Dominic + Ermesinda // Ashes to Ashes
Who: Dominic and Ermesinda
When: Battle!!1
Where: Inside the Cita-shell - Golden Hour
Ratings & Warnings: Oops!
Everything was loud, panicked. People jostled against Ermesinda, pushing and shoving and turning her until she couldn't even tell which direction she was going. There were frightened tears in her eyes, and she shrieked and shoved back at the nearest person that touched her. There was an attack. She could see something forming now, around the Hour. From the angle she stood at, it nearly blotted out the sun. A huge shadow fell across the street. People were shouting, screaming, crying. She could hear the clash of metal in the distance; swords. Her heart raced with fear; Cita and his priests marched on them. They were not her priest, but she could die by their hands just as easily. They said he craved spilling the blood of Others.
"Stop--!" she cried out at another shove, and this time stumbled to her hands and knees on the cobblestones. Someone ran past and stepped on her hand; she shrieked and clutched it to her chest, trying to get to her feet amidst the chaos.
"Olinda!" she yelled as she struggled to her feet, voice high with terror. "Amelia!" They'd been here only a moment ago. Panicked and crying openly now, Ermesinda turned in a circle, looking for any sign of her friends. If Silas was here-
Silas. His ashes. Ermesinda's bloodshot eyes widened, and she twisted around to gape up at the shell forming around the Hour. No-- If she lost his ash, she couldn't bring him back. She jolted into movement and ran, pushing and shoving with as much force as she could muster to get back into the building before it was sealed completely.
Caught in amongst the ebb and flow of the Citadel’s passing, Dominic felt like screaming too. This was worse, so much worse than he’d ever predicted, and the longer it went on the more he was convinced that it was, in fact, one of the worst nightmares he’d experienced, and in but a few minutes his nurse, tired old Olga who had passed away years before, would come and jolt him out of it. Needless to say, that did not happen.
Instead he found himself besieged on all sides, the rolling building attacking him like he was its very own personal enemy. Most citizens of Tyrol were able to run, able to avoid the onslaught, and it took a good few moments of failed flight before Dominic twigged that the only people he could see it outright attacking were those of alternative appearance, different persuasion, other nature. Hollis was around somewhere, but he’d lost her a few minutes since in the hubbub. The rest of his family, too, were not to be seen, and for that, despite his despicable situation, Dominic was relieved. If he were to die, it would be without their conclusion that it had been because he was less than human, that his rights were subverted by the Church because of their prejudice and fear.
A blur of black hair and flying limbs caught his eye. Against the renewed surge of the building moving on and surrounding the nearby Hour, Dominic realised that it was in fact Ermesinda, and she was running not away from the beleaguered building, but towards it. His fears were thus confirmed: she was utterly insane - and dead, if he let her go there.
Desperation made possible what mere fear had not. He tore away from the whirling field of pain assaulting him and pelted pell-mell after the running witch.
He had never been into the Hour before, but barely noticed anything of it. His longer legs enabled him to catch up with Ermesinda quickly, and he called out to her. “Ermesinda! Ermesinda! What the devil are you about?!”
She heard her name distantly; she couldn't slow down, couldn't stop. If she didn't make it in time... She was already imagining the priests storming her room, smashing the jars against the floor, putting a torch to her bed. Everything would burn. Her thoughts were fevered, frightened, and her bare feet slapped hard against the cobblestones as she ran.
It was only a chance glance over her shoulder that added recognition to the voice. Dominic? She stared at him for a moment, tears still wet on her cheeks, before she slowed to a stop. "His ash," she shouted plaintively, hunching, another sob in her throat. "I have to--" Ermesinda looked over her shoulder. The shell was almost fully formed now, and she gasped and started into a run again. She wasn't going to make it-
The rule of mind over matter was one that Dominic had never previously thought on with much sobriety. Later, if he survived, he promised himself he would ponder its relevance. It seemed, in between the press forward of Ermesinda and the final crush of the shell closing over the Hour, he had sprung forward and knocked the both of them forward and out of the way of its weight. His thoughts reengaged afterwards, when he comprehended their situation. They were fine, unharmed and alive - but trapped. Trapped inside an all-encompassing shell that neither of them knew how to fight - and it looked as if it was still moving towards them, sniffing out their unholy presence as though it wished to snuff them out personally.
