[Open] Spread your wings and never let your flame go out

[makingmyway]

Who: Dorian and YOU
What: Dorian returns from home, goes to the hot springs, and then wanders around a bit
Where: Salt Spire Infirmary, The Ember Veil, and around
When: The rest of February after Dorian's return
Warnings: Certain memories contain death, spiders, and spoilers, and those are warned for the specific memory. Will be updated if anything new comes up

I. An Audio Post on the network (with possible action)

un: sonofthewind

…Hey, uh… I guess I’m back.

[ Though the voice is weak, those who know him will recognize it as Dorian. He falls silent for a moment, though, before he suddenly laughs, a sound that’s a mix of something a bit incredulous and maybe a touch manic. ] Ahah… wow… oh, holy shit… [ Another pause, this time followed by a pained hiss and a groan. ] Sorry, it’s been a long… day? At least it was a day where I’d just been.

…I can’t believe that was just a day…

B-But I guess I’m back now. Sorry if I worried anyone. I’m not even sure how long I was gone. Anyway, I guess I’m at the Salt Spire Infirmary? I think I might be here a while so… what’s going on with everyone? Did I miss anything?

Or feel free to come visit me. I wouldn’t mind the company.

II. Waters of Memory

By now, Dorian is well aware of the effects of the hot springs. But while the thought of people seeing his memories bothers him, even scares him just a bit, he finds himself drawn to the springs anyway. Even though his physical wounds have by now healed after his sudden return, the heat of the springs is comforting, and does help soothe his spirit as much as his body.

So he spends some time relaxing in the spring, soaking in the warmth. If someone does approach, though, the water shimmers before a vision appears before them.

A. A Devastating Loss (CW: death, spiders)

Just walk away. Go see Orym.

Dorian freezes in mid-air as the words seem to resonate in his mind.

Go see Orym.

Right… that’s what they were doing before all this. The Sending Stone had worked in what felt like so long, but the message he got from Orym had been fuzzy, unclear. All he’d picked up was to find the Tempest, and they had been close to Zephrah anyway. They needed to get to her, so he could see Orym.

Go see Orym.

It was strange, but suddenly the rest of what was happening didn’t matter. Even as he looks towards Opal - tall, corrupt, three sets of arms and black ichor dripping down her face - rushing at Morrighan, attacking her, even as he sees the other large spiders attacking Fy’ra Rai, or that an even more massive spider with a horrific mouth and the ground around it decaying suddenly appears, it didn’t seem to matter. None of it really mattered. He hears Dariax down below, calling out to them, “We gotta go!” before starting to head off, and for a moment he turns to follow him.

Go see Orym.

Then a familiar scream pierces the air, and Dorian’s head snaps up to where Cyrus is, underneath one of the spiders, his brother writhing as the spider’s pointed legs pierce into his body. The spider seems to sink lower as it digs deeper into Cyrus’ body. Then suddenly Cyrus stops screaming.

Go see Orym.

The words still echo in his mind, and he feels his body drifting in the air, following Dariax’s direction. But all he can focus on his brother lying on the ground, trapped under one of these spiders, so still, so quiet. And he feels the cold certainty of it in his bones.

Cyrus was dying.

Go see Orym.

Cyrus was dying.

Go see Orym.

Dorian watches, eyes wide with horror, as the spider on top of his brother rears back, legs up in the air before striking down at the prone and helpless body underneath, sinking deeper and deeper -

Go see Orym.

And he watches as Morrighan rushes to Cyrus, kicking the spider off of him and stabbing the creature over and over again. But he doesn’t need to see her look up towards him, tears streaming down the lagomorph’s face, doesn’t need to see her mouth the words “I’m sorry” to confirm what he already knows.

Cyrus is dead.

Go see Orym.

