The Road Less Traveled [Possible M?]

[DragonSong]

What did she want to do?

She kind of wanted to tell him to go to hells. Seven years this bond had existed, and he only now told her she had any modicum of power in it? She had a hard time believing he hadn't noticed her fear of him, and he'd just...let her be afraid. For his own amusement, seemingly.

Or...wait. Maybe that really wasn't it. Even if he wasn't a god, he wasn't human either. Maybe he really just...didn't think or feel the way she did. Not about things like this.

But he clearly understood solitude. What would millennia of that do to a person--person? Entity? Spirit?

She didn't know.

Mira groaned and dropped her head into her hands. "I hate not knowing."



The fairgrounds were positively thriving as the afternoon dipped toward evening. It was only an hour or so before the show, and Mira was still pacing the small space of her tent. She'd put up an "unavailable" sign in front of her tent so she could think, could come up with some sort of answer to--to literally any of the some dozen problems she seemed to be facing.

She hadn't found any.

"Fuck it." Huffing out a sharp breath, she planted her fists on her hips and glowered at the tent wall. "Tvaldis? Are you here?"

[Kadakism]

Unfortunately for Tvaldis, there was no one in a crisis who needed sage advice from beyond the Veil. There were also no people dying. Real shame, that. Helping people move on when they died was a special kind of job satisfaction that he couldn't really put into words. It was like... a painting of a sunset, but with all the colors one shade lighter than you'd expect.

So he had just wandered, taking small pleasure in the sun on his face and the feeling of wind in his hair. Invisible and unnoticed. He stole an apple from a barrel and a hunk of bread and some cheese. A nice little lunch.

But as the sun started to dip a bit, he felt the words carry on the wind. Mina calling him back. The first time she'd done so willingly, though she had called him plenty of times with her sarcastic remarks in the past.

Mina's incense lit of its own accord, the fragrant smoke wafting and shifting and slowly pulling itself together in Tvaldis' form. He sat in the air, legs crossed with his hands on his knees. He still had a crumb of bread on his cheek. But he wasn't smiling. This was it, what he had been dreading all day.

Tvaldis did not expect for a second that Mina would have anything resembling mercy on him.

"I wasn't. But I am now. I guess you've made your decision?"

[DragonSong]

"Well, you guess wrong," Mira told him cheerfully. She clapped her hands together and whirled on her heel to move toward the small chest of personal items she typically kept tucked into the corner of her tent. A chest she hadn't opened in years. "I have absolutely no fucking idea what to do about you, but you volunteered to help with the show, so guess what? You're helping."

It seemed now that he'd told her that he couldn't truly harm her, a good deal of the reluctant, terrified deference she'd been showing him over the last seven years had abruptly vanished.

Kneeling in front of the chest, she peered back over her shoulder at him consideringly. "Any chance anyone in this part of Serendipity will...y'know, recognize you?"

[Kadakism]

"Of course. I may be a lot of things, but going back on my word would be... beastly," he said, his face returning to his usual fox-like grin. If she could act all at ease, then so could he. Tvaldis picked at a waft of incense smoke, solidifying a traditional Thanati kiseru pipe from it and taking it gingerly between his teeth.

"Not likely. Like I said, it's been a long time since I was out in the world. I can put on some smoke and flash, if that's what you want. I don't even have to make an appearance, so you can have the spotlight."

He floated idly behind her, watching as she leaned over the chest. He hadn't ever really bothered to look inside; he didn't have curiosity the way that mortal did. The chest was just a fixture, a thing he could sit on sometimes when the floor and the cushions and the air got tiresome.

[DragonSong]

"Actually..."

Mira grinned, and the expression was nearly as fox-ish as his own. She sat back from the chest, holding carefully wrapped black fabric in her hands as she leaned back to sit on her heels and twisted to face him.

Lifting a scrap of sheer, lacy black fabric that unfolded itself to reveal what was unmistakably a bridal veil, she chirped, "I think sharing the spotlight will do just fine."

No. That grin wasn't a fox.

She was a wolf.

Placing the pile of fabric--the pitch black wedding dress she'd been stuffed into all those years ago--onto her sleeping mat, she once more turned back to the chest and began rooting around. "Damned grimoire is in here somewhere, I know I... Probably shoved it under everything else...ah-ha!"

She emerged again, this time clutching a thick, clearly very old tome to her chest. The binding appeared to be black leather, soft and supple with age, with what might have once been gold filigreed designs swirled over its surface--though all that was left were the indentations and flecks of shimmering dust.

[Kadakism]

Tvaldis watched curiously as Mira unpacked the chest, his eyes opening slightly as she laid down the dress that she'd worn the night that the ritual to bind him had been performed. He ran his hand along the fabric, quietly reveling in the softness of the fabric for a moment while he continued to watch her.