He scrambled to his feet, crouching to check that Ermesinda was, in fact, alright, and that he hadn't crushed her in his efforts to save her from - well, being crushed. "Are you --- ...are you alright?"
At first, in her terror, Ermesinda thought the weight knocking her down was the shell crushing her-- but then she landed on the ground in a heap, limbs stinging, and twisted her head around to pant in surprise at Dominic. After a few seconds of wide-eyed staring, she swallowed and nodded.
"I am fine..." Her head tilted up, then around, and the started to her feet so fast her head spun when she saw the wall moving. "Run! Now!" she yelled at Dominic, and she grabbed him by the wrist and ran as fast as she could into the building, towards her rooms. How were they going to get out? She'd think about it when they got to it, hide them both if she had to. She had to get those jars...
"Stupid," she breathed as they ran, "Why did you follow me?"
"Because you weren't going to make it!" The response was gasped - Dominic was not of the constitution that denoted stamina, and his lungs felt as though they were soon to burst from his chest in protest. It was only his longer legs that enabled him to keep pace at all, and instead of thinking about where they were going, he followed Ermesinda with blind faith. She was going to get them both killed - but really, what would be worse? Killed outside, alone, or killed inside, with someone he at least knew the name of? Dominic couldn't think about it. He stumbled, hopped, lost his pace, caught it again with a slap to a wall that nearly twisted his arm off. He snatched his limbs back in.
"Why... why are you... what ... why come in here?! It's ...it's stu--- stupid-- suicide!"
"I have to get his ash!" she shot back. Hadn't she said that already? Stupid boy never listened. Ermesinda gasped and pulled Dominic into an open doorway when she saw shadows in the hall; she heard heavy footsteps as men ran past and waited until they'd faded before she peered out again, eyes wide. Her tears had dried stiff on her cheeks, but fear still pounded through her veins. If they were found...
"This way," she said, and she took his wrist again and ran.
Dragged along, Dominic had no choice but to follow her. He did so silently from then on, not wanting to waste any precious breath on speaking that he could otherwise use for running or, when the time came, screaming while he died. Down hallway after hallway they pelted, dodging walls and people and who-knew-what-else in order to get to Ermesinda's goal. When they reached it, and she dropped his hand, Dominic sagged against the nearest patch of solid, unmoving wall he could find, chest heaving. Next time, he thought, that he was going to unthinkingly plunge towards the aid of a damsel (ha!) in distress, he'd bring a horse!
"Where are they?" he said, as soon as he could get his breath. He looked about at the room they were in.
"Here," she replied breathlessly, sweeping back a false curtain. There was an indent in the wall where she'd removed some of the bricks, and she pulled out three jars of ash and stuffed them into her satchel. After a moment's hesitation she tore the curtain down and stuffed it between the jars, to help insulate them. The glass was thick, but they would have to run…
The witch turned and clutched at the strap of her bag, eyes fixed fearfully on the door. In a very small voice, she said, "How do we get out?"
Dominic heard her but for a moment could not come up with any suitable answer. Practically swallowing his tongue with terror, he inched forwards and cracked the door. Instantly he slammed it shut again, his skin tone paler by three shades as he backpedaled away from it. "I don't know," he said, and spun around. They were in a room that housed and collected the remains of the dead, weren't they? There had to be some form of unlife in here - some who would know of a way out. A passage, some kind of secret thoroughfare or bolt hole. Something - anything.
At first, he saw nothing, and then, over by a workbench, a pulse of ether that seemed more amused than concerned alerted him to the presence he sought. "Help us," he said, pleading. Ghosts were of the fickle sort, their sense of humour revolved largely around the fact that they were already dead and, in their minds, invincible, whereas weak creatures who relied on life weren't. His response was a cackle of laughter. It echoed hollowly in Dominic's ears, and he shuddered, turning wild eyes to Ermesinda.