Suddenly he feels something tearing him, almost pulling him apart in two different directions. His body is shaking - not with tears, as he once expected to at the thought of losing his brother, but deep, indescribable rage. But he still feels himself drifting in the air, farther and farther away from where his brother’s body lay, unable to move to go back to him. The words still echo in his mind (Go see Orym.), driving him away, but the hate and anger burns in chest, reminding him that this is wrong, everything is wrong.

But it’s not enough, his anger is not enough (he is not enough, never enough) to fight against whatever compulsion has taken over him.

Go see Orym.

He moves slowly through the air, as if he can delay it as long as possible. Glancing up, seeing the monstrous spider still there, all his hatred channels into energy, and in one last act of defiance he spits out with as much venom as one of these creatures, “Kill your mother.”

The massive beast shudders, and he knows without a doubt that the Geas has taken effect. There’s no satisfaction in it, nothing but an empty feeling as he continues to drift away.

Then a familiar presence settles in his mind - cold, dark, sinister - as a voice whispers in his ear, skittering like the beasts that she commands, “It could’ve been you, and you could’ve put on the crown. Maybe it all would’ve gone differently. I wanted you first. You were too much of a coward to do what needed to be done. And now your brother is dead, and my favorite beast is turned against me. So I guess I’m going to have to make Opal count, huh?”

Dorian doesn’t say anything, as he just keeps drifting away, turning his back on the whole scene.

B. A Necessary Confrontation

People continue to pass by around them to exit the Platinum Dragon Sanctuary, but Dorian hardly notices that, as he stares up at the face of his father, Zeru Wyvernwind.

When Orym had mentioned seeing someone who resembled him, he’d had a feeling his father would be here, even while shrugging it off so as not to worry his halfling friend. And hearing Zeru say he’d been invited by the Ashari, a part of him can’t help wondering if maybe Keyleth had known who he truly was all this time, and just never said anything.

Something he’ll have to ask her about later, as he continues looking up at his father with the silence settling between them, neither of them really knowing what to say. Feeling the uncomfortable tension grow, Dorian does what he does best and tries to deflect, laughing a bit nervously as he tries to break the mood, “It’s kind of awkward, isn’t it?”

Zeru doesn’t answer, his lips pressed in a thin line as he looks at him, and Dorian sees that familiar expression of assessment as his father’s eyes pass over him. What he doesn’t expect to see are the tears that start to form in the corner of his father’s eyes, nor does he expect when Zeru’s arms wrap around him and pulls him into an embrace.

At first Dorian can’t help but stiffen, his eyes a bit wide in surprise. But feeling the familiar warmth of his father’s presence seems to shatter something in him, cracking the wall he’d so carefully built around his heart to not worry his friends, as he wraps his arms around him in return, clinging to him like he was a child once again as a soft sob escapes him, the tears that he couldn’t cry before now unable to be held back as he buries his face into his father’s shoulder.

He feels his father lean into him a bit as well, and as they hold each other it feels like something is missing, the weight of Cyrus’ absence heavy over them. Zeru’s arms tighten around him just a bit more, and he hears his father’s voice in his ear, “You’ve been lost to the world’s rumors for ages, son. We’ve been trying to find you for some time, especially given the events of late. We’ve missed you so much.”

Drawing a shaky breath, Dorian manages a soft reply, “I miss you too.”

Then, as the tears finally start to dry, he clears his throat softly and straightens up, drawing back and holding his father at arm’s length. He sees Zeru also try to collect himself, the two of them returning to propriety once more. Clearing his throat again, he asks, “Are things managed at home?”

Zeru nods, though there’s a bit of hesitancy in his voice as he continues, “They are, best as they can be in the ways of this current time. People are worried and scared.”

Dorian can hardly blame anyone for that. “As they should be.”

Suddenly his father draws closer, placing his hand on his shoulder as he leans over him. “Brontë, this is a monumental undertaking, a risk beyond words. There is no shame in returning home to us, leaving this to those capable -”

Realizing what his father meant, what he was trying to say, Dorian shakes his head, “No…no…!”

