SilverPaw

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment - On Hiatus

Uh, yeah, I'm also...very behind on this.

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment - On Hiatus

I mean, the details and worldbuilding are just astounding, and honestly kind of intimidating. I love how you do these little activities, like coming up with the powers for us (soon to be revealed), having us do sort of thematic appearance changes, getting those 'tarot cards' previews done (chef's kiss) checking up how we are.

Similar to what's been said, I would like more space for interactions between PC characters, because as much as I'd like to get to, well, the proper isekai part or however you'd call it, I feel like there's been a lot of us just getting to the next scene. So even though I feel very comfortable with the pacing as far as posts go (thanks for giving us all the time we need to write), the content has been progressing quite quickly so far. But fair point that you were afraid of losing interest before getting to the meaty part. Probably the whole 'meeting with the princess' is that, uh, checkpoint for getting into it...?

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment - On Hiatus

Damon Howard

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Sitting cross-legged, Damon peeled off his holey socks. Though he wasn’t being careless, per se, his clawed fingers made additional punctures in the cloth. “Hm.” This could be a hassle.

With all the otherworldly, fantastic things going on, it was simpler to focus on the most mundane concerns – at least until he got his bearings.

Huffing, he balled up the socks, pushed them into the shoes, grabbed the sneakers and picked himself up.

The ground was really soft, and pleasant to burrow his toes into. The dewy grass was cool, but not uncomfortably so.

The Song still beckoned them, and Damon looked around to try and find its source.

However, he was distracted by Odaya, who began laughing at them all. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s this world’s idea of a joke,” he retorted to her remark, rolling his eyes. Maybe it was because he’d been one of those acting as a demon in that one play. Or it was a terrible pun on his name.

…Possibly it was something melodramatic about how he viewed himself, or how he thought others did.

But there were much more fun and wondrous things to think about.

At Audrey’s prompting, a tall, thin man approached them. He was a tad vampiric, but the strangest thing about him was that scar. The youth stared at it for a long, moment, before realizing that was probably rude. Then, his gaze settled on the glowing collar-like symbol.

Which was likely also impolite, so he looked into the man’s eyes instead.

But, just then, the guy bowed to them. Really low.

And, wow, that was a lot of hair to manage.

When Eckehart rose up, Damon gave him a bemused nod, then felt prompted to bow in return. It was shallower, and less refined, the kind he’d given to Odaya what felt like forever ago. “Hello…?” he greeted with an awkward smile.

All sorts of questions were trying to bubble to the surface. “Is that from an injury?” Since his thoughts were so disordered, perhaps it was inevitable that the first one to emerge was inappropriate. “Uhhh…” his cheeks coloured as Damon forced himself to ignore that scar. “Sorry, never mind that.” Sheepish, he looked away. His gaze was drawn to the dragon. “Is that…? Are they….Ru-la-ni-a?” he carefully worded the name. He wasn’t all that certain about his guess, but he was sure that the dragon was at least somehow related.

Emboldened now that they had a guide – that they weren’t just entirely unto themselves in a strange new world – Damon followed after Eckehart. He had to move somewhere between a quick walk and a light jog to catch up, but didn’t seem bothered by that. “True Voice?” he questioned. He assumed that's what that Song was. “Do you hear it, too?” He really hoped ‘all would become clear’, because in stories, cryptic remarks like that weren’t usually followed by immediate explanations.

He glanced at Zeke when the teen said this seemed suspiciously good. “It is a weird situation,” Damon had to acknowledge. Weird didn’t even begin to describe it. And, if it weren’t all so beautiful, enthralling, and enchanting, maybe he would call out the strangeness; compare it to a kidnapping scheme, or some cult thing.

But when the Song was so sweet, how could it be bad?

Freyja pranced past him, remarking that at least he didn’t have hooves. “You got used to those fast, though,” Damon pointed out, amused.

