Blood on the Moon, A Journey of Discovery Options

[D.Foxy]

Ohh! Ohhh! Oh-oh-oh! That piece of her tail was so sweet, it still has a taste in my mouth....there's even some hair there....Oh, oh, oh, the taste...



...Er...


...Um...


...what?

Why are you looking at me like that! I meant that the tale was soo good, even the hair-raising lycanthrophy scenes left a taste in my mouth...

(anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it).



(And that's what happens when Foxy channels the spirits of Mai and Cai!)

Dhertee Innuendo and Joking aside, this is one of the most enjoyable, riveting, and beautifully - balanced - between - humour and horror pieces of writing I have had the pleasure of reading for a long time.

Hooray....and please, Sirs, may I have some more?

[McBadgere]

If my typing goes awry, I apologise...I sliced my finger open on summat earlier and my plaster is making typing...A challenge... ...

Absolutely amazing stuff...Sooo heartrending...

Most excellent...*Applauds*...Merely in the sense of haunting and terrifyingly scary type of way you understand... ...

Loving (in the sense...Blah blah...) the Hircine dialogue...Very Godly...Likes a good God do I... ..

Brilliantly done...

Nice one!!... ...

[Olen]

Very nicely written. I like the slightly feverish quality it has starting with a memory which faded into reality and the swing of emotion between them. It captured, without being blatant, that as well as suffering the assault of Hircine she is also ill with it.

stalked my blood

the burning as the bad blood mixed with the good

The blood metaphors were particularly effective. The first has a lot to it too with the connotations of hunting. Very nice.

The memory set up Serene's voice well, which also gave even more of an ipression of a fever dream.

I second Badger - Brilliantly done.

This post has been edited by Olen: Jan 15 2012, 05:35 PM

[minque]

Ok...Ok...Ok...after reading this part the third time, I still don't know what to say! Everything I come to think of sounds like clichees....hmmm I'll start with a big WOW...then what?

I wonder..who are the REAL mind readers here? Treydog? Athynae? Or both of you? Because that is what it must be, it must! How else could you know how I am thinking about Serene's child? How I wish her to be, to think to act!

The memory from her childhood....haha...right on spot! You even mentioned her siblings...WOW....

This part really got to me, I just sit here shaking my head....

And Athynae....you WILL get a new part of Serene's journal.....

Mmmmmmmm

[Grits]

Riveting is the word, the whole way through. I love the way Athynae's memory brought Serene’s calming presence. And then the lady herself spoke up for her daughter!! Wow is right!

[treydog]

Responses from Athynae:

@mALX- Thanks, even though she is a bit scatterbrained right now she is doing her best to keep it straight.

@Foxy- The dhertee innuendo had me in tears, I laughed so hard that day between this and Max my sides hurt the next day. THANK YOU for the compliment, that is high praise coming from one whose skill I admire greatly.

@McB- Thank you so much for reading. It is a bit dark and deep right now but hopefully soon she’ll be out of that cave, either traipsing around in the afterlife or hunting down Hircine….we shall see.

@Olen- I wait at the edge of my seat for your responses, not really for the compliments although I appreciated them TREMENDOUSLY, but to “see” it from your perspective. Thank you so much for reading and sharing, it means so, so much.

@Minque- Thank you. If you are seeing her through my eyes as you wished her to be then I have captured Athynae, your daughter and your conception, and I am elated that I have succeeded in bringing her to you. I WILL hold you to that PROMISE!!! Harassment will commence shortly if you dilly dally, I do still have the balding spell I threatened Trey with all those months ago….just saying.

@Grits- Serene is the ever-present stability that Athynae has to have; without her Athynae would spin totally off of her axis and there is no telling where she would end up. The others- Athlain, Athyn, Baria, and Trey all help with that as well, Mae and Cai are the midnight snack for her insanity, lol. Thanks for reading.

Everyone- I do hope you enjoy the next segment. We are finally coming to the apex of the current conflict. There is something about writing about these deep, dark emotional experiences that my insane mind seems to bask in, but I am looking forward to some lighter moments for her, we are both TIRED.

Author's Note:- A couple of Morrowind differences from Oblivion (or Skyrim). There is NO "quest compass" to point the player toward the goal of the current endeavor. Instead, you are given vague (and sometimes WRONG) directions. That said- there is also no "ground cover" to speak of, so finding a plant on a mountainside is not as difficult as it might seem. Certain other quests- notably for the Imperial Cult- can be frustrating in the extreme.

Where we are: Athynae is locked in a mental and emotional struggle against Hircine- and against her own fears. She was rescued from despair- and worse- by the voice of her mother, Serene. Now it is up to Athlain to climb his own (literal) mountain and to do the bidding of the mysterious Glenmoril Wyrd.