But Zeru pushes on, as if he hadn’t heard. “- and willing. The Silken Squall could use a returning son. Our heir to the Squall’s golden seat.”

This time he waits until he’s sure that his father is finished, that he won’t interrupt. And when he speaks again, his voice is steadier as he says, “...No. I will not abandon this task.”

Shaking his head, he stands taller as he looks up to meet his father’s eyes. “I love you, I love our home. But I can do this.” There’s just the slightest skip in his voice, but he forges on, more confidently, “I can do this.” Then, watching his father’s face, he asks, “Do you believe that I can do this, with the help of my friends? That I can help them?”

Zeru is silent, that scrutinizing gaze ever present on his face, as the moments tick by. And soon, Dorian feels a familiar itch of irritation.

“Do you believe in me, Father?” he demands this time. “Do you believe in me? That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Do you. Believe. In me. Father.”

Still silence on Zeru’s end, and suddenly years and years of resentment rush out of him, as much as he tries to contain it. “Is it so hard? Why do you pause? Why do you pause? The people that spoke out with me today did not pause. And I honor you… but I also question you. It was always him growing up,” he didn’t specify, and judging from the wince on his father’s face he knows that he doesn’t need to, “and he is gone and I am sorry. And it was not my fault, it was his choice. But I have a chance… to matter -” the words slip out before he’s able to catch them, and he adds quickly instead, “to help others.”

He takes a breath, but forces himself to keep going. “And all I need is to hear it just once. I know you love me, you have always loved me, but you have never trusted me. One time, without hesitation, your only chance.” He meets his father’s eyes with a fierce gaze of his own, hoping it doesn’t show the desperation in them as he stresses each word slowly, “Do you think I can do this?”

And for a long, painful moment, Zeru continues to remain silent.

C. A Reaffirmation (CW: Spoilers)

As he hovers in the air, staring up into the massive visage of Predathos’ second form, Dorian begins to feel a surge of panic.

Below he sees some of his friends dealing heavy blows to the monster’s crystalline head. But he’d also just seen Orym nearly swallowed up, only to reappear a safe distance away. Fear squeezes at his chest, as doubt once again begins to creep into his mind.

What is he doing here? This is so much bigger than anything he could have ever hoped to prepare for. What can he really do against a being trying to eat gods?

Was it a mistake, deciding to come here? What good can he really be?

As he watches the head of Predathos, though, it seems to flicker a moment, a slight gaze into the future granted by the Foresight spell he’d just cast. A spell granted from the boon given by the Matron of Ravens, in assistance for what they’re about to do. He clings to the energy, to the inspiration that the magic she’d gifted gives him.

And taking a breath, he closes his eyes as he steadies himself. “I am Brontë Wyvernwind,” he says, and the words fill his chest, “only son of the Silken Squall.”

As his eyes open again, he sees Orym and Chetney across the cavern. Chetney, in his werewolf form, forever teasing him about being royalty despite technically not being any.

Still, the memory brings a smile to his face, and he whispers to himself, “Your prince.”

The words barely leave his lips before light begins to shine around him, coalescing into nine motes of light that circle around his head as he casts Crown of Stars. Then, looking over and seeing Ashton roughed up, seeing the flash of an image a few seconds into the future of where the hand moves about, Dorian flicks a finger and sends one of the stars surging forward, aiming in the direction he sees Predathos’ hand in the minor vision, and the beast roars as the star directly impacts the hand threatening his friend.

D. A Turning Tide (CW: Spoilers)

The fight had been going fairly well, until it wasn’t anymore.

For a moment, Dorian finds himself surrounded by darkness - cold, empty, drifting aimlessly, and he isn't sure which way to go. He feels like he's been wandering through it forever, when finally in the distance he spots a faint bit of light.

But even as he stares at it, something stops him from heading towards it, even if it's the first thing he's seen in... how long has it been? He isn't sure. He just knows that it... doesn't feel quite right.

