Open | My Oh My That Moon's A Fright

[stitch_witch]

WHO: Lark and You
WHERE: Temba Whale Comb Sent Her, Temba in general
WHAT: Storm affecting a mage by manifesting ghost-devils, and driving her magic wild
WHEN: During the storm
WARNINGS: First starter involves possible crushing/choking risks from magic gone wrong, or possible nudity (listen she's a thread mage), Second starter involves ghost-demons that will attempt to hunt people down.

I. Thread Magic Gone Wrong | CW: Magic might strangle/restrain/choke those approaching her wearing fabric, or may fall off a person completely

No amount of hiding from the storm could guarantee one would come out of it well. This was something Lark realized quite early on the first day. The fog was thick, almost magically so, not that she could sense it. Not that she could sense anything. All of her power had shuddered away from her when the fog had come, leaving Lark horribly nauseous and anxious. She had rarely felt so drained in her life, and she longed for the teas Rosethorn created that might soothe her.

Weak and tired as she was, Lark resolved she had to find something to soothe her belly. Mint collected from the greenhouse she thought as she looked out from the Whale Comb Sent Her and save the evening clear. The fog had retreated, and not thinking to look up, Lark resolved that she must seek supplies now if she was ever to find any. Tea leaves first, then perhaps she would try and set out for the ships.

So she slipped out into the night, not aware of the danger she was putting herself into as she strode out into the open night.

She didn't make it too far from the doors before it happened. A scream tearing through the air, the moon's call shaking through her and through the city. With it came Lark's magic in a rush, swelling within her in a tide she could not center and control, before it started screaming free of her, seeking threads and fibers and cloth around her to grab, to pull at.

Any fibers around her might easily be caught in this burst of raw magic, and oh but the horrid ways the pulling could go. Seams might give and clothes fall off from around the one wearing them, before the cloth and strings and fibers might try crawling toward Lark. Worse, though, might well be the threads that could not so easily pull themselves free, for those could quite easily contract, squeezing and constricting painfully around wherever they hang, as Lark's own habit did now. The green clad mage was soon screaming in pain as her own clothes started to constrict around her, crushing at her limbs and causing her to collapse.

II. The Ghost-Demons Are Real | CW: Chance of being hunted/attacked by a demon

There is quite a bit to be said for how unprepared Lark was for all of this. She'd heard talk of the storms of course, but the last two that had come she had found herself in Sh'Ka during. All she knew of them she had heard from others, and so it did not prepare her for what was coming now. A figure in the fog, a flash of green robe and crimson hair.

"Rosie?" Lark gasped, then gave chase after her. "Rosie, it's not safe outside!"

She followed the figure, and froze only when a flash of crimson light cut the air above her, lightning almost seeming to shriek. As the light faded the mist around her grew dark, swirling and shifting until it became quite like the form of a floating beast, eyes crimson, claws razor sharp, and oh but it reached for her.

"Yerui," she whispered, eyes wide as she started to back away. "Oh Mila, it can't be."

And with that she turned and ran blindly into the fog, intent on flight.

III. Tired But Sheltered

Hiding. She was hiding. Lark was very aware of this fact. Dealing with the Yerui, dealing with her magic gone wrong, it was all far too terrible. Lark, strong and experienced mage, Dedicate Initiate of the winding circle and thus in many ways priestess of a goddess, woman who had seen so many horrible things in her past, was hiding.

Cowering.

The very idea of it left a bad taste in her mouth, and Lark had to push it from her mind as she laid there in the Whale Comb Sent Her, trying to rest. Rest was not nearly so simple as it might have been, though.

"How long until this horror might pass," she asked of the room around her. "Oh Mila, let it not be long.

Comments

good to wrap here?

[stitch_witch]

Luck might well be needed. There was new fuel for nightmares given tonight, and that could make her sleep far harder to hold to. But still she laid down, curled under a blanket, and tried to settle in.

Yep!

[crystalmaster]

Radley soon settled in as well, with needle and thread. Hopefully the night would be peaceful.