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Sleep was a luxury I could not afford. I knew my family history- and the reputation of the various Daedric deities- well enough to realize that Azura was punctilious. Missing the dawn would mean waiting until dusk- with connotations of “ending” that I did not care to contemplate- or waiting another day and night- time I could not squander. Beyond my fear of missing the dawn, a number of other concerns would have kept me from slumber. Though my sense of Athynae’s thoughts was only that- a sense, it was still enough to tell me that she was engaged in a fight for her very soul and substance. Worse still, she was afraid. That realization shook me. In all the time we had grown up together, I had witnessed ‘Thyna exhibiting the full range of moods and emotions, except for fear. She may have felt it, but she never showed it. I might have panicked then, building the kindling of my own doubt into a raging bonfire, giving myself up to the terror of what might happen. But I did not.

Once more, the gruff words of Senior Trooper Carbo came back to me and steadied me, just as veterans had settled novice Legion officers on a thousand fields:

Whether you are leading ten thousand or standing alone, you have the duty. Mainly, that means keeping your eye on what you need to be doing right now. Don’t pace, don’t fidget. The troops will look to you to decide whether they should be scared or confident. If you just stand still, and look calm, that is usually enough. You are an officer of the Legion and I know you will do your duty.

I had to smile as I remembered his final words on the subject, delivered with a glare:

Because if you don’t I will surely kick your scrawny ar$e all the way to Akavir… SIR!

Therefore, I remained still and pretended a calm that I did not feel, gauging the passage of time by the wood I added to my fire. The stars slid by overhead, and I rose every so often to check their positions, as well as those of the waxing moons. At last, I gathered the potions I thought I would need and put out the fire. In the light of the dying embers, I traced ‘Thyna’s script on each label, wishing it was the curve of her cheek.

Using levitation in the darkness and over unfamiliar ground was dangerous, but I was willing to take that risk to buy time and distance. Besides, the only cliff racer I had encountered on Solstheim was a trophy, hanging from the rafters of the Great Hall in the Skaal village. And for once, the ever-present snow was a help rather than a hindrance. The contrast between dark sky and white ground told me when I had reached the summit of Hvitkald. Floating within a foot or so of the ground, I turned my face to the east and waited.

That high on the slope, the wind never completely stopped, and I was just as glad when the potion’s effect dissipated and let me drop to the ground. An almost imagined lightness appeared in the eastern sky, followed by a rose-colored glow. The edge of Magnus emerged, and threw a long shadow behind me. I turned to see the snow being lit with hues of red and orange- and still I waited. There was a sound like a chime from somewhere, everywhere, nowhere- and a beam of light flashed into a sheltered alcove. Within was a plant such I had never before seen, one that stood higher than my knees, adorned with a single purple bloom. The leaves of the plant itself were dark green and ragged, not surprising given the fierce conditions in which it grew. The light shone on the plant and the sound of the chime rose in volume until I fell to my knees before the last wolfsbane on Solstheim.

With numb lips I whispered, “I thank you for this blessing, my Lady of the Dusk and Dawn.”

Before I moved to harvest the plant, I considered carefully what Fallaise had said- she needed only the petals. I would have been reluctant to uproot and destroy an unknown plant in any event; Mother’s gardening and Father’s alchemy had ingrained conservation in me. Examination showed that there were nine petals; I wondered how many the Glenmoril sister required. A voice seemed to urge me to caution, and so I decided on a fair division- using ‘Thyna’s silver dagger, I took three for Fallaise, left three upon the plant- and the last three I put away in my apothecary bag. The wind dropped away and I thought I heard a sigh that was as large as the sky itself. Something within me- shifted, and I heard a woman’s voice, speaking a single word:

DONE

So clear was the voice that I lurched to my feet and looked around. But there was no one else on that mountainside- at least no one who chose to show herself.

The return to the Altar of Thrond started easily enough; I imbibed a second potion of levitation and willed myself back toward the east and the rising sun. The increased height showed me a large number of wolves, bears, and Rieklings in the vicinity, and I vowed that I would be careful to avoid them as much as I could. And so I did, but was nevertheless battered, bloodied, and weary by the time I attained the shelter of the standing stones. Some force or power had to have driven the creatures of the island, for their attacks were more ferocious than ever. The hunting calls of the wolves were answered from near and far, by other wolves but by the growling of bears and the grunting of Riekling steeds. I only battled those I could not avoid, pushing always back to the east and south, where the Glenmoril sister awaited me.

Once I was at the Altar, the raven form appeared and transformed once more into the old woman who called herself Etienne. She said nothing of my appearance or my injuries, asking only:

“And do you have the ingredient my Sister requires?

When I nodded my head yes, her eyes seemed to sharpen and glint before she stilled herself and transported us both back to the cave. The cauldron was bubbling slowly, and the two remaining women circled it slowly, tending the fire and from time to time, adding things to the awful mixture within. Fallaise took the petals I offered without a word, closed her hands over them, and raised them to her mouth. She spoke into the opening between her thumbs, all the while casting sidelong glances my way. What words or even language she spoke I never knew- only that the shadows around the cave seemed to leap and caper in time with the rhythm of her chanting and her black cloak seemed for a moment to be shot with red. At last, she straightened and threw the petals into the cauldron, stirring the brew for several moments and then raising a ladle to examine the color and consistency. She spoke to me then, saying:

“The wolfsbane will infuse our brew with the essence of the wolf. I am impressed that you were able to find it.”

