket.
She looked quickly back to the fighting duo, planning on solving the mystery of the phone later. But both Darsby and Ahllasta’s attention had turned fully to her, their fight put on hold. Waiting for her to answer.
Okay, she drew out the mental word.
At least she wouldn’t have to witness Darsby getting slaughtered again… yet, anyway. As much as she trusted Darsby, her money was on Ahllasta in a fight between them.
She pulled the phone from her pocket. She took barely a moment to examine the flip phone, not wanting to risk it going to voicemail. She couldn’t remember the last time she had used a flip phone.
She opened it and placed it to her ear.
“Uh… yeah?” she answered uncertainly. She looked between Darsby and Ahllasta, expecting them to go at it again any moment.
Anora blinked and her brows rose when the raspy voice on the other end replied with a simple, normal question. She almost broke out in a fit of hysterical laughter.
For a second, she wondered if she had picked up a cellphone from the minivan and just not realized it. But she noticed Ahllasta had paled. Actually paled. No, this was no ordinary call. But at least Darsby showed no sign she should be cautious.
‘An enemy of my enemy’ and all that.
“You really don’t want me to answer that,” she replied to the man collar ID called Dan. Her voice came out strained and tense. She kept a careful eye on Ahllasta in case the woman tried grabbing the phone from her. “Who is this? How’d you—?” She stopped herself from asking the reflexive, ‘How’d you get this number.’ “Just… how?” she settled for instead.

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

Anora nearly bumped into Ahllasta when the beastly woman stopped. She looked up from the ground for the first time during their walk, for a moment fearing speaking had been a worse idea than trying to attack.
She blinked, surprised, and took a step away from the woman as Ahllasta instead broke into a short, grinding bout of laughter. Another thing Ahllasta and Darsby seemed to have in common, if for different reasons: both were borderline insane. The blood soaking into the woman’s shirt only enhanced the crazed effect.
More like desperate, she thought bitterly, swallowing and looking back to the ground. Her heart sunk. The woman hadn’t taken the bait.
Her attention returned to Ahllasta as she walked around a car, making Anora notice it for the first time.
Her brows rose as she took in the sight of the two-door Mustang. Definitely nicer than that mini-van. From the opposite side of the car, she watched through the window as Ahllasta shoved Darsby into the backseat like little more than luggage.
She cringed in empathy. Lifeless or not, it couldn’t be good to be treated roughly in his current state.
Once Darsby’s attacker had settled inside, she reached for the door handle with a shaking hand. The thought of a road trip sitting scarcely a foot from Ahllasta made her stomach churn. But even if she thought she could get away, she wouldn’t leave Darsby behind.
She released a breath she had not realized she had been holding and opened the door. Dwelling in a tense silence, she shrugged from her backpack then ducked inside the car. Her gaze lingered on the buttons on the center console.
Just don’t push the red one, she thought. Despite the situation, she couldn’t help but smirk as she dropped her backpack on the floor then reached for her seat belt. It was a small and uncertain expression, but there nonetheless. Looks like the aliens won after all. Rest in peace, Agent J.
Ahllasta’s voice drew Anora’s glance. She tried with minimal success to keep both her fear and enmity from showing.
Wouldn’t want to disappoint you with less, would we? she grumbled silently. Her mouth pulled down in a frown, but she kept her comments to herself. Door still open, she paused in buckling to glance back to Darsby. She bit her bottom lip uncertainly.
“Should we… stop his bleeding?” she asked quietly, her voice cautious as she closed the door. She kept Ahllasta in her peripheral view, watching for even the slightest sign of aggression.
Anora’s attention snapped forward with a gasp when Ahllasta started the car and the wheels drifted for a moment. Her eyes widened when they turned translucent, but she didn’t have time to think on that little detail; Ahllasta headed straight for the trees lining the road.
In the short instant it took for them to go from the road to the trees, barreling toward the trunks, she shouted, the sound echoing in her ears, and threw her hands in front of her in an X. A barrier sprung instantly to life as she turned her head and scrunched her eyes, bracing for impact.
An impact that never came.
Wondering if her heart was going to make it through the next few minutes or give up on life entirely, she tentatively opened one eye. She gasped, as a tree passed straight between her and Ahllasta. She flinched as another went through her and her barrier.
She swallowed and let her barrier dissolve. As the realization she wasn’t going to be tied up in the middle of a car-and-tree bowtie, she melted back into the passenger seat.
She cast Ahllasta a discrete glare for her lack of warning. To avoid the eerie sight of trees and other obstacles floating through their ghostly forms, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her frayed nerves.
When her heart at last slowed by a couple beats, she dared to open her eyes again. She breathed a sigh of relief; they had reached an expanse of barren farmland, the road a winding ribbon ahead of them. Though not smooth-going for the car, it was at least less bumpy than back between the trees.
She ran a hand through her hair. Her stomach grumbled softly, making her frown at it and scold herself for having only a single can of soup. She sighed. There wasn’t much she could do about it now.
Anora adjusted her backpack, debating on pulling out one of the energy bars inside. She felt tired, a bit on the exhausted end, but there was no way she would let herself rest now.
With the road drawing closer at an alarming speed, she tried to not focus on the surrounding land. She glanced back at Darsby’s broken form again, worry in her eyes.
Before, he had had some aid from the hospital. This time, he had no such luck.
This time. She wondered what it must be like to come back to life just to die again. Brutally, no less. Did he feel pain like everyone else? She had seen him struggle, but had he actually felt the hurt? Was he in pain now, wherever he was, or was he resting in blissful obliviousness?
She forced her gaze away from him with a shudder. She needed to think of something else. As they reached the highway, her mind wandered to the farm and the minivan. So much for returning the van to its owners… and then there was going to be explaining the damage to the house.
Sorry, Grandpa Jack, she thought with a sheepish, apologetic look out the window. Her list of ‘Illegal/Damaged Things to Deal with Later’ was growing at an alarming rate.
With a heavy, shaky sigh, she looked to Ahllasta when the woman opened the window, her own hair billowing about her face. Then she did a double take. Though they had solidified, the woman was driving with her eyes closed.
Anora inhaled through her teeth and reached toward the wheel. With a glance out the windshield, she paused, hand hovering between them. They were staying perfectly between the lines.
Breath held, she glanced between Ahllasta and the road. Swallowing, she slowly returned her hand to her side of the car. She barely managed to resist the urge to shout at the woman to keep her eyes on the road.
“S-so,” she began, in part to break the thick silence, but mostly hoping conversation would make the woman open her eyes again. Without potentially angering her. “Are you some sort of Winchester-style bounty hunters or something?” She spoke just loud enough to be heard over the whooshing whump of the wind in the car.

