vatheon | If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging.

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If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging.

Who: The Summoner and who ever happens upon him.
Where: Starting at the plaza and he'll end up on the island.
When: Late afternoon of the 12th
Style: Action
Status: Open.

Like when he first appeared, he'd think it a dream this time as well. Lysunder thought the first time surely was some nights even while he was there. Sweeps had past, so his memories of Vatheon faded and aged as he had. Upon arriving back in his own world and time, the winged troll picked back up as if he had never left, it was... strange to think of now, how he just fell back into place without a second thought. Made this aquatic domain seem even less real now. Returning just meant waking up and going back to his life, his goals, and Summoner did. He would've tried not to let his memories of this place and the people here distract him, and soon he didn't think of them at all, even falling into pity again only to shatter it with his own hands. But it didn't matter, he just returned, lived out more of his life, and now here he was,this place, again

So here he sat, in the plaza, an aged hand, calloused and rough- covering his lips stubble covered chin and his weary eyes looking over this place he only remembers now, after so long. A range of old memories slowly filling his mind, piecing together blurry pictures he's not sure what to do with.

Summoner was much older now, to flesh a bit darker now, tougher, scars more apparent on where his skin shows, even his face here and there. His wings look a darker shade of orange and even while folded, appear so much larger than they had been the first time he was here. Horns with slits and notches taken out, extending upwards just a little more than they had been before and looked to be stained darker in splotches at the tips. His clothing looks more fitted, the back a completely open circle for his wings to extend out of instead of slits like it had been, something better tailored for him. He doesn't seem to wear wrappings on his chest and neck anymore, the skin on his neck bare, showing what marks he has, and on his back where long vein like scars extend out from the base of his wings.

Still red though- his hair- still vibrant red, matching the tattered stripes going down the front of his pants.

"Heh, again with this, and after what I have done-" He stares off into nothing, facing the ground after letting what had happened soak in. The Summoner moves a hand through his hair, closing his eyes before pushing up on his knees. A hand ghosts over his neck, the side where he's sure the mark reappeared, where he remembers it, and his feet already start to take him away from the plaza, Lysunder's mind slowly wraps together a map of this place but finding it a little hard. He pushed so much of it back... everything here. How can he even return, how... how long has it been? It doesn't look like anything's changed but-

His shoulders relax, closing his eyes, and he slowly removes something from his sylladex he hadn't for a while. The pair of earrings are stared at for a while before he puts them on again and enters the elevator, heading up with a deep breath. After that, it doesn't take long for him to hit the sky and head towards that lighthouse to just... stare at the water from the shore. That's all he wants to do by this point. The Summoner knows this isn't a dream, but whatever it is he shouldn't be here, even more so now.

[OOC: Feel free to have your character happen upon him at any point from the plaza to the lighthouse. He'll end up in that final destination at some point. :U]

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Ever since the day before, Darkleer has been finding himself quietly spending more time abovewater. For him, before, the island was normally just a place he went to if he wished to test new robots without much interruption and if the weather was nice. These days, he prefers to simply stay in his room and build and build. Still, he told the girl he would fix that dilapidated old hive of hers into something worth living in.

He's been going over it the last few hours, and he thinks he has a solid idea of what to do with it. Putting away all his tools and notes, he looks back towards the direction of the elevator. Does he honestly want to go back down there again, feeling smothered and lost? Maybe he'll stay away just a little longer. With no true destination in mind, he begins to wander aimlessly. At some point, he finds himself removing his glasses and rubbing at the dark circles beneath his eyes. He really needs to sleep, but both prelude and epilogue to it threaten to drive him mad.

The lighthouse is not something he consciously chooses to go towards, but it now holds two important memories. It was where Summoner hid when he was molting, where he regrew his wings, and it was also here where Darkleer confronted...

Maybe this is a bad idea after all. It's doing nothing but making his heart ache and-

And Darkleer finds himself no longer breathing.

