Narengawa Kha (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sheltronymous) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
shoutfire2021-03-29 08:43 pm
sheltronymous) wrote in shoutfire2021-03-29 08:43 pm
Entry tags:
woof
[How this scenario came about is left as an exercise for the reader. Timeline divergences work in mysterious ways, none of which even the Ancients knew enough about to predict, let alone the Crystal Exarch in all his quietly desperate scheming. It doesn't matter. There are two Warriors of Light who never met each other prior to Elidibus's death, the situation may eventually resolve itself according to the unknown laws of spatiotemporal inertia, Urianger is too tied up in other affairs right now to puzzle out exactly how the Scions came to acquire two slightly different sets of memories upon their return to the Source, and nobody else cares.
What matters is that Narengawa "no, the shorter Warrior of Light" Kha just walked back into the Rising Stones, a crumpled package from the Ul'dahn Miners' Guild buried somewhere at the bottom of her much-abused backpack, and found a dog. A small, white dog, far fluffier and less practical-looking than any hunting hound she ever spent some small part of her childhood with.
It's sitting on top of the otherwise deserted bar counter, surrounded by muddy paw prints and scratch marks. It yips excitedly at her, wagging its tail. She looks down at it. She looks behind her. She notes, a minute too late, that stepping on the trail of pawprints leading from the entrance to the counter has smeared them impressively widely across the stone floor; F'lhaminn won't be very happy about that.
She looks down at the dog again, frowning.]
...Alphinaud, is that you?
[Alphinaud is not here, having been called away to Lake Silvertear to speak with an Alliance representative less than a bell ago. Nor is his sister, who got restless waiting for him to bring back tidings from the Ghimlyt front and left to go take out her impatience on a wild morbol. There is only this dog.]
What matters is that Narengawa "no, the shorter Warrior of Light" Kha just walked back into the Rising Stones, a crumpled package from the Ul'dahn Miners' Guild buried somewhere at the bottom of her much-abused backpack, and found a dog. A small, white dog, far fluffier and less practical-looking than any hunting hound she ever spent some small part of her childhood with.
It's sitting on top of the otherwise deserted bar counter, surrounded by muddy paw prints and scratch marks. It yips excitedly at her, wagging its tail. She looks down at it. She looks behind her. She notes, a minute too late, that stepping on the trail of pawprints leading from the entrance to the counter has smeared them impressively widely across the stone floor; F'lhaminn won't be very happy about that.
She looks down at the dog again, frowning.]
...Alphinaud, is that you?
[Alphinaud is not here, having been called away to Lake Silvertear to speak with an Alliance representative less than a bell ago. Nor is his sister, who got restless waiting for him to bring back tidings from the Ghimlyt front and left to go take out her impatience on a wild morbol. There is only this dog.]
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Not that he has time for that. He abruptly raises his head. Barking...? And surprisingly hard to pinpoint at that.
Abandoning the husk, Joss strides towards the door to Dawn's Respite, opening it wide. Inside, a blur of white fur is leaving muddy pawprints all over the desk, including the book he was reading a few minutes prior. Satisfied with its handiwork (pawdiwork?) the dog looks at him with its beady black eyes and barks.]
In here-
[He freezes. From behind the solar door, another identical bark just echoed.]
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Two of -
[Something yaps behind her. She almost doesn't dare to crane her neck further back to see what it is. When she does, she's greeted by the same(?) dog - nestled in a rack full of wooden training weapons a little ways past the bar counter, hind paws dangling, wagging its tail merrily despite its precarious perch.]
Three of them. Well, I see this is happening.
[And she has absolutely no idea how to solve it, but she must. No matter what this looks like, the fact is that the Scions' headquarters have been breached while most of them were away on other business, which means it could happen again. Letting her rising panic prevent her from acting now would be letting them down.]
...Joscelaint. Have you other food to bait them with?
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Inspector...
[But that's not what Naren asked him about. He discards the thought with a shake of his head, which doubles up as a negative. He always carries some jerky on him, but no need to stock up when he's at the Scions' headquarters.]
The larder?
[Not that he wants to take food from there without asking the other Scions, but it's not like they have much of a choice... do they? He can feel horrible about it later. Use some of his personal funds to refill the pantry, maybe.
Wherever it is I'm sure they won't find another dog in it.]
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The good news is that they do not find a single dog in the larder. The bad news is that there are two, bringing the sum total up to at least five. One is up on a shelf, pushing a slow but steady stream of pots and jars over the edge. The other is happily chasing a large wheel of cheese around the larder in a wobbly circle.
