abardacttofollow | QUIET MOUNDS

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QUIET MOUNDS - STEF HEART

You find yourself in a stone room that looks like some sort of medieval dungeon. There are (thankfully), no torture instruments, but there is a man strung up here. One large manacle is around his neck, chaining him stiffly to the door. His hands are free, but each foot is manacled to the matching bottom corner of the doorframe. There is a visible lock on each of the three manacles.

It's Stefen, and there's a knife in his chest. Despite that, he's alive, apparently alert, and doesn't look to be in pain, perhaps due to the lulling, sense-dulling music that seems to be coming from nowhere at all—in fact, if you were in pain before you entered, it's gone here. His wound is bleeding, but only a little, and he smiles his usual bright smile at you.

Behind him, but in front of the closed door he's bound to, you can see three double sets of strings running vertically. Where they meet the floor, they are fastened, and then each runs across the floor to the three doors on the opposite wall, then under them.

There is nothing else in this room.

((OOC: Here's how this will work! Since we're doing individual runs, rather than me putting up individual top levels for areas, just jump the post itself, and I'll run everything for you within your one thread. If you're wanting to do a run with someone else, just stay in the same thread together.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

:...I don't think you need to worry. I think you've more than proved your place here, my dear.:

He looks down at his bloodied fingers.

"I wish I could do more. But I can't, can I."

Edited 2017-08-08 02:53 (UTC)

[her mental 'voice' is kind, but thoughtful]

:We can all only do so much. That tends to make most of us feel less secure-- not more.:

"So I'll trade my pain for a little more of that. It's a pretty small trade. He's not getting anything back."

...

[nudges his shoulder]

:You don't need to wish to do more than your share to earn your place, lad. That's a choice you make in kindness. Remember to be kind to yourself, as well.:

Randale has gotten up to reclaim his crown, and comes to sit down with you two rather than on the throne. He's flagging badly now that Stefen isn't playing, but he does it anyway. "Here now, you overdid it, didn't you...?"

:Both of you...:

[nuzzles both Randale and Stefen's hair; ugh this is sad 8(

and familiar, honestly. TWO HERALD-TYPES HERALDING AT EACH OTHER, despite Stef's non-Herald status. details]

:Please, tell me how to help.:

[...make that three.]

"Well," Randale says. "I think I'll bandage these hands."

"Your majesty-"

Randale puts the lute to one side and examines Stefen's hands. "I don't know how to help other than that."

[sighs. both of you.

quietly gets up and takes the lute to the platform, too]

[click]

[returns to them both]

:Sire, Stef and I will help you sit again, before he rests...:

[glances at Stef but she's pretty sure he's down]

"Of course!"

He gets up hurriedly, helping Randale up.

[they can get each other to the throne, Randale leaning on Yfandes.]

:And where are you going to rest, Stef?:

"I'll..."

Randale says, "We can talk a little, Stefen. Then let's get you to your rooms, yes?"

[firmly]

:I think that would be a good idea.:

"All right," Stef agrees.

[nods to them... hesitates, but doesn't think of anything else she can do for them right this moment, so she just nuzzles them and goes on to the next room

the future has some bad situations :\]

The next is a bedroom. It is cozy despite how richly decorated it is, with a canopied bed that has two plush pillows on it, and rich, maroon heavy comforters piled up. Two well-cushioned wood chairs are pulled around a table that has a bottle of wine in it, half empty, the dregs sitting in two cups. A bookcase has a number of gorgeous, hand-bound books, along with sheafs of music on it, writing utensils, and even a few musical instruments on display.

A window is cracked, looking out over a beautiful garden, with peacocks wandering around; you can distantly see a group of women all gathered around and a man with long white hair performing in the middle. The scent of honeysuckle comes through the window. A travelling sack is behind the door you came in through, opened a little as though someone's been living out of it.

It looks like it's the blend between Vanyel's room at home in Forst Reach and some sort of quarters at court.

Nobody is in here. As before, the cord runs through the room and under a locked door with some sort of weighted platform next to it.

A sign on the door reads: "What is the weight of family? What of love?"

[...is the man with long white hair someone she recognizes...?]

Hard to tell at this distance, but if Vanyel were significantly older, maybe.

[wow, love

i dON'T SUPPOSE THERE'S A WAY TO GET OUT THERE since to be very honest hanging out in what's obviously her husband and his boyfriend's room physically rather than as an invited guest in Van's mind feels kind of intrusive and awkward

weird how that's a distinction. maybe because she's never "been" here]

It would be pretty difficult for you to fit out the window.

[THAT DOESN'T STOP ME IF I-- no she's not going to bust up walls in Stefen's heart. sigh. sigh!!!]

:So what's the thorn in this rose, my dear?:

[goes looking for it, idly scanning the titles of the books and then reaching out with her Othersenses]

Edited 2017-08-08 06:42 (UTC)

The books are a lot of historical works and similar. Your Othersenses indicate a sucking wound of some kind coming from the bed, something quite wrong.

[sighs and tugs the blankets back with her teeth...]

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The Gift 2

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