Then, with a grunt of satisfaction, she went back to tending the fire.

Meanwhile, Etienne approached me with the third Sister by her side.

“Now young soldier, my sister Isobel has a task for you. Listen well- the Rite of the Wolf Giver depends upon your doing everything just the way we ask.”

The Sister whose black clothing seemed to shade towards green looked at me for a long moment and then rasped,

“The Rite requires ripened berries of the belladonna. Unripe berries will not do. They grow on the western sides of the Nord burials upon this island. Spriggans have also been known to carry them. I care nothing for how you obtain them- but go and find the berries.”

Dismissed, I left the cave, not having any desire to linger.

These “errands” for the Glenmoril Wyrd were starting to feel like a “green guar hunt,” a prank played on youngsters or newcomers to Vvardenfell. Go and find some belladonna berries- but not just any berries- only the ripe ones. And, just by the way, the best place to find them is on a mound full of not-sufficiently dead Nords, who already have a poor attitude toward the living to begin with.

What would be next- a tail feather from a cliff racer, harvested while the pestiferous creature was still in flight? The buoyant gas of a bull netch, captured in a bottle made of hand-blown volcanic glass, created by a one-eyed glass-blower? But I did not have time to be impatient- I must do as I was told and as quickly as possible. I may have been fresh out of hope, but fear was a strong motivator. As for the berries Isobel wanted, I could go careening across all of Solstheim, stirring up draugr or spriggans- fighting wolves and bears and Nords (live or undead). Or I could just reach into my pack and produce the ones I had already harvested. She had said she “did not care” how I obtained them.

On the other hand, it would probably be wise to act as if it took some time. So I found a convenient tree out of sight of the cave and also out of the wind and settled in to get some needed rest. If I dreamed, I do not remember, but I did awake refreshed. As I had done with the wolfsbane, I held back a portion of the belladonna berries before I presented myself to Isobel. She was more talkative than her sister, giving me a smile that never reached her eyes as she took the berries from me, brushing my hand with her icy fingers.

“You have brought me the berries. Well done.”

She rolled them around in her hand and then… placed them briefly in her mouth before tossing them into the cauldron one by one. The close air of the cave took on a smell of raw earth- and of something else. Isobel spoke again, giving a name to what I had sensed:

“The belladonna berries will sweeten the brew with the taste of death. Speak now to my sister Etienne to learn what you must do next.”

I approached the first sister, the raven-hued one, and she watched me with unblinking eyes.

“So, you have completed the tasks my sisters set you and quickly at that. It is well that you did. We will continue to prepare our brew- our potion- but it is not for drinking! Oh no, young soldier- not at all. It is for something… else. Go now and leave us to our work. Meet me at the Altar of Thrond at midnight, under the light of the moons. I will then tell you what you must do next. Stay away from the cave and from the Altar until then. Certain… preparations have already been made and your premature arrival would disrupt them. The cure is nearly within your grasp, but the final and most difficult steps lie ahead of you.”

[Olen]

That was good, but you know that already. Both the flow of the piece and the actual lines were spot on though. Particularly with the flow I enjoyed the turbulent emotion you put into it. Hope to begin with then gratitude as Azura possibly intervened (which in itself worked - was it luck, was it her, or something else which led him to the right point of the mountain) then though fear to the tired gloom of the wyrd. The spark of Athlain's dry humour really set the piece off. It reflects his emotions and worked to give this section weight and feeling. The humour might not have worked were it not so well imprinted that it is Athlain's way of coping when things start to get beyond him.

Now onto the individual lines, I'll limit myself to three quotes from the massive pastebin I picked out on the second read through.

In the light of the dying embers, I traced ‘Thyna’s script on each label, wishing it was the curve of her cheek.

This was evocative, and captured his fear and loss. Really powerful line.

adding things to the awful mixture within

I quote this because the word awful is so perfect there. It's just a simple description but all the connotations worked and it really tied into the atmosphere and made the scene live.

took on a smell of raw earth- and of something else

Old earth newly turned perhaps? Well not exactly but it put me in mind of Stoker.

This is up there with my favourite parts I think.

[Grits]

Athlain tracing Athynae’s script on the label went straight to the heart. He’s still fighting to avoid losing her, but I can easily see him holding on to some little thing just because it once was hers.

Levitation sounds awesome. I can see why people were angered by the Levitation Act.

Athlain’s discovery of the wolfsbane plant and his careful division of the petals had me holding my breath. Not because I thought something might pounce on him, but the whole scene was just that delicate and beautiful.

How funny that Athlain took us on a mental tirade before admitting that he already had the berries. Hope may be replaced by fear, but Athlain is still Athlain.

I love this episode from start to finish.

[Black Hand]

Now that was descriptive and an evocative display of creepy!

Well done sir! Well done.

I've reread the last posts up too this last one, and it sounds like Athynae has her mothers stub-- willpower. Yes, that the ticket...

[McBadgere]

So excellent!!...

Nice one... ...

Whenever any of the writers add a quote from an earlier time, it always makes me smile...So I absolutely love this bit...