The worse news is that, smack dab in the centre of that cheesy pawprint trail, floating half a yalm or so above the floor, an aetherial rift pulses ominously in the shape of a dog.
Naren bites her lip. Reaching for her sword again is unequivocally the wrong response here, so she refrains, but she can't think of another. Her mind is a complete blank. It's been some time since she felt this thoroughly out of her depth - maybe not since waking up on the First, a lifetime ago.]
...I fear this is outside my expertise. [You can tell she's stressed out if she's admitting that aloud.] But... could it be the source?
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Hmm.
[The vaguely affirmative-yet-noncommittal hum is the only answer he can give Naren. This, too, is far outside his expertise, and though he does respect Naren's ability to admit it at all, as the only two people around it's not like they have much of a choice. Until some of the other Scions get back from their errands, they'll have to at least contain the situation.
Speaking of which, he's not so reckless as to jump headfirst into a rift of unknown origin. Instead, he grabs the first long and thin (and disposable) object he can find - this being a larder, it turns out to be a baguette - and... slowly tries to poke the rift with it.
Alisaie would probably have a lot to say about his fencing.]
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At the same time, equally gently, a few of the fallen potsherds begin to clink and clatter across the floor, into the middle of the room. The two larder dogs also pause and look towards the rift in turn, ears perked up and trails of destruction temporarily allayed.
Naren has no words to express how creepy this looks - it reminds her a little of the late Vauthry commanding his sin eaters - but she has the presence of mind to kick the broken pottery away from the rift with her steel-toed boot. While she can't imagine what might happen if the doggy void manages to absorb the crockery, she certainly doesn't want to encourage it.]
Ware what else you draw in!
[It's only a sinking feeling in her gut for now, but it may bear out soon enough. Not only did the dogs in this room stop what they were doing upon feeling the pull of the void, there's a pitter-patter sound growing louder from beyond the entrance to the larder, suggesting a miniature stampede of muddy little paws...]
i don't know how anyone can think joss is smart
Joss, still playing tug of war with the creature on the other side of the void, weighs all the options inside his mind. They could try blocking the door to prevent the other dogs from- no, it wouldn't work, not if all of them can teleport. Distract them with food? If the din outside is any indication, the Scions' reserves would probably not last longer than a quarter of a bell.
Defeat the evil at its source?
... Hmm.
He releases his hold on the baguette. The bread gets sucked in with a noise not dissimilar to a chainsaw.]
I'm going in.
[It'll be just like the old times, with Nabriales.]
i mean sagi did
Not alone.
[Thump. Thump. Woof. Thump. The door shudders a little with each impact.]
Attune to it while there's time. Perchance identify this source.
[Which makes her sound a lot more certain that it's the source than she really is. It's a bad habit.]
yes but sagi is not very smart himself
He swallows his spit through his anxiety-clenched throat as he gives her a curt nod, his long arm extending towards the dog-shaped void. Though aether manipulation was never his forte, attuning is a simple enough task.
Or at least it would be, if Joss's entire being didn't get sucked into the rift the moment his aether connected with it.
Glop.]
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Joscelaint!
[Just like that, he's gone. Not even a ripple of his aether is left. The larder itself feels somehow cavernous for his absence, although this is less Naren hesitantly developing a sense of shared struggle than the fact that he was very tall and his armour very spiky. Only the dog-shaped void remains, hovering, pulsing - beckoning. Whoever heard of a dog doing the beckoning?
Naren doesn't think twice. If the simple act of aether attunement is so hazardous, it can't be any safer on the inside. When she lets go of the door handle, a tidal wave of small dogs rushes inside, their little excited paws thundering on the stone floor, but she's already away - diving for the rift, thrusting out a gloved hand - petting the dog? -
- falling -
- falling, alone, through endless night. Open or close her eyes as she might, she can't even see the scales on her neck when she looks down. She remembers the darkness between shards where the Ascians were always wont to flee, and almost thinks she would welcome the sight of one, not yet aware of the one currently wreaking havoc in distant Garlemald. But none appear, and she keeps falling.
She doesn't know how long she spends falling. She only knows that by the time a dull glow becomes visible below, it takes her senses a couple of seconds to readjust to seeing anything at all. By then, the shape is somewhat closer: a huge, whitish clump of crystal-studded rock, roughly rectangular, at least large enough to fit an entire boss arena. One end features two oddly stumpy stalagmites, while at the other end a curved rock formation juts out by itself.
