[Alaric nods and they start off in the direction of the kitchens, only for the entire castle to shake as part of the wall and ceiling collapses inward. Alaric looks back at that, openly confused for a moment before he pulls himself together and continues on.
This weird sense of deja vu doesn't matter. He needs to focus. He isn't usually so scatterbrained.]
I don't know. A storm like this shouldn't be strong enough to damage the castle.
[The windows, maybe, but the stonework itself? Never. This castle would have crumbled long before their time if that was the case. So what could be causing it?]
Maybe it's—
[magic.
He shakes his head quickly and moves to descend the stairs down to the kitchens.]
Come on, let's see if we can find anyone.
[...They won't, will they? Everyone will be gone (again) and they'll need to get out of here before the storm threatens to bring the whole castle down.]
[Maybe it's what? ...No, there's no time to focus on that, nor this incredibly strange sense of dejavu, this is fast becoming a headache. But they need to keep going, or else they'll certainly die. It's not like the storm is going to stop once they leave--
But how does she know this?
Either way, they'll make it down to the kitchens easily, and just like clockwork, there's no one there. It's as if everyone's been plucked from their spots once again, and it's...
Blanche is shaking again, but she knows they need to move. Blanche leads the way instead, retracing an almost certain path as the building shakes again and any way back is blocked.]
...Alaric. What do you think that this may be?
[It's a calm question with no sense of judgement. For as much as Blanche can try to be calm in this situation, anyway.]
[There isn't anyone else here. He thought it was strange that the hallway was empty given the ferocity of the storm, but this just confirms it. Where is everyone? Have they already fled and left Blanche behind? No, they wouldn't do that. Not even the most cowardly of their knights would be so stupid.
But somehow... he's not surprised. It's almost like he expected this, and he continues to follow Blanche without pausing. She doesn't seem all that bothered either, but she is the queen. She likely realizes that she can't afford to stop and wonder about everyone else right now.]
A storm like this isn't natural. It can't be. If normal storms could get this fierce, then the castle would have fallen long ago. So if it isn't natural, then magic would be likely, correct?
[It's still a bit of a wild conclusion to jump to - especially with how certain he is about it - but that really is the only explanation, isn't it? A storm like this can't be natural.]
[...This is entirely too many coincidences. Even if Alaric is just making a shot in the dark, him saying that...it feels like something she should remember. It feels like it's true. But how? What kind of mage would have that kind of power?]
...It would be, yes. But who? To wield magic like this must take someone incredibly strong, and I haven't heard anything about...
[Anyone experimenting with that kind of magic. But the words die as she keeps thinking, Blanche seeming almost disoriented. The storm strikes again--a blow that makes the entire building shudder, and Blanche grimaces. They can't keep focusing on this--nor the servant quarters, which Blanche bypasses entirely. There's no one in the few open doors--it would be a waste of time to check on them.
It isn't long before they get to the stairs, and--]
Ah...Alaric, look. The stairs here, they're...
[Part of the wall has crumbled in, and that's going to make the descent difficult. But this too feels familiar--the awful joke she made at her mother's expense, Alaric carrying her down the stairs, and--]
...Why does this feel so familiar...?
[Blanche doesn't like this. She doesn't like this at all. It's a quiet question, but it's no doubt one that Alaric will hear.]
[Experimenting with weather magic like this... Surely word would have reached them if someone had been spotted doing something like this. And yet for some reason, he thinks he knows exactly where that mage is located. But that's... That's impossible. He doesn't even know that it is a mage, so why—
That thought dies when they reach the stairs. The wall has crumbled in, wrecking portions of the stairs and making it difficult to get down easily. Already he's pinpointing the places he needs to stand on to scale down the wreckage with Blanche in tow, but it isn't the sort of calculations he usually does. This is certainty; he knows those spots will be safe and hold them.
Blanche's words get him to glance over, and for a long moment, his expression is cautious. Calculating. It isn't the sort of thing he usually wears around her as he tries to work out exactly what the hell any of this is.]
It's... like a twisted sense of deja vu, isn't it? I feel like we've done this before, like I've picked you up and carried down this wreckage before.
[And out onto that field and...]
Look, we don't have time to think about it right now. Come on, we need to get out of here.
[And yes, that does mean he's going to grab Blanche and pick her up without her permission but that's fine, probably!!]
Yes...yes, that's exactly it. You told me that you could carry me down the wreckage of these stairs, and we were able to descend them effectively before--!
[--Before getting picked up and promptly yelping as she's picked up!! Because someone around here's a heathen who can't even let a woman get her thoughts in order!! Rude!!!]
Y-You are certainly right, but a little more warning would have been nice...!
[Don't worry, she's holding on! Just. Just get us down the stairs already buddy, don't slip and fall on us now. Also please tell her you're letting her down after this???]
Sorry, Your Majesty, but we don't exactly have time to be wasting here.
[Something big is coming. Not just the storm, but there's something else they need to outrun. He's not sure what it is, but there's something he knows is going to happen somewhere out in that field that they're going to have to pass through to get to the forest.
