Event Nineteen.

[awashmods]

Shall I compare thee to a blasting hot stove? Thou art more scary and more perilous; As thou sit above thy towering treasure trove, Thy breath is bad and thy voice garrulous.

t's yet another day in which a bunch of people ended up in the bottom of the well. It's very, very cold down there, though spring is at least slowly starting to make itself known -- But the people in the Town who would usually come save you might be a little distracted today by the glimmer of scales on the ground, and the unfortunate side effects that come along with them. Don't worry, friends in the well -- as soon as you haul yourself out via magic powers or that convenient rope ladder dangling down into the water, you too can join in the chaos of picking up those sparkly, pretty scales. Welcome to Awash's Nineteenth event log, everyone! Further information on this event can be found here at the OOC post. You are welcome to make your own logs and posts for this event! If there are any questions, please ask them here. Thank you!

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[sirnyxalot]

[If Nyx had to choose his reunion with Sierra, it probably wouldn't have been while at his lowest (unable to properly defend himself), right as he manages to haul his battered body from the well. It had to be the longest climb in his entire life: One-handed, pain wracking his every nerve. But he's nothing if not stubborn, and soon he's lying on the ground next to the well, panting.

His head's swimming, and his body feels so much colder than it did half an hour ago. Without thinking much about it he presses his right hand to his chest and focuses. Surely he's still got something left, right? Chroma preserved his magic last time.

Green sparks flare around him abruptly as Cure sinks into his bones. For a moment the spell brings relief--the chills subside and his body starts to no longer feel like one giant bruise--but then the scars up his throat burn sharply and he groans, rolling onto his side to clutch at the wound.

The scars smolder angrily, the lightning branches glowing red, and Nyx makes a very firm note that everything ever is a bad idea. He takes a minute to adjust to the pain as the backlash settles, and for once he's grateful for how cold it's been in Chroma this winter. The air makes him feel less like a walking furnace.

Nyx exhales and pushes himself to his feet, charred left arm hanging uselessly at his side, and runs his other hand through his hair shakily.]

No magic. Thanks, your majesties. [Bitter.

Not that he has long to dwell as abruptly there is a bat in his face, squeaking angrily like he'd done something to personally offend it. Alarmed, Nyx nearly falls back over in his attempt to gain some distance, and sluggishly tries to swat the creature away from him.]

What the six?!

[regrede]

[ the red had been more than enough to draw her attention. like fire, it was, bright and unique against the dreary backdrop of the town, no matter how much it’s changed. it was a fire outside the decisions of this place, and that caught her attention more than the person wearing those scars. that is, at least until he speaks, and sierra flaps back, hard, of her own volition.

in an instant, she’s back on her human feet, the shock showing on her face just for a moment before she schools herself down to a more dignified surprise. ]

Nyx?

[ she’d thought he’d disappeared, but this looks much worse than that. ]

[sirnyxalot]

[He carefully lowers his hand, watching Sierra with a mixture of caution and concern. It takes him a moment to adjust to the fact that he's no longer being bombarded, and he looks her up and down to make sure she's real.

Nyx idly bemoans that he's in no position to play any of her word games right now, and grins.]

Last I checked it's still me, if a bit crispy.

[At least his spell had cleared some of the bruises and he probably won't collapse on her, but it's not worth the effort to pretend he's actually okay.]

Did you miss me, my lady?

[regrede]

You ask me as if I wouldn’t have.

[ luckily, with the magic no longer pulsing hot red across his skin, sierra can hold down the urge to try to snatch anything up. her hoard is, in fact, momentarily forgotten—she vaguely knew that people could return to this town even after leaving completely, but she didn’t think it would look like this. ]

…have you considered sitting down?

[ with just a touch of haste, worried but pretending not to be. ]

[sirnyxalot]

[His grin grows warmer, less posturing, and his shoulders droop a little in defeat. He's so tired.]

The thought crossed my mind, but I only just managed to get up. Wherever I sit now is gonna be permanent.

[regrede]

Hm.

[ a hum, with more humor than worry now, because it seems like even if he’s tired he’s still himself. sierra just wishes there were something she could do for him, but she’s no healer. even her darkness rune won’t help him. ]

Maybe that’s not a bad thing, in your shape.

[sirnyxalot]

You think the well'd be an attractive look for me?

[He stretches out his damaged fingers absently, tendons tights and uncomfortable, and rests his elbow in his other hand. It's quickly becoming apparent that making it home from here might be beyond him at the moment.]

[regrede]

I think you could make anything work.

[ sierra offers it because it’s fun and he seems in the mood for flirting, if only a little, but—the point is that he can’t stay stuck here in the elements, and sierra doesn’t feel good about just letting him wander off alone, either. their options are limited. ]

I don’t suppose you’re interested in becoming a vampire, hm?

[sirnyxalot]

[The question makes him pause. Other than what Sierra has told him Nyx has very little experience with vampires. They're not from his world. He didn't know it was something that could be passed on.]

What does that mean? Be like you?

[regrede]

Not exactly like me, but you certainly wouldn’t be able to die from a little scratch.

[ she downplays his clear exhaustion only to compare it to the endless power of being a vampire—but even if he did ask her for it, she’s not sure she really could morally give it out. turning someone she barely knew ended up much worse than she could have imagined, the last time she did it. ]