Whether you are leading ten thousand or standing alone, you have the duty. Mainly, that means keeping your eye on what you need to be doing right now. Don’t pace, don’t fidget. The troops will look to you to decide whether they should be scared or confident. If you just stand still, and look calm, that is usually enough. You are an officer of the Legion and I know you will do your duty.

I had to smile as I remembered his final words on the subject, delivered with a glare:

Because if you don’t I will surely kick your scrawny ar$e all the way to Akavir… SIR!

Most excellent...

Loved the almost sarcastic tone of his thoughts towards the Glenmoril quest givers...Made me laugh that did... ...

Another splendid chapter...So excellent...

*Applauds heartily*...

[minque]

Hehe..firs a quote from one of the previous comments....

it sounds like Athynae has her mothers stub-- willpower.

is it so huh?

Then I'm so thankful Athlain is struggling so hard to rescue Thyna...But of course he would do that, he's a man of honor, of love, of compassion....and yet a warrior!

Treydoggie my friend, my mentor, my inspiration....this story here is just so intriguing, I love every word of it! And the cooperation with Athynae....why it's awesome!

May I have some more, Sir?

[mALX]

GAAAAH !!! Those Glenmoril witches are a lot creepier in Morrowind than the one in Oblivion was! This gave me chills !! Awesome Write !!

[treydog]

@Olen- My thanks. I have come to trust your “ear” for whether the mood I am trying to develop is working or not. I dithered a bit about the humor, but then left it in- because, as you say, that IS how Athlain copes. The first line you quote was one of those that came very near the end of the revising process. On the third- your name for what Athlain cannot- or will not- say is exactly right.

@Grits- Gulp. Again, I look to your wonderful moments with Jerric and Abiene as a guide for how to do this “relationship thing” correctly. And you have caught Athlain- he DOES in fact save the empty vials, because SHE touched them. There are some really fun ways to REALLY abuse levitation in Morrowind- the Shrine to Stop the Moon comes to mind. The decision to hold back some of the plant- AND the one to Athynae’s (stolen- and she WILL have MUCH to say about that) silver dagger- were also rather late additions. I am thrilled that it worked so well. In his grumbling and griping, he is more like his father than he knows.

@Black Hand- Thank you so much. And yes- I DO believe “willpower” is the word we want here. We DEFINITELY do NOT wish to make comparisons to “a deaf guar stuck in a mudhole.” And so- we won’t. Nope. Nope. Uh-uh.

@McBadgere- You humble me, sir. Most particularly because I have been so remiss in telling you what a delight YOUR story continues to be. Much as he does with humor (something he AGAIN got from his father- without fully realizing it), Athlain uses memories of Carbo to center himself. And, though he does not know from whence it comes, he definitely has a feeling of being “played” by the Glenmoril Sisters. The truth of that is about to be revealed.

@minque- I did not say ANYTHING about Serene and “stubb…” the word I did not say. Thank you so for your praise of Athlain and of his writer. Much of how I envision him comes from the work of others- including yourself. And I won’t take this opportunity to prod you to give us MORE of that work. Nope.

And more is on its way!

@mALX- Thank you so much! Considering the depth you have to TES vampire lore, your praise means more than I can say.

Where we are. Athlain has (at last) gathered the components needed for the Rite of the Wolf Giver. Thus, in true sadistic writer fashion, we will leave him for a time and return to Athynae.

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I curled into the memory of Mother’s hands brushing my hair away.

“Thyna?” The voice for which I had been waiting what seemed like a thousand lives, Athlain’s voice, calling to me.

I didn’t answer, I couldn’t find my own voice, I couldn’t even open my eyes. I was afraid it was a dream and if I moved… so I drifted back into the fitful sleep.

The cave, hour by hour, minute by minute, closed in on itself and me. I had finally gotten to the point that the ugly, antlered wolf head and its insidious voice could not easily pierce my mental barrier. I would tell Mother how Uncle Seth could block her now that I knew, as soon as I saw her that is. It just didn’t seem right- telling her how to block telepathy through telepathic channels. I had also been blocking from her and Athlain the worst of the pain and conflict, what she accessed of the beast’s intrusions I could not control, but thankfully she was fighting alongside me on that mental battlefield, it was the strength of her presence that had gotten me this far. And the knowledge that Athlain would move Hvitkald Peak to find a cure.

The waiting, knowing that at some point I would not be able to fight it any longer, was almost as deadly as the disease itself, for me anyway. Death, dark thoughts those, the ones that come when contemplating what comes after life ends. Are the colors vivid, or is all just shades and shadow? Do you feel, or do you just cease to exist? Is there comprehension of time passing or are you just …?

“THYNA? ATHYNAE SARETHI! ANSWER ME!” he sounded like a Legion Drill Sergeant, and I couldn’t help the smile that brought to my face, but I still couldn’t answer. I was trembling like I had just stepped out of a stream onto frozen ground. I was barely breathing. Elation and fear, loneliness and the most intense need to see his beautiful face, all culminated even as I could sense his fear, hear him thinking:

“PLEASE AZURA! SHE HAS TO LIVE. I would know if something happened; I WOULD!! Could she block me if she planned something stupid?”

