even clear eyes suddenly look black in this night

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even clear eyes suddenly look black in this night

The world beneath Darrow — or wherever it is, it really isn't clear to Shion how literal its location underneath Darrow is — is a strange and fascinating place, and he doesn't much care for it. If pressed, he'd say he came here by accident (a lie) or that he's bored (true), but really, he's only here for answers. Maybe it won't get him anywhere, but neither has anything else he's done in the last several months, and he's not about to stop trying. Finding a way out of Darrow and into another shadow Darrow is simple enough, but maybe finding the path out will give him some notion as to how he might escape the first one.

It's too many Darrows to keep straight even in his own head.

The ash is thick enough in the air in places that even vampire lungs struggle with it, but he grits his teeth and bears it (admittedly an option humans don't typically have), because he doesn't feel any particular desire to draw attention by coughing. He has no qualms about fighting the various monstrosities roaming about the dark streets, but he's also trying to be vaguely reasonable about not overdoing it. As far as he can tell, hardly anything here is truly alive, and he's not taking his chances feeding on one of those things, so he can't push himself past what he's equipped to handle if he wants to get out of here just fine. Which he very much does.

During the day, dodging them is easy enough, but as night comes over the city — hard to tell with how dingy it already is — their numbers grow. He's starting to think he'll need to find a place to hide for the night, and isn't that funny? He's the one who's supposed to be active only at night. His kind anyway. That's never been an issue for him, after all. Walking in the sun easily has long been a perfect disguise.

From what he read and heard from others in his snooping, consecrated ground should be safe. All he has to do is get to one of Darrow's various places of worship and he's in for a long, dull night. He's not rushing to find a bunker because he still has exploring to do, but he makes his way in the general direction of the street behind Petros Park that houses several churches. The park itself as a pathway is out of the question — it's giving tar pits more than picnic spot — so he takes his time working his way around the outer edge, observing the creatures he sees, dodging when they get close. Though they seem to be in the countryside, as are a couple known points of entry, the bulk of the entities seem to flock to the city itself. What's the reason for that? Is there something within the city itself, the same thing that causes the churning flames below its surface? He hopes not. He has no desire to walk through fire. Or is there some point in the city that might prove to be his answer? He contemplates staying out and following some of them about a while longer, and he might yet, but first he wants to stake a claim on a spot to rest tonight and make note of some of his thoughts.

He's not far off from one of the churches when he hears what sounds like a voice, a markedly human one. One he is, in fact, extraordinarily familiar with. Poking his head out from around the corner rather than just striding straight ahead as he'd been about to do, he observes the scene before him — Elora with her funny little stick in hand, poised to do damage to a couple of the gruesome beings that inhabit this particular hellhole.

He moves closer with purposeful steps — loud ones, particularly given how quietly he usually walks — making sure he doesn't catch her off-guard. From what he's gleaned, she's got power enough to take care of this duo on her own. He hasn't yet seen her do anything like that, though, and if she can't, he will, but he's not going to assume that he's misunderstood her capabilities or that she's in distress.

"It's just me," he says, lingering a few feet away, poised to step in at the first sign she wants him to.

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Not for the first time since she set foot into this weird, alternate version of Darrow, and probably not for the last either, Elora thinks she is so sick of this shit.

It's familiar, is the problem, like an echo or a variation of a theme, different and yet not entirely so. The ash raining from the sky, the creatures that roam the streets, the sense of being somewhere she shouldn't, it all reminds her painfully of being in the Immemorial City. Of course, she didn't have to throw herself off a waterfall to wind up here — just poke at a little shimmering spot in the air — but it still feels like it could be at the end of the world. All of it sits so uneasily with her that at first she genuinely has to question if she is back there, if this is all just a trick of the Crone's, another illusion.

She's mostly, not entirely, ruled it out by the time she winds up facing off with a couple of the creepy-looking fuckers in the street, wand at the ready. The appearance of Shion is actually what pushes her into certainty, his presence reassuringly incongruous with the idea of this being connected to the mess back home.

