Not too many of the monsterfolk will have heard of Dewaint, and fewer still of the humans have. But he'll be able to establish a bit of a good rapport with these people as a nice young man, helpful and curios, so he'd get bonus reputation amongst the elderly population. This means that, should he need something, these people that he's treated politely and interacted with will be more than happy to help however they can.
Some have answers for him now, thankfully. Combining the information that he gains, he learns that there have been attempts in the past 100 or so years to take expeditions and research parties through the Wilde, to the heart of what had once been Dewaint Forest. They've all failed, and very few people have come back from them; those that have were never the same again, whether the Cwyld had gone too far, or they had seen things that left them a different person.
An older Monster - a grandmotherly Chimera with old goat eyes, horns, and ears; hair a lion's mane that's gone black with age framing her weathered, more human appearing face; thin body lion-like, save for the snake tail and goat hooves on her feet - tells him that she was about 15 or so when the last big expedition went out. It puts her around 115, 120 years old, if Eren does his math. Only two people came back from that, with the goal of seeing if civilization still existed in the heart of the Wilde. She seems like she might be able to answer his questions a little more readily beyond rumors.
Most just call her Ol' Nan, which she finds extremely annoying 50 years into the nickname. Eren can call her by her name, thank you kindly, boy: Sully Stichter.
Now Miss Sully here is quite sharp still, in her opinion, and is quick to recount what she remembers of it. She was one of the few Monsters on the expedition, so she didn't get too deep into the Wilde, mind you, but Chimera are hardy Monsters. Even as a youth she was strong - she lifts up her arm, flexing as she speaks; she's skinny as anything now that she's a granny, but it's all lean and wiry muscle that obviously hasn't failed her yet - so they effectively used her and her companions as beasts of burden. (She's wry when she calls them that, obviously.)
She went in far enough for them to set up a base that they could come back to, where the more... skittish researchers and such stayed. The Monsters that went with them were there as protection, but it was before the Coven had innovated their fancy magitech to protect Wilder and explorer Monsters, so they were at risk of possibly going feral or becoming infected by the Cwyld. Double-edged sword, understand.
They were in the depths of the autumnal trees, though. The true Wilde. (Not the boundaries that still sport green foliage where Eren and Mikleo were in range of, where most quests and Wilder missions have taken new arrivals.) The trees there are dying, yet sustained by the Cwyld; they infect them from the inside out, cracking the bark and oozing that disgusting oil as if it were sap. Smells awful, she says. Like death itself, if he's encountered death much in his life, or already met himself some Shades, there's no mistaking what it is. Rots the life out, it does. Replaces it with some dark kind of magic that they can see in that white glow of the cracks. The Witches with them put up wards against the Cwyld creeping into the encampment further, but it was constant maintenance.
But the group that went further into the depths... the only two that survived were humans, ones that weren't practicing Witches. They were almost infected to the point of no return, and brought with them three others that had to be "put down," she says clinically, because they were so far gone that to try and cure them would have been worse than torture. The shock of it would likely have killed them, anyways, with how deeply the Cwyld had taken hold.
In their hysteria, they did manage to tell them what had happened: a Cwyltid, bigger'n any that they'd seen. They'd described it as something that had once been a Monster, but any further attempts to get information from them had failed in the face of them falling apart mentally.
They were never the same again. Died young, sadly. They were good people, kind to her and the other Monsters, and tried to save their companions. Anaïs Thrush, and Oliver Moore. She still talks to Ollie's family, even all this time later. His great-great granddaughter is a Witch at the Coven. Good lass, though serious; good thing she's got herself a Puca to Bond with. Anaïs was an orphan, trying to make a name for herself and to combat the thing that lost her a family, from what she recalls of her.
As far as what might be heard, smelled, etc. The building smells old, and not just because the building itself is - albeit it's one of the oldest in Aefenglom - but because of the sheer volume of books. It's arguably the biggest non-magical library in Geardagas. The smell is musty/damp below them and more dry/crisp above them. The scent of blood or fire, or any especially combustible materials, is absent. There will be some gossip to be overheard, too, including:
—A hushed argument in a corner reveals that some aristocrats have attempted to donate money in order to get the mirrorbound removed from the Haven, but that it doesn't match the amount that the Coven brings in to Parliament and the city at large. There seems to be a rather wide split between people who think the mirrorbound should be taken care of ("they're people") to people who think that they should be left to fend for themselves ("they're not our people").
—The Witches responsible for Juril's snow have been reprimanded, but the Agriculture seats in Parliament are, once again, requesting harsher punishments.
—A few members of Parliament can be heard grumbling about the Wilders not sharing all of their knowledge with them, with one going so far as to say "we shouldn't be expected to share anything, but they should be!"
While the Wilders receive some funding from both Parliament and the Coven, and is officially approved by both of them, they are still technically a separate organization. Parliament is not necessarily fond of this idea, and how much or how little control they have over the Wilders depends on who fills their ranks at any given moment.
Sully is angry, and certainly remembers the dream - they all do, for that matter - but will tell him that they weren't able to find any answers on their end. Not especially, really. Most of them didn't leave the "safety" of Aefenglom, but Sully did a lot of digging in their destroyed homes, looking for any answers she could find. There weren't any remains, asides from ruins, trinkets, and the spectres that they saw of friends and family.
No bodies to go with the ghosts, but this looked like destruction that overtook everything. There should have been more left behind - people leave a trace on the world, even at their end. Why weren't they able to find anything? Any messages written where someone could find? She held her grandchildren's favorite toys in their nurseries and bedrooms, covered in ash and blight, surrounded by oblivious laughter that echoed wrongly; a grandmother should never face the death of her children, her grandchildren, and yet.
The Wilders know of several different locations nearby, of course, but not their current state depending. The cave itself's on their HQ's map, but it's not... It didn't seem a possibility until this year, and the good fortune of the Mirrorbound's dreams sealed any doubt for future endeavors too. Ought to tell us more of 'em when you all get the chance, should they be out the city. Might help us uncover more of what's left in mystery.
As for what the cave's for, might've been a retreat to hone magic, being so close to a formidable leyline and all. It's true of what Eren's said, that there'd been rooms kept clean and shrubbery cut without a hand to it, but there'd been no sign of anyone comin' and goin' even before the clean up process. They're thinking enchanted tools or something like that, or ghosts that're keeping things tidy in remembrance, but -- and Darrus shivers -- the second's probably, hopefully not true.
He can't say he's too fond of ghosts, really.
Ah, he'll say too, after a moment, that though he's given this lay of info thus far, it's nothin' he couldn't find in the Wilders' reports themselves, and there might be some more sensitive things he can't talk about. No offense to him or anything, that's just how it is... and it isn't like he knows it all either.
The sensitive information itself is just things that the Coven deal with proper, like the health of the leylines and the like... Stuff the public doesn't tend to or need to worry about. Darrus'll tell Eren he shouldn't worry too much about that either, it ain't for their kind to touch on. Witch's business.
The gov doesn't like the way Miss Nessie's runnin' things, he says. Some days less than others. Coven's always been important, since before it was given name he hears, but times change. Figure they see magic less important than their forefathers, and they'd like to establish a little more ruling on them, gain their own ground. Miss Mhairi's pretty much an ambassador to the Parly, you know? And they don't like that none either.