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

Thanks for your understanding! I appreciate it greatly.

That's cool. I've never tried it online. How's that going? Is it an odd adjustment from being used to doing it table-top?

Ha! Don't feel bad. It's fun. Well, not for her, but hey. I'm sure she'll get on plenty of nerves herself. She's a novice, so I wouldn't expect her to pose any kind of threat against her well-trained peers. Doesn't mean she won't try, though. Yeah, I definitely can't wait for that first part to make sense! Heh. It's intriguing, to be sure, and leaves me wondering.

Question, though: You've spelled it Pan and Pahn. Which do you prefer? Just asking for future reference. And it is pronounced like Pan, right? I think I remember having Anora comment something like, "Only if you count Peter Pan," and I didn't get corrected for her misunderstanding, but thought I'd ask. :-)

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

Anora gasped and took a couple stumbling steps back when Ahllasta addressed her, the woman’s voice taking on a new inhuman depth. Anora's breath caught in her lungs. With her attention completely on Ahllasta, her remaining hound flickered out of existence, melting into nothingness.
The deadly strength and prowess of the beast-of-a-woman pressed down over her. The oppressive aura radiating from Ahllasta made the beastly woman appear more than twice her normal size.
Anora’s heart hammered against her ribs as if frantic to escape the woman’s ire, the mist at her hands trembling with her fingers. She did her best to still their quivering, not wanting to show weakness to a predator. That’s what this woman was: a predator. A relentless hunter.
Anora tried to swallow at Ahllasta’s thunderous question.
She knew. Somehow, the woman knew—or perhaps guessed—her magic was limited. Or she had read her mind, as Darsby had.
Either way, nearly every fiber of Anora’s being screamed at her to back down. That this was one she couldn’t win in a million years, no matter how determined she was. Only a small, quiet defiance egged her to not give in, to not tuck her tail between her legs and simply surrender.
She glanced to Darsby still slung over Ahllasta’s shoulder. Her hands clenched. She couldn’t help him if she was unconscious… or dead.
Resentfully, she hesitantly let the last of her mist fizzle out. The glow of her eyes extinguished alongside it. Gaze dropping to Ahllasta’s feet, she jerked her head toward the stairs, indicating for Ahllasta to lead on.
Ready to follow after the woman if she continued on her way to the car, Anora kept her gaze on the ground. It made it easier that way. She took a few breaths, trying to remind her lungs how to properly work. She’d have to be smart about this.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth still felt dry. Her heart pounded in her throat.
“You realize,” she began after a moment, her words unintentionally quiet, “going with us will mean you can’t chase after him,” she tried, taking a shot in the dark and hoping the thought would put off someone like Ahllasta. The woman had, after all, been angry about her partner shooting Darsby down. A quick kill without time to ‘make good on her grudge.’ “There’d be no hunt. You’d know where he is. What weapons he has. It’d be equivalent to hunting a tiger in a cage. I don’t see the glory or satisfaction in that.”

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

Sorry for the wait! I've been getting ready to move to a new place and put where I'm at now on the market. As a heads-up, because of that and a couple other things, the end of this month and the first couple weeks of next will likely be busy on my end. It's quite possible I'll end up with time daily to reply, but if I disappear for a few days, know that's why.

Gotchya. Reference pictures are amazing, to be sure! I have a couple folders of 'em, just in case. That's a good idea to use Pinterest for that! Do whatever you feel most comfortable with. :-)

Ooh, D&D! I used to do that with friends. We'd get together once or twice a month to play. Good times. Ever play it in person, or just online?