The descent is easy - he knows exactly where to land, after all. Once he's on solid ground again, he considers putting Blanche down, but instead tightens his grip on her.]
Trust me, okay?
[If he's right (and of course he is) then they need to hurry. With that thought in mind, Alaric rushes out of the cover of the castle's walls and out toward the field - he isn't going to stop until they're safely in the woods, and hopefully that will be good enough to avoid... whatever it is that's about to happen.]
[Yes, she knows that, but the least you can do is give a woman some warning!! Blanche finds that she can't exactly complain though, especially as Alaric is descending. She'd rather they both not wind up dying here, so she's content to just hold on tightly and pray for the best.
Once they're on solid ground again, it's a different story. Blanche is ready to get off, but then bafflingly, Alaric tightens his grip on her. This...isn't how it's supposed to go--but Alaric asks her to trust him, and...
...Well, the answer is obvious, isn't it?]
Of course, Alaric. By your lead.
[This doesn't feel right. If she's not down there running with him, something bad's going to happen, she knows it is, but--well, Alaric is off like a shot. The storm is still raging outside, and Blanche's eyes look to the sky itself. She's not sure why she's looking at first, but then it hits her.
Lightning. She remembers it, she remembers calculating it in her head--and that same strike is brewing overhead. He has to run, he's running faster than she's ever seen and Blanche is holding on for dear life--
He outruns the strike. It strikes the ground, several feet from where Alaric was, and Blanche's heart jumps into her chest at the sight of it. She remembers pain--searing pain, pain that put her well out of commission until Alaric himself stopped deep in the woods and she came too.
Knights can be replaced. Queens can't.
...He just saved both of their lives, didn't they? It takes a few seconds once Alaric has finally stopped, once they finally have a moment to breathe, and Blanche is able to get her bearings after all of that.]
...That strike was supposed to hit one of us, wasn't it?
[The forest is in sight and he knows his own strength and speed better than anyone else; they'll make it in record time. It should be fast enough. He can almost tell exactly what's supposed to happen, but he doesn't allow himself to think about it at all. If he stops to think, they die.
The loud crack and the simultaneous lightning strike answers that question, and if he'd been even a second slower, they both would have been hit. He doesn't stop and he doesn't allow himself to think about it, because he doesn't know if there will be a second one that follows. With (magic) a storm like this, there's no telling what will happen.
They reach the forest and Alaric only stops once they're further in, where there are plenty of trees for the lightning to target instead of them. He sets Blanche down gently and takes a moment to catch his breath.
If he's being perfectly honest with himself, he'd rather not consider just how close they were to dying, and how he knew that something would happen, even if he didn't know exactly what it was. That doesn't seem possible. That's the sort of stupidity people claim to have all the time - seeing the future, being able to predict your fate, that kind of bullshit. None of it is real. So how exactly is this something he - and Blanche - knew would happen?]
...Yeah. I... You were going to be hit by it.
[It occurs to him as he says it that yes, that's exactly what would have happened. He doesn't exactly see it so much as he feels it - he knows that's what was supposed to happen. There's more to it than that, though; the feeling that she got hurt on his behalf, the terror at the thought of losing her because of his own stupid mistake—
They're outside now and relatively safe. There isn't anything else he can focus on but these thoughts. But gods above if he doesn't wish he could have anything else to keep himself busy right now.]
You felt it too, didn't you?
[Not the lightning strike, the knowledge of what was supposed to happen.]
[And all at once, the possibility sinks in. No, not possibility; once is circumstance, sure. The knowledge that there was no one there, that something had happened like a bad dream. Twice is coincidence; the fact that their paths deteriorated in the same places every time could just be the work of the storm, or of the mage controlling it.
Thrice is happenstance, and objectively speaking, there has to be something to this. There's just too many coincidences here to think otherwise.]
...Yes, I did. I wasn't certain what to think, and yet...every corridor, just about everything we did--it felt as if we had done it before. And objectively speaking...there were far too many coincidences.
[This is screwed up. More than screwed up, this is horrifying. If everything they faced was real, then it can't have been just a dream, could it?
Blanche's expression is...conflicted, really, and she's keeping a close eye on Alaric too. If they accept this is real, then they'll have to accept the rest of it too--or maybe they'll have to see it for themselves. They'll have to confront it, and she can only hope he doesn't confront her about--
The storm still rages overhead; lightning thankfully hits a tree in the distance, and it causes Blanche to jolt. Too far away to be seen by the mage now, she supposes, but it almost feels like a warning. And...one that didn't happen when they were here last time.]
...Come, Alaric. Let us walk; perhaps we can make more sense of all of this as we do, yes?
[Blanche feels a strange urge to reach out and grab his shoulder, really--something to ground him in reality a bit, but she refrains. If he needs it, she'll offer, but for now...for now they need to remain calm, don't they?]
[The lightning strike draws his gaze in that direction, and he remains looking over there as he tries to figure out if that's familiar. No, he eventually decides, it isn't. So it seems like not everything is coming with that strange sense - that strange forewarning. That's a good thing, he thinks.]
Right. Yeah. Let's go.