They delved from the island into the city. It was a city unlike any he’d ever seen, but there were building, roads, bridges, stalls…It was recognizable, just foreign. The roofs were vibrantly coloured, some buildings had no edges he could see, and some were overgrown by foliage – or made in the hollows of trees and the like? There were numerous shopkeeps peddling their wares, and people – beings? – were dancing, and drinking, and buying, and watching…

He didn’t know if there was a single ‘human’ there, though many were humanoid. A charming dark gray lady, long tail swooshing behind her, pink tufts on its end; her long light gray hair braided and beflowered, a light almost see-through dress adorning her. A cheerful white-haired boy perching on a thin laundry line, huge white wings folded behind him. A being of unknowable age and gender, who was all fire, and magma. A green male naga. A chunky, furry, horned and teethed and multi-eyed thing (person?) who could walk on all fours or stood up on their hind legs to tower over everyone else.

Some of them had the same symbol as Eckehart, and each of them bowed. Damon nodded and waved to each of them in return.
But from all of those, their guide was the only one receiving gifts. So, maybe, he was the senior herald? Still, if these beings were special, then what about them, whom Eckehart had called honoured guests? If they were all chosen, or called here for some reason…They must be important, too.

Why them? And for what purpose?

Maybe they were about to find out.

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment - On Hiatus

Added Yo'bikur form to CS, very slightly edited because I've decided on a different pic than I initially thought.

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment - On Hiatus

Damon Howard

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Theirs was the last performance before the main ceremony. It was a sort of preview of the ritual, except they acted out the other side of it. The unruly demons to be subjugated, the lake waters to be calmed, then the flames cavorting atop the waters and in the skies.

It was mostly through music, dance, and body language that they conveyed the play to their audience. Scant lines were spoken or sung – though those few were all the more poignant and memorable for it.

The beginning was ominous, creeping; the waters surged and spilled, bringing forth with it monstrous beings.

Some in the background played the scared villagers, dressed in outdated casual wear. The lake were several people, dressed in robes shaded a multitude of greens, blues, and even dark purples. The remaining few were the demons; wearing thick furry hides, gruesome masks covering their faces.

The villagers were chased away. The robed folk spun and spun; a devouring whirlpool which would take and take. In the middle, the monsters; waiting, stalking, pushing the water’s edge further out.

The circle of robes widened until person by person, they dispersed offstage.

The harbingers of doom left to their own devices. They stomped, and they ruined; heavy boots thumping across the wooden floorboards as they danced. It was a facsimile of chaos; practiced coordination giving rise to something seemingly unpredictable. Something dangerous. Low, growling hums accompanied it; a wordless song of discontent.

But then, something changed; a procession arrived, and with it, a transition in the music. Two rows of darkly clothed people came on; pair by pair. Monks, each with a khakkhara of their own. Clearly ringing; neat and orderly. A chanting started; from an inaudible murmur, gradually rising in volume.

The numerous priests accomplished what in reality, Freyja was supposed to (believed to) do. The actual sealing procession was considered far too sacred to be mimicked in a play. Thus, it’d been replaced with something similar.

Strange, wasn’t it? When even for the most superstitious, including monsters wasn’t too much?

But then again, maybe the creatures were too fantastical, after all – or imagined so differently, that it was fine.

As all good endings require, evil was vanquished. The devils fled. The monks, then, could leave too.

The full moon watched, still and silent.

Then, the actors returned, now all robed. What followed was the most intricate scene yet; a fabulous finale.

Some wore the blue-greens of the lake, others the fiery orange-reds of light. They swayed and they danced; but then, when some held hands, the roles switched. They turned over their clothing, the other side bearing different colours. The effect was mesmerizing, as roles changed at a moment’s notice.

When it was all over, they were met with thunderous applause. Faces shining with awe, exhilaration, pure joy.
That was one of the best feelings in the world, Damon thought.

He was just as jubilant to attend the actual ceremony even as only an observer, however. The ritual of it resonated somewhere deep inside.

But then, something went wrong, and it all started feeling unreal.

Even though he’d been so absorbed in it that he’d genuinely felt it was all true – the demons, the sealing – he couldn’t help but think–

Wasn’t this…just a story?

