[OPEN]

[chronosynthesis]

WHO: Syrlya and You
WHAT: Syrlya gets cursed, and then has one bad day after another so he runs away to the hotsprings
WHEN: ~few days after the spring dance until last day of spring. Closed prompts through end of Summer
WHERE: The farm, around town, the hotsprings
WARNINGS: There is NSFW in these parts

[Do Not Agitate the Goddess (mute) | Edge of the Woods + His Farm]

[Syrlya gave it a few days, at least didn't confront the Goddess about her questionable habits at the dance itself. It doesn't go terribly well.

He marches away from the pond, his expression is twisted into a scowl and fists balled. Anyone who crosses his path in the immediate aftermath is met with irritation, and then a pointed turn of his face away as he marches down the path.

After a few hours he's had some time to cool off--though he's still sulking, toiling on his farm ripping up weeds and pushing new seeds into the dirt. If they didn't have to do this to eat, he'd let this goddess know right where she can--]

[Twice cursed (blind) | Other people's farms]

[Luckily, going mute only lasts for a day, and then it's back to normal. For a couple days, at least. Until he wakes one morning to the room being strangely dark, like the sun itself was snuffed out--no, but it isn't the sun that's the problem. It's his eyes.

The morning is a panic. A level of fear he doesn't often feel as he's suddenly lost the sense most important to him.

The first trip is a stumble to the clinic... unsurprisingly, when dealing with a talking plant it doesn't offer any answers except that they, at least, don't seem to be injured. Nobody there accuses the goddess, but an errant magical effect... Syrlya can only think of one person who is capable.

So, his option is to wait it out for now, see if it clears up on its own. That is... not optimal. But ultimately Syrlya can't find any better options.

Doesn't mean he can't try and do what he needs to. So, using a glittering sword as a makeshift walking stick (watch your feet) Syrlya strides out of the farmhouse.

Or rather, trips out of it, hitting a few walls along the way. And then he's on a truly blind path, tripping and crawling over other people's fences with no real idea of his orientation. Just where he thinks it is. The warmth of the sun isn't helping him as much as he wishes it did.

Anyway. Sorry if he tramples your flowers.]


[Make That Thrice Cursed (table) | The Town]

[The blidnness clears up after two days as if it never happened. So not a malady after all, it seems. So Syrlya goes into town to finish errands he intended to before the weekend. He's just headed down the street with a bag of groceries more varied than the limited vegetables from their garden... when it hits.

A plastic folding end table drops seemingly from thin air and smacks right onto his head. Syrlya buckles with a startled cry, his bag tumbling out of his arms and spilling to the ground.]

((His plotting post is over here if you want a more custom starter or simply something else!))

Comments

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya laughs.] I certainly can't imagine not seeing everything Tyria has to offer, either. The world is for exploring.

[Even this one, small as it is. Mostly because their burdens can finally be put to rest so Syrlya isn't working himself into stress about what's happening on Tyria. He'll have a strange story for everyone when he returns...]

[pactmarshal]

[ for when he returns MARRIED TO TRAHEARNE ]

It is.

[ There's delight in his voice! Why do nooks and crannies exist if not for poking their noses in them?

He's glad Syrlya is dusk, like him.

Trahearne looks at him more fully, excited little smile on his lips. ]

I am excited to explore these hot springs with you as well.

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya grins wider. He can;t deny he's looking forward to having some real one on one time with Trahearne.

They make idle chatter on the way up, with the occasional rest in between to drink, so that they manage to reach the hot springs by late afternoon. There's a clearing between the trees of flattened grass that clearly marks where other campers have usually deigned to rest not far from the springs themselves.

It's here that Syrlya starts to unload his pack, having the lantern and bedroll out and ready for later in the day.] Are you hungry? Or did you want to rest in the hot springs immediately?