[Blanche is as composed as always, and she's less shaken by this than he is, from the sound of it. He starts toward the direction of the closest town without a second thought, but it takes him a moment to speak up again.]
There's a town called Landow not all that far from here. We should be able to gather some more information about the storm there.
[And the missing people, but...]
I doubt it'll be a peaceful visit, though.
[He doesn't know exactly what awaits them there, but he's confident that they're going to have to fight. At this point, fighting would be a blessing. It means he can shut these thoughts out for a little while and focus on what he does best.]
[It's strange, really; if this is all true, she'd been panicking pretty badly at the beginning of all of this, and it was Alaric's words that kept her calm in the face of all of this. In the face of missing people, a destroyed castle, and a mystery that inevitably saw them killed the first time they attempted to solve it.
Blanche won't make that mistake again. Not when her knight seems so frazzled by this; she's not going to call him on it. Not when there are things that need to be taken care of in town, certainly. Blanche nods her head in agreement; at the doubt that it'll be a peaceful visit. Somehow, she has a feeling they're going to be dealing with a lot...]
...Let us hope that it is an uneventful visit.
[Unfortunately for them, it's not. It plays out all the same for them; the town is under attack and the people are evacuating. The bandits themselves are easily dispatched; Blanche ensures that none of them escape, while Alaric goes off ahead to deal with them. It's a little strangely encumbering to fight in her nightgown without the tears the weather and she herself made, but she gets through it no worse for wear.
The townspeople are as thankful as ever to their saviors, and Blanche herself heals up some of the townsfolk. But of course, Alaric does seem a little frazzled after all of that...so Blanche opts to order him to scout the rest of the town out instead. It'll be something different to do rather than question all of the townsfolk again; she figures that he'll appreciate it. Especially if there are any bandits waiting for their friends on the outskirts. (Read: there certainly will be, have fun, Alaric.) The old woman tells him to come by the inn later, though, and she'll have a room set up.
Blanche questions the townspeople, and it's more of the same; the old woman talking of the disappearances, the sailor talking about his travels through Vernier territory, but the cleric is a little different. The cleric seems...honestly, genuinely nervous around her. For as calm and queenly as Blanche keeps her tone, the Cleric would almost rather be anywhere than here, and it's a bit of a surprise when she offers to heal the woman's arm. Blanche isn't able to do much, but it gives feeling back into the woman's arm; in thanks, the woman gives her a protective charm. Something to keep people safe from harmful magic, just as it did for her in her time of need.
Blanche follows the old woman to her inn easily, and while she isn't able to get any alcohol for Alaric (a pity; she knows he has a fondness for it, but it's already taken up by the sailors), the old woman brews some nice fruity tea for the both of them. Blanche doesn't exactly have the heart to tell her that she prefers her tea very bitter, but she can deal with a little sweetness. Unlike Alaric when he got a taste of the kind of tea Blanche likes.
The thought makes her lips quirk in thought, and she brings everything to their shared room. It should only be a matter of time before Alaric gets back, after all, and she's certain he'll want something unfamiliar. ...Even if she has grabbed some thread and a needle again in case he's inevitably ripped his favorite clothes.]
[It isn't an uneventful visit, but there's something strangely calming about falling back into fighting. It matters far less there if something feels familiar or off - Alaric is one who always reacts on instinct anyway, so that isn't any different from the norm. He's doing a little better after the fight, but Blanche sees through him as always, and orders to him to scout out the rest of the town. It's an excuse to be away from people - he won't have to have conversations that are entirely too similar and he won't have to talk about it with her for a little while at least, and that's good enough in Alaric's book.
Of course, it helps that there are bandits to fight out here. He doesn't stray too far from the town, but he does happen to come across a smaller bandit encampment not all that far away. It's likely where these guys came from today, so it would be irresponsible to just leave them there, right? Anyway, irresponsible or not, Alaric slays the lot of them and returns to town as it's starting to get dark. He makes his way to the inn, thanking the innkeeper when she greets him and he finds Blanche in their shared room.
For a moment he simply leans back against the door, but finally he locks it and comes over.]
Before you ask, yes I was injured, and no, it isn't anything serious.
[He holds out his arm, revealing a long, slender cut down his forearm. It's severed through his sleeve again... The cut this time is thick enough to bleed, but it isn't a terrible injury either; it would likely heal up just fine on its own, but Alaric doesn't lie about or hide injuries from Blanche.]
Did you prepare this?
[He inclines his head to indicate the tea already set out. It smells nice; light and sweet and definitely nothing to Blanche's own taste which is why he's questioning it...
Anyway, Alaric is doing better now; he's returned to his usual laidback attitude and calm smile, at least.]
[Blanche turns when Alaric locks the door of the room behind him and comes over; her expression is still the same as ever, but her gaze is a little softer than it's usual, at least. Though she gives a small noise of assent at his rather blunt injury report.]
Thank you for letting me know. Now take a seat and give it here; I will patch you up.
[...She's gonna take his arm if he doesn't give it to her, so give it over here boy--]
Oh, goodness no. I don't trust myself with more delicate teas. [Blanche shakes her head in response to that.] The kind woman from the inn made it for us. I thought you might like something to drink, after all of your hard work today.
