RP: Drift Into Silence

Summary: A dryad, done with her duty, makes her final preparations. And yet, her departure does not go unnoticed.

Sea of Falling Stars

As the last vestiges of mist clear away, a vast expanse of black stretches out before you, gleaming waters reflecting an unfamiliar sky. Foreign constellations paint vivid pictures in the sky, their presence sure to confound any sailor or long term denizen of the dead city. That said, the most uncanny element is the moments where one begins to blaze with an eerie light, growing with every passing moment as it plummets towards the sea. It's in these moments that slithering silhouettes can be seen dispersing beneath the otherwise caliginous surface. Shapes and shades which fade from sight as the waters swallow that incandescent skyfall, it's angry hisses smothered in moments- it's light dying not long after, reduced to a fading glimmer that descends ever onwards. And yet, some small signs of civilization yet remain- buoys of bone, lit by corpsefire, sporadically drift within the waters- a meager lifeline within the gloomy tides.

Chisel :: "This is a good place to die," Chisel commented as she looked out at the accursed body of water. Death and decay lingered in the very air, and she wondered if the gift of rebirth even existed in this heathenous place. Hopefully not. She had grown tired. Her demise had been a long-accepted fact; she just refused to accept it. The ground beneath her feet was not dissimilar to that abominable floating land, so separated from the natural cycle yet existing against the odds. But this was better, she told herself. Schezerade felt artificial, but this one felt different, natural in its own way, yet something else entirely. "Bring everyone here," she commanded as the dolls on her feet—dolls, toys infested with flora, vines, thorns, leaves, and flowers growing onto their very form, like some gardener's messed-up practical joke—lowered their heads, whimpered, and cried. They even began hugging one another as if saddened by the dryad's decision. "Postponing my death any longer would not be wise, you all know that," Chisel added before her little children went on their way. She wanted to enjoy watching this heretical beach longer, listening to the sound of liquid as it bashed against the sands and rocks. She could hear beasts somewhere nearby, in the water? Perhaps. All she knew was that she would be leaving... hopefully soon, as she could no longer hold it back. And the lantern could not keep it at bay any longer. For the next couple of days, Flora Colossi brought materials into Vailkrin. This included lumber, plant life, and even some animals and earth. Dozens upon dozens of them walked in unison as they carried out this task, moving from the Ancient Forest, through the portal to the undead lands, and finally to where she stood by the sea. It would take some time, but construction continued day and night without rest. The light of her lantern kept the creatures moving, even without the warmth of the sun in the sky. She will sail away soon, bringing all she could with her and hopefully... finally enter her long awaited rest.

Kasyr does his best to keep his fingers on the proverbial pulse of the city - to listen in for any hint would-be eldritch whisperers, fanatical apocalypse-mongers, and other conspirators of a more criminal nature. The consistently clandestine nature of Vailkrins' opponents (if not the threats they represent) has led to a perpetual sense of paranoia. That said, even if the vampire -wasn't- on alert, he'd be hard-pressed to miss the continual train floral aberrations, especially given that they required arcane assistance to properly navigate their way to the sea- since their colossal stature threatened to otherwise clog the way forward. Which is what had brought him to the mist coated cove, and the small figure currently playing the role of chief architect to their own forlorn life-raft. "Well, this is a curious gathering." Could such a varied degree overgrown puppets be called anything else? Though, some small part of the swordsman was curious if they were actually sentient, or if their proverbial strings would be cut when Chisel was gone- given her habit of animating the things she was near. If the latter was true, was this simply some unhinged act of talking to oneself? "Mm."

