ph_logs | [Open] And I Pray My Worries Might Melt Away

Who: Drelasa and co.
What: Taking a dip at the hot springs at odd hours, in hopes of being able to do so without being seen by others
When: Start of August
Where: The hot springs
Warnings: Discussion of scars, body negativity, also there will be nudity

In the very early hours of the day, Drelasa Veloth makes her way to the hot springs. It's a cooler morning, a hint that the summer may be past its height, though it's hard to say what the day will bring, once the sun is up.

As she reaches the spring, she listens carefully for the sound of others, before being satisfied that she's alone. She takes off her mask, setting it on a nearby stone. Then, she carefully removes her dress, folds it, and sets it gently next to her mask. She takes off her smallclothes, and then, before stepping into the water, she takes a minute to run one hand along the length of the opposite arm. The results of Dr. Watson's surgical work are still holding up, for the most part, but she can already feel a little bit of swelling returning to her elbows- the 'sacraments' beginning to fill her body once again. She'll have to schedule another appointment.

As she slips into the water, she mutters a prayer of thanks to the Three and the Ehlnofey for the heat of the earth. Not that Azura, Boethia, or Mephala really have anything to do with geothermal phenomena, of course, but it's best not to leave them out. She reflects on what some of the older Ascended used to say back home: their kind and kin are blood of the Mountain, foyadas and lava ponds given flesh. Perhaps that's why she feels so at home in a hot spring; it's familiar to the point of feeling like it could be an extension of herself.

Drelasa starts to genuinely relax as she soaks, the nodules throughout her body softening and releasing their rock-hard tension. She's so relaxed, in fact, that she doesn't listen for newcomers.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"The former. My species is not well liked."

"Do you think your plans will be any different, once the barrier drops and you have a wider world to hide yourself away in?"

"I'm hopeful that the barrier dropping will allow my planeswalking to function again and I can simply return to my realm. As curious as I am about what's beyond this island, I don't have any desire to remain here."

“Because you have people you want to get away from, or because you have people you want to return to?”

She’s not sure what it is about Imbros that makes her so nosy- something about him just invites difficult questions, she supposes. And he tends to challenge her likewise, which is not pleasant, but it feels… healthy.

His annoyed hiss probably answers the question more than any words would.

"I'm not going to permanently die to Gith." Said all huffy like she should know what that means. "It's about my pride, and that Uhlsov said he was going to take all my things if I was dead when they came back."

She laughs.

"Ah, so it's Skadi logic." There's a pause, as she realizes the meaning of that might not be obvious.

"One of my traveling companions. Half of her strength seems to come, at times, from pure, unfettered spite, and another quarter comes from sheer stubbornness."

"It's something like that, yes." He's not entirely surprised that he's so transparent, but it's still irksome. "It's different here where no one knows who or what I am, but there ... yes I think I have something to prove."

"I am rather torn about the notion of returning. The spirits of my House need someone to guide them and remember them. So many of them are lost and scattered, and I've only begun to understand how to bring them peace. But... if, perhaps, I am able to work with them from here, then I can remain, and continue to build the life that I've made here. I think... I think I have more to prove here than there, or perhaps I'm more ready to prove myself."

Ah, finally they have an actual difference between them. "I wouldn't stay here given the chance. What I have to prove, is to people who are in my realm."

He's eager to get out of here, even if there is quite a substantial library.

"The spirits of you house? Do you mean that literally?"

She nods.

“The Dunmeri people observe a spiritual lineage, from the Daedra who existed before the formation of our world, to our distant ancestors, to the recently deceased, to the living. The dead keep their own society, but they answer the call of the living to aid as protectors. The living honor the dead, and, from the mortal world, do what they might through offerings and invocations to bless and keep the hallowed halls of the dead.

“My ancestors were disgraced, for no reason other that they shared a name with one who did not bend the knee to Morrowind’s Tribunal. As such, the halls of the dead are in disrepair, and the souls of my ancestors are still being gathered from their scattered state. Before I was brought here, I was learning how to call them home.”

He spends a few moments trying to parse what having ancestors is like. Family. A heritage. It's only mildly successful, while he did have those things before becoming an Illithid, that society was so ruthless and murderous that it could hardly be called a true family. Certainly there were house ties, there was the idea of a matrilinial heritage. But it was truly everyone for themselves. And the dead weren't revered, if they wanted to be revered they shouldn't have died.

So the idea of honoring them has never occurred to Imbros in all his centuries of life. At least not until he was introduced to the lanterns at the festival months ago.

"And this is something you want to do? What happens if you do not? Aren't they free to wander as they wish?"

"Of course it's something I want to do!" she exclaims, with more force and certainty than usual, clear passion rising in her voice.

"I worked to have these ancestors! The Tribunal scattered them and suppressed their heritage, and I grew up knowing nothing of the truth of my family line. Those who are left unmourned wander the seas of Oblivion, and the warp of the cosmos might eventually transform them into vengeful, hungry things. The House of the Dead is not a prison, it is a safe harbor and a place of identity within the turbulence of existence. All of us who were thralls of Dagoth Ur were so because he himself was lost and unmourned, risen to a hungry god through the power of the power the Tribunal greedily harnessed for themselves. And if I have no family waiting for me on the other side, I question whether or not I myself will be able to find rest."

He blinks at the sudden outpouring of passion, a feeling he's never experienced before. Certainly he loves research, and books, and knowledge - but it's really more an obsession than a passion, and he's wise enough to know the difference.

"I confess that I do not understand. My society does not have ancestors, and even before I was this - we did not revere them. The dead were simply dead. And seeing as I will live forever I never had cause to wonder what happens after death to those who will not." But he does understand that for her it's not a theoretical wondering, she has knowledge. Facts. And that's an entirely different thing. "So you both want to secure your ancestors for your identity and their own, but also to perhaps prevent another from becoming what enthralled you. I can see how that would be a driving motivation to ensure you can get back to them. Or to bring them here."

“We have thousands of years of wounds to heal. I don’t want to let any more time go to waste,” she nods.

“The first time I successfully called upon one of my ancestors, their relief over having that connection was, well… it’s hard to put into words, but I’ve never felt anything else like it.”

[Open] And I Pray My Worries Might Melt Away

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