"At least there's someone here who makes for good company," she huffs, half-teasing. Maybe she should be more worried about these things, but she's faced worse, and Willow trained her well. She interrupts herself to utter a spell, green light shooting out of the tip of her wand and very satisfyingly into one of the creatures' faces, before she spares a glance at Shion and continues. "This might be a good time to get inside."

"Me?" Shion asks, just to be certain she isn't trying to usher him off into safety without her. It'd be cute of her, but it isn't happening. She's one of his people now, which means he looks out for her, even if, right now, looking is all he means to do. She's got this covered, after all. "But I'm enjoying the show."

He really is, at that. Getting to watch her in action is a treat, not least because she doesn't seem fazed by having to do all this. Confident, competent, powerful — hell, if he weren't already attracted to her, this would do the trick.

He keeps his distance, though, so she won't have to calculate his safety into her attacks, and continues paying attention to their surroundings. They don't need additional creeps taking them by surprise. It would be ideal if they could get through this without him having to jump in and show off just how strong he actually is. Clever though Elora may be, he doesn't think she's realized yet that he's not quite human, and despite the number of people who now know, he doesn't see a reason for her to be one of them.

"Oh, well, in that case," Elora says with a teasing, exaggerated roll of her eyes, as if this being entertaining for him is the only thing for her to be considering at the moment. It isn't, but it does make this all a little less tedious. Probably she should be more worried than she is. And it's not exactly that she isn't, because this is definitely some sort of nightmare of a situation and these creepy things seem to mean business, but she's handled this before, or something close enough to it. She'll be fine. She needs to make sure Shion is, too, but they got through the Purge well enough, so she feels fairly confident in that regard, too.

Sometimes it surprises her a little, how much she knows she is and even feels capable of now. She's come a long way from being a shy kitchen girl in Tir Asleen.

As such, when she turns her attention back to the lumbering would-be attackers, she does put a little extra flair into her spells and the accompanying movements. They're familiar now, sort of like a song or a poem, words that she doesn't have to think too hard about as she whirls around with another burst of light from her wand. She dispatches of them in fairly short order, and only then, when things are comparatively quiet and still again, does she spare a moment to really take in the sight of them, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "Ew."

Gross as the creatures are, Shion finds himself grinning as he watches her. She's starting to show off a little by the end of it, he thinks, and it's delightful to see. He applauds accordingly as she concludes, sauntering towards her.

"Nice work," he says, looking from her to the things and then quickly back again (much better view). "Not that I have anything to compare to, but you're good." It's not like they have magic back home that he's familiar with. There are all sorts in Darrow, though, and his curiosity about them is insatiable. It's unfortunate that Elora's doesn't seem to be something he can learn. "I feel much safer now I have such stalwart company."

He actually feels slightly more nervous, since he'll have to check himself with her around, but she more than pulls her weight. They'll be fine.

"Happy to be of service," Elora replies with a teasing smile, sweeping into an exaggerated curtsy. It's a little strange, actually, to hear him say she's good and to know that, whether he has something to compare to or not, it's true. Just like a lot has changed since she was a servant girl in the palace kitchens, a lot has changed too since she first found out who she really was and couldn't wrap her head around it or manage even to make a simple eckleberry bush grow. She'd been so full of doubt then. She still is sometimes, but less about what she's capable of and more just the daunting scope of what she's supposed to be, how she could never live up to the expectation and the worship.

None of that matters right now. What matters is that it feels good to be able to put her powers to use for a change, and that, all joking aside, she really is glad to be able to help a friend. She doesn't know what she would do if anything happened to Shion.

"Now we really should get somewhere safe, though."

There were more places Shion intended to investigate today, but it'd be better to follow her lead on this, he's sure. Besides, he'll get other chances. She can take care of herself, obviously, but he'll feel better if he can make sure she gets somewhere she doesn't need to.

"Sounds like a plan to me," he says. "There'll only be more of them as it gets later. Got anywhere in mind?"

He has a suggestion, based on what he's heard, but he's curious what she knows, if anything. Not everyone's been snooping like he has. Every bit of information, confirmed or rumor, has value.