He broke into a cold sweat, and shivered. Goosebumps formed over all his body, and he rubbed his naked arms. The knowledge that something went terribly, dreadfully awry brought with it shock and horror.

But then the song appeared.

First, it seemed just like one voice; now deep, then high. But no, it was a multitude; a whole chorus.
Damon couldn’t tear his gaze away from the fantastical scene occurring atop the lake. He was aghast and amazed at once. Unknowingly, he took a hesitant step forward–

Then he was swallowed up by the water, managing one last panicked breath…But he didn’t hold out for long.

***

He gasped, and found himself half-submerged in an otherworldly lake. The air was so clear, it was almost too sharp; the water so pure, he wondered if it really was just water.

He coughed and spluttered, and dragged himself out. He looked wildly around, and saw all sorts of unbelievable things. Various beings; familiar as they were not. He saw Odaya the crow looking up.

Looked up himself.

Saw a dragon.

And was left gaping open-mouthed.

It took some time for anything else to enter his awareness. When something did, it was David’s question. “Missing?” he questioned hysterically. “We are the missing ones.”@Conscripts

He sighed tremulously, and looked down. His gaze settled on the lake, and almost numbly, he took in the changes to his own form.

His hair was now longer, pitch black but with (super?)natural highlights of blood red. Elongated, pointed ears peeked through. His canines were sharper, too. A pair of ivory white horns curled from atop his forehead. His pupils were slit – like a cat’s, or some snakes’ – and his irises were so strange. There were all sorts of colours there. Each time he tilted his head or tried to take a closer look, they shifted. It took a few flashes of silver – the only consistent thing – for him to realize that they reflected the environmental hues. He went to brush through his thicker mane, but was stopped by two things.

One. His fingernails were now matte black and clawed.

Two. There were these strange broken up lines on his (still pale) skin; spidery, thin, light gray – barely visible, but definitely there.

Like cracks seeping through.

A part of him was tempted to lift up his shirt to check how far they spread.

The other part didn’t want to know.

What the fuck? he thought wildly.

And also, At least it’s not on my face?!

Shifting to sit on his knees, Damon went to splash some water on his face. “Gods…” he muttered.

Finally, he tried picking himself up. But something was off. His shoes felt uncomfortably tight. There was an ominous scratching sound as he moved.

Suspicion arising, he took off his sneakers.

Yeah. His feet bore claws too, now.

And his socks were ruined. Great.

Hearing Ambrose’s remark, Damon snorted. “…I could use some nail clippers, here,” he snarked.@psych0pomp

Then he shot another look at the dragon. “Seems chill,” he commented to no one in particular.

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment - On Hiatus

Wrote some today. Will see if I can finish tomorrow.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

	Attire: No cloak Time: 1:00 pm Location: The Library -> Outside of the castle Mention(s): Interaction(s):

The first thing Wulfric did after Alibeth left was figure out how to get back into the hidden room. It wasn’t that difficult once he knew it was there.

Yes…Once he knew. There was a clear problem with that.

What else do I not know which I should? Which other secrets? What other information?

Clearly, his mother knew much more about the situation than she was saying. That ‘mastermind’, for example. She’d said proxies, as in plural, yet suspected there was one person behind all or most such spies? This went so far and beyond just this one afterparty…

Wulfric had already suspected as much, but the involvement of magic made this all the more deeply concerning.

Why didn’t she tell me more? Why not earlier?

Wulfric sighed. He did know the answer to that. She simply didn’t trust him as much as he’d thought she did, nor as much as he wished she did.

He supposed it was also an indicator that he should be more proactive about finding out.

Fine then. It’s not as if he there was anything he couldn’t do once he set his mind to it.

He could be more observant. Act with more forethought and awareness. Use all resources available to their full extent.

Whatever else his mother might be waiting till ‘the appropriate moment’ to inform him of? He’d make it so that when she tried, he’d already know.

You’ll see…I’ll surpass you.

He clenched a fist, and for a moment, stared at where he’d last seen her, a glint of vicious determination in his gaze.

