[He does look disarmingly human, if a tall and striking one, except for the eyes. The moment she turns to meet his gaze, they swirl with the colors of a coral reef, alien and alive. He straightens a bit, grin broadening, earrings swinging in the wind.]
Much better.
[Around them alone, the gale seems to stop, as though they themselves--two small bodies on the deck of the Omen--could be the eye of the storm. Sheyd tosses his head, whipping his untamed ponytail of dark hair off his shoulder.]
I want what all my kind want--everything. Power. Dominion. And-- [His eyes gleam again, an almost glowing, eager blue-green.] --the thrill of knowing the unknown. And freedom, adventure, and glory!
[He lets her go--his magic won't let her fall, not here at the height of this drama--and steps back into rain that can't touch him, into wind that barely ruffles his open-necked, billowing shirt.]
So yes! Hurl aside everything that chains you to what came before. Cast aside the land itself, if it weighs down your feet. And show me where you fly. Be my vessel--carry me whence you go, take me beyond what binds me now--and you will have my power and my protection. [After a bit of a pause, he smirks and points at the demon ahead.] And this is just a suggestion, but we could start with her.
[With one step, he returns to the column of stilled, expectant air where he left her and lifts a hand just short of touching her face.]
I, Sheyd Yam HaZahav, witnessed by sea and storm, hereby cut this covenant with you. If you accept the terms laid out, seal it with your name.
[ It almost seems too good to be true. You don't sell a demon anything you couldn't live without – and even the things you can cleanly give up could always come back to haunt you. Eyes, voice, heart, any of those would be a better offer to make than something as vague and all encompassing as her future, especially when she's just barely begun to shape it herself.
But when he says it like that, it doesn't sound like a payment. It sounds nothing at all like being chained to a contract without any hope of ever being freed from it. It sounds like being given wings.
And isn't that all she's ever wanted? ]
... yes. The terms more than suit.
[ Despite herself, she feels a smile start to take over her face and her heart feels like it's skipping alternate beats. This feeling she knows all too well, the excitement of knowing that whatever comes after this will be something new, something dangerous and– well. An adventure.
She clasps both hands around the ring at her neck, like a prayer. Now there really is no going back. ]
I seal the contract with my name. With everything else thrown away, all I have left is... Annaliese.
[For a strange, charged moment, the column of stillness seems to expand, as if suspending the whole ship outside of time.]
Annaliese.
[Sheyd repeats the name with relish, rolling each syllable over his tongue. As he does so, a light coalesces in his eyes, brightening them to a glowing, living, seaside green. They take in her smile eagerly, hungrily, and when he answers, his voice is low with pleasure.]
Yes. Let it be so.
[His thumb grazes her soft, pale cheek.
In an instant, the wind turns. It fills the Omen’s sails quickly enough for the canvas to sound a magnificent snap. The sailors shout in surprise and awe as the storm they’d just been fighting blesses them instead with a powerful tailwind, propelling them forward across death’s waves. At the same time, light like sun on gold wreathes both Sheyd and Annaliese, outlining where they now connect. Physically. Magically.
Sheyd’s right eye in particular shines brighter as he smiles and steps back.]
You’ve the devil’s own luck now, my Annaliese.
[Ursula, the demoness ahead, recoils as she realizes something’s changed without her noticing. The rain howls, sleeting almost horizontally at the ship, but the wind working against her weakens the onslaught. All the while, the ship thrusts towards her like a javelin—except that it continues to pick up speed.]
[ For a moment, all Annaliese can see is that piercing ocean green. With everything frozen and still around them, she feels as though it's that light filling her lungs rather than the air that had been tossing the ship from side to side. It lasts for just a split second, just in the pause you take between breaths, just long enough for her to wonder if any of that beautiful light might show itself in her eyes, too.
Then everything smashes back into motion with a dreamlike immediacy. The noise of the rain, the sea, the crewmen around her is almost deafening but Annaliese feels unnervingly steady. As though not a thing in the world could frighten her anymore. If a beast of the sea this powerful can be bested, then what else could possibly stand in her way?
The ship screams on ahead but Annaliese is calm as she takes in the sheer size of the obstacle in their way. After a moment to breath and steady herself she once again turns to face him. ]
Even for a beast of this size, it would be quite the odds to strike her directly in the heart, would it not? Even with the surest aim, fortune plays some role in a battle as chaotic as this.
[ Just as Sheyd had done, Annaliese lifts her hand – but then offers it, palm up, in the manner of someone requesting a partner to dance with. ]
So might I ask for your assistance in making it so?
[Isn’t she a thrill, this golden girl, all flax, honey, silk, and nicety pillowing a jewel of ruthlessness he almost missed amid its setting. Hard as diamond, that. And as brilliant.
It’s charming, her invitation to dance, in the way that dolls and miniatures are charming. She cannot conceive of how small, how powerless, how inconsequential a thing she seems to him, the very stuff of brevity, here and gone in a blink. How absurd her gesture is, as though she has any power with which to sway the wind. Yet, she does. In their compact, in the painfully fleeting, bright burn of mortal life, in her unexpected brutality, she allures him. He finds he wants more of her and does not regret the desire.
