errenis | for blumenthal

When Yussa begins to move forward again with determination, Caleb falls in behind him, remaining close. He stops when Yussa does, allowing him to take his time. He knows what it's like to be forcibly reminded of horrifying experiences.

The compulsion is there to reach out and touch Yussa, to lay a hand against him reassuringly, but he ignores it for now. Perhaps that also would be too reminiscent of that time. He remembers so clearly reaching his hands inside Yussa's faintly transparent form, touching the very essence of him--his mind, his soul, whatever essential piece of him had been captured by the city's consuming madness--and banishing him back to the prime material plane. To himself.

They haven't talked about it. They don't have to. Caleb would never ask that. Yussa is so strong, but he must have been shaken to his core. Even with all the two of them have shared since, how they have grown so much closer, it would take a great deal of trust on Yussa's part. Perhaps even more than he's given him already.

They continue walking. Caleb says little, because Yussa doesn't seem in the mood for conversation. Eventually it comes to an end. The gate on the other side grows closer, looms, and finally they pass through it.

Caleb winces, blinking rapidly against the brightness of the next room. But it is only harsh compared to where they have come from. This space is bathed in what seems like natural midday sunlight. It's a wide circular chamber that stretches up at least three floors, though they are a continuous upward ramp, like a spiral. Judging by the paintings hanging framed on the walls, this is a gallery.

Yussa follows Caleb through the door and immediately puts his arm up, trying to block the bright light to give his eyes time to adjust. After walking through the Astral Sea - or an approximation of it - the sunlight is welcome. Slowly, he lowers his arm. He backs up to the nearest wall, strangely grateful that there is a wall, and for a moment he lets himself lean against it.

He would rather not do this in front of Caleb, but of all the people living in this world, perhaps Caleb Widogast is the one who would nearest understand. He takes a shivering breath and tries to control the exhale. Without saying a word, Yussa crouches down, knees to his chest and hands folded over the back of his neck, keeping his head down as he breathes. It will pass. This moment will pass. It is inconvenient, at best.

At worst, it is a slippery slope into memories he's grappled with since Caleb freed him. Yussa's hands move, sliding to cover his ears even if he knows the screams he can hear are in his head. This will pass.

Watching Yussa put his back to the closest wall and then slide down it, folding in on himself, stirs a powerful blend of emotions in Caleb. Affection and empathy, and a protective urge that seems almost ridiculous, but it isn't. Why shouldn't he want to protect his friend from harm, no matter Yussa's own capabilities?

Caleb follows, kneeling in front of Yussa's crouched form, which seems even smaller now. He places warm, gentle hands on his knees and lets his thumbs rub in slow, soothing circles.

"You aren't alone," he says, quiet but firm. "I am with you, Yussa. You are safe." As safe as it is possible to be in the Folding Halls, at least. "Do you want me to come closer, or stay right here?"

He does not flinch. Caleb's touch is intimately familiar and Yussa has felt him in ways few others likely have. He has not forgotten the feel of this man's fingers brushing through his very essence before banishing him back to the material plane.

Yussa keeps breathing, aware that Caleb has joined him even before warm hands rest on his knees. He focuses on the motion of his thumbs, the gentle pressure, the familiar presence, the sound of Caleb's voice. He breathes.

"Stay," he says quietly. He might like Caleb closer in a moment, but for now this is what he needs. Eventually, one hand moves to rest over Caleb's, not stopping him, but inviting another point of contact.

"To feel so much anxiety over a place of dreams and potential is--" Even with more than two centuries of life to draw on, Yussa isn't sure what to call it. He lifts his head, meeting Caleb's gaze. "I have faced many things, but that was... unique."

Caleb gives a soft hum in acknowledgement, and doesn't stop the slow, soothing movement of his thumbs even when Yussa's hand comes to rest over his. Uncovering his ears is a good thing. So is talking, and looking at him.

"But it is not the Astral plane itself that is the problem, ja?" he murmurs. "It is difficult to describe the sheer horror of what we faced there. Cognouza was...well, you know. It was corrupted to the point where applying logic or sense was futile. It could not be understood. Like a nightmare."

Ducking his head down, Caleb brushes his lips in a light kiss against the back of Yussa's knuckles. "No one could blame you for being anxious or unsettled by reminders of what you experienced. Least of all me."

