Flakes of snow drifted from laden branches, carpeting the grassy path from Innslee like the petals of fallen blossoms. Spring, however, was far away. The sound of her boots was sharp and solid as Alkaid headed into the small clearing where the locals had built a watermill next to a nearby creek, the only other things nearby to break the silence in the snow-shrouded wood. It had been a day since she'd first arrived, and yet she could only recall a select few encounters with local wildlife, a fact for which whose cause she was unaware of, barring perhaps some mixture of the winter and the villager's hunters.
During the night, though, she had heard wolves, proving all too well that the forest still held both predator and prey, but at the time that fact hadn't quite sunk in. Rather, another problem arose as their mournful howling stirred something within her, transfixing her gaze upon the Moon above, and at that moment the night sky flickered. A shadow danced across the night sky, swallowing the relative darkness in what Alkaid at first assumed might be a graphical glitch, and she then felt all at once the otherworldly connections and power bound within her deck suddenly vanish. She watched as dozens of stars in the night sky began to fade, signaling some great change, perhaps some sort of eradication or falling out among those distant, god-like entities.
No matter the case, the Web that was so carefully spread out from those figures appeared to be gone without a trace. By the time she had logged back into the game, some other ethereal energy had taken their place. More grounded, less like struggling to capture a flowing stream of powers and more like drawing from a steady channel.
Cloaked in a strange isolation, Alkaid was tempted to listen for sounds of villagers working in the distance as she cleared a tree stump to sit on. The comforting presence of those hearty, woodland folk whose warm meals and communal hearth served as distractions that were difficult to deny returning to. However, she steeled herself as she reminded herself of the task that laid ahead, a task that they were depending on her to complete. One that had already taken some time for reasons unfortunately out of her power, between a server maintenance and her job.
The banes of all heroic quests had to arrive in timely manner, after all.
She didn’t know how much time had passed in game after she had logged off, but she did know that a child could not survive alone in the woods for long. Especially not in winter. And the last time she had been logged in, one had gone missing. The boy was last seen in the early morning, and the search for him didn't start until the villagers realized he hadn’t come home by supper.
She accompanied them as they searched for the boy in the few remaining hours of daylight, only to have to bitterly return with nothing but a scrap of cloth. The day getting late, and thus dangerous, brought the risk of adding more to the dead, so they had to call it off. Logic that she agreed with, in part knowing she couldn't chance a late-night exploration in a game when she had work the next morning. As a result she had to brace herself for the chance of sighting that lost boy's dead body, and eliminate any form of guilt that might arise from such a notion.
But, she reminded herself, it might be worse for the friend she'd recently contacted to help her on her quest. And if she were to be of any help there was certainly no use in pessimism or self-pity.
Instead she should have counted her lucky stars, for amidst the feeling of great loss she felt over the severed connection between her and those mysterious sources of power, as if she had suddenly lost her place within the universe, came a blessing that could not have come at a better time. She had received a definite reaction towards attempting to divine the boy's general location, the only problem remaining was that it was accompanied a premonition of dread.
Which brought her to the real crux of the issue that was nagging her at the moment. If she were to feel guilty about anything, it should have been that she was, in a sense, leading her friend into a trap, and she knew it. Wherever that boy was something was wrong -- or nearby. Thus, knowing she'd probably need help, she'd kept silent about her newfound knowledge anyway.
Regardless, the fur-clad woman still managed a smile as she listened in for the clank clank clank of her armored friend. Raising a single hand high, she gave a languid wave as she called out to the roleplaying knight, "Hey there! Happy belated New Years! Is that a new set of shiny armor you've got there? And here I thought all the snow might've done a number on it!"
@Alex Marquardt
Last edited: Jan 25, 2018
