2024-03-13 Walking On The Moon - Henri
Apr 13, 2024 23:00:34 GMT
Jaezred Vandree, Orianna Èirigh, and 1 more like this
Post by Henri Fitzroy on Apr 13, 2024 23:00:34 GMT
Atop the desk in the Four Fair Winds lies a sheet of parchment, a quill, an ink pot, and a palm-sized, glittering ruby. Henri reaches out, his hand briefly hovering over the ruby, before grasping the quill.
Henri Fitzroy
The Four Fair Winds
Castleside
Daring Heights
Kantas
The Four Fair Winds
Castleside
Daring Heights
Kantas
11 Ches 1501
Lord Fitzroy
Fitzroy Manor
The North Wards
Waterdeep
Faerûn
Fitzroy Manor
The North Wards
Waterdeep
Faerûn
Father,
I write to you tonight both with good and bad news. As I know you prefer the bitter before the sweet, let me be brief with what we have discovered:
The Primordials have succeeded in creating a Door to the Beyond, and are inching closer to their moment of victory. The Door is magnificent, to give them credit where it is due, though they have replaced the white marble with black, and the silver with gold. I am, personally, partial to the classics, but who am I to judge.
Luckily, they will need a demi-god's worth of magic to open it, though there seems to be no shortage of such figures in these lands.
And now, on to the good news.
The first is that Andromeda has recovered nicely since her ordeal over a year ago. She has regrown most of herself, and only a few fingers remain to regenerate now. I am afraid, however, that her misery was far worse than we knew. The phrase "chopped up" was thrown around.
I am sure that you can fill in the blanks. It would appear that a piece of an Infinite was a component of the spell to create the above Door.
The second is that it would seem our bloodline is nobler than we once thought. Not to diminish your accomplishments, Father, but it would seem we were always destined for some form of greatness.
Please do sit down.
I have been named Herald of The Great Seer, The Gemstone Prophet, Throdrazz the Garnet Dragon.
Yes, I know.
Yours,
Henri
Henri flicks his hand, and the quill floats back onto the desk, finding its home next to the ink bottle that begins to close itself up. He carefully picks up the parchment and begins to fold it, and as he begins to address the front, he is interrupted by a knock on the door.
Alone once more, Henri drifts amongst dreams.
He chokes on smoke and gazes out towards the ruins that the Primordials have made their base of operations.
He raises an eyebrow at the question of why they might leave pieces of Andromeda lying around.
He hears himself say that it would take a certain kind of arrogance to leave such important things lying around at home.
He isn't sure why he said it, even now, in dreams. He's aloof, smug, sure, but rarely cruel.
And rarely cruel towards her, as she grows dragon's wings and flies away.
He stands with Pantos amongst smoke and smog, watching as Orianna and Lolli inspect the Door, and the Primordials: Magdara, Glastor, Cendis, Oria, and now Arcravine.
He listens as Pantos explains that the Upper Management of the Staircase, the Head, the highest of us, will not intervene. Not unless the Primordials give them reason to. For that same reason, Pantos cannot banish this Door. The Staircase does not will it, and so it will not be.
He asks what the roles of the Upper Management is, his voice echoing through the dream. The Architect, The Caretaker, The Matriarch. They give the orders. The Matriarch brings the other Infinite in. The other two have none.
He asks if this has happened before. Not here, but in other realities. Yes. And sometimes they succeed, and sometimes they do not.
He asks why he is here.
He asks why he is always on the fringes.
He asks why he cannot be wanted here, like the others.
Maybe if you stopped being so arrogant, you would realize they already do, comes the answer.
He's standing in Andromeda's office, holding the puzzle cube that she has been unable to open for an eon and that he has been able to open with just a touch.
He's holding the ruby eye, the eye that seems to see him across time and space.
He's holding the note that addresses him by name.
He's standing in the Dawn Market, turned around by someone bumping into his arm.
He's seeing their red hair, and their knowing smile.
He's hearing the words as soon as they are spoken.
"Apologies my Herald. I'll watch my step next time."
He's turning to Orianna, his eyes wide, his smile wider.
He looks for the recognition that, finally, he is a part of this family.
He sees it.
And it looks the same as it always has.