It's that same silhouette he knows so well, that same figure he keeps waking up thinking he's still there against him. Those same wings, still attached to his back and almost glowing like fire in the rays of the sunset.

All Darkleer can do is stare. Then, a quiet and desperate and quivering kind of laugh that doesn't have a drop of mirth in it comes from him.

"Oh. Oh no. I really have lost my mind. I never took myself for one to hallucinate, but I suppose it was inevitable by this point."

The lighthouse was a bit of a mess now... but- he didn't question it. He didn't even look into the mess, just merely moved past it and sat on a small stone wall lining a hill nearby, his eyes focusing on the water. His mind was swimming yet he'd never think to take a dip himself. These memories felt like... they should've always been there, but he didn't remember them when he was home, he knows he didn't, but here they are, and this place feels and smells the same as he remembered. Summoner's mind stretches out to commune soon, though he's learned to embrace silence more in his older age.

The Summoner's not focusing on watching through any eyes but his own right now, so when Darkleer nears he doesn't notice, stays seated, still. Not until the other speaks do his ears twitch and flick back a little. He feels a chill down his spine and his wings rustle, head raising a little.

"...Chironus?"

The name falls rather quietly, but still enough for Darkleer to hear. His tone is questioning, but, he knows who the other person is, he's one of the clearest memories filling up his mind right now. But- those memories are still old, and he still doesn't know how to even approach this- approach him. So he stays seated, just barely turning his head, glancing back.

This place is real though... and so is he. And he's different here than what Summoner remembers from his return to Alternia, where they had no such memories together. Where all he knows of this archer is scorn and what Mindfang had told him. How can he even... speak to him here. It's been so long- he died, right? He died upon leaving here, he could feels the scars on his back, they hurt for some reason, he didn't have them back on Alternia so they'd be as new for him as they would be for anyone else that saw the strange weed like marks. He had died painfully, and then, never came back till now, not only that but so much has happened at home that he-

Should he even be speaking to this person he left behind?

Edited 2012-07-12 22:07 (UTC)

Is that really his voice? It hasn't even been a perigee since he's lost him; has he forgotten how it sounds already? Not that it really matters. After all...

"Even if you're just a hallucination," he murmurs, rubbing away the beginnings of tears with the heel of his hand, "I have to admit I've missed you so wretchedly badly. So... Stay a while longer before you vanish into thin air, or whatever it is that hallucinations do." Talking to himself, to someone who isn't there... He really must be insane. But there are worse things his mind could have pretended to be here, and he'll welcome this image.

Almost uncertainly, he begins to take a few steps close before stopping.

It's barely been time for Darkleer, yes, but that is his voice. Just not what is was before. As for Summoner, he hears Darkleer's voice and it sounds just as he remembers it, what he can remember anyway.

"I'm not, but I'd still bet this place was, even now-" A sigh, closing his eyes. He can tell something's wrong, he can hear it. But... Darkleer seems too torn for it to have been a while since he left. How- how long was he gone?

"How long has it been, tell me..." Summoner says warily, looking back to the beach, his eyes dancing over the glittering pieces as he listens carefully. He's concerned for some reason, concerned about how long he's been gone. It's hard to tell from Darkleer's voice and he knows lookin at him won't really help with how slow highblood's start to age after a certain point. But from what he's seen this place looks the same- but it's always been magical, hasn't it? It wouldn't change, so how could he know.

"I cannot say exactly how long, yet... I would say perhaps two weeks or so." Finally, he dares himself to take those last few steps. Even though stranger has happened in this bizarre world, this mysterious experiment, he almost cannot let himself believe that Summoner really is back. Two weeks isn't long at all, but they had been painful and far longer than the dead were supposed to stay dead in such a place.

Tentatively, he reaches out to lay his hand across one shoulder and lets out a breath he had been hardly aware he'd been holding. Oh god. "You're here."

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