There he went again…. But it didn’t register as something to get angry about at that point. He was scared and so was I, but my fear was so profound I couldn’t say anything. I felt his hands on my shoulders as he gently shook me.

He’s touching me, HE’S TOUCHING ME! There aren’t words to describe how I felt in that moment; finally I wasn’t alone anymore and then that thought was crowded out by another, more urgent still:

“THAT CANNOT HAPPEN. He can’t touch me; it’s dangerous. “

“STOP!!” The depth of the voice I found was startling to Athlain and to me.

He dropped his hands even as I lifted mine to my face, covering my eyes and rubbing them. I tried to calm the quaking that had overtaken me. I lowered my hands and opened my eyes.

“Well that took long enough. Have you enjoyed your outing?” Why did I always do that? Why couldn’t I just act like I felt, thankful that he was back, appreciative that he loved me enough to TRY to find help, whether he did or not? Maybe someday I would not be like this, but for now he would just have to deal with me the way I was. After all, if I didn’t love him I wouldn’t be so hateful. It made sense to me.

“It’s lovely to see you, too.” His response was no different than mine, thick with emotion but on the wrong side of nice. “I have something for you, but you must know the road I traveled to bring me back to you.”

“What is it Athlain? Do you not think that the priority is to tell me whether I shall live or die?” There it was, cut to the chase. And isn’t that an appropriate use of words, “chase.” And even as that thought passed I could picture a Werehound chasing its two-legged prey.

“I have a potion, but first you must know the whole of what it cost me, all that I have been through to obtain it.”

“You are blathering like an old woman, Athlain. You got it- wonderful- good- excellent- full marks. Now, just give me the potion and leave. You can tell me all about it AFTER. Do you not think I have already suffered this abomination long enough?” Even I could hear the coldness in my own words, making it sound as if I didn’t care what he had gone through- FOR ME! Had I always been this way?

“You need to know now and you also need to know, ‘Thyna, that I will not leave you again.” There it was, that commander voice he had picked up somewhere between Ald’ruhn and here. Like that was going to change my mind. I knew what the healing process was, and I also knew that he could not stay as I suffered the throes of the major healing my body would require- the changes it would bring.

“Oh yes, you WILL leave me, else I will not take the potion.” It came out barely a whisper but with crisp enunciation, that tone that said, “This is not open for discussion.” That should do it; he wouldn’t argue with that. “Tell me what you need to tell me then and get on with it; too much time has passed as it is.”

“I was sent to the Glenmoril Sisters by Korst. They are worshippers of Hircine. He warned me of their dark ways , but I don’t think even he could have imagined what actually happened. They sent me across the island, gathering ingredients for a repulsive concoction, as part of something they called the ‘Rite of the Wolf Giver’.”

He stopped and breathed deeply for a moment, his eyes haunted with the memory.

“The Sisters I met were not servants of Hircine, but rather part of a plot by Boethiah to thwart Hircine. They murdered the true Glenmoril Wyrd and used illusion magic to take their places.”

I frowned at him as I tried to follow the twisting path of this story. “Boethiah? What does he have to do with…? Never mind. So what are you trying to tell me, Athlain? That it was all a lie- that there IS no cure? Just tell me, so I can decide what I need to do.” Why was he insisting on telling me this story? Why did he seem to want to delay? He had already told me he had the potion- so why draw things out?

He did not flare up in response to my biting tone the way he should have- what was WRONG with him? Instead, he just went on in that wooden voice, as though he was reciting a particularly dull lesson:

“I am sorry this is complicated, but you need to know all of it. I gathered the ingredients and then they sent me away, telling me to come back to the Altar of Thrond at midnight. That was… a few hours ago. When I reached the place, they had captured a Nord girl and laid her on the Altar.”

He stopped again and tears welled from his eyes. “ ‘Thyna… they wanted me to... sacrifice her. They wanted me to cut out her heart and replace it with the horrible THING they had made- the ‘wolf heart’ they called it. And then, I was to bring her heart to you- so you could… so you could…“ his voice fell to a whisper, “eat it and replace your own, damaged heart. Thus they would thwart Hircine and corrupt me.”

I knew to the depths of my soul and his that he would rip the hearts from a thousand monsters to save me, but taking the life of one innocent person, especially an innocent young girl- was far too high a price to pay. And that was as it should be; that was the Athlain I loved. I was still seized by the idea that two gods were fighting over me when it should be no secret that I was Azura’s child; after all, how could I be otherwise? Were it not for her I wouldn’t be here, because my mother wouldn’t. Athlain was still talking, still in that dull, weary tone:

“They told me Boethiah is VERY angry, as he considers you HIS.”

“HE WHAT? WHO? WHAT?” I was stunned for a moment, who was this Daedric NOBODY and how did he come to believe he could “own” me? Sweet Azura, how could this be happening? “Maybe I need to ask Azura to go have a chat with him.” She should have hit me with a bolt of lightning for the tone I used.