Where is he? Where was everyone else? What had he been doing before this?

As he tries to remember, flashes of imagery pass through his mind. A battle... right, they had been fighting Predathos. He'd been hit by a beam, but they'd all been lined up... were the others all right?

He had to get back to them.

Suddenly the darkness starts to fade around him, and he feels heavy, and everything hurts. He coughs before sucking in a sharp breath, and with a wince he opens his eyes to see an achingly familiar face above him.

Orym.

The halfling stares down at him, face pinched in fear and worry, and an empty potion bottle in hand. But instead of pulling away as he expects Orym to do, instead Orym leans forward and presses their heads together.

“We need you!” Orym says, desperation in his voice. “I-I need you! Can you get up?”

Swallowing thickly, Dorian can only manage a faint, “Y-Yeah.”

Orym nods, and this time he does pull back so their eyes meet. “We need you!”

Pain still flares through his body, but he still tries to push himself off the ground. As he does, though, images flash through his mind, little snippets of the future, and his head snaps up to see one of Predathos’ hands rearing back, preparing to hit. Orym sees it too, and turns to raise his shield just as the hand comes down.

Dust swirls around them from the impact that shakes the ground, but even as he braces himself Dorian realizes that he doesn’t feel any new pain. For a moment he wonders if he’d fallen unconscious again, but as the dust settles and he looks up, he sees the hand pull back, fingers dripping with blood.

And as he looks, his breath catches at the sight of Orym in the middle of a small crater, down and not moving.

“O-Orym,” he gasps out, dragging his body over to the fighter’s, half covering it with his own as if that could protect him from anything that would attack them. He can feel Orym still breathing, but he knows it’s not looking good.

And more images pass over his vision, giving him glimpses seconds into the future before he even looks up to see them happen - Predathos’ head disappearing and reappearing, trying to take a bite from a badly hurt Laudna but only managing to get one of her mirror copies; Ashton, pieces of his rock body falling off, wrecked and barely standing, but still crouched over Imogen’s unconscious body protectively as the hand comes down over them, and even though Ashton buckles for a moment, there’s a fury in their eyes as they remain upright in pure defiance; another hand coming down on Fearne, crushing her into the ground and as it pulls back she also does not move; an enraged Mister, furious at the fall his master, sending a flaming seed right into Predathos’ face. Chetney is nowhere in his line of sight.

He watches in fear as the flames that flicker around Fearne seem to shrink and dim. Next to her, Braius’ body spasms before falling still again, and Dorian somehow realizes they’re both running out of time.

They are all running out of time.

Taking a breath, he looks down at Orym, brushing the hair from his face before pressing a kiss to his temple. “Thank you,” he whispers, even if he doubts Orym can hear him. But the halfling kept him alive, and now it was his turn to make sure to do the same for everyone else.

So he slowly pushes himself onto his feet, wincing as his body protests, pain flaring from every tear and strain of muscles. But he forces himself to stand, then uses his boots to weakly fly up into the air. He hates to leave Orym’s body unprotected, but he has to get higher for this to work. He finally spots Chetney once he’s airborne, but the werewolf is too far away for him to reach, and he can only hope he’ll be okay, as he gathers his remaining magic to help heal his friends.

Pulling his magic into his hands, though, he realizes that it won’t quite be enough for all of them. Even with Chet out of range, there are too many people that need healing, and he doesn’t have enough magic. There has to be one other person who won’t receive any healing.

And as Dorian looks down at his friends, he realizes that it isn’t a difficult choice at all.

So he sends out the healing spell, watching as Ashton and Laudna gain a bit more energy, and in relief watches Imogen, Orym, Fearne, and Braius all take a breath as they come awake again.

It was all he had left. Now he has to trust the rest to them.

III. Wildcard

(( Dorian is back around busking in various towns and places, so feel free to catch sight of him anywhere. He’s a bit quieter, a bit more thoughtful, but he’ll still be happy to chat and play music for people ))