"A building like this must have secrets," he said, voicing his earlier thoughts aloud. "Passages and stuff... are there any... any spells you have that could locate one?"
Spells to locate an exit? Ermesinda looked up and around, shoulders hunching as she shrunk in on herself. She had her pendant... but she doubted very much it would work for something as broad as 'exit'. More than likely it would just swing towards the door. She took it out anyway, struggling for a moment when it caught on her hair. She let the string hang from her palm and swallowed before she tried, meekly, "Exit."
The pendant stayed still.
Panic started to rise in her chest. If Cita and his priests opened her door, they would be trapped, and in plain sight. Her window... The witch bit her lip, tucking the pendant back into her bodice before she climbed up to the sill. The glass had always been dirty and smudged, a product of the smoke and ash her room had been filled with so often when Silas still lived. She carefully rubbed a small corner clean with her sleeve and peered out. She could see the wall that had nearly closed on them... and nothing else. Just a small path of grass between them and it. "The wall," she said. Her voice cracked. "It is around every thing." Could there be a crack? An opening? Ermesinda pinched her lips together and strained as she shoved at the window. The pane creaked, and she wondered in terror whether the noise would simply attract attention and serve no purpose. If she couldn't open it enough for them to get out... But it opened, just enough, and she wriggled up through it, then reached back inside to tug her satchel out. The jars clinked loudly inside.
"Dominic," she hissed, waving her arm at the boy. "Come."
Opening a wind-- why was-- oh god, not again. No more wall-climbing! A cliff he could do, rigging was even easier, but the Hour?! It was like as to be utterly impossible, and with the Citadel flying all around them! Ermesinda had lost her marbles. Then again, he recalled, she'd lost them ages ago - for there was no other cause for her attempts to return a demon hellhound to life. He did not have time to ruminate on the witch's sanity. He was in motion, squirming up through the window. It scraped his shoulders and knees, and not for the first time in his life did Dominic curse his unwieldy height.
The tight fit caused delay, and when he finally made it out of the window, Ermesinda was far ahead of him. After her he ran towards the ever-widening crack, sparing a moment to look around as he did. The laggard hesitation the shift in focus caused proved to be his undoing. A shadow fell across him as a chunk of the turtle-like shell of the Citadel broke away from the whole, and Dominic looked up to ascertain which way to jump to get out of its way. Too little too late, and even as he moved, the stone struck him soundly on the side of his head, felling him instantly to the ground.
Her satchel banged painfully against her leg as she ran, and Ermesinda looked over her shoulder to make sure Dominic was behind her-- then stumbled to a stop. "Dominic!" she shrieked urgently. What was he doing? Had he collapsed, or had he decided to give up? There was a crack up ahead, almost large enough for them to fit through. The witch looked back to the opening, made a yowl of frustration, and then ran back to Dominic's side.
"Dominic!" she yelled, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him roughly. "Dominic, up! Up! We have to run!"
There was no response. Dominic's head, although not crushed, spoke easily of the reason for his lifeless state by the scarlet soaking his hair and spilling to stain Ermesinda's shaking hands. The Bercator, as though dimly aware of her, seemed to flutter his eyelashes, to blink, but it could easily have been imagined. The noble was nothing but a deadweight in her grip.
Ermesinda looked over her shoulder at the gap, a sob in her throat. She couldn't leave him here. He'd come after her. But if she carried him, it'd slow her down... She had no time to think, to hesitate. The witch took Dominic by the wrists and dragged him in short, strained bursts across the lawn and towards the opening. Her breathing came out of her in loud wheezes and her arms ached. Was he going to die? He was bleeding from the head...
"Idiot," she hissed through her tears. "Stupid! You will die too!" The crack was growing wider; she could hear the shell crumbling. There was a rumbling against it, muffled shouting from outside it, and then a larger chunk burst open and a roar of voices came through. People rushed in around her. Someone picked her up, two more picked up Dominic. The Hour, Ermesinda thought with overwhelming relief, and she gave Dominic one last terrified look before she burst into tears against the man who held her.