“Boethiah saw Hircine reaching out his hand to take you, to make you a ‘hound’.” His tone was that of a storyteller, like he was detaching himself from any emotion.

“To make me a hound? I can see you taking me home to Mother now. ‘Here Aunt Serene, this is your new housedog. Really, it is just Athynae but quieter and less trouble. She’ll just lie by the fire and occasionally scratch and lick places she shouldn’t’.”

Athlain shot me a look that I had never seen before; if he had used that expression in the arena back home he might have won more matches. “So he sent his servants to murder the true Glenmoril Wyrd…”

“Two old Daedric princes that no one even remembers vying to ‘have’ me.” What in the Nine was going on here? I had fallen into some sort of scary story that had gotten far out of hand.

“And it was not enough to just stop Hircine; they are sick and twisted and they wanted to force me into an impossible choice, an innocent girl, or you.” He dropped his head for the briefest moment and I could feel the pain in his thoughts, in his heart.

“What is it, Athlain? What happened?” The pain shook me, his pain, brought on by my dilemma; I suddenly felt very responsible for all of this. All I wanted to do was grab his hand and say, “Let’s go home.”

“The prophecy of Oddfrid came back to me and reminded me to be true to myself, and I saw another answer, one that Etienne was trying to hide. I discovered the truth when I refused to kill the girl Thyna,” a single tear slipped down his cheek as the words escaped his lips. “But I had to kill Etienne; rather the one I thought was Etienne, to prevent her from making the sacrifice anyway. When I released the girl she told the rest of the tale and I found the real Sisters in a cave not far from the Altar, killed by the imposters. And on one of the bodies was a scroll with the ingredients I needed to make the true cure.” He reached inside the satchel I had given him and drew out a vial, “This potion.”

“Athlain, I know you would not have taken the life of someone innocent, even if it was the only way you could save me. And that’s RIGHT! And you got the potion and saved the girl too; YOU SAVED HER, ATHLAIN! You made the right choice; Azura’s peace upon you; you made the right choice.” I could feel the hot tears coursing down my own cheeks, tears for the girl, for all that he had been through to get back to me, for the potion that he now carried that was my only hope of survival, and for myself and the naïveté that had been my life before this nightmare began.

“But there’s one more thing…”

“Yes?”

“For the potion to work, I have to be here with you.” His voice was gentle, as he reached to touch my hand.

I recoiled, stood and crossed to the fire. It was hard enough to have him so close, the secondary thoughts, the ones beneath the conversation, were all concentrated on the vein that throbbed on the side of Athlain’s neck, drawing me like a slaughterfish to an easy kill, the scent enticing me like Cook’s sweet rolls early in the morning, all sweet and gooey and…. I knew he could hear those thoughts, I could feel his presence in my mind, but he obviously did not understand the strength of will it was taking me to fight and keep it at bay.

“I have never heard of a potion that had that as an ingredient! How ridiculous, mix this and that and heat to boiling, then drink in the presence of another. Athlain, I know what this potion will do to me as it heals me.”

He moved to take a step in my direction and I stopped him with a look and a shake of my head, “It has to travel through the bloodstream, to each vital organ, and as it does so, it will be a battlefield inside, as the diseased blood and organs are cleansed. It will be horrendous, but even more than that it will be dangerous. Dangerous for me certainly, and for you if I allow you to stay. And the possibility exists that as the potion works, I could change into one of those hideous creatures and NEVER change back. If too much time has passed, well, some things can’t be undone.”

“Athynae I want you to think!”

“What do you presume I have been doing during the lifetimes that I have spent in this private hell? I cannot take the chance that I will kill you in the process of POSSIBLY healing myself.” The words came out as a bellow, and I made an effort to calm myself. Being angry and fighting lycanthropy were not good company inside.

“I want you to remember when you healed me at the cabin. Do you remember?”

“OF COURSE I REMEMBER, IT WAS THE MOST FRIGHTENED I HAVE EVER BEEN IN MY LIFE! HOW COULD I NOT REMEMBER?”

“Do your hands always glow blue during a healing?” His eyes were piercing and his voice carried a hint of accusation.

That thought caused me pause. Why was he asking that? How did he know that? Why did he want to know? But I could not be dishonest; somehow I had the feeling he would know if I lied. So, as badly as I wanted to say “YES THEY ALWAYS DO,” I couldn’t…

“DO THEY? TELL ME! DO YOUR HANDS GLOW BLUE DURING A HEALING? DO YOUR MOTHER’S HANDS GLOW BLUE EVERY TIME?”

That was another shock- the only time I had seen Mother’s hands glow during a healing was when it was truly life or death and she had requested intervention from Azura.

“No, they don’t. But what does that have to do with this?” I knew how Athlain felt about all of the gods, so I couldn’t even guess what he was getting at.

“I am immune to the disease that courses through you 'Thyna, BECAUSE OF YOUR HEALING!”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t kill you, FOOL!” Immune? How? No- there was no time. I could feel myself drowning in this fight. I WANTED him to stay, I did, but I could not let him, I couldn’t risk his life anymore than I already had, why did he not understand?