Coven's got no issue, he adds after a second. They'd be willin' to work with the Parly if the Parly worked with them, like it's been for generations. "But I figure they just don't like us," with a gesture to himself and Eren, "gettin' what we deserve, bein' beasts and all. Coven makes sure we do now, though the Wilders' always been ahead of them there."
Darrus shrugs, pouring more tea. Give them an inch, they'll take more than a few miles, is basically what it comes down to. They get it into their thick skulls that the Coven's a danger to 'em and they'll seek to crack down, and that's bad for everyone. Better just to report what we can to 'em and handle the rest in the dark.
You hear tales about that sorta thing all the time, a Dragon that roamed the land and kept the forest in check. When he first joined the Wilders, he thought he'd have to be more on guard, but turns out there's nothin' to worry about -- no Dragon's been seen for centuries out thataway, least of all one the color of summer... they'd know if there was an infected Dragon about too, they dive right into sources of magic to feed at that point.
Dewaint's steadily bein' looked into. You've got people who wanna push in more, dangerous as it is, but they're clearin' out as they can. The path Eren mentions from the dream's familiar though, treads like that stay long after the feet that beat them down have rested, and Darrus decides to throw Eren a deal: In exchange for not pressin' too hard into Wilder business, he'll bring Eren to the area it sounds like and do a bit of a look around with him.
The paths that the dragon once walked are familiar in deja vu to Eren, if overgrown to the point of not looking the way they had in dream; there's what amounts to a deer trail at their feet, one that Darrus follows with stick in hand, making sure to sweep low in front of them in case anything's awaiting in the brush.
It's always been a path well-walked by vermin and the like, he mentions. Something larger may've tread here, given the wide berth the older trees give the path, but they've long past. Pretty interesting rock formation at one section, further in where they haven't cleared, but he's not sure it's wise to bring a dragonkin into that sorta place. If Eren's wanting to, he won't deny him though.
The rock formation appears to be just a large boulder at first, with nothing special to its mossed edges, but Darrus points out certain unusual features on the surface. Maybe it's just his mind foolin' him, but these curve like horns, don't they? And this part here -- like wings folded, small as they are. Course, could just be the way the boulder formed, but...
Well, he waves his hand, it's not as if they've got any mountains or anythin' like that round this area, nothin' that could've rolled this big ol' stone down anyway. Unless someone moved it themselves or whatever, it's pretty much impossible to think it's all that natural, you know?
For Eren's part, it does have a remarkable resemblance to a dragon. Perhaps one that may have walked the forest centuries ago. The moss certainly has the same shade of green, and there's the faintest smell he may recall from his dream clinging to the surface of the boulder as well, but it could rationally be thought of as, well, the environment itself, if one were rational. However, it doesn't seem to be alive... Or, at the very least, awake.
On closer inspection around the boulder, there's dark spots at the base of it, akin to a Cwyld infection. Following these faint lines shows that they do in fact go from bottom to top, almost like the veins of a flower bud. It won't be possible to chip through to study them, as a note, but even that's something Darrus considers suspect -- there's no way a normal boulder would be this hard to break, so it's definitely something else.
It's just that they've no idea what, nor where to begin to figure it out.
NOVEMBER 2019 (TYLA, RE: THE DISAPPEARING SLUM DWELLERS)
Those who are farther gone than the others are kept in quarantine for the public's safety, she explains easily. Those who are traditionally beyond saving offer themselves up to be used as test subjects for various methods of potential cures for the infection, and our Miss Bells oversees such things for the patients' safety. It's a great comfort knowing our Coven's head is eager to be of such help, given that the last hadn't wanted to do much about it besides allow them to rot away in their own homes, barricading them in with fire and binding spells.
... Tyla does admit that it wouldn't seem very nice to an outsider, but they are volunteers. What methods are tried isn't anything she's aware of, that would be the business of Miss Bells herself or one of the twins that work there; she can't tell them apart, but she's certain that the ends benefit from the means, be whatever they are. It is for the good of the all that they strive forward, and no one more than Nerissa Bells in Tyla's own experience.
Does he have any other questions regarding the integrity of their Coven, Coven head, or infirmary practices? She follows up the remark by saying that while she's more wanted in the field than in that area proper, she's been enough with Darrus and his shoddy habit of being too eager to fight infected wildlife that she knows enough to satisfy most lines of questioning.
Integrity is what separates Aefenglom from old, storied places like Faegar. It's what allows them to live a peaceful life, knowing what they're doing is right, rather than be wracked by the guilt of stepping on someone else for their own gain. It's something she truly seems to believe as well, and with a hard pat on Darrus's chest she'll step out of their way.
Said to be the most beautiful city in all the land, once upon a time. The people knew it too, were far prouder than they ought be, and that vanity led to their downfall. Or so it goes, more rumored account than anyone actually survivin' generations ago. He can't say he knows anyone who did himself. There's a few paintings of its glory hanging in the city's library if he takes the time to look -- he'll know it by the wood of its frame, a deep reddish hue with gold curling in the grains. A gift, it's said, from one Coven's head to another... however long ago that was.
Edited 2020-01-10 14:17 (UTC)
NOVEMBER 2019 (SULLY'S ACCOUNT ON DORCH & LINDA HANN)
Sully leans back in her seat, humming thoughtfully as she listens. They haven't learned a bit, she reckons, or it's worsened with time. But people've always moved in their own ways, she'll say, some slower than others, and they're right lucky that Aefenglom's picked up the pace with Miss Bell's persistence at the very least.
She does recall a name from before then, in her long, long life. Drummond took over for a frail lady, Miss Linda Hann, who'd been in charge since Sully herself'd been young. The Speakers are a lifelong commitment, you know, it was only once Miss Hann's health was failing and there wasn't a descendant to be found that they asked for Witches worthy to test their mettle, who'd volunteer to lead Dorchacht. That's how it's always been, Sully says, if there's no children it goes to the most ambitious of folks.
Linda Hann, while under the same thought process as Morgana Drummond, wasn't half as unfair. Monsters weren't spoken of kindly, but they were seen as a necessity due to a Witch's tendency to explode -- and so were treated as such, not given complete equality the way Aefenglom runs but certainly better than how they are now. Proper housing, proper care.
She had a black dragon as well, which is called "Tarasque" in papers. Was often at the gatherings with her, which was unusual before Nessie. He can tell this is the case being that it's actually noted. Apparently very tall. Also noted in the papers. Many of them.
The meetings between both cities began to lower in frequency during a Speaker named Lady Gracie of Wickwood's time, actually, about three Speaker's lifetimes before Nessie's own. (So, about 200 hundred years, give or take depending on how long each life was.) They began to decrease, it's said in the papers, due to necessity of staying in their respective cities as the Cwyld became worse, rather than due to anything on Nessie's introduction.
(In fact, if asked, she'd like them to start happening a bit more frequently again now, but that'll be in time, in time.)
