[Flashback] Night without a star (Balderdash)

[Achenar]

20th Fall 500AV


Cold.

That was the first thing he felt. The bitter, aching cold that pierced through flesh and trembled in his bones. He felt weightless, the air stolen from his lungs. His fingers had stretched out, clutching and nothing and everything. Barely conscious, cold and alone.

And then the crush of water as it swallowed him. There was a flash of an old memory; the crashing waves against the hull of a ship, white sails flapping against the horizon. The word was on his tongue.Ocean. But no words escaped his mouth except the bubbles that drifted to the surface. Something in his gut forced his legs to kick from the sand. His horned head split the surface of the water, and he finally gasped for breath, splashing with intensity, as disorientation settled in his mind. His head whirled, and the force of his legs caused him to stand, only to stumble and collapse with a splash onto the shore.

This… this was not the celestial realm. This was not his home. This was not his God. This was wrong.

The ethaefal’s arms shook as he knelt in the water on all fours, the meager waves lapping against his arms and thighs. His breathing was erratic, and his head throbbed in a painful effort to recall what had happened to him. But he couldn’t. Where once there was a song, there was only silence now.

The ethaefal glanced up, where Leth’s rays drew his gaze, and he called out to him, only the sound he made was…. Impossible. He could no longer produce it, and that made the creature panic. He stumbled onto his legs once more, his eyes flickering, chest heaving. A pressure built up in his chest, like a heavy weight that sought release.

The trembling ethaefal, sopping and cold as the bitter wind battered him, lifted his face to the sky. “LETH!” He roared, expelling all the air he’d built in his lungs.

[Balderdash]

"What are you moaning about, boy?" snapped a deep, sonorous voice directly behind him. A hand as hard and rough as a whetstone clapped on Maddoch's shoulder and wheeled him around roughly to face its source. It was a dark-skinned man with a scar cutting down his lips and piercing ice blue eyes clad in thick, richly embroidered robes with the insignia of a coin emblazoned across his chest. "Appears on the shores, no warning, no clothes... Fantastic." he muttered to himself before hooking the same hand under Maddoch's armpit and hauling him to his feet. "C'mon. It's dangerous when it's dark out." the monk said brusquely as he took off down the pier whilst practically dragging the Ethaefal along, wet wood creaking under their feet. In the of Maddoch's eye, a shadow moved beneath the dark waves. In a few chimes they passed immense stone walls into a town of elegant red marble, splashes of yellow, sapphire blue and vermilion muted by night revealing the presence of countless murals. On occasion, a pitch black ward could be seen stamped like a brand on a wall. As they penetrated the city, Maddoch became aware of a faint electric tingle brushing his skin and pricking at the hairs on his body, accompanied by an overwhelming sensation that something was watching him. Without warning, the monk stopped in front of an oak door and banged on it with his fist. "Open up!" he barked. "Laat requires your services." After a chime, the door opened to reveal a pale, dark-haired woman in her late twenties who was almost as tall as Maddoch wearing a bright green chemise. "What do you- hello." she said in a tone that started at frustrated and quickly shifted to shocked. "What the petch have you brought on my doorstep?" "Washed on the shore." said the monk, shoving Maddoch inside. "Needs clothes. I'll see if I can haggle you an extra loaf of bread for him as well. He's staying here tonight. Do what you want with him tomorrow." With that said, the monk slammed the door shut as the woman opened her mouth to speak. The woman sighed, rubbed her temples, then shot Maddoch a weary smile. "At least you're not a sore sight. Come in, make yourself comfortable. I guess you'll have to sleep on the floor." As she slouched off to her bedroom, Maddoch was able to get a good look at the place. It was a large room with a small hallway on the other side that branched into three smaller ones. The woman had disappeared into the furthest one. In an alcove to his far right was a simple kitchen and larder. Closer to the center was a round mahogany table covered in pieces of jewelry and scattered Mizas. To his left was a hearth with a fire crackling inside. About a chime later, two articles of clothing came flying at his face; baggy blue pants and an orange shirt. "Sorry if they're too tight. I'm Shyla, by the way. Sorry if I'm not very talkative right now; I'm not used to being woken up at this hour. Sleep well." Clearly wanting to get back to Nysel's realm herself, Shyla then turned to retire to what was presumably her bedroom.

[Achenar]

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest from the hand that clamped down on his wet shoulder. What he saw when he was forcefully whirled around was a menacing figure to the newborn’s eyes; dark and rough yet… oddly regal in their own way judging by the weave-work of his robes. But the ethaefal wasn’t focused on such things. Instead, his wide eyes met the monk’s blue, and he fumbled for words before he was unceremoniously set on his feet. “W-wait, Leth, Leth is up there!” He protested, his eyes swerving toward the sky, where the moon hung solemnly between the stars.

But his protests seemed aptly ignored. As he was dragged through the streets of the town, the ethaefal’s silver gaze wandered. Like a child in a toy store, he stared in amazement, and nearly stumbled twice as he followed the monk.

He was drenched and shivering, his arms wrapped around himself, but the strange sensations he felt in this city made his heart beat at a rapid pace. Something felt wrong, but he didn’t know what it was.

“What.. is this place?” The ethaefal asked, though the question followed the monk’s rapping of the door, and was likely unheard. He blinked when a woman opened it, and watched the interaction with little in the way of words. He shifted from foot to foot, rubbed his arms, and blinked when he was shoved inside. He turned to say something, but the monk had soon departed.

The ethaefal glanced slowly at the woman. It was warmer here, quiet. Home. The word sank on his tongue, but he said nothing until she’d returned. With the clothes retrieved from his head, he slid into them mechanically with some effort.

“Thank you,” he said automatically. But when she’d turned to walk back to her room, he held up a hand. “Wait… I…. I don’t know where I am, or what to do.” He paused. “I felt something out there… something wrong.” He didn’t know how to explain it. He glanced at the palms of his hands, like the tingling and pinpricks still echoed in the back of his mind.