[pactmarshal]

[ Trahearne feels very much the same way--rarely did the two of them ever get a moment to themselves that was not immediately work-related in some capacity. As they chat, Trahearne finds his gaze straying from the path, stealing glances at Syrlya. There are so many things he wants to ask and talk about, but he's sure they'll get to them eventually. He is very eager, in multiple ways.

In the clearing, he does much the same, beginning to unpack his sparse things, preparing his bedroll for later. ]

I'd like to see the hot springs first. [ By "see" he means "sit in them." ] I've never been before, and I'm eager to try them for myself. [ The last of his things unpacked, he stands. ] What about you? Have you been to springs before?

[chronosynthesis]

Not long enough to enjoy soaking in them. [Or what he hopes will be enjoyable, everyone else finds it. Getting knocked into thermal ponds by accident though? He's been there.

He doesn't dig any further in his pack, instead dropping the map into it and straightening up to point to the side.] They're just over that way.

[pactmarshal]

[ There's a little part of Trahearne that isn't sure it's going to be very enjoyable--what could be nice about sitting in hot water?--but his caution is muted by his general excitement about everything else. ]

Let's go.

[ He begins walking in that direction, down the trodden path, pushing past the overhanging branches and leaves.

It's the faint smell of sulfur that comes first, heralding the springs just past the bush. Sitting there are various pools, etched at varying heights into the side of the mountain, steam wafting from the hot water.

Trahearne pauses for a moment before he does anything else, taking in the whole atmosphere. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[The warmth is nice--not that it's been cold on the island, but there's something more familiarity about the humidity.

He breathes in the scent, before leaning against the rock to start rolling off his boots first. Gloves and belt soon follow.]

[pactmarshal]

[ For a moment, he just watches the water bubble and roil, and his gaze eventually drifts to Syrlya.

--Oh, right.

He moves to the treeline and begins to peel his leaves from his being. He removes everything, not really caring about modesty, and discards his attire into the forest. Compost.

He settles into the heated water and it's...okay? He isn't exactly sure how to feel about it. So he glances over to see if Syrlya will be joining him. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya piles the rest of his clothes in one spot, in view of the hot springs but probably far enough to about getting them wet the modesty leaves stay on. And then, after watching Trahearne's reaction, he slowly dips one foot in the water. Then the other, until he sides down to sit nearby. Yeah, that's a lot nicer if you don't fall in all at once.] That's toasty.

[He finally drifts his gaze to Trahearne, almost immediately looking towards his chest to see the progression of healing on his scar.]

[pactmarshal]

[ As Syrlya sinks into the water, Trahearne looks away, cupping the water into his hands and letting it spill out, taking in the difference in feel on his skin between the steam and the water. Hmm.

The scar on his chest is doing a lot better. It's still very prominent, yes, and it still looks like it's healing, but it's not as fresh and gruesome as the first glimpse Trahearne offered him all those weeks ago. And more importantly, with the way the water laps up against his chest and the wound, it seems like it doesn't hurt as much anymore.

Trahearne doesn't notice him looking this way, though. ]

It is. [ He cups water again, then lets it roll off him. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya stares for a while, but ultimately doesn't draw attention to it. The sinking feeling in his stomach just from remembering that moment is bad enough, tempered minimally by the relief that there is a healing wound rather than a corpse.

He averts his gaze and sinks down in it a little more, up to his shoulders, to go for a full soak rather than pour it over him. It isn't intentional to hide his own marks, but the steamy water makes for an excellent veil for now.]

[pactmarshal]

[ The quiet is comfortable, and nice. They don't need to talk, even though Trahearne is peripherally aware of what Syrlya is feeling, but guesses, correctly, that it has to do with his scar.

He gently brushes a hand over his chest and turns to flash him a small smile, his way of telling him that it's all right. But when he sees how deep in the water he is, he tilts his head. ]

Enjoying the water?

[chronosynthesis]

[Sometimes it's just nice to soak up the sensations around them, without drowning them out in idle chatter. Syrlya hums affirmatively, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back against the edge of the pool.] It's very soothing.