"That's a scary face you're making, dear. You don't have something awful planned with that book, do you? You're not going to make me... read, are you?"

The mock horror in his voice was apparent as Tvaldis effortlessly slid to a lounging position in the air. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, not quite apprehensive, but curious as to what she had in mind.

[DragonSong]

"Not unless you can read a bastardized version of ancient Adelan written with Hyoitian runes," Mira responded cheerfully.

A few hours ago, she would have assumed he could. Now? Complete toss-up.

She glanced sidelong at him, caught him running his hand over the fabric of the "wedding" dress, and for some reason looked quickly away again. It wasn't like it was really a bridal gown, but... Something about the way he touched things, after what he'd told her, it just--it just struck her in a way that it never had before.

I want this tie gone. She knew that. She wanted the bond cut. But could she really send him back into utter isolation and sensory deprivation to do it?

She still didn't know.

"We're going to play out a little history, husband mine. And see if we can't get some answers."

[Kadakism]

"Nope. Not a lick," he said, lying through his teeth. Of course he could read basically anything. It would be a pain to not be able to communicate with whoever happened to summon him.

Still, she had piqued his interest and Tvaldis landed on his feet next to her, looking over her shoulder like a cat trying to get a bite of food. "So what history are we going to reenact? I'm not used to being the one getting the cryptic treatment. Maybe I'm starting to rub off on you, my lovely wife."

Since they were back to teasing, he would tease. She at least didn't seem as afraid of him anymore. Or at all, actually. That was refreshing.

[DragonSong]

Mira paused, glancing over her shoulder at him once again, calculating. If she believed his words or not, the answer didn't show on her face.

Instead, she replied blithely, "Oh, wouldn't you just love that? Make your mark on the word by spreading your infuriating habits through me." She turned to lay the grimoire--carefully--on the sleeping mat beside the dress, then straightened up to face him properly.

"But, seeing as it would be rude, not to mention rather unhelpful to me, to send you into this completely blind, you get a straight answer. We'll be reenacting some personal history." She jerked her head toward both tome and gown. "Ours, to be precise. Vis has already approved it--The Dark Ceremony apparently has an appropriate ring to it for the show."

[Kadakism]

If Tvaldis had blood, it would have run cold at that moment. The only outward expression he gave was the barest opening of his squinting, mischievous eyes, revealing the milk white blankness behind his lids.

"You want to, what..." he passed right through her like a specter, leaving a distinct feeling that was somehow both warm and chilling. Turning around, Tvaldis rested his chin in his hand and looked Mira in the eyes. "Like renewing our vows? For a crowd? A proper one, I mean. Not the..."

A wave of his hand dismissed the group even as he mentioned them. "Cultists."

"Mira, darling, I never took you for a romantic. But why do you want to perform the ritual again? Or is this you serving me for divorce? Trying to bind me to someone else, maybe?" That would... technically work. He didn't know how he felt about it. On the one hand, it didn't really matter who he was bound to. But at the same time, he grudgingly admitted to himself that he was fond of his current arrangement.

[DragonSong]

Mira gasped when he moved through her, all the breath sucked from her body for an instant. She whirled to face him, glaring, and snapped, "Don't do that."

She took a moment to collect herself, still feel the gooseflesh from his passage all over her body, then shook herself and snipped, "Romantic be damned, but I'll admit the plan is more the former than the latter."

Her eyes flickered toward the grimoire, mismatched gaze flaring for a moment with a hint of magic. "I'm not binding you to a new...host, or however you call it," she muttered. "I won't do that to someone who doesn't know exactly what they're getting into. So." She folded her arms across her chest and looked to him again. "We're going to redo the ritual, exactly as it happened between us the first time." Maybe then I'll be able to figure out what the fuck is actually going on.

She could hope, at least.

"Which means that I'll need as many details from you as possible," Mira finished briskly. "I was, if you'll recall, quite intoxicated at the time. My memory is a little...fuzzy."

[Kadakism]

"Bride," he corrected, his smile falling slightly. He disliked the word host. It made him seem like a parasite. "That's technically the literal translation. But you know how old languages are. What is literal is metaphorical, and so on."

"But fine. I mean, it shouldn't do anything, I wouldn't think? No one has ever done the ritual after we're already bound together."

Solidifying himself, Tvaldis reached out and brushed his hand against Mira's, the one holding onto the book. He looked between it and her face, shaking his head slightly and sighing. What was with this woman?

"It's not a particularly difficult ritual. We'll need candles, of course. And ink made from wood ash. I hope you don't mind getting your face painted a little bit." There were other things they would need too. A ring, preferably not gold, a bouquet of dead flowers scented with perfume, a collection of bones strung on hempen twine. Mostly easy things to get. The cult had always gone way overboard with making each piece of the ritual more elaborate than necessary.