When: Battle!!1
Where: Inside the Cita-shell - Golden Hour
Ratings & Warnings: Oops!
Everything was loud, panicked. People jostled against Ermesinda, pushing and shoving and turning her until she couldn't even tell which direction she was going. There were frightened tears in her eyes, and she shrieked and shoved back at the nearest person that touched her. There was an attack. She could see something forming now, around the Hour. From the angle she stood at, it nearly blotted out the sun. A huge shadow fell across the street. People were shouting, screaming, crying. She could hear the clash of metal in the distance; swords. Her heart raced with fear; Cita and his priests marched on them. They were not her priest, but she could die by their hands just as easily. They said he craved spilling the blood of Others.
"Stop--!" she cried out at another shove, and this time stumbled to her hands and knees on the cobblestones. Someone ran past and stepped on her hand; she shrieked and clutched it to her chest, trying to get to her feet amidst the chaos.
"Olinda!" she yelled as she struggled to her feet, voice high with terror. "Amelia!" They'd been here only a moment ago. Panicked and crying openly now, Ermesinda turned in a circle, looking for any sign of her friends. If Silas was here-
Silas. His ashes. Ermesinda's bloodshot eyes widened, and she twisted around to gape up at the shell forming around the Hour. No-- If she lost his ash, she couldn't bring him back. She jolted into movement and ran, pushing and shoving with as much force as she could muster to get back into the building before it was sealed completely.
Caught in amongst the ebb and flow of the Citadel’s passing, Dominic felt like screaming too. This was worse, so much worse than he’d ever predicted, and the longer it went on the more he was convinced that it was, in fact, one of the worst nightmares he’d experienced, and in but a few minutes his nurse, tired old Olga who had passed away years before, would come and jolt him out of it. Needless to say, that did not happen.
Instead he found himself besieged on all sides, the rolling building attacking him like he was its very own personal enemy. Most citizens of Tyrol were able to run, able to avoid the onslaught, and it took a good few moments of failed flight before Dominic twigged that the only people he could see it outright attacking were those of alternative appearance, different persuasion, other nature. Hollis was around somewhere, but he’d lost her a few minutes since in the hubbub. The rest of his family, too, were not to be seen, and for that, despite his despicable situation, Dominic was relieved. If he were to die, it would be without their conclusion that it had been because he was less than human, that his rights were subverted by the Church because of their prejudice and fear.
A blur of black hair and flying limbs caught his eye. Against the renewed surge of the building moving on and surrounding the nearby Hour, Dominic realised that it was in fact Ermesinda, and she was running not away from the beleaguered building, but towards it. His fears were thus confirmed: she was utterly insane - and dead, if he let her go there.
Desperation made possible what mere fear had not. He tore away from the whirling field of pain assaulting him and pelted pell-mell after the running witch.
He had never been into the Hour before, but barely noticed anything of it. His longer legs enabled him to catch up with Ermesinda quickly, and he called out to her. “Ermesinda! Ermesinda! What the devil are you about?!”
She heard her name distantly; she couldn't slow down, couldn't stop. If she didn't make it in time... She was already imagining the priests storming her room, smashing the jars against the floor, putting a torch to her bed. Everything would burn. Her thoughts were fevered, frightened, and her bare feet slapped hard against the cobblestones as she ran.
It was only a chance glance over her shoulder that added recognition to the voice. Dominic? She stared at him for a moment, tears still wet on her cheeks, before she slowed to a stop. "His ash," she shouted plaintively, hunching, another sob in her throat. "I have to--" Ermesinda looked over her shoulder. The shell was almost fully formed now, and she gasped and started into a run again. She wasn't going to make it-
The rule of mind over matter was one that Dominic had never previously thought on with much sobriety. Later, if he survived, he promised himself he would ponder its relevance. It seemed, in between the press forward of Ermesinda and the final crush of the shell closing over the Hour, he had sprung forward and knocked the both of them forward and out of the way of its weight. His thoughts reengaged afterwards, when he comprehended their situation. They were fine, unharmed and alive - but trapped. Trapped inside an all-encompassing shell that neither of them knew how to fight - and it looked as if it was still moving towards them, sniffing out their unholy presence as though it wished to snuff them out personally.