[pactmarshal]

I'm glad. [ Trahearne is finding he's...not a huge fan of this sensation, but the warmth is nice. He's missed the humidity.

He splashes some water over his shoulder. ]

Thank you for bringing me here with you. [ He knows it's for bingo, and as a result of a wager, but still. ] It's not often we get to spend time like this together.

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya purses his lips into a thin line. Not often, because their destiny called them to a great and terrible war. Not often because it claimed Trahearne's life, and for seven years time together was only a grieving fantasy.

Would it not be the and again when the return?

But he tilts his head over and offers a smile.] You're right about that.

[pactmarshal]

[ It's been a blink of an eye for Trahearne. Soon the number of days he's spent in Crescentview will outnumber those he spent in Mordremoth's hold; the buildup to which already feeling like a distant event. He thinks of all the time they spent together since Syrlya was a sapling. That it has been seven years since his death for Syrlya is still a bit difficult for him to grasp.

For now, he's just grateful they get to do this at all.

Trahearne returns the smile, warm and kind and fond. ]

I'd say we make the most of it. [ He wants their conversation to last into the wee hours of the morning. ] I want to know everything, Commander. What has life been for you since Maguuma? How has the farm life been treating you?

[chronosynthesis]

It's... quiet. Mostly, except for that blighted goddess and her problematic meddling. [He frowns. Yes, he could do with a lot less of her still.

Did Trahearne ask about his life back in Tyria? He's pretending he didn't hear that.]

[pactmarshal]

Language, Commander.

[ Trahearne frowns in turn. He is still a little afraid that the goddess can un-make him.

He did notice that not all of his curiosity has been satisfied, but he won't touch on that for the moment. ]

Has she truly been that much of a bother to you? I can't imagine there've been other incidents.

[ He's thinking about when he kissed van Zieks against his will. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya fixes Trahearne with a flat look before he dramatically rolls his eyes. He will not watch his language.]

I do not take kindly to someone muddling my will or senses, and she seems to throw her power around with abundance to manipulate us. I don't trust it.

[Gods, not even once.]

[pactmarshal]

I understand. You are free not to trust her, but do not forget what she has done for us.

[ "Us." Trahearne returns the look with narrowed eyes of his own. He knows this is complicated, but outright antagonizing her will get them nowhere.

At least the manipulation seems mostly harmless at this stage... Mostly. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya crosses his arms, almost pouting as he mutters.] Oh I won't be forgetting how she stole my voice and my sight.

[He sighs, waving a hand dismissively.] I don't want to talk about this.

[He was just starting to relax and yet the water soothe all the marks Adelis left on him.]

[pactmarshal]

[ A flash of fury glints in Trahearne's eye, his composure and goodwill quickly evaporating. ]

She did what?

[ Syrlya did nothing wrong (or so he thinks). Why target him like that?!

The marks, rashes on Syrlya's wrists do not go unnoticed either. His expression collapses into a full-on frown as he scoots closer in the water, grabbing Syrlya's arm before he can hide it beneath the surface again. ]

Did she do this to you too?

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya would agree, he did nothing wrong.

But his own complaining is interrupted as Trahearne grabs his arm. He turns to stare, bewildered... and then he realizes what his foolish mistake had been.]

Oh, uh--no. No, that was from... something else.

[His face flushes in embarrassment as just the memory of it puts a pit in his stomach that he does not need right now. This was not something he meant for Trahearne to see.]

[pactmarshal]

Something else?

[ Trahearne parrots, as though he cannot imagine there could be more out there who would want to harm his commander.

He leans over to get a better look, letting his thumb run gently over the mark. ]

Then what happened?

[chronosynthesis]

Nothing bad I assure you. [He didn't ask the details with Kaeya, he doesn't want to share them himself. His face is still gold.] There was just, you know, a particular bingo square of mine. It's fine.