Pharaun 001

[lorith_phor]

Who: Pharaun Mizzrym and Ryld Argith
Where: Espoir
Style: Whatever you want, Reppy. Started in third, feel free to change it.
Status: Closed. I'll have Pharaun participate in an open one later for those who were interested. ♥

Comments

[lorith_harl]

The suns harsh glare reflected off of the white blanket, hurting Ryld's sensitive eyes. The surface, his disappointment was clear on his face and he had no desire to try and hide such an emotion. His boot scuffed at the snow as he tried to guess just where it was he'd ended up. Eyes squinting in the bright daylight, the drow warrior had to hold a hand up and shade them, though it didn't help any. Knowing that he had no idea where he was was more than unsettling, especially when the last thing he remembered was a sudden pain and a disgusting vision

[lorith_phor]

It was blasted hard to see in this Lloth-forsaken sunshine, especially with the way it reflected off the snow. More than once Pharaun had nearly stumbled very gracelessly. If - no, when Pharaun made it back to Menzoberranzan, to his comfortable quarters in Sorcere, he was going to find a way to extinguish the damn thing. It was nearly impossible to see where he was going.

Caught off his guard and blinded, Pharaun smacked into something hard. It was like running into the wall of a cave that had been padded lightly in warm fungus. Blinking, Pharaun stepped back and attempted to examine what he suspected was a person.

"Pardon me," he mumbled, not really accustomed to apologizing. It had been his fault though, however unintentional it might have been.

[lorith_harl]

Ryld had been struggling, not only was he blinded, but the snow was causing him to slip. It was hard to avoid those parts when everything looked the same and with his eyes watering. Back home, back with Halisstra...before he came here, he'd been on the surface world but hadn't been there long enough to get used to it. The fighter highly doubted he ever would and longed to be back in the comfortable darkness of the Underdark.

Grunting as something, no...someone, walked right into him and almost caused him to stumble and slip again. Ryld caught his footing though and narrowed his eyes, not from the light, but in annoyance. He was about to make a comment when he froze on the spot. His eyes widened, despite the pain and stared down at someone familiar.

"...Pharaun?"

[lorith_phor]

That voice... Pharaun's heart froze in his chest for a moment, stopping cold as human who'd just seen a ghost might do. His eyes widened, letting in more of the painful, hated light, his jaw dropped and his breathing sped up a little. No. It couldn't be, could it? Jeggred's words, spoken to the wizard just moments before, broke through his thoughts. He'd tried so hard to ignore those words, had shut the draegloth out as best as he could.

"Ryld..." The name came out as a breath of air, a gust of disbelief hanging between them. Pharaun's heart pounded suddenly in his chest and he swallowed nervously. Ryld had died, had been ripped to shreds by Jeggred in an unforgiving world far from home. Pharaun was speechless.

Ryld couldn't have betrayed them. True, Pharaun had betrayed his friend, had left him for dead all those months before, but Ryld wouldn't have gone over to Eilistraee, however enchanted with the Melarn daughter he might have been.

Might be.

What was going on?

[lorith_phor]

Pharaun let his mind drift slightly, though he did not take his eyes off of his betrayer's body. What, he wondered, was the former (for how could a dead drow go back?) Master of Melee-Magthere thinking. Part of Pharaun wondered if Ryld regretted even a little the actions his path had led him down, and he wondered what kind of enchantments the priestess could have laid over the strong-willed fighter to get him to run off in such a way.

The Ryld he thought he knew would have taken the message to their beloved city either way.

Clearly, the Ryld he thought he knew was long dead, in more ways than the obvious.

The wizard shifted slightly on the cold tiles that comprised the floor of the room. How strange, to feel something so cold that wasn't soft like the cursed snow. It was almost like sitting on ice, though without the slickness. He thought about speaking aloud, making an observation, but changed his mind. The silence would press on Ryld enough to speak eventually.