[It's the nicer way of putting that; calling it something new to help him be a little less frazzled might just make him upset. They both know she can see right through him, but...it does please Blanche that he seems to be better than he was earlier.]
[He sighs like her request is so much to comply with, but he holds out his arm for her to examine easily enough as he takes a seat.]
I appreciate it. I'll give her my thanks tomorrow as well.
[He knows why Blanche asked for it; it's something different. This isn't what happened last time - this is... normal is a bit of a stretch given the situation, but it's a slice of normalcy in an otherwise horrible day. Who knew that foresight would actually be horrible in practice??
While she patches up his arm (which likely won't take long at all), he takes a sip of the tea, nodding appreciatively.]
[It definitely won't take long; Blanche works to make sure the wound is nice and closed up, and especially that it won't scar. It isn't too much to take care of, and she'll give him his arm back once she's done and scoff a bit at his statement.]
Oh, come now. I doubt it will be that bad.
[There's a quirk of something amused on Blanche's face when she says that--trust her, she's been smelling the damn thing this entire time, she knows it's gonna be too sweet--and yet she delicately takes a sip from her cup, and she's...
...Well, her face is just puckering because good lord that's sweet.]
P-Perhaps I spoke too soon. [It's not bad given that she's taking another sip, but--] But I am glad that you are finding it to your liking. Even if I grow to judge your taste in tea more every second.
[Don't worry, she's joking. Mostly.]
Edited (that was confusing wording) 2021-01-09 06:22 (UTC)
[Ugh, you're insufferable!! Why does she like you, anyway. Blanche just promptly sticks her nose into the air with a bit of an exaggerated 'hmph!' and takes another sip of pure liquid suffering.]
Yes, yes, I suppose so.
[But don't worry, she's not put out at all. It'd be obvious if she was, but right now, this bit of levity is nice. And that laugh is nice too.]
Why yes, I would deeply appreciate that. I want tea that's as bitter and decrepit as my soul, Alaric. By royal decree; anything less, and you'll be the one drinking it.
[Alaric rests a hand on his chest and bows as low as he can at that.]
Your wish is my command as always, Your Majesty. I shall personally ensure that any and all disgustingly sweet tea is disposed of so you need not trouble yourself with such things.
[Of course, he's smirking like an asshole when he rises and raises his cup in a toast.]
So let me know when you're done with yours and I'll finish it off.
[...She takes it all back, you're the best, Alaric. Blanche has to use her free hand to hide the strange mirth that overcomes her. Is that a chuckle?? From the stone-faced Queen??? Perish the thought!!]
Excellent. I knew I could count on you for such important tasks, Sir Alaric.
[Blanche will gladly raise her glass in a toast as well.]
Gladly, however. You have my word.
[Blanche is able to finish her tea quickly enough, at least. It's just like eating one's vegetables as a child; you hold your breath, stuff it all down, and pretend it doesn't taste like boiled garbage!! Easy as ever, 10/10. Blanche does signal that she's done, however, putting her glass back on the little plate.]
...I am glad that you do seem to be doing much better than you were earlier.
[Hopefully you didn't think you were going to avoid feeling forever, Alaric, but...it's a light brooch of the subject. If he has anything on his mind, she'll hear it.]
[That gets another bow from where he's sitting, but this one is an overly-flourished one as opposed to anything pretending to be formal. Entertaining the queen is not part of his job, but he's one of the few who can.
But naturally, she does shift the topic back around to something less-than-pleasant. Alaric doesn't bother trying to fight it - he knows better. If he resists, Blanche will decide it's important and that they must discuss it, and that would just make things even worse.]
I am, yes. I needed some time and space to clear my head.
[...and also some murder??]
Incidentally, the bandits had a camp not too far outside the village; it's been taken care of. I didn't see any signs of any others or other possible encampments, but that doesn't mean they don't exist.
[It's a report, partially because she needs to know where he was and what he was doing, and partially because Alaric doesn't really know what else to say.]
[...He really doesn't know what else to say, does he?
Blanche isn't exactly great at this. Dealing with her own feelings tends to be an exercise in locking them tightly away in her mind like a fine aged wine even on a good day. And on bad days like these, it leaks through and tints her demeanor. This isn't something she knows how to deal with herself; how can she possibly help her friend?
It isn't going to stop Blanche, but...her usual approach won't work for this, she's sure. She doesn't want to upset him.]
Excellent work. Taking care of even one encampment will do wonders for giving this village some peace of mind tonight. And those miscreants deserved everything that they got.
[...So she's not judging the murder, basically, it's bandits after all??? Their deaths will keep the townspeople safe. It's Totally Fine.]
...Today has been rather disorienting, however. You are not alone in such a feeling, you know.
[Maybe they can start there? Blanche is trying to gently needle a bit (...which she should be doing with his uniform too, now that she thinks of it--) but this is...new territory that she's unfortunately woefully inexperienced in.]
[Alaric nods at the first part, but... well, of course he's not going to get away with just that. Blanche continues and Alaric's gaze darts. He rests his elbow on the arm of the chair and then his chin on his hand, looking out the window.]
