logs | The Shadow of Winter

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The Shadow of Winter

WHO: Augustine & whomever joins (open prompts below)
WHERE: Throughout most of Stygia (the Barrens, The Harbors, and maybe a few other locations.)
WHEN: December catch-all & event prompts
WHAT: Winter was never his favorite time of the year, especially since the winter always seemed to last forever.
WARNINGS: Mentions of self-harm, suicide ideations, possible violence, and maybe cuddling?

[ Hey, folks! I'm still on hiatus but I wanted to put up a few prompts for this month's event. I'll be tagging in and out throughout the week, so please be patient. If you would like to plot with me, feel free to drop me a DM or hit me up on

devillady. I'm always more than happy to make a starter or two. So don't be shy. Also, you're welcome to make your own starters as well. ]

PLOTTING 🌹 EVENT🌹 WILDCARD

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You, help me…?

[A dark chuckle escapes Augustine once he hears that preposterous claim. One that becomes increasingly louder and more unhinged as his shadow slowly takes control. His laughter is more akin to a wild shriek than the gentlemanly chuckles he shared with Cedrik in the past. A stark reminder that something truly wicked has overcome the dhampir’s mild-mannered nature. It’s like listening to someone choking on water, a harsh distressing sound that’s bound to bring up some bad memories. After all, Augustine isn’t the first person to drown in their grief.]

How can you help me when you can barely help yourself?

[The second he asks that, several small little daggers suddenly dart towards Cedrik at blinding speeds. While they’re no bigger than your average knife, these little blood daggers are quite sharp. They whip around Cedrik like a hornets giving their caster the time necessary to draw more blood.

Without warning, Augustine brings his hand to his lips and bites harshly into the nearly frozen flesh. Thick rivulets of blackened-red blood spills to the snowy ground as he attempts to summon an even larger weapon. If Cedrik thought things were bad already, they’re about to get ten times worse.]

Spare me the lies! You can’t protect anyone or else you wouldn’t be here!

[Just as Cedrik has witnessed in times past, a massive dark red blade suddenly forms within Augustine’s hands forged from his congealed blood.]

[ Another hissed curse slips out as Cedrik quickly moves to defend himself. Arms are brought up and braced, protecting his face and chest as the magicked daggers shoot towards him. They slice through leather and skin, though the wounds are superficial at worst. They serve their purpose, keeping Cedrik from closing the distance as Augustine prepares another spell.

But for the wounds his words cause... ]

...!

[ For a moment Cedrik is stricken. His own Shadow pounces on claim. What good is he to anyone? How can he save anyone when they're all already dead? What purpose did sacrificing himself serve?

A different memory echoes at that thought, as if in answer to those questions.

'Oh, do not look at me so...'

In an instant the doubt is gone, burned away with a sudden, righteous fury. ]

I died, that others would live. To protect. To sacrifice. There is no greater calling!

[ How dare Augustine even suggest otherwise.

In a flash Cedrik draws his own weapon, holding it before him and calling on magic of his own. A black shell flickers to around his body, granting a temporary reprieve from the harrying daggers. That done he leaps at Augustine, shockingly agile while wielding his own oversized sword. Augustine's is certainly fancy, but how well does he know how to use it? ]

Lies! You merely perished because you FAILED!

[The shadow shouts as it struggles to lift the enormous blade. It seems the creature overestimated Augustine’s strength in this weakened state since it takes two good tries to lift it. By the time the dhampir manages, Cedrik is already close enough to strike.]

You’re no great hero!

[He yells before attempting to parry the blow with the sword. Unfortunately, he barely succeeds and nearly loses his grip. While Augustine might be stronger than your average person, he’s not strong enough to be wielding massive greatswords. He’s a mage after all but the shadow in possession of him forgets this. The dhampir attempts to put some distance between them by summoning those needle sharp daggers once more. It’s a desperate move, one that showcases that this malevolent shadow isn’t as powerful as it thinks.]

You’re just some naive pathetic little soul playing hero.

[The fiend tries again to swing the massive sword at Cedrik but he’s a bit too slow and too far to cause any real damage. Maybe summoning a greatsword wasn’t the best idea after all.]