"...Not a clue," Elora says, clearly not having thought quite that far. They should be able to find somewhere inside and out of the way, block whatever doors, but in retrospect, safe seems like asking for a lot in this hellscape. She's confident enough in her own abilities — the way she just dispatched those gross things confirmed that — but that doesn't mean she wants to go inviting any trouble, especially not with Shion here, too. Taking care of herself is one thing. Looking after a friend is another.

"What about you?"

Shion grins, nodding. There's no point playing the fool with Elora, not to the usual degree, and he rather likes the idea of being useful.

"This way," he says, starting down the street, hands in his pockets. "For some reason, they don't like churches. Or synagogues or whatnot. Places of worship, they avoid them. Seems kinda cliché, but it does at least mean those places are safe."

He's heard about these things from others, but he's also observed it. They won't even step on the property, never mind try to enter the church, and it's entertaining to taunt them with that.

"Hey, whatever works," Elora says with a shrug. She has little knowledge of the various religions people practice in Darrow, aside from the deep discomfort she found pertaining to Christmas some months ago. While she knows she can hold her own around whatever the hell the creatures here are, though, she doesn't want to just be a sitting duck out in the open, and she definitely doesn't want Shion to be one either. If there's a safe place to go, they should get there.

Following along after him, she asks, "How long have you been here?"

Shion squints up at the sky as he walks, trying to gauge the hour. It's hard to tell what time of day it actually is. It seems to have gone from dark to darker, but that's all he can say for certain.

He hums, thoughtful, head cocked to the side in consideration. "Several hours?" he guesses. "I think. Hard to tell down here. Long enough to meet a bunch of the locals, not long enough to find a way out."

He keeps his voice a little quieter than usual, not wanting to draw undue attention. They can handle it, of course, but Elora doesn't need to know that.

"Are all the locals like those?" Elora asks, making a face as she glances back in the direction of the carnage they've left behind. She doesn't feel bad about it, mostly because they didn't really seem like people in any sense of the word, nothing under the surface but nastiness and some programmed instinct to attack. She thinks again of the Crone and her, well, cronies, similarly monstrous. Strange, really, how this place can be so very different and still bring back such vivid memories of the Immemorial City.

In spite of her words and her wand, she keeps her own voice quieter than she otherwise would too. Just because she can hold her own in a fight doesn't mean she wants to invite another one, especially not with Shion to look out for. "Because if so, gross."

Shion nods, sighing. "Hideous, every last one," he affirms. "And none of them seem all that bright or capable of rational thought. Just a lot of flailing arms and weird noises and acidic goo." He's not touching any of that stuff to find out, though. He'd seen it come out of one of their chests earlier, black and gunky, and even he'd known right away it's the kind of thing labeled do not touch where you'd better actually listen. He's taken care to keep them turned away from him when he has to fight any of them. For the most part, though, he tries to focus on evading them. There's something satisfying about a fight and he doesn't get much of that these days, but he doesn't want to take too many risks either, and hiding in plain sight is its own kind of fun.

If it were just him, he'd head back up to the rooftops. Being able to walk on most surfaces without issue comes in handy here. These things lumber around on the ground, and they don't seem to take much notice of him when he's up above them. Whatever Elora's magic entails, though, he's not sure she could follow him so well up there. He'll just have to be particularly cautious.

"They're everywhere," he says, "but no sign of an exit."

"Of course," Elora says with an exaggerated sigh. An exit would be too simple. It's still not quite as unnerving as it probably ought to be, something she puts down to the fact that it's still recognizably Darrow — a different Darrow, but Darrow nonetheless, its streets and buildings the same, like someone copied it exactly and then made it worse. For them to have wound up here, she's sure there must be a way back. Trying to find it feels less important right now, though, than getting somewhere safe for the moment. They can brainstorm then, and she can venture back out later, but she really doesn't want to risk anything happening to Shion.