“I would have died in that cabin if it weren’t for you and the healing that channeled through you; you are a great healer, 'Thyna, just as your Mother is.”

I laughed, a mad laugh, probably the stress of the situation but also the immense exaggeration of comparing me to my Mother. Serene Sarethi was the greatest healer on all of Vvardenfell, probably in the entire Empire, and I was NOTHING close to that.

“But even you could not have brought me back from the brink without help.” His eyes were fixed on me, huge pools of unshed tears that he was holding by a thread with an intensity that was as sharp as my dagger.

Suddenly I found myself immersed in the memory of that healing. I hadn’t realized how close he was to death until I had laid my hands on his emaciated body, his heart barely beating, struggling through every thrust of blood, his liver fighting the contamination of the drug and his kidneys far beyond being able to flush the poison. I had pleaded,

“PLEASE AZURA, FIX THIS, I cannot live without him.”

And she had; the power channeled through my hands glowing that same crystal blue I’d seen before.
Athlain’s determined voice broke my reverie, “The potion is a pathway, just as your hands were a pathway. But for it to work, the power has to be enhanced from elsewhere, and the strength has to come from beyond ourselves.”

“I cannot risk it, Athlain. You may stay if you insist; I cannot wait any longer, but the truth is it may already be too late; this may be a useless attempt and I do not want you to be my first kill. You must stay far out of reach; you must have your weapon ready, and you must GIVE ME BACK MY DAMN DAGGER!”

“I have to be the channel, Athynae, for this to work I have to touch you, hold you.” His voice had lost a little of the commander edge and just a touch of pleading took its place.

“WHY ARE YOU SO STUBBORN? Why don’t you understand what could happen?” This was just becoming one nightmare rolling into another and another- when was it going to end?

“BECAUSE AZURA TOLD ME TO DO THIS!” Now that did not sound like Athlain AT ALL. Had he been corrupted by the false Wyrd after all?

“If it is Azura’s will that I live then I will, whether you are touching me and attempting suicide or not!” I wish I had a dunce hat to put on your head.

“Her words are burned into my brain. When I entered the cave she told me:”

Wait until the dawn, Child of Nerevar. That is when my power is greatest.The night and the moons belong to The Hunter. Dusk and Dawn- belong to me. As do you.

“When you entered what cave? You expect me to believe Azura said anything to you?” I was becoming concerned; really, he had ALWAYS just sort of tolerated my faith in Azura, it was like a grudging respect, like he knew it was probably a good idea but he didn’t like it.

“THIS cave Thyna; please do not pretend ignorance- it does not suit you.”

Athlain had left the entrance to the cave open and I could see the edges of the horizon just beginning to lighten. “You are just USING Azura’s name to convince me to let you stay. It isn’t going to work. You have never given Azura so much as a by your leave and you expect me to believe she talked to you.”

“I called to her to help me find the plant, the wolfsbane, the ONLY one on the island…”

“STOP! Just stop, please. It is not going to work, it just isn’t!” I felt as if he was trying to twist my faith in Azura just to meet his own desire, to stay with me and it angered me, not just that he was doing it but that somewhere inside I felt like he was telling the truth. How was I supposed to go against EVERYTHING I KNEW of him and believe something so illogical? His eyes followed mine to the entrance and he said quietly,

“It is almost dawn; it is almost time.”

Defeated by it all, I hated every last breath I had taken since I stepped off the porch of that cottage. Everything since then had been an internal conflict that ripped and tore at my mind and my soul just like the lycanthropy had raged through my body. “I see the sky.” It was steeped in emotion, simple words that meant EVERYTHING.

“When it is time, I will give you the potion. And I will stand here.”

“No.” There was no command in my voice, there was none left.

“I cannot leave.”

I took a deep breath, fighting anger and fear, fear that I had reached the end, fear that I would be the end of him, pain emotional and physical, and the worst of all was the black cloud of sadness and regret that covered everything. “The least you can do is stand by the entrance to the cave and keep me from leaving should anything go wrong.”

Athlain’s face paled. “ 'Thyna, I…”

“I never thought when I had Bryn make that weapon for you that it could be my end, The Gift,” I smiled. ”There is something peaceful in that.” Musings of a maddened mind I suppose.

Athlain was holding his breath it seemed as he handed me the potion. “I will do what I must.” In that sentence I heard the totality of what it meant.

“Yes you will, because it will be me or you. You have fought for your life many times before and survived. I have no reason to doubt your ability this time. You MUST survive,” I tried to swallow past the enormous lump in my throat, “you are the only one that can take me home.”

He walked to the entrance of the cave, pulling The Gift from its loop. Our eyes met across a short distance that seemed greater than that between the stars. We were far beyond words, both putting all of our faith, love, hope and dreams in the few drops of liquid in the tiny vial.

“It will be as you say.” I couldn’t tell if he had spoken the words out loud or if it was a thought.
“Azura, keep him safe.” I looked past him into the glowing colors of the dawn as I removed the cork and drank the potion. “I love you.”

