Tales of a Child Eternal [NSFW]

[Avato (Patchwork Bloke)]

"Tulwath," is the proud, almost prissy reply. "An axiomite, in fact, though..." His snout twists a little, a fair approximation of a frown forming. "As you can see, my.... condition has had its effects on my form as well," he says weakly, looking ashamed.

[Tethras Clan]

"Axiomites?" Zeran asks Helene quietly, not recognizing the word at all.

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene frowns, thinking. "That is indeed an unusual form. Ah, axiomates were created to embody... ah...."

They blink, then look surprised and delighted. "Ah! Fundamental forces of the cosmos. Gravity, physics, and the like. The material plane's attempt to understand itself, via extraplanar embodiment. They typically are bipedal, however."

[Tethras Clan]

That... doesn't sound at all sceleratian. Not much to worry about from gravity.... Zevran thinks carefully. "So... not a danger?"

[Avato (Patchwork Bloke)]

"Hmmm? Danger?" the canine asks, sniffing the air and looking around. "Oh dear, the water seems to be coming in rather rapidly, I see what you mean." He's not entirely... focused, is he?

[Helene Dakesh]

"No," they agree quietly. "Not danger-- my journals!" And now Helene is trying to push past Zevran, to get to the bookshelf. 

[NPCs]

Giving Helene a fond look- if a touch exasperated- Zevran moves to assist as well, the... Dogsbody moving to do what he can as well. His front and back legs lack shoulders suitable for doing much, but the middle set allow for a surprising degree of range so while he can't carry much, he can at least collect loose materials to be boxed. Zevran is quickly given the task of transporting the boxed items to the upper floor, allowing Dogsbody to help collect and Helene to both pack and supervise.

[Helene Dakesh]

It becomes abundantly clear over the next twenty minutes that Helene has either done this numerous times before, or they have done it a few times and lain awake thinking about how to improve it many more times. They have organized the books on their shelf by frequency of use, such that those used most often are easiest to grab, but they clearly have a secondary labeling system involved, to prioritize saving the most rare, valuable, or important tomes first. They have a series of boxes that collapse easily for storage, which they fill rapidly with books and papers to go upstairs. With both them and Dogsbody, they fill crates faster than Zevran can lift them upstairs, which allows Helene plenty of time to pepper Dogsbody with questions -- mostly about Dakesh. 

Helene hears the noise first. They stop dead in their tracks, listening, praying they are wrong about what that noise means. A glance to the ladder up shows that Zevran is well tucked away from harm; another glance and it's clear Dogsbody will be stuck, unable to climb to safety. Helene is standing near the bookshelf, but Dogsbody is by the ladder, closer to the ramp to the mirror chamber. 

Words or deeds? There's no time to really think it through; Helene recognizes, on an instinctual level, that the time it takes to put words together and warn Dogsbody will detract from the time they can use to scramble to the ladder and up it. They can picture bolting, making it up the ladder, clinging for dear life; they can picture just as swiftly Dogsbody drowning, trapped in mud at the bottom of a duck pond. Unacceptable.

Frozen in place, they shove as much energy as they can into making words happen. A few brief seconds later, as the roaring grows louder, they manage to stammer, "R-r-run, the mirror room, ramp. Go!"

Not good enough. They take three stumbling steps toward the ladder, the rushing noise growing louder with each one. He doesn't understand. Help me, Dakesh, help me! But there's none of Dakesh's brash certainty now, only Helene's fear, their desperate need. Hawke. Be like Hawke. It's like a play: be Hawke the Hero. "Go!" they snap, pushing as much force into their voice as they can. "Up the ramp, now!"

They have just enough time to register that he's moving before the wall of water slams into the tiny entrance, the water rising a foot at a time in the small parlor. Their fingers almost manage to close on the ladder's rung before they're underwater, the swirling, brackish, dark water yanking them away from the ladder, spinning them about. 

This is how I die. I-- I don't want to. I like being Helene! I don't want to go, not yet! 

[Avato (Patchwork Bloke)]

"Mo gra!" The words are shrill and yet almost unheard due to the rushing water, the pounding in their head. The wet, furry body that presses against them in the water, the strangely proportioned hands that try to hold onto Helene but lack the strength to do so, are more noticeable. And likely just draw even more traumatic memories up, even as they help keep Helene alive for a few more seconds.

[Tethras Clan]

Hours, moments, days, minutes, seconds- but less than a lifetime- later, a pair of arms wrap around Helene and they feel themselves tugged sharply in a single direction. A few strokes alter, the small samsarn is pressed against metal rungs, then pushed upwards. As they gets out of the water, reaching the second floor, the hands let go. A look down reveals Zevran diving away from the ladder towards something or someone.

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene collapses, wet and shivering, onto the floor in the upper bedroom. They don't even have the strength to sob; they just tremble, in a pile of loose limbs and damp clothing, waiting for Zevran to come back. Please come back.

[Tethras Clan]

A full minute passes, then a little more, before there's a loud splash from below, followed by the sound of metal being slapped by wet flesh. Hauling himself out of the water and up the ladder is a struggle but Zevran is able to get his torso on the upper floor before needing to pause. "...guh," he says weakly.

[Helene Dakesh]

There's no hesitation; the moment he hits the floor, there's a small damp hand in his, clinging to him for dear life.

[Tethras Clan]

"'ullo," Zevran grunts, the touch giving him the motivation to finish pulling himself out of the accessway. "D-do you h-h-ave blankets? F-ffire?"

[Helene Dakesh]

Lamp oil. Blankets. There are-- these things are here. Helene can't bring themself to move, trembling violently. They keep holding Zevran's hand, desperate to convey some small comfort. We are together. You are not alone.