Chisel stood still by the coast, her shepherd's staff at her side with a bright lantern hanging from its end. It wasn't in her nature to bother about others... nature is neither fair nor cruel. It's indifferent to what 'people' think. No amount of laws would prevent an animal from walking wherever it pleases, much like no amount of walls would stop nature from crawling through. Her colossi continued to bring forth materials for her 'raft,' if one could call it that. Beasts along the coast could be seen hauling shipwrecks along, piling them over the dryad's vessel while thick vines grappled onto them, absorbing, expanding. A great vessel, enough to land entire armies on a single trip, and yet instead of that, its surface was covered with lush green, trees planted on moved earth while their very roots clung onto the vessel's main body. An island, how it remained flowering and flourishing under the deathly aura of the land remains a mystery, but Chisel doesn't care. She stares at the vessel as her servants work. A small doll walks up toward Kasyr. She supposes she should've at least told someone; causing conflict now would be too annoying for her. At the very least, she is thankful no one has stopped her giants; it has been days after all. The small doll extends its hand toward Kasyr. As if asking him to follow, should he do so, he'll find Chisel along the coast. "I remember you... Our last encounter isn't exactly... friendly," turning her attention a bit. "Care to share this moment with me?"

Kasyr may be eyeing the artificial islet with some degree of suspicion, and yet, despite its curious size- he can't discern anything about it that's threatening, immediate or otherwise. If anything, it's simply another anomaly- a vessel bearing life, soon to sail out onto a sunless sea. To wither and die, its' captain likely to follow not long after. The swordsman exhales, however unnecessarily, the chill of his breath mirroring that of the cove- though he still goes through the motions of drawing his scarf up over his mouth, and hugging his trenchcoat a bit closer to his body. There's a familiarity to be found there, even if the actions have been hollowed out of their meaning. It's only when the diminutive doll approaches him and 'offers' to play tour guide that he finally moves from the spot he'd chosen- allowing it to guide him towards the orchestrator of this oddity. "That sounds like most of my encounters." The retort's near automatic, and it takes him a moment to offer a more sincere attempt at conversation, "What am I looking at, exactly?"

Chisel simply replies, "A means to an end..." a short pause soon follows. "My end... this place... this land, was a good place to die on, don't you agree?" she tilts her head toward Kasyr as work continues in the background. Though the island from afar may represent artistic beauty, in closer inspection, each and every bit of it was flora and fauna known for their danger, poison, and violence all concentrated in one place, gathered from various territories across the land. "I do not know if you truly want to know, nor care. It doesn't matter as the land knows, and that's just fine. But I suppose, reaching this far does make one feel a bit chatty," a rare smile creeps across her face as slowly the giants become absorbed upon the very ship. Like falling timber, they fell onto it, but instead of a violent crash, their forms quickly withered and returned to dust, absorbed by the ship's soil. "This land... not Vailkrin but its entirety... seems to have been abandoned by the gods. I alone guarded the forest for so long, and nearly none of my sisters came to help. I am tired. I have been long dead but here I am still doing my duty..." shaking her head, "No more," exhaling loudly. "I wouldn't mind a witness, though I doubt it would mean anything to you... but it would for me... I think." Barefooted, she began walking toward the ship, as creatures prepare the vessel to sail for the first and final time.

Kasyrs' memories of Chisel were so oft tinged by violence- which makes this moment all the more striking. The dryad, like him, had been a weapon wielded towards an end- and now her edge had grown dull, worn away by the rigours of duty, and simple negligence. "A curious thing to say, when you seem keen on building a boat." And yet it's not a boat, not really. While the overall art of the islets lethality is lost on him- the intent seems readily apparent. It's a crypt, meant to drift undisturbed until the sea swallows it whole. "I would sometimes think us lucky, were that truly the case. " All too often, the continent been ravaged due to the gross negligence of deities. Or at least, he hoped it was negligence- because it would be all too easy to image it as a contemptuous disdain for their continued existence. Or, perhaps, a malicious test- to see if they might drag themselves forward to the next disaster, civilization aping the desperation of cockroaches to survive. "Tch." His jaw clenches, wrestling his expression from a grimace into an approximation of neutrality, "We all hope to be remembered. And at least, in this case, I'm likely to keep that memory alive for some time." That's all she'd get from him, however- because as she drifts further along the shore, and towards her floating coffin, his only action is to take a seat along the coast and watch her slowly depart.