RP:While You Were Sleeping

Synopsis: What started off as the potential for a good day is interrupted. Illisaria, the witch of the reach, makes her presence known - sending enchanted, mindless Rosfjorian dire wolves after Sabrina and Eirik. Their intent? Destroy Eiriks happiness and prevent him from stopping Sabrinas death. Much to the wretched witches dismay, something new springs forth, power from his sword which has never been tapped into. Now if only he could learn to control it. Beyond this, two of the dires, bow in submission. For now, it looks like he is stuck with two fury friends. Things were getting weird.

Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere in Frostmaw

Suddenly he found himself here, but it feels like he’d been here all along. Soft ribbons of light blind the edges but he would feel no sting. She is laughing with him, leading him. Her hand extends. ((C’mon, its time to get up. They’re all coming.)) A flash of dreadful screams invades his vision, it almost looks like war; foggy and glum. It’s just that momentary pause before she is with him again, sitting atop his form and smiling down at him with tender touches to his face and neck. She looks across to her right, forcing his eyes to follow. They are in a meadow, the peak if spring breeze brushes against her hair and her eyes close to it. So serene, so beautiful. She looks down at him, readying for a kiss. ((I love you.)) She is so warm and inviting but the flicker of ominous darkness runs like static for several meaningless breaks in time. She is sitting upon him still, her face bloody, but still smiling. ((Get up, get up! We’re going to be late.)) And her softness returns. Her mouth is moving but he can’t make out the words. (((Eirik))) She kisses him softly. ((( Eirik! )))

Sabrina shrieks. “EIRIK!” He should snap awake to focus in time to see Sabrina towed from the tent, wearing not but his button down shirt and stark black panties as her slight frame is drawn under the leaf of the tent and out into the bitter cold. She had dragged her fingers down the length of his leg, and when a small gust lifts he’d see the crimson red eyes of a Rosjforian Dire wolf, teeth wrapped around her leg, and a final jerk of her body pulls her from his view, behind the curtain of leather and canvas. She screams terribly, her voice wandering to the distance and a scrimmage alights upon his ears. The laughs of Illisaria cascade like distant thunder over the external landscape. Outside the small tent he would open his eyes to a pack, maybe thirteen silver and black Dires that were reminiscent to that of his homeland. Every glance he can steal is of those same possessed eyes that would soon find their way to him. Several yards out Sabrina is struggling, swinging her fists and pushing with legs that had been torn from the icy ground during her abduction from the warmth of his arms. There are bites and scratches all along her body and that leg had been exposed and shredded from the back of her calf to the heal of bare foot. As if sensing his threat al but two converge on him, leaving his elfess to battle the remainder as she is drawn across the ground at her back, kicking and clawing to get free. She is no match, her touch is doing no good. Gods be damned she wore those bangles, the glint against the dreary morning light proved it to be so. She almost has one off, but the second of the silver pair had grabbed hold of her arm, the first clamped firmly over her shoulder, casting her head to the side as they begin their little game of tug-o-war with her fragile build.

Those dreams, the meadow; a place of peace where Eirik had found himself in often. A testament to his own inner desire, though perhaps aided by the ardents touch, whether bangled or not. As such, waking from a dream which his mind so desperately clung to is a difficult thing indeed. Eyes shift open, panicking - darting from where Sabrina should be, to the voice he could hear screaming as she is dragged out of the tent. Sleepiness or anything which might keep him down, counteracted by the sudden onslaught of adrenaline and rage coursing through his system. Brann Forbruker is snatched up in an instant, knuckles cracking under the grip he forced upon its hilt. "Sabrina!" Bellowing her name as he scrambled to his feet and darted out of the tent. Barefoot, the snow freezing, aiding his grounding in reality. This isn't some dream. That damned cackle of a laugh is truly Illisaria. What the hell is going on? Runic blade is drawn, wooden sheath flipped over in his left hand to be used as a make-shift weapon. Silver orbs switch, brown flecked golden hues replacing the color. The Northman enraged in an instant, his own howl a testament to what he is so very close to becoming. Eirik sidesteps the first lunge, screaming that famous activation word. The flaming sword scything through the gaping maw of the first Dire Wolf and rendering the top half of its head an open husk of brain matter, fluids and crimson red. Wooden sheath becomes a battering ram and brings blunt force trauma to the nape of the neck on another wolf. Yiping ensues from the effort. "Sabrina!" He yells again, still trying to weave his way through the entire group. 'Why in the hell would Illisaria send these creatures after him here?'