Naren has barely taken note of these details before she realises just how close they are.]
Twelve preserve -
[Wham. A couple of yalms to the right, and those stalagmites might have been the last thing she saw. As is, she just about manages to roll forward where she lands, then steady herself against the uneven rocky ground. That's about it for the next minute or so, however; she's too winded to pick herself up right away, let alone search the vicinity for Joss.
Imagine being a dragoon with more training in such things.]
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... Ok, no. From his perspective, Joss only just fell through the void much like she did, but unlike her his dragoon training did indeed help stick the landing. Why isn't he anywhere in sight, then? Well... Naren might possibly get the answer to that if she looks at the strange tail-like rock, where Joss's tense body is now stranding spear in hand... on the inside of the curve, parallel to the ground the Au Ra is currently catching her breath on.
Joss himself is looking up(?) at where she fell, the sound having caught his attention.]
... Oh.
[What is this Mario Galaxy-looking bullshit, said Joss never, because he's too polite and doesn't know what a videogame is.]
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Are you all right?
[Whether he is or isn't, whether something mysteriously glued Joss into that position before she crash landed or he found it himself, she's already striding over. A years-long habit of playing hero will do that - as will the vague sense of unease she feels somewhere in the otherwise deadened aether around them. Or perhaps, under them.]
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He takes a deep breath and puts a foot on the wall. His entire world flips over, and the wall is now solid ground.]
Huh.
[Little disorienting, and he might have felt nauseous if he weren't used to spinning, but ok. That certainly won't be relevant very soon, because this is absolutely not a boss arena. The faint, rhythmic vibrations reverberating through the sole of their boots are probably completely coincidental as well (and not anxiety-inducing at all.)
He closes the distance separating him from Naren with a few strides of his terrifyingly long legs.]
You?
[As in "how fare you," but this being Joss it could mean anything.]
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[It seems to be picking up in intensity if not actual volume, a shudder running from Naren's boots all the way up to her horns each time it recurs. Like a bass line coming out of a subwoofer, if you will. She can only assume that their true enemy intends to reveal itself soon.]
Below us. [Cautiously drawing her sword, she holds three fingers up with her other hand.] On the count of three, let's strike first. What say you?
[Yes, she does mean she intends to attack the floor they're standing on. What kind of pug tank only gives 3s countdown, nobody can do their opener properly with that, smdh.]
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But now isn't the time to stew in his own sense of inadequacy. He nods as crouches, blue tendrils of scaled light rising up to engulf him. When the signal comes, his high jump should be enough to make a dent in the lifeforce of whatever is coming their way.
(That's not the dragoon opener at all, at least weave it you asshole.)]
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Three... two... one...!
[A blast of light erupts from her being, crunching into the stalagmite's side. She follows with another, then another, the green limbic rings of her eyes blazing white. What the fuck is this pld rotation, honestly, she hasn't even applied her dot - and yet, with each Holy Spirit blast that chips away at the stone, the ground under their feet rumbles again in apparent surprise. Something is taking notice, for sure.]
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Until the shaking suddenly stops, its absence somehow incredibly more ominous than what was happening just seconds ago.
Joss carefully steps back. When the dust from the destroyed chunk of stalagmite clears, a small white snout seems to be peeking from the hole in the rock.]
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Still - why inside the giant crystalline dog sculpture? Her mind flits back through vivid memories of Bahamut Prime, of Alexander, of the late wandering heart of Zodiark... Yet the images are inextricable from the overwhelming presence she remembers from each primal, and from this smaller creature she feels nothing. Pointedly nothing. Not the living and breathing aether of a regular animal, not the cloying overaspected flatness of one excessively tempered or light-corrupted. Just nothing.
A scraping noise sounds from inside the damaged stalagmite, and now two beady black eyes are peeking out of the hole. Naren inclines her head to meet them, furrowing her brow.]
What is it that you want?
[It's something that a "normal" primal would most likely share without prompting. She has no reason to believe asking will help. Up until now, she has no reason to believe this thing even understands words. The dog simply looks up at her, its pink tongue happily lolling out; another scraping noise from within the rock suggests a wagging tail just out of sight.
Then, without warning, it lets out a resounding
BARK.
The entire stalagmite shudders and crumbles into scattered crystal sand - some plinking off the wing-like aethershield Naren immediately summons on trained instinct. From the wreckage, before she can straighten up and regain her bearings, a small, white dog levitates high into the stagnant air.]