He scrambled to his feet, crouching to check that Ermesinda was, in fact, alright, and that he hadn't crushed her in his efforts to save her from - well, being crushed. "Are you --- ...are you alright?"
At first, in her terror, Ermesinda thought the weight knocking her down was the shell crushing her-- but then she landed on the ground in a heap, limbs stinging, and twisted her head around to pant in surprise at Dominic. After a few seconds of wide-eyed staring, she swallowed and nodded.
"I am fine..." Her head tilted up, then around, and the started to her feet so fast her head spun when she saw the wall moving. "Run! Now!" she yelled at Dominic, and she grabbed him by the wrist and ran as fast as she could into the building, towards her rooms. How were they going to get out? She'd think about it when they got to it, hide them both if she had to. She had to get those jars...
"Stupid," she breathed as they ran, "Why did you follow me?"
"Because you weren't going to make it!" The response was gasped - Dominic was not of the constitution that denoted stamina, and his lungs felt as though they were soon to burst from his chest in protest. It was only his longer legs that enabled him to keep pace at all, and instead of thinking about where they were going, he followed Ermesinda with blind faith. She was going to get them both killed - but really, what would be worse? Killed outside, alone, or killed inside, with someone he at least knew the name of? Dominic couldn't think about it. He stumbled, hopped, lost his pace, caught it again with a slap to a wall that nearly twisted his arm off. He snatched his limbs back in.
"Why... why are you... what ... why come in here?! It's ...it's stu--- stupid-- suicide!"
"I have to get his ash!" she shot back. Hadn't she said that already? Stupid boy never listened. Ermesinda gasped and pulled Dominic into an open doorway when she saw shadows in the hall; she heard heavy footsteps as men ran past and waited until they'd faded before she peered out again, eyes wide. Her tears had dried stiff on her cheeks, but fear still pounded through her veins. If they were found...
"This way," she said, and she took his wrist again and ran.
Dragged along, Dominic had no choice but to follow her. He did so silently from then on, not wanting to waste any precious breath on speaking that he could otherwise use for running or, when the time came, screaming while he died. Down hallway after hallway they pelted, dodging walls and people and who-knew-what-else in order to get to Ermesinda's goal. When they reached it, and she dropped his hand, Dominic sagged against the nearest patch of solid, unmoving wall he could find, chest heaving. Next time, he thought, that he was going to unthinkingly plunge towards the aid of a damsel (ha!) in distress, he'd bring a horse!
"Where are they?" he said, as soon as he could get his breath. He looked about at the room they were in.
"Here," she replied breathlessly, sweeping back a false curtain. There was an indent in the wall where she'd removed some of the bricks, and she pulled out three jars of ash and stuffed them into her satchel. After a moment's hesitation she tore the curtain down and stuffed it between the jars, to help insulate them. The glass was thick, but they would have to run…
The witch turned and clutched at the strap of her bag, eyes fixed fearfully on the door. In a very small voice, she said, "How do we get out?"
Dominic heard her but for a moment could not come up with any suitable answer. Practically swallowing his tongue with terror, he inched forwards and cracked the door. Instantly he slammed it shut again, his skin tone paler by three shades as he backpedaled away from it. "I don't know," he said, and spun around. They were in a room that housed and collected the remains of the dead, weren't they? There had to be some form of unlife in here - some who would know of a way out. A passage, some kind of secret thoroughfare or bolt hole. Something - anything.
At first, he saw nothing, and then, over by a workbench, a pulse of ether that seemed more amused than concerned alerted him to the presence he sought. "Help us," he said, pleading. Ghosts were of the fickle sort, their sense of humour revolved largely around the fact that they were already dead and, in their minds, invincible, whereas weak creatures who relied on life weren't. His response was a cackle of laughter. It echoed hollowly in Dominic's ears, and he shuddered, turning wild eyes to Ermesinda.