His happiness. The witch would not send him and not track his happiness. This woman was deflecting his punishment, and she simly couldn't have that. Sabrina screams his name across the thick fog, being drawn nearly out of sight but the smell of her blood weighed in with the dense air. There is struggle beyind what he can see, and his enemies perfectly placed to keep him from the task at hand. The elfess was fighting, sure enough, several paces from where Eirik stood he would catch the glimmer of the first bangle melting its shape into the snow. The trail of blood stains the scene, she had lost so much already. Four calculated attacks come upon Eirik, an effort to stay him so he could be witness, helpless to those cries that only got further and further away. And they were cries now, not just panicked screams, getting weaker not by distance but by Sabrina's inability to shuck that last adornment. There was pain, gurgled in her throat as the pierce of Dire fang latches on and anchors in her chest and throat. She is shaken, terribly, while the other yanks forcably from the elbow and hence she can not even get to that runed entrapment.

Those screams, the crying, the scene. It was all too much, Eirik turns sinister, filling with murderous intent. He is beyond rage, beyond the concept of anger. Such thoughts are trivial, childish things in comparison of how he suddenly felt. The world slowed in minds eye, dulled by something he couldn't fathom; yet drove him into a complete trance. The flames of his fabled weapon die, with a resounding hiss; like water hitting a fire. Sabs is dead or so he believed. He'd slaughter them all. The northman leaps into action, and though unknown to him while that blade raised into the air over his form. The runes hissed to life again, a bright white light, marking something that he himself had no control of. As blade screams down to claim the life of another, it misses its mark and instead smashes into the ground. This, changes the entire fight, and yet a complete accident. 'Boom' the runic magic withing in the weapon releasing the sudden swell of magic bottled within. A concussive blast of heat and fire sweeps out from the tip, sending flames, sparks and molten ground in nearly every direction. Eirik unaware of what happens, is also, rocked back by the shocking force. Fiery assault kissing parts of his frame, burning the parts it touches. The wolves themselves, find fur lighting; burning the flammable material without hesitation. Eirik finds himself almost screaming in agony, but that emotion swelling from within forces him to be a veritable juggernaut. He rises, and takes steps forward, slow at first, but shift into a panic as he chases after Sabrina. The pack, despite their enchantments now run in fear of flames licking their own flesh. Before any more harm could come to Sabrina, he finds wolves devouring her form, maybe she still lives? In a panic Eirik dives at her, sword falling near her form, and hands unclasp that last bangle. However, the dires have switched their target, and Eirik cries out in pain, teeth digging into his own calf as he is helplessly dragged off - last bangle in hand. "No!" his last word as the shifts announces itself, snarling and snapping bone to arrive on the scene. A deep, deathly howl of a hybrid ensues and now they had something else to deal with. Clawed hand swipes at the wolf dragging him, yanking his leg free. Abruptly, Eirik is standing again, aware that now was a fight for his own life.

Sabrina was gasping. She found the reality of her release and was unable to focus exactly why. Dropped, like a discarded sack of dirty linen she'd become aware of her smallness in this world. She could feel the air whistle through a puncture in her throat, felt the hot blood of her insides meet the cold brisk air of a Frostmaw morning. he groan is that of suffering as her arms flop lazily,uncontrolled one to find the other. A check for those bangles and if they had been lost in this fight. All the world fell heavy like a pause, a picture of her laying there, near bare in the frost of winter hell, her blood pulloting the whiteness and her hair mottled and tossed across the stark snowbank. Did she hear a woman laughing? No, that couldn't be real. They were alone out here. A howl threatens her passing, forcing her eyes open as she tries to put in order the things she could feel on her boddy versus the things she could not. The burn of her lifes energy courses through her consiousness. "Eirik." A raspy whisper, hardly tangible to even be a real word. Her body is moving, final thralls of effort to turn her upright so that she may find him. She turns on her side, then rolls to her belly, cradling that sword as it hissed in anger, cooled by the snow and ice. She thought him gone and she was helpless to save him. "No." She is crying, clutching that blade like it were Eirik himself and sinking into a sea of sobs and "Why."

