not_sinister: eli and nait forever (Default)
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For Eliathanis and Naitachal, the tunnel had started out with cardboard sides, but they'd lost the other people in the panicked exodus. Around them was only the mist, and the tunnel had changed, turning in places to dark stone, and now, to a stranger, featureless mist that nevertheless glowed. It was uncanny, and Naitachal had already lost Eliathanis to death once, and once was too much already, so he wasn't risking a repeat.

The White Elf had never noticed, or seemingly remembered his own demise, guarding Naitachal's back during the attack from those humans that the traitorous princess had instigated, after pretending to be the niece of a count. A count, who, it turned out, was also the traitor, who'd aided her in her attempt to turn the nonhuman races and humans against each other..

Spirit or not, the dark elf refused to let go of his friend's hand.

He could not forget the sight of Eliathanis' corpse on the funeral pyre. For all that Eliathanis was solid, in his heart, Naitachal feared that if he let go, he would lose him again, and now, with the Bar gone, it would likely be permanent.

No. Not again. He'd had to pick up the pieces once before. This time, where Eli would go, he would go too.

The first indication that they were no longer in their own world was that the sky was a sunless glowing twilight, and all around them, a forest-turned-city grew. Their approach was registered by four guards at this city's gate, armored fantastically in silver.

"Sanctuary, please." The dark elf necromancer surrendered his pride and begged, pushed beyond his limits, and frightened, faced by the unknown at every corner, and knowing, with the spell they threw over him to discern his nature, that he did not belong here in this dimension. True, his magic resonated, stronger than ever before, drinking in the ambient magic in the vicinity like a drug. True, he felt stronger already. True, Eliathanis seemed more solid, which was a godsend.. but this was not his realm, he couldn't give them an appropriate response to their query of who goes there, and he didn't want to turn back. Back was the tunnel and an uncertain fate. He wasn't risking that. Wasn't risking going anywhere else, either. Not without Eli.

"Our home is lost. We have no way back. I beg for sanctuary."


Eliathanis had been worried for Naitachal when he'd first registered the other elf's convulsive grip on his hand or wrist. He'd never been willing to let go, not once, and from Naitachal, who was normally flippant and independent, this behavior worried the pale elf. He'd tried to calm him down, allowing him to hold hands, or remaining in constant contact with him, to try to reassure him with a touch that things would be fine, but it hadn't seemed to work as well as it had the first time.

And Naitachal stubbornly, steadfastly refused to even explain it. Any mention of it caused the dark elf's brow to furrow and his grip, which loosened to a comfortable level at times, would tighten until it almost hurt. Almost.

Eliathanis was made of sterner stuff than that. He wasn't one to panic, and trusted in the gods' decisions. He knew he was a goodly elf, and by his beliefs, this meant he had nothing to fear; by those same beliefs, he knew Naitachal would meet him again one way or the other.

Naitachal may have been flippant, annoying, obnoxious and too sure that he was intimidating for his own good, but the dark elf meant well, and Eli loved him, in his own way.

This world was strange to him, and he instinctively knew it wasn't his, not really, but it seemed fair, even if it had no true sky. He could see perfectly well and the buildings he saw, half -tree, half stained glass or carved wooden panels, were lovely. The streams and meadows that intermixed with the grove buildings looked fair to him as well. He hoped it was hospitable, but he wasn't as badly off as Nait thought him to be, and he was more worried for his frightened friend than he was for himself.


The gate guards looked them over curiously, inching backwards from them as if hey had a plague, which worried Naitachal further. And then the call was sent out to bring the news to their King and Queen, Oberon and Titania.

These newcomers didn't wear anything any elf they'd ever seen, wore, for they wore iron on them and though this... Eliathanis looked much like them, his holding iron in the form of ornamented steel...Well, it pretty much said neither of them was the traditional elf. It also meant they couldn't use Gates.. which were the teleporting means normally used by the inhabitants of this realm.

Which meant they'd have to meet the king and queen after being relieved of the death-metal, the guards informed them, asking that they shuck off their iron weapons, ornaments and in some parts, reinforced-armor.

...That was a lot of iron, the guards had been shivering and avoiding. A lot. Iron was death-metal to the people here; merely touching it would burn them, which was why Eliathanis and Naitachal had to disarm themselves, as the four armored guards, taller and stronger than they, had moved away from them, surreptitiously avoiding the aura their iron armor and weapons gave them until those artifacts were removed and wrapped heavily in cloth. Lots of cloth.

Each of the two had been fully armed and armored; and they ended up putting them in sealed wooden, silk-lined chest, bound with spells, before they were approached by the now less traumatized guards, who, in gratitude for their willing disarming, offered them a place to sleep, a small tree-home that they could stay in, until the king and queen returned to Elfhame Logres.


Naitachal was stunned to see the elves conjuring up food and drinks, fresh clean clothes, and what amounted, in his mind, to a lovely piece of habitation. A bit heavily ornamented and in plant and animal patterns rather than the skulls he was used to, but nevertheless, Naitachal decided, as he and Eliathanis began to explore the new house given to them, this was a most intriguing use of magic. He wanted it. Wanted it a lot. It was.. never-endingly useful.

He would have to ask if they could settle in, and then, perhaps he could ask if he and Eli could live here. And learn. And for once, being able to learn magic wouldn't involve death, dead people, or musical notes.

Sometime later, they were questioned by a pair of healers, here to ascertain their own health. The healers were stunned to realize that not only could these two elves both handle iron; but the black skinned one was both a necromancer.. a horrible vocation... as well as an accomplished Bard. That was unprecedented. Bards, true Bards, could make magic with their music; and their testing Naitachal proved him to be quite.. adept at both.

Stunning and frightening. Naitachal's bearing and clothing didn't exactly lead to a comforting impression, though, from the way he held on to the white skinned elf, as if the white elf was the most precious thing in the world to him, the healers would have guessed they were lovers.

Or perhaps that was just their wishful thinking.



not_sinister: eli and nait forever (Default)

December 2014


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