Then, he made his way out of the magical archive, as he’d dubbed it, and closed the hidden entrance. He could get back here when he liked, now. He’d discuss this with Auguste at some point, but for now, he had a more immediate issue to resolve.

Apparently, Fletcher might run away. Though mother had prevented an execution, she still expected him to die in a subsequent chase. However, it seemed she wouldn’t bother preventing his escape from the castle. That left enough leeway to try and keep him alive and safe, like Callum asked for.

However…

Wulfric did also want to gauge the man’s mental state for himself.

For now, it’d be best to have Darryn secured somewhere. Have him watched, maybe have a professional assess him. He’d also have to be made at least comfortable enough not to feel like recklessly (and unknowingly) running straight towards his own doom.

So, he’d have to pick someone lax enough not to threaten the stableboy (much), yet someone motivated to follow even such a strange order right.

The prince hummed to himself.

Oh, he had just someone in mind. Whichever fools had let in that foreign warrior with his arsenal of weapons…Yes, they would do.

It didn’t take long to find them, and set them on a new assignment.

In the end, there wasn’t too great of a delay before he departed the castle.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Alibeth & Wulfric

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There was a knock on Wulfric’s bedroom door.

"Wulfric?" His mother’s voice called out from her spot at the door. With the way the events had been, she felt it was better to tell her son the truth now rather than later. Telling him was one thing, however. His reaction would be another.

Wulfric had just recently arrived to his bedroom, after having retrieved his sabre; especially after a spar, it really did feel more fitting to have it than not. He’d attended to some minor matters, like checking up on his appearance. But mostly, he had been considering the merits and demerits of open versus concealed carry. He had just been trying on his slimmest thigh holster and most compact dagger when there was a knock on his door. Adjusting his tunic over the recent addition, he faced the entrance.

At the sound of his mother’s voice, he replied, "Coming." He strolled to the door, and opened it. Her face told him much the same as her tone had; she was in quite a different mood from when they’d last met. She struck him as trying to be careful. "Hello, mother," he greeted, studying her expression openly. "Shall we speak here or elsewhere?" He asked because she obviously had something she wanted to talk about.

"Hello, Wulfric. I invite you to accompany me." She spoke immediately in a composed manner. Alibeth then turned and proceeded down the hall, the tap of her heels echoing with purpose. After a brief moment, she halted at the terminus of the corridor and inclined her head backward, her gaze meeting his. "It will be worth your time."

Her son quirked up a brow at her curiously, but stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him. He had intended to attend the race - and not purely for entertainment’s sake. He wished to stress to Lorenzo the importance of not messing up again. However, the man would be far too busy with announcing for a while yet. And, in the end, even if Wulfric missed out on the chance to speak to him, then he could count on Auguste to handle the man while they dined with the Sultan.

Saying nothing of his schedule to the queen, he went after her. It struck him as amusing that though she’d issued an invitation, she was clearly leading with an expectation that he would follow. And he did.

He was rather intrigued why she’d sought him out, after all.

By the time her gaze met his, he too, was nearly at the end of the hallway. "I have no doubts that it will be," Wulfric intoned. There was a very subtle hint of something which might become a smile if he allowed it to form. But he did not.

He took the remaining few steps towards her. "Let us, then," he prompted. Though there were some remnants of amusement yet, he kept it in check. His expression smoothed out into a cool neutrality. He matched the gravity of her intent; and as he continued on by her side, so too, did he adjust his pace to hers.

Alibeth escorted Wulfric to the library doors and cautiously pushed them open, scanning the room for any signs of life. Satisfied that it was empty, she turned the lock with a decisive click before making her way to a sunny corner of the room. She approached a bookcase and, after a moment of contemplation, started to fiddle with the books on the top shelves, out of Wulfric's view. Suddenly, the bookcase creaked and swung inward, revealing a hidden passageway. "Wulfric, I presume you have some knowledge of the existence of magic?" she asked, her tone nonchalant as she turned to face him.