NOVEMBER 2019 (SULLY'S KNOWLEDGE ON THE THREE DRAGONS)
Sully's smile lightens a bit and she leans back. Yes, yes, the old lady in the forest -- older than her even, if that can be believed by a youngin' like him. Far older. Used to be tales of dragons three that'd lived on Geardagas, one in air, one on land, one in sea, all to keep a sort of balance and structure. Think of 'em like the Wilde's last resorts to correctin' itself, though Sully'd suspect that the dragons themselves are lost in the same way now.
Your kind takes in the infection too easy, she'd mention after a moment. But they seemed to be able to hold off longer than most, or so it'd been said, thanks to the Sisters' blessings. The protector he smelled must've been the old guardian of the land, a lass who could travel from one side of the island to the other in half a step -- or so the story goes.
Sully'd tell him that most things aren't too remembered now, except by the older folk like herself. They'd been fun childhood stories when she was young, after all, but mayhap there'd be imitations in the schools now, through song most of all. People've always been fond of singing.
She reckons the air stayed high north in the mountains yonder still, and the sea... Might just be snaking her way around Geardagas, or laying low in disguise. The stories say as much, that one sought solitude, one sought company, and the last sought duty. A cookie if he answers right who's whom.
Might be difficult to get in contact, depending. The forest's ripe with danger. The mountains were in better shape, last she heard, there's a mining city up thataway that might have answers more than she can give. And if that sea dragon's wandering about -- well, who's to say.
The forest sought duty, the sea sought company and the air sought solitude.
Oighir is the city's name, far north in the mountains there... It's one of the cities they know for sure have held strong against the Cwyld, alike to their Aefenglom, but they've lost frequent contact with them thanks to the spread of infection. May yet be a way there though, by way of the leylines. Sully remembers Witches basing their teleportation strongly on them.
The miners themselves were a kind people, warm despite the chill. There's a pair of 'em that came to live here some time ago, blacksmiths seeking to try their wares with the Wilders here. Might be retired now, but ought not be hard to find a Dragon in this city... if you're willing to apprentice, those meatheads don't like to talk about things that aren't ore and smithing.
A group of five, two Witches and three Monsters, set out to see what had become of a settlement closer to the heart of the forest of Geardagas. There'd been birds coming in at a steady pace about the rise of what they now know as the Cwyld today, though it'd been something natural for as long as could apparently have been remembered, considering the casualness of which it is mentioned. Eager to aid their brethren at the deep forest's foot, the group sought out the settlement and found it flattened.
There was evidence of something, or many somethings, having destroyed the houses and whatnot of the settlement, but there were no people about. Searching around perimeter of the settlement found traces of Arachne involvement, and so the group decided to move further into the heart, which was really their mistake. Within the forest nearby, which would've been the deepest expedition even now, they allegedly found the bodies of those missing, which were being consumed by the local Arachne, stained black and white by the Cwyld's effect. They weren't the only victims, the group'd written, because there'd been Dryads and insect-like beings (not Fae, Georgie says with a sniff, though honestly they more likely were and he's just real stuck on his theories) hanging in their webs as well, and it's with only one death of a Monster that they'd escaped back to what was left of the settlement, and then back to Aefenglom via the river.
Something more "recent" comparatively, more likely within the last two hundred odd years, was one of if not the worst of the worst expeditions.
The Harpy was more of a birdbrain than normal after that. Really scattered, he kept talking about black beasts and the like, he'd lost every feather to his name and resembled a disgusting, nightmareish creature, the pictures they'd painted of him are horrendous if Eren'd like to see them sometime. What they managed to get from him is that the creatures ripped everyone from limb to limb, and apparently drew their magic and life from them? Like some kind of dream eater (which he apparently believes in, despite not believe in True Fae?) and the like. Very short report, that one, and the location hasn't been found even in today's time.
DECEMBER 2019 (GEORGIE'S "PROOF" THAT FAE AREN'T MAGICAL)
The undeniable, infallible proof, is that there's no way for one to imbue permanent magic into something or someone, and there's no way a Monster would be able to wield magic in the way that Witches do now! It just isn't in their soul, you know? Their being. A Dragon can eat magic all day, for example, but it isn't as if their breath -- which isn't magic, by the way, it's just a concentrated amount of energy, hogwash anyone who says otherwise -- grows ever stronger, so the rumor of "True Fae" is just absolute poppycock... Georgie'll be more than happy to show him his files and folders regarding these facts at another point, he simply needs to buy new yarn to connect the latest points.
DECEMBER 2019 (SULLY'S EXPEDITION TO DEWAINT, AS TOLD BY GEORGIE)
There's more or less a straight shot into the middle of the continent following a river that feeds into the sea, and so a large company comprised of trained Witches, medics, researchers, Monsters, and record-keepers followed it as far as they could, and set up camp in the thick of the woods there, around an hour's walk on foot or so it's written. There they wrote of the very things that Eren'd mentioned, the state of the flora surrounding the base, and kept a record of cures they tried whilst maintaining the camp to see which was most effective in "curing" the Cwyld, many techniques which are still used today by the Wilders.
Time, Georgie explains, is odder the more you traverse into the Wilde, be that the seasons are switched as is and so the hours feel off as well, and many of the things are guesstimates. The only way to track it in the Wilde proper was to count by the visible seasons, and to know if you went in at the beginning of spring elsewhere it would be the beginning of autumn, if you left in the dead of winter there you'd arrive home in the heat of summer. That sort of thing. Following this, he says that it was at some point that autumn there they felt confident enough to try to dig deeper into the Heart than ever before, having been stopped prior by unlucky happenstances such as minor infections, equipment faltering, so on and so forth.
On this expedition of ten were Thrush and Moore, the former being a medic in training and the latter an inspiring journalist of sorts. Record-keeper. Archivist. So on, so on. What Monsters they brought along for protection unfortunately either died or had to be put down due to the Cwyld infections they held, and there'd be little word of what happened to the more brave researchers and Witches as well -- though Georgie's of the mind that they'd been taken and consumed, and there's doubtlessly craters to prove that within the area known as Dewaint in the oldest of archives. T'was these two and three others than returned to camp, and those three were...
Well. They were put to rest almost immediately, despite Thrush and Moore's efforts to save them prior. It was just too dangerous to keep them around. Thrush held more of the infection than Moore did on her part, but it wasn't to a level that would be harmful to remove, and the true scarring to their person was mental. Reports mention that they wouldn't speak for days after unless to ask after the companions they'd left behind and the ones they'd brought back, and it'd only been once they arrived back in Aefenglom that the Dreamers of the time were able to calm their minds enough to ask, to probe their memories for truths.
However, due to the amount of mental trauma they'd faced, the memories weren't of much help. Darkness and blocks that, when removed even a smidge, sent the two screaming. What was retrieved from these attempts, paired with interrogation, was just as Eren said: A Cwyltid unlike any other, something that'd been a Monster and was one no more.
Something interesting between Alissa's account and this, however, is the lack of mentioned crystalization, as well as no mention of any drawings nor guesses as to what the Cywltid could've been.
As for the question of chimaera, it's possible. There's all sorts of combinations of creatures, but Georgie doesn't see the connection between that and the records.
DECEMBER 2019 (ALISSA MOORE'S TAKE ON THE DEWAINT EXPEDITION)
She recalls it in some senses, more as warnings from the moment she'd declared her ambition to study and hone her magic for Wilder purposes, and sets her tea aside.