"Even nightmares have... something," he murmurs. "Cognouza had a will of its own but that will had gone mad. And it pulled things into it. Minds held captive and all sense of predictable reality ripped away. Bound in one, eternal maelstrom of torment."

Yussa bows his head again, rests his brow against his knee as Caleb's lips brush his hand.

"And for time unknown to me, I was part of it."

Upon returning to the Material Plane, Yussa understood it had been a matter of days: long for an astral projection and while he'd been in the Astral Sea, the passage of time dragged out. Perhaps it had only been days, but it felt far longer. In a place where willpower made things real, Yussa's own intellectual strength and force of will meant nothing once Cognouza fully had hold of him, all of that meant nothing. Once his mind, his essence, had been compromised and started to unravel, there was no getting free.

"Like all memory, it will shift as the event gets further away." But, for now, it's still relatively fresh in his mind.

"It will," Caleb agrees, even if he can't quite say the same. For him, many things do fade eventually, just not as quickly as for most people. But the things he remembers regularly, the things his mind can't help but cycle back to--those moments are still far too clear.

He remembers the red eyes dotting his body, and is grateful yet again he'd never been fully ensnared in Cognouza's net. The kind of primal fear and helplessness and emptiness and depersonalization that Yussa must have experienced while linked to that twisted collective consciousness--it is quite literally incomprehensible.

"I cannot imagine what it was like," he says, brow furrowing. "You are strong, my friend, to have survived and made your mind your own again. I am so glad that you are here with me."

There is a part of him that would like to curl up against Caleb and stay there for a while. But he cannot bring himself to do that here, and certainly not right now. He can't decide if it is easier or harder that Caleb has some inkling of where he was and what happened. If his understanding makes seeking comfort more difficult for Yussa.

It doesn't matter right this moment. He reaches to stroke his fingers over Caleb's cheek in a small show of affection.

"We should continue," he murmurs. He squeezes Caleb's hand, then slowly pulls away so that he can stand up. Whatever he feels or whatever has welled up in him, they cannot stop here. There is more yet to discover, and he would like to find somewhere safe to rest either ahead or ensure they have a route back to the guest suites.

Yussa waits until Caleb is standing, then gently grips the other man's shirt to get his attention and hold him still.

"Thank you."

He leans up to give Caleb a kiss, brief but warm, then pulls away to continue into the space they've found.

When Yussa decides that he wants to move on, Caleb gives him the space to stand again and reorient himself. He's right. They shouldn't linger in an unfamiliar room before they've examined it. Though it doesn't seem dangerous, that means virtually nothing here. Something could change at any moment.

Caleb gets up too, but Yussa stops him before he can move away. His gratitude strikes a familiar fond chord in Caleb, which only resonates more as the elf leans up to kiss him. They meet partway as Caleb leans down, and though it lasts only a moment, the warmth lingers.

With a smile so soft it is mostly in his eyes, Caleb trails after as Yussa begins to take in the room around them.

"I do not know anything about art," he says, "but it is exciting to think that all of these pieces are pre-Calamity." There must be plenty to learn from the images depicted. This is a wealth of cultural knowledge, at the very least. And knowing Halas, that probably isn't all it is.

"I know a lot about art," Yussa muses as they both take in the gallery. "And I am intrigued to see what Halas has collected. I have to wonder if some of these are commissioned specifically for this place, or which have been collected. I suspect a number are enchanted."

He folds his hands behind his back once more as he gets closer to one of the landscapes. He considers a moment, then casts Detect Magic. Might as well see what they're dealing with.

The number of paintings just within his radius that light up is... not surprising. It's not quite as many as Yussa first suspected.

At least one of them does. Caleb follows the movement of Yussa's hand as it flicks casually through familiar somatics.

"What are you seeing?" he asks. He suspects quite a few must be enchanted--and at least some of them trapped. "We should steer clear of any with an evocation or conjuration signature." He'd rather not be caught unprepared when one of these portraits shoots a fireball out of its eyes, or something worse.

The two of them begin to make their way up. Rather than stairs, the floors are connected by ramps with a slow, easy incline. As opposed to being evenly spaced, the paintings are in groups on the walls. Possibly organized by subject, artist, or date Caleb would guess, but he can't know for certain without looking more closely.

"Several of the paintings in our immediate area lit up," he remarks. "I'm seeing conjuration and illusion mostly."

Yussa wouldn't be surprised if there were more dangerous magics embedded into some of these paintings, but there are fewer than he anticipated.