Amused, Sheyd takes what she offers, laying a solid, long-fingered hand lightly over hers. His skin feels strikingly warm despite the ocean spray. Almost searing.]
To such delightful ends? Gladly.
[Sheyd wraps his fingers around hers, eyes a kaleidoscope gleam, and then faces the prow. His free hand shoots forward. With a surge of power around and beneath them, so does the Omen. His eye burns brighter and brighter, though his grin betrays nothing but eagerness and the pure joy of freefall.
Ahead, the demoness howls in her native tongue, a language human ears were not shaped to catch, though some study it. It probably goes something to the tune of, “SHEYD, YOU MOTHERF***ING DIPSH**!!”
In response, he laughs, and responds in the same Abyssal language, in his voice like sun-warmed sand and merciless summer:]
<Bad luck, bitch!>
[Ursula and Sheyd have both committed their magic. She can no more move out of the storm than he can end it. And so the Omen plows straight into her, plunging its bowsprit deeply and improbably into her chest, causing her to dissolve into shrieks and wild, dangerous, aimless waves.
The sea no longer claws at the ship with purpose. The depths no longer seek to claim its husk for their own. Without pause, the crew adjusts to the difference and continues its work to make fast the ship, keep her afloat, keep her keel steady.
Sheyd smiles at Annaliese over her hand, then bows to kiss her knuckles. The molten-gold glow has gone from his eyes, and one he now keeps closed.]
Annaliese. [Her name in his mouth still tastes sweet.] Was the work to your liking?
[ Once more, the Omen leaps under their feet like she intends to throw her passengers from the deck. The question of whether the ship is even built to withstand speeds like this passes through her mind but the moment the thought forms, she dismisses it. It will hold – because without a ship, without a weapon, there's nothing to pierce through the heart of the storm. And that much she will do. She doesn't let herself feel any fear or hesitation, focusing instead on the warm hand enveloping her own frozen fingers. The noise is like no din she's ever heard before. It screams in her ears and batters against her but she finds that the sound filling her chest isn't the howling and screaming of the waves but the wild laugh of the man whose hand she's still holding onto.
Though it's through no sense she can name, Annaliese feels it when everything turns. The storm doesn't break, but it splinters into something less pointed, less calculating and she realizes with a dull thud that this had been her doing. Yes, with help but – she had been the one to make it so, hadn't she? For a second she feels loose and unmoored, the enormity of the moment sending her spinning off into the storm-blackened sky. She has the wild thought that the leftover winds might pick her up and sweep her away.
Then an errant wave crashes over the deck and the shocking cold of it washes over her feet. She turns to Sheyd just in time to feel the warm brush of his lips against her hand and that combined with the warmth with which he says her name makes her heart feel somehow loose and anchored in her chest all at the same time.
She opens her mouth to respond – but what comes shaking out of her instead of words is a breathless, disbelieving laugh. ]
To my liking– [ She sweeps her storm-tangled hair back from her face so she can gaze up at him. Her eyes are wild and overbright, just like the smile she's struggling to keep under control. ] Yes! It was– incredible, unbelievable, to think I could have ever–
[ Another gasping laugh interrupts her and before trying to speak again, she dips her head, offering her best approximation of a curtsey that she can manage while one-handed and so bedraggled by storm and sea. ]
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no subject
Much better.
[Around them alone, the gale seems to stop, as though they themselves--two small bodies on the deck of the Omen--could be the eye of the storm. Sheyd tosses his head, whipping his untamed ponytail of dark hair off his shoulder.]
I want what all my kind want--everything. Power. Dominion. And-- [His eyes gleam again, an almost glowing, eager blue-green.] --the thrill of knowing the unknown. And freedom, adventure, and glory!
[He lets her go--his magic won't let her fall, not here at the height of this drama--and steps back into rain that can't touch him, into wind that barely ruffles his open-necked, billowing shirt.]
So yes! Hurl aside everything that chains you to what came before. Cast aside the land itself, if it weighs down your feet. And show me where you fly. Be my vessel--carry me whence you go, take me beyond what binds me now--and you will have my power and my protection. [After a bit of a pause, he smirks and points at the demon ahead.] And this is just a suggestion, but we could start with her.
[With one step, he returns to the column of stilled, expectant air where he left her and lifts a hand just short of touching her face.]
I, Sheyd Yam HaZahav, witnessed by sea and storm, hereby cut this covenant with you. If you accept the terms laid out, seal it with your name.
no subject
But when he says it like that, it doesn't sound like a payment. It sounds nothing at all like being chained to a contract without any hope of ever being freed from it. It sounds like being given wings.
And isn't that all she's ever wanted? ]
... yes. The terms more than suit.
[ Despite herself, she feels a smile start to take over her face and her heart feels like it's skipping alternate beats. This feeling she knows all too well, the excitement of knowing that whatever comes after this will be something new, something dangerous and– well. An adventure.
She clasps both hands around the ring at her neck, like a prayer. Now there really is no going back. ]
I seal the contract with my name. With everything else thrown away, all I have left is... Annaliese.
no subject
Annaliese.
