[hr][center][h2]Close Encounters, Unexpected Guests[/h2][/center]
[@Foxsoxs][hr]

Long before they ever reached Vescarim, Astrid felt it. It was the slightest resistance, like trying to wade through water, but it was there nonetheless.

Borders didn't really exist. People drew lines on maps, but you never saw them on the ground. There's no line clearly stating 'this patch of dirt is owned by so and so'. For Ódauðlegur, the line certainly existed. The grass didn't look any different. The plants and animals were busy and chattering. Nothing seemed out of place. But after one step, she knew where the line was. Unfettered magic had congealed in the air so thickly she could probably chew it; it had even seeped into the ground, which tugged at her with each step. She had never been to Vescarim, but she realized that an immortal lived there. Given how potent the magic was in these hills, they were probably very old, very powerful, or both. And, in all likelihood, probably ran the place too.

The magic in the area pushed against her gently, trying to nudge her away and back across the border. The land had been claimed by an immortal and it didn't want anyone else trampling through it. No more difficult than tear a sheet of parchment, she pressed onward with little effort. Her own magic recoiled against it, extending from her soul. She could feel the friction as it scraped against the invisible mass of raw magical energy pervading the air.

Marik seemed no worse for wear. He wasn't an immortal, but he carried himself like one. There was an easy confidence in the way he moved. One look and anyone knew that he was quite sure of himself. 

Astrid had always been baffled at how quickly he healed, how he had survived fatal wounds, and how he didn't breathe when he slept. Grave spirits clung to him like flies on rubbish. Not even zombies garnered that kind of attention. It was spooky, even for her. Her talent for making friends was abysmal, however, so she stowed her curiosity and asked very few questions. Both had vital secrets and neither wanted to share. Astrid didn't know what she was or who her parents were. But she [i]knew[/i], intrinsically, that in some deep, dark corner of her soul, a spectre of the Blight made its home. It was a part of her and she felt she was a part of [i]It[/i], albeit a very small part of a much grander and more terrifying [i]It[/i]. Thankfully, monster inside her couldn't come out. Not until she left this immortal's demesne.

The hills had flattened some, yielding to gentle steppes. The path was an easy one. Two parallel ruts in the ground marked the caravan highway. Small stone markers marked the edge of the road at a regular intervals. After traveling at length, they arrived at Vescarim. Black curls of Smoke billowed from the chimney of a few homes. 
There weren't any guards per se, but there were quite a few people ambling around. As she was taking in the scenery, she felt a surge of power rush past her. Her stomach lurched and gasped for air, feeling as though she'd been sucker punched. A phantom sensation of falling sideways towards the town followed and left her feeling both dizzy and weirdly euphoric.

She struggled to focus her vision as the line of the horizon bulged then buckled in on itself, the ground rippled without shaking a single building. In the blink of an eye, a smudge of color in the distance rapidly increased in size and clarity as the world moved around it, like convey something from the background to the foreground of painting. Presently, a very large, exquisitely chiseled statue stood before her. She was awestruck for a moment, still trying to unravel what just happened.

Marik quirked an eyebrow at it, but only slightly. He seemed disappointed.

It took her a moment to recover her composure, but she quickly recognized the demonic statue. [color=#f2eac9][b]"Oh! It's... Vaettir!"[/b][/color] She said smiling, although still a bit bewildered. 
[color=#f2eac9][b]"What brings you to this village? You weren't terrorizing them with folk tales again, were you?"[/b][/color] She teased jokingly. [color=#f2eac9][b]"I don't see anyone running and screaming, so it must be a good town."[/b][/color] She beamed. 
Vaettir fascinated her. Apart from being a creature of living stone, he was one of the few other immortals who deigned to speak with her and didn't try to impale her on a sword at every possible opportunity.
[color=#f2eac9][b]"Aah... Umm... What exactly just happened by the way? Was that some kind of spell you cast? I know a few speed charms, but nothing to let you move like that."[/b][/color] Her mind was all too eager to get lost in thought and explore the magical phenomenon she'd witnessed.

Marik looked at Astrid, at the demon, and then at the longhouse down the road. He had already roughly guessed what happened. He glanced at Vaettir and gave a conciliatory shrug as if to say [i]'You got kicked out too, eh?'[/i].