"Perhaps, given that this is off the Diamond Entrance, it was a space meant for other people to see," he muses as he walks with Caleb. "Gateways might be protected, but there might well be fewer traps, as well."

A gallery like this is meant to be seen, and if they take the Diamond Entrance as the main entrance, it's entirely possible - and likely - that Halas hosted other people here. Yussa leaves the ramp to look at a collection of portraits and he makes it a point to look very unimpressed when he recognizes a few of Halas himself.

"Illusion? Interesting. We should have a closer look at those." Caleb is incredibly curious aobut whehter the illusions are meant to conceal something, or if they're more for visual effect, a blending of arcane and mundane art. As Yussa says, this space, accessed through the impressive Astral Sea corridor, seems meant to be viewed.

Yussa's mildly sour expression as he gazes up at a cluster of portraits brings a wider smile to Caleb's lips. "Our man Halas looks a little younger here than the one in his study," he muses. "Same sense of fashion, though. Zemnian wizards have not updated our style in several ages, it seems. This red robe ensemble would not be out of place anywhere in Rexxentrum today."

He winks as he shares the joke with Yussa, a wizard who clearly has opinions on style, for which Caleb is exceedingly thankful. Even in his far more simplified adventuring attire, Yussa is a vision of seemingly effortless elegance.

"It's one thing to be timeless, another to be badly ostentatious," he says as he examines the portrait. He finds some of the accessories gaudy, likely meant to show off wealth but drawing attention in the wrong ways. Yussa's own style is absolutely elaborate, but he likes to think the impact is far better than this. There is no elegance here, no sense of aesthetic.

And perhaps his opinion is colored by his distaste for the man in general. While he is impressed with the Folding Halls and all that Halas accomplished here, he has seen things that make even his moral compass move.

Yussa looks over at Caleb and a flicker of a smile flashes across his mouth.

"I much prefer your style to his. You clean up well." Caleb may prefer simple styles, but he wears them well and he has a charm that Halas utterly lacks. Yussa continues on this floor, walking slowly to take in each work as he would in any other gallery. They pass a grouping of paintings of various animals, many of them in motion. One of the illusion spells still at work.

Yussa isn't entirely sure what he's looking for, but he feels he'll know it when he sees it.

Caleb will gladly take that compliment. In fact, his heart does that little leaping pitter-patter when Yussa smiles and tells him he cleans up well. Gods, what even a little praise from this man does to him.

Some of his curiosity is sated as they continue. Many of the paintings with a magical aura are obvious; as Caleb had suspected, the effects of the illusions work in tandem with the art. Caleb thinks this effect is best utilized in landscapes, in a subtle sway of trees in an intangible breeze, or scenes with a wide focus. He particularly likes one of a colorful marketplace with figures moving through it on a timed cycle. It's clever.

He's a little less of a fan of the oddly pornographic piece depicting a nude woman laying on a sandy beach in shallow water apparently being lovingly embraced by some sort of betentacled sea monster. Honestly, the sea monster isn't the problem here; it's the woman's strange proportions, just off enough to be unsettling, and how he can't stop himself from wincing at the idea of sand in tender places.

It's as he's tearing his eyes away from this piece with a grimace that Caleb realizes something he should have clocked a while ago: there don't appear to be any other doors in this chamber. By all appearances, the door they entered through is also the only exit.

"Either this is a dead end, or our way out is hidden," he says, turning a fresh eye on the room with this in mind.

Yussa cocks his head at the pornographic painting, trying to decide why it troubles him. Hardly the subject matter. Maybe it really is the thought of sand in awkward places. Or worse, the thought of Halas standing here ages ago and looking at this same thing. He doesn't look away until Caleb speaks, and when he does it's to look around the gallery.

"My theory is that some of these paintings are doorways. I think we will find very few dead ends here." He won't say none, because there is far too much left to map before he can make any definitive statements. But he would be surprised.

"Let's try the next level up."

He heads back toward the ramp, moving to the next floor. They are greeted by a series of strange landscapes. Yussa feels drawn to them and an almost fond look flickers across his face.

"I think these are depicting the Feywild," he says, turning his head toward Caleb as the other man joins him. After walking through the Astral Sea - even with a barrier - it's nice to see something that feels less.. hostile. At least, it does to him.