Wulfric soon found himself at the library. He was only an occasional visitor here - he had a collection of his favourites right in his office, for one - so it had been some time. They walked among the shelves, and he idly inspected those they passed. Alibeth guided him to a section which, especially compared to its neighbours, was oddly well lit. They stopped near a shelf hosting several historical volumes; he knew those well. Adjacent to it was a bookshelf with fictional novels; he was passingly acquainted.

He watched with some curiosity as his mother reached for the upper shelves of the latter. He shifted, trying to see what she was doing. However, she concealed it. A moment later, a hidden passageway was revealed. Wulfric pondered its inky depths. He hadn’t realized there was such a thing here. Yet, there was the shadow of a memory…He felt as if he had found one of these as a child, elsewhere.

Whether he had or hadn’t, it left him with several questions.

The queen’s next words even more so.

Wulfric’s expression hardened, showing none of his surprise or disquiet. "If you were to term supposition as knowledge," he replied. There was a glint of accusation in his gaze, even as his tone and words were measured. "I thought it might have existed once. I considered it to be of little to no relevance in the present day and age." His eyes narrowed. "Clearly, a mistake," he inferred unhappily.

There was a moment in which he merely looked at her. Then, he tilted his chin at the passageway. "Go on."

"Oh, it is quite relevant." Alibeth replied, with a measured smile, as she firmly shut the door behind them. She led her son down a narrow, stone passageway to a modest room lined with shelves of books, which also housed a writing desk and a simple stool. "Your father is under the impression that all of the books in this castle have been destroyed. However, his lack of exploration belies this notion. I deemed it prudent to preserve these volumes, to serve as a reference in times of uncertainty, such as this."

Lack of exploration indeed, Wulfric thought sourly, because whether his mother meant it as an indirect criticism or not, it did seem to apply to him as well. "So, the previous king was fine having them around, but not Edin?" he asked, trying to get a better understanding of the timeline of events. "Then you preserved some of them - or had them preserved?" The idea that she might have entrusted some minions with something so vital, but not him - not until now - bothered him.

"I simply meant that I decided not to destroy the books upon discovery. I have no knowledge of their purpose or truly who knew of their presence here." Alibeth had clarified to Wulfric upon his question.

With practiced ease, she then swiftly selected a tome, well aware of its contents. "You must exercise utmost caution when handling these books. All magic comes at a cost, even those that appear innocuous." She flipped to the page of memory spells. "A plethora of options really. It’s absurd to accept logically every single one of them got too inebriated to remember not one thing that occurred…" Her gaze slid to her son, hand still on the book, "In due course, you will find yourself consulting these books as a means of comprehending situations that defy explanation. When something seems inexplicable, it is often the result of magic, and as you will discover, it can be a force to contend with." Alibeth subsequently studied her son’s reaction before commenting further.

Wulfric stepped close enough to read the book segment she indicated, since she was trying to point out something to him. He raised a brow at what he saw. "Memory…" he pondered. Yes, magic was an option, perhaps even the likelier one. However. "Is there a way to discern for certain if this - or any given act - was done by magical rather than mundane means?"

He had long thought that people had this irrational tendency to consider something inexplicable merely because they personally couldn’t explain it. Then, they attributed it to something beyond their understanding; to something supernatural. Even knowing that magic existed didn’t change his opinion all that much. One could still over-rely on magic. Rely on it as the means with which to accomplish something. And rely on it as the source of explanation for something.

"Previously, I had suspected poison, drugs, or a combination thereof. Could it not be that instead? Or what if it is also that?" Though he was being very pragmatic about it all, a spark of curiosity had been ignited within him. Wulfric turned an intrigued look on his mother. "It would be convenient if we could detect magic. It users, its victims…" He once again peered down at the page of memory spells, thoughtful. "Also…is it possible to undo or ‘cure’ magical afflictions? A way to restore lost memories, for example." He then straightened up, and blinked at Alibeth as something occurred to him. "And please, do not take this to mean that I am inclined to use magic."