Aww! Well. I'm glad you're feeling a bit better, but if you feel like you need more time or anything, don't feel like you have to get a post in. I'll be here whenever if you need/want more time to recover. I won't be going anywhere. Long-term, anyway.

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

Anora tensed, holding her breath as she waited for Ahllasta’s answer. Though the woman didn’t take long, it was long enough to make Anora shift her weight uneasily and her hound to let out a low, impatient growl.
Anora raised her chin slightly when the woman spoke, expecting a counter proposal, but this time, Ahllasta didn’t bother further speaking. Instead, the woman reached into one of the pockets in her cargo pants.
Anora’s hound growled warningly, its body hunching, ready to attack. Golden electricity swirled more frequently within its translucent form. The mist from one of the hounds she had released gathered in front of her feet, ready to spring up into a shield as a second defense. But the precautions proved unnecessary.
Her gaze darted between the beastly woman’s and the sphere she had pulled from her pocket. The thread it dangled from hardly looked like it should be capable of holding the object up as Ahllasta began to spin it.
Anora suppressed a shudder as she noticed the woman’s gaze did not once flick from her.
“What—?” she began, but didn’t get to finish her question. She gasped and stepped back when Ahllasta tossed the spinning sphere through the wall.
Before Anora could reform her question or her hound react to her thoughts and emotions, the small puff of plaster dust the top-like item left became a storm with a loud, cracking thud.
Anora stumbled back, blinking quickly to keep the dust from her eyes. Her hound let out a shocked, angered yelp, its form wavering for a fraction of a second. Before the dust had time to think about settling, she heard the man’s surprised voice, his clouded form suspended not far from her. With little more than a flick of her wrist, Ahllasta had the man down for the count.
Anora blinked down at the unconscious form of the man bound by the impossible thread.
“That’s one way to keep him busy,” she muttered. Her face contorted as she tried not to sneeze.
Her attention quickly snapped back to Ahllasta, for a moment wondering if the statement meant she was going to loan them her car. But her heart sank as the woman slid Darsby to her, Anora’s magic swelling around him too late to stop her, and shouldered him.
She intended on going with them.
“What?” She gawked after the woman, horrified, Ahllasta’s gaze still unnervingly on her. Her hound mimicked the question with a growling snap of its jaws.
Anora’s eyes narrowed at the order as the woman turned and headed to the front door. Her hands clenched at her sides. Ahllasta and Darsby had one thing in common, it seemed: they both expected her follow orders unquestioningly. Like a lost pup with no mind of its own. But at least Darsby had answered her questions.
What’s with these people? she thought, scowling.
She hurried after the woman as Ahllasta made it to the front porch. Anora sent her hound ahead of her, the rest of her mist dissipating.
The hound slipped out the door just behind Ahllasta. On quick, silent feet, it jumped the railing of the porch, turned mid-air, and slid to a stop just below the steps to block the woman’s path. It bore its fangs at her, daring her to try to pass it.
“I’m coming,” Anora growled, stepping outside onto the porch, “but like heck I’m letting you come with. You’re the reason we’re in this mess!” More mist swirled over her now open and ready hands, tendrils wrapping up her forearms.
The power usage nagged at her. She wasn't accustomed to using her powers as much as she had in a single day. It pulled at her energy as if she was in the middle of a workout rather than summoning magic, reminding her she needed to be careful. She still needed to save enough strength to drive Darsby and herself out of there. The adrenaline pumping through her and the energy bars in her pack would help, but neither would get her very far. That much she knew from experience.
Doing her best to not give away how using her powers affected her, she took a cautious step to the side to flank Ahllasta and put a bit of extra distance between them.
“I doubt we have time to argue,” she began, her words coming out in a nervous rush, “so put Darsby down and the two of us will be on our way.”
Her hound growled in agreement, the crackling sound low and feral.

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

It was the last sentence or two. Basically stated they lunged at her as soon as they were fully formed. Easy change. And mistakes happen. :-) It's easy to overlook things or forget you read something. Normally I'd point it out, but it struck me as a quicker change for me to make since I knew I was on and had the time. Heh.

Ooh! Picture! Awesome. Did you draw that? Thanks for posting it! No worries about not adding one sooner. I don't expect every character to have a profile picture. Reference pictures are awesome and I love when they are used (and using them myself) in RPs, but just descriptions can work just as well, if not better. I'm weird and even when I use them, I like to pretend I don't have them and still try to remember to add character descriptions and occasional trait reminders. Basically, I like treating roleplays like writing a book. Your audience wouldn't have reference pictures to rely on (unless it's a graphic novel). Keeps me in practice. But that's just me.

Thanks much for the pronunciation! Of course. Your characters absolutely mean something! I'm honored that you're sharing them and the rest of your brain-child world with me in the first place, and letting me have a small part in it all. ^.^

Wait, what? Page three... already?!


Hope you've fully recovered from whatever illness struck you the last time I heard from you! And that all is going well (or, at the very least, semi-decent) on your end.