Of course. If Yussa's theory is correct--and Caleb suspects it is immediately upon hearing--then this room could potentially lead to half a dozen others or more, depending on how Halas has anchored these portals. Caleb looks on with even more interest, especially at pieces depicting landscapes or rooms without people.

He's glad he doesn't miss Yussa's expression as they reach the next level and find a cluster of landscapes depicting similar but distinctly odd environments. After his anxiety earlier, it's nice to see him so pleased and excited by something.

"Ah. It is as strange and beautiful as I imagined," Caleb says, looking away from the curling leaves of unfamiliar plants and down at Yussa. "I have never seen it myself. Only heard about it secondhand."

From an archfey, no less, but still. Artagan had described the place as utterly boring when he could be cajoled to talk about it at all, but that could hardly be true of any realm responsible for a being like Jester's best friend.

"Have you visited before?"

"Oh, yes. A long time ago now, but I have spent time there. It is an echo of the Material Plane." Caleb probably knows that, but Yussa finds himself saying it anyway, nearly falling into lecture mode. "It's geography is similar to that of Exandria, but also in constant flux. There is no way to truly map it onto the Material Plane. I have seen breath-taking natural beauty on this plane, but in the Feywild it is... more. Everything is more. Landscapes can be more majestic, but also more extreme."

Yussa moves closer, studying the different scenes. Some of the paintings feature the illusion that creates movement, others are still. He shifts toward a large painting, taller than he is, depicting a forest clearing with dancing lights.

His Detect Magic is still up, though not for much longer, and Yussa examines what is in front of him.

"There's more than illusion here," he says to Caleb.

Though Caleb is familiar with the facts as Yussa presents them, they're far more interesting coming from him than the pages of a book. His personal experiences leave Caleb feeling intrigued and curious, which doubles when Yussa observes that the largest painting of the set--large enough to walk through, notably--has a more complex arcane signature.

"This must be it, exactly as you were saying," Caleb enthuses, looking from the painting--the doorway--to Yussa with visible eagerness. He lays a hand on his friend's thin shoulder, looking closer himself as though he could see through the magic with his eyes alone. Would it really bring them to that clearing? To the Feywild, or some approximation of it? "There should be a key to activate it. Something within the painting itself, maybe?"

He scans the canvas for anything out of the ordinary--a different texture or color, a stray flower, a pattern in the way the dancing lights bob through the air.

A key, right. Yussa examines the painting, recalling the stained glass in the study. He gets briefly distracted by the dancing lights as they move. There is a pattern, natural like fireflies, but it is not one that seems to mean anything. He shakes it off and looks up as Caleb's hand reaches for a cluster of flowers in the immediate foreground of the painting. He hadn't noticed them before but clearly Caleb had.

"Try those," he encourages. Worst comes, nothing happens. Well, if it's truly the worst then it'll trigger some sort of trap, but he truly does not think they'll find quite as much that here. He feels a shiver of anticipation and swears it echoes in a ripple over the painting when Caleb touches the flowers.

There's a breeze that comes from the painting and the sudden scent of foreign flowers. Where once he could only see the movement in the trees, now he can hear the leaves fluttering in the wind. He gives Caleb an approving smile and gestures toward the painting.

"I charged in last time. After you."

Caleb smiles back, triumphant and near giddy as the gentle breeze ruffles his hair. To him, this is the most exciting new space they've discovered in some time.

"Come with me," he decides, and takes Yussa's hand in his as he takes a careful stride forward, opposite hand extended like he still fears he might meet a wall. He doesn't. His boots touch down on grass and soft earth. With their hands linked, Yussa is only a half step behind him.

The change in atmosphere is immediate. The air is warm like early summer, thick and humid, heavy with the cloying sweet smell of a variety of night-blooming flowers he doesn't recognize and the more pungent scent of loamy soil. It is also charged in a way that Caleb has never quite experienced before, different from the hum of potential in the Astral Sea. The sound of the wind rustling leaves is crisp. The soft, warm glow from the lights drifting overhead is just enough to illuminate the clearing, plants and trees casting shadows that seem to dance as they move, and even in the dark the colors are bright and vibrant. Everything feels so alive. Caleb licks his lips, and the air even tastes different.

He turns to Yussa and momentarily finds himself at a loss. He was beautiful a moment ago, as he always is, but here--it must be something about the light playing through his pale hair and against his brown skin, catching on his gold eyes, because just looking at him takes his breath away.

