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[dirth]

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

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FEN'HAREL

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text ; un: bugs ; breaks open this inbox with cryptic shit

[honorism]

Stay warm.

Don't feed the hungry guest.

[dirth]

There are newcomers?

[honorism]

No.

They've always been here.

[Presumably, in the crypt]

And they do not belong with us.

I will stay in the library.

[dirth]

I see.

Your brother. The protective one. He will care for you?

[honorism]

[She thinks about it a moment]

Yes, I believe so. But if there is an opportunity to fight, he will take it. He's been without for too long.

[Well, without an opportunity to just go wild fighting things that maybe aren't Daemond, but Helaena doesn't really know]

But I will be safe.

[dirth]

Take care of yourself beyond anything else, Helaena. And watch your family.

[honorism]

When it is safe again, let's watch the stars together once more.

text ❖ @orchid ❖ backdated pre-event

[wines]

[ No point beating around the bush, really, since Solas and Emmrich did have this conversation where anyone could see it on the network. ]

So! You and Emmrich know each other in my future.

I thought you looked even balder than usual.

[dirth]

I did not take the professor for a gossip.

[wines]

He's irritatingly close-lipped about this particular thing, actually, but I saw your correspondence about Weisshaupt and Elgar'nan on his recent post and put two and two together.

[dirth]

Ah.

I suppose you have questions.

[wines]

Isn't that the understatement of the century.

Last I saw you, we'd just dealt with the business at the Winter Palace.

How many years has it been?

[dirth]

Since we last met? Ten.

[wines]

[ Give him a second while his brain explodes. ]

I'm sorry, did you spell that right? Ten? Ten years?

[ He'll get to the implications of since we last met in a minute. ]

[dirth]

[ He can even hear it in Dorian's voice. ]

It's a long time, yes.

[wines]

I don't even know where to begin. Or whether I should ask if I'm still alive and kicking, in ten years' time.

text; un: bugs / forwarded dated after the zombies have bit the dust badumtish

[honorism]

[When peace and quiet finally reigns, though before the electricity and the central heating have fully come back, Helaena starts doing head counts. Her family has come out of this largely unscathed it seems, thank god. Halsin is missing, which is concerning, and there are others, gone for now. They'll return. She doesn't need her powers to establish that, though she's grateful when she can sense they've returned.

Things are returning to normal.]

Solas? Are you in the manor?

[He's one of the only ones she hasn't set eyes on yet, though she hasn't heard anyone proclaim him lost to the zombies either.]

[dirth]

[ Solas has, at least, survived - which, it seems, is more than can be said for many other guests in this place. He has not quite found himself back to his room, hiding away in the depths of one of the places he had found himself during his escapes, and there's a soft tinge of relief as he picks up his phone to send Helaena a reply. ]

I am, yes. I found an abandoned room to hide myself in. Are you well? Unharmed?

[honorism]

[The relief is palpable. It leaves her in a rush of breath and she closes her eyes a moment. Almost everyone she's warned has come out of this alive, her dreams can help and do some good.]

Where? I want to see you and make sure for myself.

[She starts wandering off down the halls that somehow seem more alien to her when not too long ago they had been feeling like home. She'd spent one month getting used to them and memorizing the corridors, and then one month hiding away from them.]

Please.

[dirth]

[ It's sweet, her concern for him, and he wastes no time in responding. ]

South of the hallway with the bedrooms. I will step out to greet you.

[honorism]

[She puts her phone clumsily into her pocket and speed walks down the halls, trying to recall the layout of the place now, knowledge that hadn't seemed that important when she'd confined herself to just one room. But she finds it, at length, and smiles immediately upon spying him]

Solas! [She calls out to him, picking up speed, grabbing her skirts so they wouldn't hinder her as she runs to him. When she gets close, she drops her hold just so she can throw her arms around him in relieved delight] You're really still you!

[dirth]

[ Solas can say that he is a touch surprised by the intensity of her reaction.

Helaena throws herself into his arms and he catches her, of course, drawing her close and lifting a hand to tuck her into his body. It’s a relief to see her well, too, that’s undeniable, and something soft overtakes him as he leans back to get a better look at her, head tilted.

She looks healthy enough, and his smile is softer, on the edge of warm. ]

Did you imagine I had become something else altogether?

[honorism]

[She has the decency to blush as he catches her, as the awareness of everything comes back to her. There is no one there to see, no servants or family or retainers to tut and whisper and cluck like hens at her behavior. It's all too easy to forget herself and her station here, where there is nothing and no one to actually rule over.

Embarrassed, but still smiling, she laughs shortly] You could have been. If you were bitten before they fell, if you were trying to hide it. You could have been someone else. But you're here, and you're you, just as I hoped you would be.

[dirth]

I was not bitten, I assure you. I wouldn’t allow you to be in such danger.

[ They may not have an audience, that’s true, but Solas doesn’t necessarily want to risk it either. Keeping her close, he turns to guide her into the room, letting one of his hands fall to find hers. ]

Your warning before was appropriate, I think. Thank you.

✉️ text — un: ev, cw suicide.

[volkarin]

Solas,

I write to you now as a friend, in thanks for your previous assistance and in the selfish hope that you may see fit to aid me once again.

When you read this, I will be dead. Worry not (or, I suppose, not too much), as my death, such as it is, is of my own choosing. You will have seen, I expect, the missive that Miss Starkov posted to the network. She said herself that she can't be certain if the ritual she performed will work again, but if there is a way of lifting the effects of the separation of one's soul from one's body, then it is what I owe to this place, these people, to study it. Yet I cannot in good conscience ask for those who have already suffered to suffer yet again, giving their blood to me for an entire turning of the moon for the sake of what could be nothing — hence my brief departure, now. (Brief, should all go well.)

But the ritual is not why I've written to you. We now know, of course, of the cycle of resurrection. I wished to ask if you would assist in ensuring this occurs as quickly as possible, as I cannot be sure of the state in which I will return to you, and would rather not risk further casualties in the time before my soul is returned to me. I have asked Dorian for the same, in the event that the two of you might find it easier to complete such a task together.

I understand that this is a bold request to make of a spirit such as yourself, especially given our rather brief friendship (is it too bold, to term us friends?), but there are precious few here upon whom I can so rely. I hope you'll see fit to take pity on an old fool.

Ever yours,
Emmrich Volkarin