It's not something that should be happening, and I don't know how it's possible. I don't like it.
[That's putting it very simply, but that is what it comes down to.]
It's not... That's not how I do things. I plan and calculate and consider - and when I mess up, those mistakes are my own. It's... difficult, to feel like I've lost control over making my own decisions, because these visions or whatever are showing me that there isn't a decision to be made.
[.....isn't that getting hung up on the wrong thing entirely?? Alaric groans.]
[Blanche stays patient; her gaze follows his out the window, simply watching everything. In a way, it'll probably help because she's not staring directly at him. That's the hope, at the very least.]
Neither do I. None of this makes even the slightest bit of sense. It's incredibly disorienting, even if such things seem to be trying to keep us alive.
[...She's not gonna comment on the lack of agency--she knows what Alaric means at the very least, even if at the very least to her, it seems almost...strangely comforting. To know what will happen ahead of time and plan accordingly. But she can understand where it would upset him.]
...I understand what you mean, however. It feels like something is being taken from you. [...Blanche's gaze goes to the floor for a moment, considering, but--] ...What I don't like is that this all feels...pre-determined. It almost feels as if...
[Blanche pauses and considers her words, before shaking her head. No, there's no way it's actually happened before. That's insane, isn't it?]
...No, I must be losing my head. Whatever this is, I do not like it.
[He considers it for a moment but then shakes his head.]
I know it isn't a bad thing. If it keeps you safe, it can never be a bad thing. But it's... frustrating, I suppose.
[There isn't really a way to explain how much he values his own agency and his own choices, or how proud he is of how far he's made it on his own power. If he'd always been able to predict the future like this it would have made things infinitely easier - but that takes away from the struggles that got them to this point. Will it always be like this going forward? Will they always know what not to do?
Another groan and Alaric slumps back in the chair.]
No sense putting too much thought into it right now, I suppose. We still need to figure out what caused that storm. There's more to worry about here than this.
[And as little as he likes it, it is useful to them.]
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no subject
This weird sense of deja vu doesn't matter. He needs to focus. He isn't usually so scatterbrained.]
I don't know. A storm like this shouldn't be strong enough to damage the castle.
[The windows, maybe, but the stonework itself? Never. This castle would have crumbled long before their time if that was the case. So what could be causing it?]
Maybe it's—
[magic.
He shakes his head quickly and moves to descend the stairs down to the kitchens.]
Come on, let's see if we can find anyone.
[...They won't, will they? Everyone will be gone (again) and they'll need to get out of here before the storm threatens to bring the whole castle down.]
no subject
But how does she know this?
Either way, they'll make it down to the kitchens easily, and just like clockwork, there's no one there. It's as if everyone's been plucked from their spots once again, and it's...
Blanche is shaking again, but she knows they need to move. Blanche leads the way instead, retracing an almost certain path as the building shakes again and any way back is blocked.]
...Alaric. What do you think that this may be?
[It's a calm question with no sense of judgement. For as much as Blanche can try to be calm in this situation, anyway.]
no subject
But somehow... he's not surprised. It's almost like he expected this, and he continues to follow Blanche without pausing. She doesn't seem all that bothered either, but she is the queen. She likely realizes that she can't afford to stop and wonder about everyone else right now.]
A storm like this isn't natural. It can't be. If normal storms could get this fierce, then the castle would have fallen long ago. So if it isn't natural, then magic would be likely, correct?
[It's still a bit of a wild conclusion to jump to - especially with how certain he is about it - but that really is the only explanation, isn't it? A storm like this can't be natural.]
no subject
...It would be, yes. But who? To wield magic like this must take someone incredibly strong, and I haven't heard anything about...
[Anyone experimenting with that kind of magic. But the words die as she keeps thinking, Blanche seeming almost disoriented. The storm strikes again--a blow that makes the entire building shudder, and Blanche grimaces. They can't keep focusing on this--nor the servant quarters, which Blanche bypasses entirely. There's no one in the few open doors--it would be a waste of time to check on them.
It isn't long before they get to the stairs, and--]
Ah...Alaric, look. The stairs here, they're...
[Part of the wall has crumbled in, and that's going to make the descent difficult. But this too feels familiar--the awful joke she made at her mother's expense, Alaric carrying her down the stairs, and--]
...Why does this feel so familiar...?
[Blanche doesn't like this. She doesn't like this at all. It's a quiet question, but it's no doubt one that Alaric will hear.]
no subject
That thought dies when they reach the stairs. The wall has crumbled in, wrecking portions of the stairs and making it difficult to get down easily. Already he's pinpointing the places he needs to stand on to scale down the wreckage with Blanche in tow, but it isn't the sort of calculations he usually does. This is certainty; he knows those spots will be safe and hold them.
Blanche's words get him to glance over, and for a long moment, his expression is cautious. Calculating. It isn't the sort of thing he usually wears around her as he tries to work out exactly what the hell any of this is.]
It's... like a twisted sense of deja vu, isn't it? I feel like we've done this before, like I've picked you up and carried down this wreckage before.
[And out onto that field and...]