"This is incredible," he manages, just above a whisper. Somehow it feels wrong to speak much louder. "Is this--does it feel the way you remember?"

He thinks he knows the answer already. Everything is more, Yussa said, and Caleb understands now.

Yussa follows Caleb in without hesitating.

The change is almost welcome after the cool, dry air of the halls, especially when Yussa has been living on the coast for most of his life. He closes his eyes for a moment, denying himself sight only to take in all the other things. The breeze is welcome, breaking up the humidity, and after a few seconds more, Yussa opens his eyes again to find Caleb looking at him. He cannot help a small smile at the expression on the younger man's face.

Caleb's reaction to seeing this place, to experiencing it, is worth whatever trouble they might run into.

"It is," he agrees, his own voice relatively quiet. "And it does."

Yussa releases Caleb's hand, allowing their fingers to brush before fully parting, so that he can move further into the space. He is not entirely certain that it is the true Feywild, suspecting that there might be boundaries of some kind. But he would believe that it is a piece of that place captured here, connected to it still. It feels the same, but the Feywild is dangerous and he imagines that Halas would prefer to have some control over this. Still, it awakens old memories.

He looks over his shoulder at the human man standing by the gateway. It does not disappear so much as fade, and it's possible they'll have to activate it again somehow to get out. He isn't overly worried about that now.

Edited 2022-02-13 19:27 (UTC)

Without hesitation, Caleb follows, leaving the receding gateway behind him. "It is probably similar to the dreadnought chamber--a part of that plane accessible here, but limited in scope," he reasons aloud. The trees around them make it impossible to see how large this chamber is, but the garden is massive, and this could be at least that size.

Whatever the case, Caleb is elated to be seeing and experiencing what is quite literally a world entirely new to him. That he has Yussa to guide him seems entirely fitting.

"I'll admit I was not really prepared for exploration of this sort," he says, smiling still. "But knowing Halas, there is probably some arcane mystery here to be uncovered." He nods his head toward the spot the gate has all but disappeared. "I will remember how to get back here if we need to, so we can look around as much as we like."

He thinks he hears running water nearby, like a small brook or stream. And while he knows the Feywild is a dangerous and deceptive place, that is true of the entirety of the Folding Halls. So long as they are careful, they will be all right.

"Hopefully the landscape contained here is not as mercurial as the Feywild itself," he says. He makes sure to stay within sight of Caleb as he heads toward the running water. Lights dance overhead and in the trees and there is something rather romantic about it, if one forgets the dangers. Yussa cannot deny the allure of this particular plane, which is part of what makes it dangerous. Even he finds himself longing to be caught up in the raw energy here.

Still. He has experience in the Feywild and they are both wizards of considerable talent. Which reminds him.

"Part of that energy you feel is arcane energy," he warns. "And therefore arcane spells are amplified here, sometimes considerably, either in power or duration. Sometimes both."

He pauses, then adds, "And there is the chance that the spell will manifest in a way you aren't expecting or anticipating."

"That is very interesting." Honestly, it only makes him want to try casting here even more, just for the experience. Just to see what happens. "And explains why Halas would wish to keep such a chamber. It must be valuable for experimentation."

The source of the sound is not far into the trees, discovered when they walk in that direction. It is a shallow stream, the water clear enough to see they smooth grey stones beneath. A thick, soft moss grows on many of the rocks along the water's edge, some large enough to be considered boulders, half Caleb's height at least. Caleb suggests that they walk along the stream a ways to see what they find, and they do.

"In Aeor, casting spells above a certain threshold of power is a risk, as it sometimes causes a surge of wild magic," he's musing as they walk, following just a step or two behind Yussa. While he is deeply intrigued by the arcane possibilities of this realm, he realizes as the minutes pass that he is becoming increasingly distracted. His gaze lingers on Yussa, the exposed dip of his neck into his shoulder, the way his sash emphasizes his narrow waist, the curve of his ass in his close-fitting trousers, the way he moves as he nimbly picks his way through the brush in his heeled boots.

Caleb swallows hard and directs his attention over Yussa's head. Not the time.

But it isn't only that. He feels his skin growing hot before long, a flush that spreads through his body, and even his meager few layers are becoming oppressive. Sweat is beginning to break out along the back of his neck.

"Is it getting warmer?" he asks aloud, sure this can't be just him.

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