He couldn't focus on anything, on more than what was at hand. The second Dire Wolf lunges, though its task only to sweep the hybrids leg out from under his form. The wolf before him also attacks, trying desperately to clamp jaws down onto the Northmans throat. Drool and spittle launching free as mouth flies open in deadly intent. The Lycan finds himself knocked over in the assault unaware of the wolf behind him, but clawed hands grab at the maw, one on the lower portion and the other on the upper half. Eirik howls into the face of the Dire Wolf as its form comes to a rest over his fallen frame. The northman twists, fighting the body weight of the wolf, wrangling its head into the ground. Their position had shifted, Eirik straddled the beast, and hand balls into a fist to deliver a jarring blast of enraged fury to the side of its face. Again, Eirik leans in, bestial body bellowing into the side of the creatures head. The other wolf panics, knocking Eirik from the body of its clan-mate. His body skitters to a halt a few feet away, and crazed hybrid rises again. But something happens. Twists in the eyes of the predators turned prey. Enchantments fade, but their target stands drawing deep ragged breaths unwilling to end this assault. They rise together, looking to each other and back to Eirik. Teeth barring in a show of defiance. The berserker sweeps his frame low, his own malicious teeth barring, hands reach to the ground. It was a pissing contest, and both Dires, finally back down. Lowering their own bodies and tucking ears back, tails between legs. Sabrina might hear the entire event from the distance, the sudden struggle, the yipes from the attacks. Eirik isn't dead.

Her eyes blink hard. Opening in thin slits so she may take focus. Her hand was burning, her forearm too. She peers down at the blade still aflame and it causes her to recoil with a screeching complaint. How long had she had her eyes closed? Not nearly long enough as keen ears hone in on the screeches and yelps of a dog brawl reasonably close thought she couldn't see it. She begins to crawl in that direction, marking her trail with a beautiful red streak across the bright white of the vague tracks that lead her. "Eirik." It is still not coming out in full volume, her healing taking far longer than usual in such frigid and baron environments. He left leg is dragging, exposed meat having been ripped open but the cold felt good and it did well to stifle the true extent of her fluid purge. The woman's laugh was gone now, and she was certain she was gaining her wits. Slowly she made her way, and soon she would find him with two great beasts. But he was standing, ferocious and unafraid.

Attention does not shift for the first breathtaking moments. The shift is sudden, arm takes a single step towards the pair of Dire wolves. Their reaction clear, both dropping to the floor, exposing bellies to the beast; tales still between their legs. It now that the Hybrids sneer of a grin fades and sights shift to Sabrina. It was like a volcano of emotion, bursting free from his mind, forcing a shift which would normally not come for hours. Frozen feet move to bring his frame to hers. "I." his voice weak, shaking. "Thought you were dead." Hell she might still die, and he panics, trying to help her the only way he knows how. He had completely ignored the dogs behind him, who whimper in response to the smell of Eiriks own fear. She might notice the lack of anger in the pair, though nervous about something. His sword is forgotten, "I need to get you warm." Arms reach beneath her, to carry her as if she were a bride swept off her feet in a moment of passion. Sabrina would find herself carried back to the warmth of the tent, blankets thrown over her form. "I'm so sorry," emotion smearing his own visage. This would be the first time she would see that tears marred his silver eyes. His own leg hurt like hell, but he had to press on for her. The wolves mentioned earlier, come to a halt outside of the tent in unfamiliar lands. He scanned the area for his basic kit, looking for alcohol and bandages and set himself to the task of wrapping the worst of her wounds first.

She grunts as she is lifted, only having eyes to see if he is indeed not a figment of her own wishes and hopes. "Am I not?" Dead, she meant. She couldn't tell. Soon she is being wrapped, not remembering the travel from one scenery to the next. But it was warm in here. She tries to sit, unaware of the damage to her form that is healing but not as quickly as one would have liked. She needed to be awake for that to take place, awake the whole time. "It's sticky, get it off." She struggles against the fabric of his shirt, tearing at the already threadbare cloth and revealing to her own eyes the quality of her wounds. "Shit." She is still trying to sit, freaking, reasonably. It is now that the pain sets in, likely her body calming from the shock of the attack. "What..." Her bloodied hand comes to rest along his jaw, tears streaming down her face. "I heard a voice." More like a maniacal laughter. Her vision falls to his leg. “You’re hurt.” She was stumbling and stupid in her current state, watching him move with the bandages at record speed. For now, her vitals were saved, all that remains is the twisted up flesh of a leg she’d consider cutting off at this point, just to be rid of the raw pain; and torn tissues along her neck and arm. Eyes once more wander, finding her wrists empty and she panics. A foot goes kicking Eirik, likely only earning her a jostle of even more pains, new pains, as she scoots herself from him. “Stop!” And then “Don’t touch me!” She is looking from her wrists to the bedding and anything she could reach. “They’re gone!”