Look, we don't have time to think about it right now. Come on, we need to get out of here.
[And yes, that does mean he's going to grab Blanche and pick her up without her permission but that's fine, probably!!]
no subject
Yes...yes, that's exactly it. You told me that you could carry me down the wreckage of these stairs, and we were able to descend them effectively before--!
[--Before getting picked up and promptly yelping as she's picked up!! Because someone around here's a heathen who can't even let a woman get her thoughts in order!! Rude!!!]
Y-You are certainly right, but a little more warning would have been nice...!
[Don't worry, she's holding on! Just. Just get us down the stairs already buddy, don't slip and fall on us now. Also please tell her you're letting her down after this???]
no subject
[Something big is coming. Not just the storm, but there's something else they need to outrun. He's not sure what it is, but there's something he knows is going to happen somewhere out in that field that they're going to have to pass through to get to the forest.
The descent is easy - he knows exactly where to land, after all. Once he's on solid ground again, he considers putting Blanche down, but instead tightens his grip on her.]
Trust me, okay?
[If he's right (and of course he is) then they need to hurry. With that thought in mind, Alaric rushes out of the cover of the castle's walls and out toward the field - he isn't going to stop until they're safely in the woods, and hopefully that will be good enough to avoid... whatever it is that's about to happen.]
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Once they're on solid ground again, it's a different story. Blanche is ready to get off, but then bafflingly, Alaric tightens his grip on her. This...isn't how it's supposed to go--but Alaric asks her to trust him, and...
...Well, the answer is obvious, isn't it?]
Of course, Alaric. By your lead.
[This doesn't feel right. If she's not down there running with him, something bad's going to happen, she knows it is, but--well, Alaric is off like a shot. The storm is still raging outside, and Blanche's eyes look to the sky itself. She's not sure why she's looking at first, but then it hits her.
Lightning. She remembers it, she remembers calculating it in her head--and that same strike is brewing overhead. He has to run, he's running faster than she's ever seen and Blanche is holding on for dear life--
He outruns the strike. It strikes the ground, several feet from where Alaric was, and Blanche's heart jumps into her chest at the sight of it. She remembers pain--searing pain, pain that put her well out of commission until Alaric himself stopped deep in the woods and she came too.
Knights can be replaced. Queens can't.
...He just saved both of their lives, didn't they? It takes a few seconds once Alaric has finally stopped, once they finally have a moment to breathe, and Blanche is able to get her bearings after all of that.]
...That strike was supposed to hit one of us, wasn't it?
[Not just hit. Kill.]
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The loud crack and the simultaneous lightning strike answers that question, and if he'd been even a second slower, they both would have been hit. He doesn't stop and he doesn't allow himself to think about it, because he doesn't know if there will be a second one that follows. With (magic) a storm like this, there's no telling what will happen.
They reach the forest and Alaric only stops once they're further in, where there are plenty of trees for the lightning to target instead of them. He sets Blanche down gently and takes a moment to catch his breath.
If he's being perfectly honest with himself, he'd rather not consider just how close they were to dying, and how he knew that something would happen, even if he didn't know exactly what it was. That doesn't seem possible. That's the sort of stupidity people claim to have all the time - seeing the future, being able to predict your fate, that kind of bullshit. None of it is real. So how exactly is this something he - and Blanche - knew would happen?]
...Yeah. I... You were going to be hit by it.
[It occurs to him as he says it that yes, that's exactly what would have happened. He doesn't exactly see it so much as he feels it - he knows that's what was supposed to happen. There's more to it than that, though; the feeling that she got hurt on his behalf, the terror at the thought of losing her because of his own stupid mistake—
They're outside now and relatively safe. There isn't anything else he can focus on but these thoughts. But gods above if he doesn't wish he could have anything else to keep himself busy right now.]
You felt it too, didn't you?
[Not the lightning strike, the knowledge of what was supposed to happen.]
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Thrice is happenstance, and objectively speaking, there has to be something to this. There's just too many coincidences here to think otherwise.]
...Yes, I did. I wasn't certain what to think, and yet...every corridor, just about everything we did--it felt as if we had done it before. And objectively speaking...there were far too many coincidences.
[This is screwed up. More than screwed up, this is horrifying. If everything they faced was real, then it can't have been just a dream, could it?
Blanche's expression is...conflicted, really, and she's keeping a close eye on Alaric too. If they accept this is real, then they'll have to accept the rest of it too--or maybe they'll have to see it for themselves. They'll have to confront it, and she can only hope he doesn't confront her about--
The storm still rages overhead; lightning thankfully hits a tree in the distance, and it causes Blanche to jolt. Too far away to be seen by the mage now, she supposes, but it almost feels like a warning. And...one that didn't happen when they were here last time.]
...Come, Alaric. Let us walk; perhaps we can make more sense of all of this as we do, yes?
[Blanche feels a strange urge to reach out and grab his shoulder, really--something to ground him in reality a bit, but she refrains. If he needs it, she'll offer, but for now...for now they need to remain calm, don't they?]
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Right. Yeah. Let's go.