"I'm glad you've managed to stay safe," she adds, because she is, and because however easily she dispatched of those nasty beings, that doesn't make them any less dangerous. "Giant acid-goo-spouting creatures aren't anything to take too lightly."

For a moment, Shion finds himself feeling guilty for his continued omissions. Elora's been nothing but kind to him, and it's mean to make her worry when he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He's already told more people than he should have, though. He needs to get himself together. The best way to protect himself is to keep maintaining his secrets.

They're not too far from the street that holds most of Darrow's places of worship, at least. Once they get inside, they won't have to worry about the creatures and he won't have to fend off any feelings about his deception if the topic isn't actively being discussed.

"No, they look surprisingly light," he deadpans. "I bet I could lift one, if I wanted a face full of goo." Ever so slightly more serious, he shrugs. "I'm fine. And you're here, so I'm double fine."

"Guess it's a good thing I stumbled through that weird little shimmery spot," Elora says, dry but fond, as she shakes her head. She means it. The last thing she would want is for anything to happen to a friend of hers here, and for her to be none the wiser back in the normal version of Darrow. She knows it's probably stupid to feel protective of someone just because she was the first person to find them here, but she does anyway. She'll put it down to the whole destiny-slash-duty that she was ripped away from before she'd gotten to do much with it.

"And once we get inside, we'll be triple fine," she adds. "No lifting of big ugly goo creatures required."

Shion laughs, but his heart isn't quite in it. She wouldn't be the first in Darrow to find out what he is, and he'd like to believe he isn't yet so attached to her that it would be a problem if she did discover the truth. There are plenty of people who'd turn away from him just for that. He doubts Elora is one of them, but he'd be fine. He'd hate fucking with her memory and the inevitable distance, but he'd be fine. But this is the same stupid debate he has to have with himself over so many people, the same one he's waged for decades, and he knows that the answer, in the end, has nothing to do with whether or not she'd think him a monster or even if he believes he can trust her, which he does. It's just better, safer, for them to keep quiet. He may be the only one here, and he's been lax, but it's still true.

And he still feels bad about it, because she's so fucking nice. And, sure, maybe, yes, a small part of him also wants to point out that he very, very much does not need protecting, but that's just a little bit of it.

"At least we're not too far," he says. It's hard to be entirely sure, the sky darkening too quickly for his liking, the streets lined with fog. He's fairly certain, though, that he can see the steeple just up the block that belongs to the nearest church. They just have to make it down the road and across, and then maybe he can distract them both from his forever conflicted conscience and the very real monstrosities out here. He doesn't need to understand what they are to be very aware he doesn't want to be on the wrong end of them. He still wants to, though, because they're a puzzle he can't undo and this place might not hold the key to his getting home, but it also very well might. "See, right up there. At least inside there won't be any of this ash either, ugh. Too bad the church probably doesn't have a shower. It wouldn't, right? I haven't spent much time in them, but it doesn't seem like something they'd have."

He frowns, listening, trying to place the sound he's hearing, a low, steady thumping noise. It's only when the creature barrels into him, sharp talons snatching at his shoulders, that Shion figures it out, mostly because the actual sight of giant wings gives it away. "What the fuck — Elora, watch out!"

Elora is about to say that he would probably know better than she would, given her minimal — that is, nonexistent — experience with churches. Pretty much the entirety of her knowledge is what she picked up a few months ago at Christmas and the intense discomfort that came with it. Under these circumstances, she'll gladly take refuge wherever is necessary, but otherwise, she prefers not to frequent those houses of worship.

Whatever comment she could make gets lost, though, in the pulsing sound overhead and then the giant creature suddenly swooping into their midst. "Oh, shit!" she blurts out, eyes wide as she gasps, startled enough that she fumbles her grip on her wand. Later, she'll feel like a first-class idiot for it. Even now, she can practically hear Willow's exasperated sigh, although he fortunately isn't anywhere in the vicinity. "Shion!"

As quickly as she can, she crouches to retrieve her wand from where she's dropped it, her stomach sinking all the while. She has seconds, probably, and that's if she's lucky, to get Shion out of that big ugly thing's claws before there's too much damage done or it just takes off with him or both.

