(Untitled)

[ttlynotawizard]

Who: Remy, Glaukir, Vanyel [OPEN]
When: Backdated to last night
Where: A multitude of decks
What OH MAI IS THAT SOME SORT OF GEM LIKE THING ON REMY'S FOREHEAD?

Rating: I'll try to keep 'er PG-13

Comments

[lastofvaldemar]

Enough is enough. Vanyel had known something was wrong when Remy didn't return with what he'd gone for, when he didn't reply and couldn't be found. That notion had been confirmed when he found the trail of destruction and blood-trail in the halls. A properly trained Herald could track bandits through forest on a moonless night- following the wake of a Fetching Gift's attack was trivial.

Of course, he hadn't really thought it was Remy himself until he saw him with his own eyes. Right. Time to go to work.

"Remy," He called, and his shields were live things, dim and dormant to mage-sight, but sprung live to spirit and senses, keyed-physical ward and mage-shielding like a triplicate skin against his own, "Remy Whitecastle, what have you done?"

[ttlynotawizard]

Someone was calling his name. He knew his name well and good, but talking to him was distracting. He needed to take care of the annoyance now. He didn't have many left, but sill sent two knives flying toward Vanyel.

[lastofvaldemar]

Vanyel didn't waste energy in blocking, instead he neatly sidestepped and the knives buried themselves quivering in the wall behind him. He didn't bother looking at them, and instead stalked towards the wizard with purpose in his step.

"I will allow you one warning," He called sharply, "Get hold of yourself!"

[ttlynotawizard]

So he wanted a fight did he? Remy crouched down. He knew he had to make this quick. The mass usage of magic Remy had been performing was starting to take his toll. He was weaker, slower. He needed to take Vanyel out fast.

He sends the bloodstained chair and table lamp after Vanyel.

[lastofvaldemar]

But Vanyel has fought this kind of attacker before. His step doesn't falter, nor pause. When he was young, he lifted his hands to direct the Fetching Gift Tylendel's death had burned into him, but that lack of finesse had long-since been trained out of Vanyel. A Herald-Mage cannot afford to broadcast his intentions.

The furniture stopped dead, mid-air. Van frowned and made his decision, and they reversed, power tingling in his finger-tips, clenched-fist and waiting for the right moment.

[ttlynotawizard]

Remy teleported out of the way of the return attack. It was only a slight step to the side, but it allowed him to not get hit and ready his next attack. He couldn't seem to manage preparing more than a basic bolt of magic energy, aimed right at Vanyel's head.

[lastofvaldemar]

The bolt caught on Van's shield and lit up a blinding glare as it was torn apart on the barbed surface. The Herald was prepared, holding power in his grasp and as the familiar searing burn tore across his perception, he blindly cast, knowing the spell would seek its target regardless of his aim.

It was lightning, but not a bolt, merely a flash, meant to dazzle and confuse, so that Vanyel could reach out with his beleaguered senses, reach into Remy's mind and grasp. He wasn't a dyheli, he knew it would cause his lover pain, but it was the surest way to hold him still and unable to escape without actually injuring Remy.

Godsdamn did his head hurt.

[ttlynotawizard]

Remy held his arm over his eyes as the flash blinded him. It distracted him enough that a bit of his arsenal clattered to the floor. He yelled loudly as he felt something in his mind, something foreign and unwelcome and like a cornered animal, he lashed out against it, firing off every last bit of magical energy he could every which way until he collapsed in a heap on the floor, last bits of controlled items falling with him.

[lastofvaldemar]

Van grimaced and rode out the flailing grimly, hating every moment until Remy fell back, unconscious. Then he slowly eased his hold on the now-dreaming mind and probed for the source of all thi-

Ah.

Kneeling beside his prone form, Vanyel dug out the paring knife he'd taken weeks ago and pried the gem away from Remy's skin. another moment had the bedamned thing crushed against the deck, and Van sat back with a long sigh, surveying the fallen wreckage of Remy's 'ammunition.' What a day...

[ttlynotawizard]

Remy's head flopped to the side. The wound left where the root had been pulled out was bleeding a mixture of blood and some sort of clear oozy liquid. It was something that definitely needed healing.

Remy was completely unconscious. Having passed out from magic usage, he wouldn't come to for at least a good eight hours rest.

[lastofvaldemar]

Van frowned, then looked back from the wreckage. Remy looked...broken, and that sent his fingers brushing back his hair, palm pressed in a momentary drag of power. The tug was like the pull of a loose tooth, viscerally painful, and he withdrew instinctively- the wound, healed.

Then he sighed and stood heavily, dragging one of Remy's arms over his shoulder and hefting him. Vanyel's room would do- it wouldn't be the first time the wizard had slept in Van's bed.

[ttlynotawizard]

Remy was nothing but dead weight as he was hoisted to his feet. His head flopped forward and his entire body was limp. His breathing, however, was starting to become deeper and soon after being dragged along, he began to snore.

[lastofvaldemar]

Vanyel cast a glance skyward for patience and hoisted Remy a bit more off his feet, balancing on Van's shoulders in a way that was safe, if not comfortable. Somehow he managed the stairwell without killing either of them, and eventually his bed found itself quite full of unconscious wizard. The herald slid to the floor and braced his back against that bed, head tilted back and eyes closed.

May all the Gods bless these nigh-inviolable locks, and may they bless these soft beds, and whatever cruel luck led to there being no idiot balls along the way. Dammit, but Van's head did hurt like his heartbeat was a signal-drum. Sigh.