Bloody hells–!

[It suddenly slams the sword back down into the snow with the ungainliness of a newborn chick. Between the bitter cold and frost, Augustine's body is starting to give into the elements.]

Edited 2022-12-11 04:38 (UTC)

[ Now, isn't this a familiar sight? His enemy staggering back, their confidence shattering even as they continue to spew their defiance, their disbelief. The steel of his weapon makes a strange sound when it strikes against Augustine's blood sword, but there's no satisfaction in seeing the dhampir struggle just to keep hold of it. This is his friend. They shouldn't be fighting like this...

Best to make it quick. ]

...

[ Cedrik doesn't flinch away from the daggers, the shield he created before lasting just long enough to absorb most of the damage--and when it breaks, the feedback gives Cedrik a fresh burst of strength. He swings his own blade in a downward, diagonal strike, meeting Augustine's blade and following up with a burst of dark magic. He's not aiming for his friend, all he wants is to knock the dhampir's weapon from his hands. The moment Cedrik manages it he takes one swift step forward, cocking a fist back and swinging it hard at Augustine's jaw. ]

[Melee combat was never really Augustine's forte but Cedrik makes this look easy. The shadow struggles to keep its balance after their clash. It’s almost as if the malevolent entity cannot fully control Augustine’s form the way it wants. That's good since this gives Cedrik the opening he needs to put an end to this nonsense. That little burst of dark magic worked well enough to wrench the blood blade out of the dhampir’s hand but it was the following punch that sealed the deal.

Just before the shadow could recover long enough to try to summon those blood daggers for a third time, Cedrik’s fist connects with his jaw. It all happens so fast. One minute this brooding monster was spitting his venom and the next it was knocked onto its knees by Cedrik. It was so unexpected, especially since Cedrik seemed so adamant about not harming his host. Sometimes when words fail and all reason is lost, you have to rely on your fist to get your point across. However, the shadow didn’t take into account that his opponent would be desperate enough to try something like this.

Augustine falls right to the snow, a broken and battered mess. Between the exhaustion, the blood loss, and cold, there’s no possible way that his body can hold out any longer. Sensing this, the shadow decides it’s high time to leave. It slowly recedes to the untouchable reaches of Augustine’s soul but not before cursing Cedrik’s name through bloodied teeth.]

You can’t protect him forever.

[The shadow threatens despite its words being nothing more than a garbled mess. Yeah, Augustine is going to be feeling that punch for days.]

You’ll…slip up eventually. After all, I can sense the darkness within.

[Before Cedrik could respond the shadow seemed to vanish leaving Augustine's crumbled form in its wake. Those little red daggers from earlier suddenly shatter like glass along with that blood sword that fell into the snow earlier. The shattered shards linger there for a time before eventually changing into blood once more. It's an rather eerie sight, especially since there's so much blood everywhere.]

[ Cedrik does not look proud of himself, though he's able to shrug off the Shadow's last verbal barbs without too much trouble. Though he wonders, briefly, who's darkness the Shadow was talking about...

Stoically he returns his weapon to his back and bends down, once again picking his friend up and out of the snow. It looks like a murder scene but Augustine is still breathing if frighteningly cold, even for the dhampir. ]

Let's try that again...up we go.

[ Hopefully the grisly scene ends up buried by the still falling snow before long. The last thing they'd need is for someone to find it and follow them to ask awkward questions. Though he doesn't let himself worry over what might happen and focuses instead on what has, marching forward as quick as he can with Augustine in his arms, heading right for the dhampir's storefront.

Hopefully the door is unlocked but he's not above rifling through Augustine's pockets for his keys at this point, or even breaking in. They need shelter and they need it desperately.

One way or another, once Cedrik has finally arrived he hunts down a spot for his friend to lie down or at least be seated, from there it's blankets or--does he have a stove in this place? A hearth? Anything to create some much needed warmth, Cedrik searches. ]

[Thankfully, Augustine had the foresight to create a boutique that could serve as his home away from home. That means this little shop is all equipped with a functioning kitchenette with a little stove in the corner, and a miniature lounge area with a table, some chairs, and a rather lovely old fashioned sofa he managed to fix up. The more Cedrik looks around, the more he’ll realize that his friend has been living here lately.