Eirik would give her a frustrated sigh at her attempt to kick him off. "Stop." His voice serious as eyes shift to her. "You're going to make this worse." Hands pull free that bandage, whether she liked it or not. "You are my patient right now and I don't -care- what your touch sends through me." He would sigh now, knowing that his reaction harsh, but it was Eirik. Not some random in Kelay and she was being childish about this. "I've felt pain a thousand times Sabrina. I can push through it. And when we are done, I will go find those bangles for you." That bottle of alcohol is now freed from its cork, teeth pulling the stopper. "Now please, give me that leg." He'd wait for her to decide, but decide she must. "It's me. It's okay to let me help you."

She is still for a time before he is given the nod, that one eye shifting to a white glaze. Her leg is brought closer to her. That... she had done that to people before, she had seen it done. "No, wait." She is trying to find some reason in her mind why she wouldn't need that. "I don't get infections." True enough, but they were miles from help and she was about tapped out as it was. "I'm... No" And now, she was being childish. For someone so known for showing no remorse when rendering services she was pretty stubborn about that alcohol in his hand and what he intended on doing with it. "Do it without that." She points at the bottle and stares directly into those perfect silver eyes.

Without the alcohol? He did still have a lot to learn about her talents. The bottle is now offered to her, "then you might want to drink this." He didn't have needle and thread, or anything beyond just this. He hoped the tight wrap would allow her own healing to kick in, take over for him. If she did indeed give him that leg after the bottle is taken away, he would mercilessly wrap that thing up. Tighter above the wound that the rest of the wrapping, helping to slow the blood flow. "I don't have much else I can do, except for find my sword and bring its warmth in here." Eyes move to the entrance, still smelling the wolves just outside. In this moment, Sabrina might hear the whimper of one as muzzle shifts through the flap. Beady golden eyes looking upon the duo before pulling itself back out of sight. Finally, frozen feet are thrown into boots, and sabs might find another issue. Eirik lifts open the flap glaring at both predators and clicks his teeth while stepping aside. The creatures hesitantly move into the tent and sniff around. One of them gets dangerously close to the probably still frightful Sabrina, tongue flicking out to lick at her. The other just doesn't seem to give much of a damn and lays down. "They can at least provide some warmth." Eirik would step out, both jerking their heads at such a departure. "Frakking mutts," he barks at himself while leaving to retrieve the three missing items. Though none might understand, the 3 wolves (Eirik included) had formed a type of bestial bond. They had an understanding. Eirik is boss and their whole pack, dead, missing or simply gone.

She releases her leg to him, squirming and flinching and 'ow'ing.' Doctors really did make the worst patients. When he is done she practices streching that muscle. An inspection leads to a firm nod and she is impressed with his skill. The alcohol is not wasted, she'd wait until those bangles were around to help it sink in. When he moves to exit in all his barely dressed form and winter boots she grins. It was a nice view, at least until those beasts came in and she found herself nervous as they take their place in Eirik's stead. "Um... Mela-" A lick. "Gross." She mumbles.He was right though, with a combination of two heated vessels behind her she quickly stops shivering and she hadn't even noticed it prior to that. She revels in the thoughts of how Eirik is so intune with her needs, often before she is even aware. When he comes back she is huddled in a mass of breathing furs, propped up against a ruck and nearly falling asleep. She has a shit-eatting grin on her face.

Eirik does indeed return with all the aforementioned items. The flap of their tent noisy at his entrance, letting in some of that frigid air of the outside world. The dogs are eyeballed for a moment, who only shift at his entrance. Sabrinas grin however, makes him wonder what she was thinking about. The sword is dropped, the flames dead and sheathed. The bangles are brought to Sabrina, pushing one of the mutts out of the way. What the hell was he going to do with these two? Keep and name them? Hell they sure would help on the hunt. Seriously though, didn't they just attack two sleeping people? If he did decide to, they would be a handful of trouble. "Sabrina," free hand reaches to touch the side of her face hoping to bring her back into the subconscious world. The bangles are placed beside her, so she might don them when she felt ready. Truthfully he hoped she would let that healing of hers drag on for longer. Gods, he was worried. Hor her. For himself. It seemed Illisarias reach knew no bounds.