Alibeth smiled at her son's inquiry, pleased with his level of intellect and inclination to consider all options. "If all the individuals had displayed similar symptoms when they were discovered, I would have concurred," she said, closing the book. "However, I took care to observe each and every one of their physical and mental states, as well as that of others who exited from the gathering. The symptoms varied greatly. You could attempt to persuade me to believe it was a drug den with a multitude of options for them, alas I have my doubts."

Her narrowed gaze fell on Wulfric as her tone grew icy with him, "While magic can be detected, it requires a spell to do so. I have a strong aversion towards casting spells and so should you."

Wulfric didn’t sigh, though he wanted to. "Did I not ask you not to accuse me of a desire for witchcraft? I am no mage nor do I wish to be one…" He went to lean against the writing desk, nonchalantly scanning the shelves full of magical knowledge. "I suppose this is why you haven’t told me until you felt like you absolutely had to." Though he’d attempted to be entirely neutral, the slightest hint of bitterness slipped through.

Alibeth smirked at his retort. However, she had more to say when it came towards the second remark. There had been another reason why she had withheld the information, although she did not speak immediately upon this.

"You know…" his gaze landed on hers. "I imagine I might prefer a world without magic." He cocked his head to the side. "But this is not that world." He paused for a brief moment. "And though there have obviously been attempts to eradicate it…It is still here, is it not?" He arched a brow pointedly.

"... I would prefer the same…You'll find, Wulfric, that there is no need for magic in order to extract a confession. Morrigan and our other interrogation tools are quite proficient in their craft. The chamber I provided them in the dungeon is protected from spell use. It was in such a state before I even arrived."

The queen met Wulfric’s eyes and declared coldly, "Our methods have consistently proven successful in eliciting confessions, after which the individuals are dealt with accordingly."

"Far be it for me to doubt the efficiency of torture," Wulfric declared with dry amusement, and his lips twitched up into a brief smirk. "But it rather requires that we capture the target first. And the one this time is already proving elusive - after all, there was neither hide nor hair of anyone or anything you could have taken back with you by the time you arrived at the warehouse, was there?" A curt nod from the queen confirmed his hypothesis.

A slightly longer exhale followed that confirmation. "I have some ideas on how to corner them, and I am certain so do you. But my point is…This enemy of ours is fully willing to use magic. And if their aim truly is sabotage? Inciting chaos? Maybe even to reveal to the world this power of theirs? That kind of damage…It should be prevented. And no, I shan’t say ‘at any and all cost’, because it would be ridiculous for us to needlessly escalate, and inadvertently create an uncontrollable situation."

He looked away, the icy blue of his irises affixing on a random tome. A fist clenched by his side. "But this idea that someone, somewhere - anyone, anywhere - could and would use magic…For who knows what aims…That they could harm us, while we all here are so utterly vulnerable, so helpless…I detest it," he confessed.

"Oh, the situation is even graver than you perceive." She had no words of comfort for her son. "I believe this mastermind may be using others to bear the costs of magic use for him more often than not…" Alibeth spoke with a clear, unwavering voice, her eyes scanning the book titles as she paced amongst the shelves.

"That does not surprise me," Wulfric noted. "Undoubtedly, those proficient in magic have found ways to bypass the cost, one way or another."

She was rather nonchalant despite the dire situation she was describing. "The man I had burnt at the stake today was one of the pawns. He was quite transparent that he would make a spectacle of himself as he met his end, much to my satisfaction." The queen paused to consider the order of the details she wanted to present to her son for a moment. Alibeth turned from view then pulled an eyeglass from a concealed area on her person. She turned back to face him and presented it for his viewing. "I have an enchanted spyglass here, Wulfric. Before I tell you what it does, I’d like to give you a foundation of knowledge."

Wulfric hummed at the brief summary of the execution. "...Let’s just keep it away from the level of a witch hunt, shall we?" he offered, tone as casual as hers.

"No need for one. They always come to me eventually."

Then, she showed him a spyglass. For one who professed to be ‘strongly averse’ to spells, she seemed to have no issue handling magical tools. Thus, he had to wonder whether she did have experience actively casting magic. And if she did, how extensive it was. "Certainly," he assented to her suggestion easily.

