Spark in darkness - 103: Morning curses
Oct. 18th, 2009 01:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessI. Hate. Writing. Dialogue.
That is all
Morning arrived and, sick of me ignoring it, finally managed to batter me awake. I hate mornings, I hate being awake in them, I hate the morning sunlight that’s fucking bright and eye-burny.
And there’s reality. Or, whatever, tangible reality then. When you’re asleep your brain can wander and travel and astral zoom all over the place, across the land, between realms - your spirit just one of the billions of spirits out there and you can experience the whole world so much deeper and bigger and greater than you can imagine - and there’s so much MORE to the world when you’re floating immersed in it. Even when you’re just laid, relaxed, on the edge of sleep you can quest around and let your spirit fly - I can’t describe it, it’s just amazing.
And then you have to wake up. Which really brings you down. Even as a shaman, my eyes and ears and crap all start shouting much louder than any spiritual sense. It makes getting up really fucking hard. Until I get coffee anyway. Coffee makes everything good.
Of course, seeing Darren sat opposite the bed makes it pretty damn good as well. Not as good as coffee, but pretty close. Especially in the black robe - almost as yummy as coffee.
He lowered his book and looked at the clock. Very obviously looked at the clock. In fact he did it twice in case I missed it.
“If you want me to look at the clock you could put a cup of coffee on it. Much more chance.” I threw a pillow at him. It missed. Damn early mornings. “How long have you been up, anyway?”
He picked up the pillow and put it back on the bed. “A couple of hours. There’s a tea tray on the desk, unless you’d like me to call down for lunch? Or maybe dinner?”
“Hours? Damn. I thought you were going to have a decent night’s sleep for once.” I fumbled for the coffee. It was still hot - steaming hot. Living in a magical castle had some major advantages. Sure, Camaalis were arrogant as fuck and had tortured my boyfriend for years - but they have a magic pot that keeps coffee hot and fresh forever. You’ve to admire that.
“I did have a decent night’s sleep.” He said. “I just don’t feel the need to have a decent day’s sleep as well.”
“Uh-huh,” the coffee? Pure heaven. Yeah I can forgive a lot if the coffee’s this good. “So you didn’t, say, stay up all night thinking about Mommy Dearest?”
He shrugged and put the book down carefully. “Not at all. I thought about why Camaalis never apologise.”
“Because they’re arrogant bastards?”
“That too. We don’t apologise because talk is cheap, words mean little and apologies are too often abused. Caomihe has taken the first step towards something - forgiveness, reconciliation, I don‘t know. If she takes the time and effort to take the rest of the stairs then I’ll be at the top waiting and I’ll deal with it then. If she gives up or gets tired half way then so be it, I‘m not coming half way down to help her.”
“You better not Darren, she doesn’t deserve it.”
“No. Besides this is distracting us from more important issues. Like the curse Kyernath has put on the staff in the castle.” Darren picked up the book again.
“Whoa whoa, back up. Curse.” The room fizzed out and I reached to the spirits of the walls. It’s amazing what Camaalis had built here - so many awakened spirits and all of them connected and communicating and supporting each other and the members of the house. A million spirits all diverse and different and even countering each other, but still acting as one, greater whole. I can’t even picture it. I think I could swim in the vast sea of spirits for days and never tire. Especially now when they were all calm and strong and throbbing with life and power and sheer awe inspiring greatness.
“The spirits don’t sense anything,” my voice cut through my spirit senses noisily all hollow and empty. Suddenly I felt something dark flow over everything. Something sick and rotten, something deep and dark and powerful and alien. Something that didn’t belong here, should not be here. Something every element of life tried to reject, something so wrong that nothing could abide its presence, but so powerful it eclipsed everything else, a vast dark stain that tainted everything in the room, overwhelming and consuming. It was like looking through tainted glass, or through tainted eyes, at a world through a begrimed filter, with mould and mildew choking everything and all the edges corroding and rotting and dying. It was so powerful that the hammering of it doubled me over like a first to the stomach.
“No, it’s subtle, I doubt the spirits can sense it. Is she the only one?” Darren asked, turning to the doorway. Fighting through the spiritual overload, I saw a small black cat stalk into the room. Ahrimdan, fucking typical. I took a deep, foul tasting breath and pulled back from my spirit sight. The demon was too overwhelming when my sense were open.
“No Master Darren. She is but one of many. The curse is virulent and jumps from person to person, hunting those with dim souls. It hast already leaped onto thy gifted lessers and soon thy kin will be victim.”
“Someone tell the shaman about this curse!” I growled, pouring a new coffee to try and get rid of the bad taste Ahrimadan had left in my mouth.