She is quick to wake, eyes snapping open the instant he touches her, but they aren't as stark when he does so. The green was a sickly green, murky and dull. When she sees the bangles she snatches them up, rushing to be upright, and sliding then over her hands. She looks almost relieved as she exhales softly and rests her head against the make-shift pillow. "You shouldn't do that, you know." She was growing more concern over his well being. "Let me take a look at it." She forces herself more upright to better view her demand, fully expecting him to comply. "So, what was that anyway?"

Eiriks own leg was throbbing like hell, it's true. Sabrina's well-being far outweighing his own. He was doing everything he could to not just pick her up, and hold her. She was almost lost to him and that thought messes with his mind a little. This beautiful elfess, regardless of that useless eye, meant the world to him. The healer is his anchor here. His tie into the world he found before him. Eyes shift to the two wolves, clearly irritated about what had just transpired. As for her comments, Eirik begrudgingly lets her look to his own wounds. Mainly the clamped on calf of his. The transformation had helped heal some of it, but a clear mark of teeth still riddled the leg. "It was Illisaria," he knew it right down to his very core. A nightmare. The plague of his past. "The witch of the reach," he muses tone showing his mind in some far off place. "That vampire is the one who sent me here. Probably bothered by the life I have found." Probably wasn't even what he believed. He knew it. "I have to learn to fight against witches."

She seemed somewhat distracted from her own issues as she takes the time to examine him. His leg is wrapped with the same fervor as her own, despite his damage being slightly less. His healing took care of closing off any major infections sights so the wrap could then be soaked in alcohol. She had no mercy either, in the midst of his words just pouring it on before taking a swig and handing it to him. "Most of the pain is associated with anticipation." She explains before leaning back and listening to his conclusions. "Illisaria." She frowns. It sounded like a witch's name. "And Artia? What do you plan on doing with her? Because I have an idea, but you're not going to like it."

The Northman is so lost in his own mind, that anticipation didn't build. Nothing of note brought him from that trance-like state; where some might squirm at the pain, its burn only bringing him back to reality. Only now does it settle in his mind that Sabrina had wrapped him up, and poured that alcohol. Silver hues flick from the wrapped wound back to her. Visibly Eirik looks a little frustrated that Sabrina has some thought about how Artia should be handled. Man, she would not like this conversation. "Artia and I are done. She chose to become something wretched." As if stating: even if she could be cured she is no longer my sister. "She's an empty husk of what she once was," Eirik pulls free a blanket for himself, realizing that he is frozen. "Everything that I know of Artia died years ago. She's a witch and a damned Vampire to boot. She chose this path Sabrina. Now, she's no better in my mind than the witch who just attacked us."

She contemplates his mindset and lifts a layer of furs that he might lay with her and share each others heat. "She asked if you would come see her. I told her she messed up." She speaks carefully now. "I think I might be able to reverse it, but... there are some risks. I can make her human again." She sounds positive. "The process is a little grueling." And she speaks no more on it. If it could give him his sister back then she would be more than willing, even -if- it meant she was leaving out the risks. She'd wait for him to come to her, if he would, and cradle his head, running fingers softly through his hair. His new companions had made themselves at home and the Healer was sure that what ever had come over them had passed.

Eiriks waits a moment contemplating what she is speaking of. That offered spot looks so cozy. Though, so instead he finds his way next to her - attempting to share the warmth as best as possible. Sabrina wasn't understanding the full weight of the situation between the -non blood related- family they had formed forever ago. Nor did she understand how their ties had been completely severed by Artias actions. There isn't anyway that she could change his mind, but he understood she was only offering help. This door he had shut on Artia is a veritable fortress, filed behind steel gates and guard dogs. "I appreciate your willingness to help out Sabrina." his tone low, and showing the truth he spoke of. "Even if you could heal her, it's her mind. She -chose- to willingly become this. I will never see her again, unless it's to end her life."

She was starting to grasp that it was a trust thing, a break in faith, and a betrayal in love. She sighs softly. "I won't leave... Eirik." A promise, more to herself than him since it came out in almost a whisper. She aches slightly when she shifts to snuggle next to him. The Bangles are removed, feeling at ease that she would not harm him in his sleep. She was tired though, and she would need to head out to some wildlife sometime in the morning. Something less frozen. "Does it hurt?" She asks, mumbling somewhere near some much needed sleep, her hands running up his middle and drawing trace amounts of energy from him. It was bold, she hoped he wouldn't mind. But she was warming. As she drifts she would not be offended if her removed her hands from him, or stuffed a layer between them to stifle her touch. But, he would sleep long, and he would sleep hard, and it was likely, by morning he would wake groggy at most.