They'd set out in early morning, arrived there two weeks after from her map studies, and couldn't have stayed too long, being that they seemed to have come right back from her grandmother's words -- he was gone one day and never came back the next, even if he'd been back in the city at that time. Her poor grandfather'd lost his mind and magic, mumbling on about a beast with features unknown to any who'd seen it, and she pauses a moment before looking through her bag, her books, and setting before Eren a vastly aged piece of artwork, more black than yellow with the scratchy charcoal mess on it. It's of the beast, she explains. Drawn by her grandfather.
... Which isn't much to go off of, she realizes, but she points out particulars. The eyes are distinct, aren't they? Nearly draconic, but not quite the same as a Dragon's. The form she believes is the tail is lizard-like as well, but there's... something shaped as more bird-like wings on the back of it, and Alissa confesses she believes it to be a chimaeric beast known as The Guardian, which she's looked into. It's a creature which was said to safeguard the Courts spoken of in stories, and further evidence towards this is the stories of its wicked (not the good kind of wicked tho (lol)) ability to consume magic. More than a normal Monster does, and in a far more destructive way; it was meant to punish those who would seek to enter the Courts without proper permissions, though it's never said where the entrance is nor how far from the Courtyard it would've been, and she realizes they're all just stories but she knows it's true, she can feel it.
There's a beat, Alissa's hands unclenching with some effort, and she clears her throat.
She's aware there was another survivor of the mess, a Monster, but as the name was never published she's not sure whom it had been (though if Eren ever says it was Sully, his favorite elder, she'd be happy to have the info). Her grandfather would speak in his more lucid moments about the expedition, the travel there, of his companions, and he'd stop the moment it drew close to Dewaint... It was crystalized though, he'd said once. Glittering and beautiful. With every tree as shining as the next, and the sound alike to wind chimes. They were blackened crystals, she clarifies after a moment, but they'd been beautiful all the same. And from these crystals swept the beast they'd seen, the one she'd previously explained in having thought as the storied Guardian of the True Fae.
Alissa tilts her head, recalling her old lessons and personal researches, and nods. It could be a different dimension, she says, a rift caused by the leylines beneath the forest, or it could be a sort of illusionary magic that turns one around and around without progress... The True Fae were capable of everything and more, and they, as Witches, have only scratched the surface of the potential that magic wields. She'd hesitate, because Eren is the only person she's shown and spoken of this to in such depth, and then allow him to take a picture of the drawing.
In the Wilde, Ishmael replies somewhat smartly in that whispering tone of his, though it feels more mindful than spoken. He's far more aware of himself and his place here than Eren is and it shows, but he keeps from stirring the dream with gentle sweeps forward as they walk the summery green, and he doesn't seem surprised at Eren's transformation either; ultimately, what leads one in a dream is their hearts' desire, and that has been the truth for as long as Dreamers have dreamt. What comes with that is what is studied, particularly in seeking information, though he doesn't give much more than that.
The path seems long, but it's about as long as the one Eren and Darrus walked just before; it's the same, if more beautiful, life-filled in flora and fauna alike as small creatures flit at the peripherals of their vision. Their focus is his green lady, nothing else, and so they're more or less a blur.
And in the clearing, where the unusual stone rested, is the strong scent of pine, the glitter of emerald scales, keen golden eyes already turned their way. The dragon is just as large as the boulder had been, and reflects nothing of its current state: there is no Cwyld, there is no petrification in progress, and she is most certainly awake.
Ishmael hums in interest, but seems content to be a standby and allow Eren his time. He is just a guide and observer, after all.
"Who art thou," the dragon's voice rumbles through the air, strong and guarded, "and what is thine purpose unto this place?"
She dips her head slightly in acknowledgement, and speaks again. "I am Créia. What dost thou wish to speak about, dragonling? Thou hath the look of desperation about thineself, and it begets mine own concern."
After being asked if she remembers being petrified: Her gaze remains even, then it settles aside at their third for a moment before returning to Eren. "I do. I remember that, and every dream which hath crossed thy slumbering mind. Tis a foolish, wayward fantasy, yet remains that which is mine own to see done. Then, thou art from a time betwix? Neither the moment mine eyes fell, nor the moment mine eyes open?"
Once being asked "Is the Cwyld the reason why you sleep?": "It is." Being aware enough of it seems to surprise Ishmael, who hums in interest again. "Tis protection granted to I and mine own, to ensure that all is not lost. That a future can be protected, distant as it could be, but I confess t'was not mine desire to leave that which I hath called home."
She stands, towering high against the canopy of the surrounding forest, and swishes her tail as she turns.
"Come. I will show thou what must be done, for thou has come to wake me, hath thou not?"
There's this gut feeling that comes with it, that it isn't going to be anything easy, but she's eager now that she's been found; Ishmael, for his part, reaches out to touch Eren's arm, and mentions that staying too long would risk them never leaving. As fair warning.
The noise she makes is one of possible agreement, and her gait is surprisingly fast as she treads along the forest, through the lushness of this Wilde and on a path well-walked. Dreams, as they often do, folds time within itself, and despite the distance they might've walked it's as if none has passed at all, no fatigue nor sense of steps taken, and before them is a tree grander than all the rest.
It stands tall with scarred bark, with evidence of ages past in the knots and healed burns, dark wood branching off into pine-scented leaves, though they're clearly not needles. Créia slows as she reaches the trunk, half as wide as she is, and presses her claws against the bark.
"... This tree," she says, "hath an ill feeling about it in thy waking world. Mine brethren of sky and sea have treasures of their own, but thou see here that which holds mine own soul; find a way to free it of this curse and thou wilt free myself as well. Find mine brethren and see to them as well, and thou wilt be one step closer to the safety of thy world."
Threes, as ever. Ishmael studies the tree, and mentions that there's a large sort mentioned in song and tale, south of their northern most sister city, though obviously he can't say for certain one way or another if it's the same. The trees are always bigger where the leylines pool.
She considers the question ("Would healing your boulder help you?"), watching the tree before turning to Eren again.
"Yes," she replies. "Yes, it is mine belief that it would."
— Insects, horse rats (white) — Titan worms protective of eggs. Shoot slime and carnivorous don’t get caught. Sharp teeth, nice [ this is starred and circled ] take — Moss, good taste, glow — White grass, shit taste — DO NOT TASTE FUNGI — No moon effects — Long moss swallows elders. Sacrifice ritual? — Fae look like beetles, not true fae. Fizz, pop, still good — Arachne, naga, vampires, 5 turnskin — No one has ever seen dragons — Population values strength = social status — Monster-Witch equality — Monster-Witch Bonds highly respected, city guards — “The City”
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INVESTIGATIONS
JUNE 2019 (EXPEDITION TO DEWAINT)
Not too many of the monsterfolk will have heard of Dewaint, and fewer still of the humans have. But he'll be able to establish a bit of a good rapport with these people as a nice young man, helpful and curios, so he'd get bonus reputation amongst the elderly population. This means that, should he need something, these people that he's treated politely and interacted with will be more than happy to help however they can.