[Blanche is as composed as always, and she's less shaken by this than he is, from the sound of it. He starts toward the direction of the closest town without a second thought, but it takes him a moment to speak up again.]
There's a town called Landow not all that far from here. We should be able to gather some more information about the storm there.
[And the missing people, but...]
I doubt it'll be a peaceful visit, though.
[He doesn't know exactly what awaits them there, but he's confident that they're going to have to fight. At this point, fighting would be a blessing. It means he can shut these thoughts out for a little while and focus on what he does best.]
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Blanche won't make that mistake again. Not when her knight seems so frazzled by this; she's not going to call him on it. Not when there are things that need to be taken care of in town, certainly. Blanche nods her head in agreement; at the doubt that it'll be a peaceful visit. Somehow, she has a feeling they're going to be dealing with a lot...]
...Let us hope that it is an uneventful visit.
[Unfortunately for them, it's not. It plays out all the same for them; the town is under attack and the people are evacuating. The bandits themselves are easily dispatched; Blanche ensures that none of them escape, while Alaric goes off ahead to deal with them. It's a little strangely encumbering to fight in her nightgown without the tears the weather and she herself made, but she gets through it no worse for wear.
The townspeople are as thankful as ever to their saviors, and Blanche herself heals up some of the townsfolk. But of course, Alaric does seem a little frazzled after all of that...so Blanche opts to order him to scout the rest of the town out instead. It'll be something different to do rather than question all of the townsfolk again; she figures that he'll appreciate it. Especially if there are any bandits waiting for their friends on the outskirts. (Read: there certainly will be, have fun, Alaric.) The old woman tells him to come by the inn later, though, and she'll have a room set up.
Blanche questions the townspeople, and it's more of the same; the old woman talking of the disappearances, the sailor talking about his travels through Vernier territory, but the cleric is a little different. The cleric seems...honestly, genuinely nervous around her. For as calm and queenly as Blanche keeps her tone, the Cleric would almost rather be anywhere than here, and it's a bit of a surprise when she offers to heal the woman's arm. Blanche isn't able to do much, but it gives feeling back into the woman's arm; in thanks, the woman gives her a protective charm. Something to keep people safe from harmful magic, just as it did for her in her time of need.
Blanche follows the old woman to her inn easily, and while she isn't able to get any alcohol for Alaric (a pity; she knows he has a fondness for it, but it's already taken up by the sailors), the old woman brews some nice fruity tea for the both of them. Blanche doesn't exactly have the heart to tell her that she prefers her tea very bitter, but she can deal with a little sweetness. Unlike Alaric when he got a taste of the kind of tea Blanche likes.
The thought makes her lips quirk in thought, and she brings everything to their shared room. It should only be a matter of time before Alaric gets back, after all, and she's certain he'll want something unfamiliar. ...Even if she has grabbed some thread and a needle again in case he's inevitably ripped his favorite clothes.]
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Of course, it helps that there are bandits to fight out here. He doesn't stray too far from the town, but he does happen to come across a smaller bandit encampment not all that far away. It's likely where these guys came from today, so it would be irresponsible to just leave them there, right? Anyway, irresponsible or not, Alaric slays the lot of them and returns to town as it's starting to get dark. He makes his way to the inn, thanking the innkeeper when she greets him and he finds Blanche in their shared room.
For a moment he simply leans back against the door, but finally he locks it and comes over.]
Before you ask, yes I was injured, and no, it isn't anything serious.
[He holds out his arm, revealing a long, slender cut down his forearm. It's severed through his sleeve again... The cut this time is thick enough to bleed, but it isn't a terrible injury either; it would likely heal up just fine on its own, but Alaric doesn't lie about or hide injuries from Blanche.]
Did you prepare this?
[He inclines his head to indicate the tea already set out. It smells nice; light and sweet and definitely nothing to Blanche's own taste which is why he's questioning it...
Anyway, Alaric is doing better now; he's returned to his usual laidback attitude and calm smile, at least.]
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Thank you for letting me know. Now take a seat and give it here; I will patch you up.
[...She's gonna take his arm if he doesn't give it to her, so give it over here boy--]
Oh, goodness no. I don't trust myself with more delicate teas. [Blanche shakes her head in response to that.] The kind woman from the inn made it for us. I thought you might like something to drink, after all of your hard work today.
[It's the nicer way of putting that; calling it something new to help him be a little less frazzled might just make him upset. They both know she can see right through him, but...it does please Blanche that he seems to be better than he was earlier.]
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I appreciate it. I'll give her my thanks tomorrow as well.
[He knows why Blanche asked for it; it's something different. This isn't what happened last time - this is... normal is a bit of a stretch given the situation, but it's a slice of normalcy in an otherwise horrible day. Who knew that foresight would actually be horrible in practice??
While she patches up his arm (which likely won't take long at all), he takes a sip of the tea, nodding appreciatively.]
It's fantastic. You'll hate it.
[He's grinning at that, though.]
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Oh, come now. I doubt it will be that bad.
[There's a quirk of something amused on Blanche's face when she says that--trust her, she's been smelling the damn thing this entire time, she knows it's gonna be too sweet--and yet she delicately takes a sip from her cup, and she's...