"And of course a black dress," he said, his eyes moving over to the wedding gown she had pulled from the trunk earlier. "You don't have to wear that one. But if I may say, you did look lovely in it."

[DragonSong]

“Memory always does something,” Mira replied quickly. “For all your distain for them, necromancers know that better than most.” From a certain perspective, just about the entirety of her own job dealt with memory. Preserving it, discovering it, healing from it. Bones remembered who they once were, long after flesh and spirit had rotted away.

She glanced up a little warily when Tvaldis touched her hand, unsure why he’d done it. For all his posturing and teasing, he hardly ever seemed to touch her voluntarily.

“Alright, we have a little over an hour to collect everything, which means—“ She stuttered a bit when he said she’d looked “lovey” in the black wedding gown. Gods, she didn’t even remember putting the damn thing on, let alone how she’d actually looked in it...and she’d never considered what her “husband’s” opinion on the matter might be.

“I-I can wear the dress,” she mumbled spontaneously. “I mean...we already have it. Doesn’t make sense to waste time looking for a different one...”

[Kadakism]

Memory always does something. Tvaldis wasn't sure how that sentiment made him feel. Memory was useful when dealing with mortals; they so often were easy to nudge in the right direction with nostalgia. But...

"I can get the ink, flowers, and bones if you want to be getting into the dress." He looked around the tent at all the props meant to make the place look more obviously mystical. Mortals and their appearances. "I think we're probably good on candles."

He assumed at least she wouldn't want him around while she got changed. Whether she knew it or not, Tvaldis had always made a point to leave when she was bathing or getting dressed. He was a cryptic, tricksome jackass but he had something like standards. He could grab the supplies fairly quickly, knowing the camp pretty well from all the times he'd wandered around it aimlessly when he had nothing to do.

[DragonSong]

"I mean, it won't take me a whole hour to change," Mira snorted. "Unless that needs some sort of ceremony too. I can help with getting a few things, at least."

She tapped her foot, lips pursed slightly as she looked around the interior of the tent. "A ring, huh? I can probably borrow one...just not gold, right? Does it matter if it's, y'know...real?" She smiled a little sheepishly. "Like costume jewelry or something? And do we only need one?"

Without so much as a pause for breath she continued, "I can also scrounge up some perfume, I'm pretty sure--do they have to be specific flowers, or any dead flowers will do?"

[Kadakism]

"Nah, no ceremony. And all the particulars are really up to personal preference. Like, I really love Thanati red spider lilies, but those might be in short supply here. No one ever asked me what flowers I wanted though. The cultists always went with some bizarre bouquet with all this ridiculous symbolism thrown in on top of it."

He nodded once, eyeing the book again and then the dress. "I, ah, don't think you'll need any help getting into it though. I was never able to see that part of the preparation. Apparently it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding in some cultures. Or some such nonsense."

Tvaldis headed for the wall of the tent, partially phasing through it before looking back. "Meet you back here then before the show?"

[DragonSong]

Mira gave him a jaunty little mock salute. "Right-o, then. Back here in an hour," she confirmed, already turning her attention back to the current task at hand.

She had a wedding to prepare for.



While Viserian had agreed--with a bit too much delight, in Mira's opinion--to "officiate" this bizarre sham of a ceremony, the necromancer hadn't exactly told the other performers much of what her plan was for this spontaneous slot in the show. Unsurprising, seeing as she didn't really have all that much of a plan.

She had a hunch, but very little plan.

Story of my gods damned life.

Still, her friends were ever accommodating; Flissa managed to give her a bouquet that was actually rather lovely, made of the pressed flowers that the tumbler collected between pages of her journal. She got a ring from a pile of spare props and costumes--a cheap thing of mock-sylverite, but she didn't really think that mattered for the purposes of what she had in mind.

Perfume was surprisingly difficult to come by. So much so that, an hour later at the agreed time to meet back up with Tvaldis, Mira had only just managed to get back to the tent and was hurriedly throwing on the gown.

"Mother...sunnova...can't with the...stupid...clasps!" she growled to herself, twisting in place as she tried in vein to properly dress herself. Yeah. While she still had no memory of the night her bond with Tvaldis was formed, she was now at least fairly convinced that someone had helped dress her. There was no way a humanoid could perform such a feat alone.

Her grimoire had been left open on the sleeping mat, displaying two pages' worth of diagrams and notes. Some of them appeared to have been cut from other tomes, secured in place with magic, while others were clearly Mira's own writing: the bastardized form of ancient Adelan that she had mentioned earlier, as she had always been taught that a grimoire should at least be slightly encoded.