"Very well," Alibeth stated as she retrieved a thin book from the shelf. The book, titled "Starcatcher," featured an illustration of the sun and moon on its cover. Alibeth flipped to chapter two. "You may have already noticed a pull toward these books that cannot be explained. This is due to the idea that magic supposedly is attracted toward ambition. The more ambitious you are, the more powerful your magic may be." Her eyes met his, then she stepped aside for him to read.

Wulfric took the book, and flipped it to the beginning. The foreword was quaint and catchy. "Take too much from me; I will take everything from you," he quoted, mildly amused. Out of context, it was quite the vengeful statement. In context, he questioned if the author had meant that she, personally, would take, or that magic would, because it always took its due. Probably the latter, though the former had some uncomfortable implications too.

"With love and hope for a better world," he concluded with some sarcasm. Did you truly believe this? Or were you simply using it as an excuse? Either way… He wasn’t sure if magic ultimately could better the world. He was inclined to think it depended on how one used it, however…

"Curious individual, this one, hm?" he remarked, as he briefly glanced up at his mother. She simply smirked.

He then quickly read through the introduction in the first chapter. "Addictive nature," he said with firm disapproval.

Even more swiftly, he perused the book’s spells, just to get a feel of what magic could do. "Most of these can be accomplished by mundane means," he commented on the novice spells. "And who the hell would willingly lose a memory forever?" he exclaimed suddenly, indignant. Wulfric shook his head in disbelief, then continued going through the book.

Of the intermediate spells, tracking did appeal to him, but unless one knew the person well, one would require something of theirs regardless. Too, he wanted to know if it was possible to protect oneself from such magical spying.

"Enchantments…" he sighed, aware that it would be entirely too easy to grow paranoid thinking of the ways in which one might be affected by magic.

He raised a brow at some of the magics pertaining to the body. "Admittedly, the idea of facing and overcoming a challenge like this is intriguing," he noted.

He was drawn towards the protective spells - however, the costs were downright daunting.

Finally, he returned to the second chapter. He read this one thoroughly.

"A bond between this book, the magical plane, and your body," he quoted, baffled. This concept of a bond or a connection between oneself and magic…It seemed altogether strange. He didn’t even know what to begin to think of a ‘magical plane’.

"Calls out to the ambitious or to the addict?" he criticized openly.

"Magicae…Witchblood…Dark witches," he mouthed the unfamiliar terms, assimilating them.

Then, he once again faced his mother, and turned the book towards her, still open on the second chapter. "Try not to take this the wrong way…But did you test out this…magical affinity?" he asked, a bit awkward since magic and terms associated with it were still unfamiliar to him. "Or were you suggesting I should?" he tagged on. Though she’d already scolded him once for proposing use of spells, he was getting some strong mixed messages here.

"I have performed magic before." Alibeth admitted without batting an eyelash. "As I said, I do not prefer to. I have dabbled foolishly in my youth and I have also cast protection spells on my children when they were born. Much of the rooms within the castle are already imbued with magical protections, however, it was done so long ago that it would take an expert practitioner to spot the magic."

"Hm, well, it is a relief to know that our fortress enjoys such protections," he commented as he closed the Starcatcher book and set it on the table.

"I do not suggest you should unless it is important. Though I do suggest understanding magic as much as you can." She held up the spyglass again, "My sister and I came upon a number of trinkets one day. This was one of them." She came to stand at her son’s side and held the spy glass up to his eye. She moved her arm out in front of him. He would see a thick green aura of light and moving energy around her arm.

"Your sister," Wulfric repeated curiously, as he looked through the presented item. He noted the green colour, and the density of the energy, and supposed it was indicative of his mother’s magicae.