While the front of the shop looks more like a greenhouse judging from all the flowers and plants stacked high upon the shelves, the backroom here looks a bit lived in. There’s all sorts of books and papers scattered about on the desk along with a couple of shockingly-detailed sketches drawn by the dhampir. Some of those sketches are of people they know and others that Cedrik wouldn’t recognize at all. Heck, he might even find a sketch of himself here among all the scattered drawings. After all, those Viera ears are quite noticeable. It seems that Augustine has a hidden talent, one that he neglected to share.

It’s a humble little abode, one that smells sweet and earthy. While it's definitely a bit chilly here but not as cold as outside. By this point, Augustine’s heartbeat would’ve slowed to a crawl from every thirty seconds, to forty-five or so. He’s not doing well, not at all, but at least he’s not dead. That bloody hand of his is definitely going to need stitches, though. Thankfully, it’s not bleeding half as badly as earlier. It seems the blood flow has stopped quite a bit. However, the main problem lies in the fact that Augustine is almost halfway frozen. There’s a couple of blankets conveniently strewn across the sofa, further proving the dhampir has taken a liking to the harbor.

Maybe something happened in his little cottage in the Barrens? Something that would have chased him here.]

[ Cedrik lets out a quiet sigh of relief when he makes it inside and spots all the creature comforts Augustine's gathered together. Maybe this won't be as difficult as he'd thought.

First, the couch. Augustine is laid out carefully, his wounded hand brought up to rest above his heart. That should slow the bleeding even further--though as slow as the dhampir's heartbeat is, Cedrik wonders if it will make any difference. Next, the stove. Augustine is so cold that Cedrik worries a blanket would only make it worse without a stronger, outside source of heat. Only when he has it running does he look to bundling his friend up. Clothes wet from snow are stripped away--sorry, Augustine--and laid out to dry while his dignity is spared with the blankets.

Only then does Cedrik take half a step back to assess. ]

...the wound.

[ Though it was a lifetime ago, he used to practice some basic conjuration. Enough to give immediate, emergency healing should the Wood Warder ever need it, at least until he could get proper help. He should remember how to mend a little bite like that...if he had a wand.

Cedrik looks around the front of the boutique and all the the lovingly cultivated flowers and other plants. He looks back at his friend.

Depending on when Augustine regains consciousness, he may awake to find his friend either ransacking a rosebush in order to get wand materials out of it, or muttering curses as he tries to get the damned cure spell to work with what he managed to cobble together. ]

[A pained gasp escapes Augustine as he begins to stir from unconsciousness. Vampires like him tend to fall into a death-like sleep whenever they're utterly fatigued. However, they usually do so within the safety and comforts of a coffin. Cedrik had the right idea to use the stove to warm up the stop. Just a few pots of boiling water over an open flame would be enough to raise the humidity here to a comfortable level. That and the fact Augustine finds himself almost mummified within layer after layer of blankets.

When he first opened his eyes, he was welcomed by the jarring pain on the right side of his jaw. The dhampir couldn’t help but wince in discomfort as he touches the swollen lump there. What exactly hit him? It’s almost as if someone punched him right in the jaw or something. Whatever the case, he’s grateful he didn’t lose a tooth. While he might be half-vampire, he’s certainly not immune to physical harm.

He lays there helplessly against the soft cushions of the sofa, momentarily unaware that he’s been undressed. A sigh passes through his lips as he stares up at the dark wooden ceiling above. He tries in vain to remember what happened before noticing something moving from the corner of his eyes. It’s then that he’s awarded with the sight of Cedrik muttering something while holding what seems to be a bundle of sticks and flowers.]

…Cedrik?

[He can barely speak. His voice comes out in a hoarse low whisper.]

What are you…doing?

[ At the moment Cedrik isn't doing much of anything, though it's not for a lack of effort. The Viera's brow is furrowed and his lips are pressed into a thin, flat frown as he holds the 'wand' before him in one hand, the other open to help channel the aether.

The worst part is he can feel it almost working each time he tries to cast a spell. He blinks up when Augustine finally stirs and speaks, looking stubbornly back down at the wand as he gives it another try. ]

How much do you remember...?