Some have answers for him now, thankfully. Combining the information that he gains, he learns that there have been attempts in the past 100 or so years to take expeditions and research parties through the Wilde, to the heart of what had once been Dewaint Forest. They've all failed, and very few people have come back from them; those that have were never the same again, whether the Cwyld had gone too far, or they had seen things that left them a different person.
An older Monster - a grandmotherly Chimera with old goat eyes, horns, and ears; hair a lion's mane that's gone black with age framing her weathered, more human appearing face; thin body lion-like, save for the snake tail and goat hooves on her feet - tells him that she was about 15 or so when the last big expedition went out. It puts her around 115, 120 years old, if Eren does his math. Only two people came back from that, with the goal of seeing if civilization still existed in the heart of the Wilde. She seems like she might be able to answer his questions a little more readily beyond rumors.
Most just call her Ol' Nan, which she finds extremely annoying 50 years into the nickname. Eren can call her by her name, thank you kindly, boy: Sully Stichter.
Now Miss Sully here is quite sharp still, in her opinion, and is quick to recount what she remembers of it. She was one of the few Monsters on the expedition, so she didn't get too deep into the Wilde, mind you, but Chimera are hardy Monsters. Even as a youth she was strong - she lifts up her arm, flexing as she speaks; she's skinny as anything now that she's a granny, but it's all lean and wiry muscle that obviously hasn't failed her yet - so they effectively used her and her companions as beasts of burden. (She's wry when she calls them that, obviously.)
She went in far enough for them to set up a base that they could come back to, where the more... skittish researchers and such stayed. The Monsters that went with them were there as protection, but it was before the Coven had innovated their fancy magitech to protect Wilder and explorer Monsters, so they were at risk of possibly going feral or becoming infected by the Cwyld. Double-edged sword, understand.
They were in the depths of the autumnal trees, though. The true Wilde. (Not the boundaries that still sport green foliage where Eren and Mikleo were in range of, where most quests and Wilder missions have taken new arrivals.) The trees there are dying, yet sustained by the Cwyld; they infect them from the inside out, cracking the bark and oozing that disgusting oil as if it were sap. Smells awful, she says. Like death itself, if he's encountered death much in his life, or already met himself some Shades, there's no mistaking what it is. Rots the life out, it does. Replaces it with some dark kind of magic that they can see in that white glow of the cracks. The Witches with them put up wards against the Cwyld creeping into the encampment further, but it was constant maintenance.
But the group that went further into the depths... the only two that survived were humans, ones that weren't practicing Witches. They were almost infected to the point of no return, and brought with them three others that had to be "put down," she says clinically, because they were so far gone that to try and cure them would have been worse than torture. The shock of it would likely have killed them, anyways, with how deeply the Cwyld had taken hold.
In their hysteria, they did manage to tell them what had happened: a Cwyltid, bigger'n any that they'd seen. They'd described it as something that had once been a Monster, but any further attempts to get information from them had failed in the face of them falling apart mentally.
They were never the same again. Died young, sadly. They were good people, kind to her and the other Monsters, and tried to save their companions. Anaïs Thrush, and Oliver Moore. She still talks to Ollie's family, even all this time later. His great-great granddaughter is a Witch at the Coven. Good lass, though serious; good thing she's got herself a Puca to Bond with. Anaïs was an orphan, trying to make a name for herself and to combat the thing that lost her a family, from what she recalls of her.
AUGUST 2019 (PARLIAMENT VISIT)
As far as what might be heard, smelled, etc. The building smells old, and not just because the building itself is - albeit it's one of the oldest in Aefenglom - but because of the sheer volume of books. It's arguably the biggest non-magical library in Geardagas. The smell is musty/damp below them and more dry/crisp above them. The scent of blood or fire, or any especially combustible materials, is absent. There will be some gossip to be overheard, too, including:
—A hushed argument in a corner reveals that some aristocrats have attempted to donate money in order to get the mirrorbound removed from the Haven, but that it doesn't match the amount that the Coven brings in to Parliament and the city at large. There seems to be a rather wide split between people who think the mirrorbound should be taken care of ("they're people") to people who think that they should be left to fend for themselves ("they're not our people").
—The Witches responsible for Juril's snow have been reprimanded, but the Agriculture seats in Parliament are, once again, requesting harsher punishments.
—A few members of Parliament can be heard grumbling about the Wilders not sharing all of their knowledge with them, with one going so far as to say "we shouldn't be expected to share anything, but they should be!"
While the Wilders receive some funding from both Parliament and the Coven, and is officially approved by both of them, they are still technically a separate organization. Parliament is not necessarily fond of this idea, and how much or how little control they have over the Wilders depends on who fills their ranks at any given moment.
JULY 2019 (DREAM - FIRST NIGHTMARE)
Sully is angry, and certainly remembers the dream - they all do, for that matter - but will tell him that they weren't able to find any answers on their end. Not especially, really. Most of them didn't leave the "safety" of Aefenglom, but Sully did a lot of digging in their destroyed homes, looking for any answers she could find. There weren't any remains, asides from ruins, trinkets, and the spectres that they saw of friends and family.
No bodies to go with the ghosts, but this looked like destruction that overtook everything. There should have been more left behind - people leave a trace on the world, even at their end. Why weren't they able to find anything? Any messages written where someone could find? She held her grandchildren's favorite toys in their nurseries and bedrooms, covered in ash and blight, surrounded by oblivious laughter that echoed wrongly; a grandmother should never face the death of her children, her grandchildren, and yet.
SEPTEMBER 2019 (DARRUS AND SMUGHA CAVE)
The Wilders know of several different locations nearby, of course, but not their current state depending. The cave itself's on their HQ's map, but it's not... It didn't seem a possibility until this year, and the good fortune of the Mirrorbound's dreams sealed any doubt for future endeavors too. Ought to tell us more of 'em when you all get the chance, should they be out the city. Might help us uncover more of what's left in mystery.
As for what the cave's for, might've been a retreat to hone magic, being so close to a formidable leyline and all. It's true of what Eren's said, that there'd been rooms kept clean and shrubbery cut without a hand to it, but there'd been no sign of anyone comin' and goin' even before the clean up process. They're thinking enchanted tools or something like that, or ghosts that're keeping things tidy in remembrance, but -- and Darrus shivers -- the second's probably, hopefully not true.
He can't say he's too fond of ghosts, really.
Ah, he'll say too, after a moment, that though he's given this lay of info thus far, it's nothin' he couldn't find in the Wilders' reports themselves, and there might be some more sensitive things he can't talk about. No offense to him or anything, that's just how it is... and it isn't like he knows it all either.
The sensitive information itself is just things that the Coven deal with proper, like the health of the leylines and the like... Stuff the public doesn't tend to or need to worry about. Darrus'll tell Eren he shouldn't worry too much about that either, it ain't for their kind to touch on. Witch's business.
The gov doesn't like the way Miss Nessie's runnin' things, he says. Some days less than others. Coven's always been important, since before it was given name he hears, but times change. Figure they see magic less important than their forefathers, and they'd like to establish a little more ruling on them, gain their own ground. Miss Mhairi's pretty much an ambassador to the Parly, you know? And they don't like that none either.