"Mutatio." A cloth on the table began to change from yellow to white as Alibeth cast the spell with a mere touch of her finger. As Wulfric observed through the spyglass, he would see the energy grow and then shrink, signifying the loss of energy during the spell's casting. "When someone casts a spell or takes from their magicae reservoir, it causes a shift in their energy that can be perceived through this eyeglass. When many spells are cast in one area, it can even create a pull effect towards those who are particularly active in their magic use, as if their energy is drawn to the spell casting. At the execution I attended today, I was able to witness such an effect with Cameron's magic use. Some even feared him and cast protection spells."

"So this is that widespread," he commented. Though, he could hardly fault anyone for wanting to protect themselves from magic.

He peered through the spyglass inquisitively, trying to detect if any trace of magic remained within the bespelled tablecloth. He then brought up his own hand in front of the enchanted item, wanting to see his own magicae. His was also green.

Then, he regarded his mother. "Are humans the only ones in the natural world with magical energy?" he wondered.

"I suppose even animals have their desires." After a moment of reflection, she added, "One need not worry excessively about the possibility of an apocalypse. Magic has been a part of our world for as long as we can remember and yet, here we stand. Even those who send their proxies, such as Darryn, seem to have limitations. If the mastermind behind such actions holds as much power as we fear, one may wonder why there has never been a large-scale move made. Why are we still here?" These questions, though asked aloud, seem to have a rhetorical tone to them, suggesting that Alibeth may already have an inkling of the answers.

"I am not worried about an apocalypse…more so about the political implications." He didn’t like her allegations against Darryn, but was momentarily distracted by thinking about her last question. It was quite philosophical, in a sense, though he was sure she’d meant it practically. "It must be because they couldn’t have…" he eventually settled on.

Then Wulfric pinned her with a look. "You say Fletcher is a proxy?"

A frosty laugh escaped Alibeth's lips as she sneered, "You mean to say you thought your sister was a master seductress…?"

Yes, yes. So hilarious, mother. Shall I bow down to your no doubt superior understanding? He kept the sarcasm to himself, lips pursing. "She has, in fact, seduced numerous individuals," he stated neutrally. Moving on, he prompted, "So. Fletcher?" And, because he did want more information, "What all do you know about this case?"

Alibeth grimaced at Wulfric’s initial words. The topic of her daughter was not one she wished to address, but her thoughts turned to the matter at hand. Being no challenge to men does not always mean one is alluring. Something must be done to rectify her revolting behavior.

"Darryn showed signs indicative of overuse of magic during the period of his interrogation. His behavior had been atypical before anything had even been done. His eyes did briefly glow as well. Furthermore, he confessed to working for someone, however, we were unable to obtain the identity of this person." Alibeth explained. "I figure he’s attempting to flee about now. Certainly, he will be pursued by not only us but whoever his master is. I reckon we’ve seen the last of him."

"Us?" Wulfric was clearly disapproving. "If we are chasing after him, it shouldn’t be to target him, but whoever is after him." Their priority wasn’t a runaway stableboy, but whoever he could lead them to. Besides, he had a promise to keep, even if Fletcher was more of a risk than he’d thought him to be. Then, because it was relevant, he added, "If the person he is working for and the party’s host are one and the same, then it might be Marek Delronzo. According to that meddler Hendrix, anyhow…But it should not be too difficult to confirm this."

She placed the eyeglass in his hand and turned to leave. Though she had obviously heard him, she had not verbally acknowledged anything he said. She did, however, pause for just a moment. "If you plan to attend the horse race, keep an eye out for me…Oh and also, keep your other eye on Lady Mina Blackwood. Something’s strange about her."

Wulfric seemed as if he were about to say something, but closed his mouth, accepted the item, and pocketed it. "Very well."

Expedition to Isekai [Short-Term Dungeon Delving]

Yeah, maybe.

Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment - On Hiatus

Amusingly enough, when dealing with Damon, I actually have to restrain quite a bit of my literary bullshit. There's no way Weasel would be quoting Shakespeare like I keep trying to do lmao. This is a unique conundrum of my writing habits I didn't expect to run into (theatrical shit talking), but is pleasing.

@Fading Memory

On the other hand, it's not the kind of thing I usually do at all...as good of a time as any to try.