[ He's not dodging the question out of embarrassment. He just...wants to know how much he needs to apologize for that sock to Augustine's jaw...

There's a flicker of light that travels up the length of the wand that sputters out as quickly as it appeared. Cedrik bites the inside of his cheek to hold back the curse. ]

[Augustine falls silent for a time as he struggles to remember anything of note. The last thing he remembers was the biting cold and the frigid winds. He was trying to make it back to his shop after something strange happened at home. It was almost as if he was chased out into the bitter cold by a force unknown.]

I...I don't remember much. [He quietly admits while drawing the blankets closer against himself.] I just remember desperately trying to reach the boutique.

[A despondent sigh escapes him as he tries to remember what it was that chased him out into the icy landscape. While his memory is a bit hazy at best, he's utterly determined to find out what happened. That's why he looks towards Cedrik for answers.]

Something happened to me, didn't it?

[Judging from his rather grim expression, he's quite aware of what transpired.]

Something that nearly changed me for the worse.

[ As Augustine speaks, Cedrik quietly gives up on the magic with subdued disappointment. He's not really surprised that he couldn't manage it, but the fact that it was almost working was enough to get his hopes up. The roughly shaped wand is set aside on the table, amongst the many stacks of sketches. He didn't have the time to snoop into them, busy as he was making sure his friend would be alright, but it was an interesting new thing to learn about his friend... ]

Yes, something did...your Shadow.

[ Cedrik can remember, if vaguely, what his Shadow got up to when he'd given it control. The fact that Augustine does not is curious. Perhaps it was because Cedrik had made the conscious decision (foolish as it was) to hand over control, while in Augustine's case it was taken while the dhampir's guard was down? That's his best guess...not that it matters much now.

Quietly, Cedrik coaxes for Augustine's bitten hand. He found some gauze he can use to wrap up the wound, in case the cure spell didn't work. ]

I had to fight to get it to stand down. So...I am sorry about the jaw...

[A wave of panic flashes across Augustine’s face as a wave of nausea suddenly overwhelms him. His shadow, yes. It was his “shadow” that chased him out of the house. He remembers now. Augustine was staring at himself in the mirror, when his shadow suddenly spoke. Despite being half-vampire, he can still see his reflection as plain as day.

However, he wasn’t quite prepared for what he saw. He had never seen such hatred reflected in his eyes before. It was almost as if he was staring into the eyes of the abyss. It was a frightening affair that honestly shook him to his core. Just thinking about the whole ordeal makes him nervous but what worries him more is the disappointed gleam in Cedrik’s eyes.]

I-I don’t know what to say.

[He mutters quietly as he looks down at his hands. What’s with that nasty gash on his right hand? He stares down at the injury alarm. It’s almost like a wild beast attacked him while he was under the shadow’s spell. While he doesn’t recall what transpired, he can vividly remember the taste of his own blood. If so, then does that mean the shadow tried to—

He turns towards Cedrik in a panic.]

I’m sorry! [He blurts out.] I’m so sorry! I thought I had it under control but suddenly—

[The shadow got the better of him. Somehow, this malevolent entity managed to break through the thin veil between them and overpower him. It’s a frightful thought but also a tad embarrassing as well. ]

I didn’t mean to put you in such danger, Cedrik.

[He apologies yet again as Cedrik starts tending to his wounded hand. Augustine might need stitches this time. The shadow didn’t care about how much damage it inflicted upon Augustine.]

[ Augustine need not say anything, as far as Cedrik is concerned, so he does not press. Perhaps he should say something. Offer some comfort or reassurance...something to make sure Augustine knows that he understands what it's like. It's a struggle all Restless face, after all. ]

...

[ Finding the right words is also a struggle, at times.

The Viera's eyes lift in surprise when Augustine fills the silence instead, wincing at himself when the dhampir tries to apologize. His work on the wounded hand pauses, Cedrik reaching over and putting a steadying grip on the other's shoulder. ]

All is well, Augustine. You needn't apologize...