At first, Shion is too surprised to feel anything more than irritated — that and a flash of concern for Elora. As much as he knows she's capable of protecting herself, this thing came out of nowhere, and he's not sure if there are more.

It's only when he tries to turn and pull free that he notices the pain in his shoulder, talons still sunk in deep. It doesn't stop him from trying to grab at the thing, but its stupid fat neck is out of reach and its scrawny leg is hard to grab hold of with those wings hitting him and his right arm all but useless. "Get the fuck off me," he hisses, eyes flashing gold. Whatever this avian monstrosity is, though, it doesn't seem to be very responsive to his abilities; it hesitates a moment and then keeps on, clearly intent on dragging him away or giving him a concussion, probably both simultaneously. He really shouldn't have worn a white shirt down here. The red in his peripheral vision makes him grab at the strap across his shoulder, ensuring he's still got his bag securely on him. He's going to need a drink after this.

"For fuck's sake, let go!" He twists and flails and sinks his nails in deep as he can, making himself as much of a pain in the ass as he knows he can be, his heels scuffing along the concrete. He's not sure how long he can keep this up, he thinks, nerves spiking along with the pain, a distracting combination. "Trust me, it's not worth the trouble."

There was a time when battle magic was the type Elora struggled with most. She was too self-conscious, not wanting to let herself be too aggressive or mean-spirited, not wanting to hurt the people she was training with, despite the stakes being, well, the world. That was a long time ago, though. Since then, she's fought the Crone and won, albeit with help from her friends, and spent as much time in Darrow practicing, honing her craft, as she does in the kitchen, sweaty and flour-smudged.

She can do this. She has to do this. It might not be the world on the line, but it is her closest friend here, and there's no fucking way she's about to let any more harm come to him on her watch.

Nails scraping against the dusty ground, she grips the wand again and straightens in a fluid movement, barely thinking as the words leave her mouth. "Fungi yoggoth," she hisses, the Pnakotic spell she heard when the Crone's lackey grabbed her. The bolt of light that shoots from her wand this time is blue instead of the usual green, and she feels a surge of power in her veins, enticing and unnerving. It hits the winged creature in its ugly head and at least seems to stun it for a moment. She tells herself that it's not a failure, it's a start. Gritting her teeth, she takes aim again, running a few steps to catch up with the bird-thing's attempts to drag Shion away. Some part of her registers that odd golden glow, but it's a thought she tucks away for later. With all the strength she has, she sends another blast toward the creature. "Just— let him— fucking— go!"

It's different, Shion thinks. He's seen Elora in action a couple times now and those sparks have never been blue before. The thought is a distant one, lost in the next instant as he feels the harsh grip on his arm tighten and then relax in the creature's shock. The first draws a sharp exclamation from him, but he takes what advantage he can get from the second, wresting himself free.

It hurts, though, tears at his skin through his shredded sleeve, the pain of it blinding. Pain in all its forms is one of those things that doesn't lessen just because he's endured plenty of it for longer than most. Healing quickly doesn't soften the hurt in the moment either. He stumbles in his attempt to get away, and those talons sink in again.

This time, at least, he manages to halfway face his foe. It means the bird creature's grasp winds up elsewhere, fresh pain, fresh blood, dizzying. It also means he has the chance to make use of his own strength. He returns like for like, digging his nails into its face and making it cry out in turn, fury in every flap of its wings. He needs to get his hands on its stupid neck, he thinks. Even if he's having trouble making use of his right arm, he's pretty sure he could strangle it if he could manage to get hold. "Stop —" he gasps out, and grits his teeth, determined. This fucking thing won't be the death of him, he knows that, but it's pissing him off and he's had enough. "Stop its wings," he manages, glancing to Elora. Her head shot was solid, but he'll need her to either take it out completely or keep it from beating his hands away. If he could get his fangs in this thing, it wouldn't stand a chance, but he's not yet desperate enough to risk getting a taste of the things that live down here.

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even clear eyes suddenly look black in this night

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