Darren put down the book and sighed. “It’s very subtle. I have to admire Kyernath - I knew of a thousand ways to kill using Sorcery but his delicate touch is masterful. I expected a curse that would destroy people, hurt them. I would have easily sensed it, so would Caoimhe for that matter. His curse is clever, it does no active damage at all.”
“It doesn’t hurt people?”
“It impedes growth and regeneration and is growing slowly stronger. It’s very clever,” Darren spoke quickly, he sounded really impressed. Yeah, that’s way too disturbing for this time in the morning.
“Sorcery is the essence of destruction - but because it’s the essence it doesn’t have to be used in a destructive manner, but it can be used to counter an opposite force - in the same way as a reactive ward may use the essence of Ice to counter burning. So Sorcery can be used to counter the essence of growth, birth and rebirth.”
I groaned. It was way too early in the morning for this. “So they stop growing. Wait, no,” I shook my head, trying to wake up think, Rick think. “They stop healing.”
“Not just healing. How many cells die every day? How many new cells are grown? The body rebuilds itself constantly, mitosis is a constant process of growth.” He said. “If you slow that down or even stop it, how long before daily attrition starts to tell?”
I blinked, the coffee beginning to kick in. “You’d wear out and die. It’s a fucking killing curse.”
“Yes,” he nodded. “A highly contagious and selective one - and one subtle enough to go utterly undetected by must standard forms of magical detection. If I wasn’t sensitive and searching for any application of Sorcery, I would have missed it. A non-Sorcerer? Would stand little chance.”
“So, why are we just sat here?” I scrabbled for my clothes, fully awake and ready to kick Sorcerer ass. Except not. Because you’d probably lose your foot and half your leg pulling that shit. But I’m definitely ready to say some really nasty things about him - oh yeah. Did I ever mention how not-fun fighting Sorcerers is? Because it totally isn’t.
“You weren’t awake. And I needed time to examine and unravel this.” He stood while I tried to hunt down my shoes. How the fuck did one get in the bathroom? They walk when I’m not watching them - it’s Ahrimadan’s fault. I have possessed shoes. “When you are ready we will speak with Doyle before this insidious threat spreads any further.”
I staggered up and followed him, feeling a little creeped out. Two attacks and he’d bare even started - both of them quiet enough and subtle enough that they completely flew under Camaalis radar. Camaalis missed it - they’re like the gods of the magical world. If Kyernath could do this to Camaalis - what was he doing elsewhere?
That is all
Morning arrived and, sick of me ignoring it, finally managed to batter me awake. I hate mornings, I hate being awake in them, I hate the morning sunlight that’s fucking bright and eye-burny.
And there’s reality. Or, whatever, tangible reality then. When you’re asleep your brain can wander and travel and astral zoom all over the place, across the land, between realms - your spirit just one of the billions of spirits out there and you can experience the whole world so much deeper and bigger and greater than you can imagine - and there’s so much MORE to the world when you’re floating immersed in it. Even when you’re just laid, relaxed, on the edge of sleep you can quest around and let your spirit fly - I can’t describe it, it’s just amazing.
And then you have to wake up. Which really brings you down. Even as a shaman, my eyes and ears and crap all start shouting much louder than any spiritual sense. It makes getting up really fucking hard. Until I get coffee anyway. Coffee makes everything good.
Of course, seeing Darren sat opposite the bed makes it pretty damn good as well. Not as good as coffee, but pretty close. Especially in the black robe - almost as yummy as coffee.
He lowered his book and looked at the clock. Very obviously looked at the clock. In fact he did it twice in case I missed it.
“If you want me to look at the clock you could put a cup of coffee on it. Much more chance.” I threw a pillow at him. It missed. Damn early mornings. “How long have you been up, anyway?”
He picked up the pillow and put it back on the bed. “A couple of hours. There’s a tea tray on the desk, unless you’d like me to call down for lunch? Or maybe dinner?”
“Hours? Damn. I thought you were going to have a decent night’s sleep for once.” I fumbled for the coffee. It was still hot - steaming hot. Living in a magical castle had some major advantages. Sure, Camaalis were arrogant as fuck and had tortured my boyfriend for years - but they have a magic pot that keeps coffee hot and fresh forever. You’ve to admire that.
“I did have a decent night’s sleep.” He said. “I just don’t feel the need to have a decent day’s sleep as well.”
“Uh-huh,” the coffee? Pure heaven. Yeah I can forgive a lot if the coffee’s this good. “So you didn’t, say, stay up all night thinking about Mommy Dearest?”
He shrugged and put the book down carefully. “Not at all. I thought about why Camaalis never apologise.”
“Because they’re arrogant bastards?”