It wasn't entirely clear what the spell outlined, but a few phrases seemed to stand out; namely, "memory-trace" and "spoken in the bone".

The word "bone" was interesting: she'd chosen a particular turn of phrase that did not necessarily imply that the word was literal, yet still clung to the connotation of death and revival that was associated with necromantic magic. 

[Kadakism]

Ink had been easy. A stolen... or rather borrowed clay jar, some water, and the ashes from several fires scattered around the camp. Mixed together until thicker than water but not quite a paste. The cooking fires also primarily provided the bones that he needed to make the necklace. Tvaldis never understood why so many people threw away perfectly good bones. The stock that could be made from them alone was more than worth the trouble of saving them up...

He had taken a long minute to pause at that thought, wondering where such a strange musing had come from. Time had passed more quickly than he'd intended, and so Tvaldis found himself rushing to finish getting his part of the supplies.

He couldn't phase through the wall while he carried the things he had gathered, and found himself walking through the flap at the front of the tent and immediately looking away. Mira was half-dressed, trying desperately to get the dress clasped together on her own. A task that was apparently not going to happen.

"Do you, ah, need any help?"

He asked the question, but Tvaldis was already moving to set down the ink and other ritual objects and sliding up behind her so that he could take the clasps from her hands. "Looks like you've gotten everything else. We might even have some time to actually practice before we have to go on stage. Let me just..."

He was very careful, doing his best to not touch her incidentally as he worked with the dress to get the clasps and laces and fittings in place. It was a surprisingly easy task for him, done with something like muscle memory though he had never actually done this part of the ritual. Hard to do when you were stuck in a box with no light or sound.

[DragonSong]

"Ack!"

Mira spun in place, remembered that she was holding up the front of her bodice with luck and prayer, and quickly turned to put her back to him again, just a little flustered. "Er...maybe. A little. I don't understand why anyone would make a dress that you can't get into by yourself, but..."

She shrugged, then stilled as she felt him come up behind her and work deftly at the clasps. Once properly fastened, the bodice hugged her figure quite tightly--not so tight as the boned corsets she'd had to wear growing up, but still tight enough to make breathing a might uncomfortable.

"Right. Practice." She tried to focus on what he was saying rather than the surrealism of the situation. "I know you've done this a couple of times--" How many Brides did he have, actually? Wait, no, not the time. "But I still don't remember much beyond wine and, ah...kissing. Quite a few people, actually."

She cleared her throat, a faint flush rising to her cheeks as she finally turned around. She didn't have a full length mirror, so she had no idea how the dress actually looked; she felt the bodice clinging tight to her form, haphazard sleeves falling down her shoulders and trailing ebony lace against her sides. The skirts were many layers of nearly sheer black fabric or intricate lace that swayed gently with every movement, tickling her skin.

She huffed and frowned down at herself. "...This thing feels ridiculous."

[Kadakism]

"Well, for me it always begins with the, ah I guess you'd call them the officiant. Reading a passage that opens the box for me. But I recall that the kissing was sort of a - well, to put it grimly a farewell. I imagine they always thought I'd like, slowly suck your soul out or something. Silly presumptions, honestly. Maybe that was why all the hedonistic partying? But if that was the case -"

Tvaldis stopped his rambling when Mira turned around and faced him again with the dress properly on. He didn't have blood to blush, but he could fake it well enough. And he did, involuntarily, the color in his cheeks darkening just so. "Ridiculous as it is, you do look lovely in it."

Holding out his hand to her, Tvaldis distracted himself with the process they would go through.

"You could always have your circus friends hug and pat your shoulders for that part if you aren't keen on kissing any of them. I completely understand why, some of them are a bit rough to look at," he joked, grinning as he did.

"You'll be led into the center of the ritual, where the officiant will open the box and let me out. I usually make a big show of that, since it makes it more likely that someone will, you know, keep the ritual around and do it again in the future." Rather than let him just go back into the box and stay there forever. Tvaldis practically shuddered at the unspoken thought.

"The candles go out and then re-light one by one as the ritual continues. Blah blah blah, the officiant talks for a while. You're given the necklace and I'm given the ring. We hold the bouquet together and our faces are painted with the ink. And then-"

Tvaldis paused, opening and closing his mouth a bit and then pursing his lips as he considered how he wanted to continue. "Well, we're supposed to kiss as well, but I think a hug would suffice for these purposes. It's a show, you know? We'll skip the burying alive part as well. That's never pleasant for anyone."

Tvaldis gave a small pause, waiting for what he assumed would be a horrified reaction from Mira. "I'm joking. Joking. You weren't buried alive. I made sure they struck that from the ritual after the first time they did it. Crazy bastards."