[Sheyd repeats the name with relish, rolling each syllable over his tongue. As he does so, a light coalesces in his eyes, brightening them to a glowing, living, seaside green. They take in her smile eagerly, hungrily, and when he answers, his voice is low with pleasure.]
Yes. Let it be so.
[His thumb grazes her soft, pale cheek.
In an instant, the wind turns. It fills the Omen’s sails quickly enough for the canvas to sound a magnificent snap. The sailors shout in surprise and awe as the storm they’d just been fighting blesses them instead with a powerful tailwind, propelling them forward across death’s waves. At the same time, light like sun on gold wreathes both Sheyd and Annaliese, outlining where they now connect. Physically. Magically.
Sheyd’s right eye in particular shines brighter as he smiles and steps back.]
You’ve the devil’s own luck now, my Annaliese.
[Ursula, the demoness ahead, recoils as she realizes something’s changed without her noticing. The rain howls, sleeting almost horizontally at the ship, but the wind working against her weakens the onslaught. All the while, the ship thrusts towards her like a javelin—except that it continues to pick up speed.]
How would you like to use it?
[Matt Mercer voice: How do you want to do this?]
no subject
Then everything smashes back into motion with a dreamlike immediacy. The noise of the rain, the sea, the crewmen around her is almost deafening but Annaliese feels unnervingly steady. As though not a thing in the world could frighten her anymore. If a beast of the sea this powerful can be bested, then what else could possibly stand in her way?
The ship screams on ahead but Annaliese is calm as she takes in the sheer size of the obstacle in their way. After a moment to breath and steady herself she once again turns to face him. ]
Even for a beast of this size, it would be quite the odds to strike her directly in the heart, would it not? Even with the surest aim, fortune plays some role in a battle as chaotic as this.
[ Just as Sheyd had done, Annaliese lifts her hand – but then offers it, palm up, in the manner of someone requesting a partner to dance with. ]
So might I ask for your assistance in making it so?
no subject
It’s charming, her invitation to dance, in the way that dolls and miniatures are charming. She cannot conceive of how small, how powerless, how inconsequential a thing she seems to him, the very stuff of brevity, here and gone in a blink. How absurd her gesture is, as though she has any power with which to sway the wind. Yet, she does. In their compact, in the painfully fleeting, bright burn of mortal life, in her unexpected brutality, she allures him. He finds he wants more of her and does not regret the desire.
Amused, Sheyd takes what she offers, laying a solid, long-fingered hand lightly over hers. His skin feels strikingly warm despite the ocean spray. Almost searing.]
To such delightful ends? Gladly.
[Sheyd wraps his fingers around hers, eyes a kaleidoscope gleam, and then faces the prow. His free hand shoots forward. With a surge of power around and beneath them, so does the Omen. His eye burns brighter and brighter, though his grin betrays nothing but eagerness and the pure joy of freefall.
Ahead, the demoness howls in her native tongue, a language human ears were not shaped to catch, though some study it. It probably goes something to the tune of, “SHEYD, YOU MOTHERF***ING DIPSH**!!”
In response, he laughs, and responds in the same Abyssal language, in his voice like sun-warmed sand and merciless summer:]
<Bad luck, bitch!>
[Ursula and Sheyd have both committed their magic. She can no more move out of the storm than he can end it. And so the Omen plows straight into her, plunging its bowsprit deeply and improbably into her chest, causing her to dissolve into shrieks and wild, dangerous, aimless waves.
The sea no longer claws at the ship with purpose. The depths no longer seek to claim its husk for their own. Without pause, the crew adjusts to the difference and continues its work to make fast the ship, keep her afloat, keep her keel steady.
Sheyd smiles at Annaliese over her hand, then bows to kiss her knuckles. The molten-gold glow has gone from his eyes, and one he now keeps closed.]
Annaliese. [Her name in his mouth still tastes sweet.] Was the work to your liking?
no subject
Though it's through no sense she can name, Annaliese feels it when everything turns. The storm doesn't break, but it splinters into something less pointed, less calculating and she realizes with a dull thud that this had been her doing. Yes, with help but – she had been the one to make it so, hadn't she? For a second she feels loose and unmoored, the enormity of the moment sending her spinning off into the storm-blackened sky. She has the wild thought that the leftover winds might pick her up and sweep her away.
Then an errant wave crashes over the deck and the shocking cold of it washes over her feet. She turns to Sheyd just in time to feel the warm brush of his lips against her hand and that combined with the warmth with which he says her name makes her heart feel somehow loose and anchored in her chest all at the same time.
She opens her mouth to respond – but what comes shaking out of her instead of words is a breathless, disbelieving laugh. ]
To my liking– [ She sweeps her storm-tangled hair back from her face so she can gaze up at him. Her eyes are wild and overbright, just like the smile she's struggling to keep under control. ] Yes! It was– incredible, unbelievable, to think I could have ever–
[ Another gasping laugh interrupts her and before trying to speak again, she dips her head, offering her best approximation of a curtsey that she can manage while one-handed and so bedraggled by storm and sea. ]
Thank you...!