Coven's got no issue, he adds after a second. They'd be willin' to work with the Parly if the Parly worked with them, like it's been for generations. "But I figure they just don't like us," with a gesture to himself and Eren, "gettin' what we deserve, bein' beasts and all. Coven makes sure we do now, though the Wilders' always been ahead of them there."
Darrus shrugs, pouring more tea. Give them an inch, they'll take more than a few miles, is basically what it comes down to. They get it into their thick skulls that the Coven's a danger to 'em and they'll seek to crack down, and that's bad for everyone. Better just to report what we can to 'em and handle the rest in the dark.
SEPTEMBER 2019 (DARRUS + EMERALD DRAGON)
You hear tales about that sorta thing all the time, a Dragon that roamed the land and kept the forest in check. When he first joined the Wilders, he thought he'd have to be more on guard, but turns out there's nothin' to worry about -- no Dragon's been seen for centuries out thataway, least of all one the color of summer... they'd know if there was an infected Dragon about too, they dive right into sources of magic to feed at that point.
Dewaint's steadily bein' looked into. You've got people who wanna push in more, dangerous as it is, but they're clearin' out as they can. The path Eren mentions from the dream's familiar though, treads like that stay long after the feet that beat them down have rested, and Darrus decides to throw Eren a deal: In exchange for not pressin' too hard into Wilder business, he'll bring Eren to the area it sounds like and do a bit of a look around with him.
The paths that the dragon once walked are familiar in deja vu to Eren, if overgrown to the point of not looking the way they had in dream; there's what amounts to a deer trail at their feet, one that Darrus follows with stick in hand, making sure to sweep low in front of them in case anything's awaiting in the brush.
It's always been a path well-walked by vermin and the like, he mentions. Something larger may've tread here, given the wide berth the older trees give the path, but they've long past. Pretty interesting rock formation at one section, further in where they haven't cleared, but he's not sure it's wise to bring a dragonkin into that sorta place. If Eren's wanting to, he won't deny him though.
The rock formation appears to be just a large boulder at first, with nothing special to its mossed edges, but Darrus points out certain unusual features on the surface. Maybe it's just his mind foolin' him, but these curve like horns, don't they? And this part here -- like wings folded, small as they are. Course, could just be the way the boulder formed, but...
Well, he waves his hand, it's not as if they've got any mountains or anythin' like that round this area, nothin' that could've rolled this big ol' stone down anyway. Unless someone moved it themselves or whatever, it's pretty much impossible to think it's all that natural, you know?
For Eren's part, it does have a remarkable resemblance to a dragon. Perhaps one that may have walked the forest centuries ago. The moss certainly has the same shade of green, and there's the faintest smell he may recall from his dream clinging to the surface of the boulder as well, but it could rationally be thought of as, well, the environment itself, if one were rational. However, it doesn't seem to be alive... Or, at the very least, awake.
On closer inspection around the boulder, there's dark spots at the base of it, akin to a Cwyld infection. Following these faint lines shows that they do in fact go from bottom to top, almost like the veins of a flower bud. It won't be possible to chip through to study them, as a note, but even that's something Darrus considers suspect -- there's no way a normal boulder would be this hard to break, so it's definitely something else.
It's just that they've no idea what, nor where to begin to figure it out.
NOVEMBER 2019 (TYLA, RE: THE DISAPPEARING SLUM DWELLERS)
Those who are farther gone than the others are kept in quarantine for the public's safety, she explains easily. Those who are traditionally beyond saving offer themselves up to be used as test subjects for various methods of potential cures for the infection, and our Miss Bells oversees such things for the patients' safety. It's a great comfort knowing our Coven's head is eager to be of such help, given that the last hadn't wanted to do much about it besides allow them to rot away in their own homes, barricading them in with fire and binding spells.
... Tyla does admit that it wouldn't seem very nice to an outsider, but they are volunteers. What methods are tried isn't anything she's aware of, that would be the business of Miss Bells herself or one of the twins that work there; she can't tell them apart, but she's certain that the ends benefit from the means, be whatever they are. It is for the good of the all that they strive forward, and no one more than Nerissa Bells in Tyla's own experience.
Does he have any other questions regarding the integrity of their Coven, Coven head, or infirmary practices? She follows up the remark by saying that while she's more wanted in the field than in that area proper, she's been enough with Darrus and his shoddy habit of being too eager to fight infected wildlife that she knows enough to satisfy most lines of questioning.
Integrity is what separates Aefenglom from old, storied places like Faegar. It's what allows them to live a peaceful life, knowing what they're doing is right, rather than be wracked by the guilt of stepping on someone else for their own gain. It's something she truly seems to believe as well, and with a hard pat on Darrus's chest she'll step out of their way.
NOVEMBER 2019 (DARRUS AND TYLA MENTION FAEGAR)
Said to be the most beautiful city in all the land, once upon a time. The people knew it too, were far prouder than they ought be, and that vanity led to their downfall. Or so it goes, more rumored account than anyone actually survivin' generations ago. He can't say he knows anyone who did himself. There's a few paintings of its glory hanging in the city's library if he takes the time to look -- he'll know it by the wood of its frame, a deep reddish hue with gold curling in the grains. A gift, it's said, from one Coven's head to another... however long ago that was.
NOVEMBER 2019 (SULLY'S ACCOUNT ON DORCH & LINDA HANN)
Sully leans back in her seat, humming thoughtfully as she listens. They haven't learned a bit, she reckons, or it's worsened with time. But people've always moved in their own ways, she'll say, some slower than others, and they're right lucky that Aefenglom's picked up the pace with Miss Bell's persistence at the very least.
She does recall a name from before then, in her long, long life. Drummond took over for a frail lady, Miss Linda Hann, who'd been in charge since Sully herself'd been young. The Speakers are a lifelong commitment, you know, it was only once Miss Hann's health was failing and there wasn't a descendant to be found that they asked for Witches worthy to test their mettle, who'd volunteer to lead Dorchacht. That's how it's always been, Sully says, if there's no children it goes to the most ambitious of folks.
Linda Hann, while under the same thought process as Morgana Drummond, wasn't half as unfair. Monsters weren't spoken of kindly, but they were seen as a necessity due to a Witch's tendency to explode -- and so were treated as such, not given complete equality the way Aefenglom runs but certainly better than how they are now. Proper housing, proper care.
She had a black dragon as well, which is called "Tarasque" in papers. Was often at the gatherings with her, which was unusual before Nessie. He can tell this is the case being that it's actually noted. Apparently very tall. Also noted in the papers. Many of them.
NOVEMBER 2019 (AEF’S RELATIONS WITH DORCHACHT)
The meetings between both cities began to lower in frequency during a Speaker named Lady Gracie of Wickwood's time, actually, about three Speaker's lifetimes before Nessie's own. (So, about 200 hundred years, give or take depending on how long each life was.) They began to decrease, it's said in the papers, due to necessity of staying in their respective cities as the Cwyld became worse, rather than due to anything on Nessie's introduction.
(In fact, if asked, she'd like them to start happening a bit more frequently again now, but that'll be in time, in time.)