“That too. We don’t apologise because talk is cheap, words mean little and apologies are too often abused. Caomihe has taken the first step towards something - forgiveness, reconciliation, I don‘t know. If she takes the time and effort to take the rest of the stairs then I’ll be at the top waiting and I’ll deal with it then. If she gives up or gets tired half way then so be it, I‘m not coming half way down to help her.”
“You better not Darren, she doesn’t deserve it.”
“No. Besides this is distracting us from more important issues. Like the curse Kyernath has put on the staff in the castle.” Darren picked up the book again.
“Whoa whoa, back up. Curse.” The room fizzed out and I reached to the spirits of the walls. It’s amazing what Camaalis had built here - so many awakened spirits and all of them connected and communicating and supporting each other and the members of the house. A million spirits all diverse and different and even countering each other, but still acting as one, greater whole. I can’t even picture it. I think I could swim in the vast sea of spirits for days and never tire. Especially now when they were all calm and strong and throbbing with life and power and sheer awe inspiring greatness.
“The spirits don’t sense anything,” my voice cut through my spirit senses noisily all hollow and empty. Suddenly I felt something dark flow over everything. Something sick and rotten, something deep and dark and powerful and alien. Something that didn’t belong here, should not be here. Something every element of life tried to reject, something so wrong that nothing could abide its presence, but so powerful it eclipsed everything else, a vast dark stain that tainted everything in the room, overwhelming and consuming. It was like looking through tainted glass, or through tainted eyes, at a world through a begrimed filter, with mould and mildew choking everything and all the edges corroding and rotting and dying. It was so powerful that the hammering of it doubled me over like a first to the stomach.
“No, it’s subtle, I doubt the spirits can sense it. Is she the only one?” Darren asked, turning to the doorway. Fighting through the spiritual overload, I saw a small black cat stalk into the room. Ahrimdan, fucking typical. I took a deep, foul tasting breath and pulled back from my spirit sight. The demon was too overwhelming when my sense were open.
“No Master Darren. She is but one of many. The curse is virulent and jumps from person to person, hunting those with dim souls. It hast already leaped onto thy gifted lessers and soon thy kin will be victim.”
“Someone tell the shaman about this curse!” I growled, pouring a new coffee to try and get rid of the bad taste Ahrimadan had left in my mouth.
Darren put down the book and sighed. “It’s very subtle. I have to admire Kyernath - I knew of a thousand ways to kill using Sorcery but his delicate touch is masterful. I expected a curse that would destroy people, hurt them. I would have easily sensed it, so would Caoimhe for that matter. His curse is clever, it does no active damage at all.”
“It doesn’t hurt people?”
“It impedes growth and regeneration and is growing slowly stronger. It’s very clever,” Darren spoke quickly, he sounded really impressed. Yeah, that’s way too disturbing for this time in the morning.
“Sorcery is the essence of destruction - but because it’s the essence it doesn’t have to be used in a destructive manner, but it can be used to counter an opposite force - in the same way as a reactive ward may use the essence of Ice to counter burning. So Sorcery can be used to counter the essence of growth, birth and rebirth.”
I groaned. It was way too early in the morning for this. “So they stop growing. Wait, no,” I shook my head, trying to wake up think, Rick think. “They stop healing.”
“Not just healing. How many cells die every day? How many new cells are grown? The body rebuilds itself constantly, mitosis is a constant process of growth.” He said. “If you slow that down or even stop it, how long before daily attrition starts to tell?”
I blinked, the coffee beginning to kick in. “You’d wear out and die. It’s a fucking killing curse.”
“Yes,” he nodded. “A highly contagious and selective one - and one subtle enough to go utterly undetected by must standard forms of magical detection. If I wasn’t sensitive and searching for any application of Sorcery, I would have missed it. A non-Sorcerer? Would stand little chance.”
“So, why are we just sat here?” I scrabbled for my clothes, fully awake and ready to kick Sorcerer ass. Except not. Because you’d probably lose your foot and half your leg pulling that shit. But I’m definitely ready to say some really nasty things about him - oh yeah. Did I ever mention how not-fun fighting Sorcerers is? Because it totally isn’t.
“You weren’t awake. And I needed time to examine and unravel this.” He stood while I tried to hunt down my shoes. How the fuck did one get in the bathroom? They walk when I’m not watching them - it’s Ahrimadan’s fault. I have possessed shoes. “When you are ready we will speak with Doyle before this insidious threat spreads any further.”
I staggered up and followed him, feeling a little creeped out. Two attacks and he’d bare even started - both of them quiet enough and subtle enough that they completely flew under Camaalis radar. Camaalis missed it - they’re like the gods of the magical world. If Kyernath could do this to Camaalis - what was he doing elsewhere?