This post has been edited by treydog: Jan 18 2012, 03:41 AM

[McBadgere]

Oh my... ...Oh my freaking God that was intense...

That's just amazing...Totally amazing...

No...Even more amazing than that...

I'm speechless...Well...Typeless... ...

Fair dues, that's just brilliance right there that is...

Couple of things that made me laugh...

After all, if I didn’t love him I wouldn’t be so hateful. It made sense to me.

Well yeah... ...

And...

‘Here Aunt Serene, this is your new housedog. Really, it is just Athynae but quieter and less trouble. She’ll just lie by the fire and occasionally scratch and lick places she shouldn’t’.

*Laughs...Nods...Slaps self accross face...*...Naughty Robert... ...

Intense and brilliant and funny and heartbreaking...

Nice one!!... ...

*Applauds heartily*....

[mALX]

Holy Cow! This has to be the most powerful write yet! I can't even begin to quote, ARGH !!


These two quotes were powerful insights into Athynae :

Why did I always do that? Why couldn’t I just act like I felt, thankful that he was back, appreciative that he loved me enough to TRY to find help, whether he did or not? Maybe someday I would not be like this, but for now he would just have to deal with me the way I was. After all, if I didn’t love him I wouldn’t be so hateful. It made sense to me.

“It’s lovely to see you, too.” His response was no different than mine, thick with emotion but on the wrong side of nice. “I have something for you, but you must know the road I traveled to bring me back to you.”

Even I could hear the coldness in my own words, making it sound as if I didn’t care what he had gone through- FOR ME! Had I always been this way?

This has been quoted already, but merited a second one :

“To make me a hound? I can see you taking me home to Mother now. ‘Here Aunt Serene, this is your new housedog. Really, it is just Athynae but quieter and less trouble. She’ll just lie by the fire and occasionally scratch and lick places she shouldn’t’.”

I absolutely love this line because it mixes the greatest compliment with a side barb so easily that either could be missed :

Athlain shot me a look that I had never seen before; if he had used that expression in the arena back home he might have won more matches.

Awesome Write !!!

*

[Grits]

A very moving and powerful segment. Hearing the events from Athlain as Athynae did rather than seeing them unfold really brought her doubts home.

What a horrifying choice for Athlain to have to make. The only hope for them both was the unknown third option. The pain he went through was clear through Athynae’s eyes.

It says a lot that Athynae asked Azura to keep him safe before she took the potion. Wow, an intensely emotional episode! And with a sweet touch of hope at the end.

[Black Hand]

A picture is worth a thousand words, so I'll let Sebastian from the Little Mermaid display my reaction:

Jawdrop.

Utterly fantastic with this last one....


S:"Dammit Girl! Don't tell her how I do that!"

[Athynae]

"FINE! I won't, Just remember that I know."

This post has been edited by Athynae: Jan 19 2012, 12:53 PM

[minque]

Soooo you guys made me speechless....AGAIN! What an amazing installment.... I don't know what to say, whatever I try to type down here isn't enough to express how i felt about this....Blackie's Sebastian says it all

"FINE! I won't, Just remember that I know."

"Now my dear girl, you don't think I have some aces up my sleeve huh? It may come as a surprise but I'll tell you this...I know things too, but I choose not to reveal everything I know!"

Anyway there is still hope that things may come out OK for them, and I sincerely hope so because I would just hate to loose Thyna...

And I won’t take this opportunity to prod you to give us MORE of that work. Nope.

You wouldn't, right? Hmmmm

[Olen]

Very powerful part. The opening had a strange timeless dreamlike quality to it. I wasn't quite sure what was happening which caught Athynae in the grip of the fever well. The inevitable argument was present, of course, but with a greatly changed dynamic. Athlain was sure and powerful. The days of him being tounge-tied or just in the wrong (regardless of reality) seem to be over. Whether he'll go back to passively listening and letting Athynae have her say remains to be seen. I suspect this will fundementally change their relationship though.

In the argument the reversal of roles was also notable for Athynae having made the mistake and Athlain coming to the rescue with Athynae being a less than willing patient. Her objection to putting Athlain in danger neatly mirrors his sending her to Vvardenfel. I suspect that seeing eachothers perspective may be a major factor in bringing about the change - indeed Athynae seems to have noticed this already.

This was definatly a very powerful part, others have already made their praise and I echo it, however I am going to raise two criticisms/ thoughts (both are largely matters of taste).
Firstly I would suggest that there was possibly slightly too heavy a use of all-caps in that section. I found it crossed the line from emphasising to being a little distracting. My taste very much does run towards use of description over typeface though so it might just be me.
The second is entirely selfish - I would have liked to see Athlain realise the Wyrd were fake and have to face the decisions from his PoV, it would have been amazing to read. However I accept that it might have taken some impact from this section and would have slowed the pace rather. A matter of balance really (and when was I ever balanced).

Finally a quote

I looked past him into the glowing colors of the dawn as I removed the cork and drank the potion. “I love you.”

Brilliant finish to this piece. Tied in so heavily to what went before, but also looking to the future. I believe that's the first time she's said it with him present.