NOVEMBER 2019 (SULLY'S KNOWLEDGE ON THE THREE DRAGONS)
Sully's smile lightens a bit and she leans back. Yes, yes, the old lady in the forest -- older than her even, if that can be believed by a youngin' like him. Far older. Used to be tales of dragons three that'd lived on Geardagas, one in air, one on land, one in sea, all to keep a sort of balance and structure. Think of 'em like the Wilde's last resorts to correctin' itself, though Sully'd suspect that the dragons themselves are lost in the same way now.
Your kind takes in the infection too easy, she'd mention after a moment. But they seemed to be able to hold off longer than most, or so it'd been said, thanks to the Sisters' blessings. The protector he smelled must've been the old guardian of the land, a lass who could travel from one side of the island to the other in half a step -- or so the story goes.
Sully'd tell him that most things aren't too remembered now, except by the older folk like herself. They'd been fun childhood stories when she was young, after all, but mayhap there'd be imitations in the schools now, through song most of all. People've always been fond of singing.
She reckons the air stayed high north in the mountains yonder still, and the sea... Might just be snaking her way around Geardagas, or laying low in disguise. The stories say as much, that one sought solitude, one sought company, and the last sought duty. A cookie if he answers right who's whom.
Might be difficult to get in contact, depending. The forest's ripe with danger. The mountains were in better shape, last she heard, there's a mining city up thataway that might have answers more than she can give. And if that sea dragon's wandering about -- well, who's to say.
The forest sought duty, the sea sought company and the air sought solitude.
NOVEMBER 2019 (SULLY MENTIONS THE MINING CITY)
Oighir is the city's name, far north in the mountains there... It's one of the cities they know for sure have held strong against the Cwyld, alike to their Aefenglom, but they've lost frequent contact with them thanks to the spread of infection. May yet be a way there though, by way of the leylines. Sully remembers Witches basing their teleportation strongly on them.
The miners themselves were a kind people, warm despite the chill. There's a pair of 'em that came to live here some time ago, blacksmiths seeking to try their wares with the Wilders here. Might be retired now, but ought not be hard to find a Dragon in this city... if you're willing to apprentice, those meatheads don't like to talk about things that aren't ore and smithing.
DECEMBER 2019 (THE FIRST EXPEDITION TO DEWAINT)
A group of five, two Witches and three Monsters, set out to see what had become of a settlement closer to the heart of the forest of Geardagas. There'd been birds coming in at a steady pace about the rise of what they now know as the Cwyld today, though it'd been something natural for as long as could apparently have been remembered, considering the casualness of which it is mentioned. Eager to aid their brethren at the deep forest's foot, the group sought out the settlement and found it flattened.
There was evidence of something, or many somethings, having destroyed the houses and whatnot of the settlement, but there were no people about. Searching around perimeter of the settlement found traces of Arachne involvement, and so the group decided to move further into the heart, which was really their mistake. Within the forest nearby, which would've been the deepest expedition even now, they allegedly found the bodies of those missing, which were being consumed by the local Arachne, stained black and white by the Cwyld's effect. They weren't the only victims, the group'd written, because there'd been Dryads and insect-like beings (not Fae, Georgie says with a sniff, though honestly they more likely were and he's just real stuck on his theories) hanging in their webs as well, and it's with only one death of a Monster that they'd escaped back to what was left of the settlement, and then back to Aefenglom via the river.
DECEMBER 2019 (THE WORST EXPEDITION TO DEWAINT)
Something more "recent" comparatively, more likely within the last two hundred odd years, was one of if not the worst of the worst expeditions.
The Harpy was more of a birdbrain than normal after that. Really scattered, he kept talking about black beasts and the like, he'd lost every feather to his name and resembled a disgusting, nightmareish creature, the pictures they'd painted of him are horrendous if Eren'd like to see them sometime. What they managed to get from him is that the creatures ripped everyone from limb to limb, and apparently drew their magic and life from them? Like some kind of dream eater (which he apparently believes in, despite not believe in True Fae?) and the like. Very short report, that one, and the location hasn't been found even in today's time.
DECEMBER 2019 (GEORGIE'S "PROOF" THAT FAE AREN'T MAGICAL)
The undeniable, infallible proof, is that there's no way for one to imbue permanent magic into something or someone, and there's no way a Monster would be able to wield magic in the way that Witches do now! It just isn't in their soul, you know? Their being. A Dragon can eat magic all day, for example, but it isn't as if their breath -- which isn't magic, by the way, it's just a concentrated amount of energy, hogwash anyone who says otherwise -- grows ever stronger, so the rumor of "True Fae" is just absolute poppycock... Georgie'll be more than happy to show him his files and folders regarding these facts at another point, he simply needs to buy new yarn to connect the latest points.
DECEMBER 2019 (SULLY'S EXPEDITION TO DEWAINT, AS TOLD BY GEORGIE)
There's more or less a straight shot into the middle of the continent following a river that feeds into the sea, and so a large company comprised of trained Witches, medics, researchers, Monsters, and record-keepers followed it as far as they could, and set up camp in the thick of the woods there, around an hour's walk on foot or so it's written. There they wrote of the very things that Eren'd mentioned, the state of the flora surrounding the base, and kept a record of cures they tried whilst maintaining the camp to see which was most effective in "curing" the Cwyld, many techniques which are still used today by the Wilders.
Time, Georgie explains, is odder the more you traverse into the Wilde, be that the seasons are switched as is and so the hours feel off as well, and many of the things are guesstimates. The only way to track it in the Wilde proper was to count by the visible seasons, and to know if you went in at the beginning of spring elsewhere it would be the beginning of autumn, if you left in the dead of winter there you'd arrive home in the heat of summer. That sort of thing. Following this, he says that it was at some point that autumn there they felt confident enough to try to dig deeper into the Heart than ever before, having been stopped prior by unlucky happenstances such as minor infections, equipment faltering, so on and so forth.
On this expedition of ten were Thrush and Moore, the former being a medic in training and the latter an inspiring journalist of sorts. Record-keeper. Archivist. So on, so on. What Monsters they brought along for protection unfortunately either died or had to be put down due to the Cwyld infections they held, and there'd be little word of what happened to the more brave researchers and Witches as well -- though Georgie's of the mind that they'd been taken and consumed, and there's doubtlessly craters to prove that within the area known as Dewaint in the oldest of archives. T'was these two and three others than returned to camp, and those three were...
Well. They were put to rest almost immediately, despite Thrush and Moore's efforts to save them prior. It was just too dangerous to keep them around. Thrush held more of the infection than Moore did on her part, but it wasn't to a level that would be harmful to remove, and the true scarring to their person was mental. Reports mention that they wouldn't speak for days after unless to ask after the companions they'd left behind and the ones they'd brought back, and it'd only been once they arrived back in Aefenglom that the Dreamers of the time were able to calm their minds enough to ask, to probe their memories for truths.
However, due to the amount of mental trauma they'd faced, the memories weren't of much help. Darkness and blocks that, when removed even a smidge, sent the two screaming. What was retrieved from these attempts, paired with interrogation, was just as Eren said: A Cwyltid unlike any other, something that'd been a Monster and was one no more.
Something interesting between Alissa's account and this, however, is the lack of mentioned crystalization, as well as no mention of any drawings nor guesses as to what the Cywltid could've been.