...Well, her face is just puckering because good lord that's sweet.]
P-Perhaps I spoke too soon. [It's not bad given that she's taking another sip, but--] But I am glad that you are finding it to your liking. Even if I grow to judge your taste in tea more every second.
[Don't worry, she's joking. Mostly.]
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Judge all you want, doesn't stop me from being right.
[And with that cocky remark out there, he leans back in his chair as he takes another long sip.]
I we'll have to get something disgustingly bitter for you, hmm?
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Yes, yes, I suppose so.
[But don't worry, she's not put out at all. It'd be obvious if she was, but right now, this bit of levity is nice. And that laugh is nice too.]
Why yes, I would deeply appreciate that. I want tea that's as bitter and decrepit as my soul, Alaric. By royal decree; anything less, and you'll be the one drinking it.
[oh my god]
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Your wish is my command as always, Your Majesty. I shall personally ensure that any and all disgustingly sweet tea is disposed of so you need not trouble yourself with such things.
[Of course, he's smirking like an asshole when he rises and raises his cup in a toast.]
So let me know when you're done with yours and I'll finish it off.
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Excellent. I knew I could count on you for such important tasks, Sir Alaric.
[Blanche will gladly raise her glass in a toast as well.]
Gladly, however. You have my word.
[Blanche is able to finish her tea quickly enough, at least. It's just like eating one's vegetables as a child; you hold your breath, stuff it all down, and pretend it doesn't taste like boiled garbage!! Easy as ever, 10/10. Blanche does signal that she's done, however, putting her glass back on the little plate.]
...I am glad that you do seem to be doing much better than you were earlier.
[Hopefully you didn't think you were going to avoid feeling forever, Alaric, but...it's a light brooch of the subject. If he has anything on his mind, she'll hear it.]
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But naturally, she does shift the topic back around to something less-than-pleasant. Alaric doesn't bother trying to fight it - he knows better. If he resists, Blanche will decide it's important and that they must discuss it, and that would just make things even worse.]
I am, yes. I needed some time and space to clear my head.
[...and also some murder??]
Incidentally, the bandits had a camp not too far outside the village; it's been taken care of. I didn't see any signs of any others or other possible encampments, but that doesn't mean they don't exist.
[It's a report, partially because she needs to know where he was and what he was doing, and partially because Alaric doesn't really know what else to say.]
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Blanche isn't exactly great at this. Dealing with her own feelings tends to be an exercise in locking them tightly away in her mind like a fine aged wine even on a good day. And on bad days like these, it leaks through and tints her demeanor. This isn't something she knows how to deal with herself; how can she possibly help her friend?
It isn't going to stop Blanche, but...her usual approach won't work for this, she's sure. She doesn't want to upset him.]
Excellent work. Taking care of even one encampment will do wonders for giving this village some peace of mind tonight. And those miscreants deserved everything that they got.
[...So she's not judging the murder, basically, it's bandits after all??? Their deaths will keep the townspeople safe. It's Totally Fine.]
...Today has been rather disorienting, however. You are not alone in such a feeling, you know.
[Maybe they can start there? Blanche is trying to gently needle a bit (...which she should be doing with his uniform too, now that she thinks of it--) but this is...new territory that she's unfortunately woefully inexperienced in.]
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It's not something that should be happening, and I don't know how it's possible. I don't like it.
[That's putting it very simply, but that is what it comes down to.]
It's not... That's not how I do things. I plan and calculate and consider - and when I mess up, those mistakes are my own. It's... difficult, to feel like I've lost control over making my own decisions, because these visions or whatever are showing me that there isn't a decision to be made.
[.....isn't that getting hung up on the wrong thing entirely?? Alaric groans.]
I don't know how to explain it. I don't like it.
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Neither do I. None of this makes even the slightest bit of sense. It's incredibly disorienting, even if such things seem to be trying to keep us alive.
[...She's not gonna comment on the lack of agency--she knows what Alaric means at the very least, even if at the very least to her, it seems almost...strangely comforting. To know what will happen ahead of time and plan accordingly. But she can understand where it would upset him.]
...I understand what you mean, however. It feels like something is being taken from you. [...Blanche's gaze goes to the floor for a moment, considering, but--] ...What I don't like is that this all feels...pre-determined. It almost feels as if...
[Blanche pauses and considers her words, before shaking her head. No, there's no way it's actually happened before. That's insane, isn't it?]
...No, I must be losing my head. Whatever this is, I do not like it.
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[He considers it for a moment but then shakes his head.]
I know it isn't a bad thing. If it keeps you safe, it can never be a bad thing. But it's... frustrating, I suppose.
[There isn't really a way to explain how much he values his own agency and his own choices, or how proud he is of how far he's made it on his own power. If he'd always been able to predict the future like this it would have made things infinitely easier - but that takes away from the struggles that got them to this point. Will it always be like this going forward? Will they always know what not to do?
Another groan and Alaric slumps back in the chair.]
No sense putting too much thought into it right now, I suppose. We still need to figure out what caused that storm. There's more to worry about here than this.
[And as little as he likes it, it is useful to them.]
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