[hr][hr][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/01989753-c0d4-751e-94b6-ac932f65638b.webp[/img][hr][@Achronum][@Trainerblue192][@Morose][@Blizz][@Kirah][@PatientBean][@Teyao][@KazAlkemi][@kittyluna45][hr][h3][color=57F287][b]Late Morning - Sat. Nov. 2nd, 2040 [/b][/color][/h3][/center][hr]


[H1][center][color=magenta]Mikkail’s Sitting Room[/color][/center][/h1]
[sub][center]Willow, Nicky, Callaghan, Cassiopeia, Barty, Connie, Jake[/center][/sub]

The token caught Nicholas off guard. He expected a scolding at best from the shifter but his agreement had Nicholas’s magic whispering and in his palm, a gold disk with ouroboros lines around the edge shimmered into existence. Staring up at him was a dragon’s eye and when he flipped it to the other, a tendril pale blue smoke wound across the surface. Nicholas stared at it for a long few moments, before he tucked it into his shirt pocket above his heart. The bargain was struck, which meant now he was responsible for the fools Callaghan cared for so deeply. 

His impulsivity got him into the strangest messes. 

[i][color=5b8a9a]“Nach neònach am mearachd seo. Dè an seòrsa droch ghaoth a tha air do phlàigheadh ​​cho mòr, a bhràthair?”[/color][/i] Nicholas sent to his brother silently, nearly taking a step forward to inspect Cassie’s stump after Cal settled her next to Willow but one strange event after another had him halt in his tracks. Jake entered as if he was besotted by drugs, the strange start and stop in all his movements erratic and alarming, and although his manner of assistance certainly lent itself to a few more creative corners of Nicholas’s mind, the simplicity in which he healed a wound Connie struggled with and then what stumbled from his mouth caught his full attention. Nicholas had watched the march of time longer than he cared for and he could not claim to have seen a wound simply taken, like it was a decorative adhesive the younger folk care for so much these days. 

[color=5b8a9a]“Tha mi ceart gu leòr. Tapadh leibh airson ar cuideachadh. Is dòcha gum bu chòir dhut do chathair fhèin a lorg agus fois a ghabhail. Tha coltas sgìth ort, a charaid.[/color] Nicholas suggested, keeping himself calm as he did. His heart was racing at yet another person using that name, a name he’d thought struck from the annals of history when their village burned down and they’d scattered the survivors to the four winds but here it was, spoken as if it was not something that carried a power Nicholas would not care to offer another. He nodded at one of the now empty arm chairs for Jake to sit in and crossed the short space to Cassie, laying a hand on Cal’s shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. 

[color=5b8a9a]“Nothing threatening. He is a friend; the only thing that cares to hurt us now is the book in your pocket. But should your offer from last night still stand, I would avail myself to it at your convenience.”[/color] Nicholas knelt in front of Cassie, and gently lifted the wrist with no hand. He soothed a thumb over the recently healed skin. 

[color=5b8a9a]“You may experience phantom pains. You too, as the method of your healing is quite unknown to me.”[/color] He glanced at Willow’s once open gash. [color=5b8a9a] “Should you need something to dull the pain, we grew rather adept at concocting a tincture for respite from it. So oft a round did not explode, a cannon caught the elbow of a man, or an infection lingered more than alcohol could help and the survivors of such gristly amputations found themselves plagued with suffering they could not name. They claimed demons, but the only demons was the loss of their autonomy, an affliction their mind could not cope with.”[/color]

[hider=translation]

How strange, this mistake. What manner of ill winds plague you so, brother?

I am fine. Thank you for assisting our moth. Perhaps you should find your seat and rest. You seem tired, friend. 

[/hider]

[H1][center][color=gold]Into the Unknow[/color][/center][/h1]
[sub][center]Rohan, Finley/Dysphoria, Annika[/center][/sub]

The warmth of the fire seeped into the tatami mats and the warm, earthy, sweet scent of redwood burning in the stove curled through the space welcomingly. The faintest rumble of thunder shook the glass baubles hanging from the ceiling, each holding a different colored liquid ranging from rich amber to a faint pink, and at the entrance was a small shoe holder. Interestingly enough, a well worn leather notebook sat on the table; somehow it went unnoticed when looking in from the outside, and a few instruments were hung on the wall: a koto, a sho, and a tsuzumi.  

The light outside dimmed and clouds gathered far above the canopy.

Dysphoria’s tongue flickered out. [color=F739D7]“We taste no lingering presence of a creature, so either it is safe or it is magicked. Oh, perhaps there will be a secret trap. This would be fun.”[/color] The baubles caught Dysphoria’s eye and they swayed in tandem with them.  [color=F739D7]“Oh, Darling, these are delightful. Do you think our Dewdrop would like a shiny like this? They like shiny things.”[/color]