"A building like this must have secrets," he said, voicing his earlier thoughts aloud. "Passages and stuff... are there any... any spells you have that could locate one?"
Spells to locate an exit? Ermesinda looked up and around, shoulders hunching as she shrunk in on herself. She had her pendant... but she doubted very much it would work for something as broad as 'exit'. More than likely it would just swing towards the door. She took it out anyway, struggling for a moment when it caught on her hair. She let the string hang from her palm and swallowed before she tried, meekly, "Exit."
The pendant stayed still.
Panic started to rise in her chest. If Cita and his priests opened her door, they would be trapped, and in plain sight. Her window... The witch bit her lip, tucking the pendant back into her bodice before she climbed up to the sill. The glass had always been dirty and smudged, a product of the smoke and ash her room had been filled with so often when Silas still lived. She carefully rubbed a small corner clean with her sleeve and peered out. She could see the wall that had nearly closed on them... and nothing else. Just a small path of grass between them and it. "The wall," she said. Her voice cracked. "It is around every thing." Could there be a crack? An opening? Ermesinda pinched her lips together and strained as she shoved at the window. The pane creaked, and she wondered in terror whether the noise would simply attract attention and serve no purpose. If she couldn't open it enough for them to get out... But it opened, just enough, and she wriggled up through it, then reached back inside to tug her satchel out. The jars clinked loudly inside.
"Dominic," she hissed, waving her arm at the boy. "Come."
Opening a wind-- why was-- oh god, not again. No more wall-climbing! A cliff he could do, rigging was even easier, but the Hour?! It was like as to be utterly impossible, and with the Citadel flying all around them! Ermesinda had lost her marbles. Then again, he recalled, she'd lost them ages ago - for there was no other cause for her attempts to return a demon hellhound to life. He did not have time to ruminate on the witch's sanity. He was in motion, squirming up through the window. It scraped his shoulders and knees, and not for the first time in his life did Dominic curse his unwieldy height.
The tight fit caused delay, and when he finally made it out of the window, Ermesinda was far ahead of him. After her he ran towards the ever-widening crack, sparing a moment to look around as he did. The laggard hesitation the shift in focus caused proved to be his undoing. A shadow fell across him as a chunk of the turtle-like shell of the Citadel broke away from the whole, and Dominic looked up to ascertain which way to jump to get out of its way. Too little too late, and even as he moved, the stone struck him soundly on the side of his head, felling him instantly to the ground.
Her satchel banged painfully against her leg as she ran, and Ermesinda looked over her shoulder to make sure Dominic was behind her-- then stumbled to a stop. "Dominic!" she shrieked urgently. What was he doing? Had he collapsed, or had he decided to give up? There was a crack up ahead, almost large enough for them to fit through. The witch looked back to the opening, made a yowl of frustration, and then ran back to Dominic's side.
"Dominic!" she yelled, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him roughly. "Dominic, up! Up! We have to run!"
There was no response. Dominic's head, although not crushed, spoke easily of the reason for his lifeless state by the scarlet soaking his hair and spilling to stain Ermesinda's shaking hands. The Bercator, as though dimly aware of her, seemed to flutter his eyelashes, to blink, but it could easily have been imagined. The noble was nothing but a deadweight in her grip.
Ermesinda looked over her shoulder at the gap, a sob in her throat. She couldn't leave him here. He'd come after her. But if she carried him, it'd slow her down... She had no time to think, to hesitate. The witch took Dominic by the wrists and dragged him in short, strained bursts across the lawn and towards the opening. Her breathing came out of her in loud wheezes and her arms ached. Was he going to die? He was bleeding from the head...
"Idiot," she hissed through her tears. "Stupid! You will die too!" The crack was growing wider; she could hear the shell crumbling. There was a rumbling against it, muffled shouting from outside it, and then a larger chunk burst open and a roar of voices came through. People rushed in around her. Someone picked her up, two more picked up Dominic. The Hour, Ermesinda thought with overwhelming relief, and she gave Dominic one last terrified look before she burst into tears against the man who held her.