[ Cedrik is unharmed beyond a few minor nicks, Augustine's own injuries are being seen to, and they are both out of the cold once more. Everything turned out okay, didn't it? There's no point in laying blame, there's nothing Augustine could have done--

Something in the Viera's gaze hardens, eyes lowering as he realizes that last thought was not wholly his own. There is something he could have done, though Cedrik still doesn't blame his friend...at this point, it needs to be said. ]

...you need to find a Soulmate.

[A Soulmate? Augustine cannot help but sigh.

Who in their right mind would want to have a bloody vampire as a Soulmate? It’s almost laughable, especially since Augustine doesn’t know the first thing about that level of intimacy. He’s been alone for most of his long life, surviving on his own as a hermit who cast himself out from the public’s eye. While being a Soulmate here honestly differs from its usual definition, Augustine doesn’t know what to think about it. At first, he assumed all that Souldarity stuff to be a complete ruse. However, he’s been proven time and time again that the restless need to depend on each other in hope of surviving.

Even so, Augustine can’t help but feel like he’s already doomed.]

But who? [He questions Cedrik with a half-hearted smile.] That is the question, isn’t it?

There’s no one who will want someone like me.

[Even though the words sting, Augustine knows it to be the truth. He’s doomed. Honestly, doomed. Unlike so many others, Augustine is the furthest from human. No one would want to share a mind, nevertheless a soul, with a monster. He’s a legitimate threat, one that can barely be contained.]

Edited 2022-12-19 23:13 (UTC)

[ For a moment there, Cedrik is right there with him, empathizing with Augustine's concerns. He nods in response to the sigh as he gets back to wrapping up the dhampir's hand. Opening up to someone so fully, being vulnerable in a way that surpasses any sort of 'conventional' intimacy...it's terrifying. Which is silly, isn't it? He is...he was the Warrior of Light, Champion of Eorzea, so on and so forth, and he's so afraid of being hurt it's paralyzing.

Except it's not the usual pain. Those Tethers are far too precious to put at risk. What if they're damaged? What if they're broken and forever lost?

...he can't. Not again.

So when Augustine starts to ask 'who', Cedrik understands...at least he thought he did. ]

'Want'...?

[ Cedrik is genuinely baffled. ]

Augustine...that's the most nonsensical thing I've ever heard.

[The very idea of breaking one's tethers is a terrifying factor, especially since the soul in question becomes lost within their anguish. How many times have the two of them witnessed such a feat in person? Whether it be the old gargoyle they met within the cave or the countless of restless jailed within the Gallows, such a miserable fate truly scares them both. However, what's even scarier than that is being unable to find a soulmate. It's not as if people are rushing out the door to do so regardless of the inherent dangers. No, so many of them are scared of that level of intimacy due to past traumas and Augustine is no different.

Even so, the threat of possibly losing his eternal soul worries him more. No one will want someone like him as a soulmate nevertheless as an acquaintance. Surely not a single soul would care if he faded from existence in the first place. So what chance does he have?

Well, Augustine is about to realize that his nonsensical rantings have no bases in reality. He's being overly critical of himself. Very critical and unkind. It's ridiculous, to say the least, and thankfully Cedrik is here to proclaim it as such.]

What do you mean? I speak only the truth of the matter!

[He nearly scoffs as he yanks his hand out of Cedrik's grip. A stupid move since he accidentally irritated the wound further. He can't help but wince a little from the pain. A trickle of blood flows down his long purple fingers.]

...Ow.

[He sort of wilts a little as he leans against the soft cushions of the sofa. The poor dhampir looks so defeated right now. The exhaustion is clear upon his face.]

[ In hindsight, Cedrik probably could have phrased that more gently...but when Augustine insists that it's true, that no one would want him for a Soulmate, Cedrik only scowls and firmly (but carefully) takes the dhampir's hand back. ]

You're no fool, I know this. Don't pretend that you left all your sense out there in the snow.

[ Seeing his friend slump down in defeat, however, is enough for the Viera to soften his tone. Patiently he unwraps the bandages that Augustine managed to loosen with his jostling so he can bind the wound again and put a stop to that fresh trickle of blood. ]

What is it that you think would make you unwanted? Your past? None among us are saints, Augustine...

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The Shadow of Winter

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