As for the question of chimaera, it's possible. There's all sorts of combinations of creatures, but Georgie doesn't see the connection between that and the records.
DECEMBER 2019 (ALISSA MOORE'S TAKE ON THE DEWAINT EXPEDITION)
She recalls it in some senses, more as warnings from the moment she'd declared her ambition to study and hone her magic for Wilder purposes, and sets her tea aside.
They'd set out in early morning, arrived there two weeks after from her map studies, and couldn't have stayed too long, being that they seemed to have come right back from her grandmother's words -- he was gone one day and never came back the next, even if he'd been back in the city at that time. Her poor grandfather'd lost his mind and magic, mumbling on about a beast with features unknown to any who'd seen it, and she pauses a moment before looking through her bag, her books, and setting before Eren a vastly aged piece of artwork, more black than yellow with the scratchy charcoal mess on it. It's of the beast, she explains. Drawn by her grandfather.
... Which isn't much to go off of, she realizes, but she points out particulars. The eyes are distinct, aren't they? Nearly draconic, but not quite the same as a Dragon's. The form she believes is the tail is lizard-like as well, but there's... something shaped as more bird-like wings on the back of it, and Alissa confesses she believes it to be a chimaeric beast known as The Guardian, which she's looked into. It's a creature which was said to safeguard the Courts spoken of in stories, and further evidence towards this is the stories of its wicked (not the good kind of wicked tho (lol)) ability to consume magic. More than a normal Monster does, and in a far more destructive way; it was meant to punish those who would seek to enter the Courts without proper permissions, though it's never said where the entrance is nor how far from the Courtyard it would've been, and she realizes they're all just stories but she knows it's true, she can feel it.
There's a beat, Alissa's hands unclenching with some effort, and she clears her throat.
She's aware there was another survivor of the mess, a Monster, but as the name was never published she's not sure whom it had been (though if Eren ever says it was Sully, his favorite elder, she'd be happy to have the info). Her grandfather would speak in his more lucid moments about the expedition, the travel there, of his companions, and he'd stop the moment it drew close to Dewaint... It was crystalized though, he'd said once. Glittering and beautiful. With every tree as shining as the next, and the sound alike to wind chimes. They were blackened crystals, she clarifies after a moment, but they'd been beautiful all the same. And from these crystals swept the beast they'd seen, the one she'd previously explained in having thought as the storied Guardian of the True Fae.
Alissa tilts her head, recalling her old lessons and personal researches, and nods. It could be a different dimension, she says, a rift caused by the leylines beneath the forest, or it could be a sort of illusionary magic that turns one around and around without progress... The True Fae were capable of everything and more, and they, as Witches, have only scratched the surface of the potential that magic wields. She'd hesitate, because Eren is the only person she's shown and spoken of this to in such depth, and then allow him to take a picture of the drawing.
NOVEMBER 2019 (DREAMWALKING WITH ISHMAEL)
In the Wilde, Ishmael replies somewhat smartly in that whispering tone of his, though it feels more mindful than spoken. He's far more aware of himself and his place here than Eren is and it shows, but he keeps from stirring the dream with gentle sweeps forward as they walk the summery green, and he doesn't seem surprised at Eren's transformation either; ultimately, what leads one in a dream is their hearts' desire, and that has been the truth for as long as Dreamers have dreamt. What comes with that is what is studied, particularly in seeking information, though he doesn't give much more than that.
The path seems long, but it's about as long as the one Eren and Darrus walked just before; it's the same, if more beautiful, life-filled in flora and fauna alike as small creatures flit at the peripherals of their vision. Their focus is his green lady, nothing else, and so they're more or less a blur.
And in the clearing, where the unusual stone rested, is the strong scent of pine, the glitter of emerald scales, keen golden eyes already turned their way. The dragon is just as large as the boulder had been, and reflects nothing of its current state: there is no Cwyld, there is no petrification in progress, and she is most certainly awake.
Ishmael hums in interest, but seems content to be a standby and allow Eren his time. He is just a guide and observer, after all.
"Who art thou," the dragon's voice rumbles through the air, strong and guarded, "and what is thine purpose unto this place?"
She dips her head slightly in acknowledgement, and speaks again. "I am Créia. What dost thou wish to speak about, dragonling? Thou hath the look of desperation about thineself, and it begets mine own concern."
After being asked if she remembers being petrified: Her gaze remains even, then it settles aside at their third for a moment before returning to Eren. "I do. I remember that, and every dream which hath crossed thy slumbering mind. Tis a foolish, wayward fantasy, yet remains that which is mine own to see done. Then, thou art from a time betwix? Neither the moment mine eyes fell, nor the moment mine eyes open?"
Once being asked "Is the Cwyld the reason why you sleep?": "It is." Being aware enough of it seems to surprise Ishmael, who hums in interest again. "Tis protection granted to I and mine own, to ensure that all is not lost. That a future can be protected, distant as it could be, but I confess t'was not mine desire to leave that which I hath called home."
She stands, towering high against the canopy of the surrounding forest, and swishes her tail as she turns.
"Come. I will show thou what must be done, for thou has come to wake me, hath thou not?"
There's this gut feeling that comes with it, that it isn't going to be anything easy, but she's eager now that she's been found; Ishmael, for his part, reaches out to touch Eren's arm, and mentions that staying too long would risk them never leaving. As fair warning.
The noise she makes is one of possible agreement, and her gait is surprisingly fast as she treads along the forest, through the lushness of this Wilde and on a path well-walked. Dreams, as they often do, folds time within itself, and despite the distance they might've walked it's as if none has passed at all, no fatigue nor sense of steps taken, and before them is a tree grander than all the rest.
It stands tall with scarred bark, with evidence of ages past in the knots and healed burns, dark wood branching off into pine-scented leaves, though they're clearly not needles. Créia slows as she reaches the trunk, half as wide as she is, and presses her claws against the bark.
"... This tree," she says, "hath an ill feeling about it in thy waking world. Mine brethren of sky and sea have treasures of their own, but thou see here that which holds mine own soul; find a way to free it of this curse and thou wilt free myself as well. Find mine brethren and see to them as well, and thou wilt be one step closer to the safety of thy world."
Threes, as ever. Ishmael studies the tree, and mentions that there's a large sort mentioned in song and tale, south of their northern most sister city, though obviously he can't say for certain one way or another if it's the same. The trees are always bigger where the leylines pool.
She considers the question ("Would healing your boulder help you?"), watching the tree before turning to Eren again.
"Yes," she replies. "Yes, it is mine belief that it would."
NOTES ON THE UNDERGROUND
— Titan worms protective of eggs. Shoot slime and carnivorous don’t get caught. Sharp teeth, nice [ this is starred and circled ] take
— Moss, good taste, glow
— White grass, shit taste
— DO NOT TASTE FUNGI
— No moon effects
— Long moss swallows elders. Sacrifice ritual?
— Fae look like beetles, not true fae. Fizz, pop, still good
— Arachne, naga, vampires, 5 turnskin
— No one has ever seen dragons
— Population values strength = social status
— Monster-Witch equality
— Monster-Witch Bonds highly respected, city guards
— “The City”