Mairèad, Lorcan, and Shepard: June 21

Mairèad has barely dismounted her gryphon before she's already moving at a decent clip toward the inn, sparing a glance towards the barracks and up at Tirion's statue on the way.

Shepard has been following the entire time, quiet and focused, eyes on the ground as he murmurs this or that to himself.

Once they've reached the room at the top of the stairs, Mairèad doesn't even bother knocking on the door. "We're back," she calls out to Lorcan, who is pacing the room in an unbuttoned shirt, going frantically over various papers and notes. He looks up at Mairèad and Shepard's entrance. "Took you long enough," he grumbles, brushing at his face, which is blotchy and tear-stained. "What do you need, Shepard? I'll get it for you."

The worgen glances over everything in the room, ears flicking in thought. "--quiet," he begins. "And something of Chadley's. A personal item, a lock of hair, anything to help trace him for the scrying ritual. I'll also need a large bowl of water."

Lorcan hurries off towards the bathroom, returning a moment later with a basin filled nearly to the brim with water, which he sets on the floor. As for an item of Chadley's, he hands over an ancient, mold-ridden shield with the Silver Hand's symbol. "It belonged to him in Southshore, and was sent to him recently by his mother," Lorcan explains weakly, sinking down on the bed. Mairèad, meanwhile, leans against the doorpost silently, her eyelights flickering far dimmer than usual.

Shepard doesn't waste time with setting up the ritual; he removes a small satchel of arcane-infused dust, sprinkling it across the floor into small piles, drawing runes and symbols onto the surface. The bowl is placed just above, and the shield just in the center. "The bowl is for outsider viewing," he murmurs as he continues going over the fine details. "I won't be able to communicate during the process, so be ready to write down everything you see."

Lorcan stands up again, staggering to his desk and fumbling about for parchment and a pen with ink. He plants himself on the floor next to the bowl of water, pen at the ready. Mairèad also moves closer so that she can see the bowl better. "Ready when you are," Lorcan says.

Shepard eases himself to the floor, his eyes trained on the shield. A low chant begins to leave his lips, the runes and symbols flickering to life, the energies filling the room and humming softly. Eventually, the worgen's eyes cloud over with Arcane mists.

Mairèad starts some, a hand jerking towards Shepard and then falling back to her side, curled into a fist. Lorcan, meanwhile, leans over the bowl of water, watching it for any signs of life or change or anything but a normal bowl of water.

The pool of wate begins to ripple and churn, sloshing against the container's sides--but then everything calms, and images begin to appear. Dead trees, broken bodies, the shadows of worgen running through the wilds. Forsaken banners are draped over horrible, metal-wrought buildings. The stream of sight soon arrives at an old cabin, pauses, then rockets forward through the doorway. It's dark, except for the occasional flash of demonic eyes and flesh. The train continues chugging ahead until the main attraction appears: Adeline, in all her grotesque glory.

Lorcan scribbles away at all of the images, even adding sketchy illustrations on the side in case there's any question. Mairèad remains completely silent, though she jerks again when Adeline appears, an exhale of pain echoing in her helm. Lorcan glances up at her and then back at the image in the bowl before darting his eyes over towards Shepard, almost expectantly.

Adeline's visage twists and turns, as if looking through the window to those on the other side. Shepard's brows furrow, his head tilts, and a bead of sweat runs down the side of his face. But he continues on in search of Chadley.

Mairèad gasps at this and then covers her helm with both hands, as if to keep further sound from escaping. Lorcan, meanwhile, continues to write furiously, the only other sound in the room being the scratch of his pen on the paper.

And that's where the trail ends: with Chadley, bound, a shield of Light enveloping him--his saving grace. The man's face is a mixture of terror and hate.

Now it's Lorcan's turn to make a pained sound, his pen tearing through the paper. Mairèad remains silent, though she nods at the image, almost as if in encouragement, even though there's no way Chadley can see or hear her.

It's then that the image jerks, as if battered, almost fizzlng out completely--but it holds. It swivels around to view Adeline one again, shaking and beginning to break. The water is beginning to violently splash and leak from the basin, and Shepard's grip on his knees is approaching a death grip. The flurry of sights retreats to the outside world, soaring higher and higher to offer a bird's eye view of the area. And that's when the spell breaks entirely. The worgen gasps and reels back. He's a sweating mess.

Mairèad drops to her knees and reaches out for Shepard, a blessing bursting out before she even thinks about it. Lorcan, meanwhile, finishes his writing and presses his hand to his forehead. "That was Silverpine. Wasn't it? Silverpine?" Mairèad nods, eyelights flickering as she does so. "It looked like Silverpine t'me. And it looks like he's keepin' hisself safe pretty good."

Shepard nods, at a loss of breath, eventually flopping onto his back unceremoniously. "Si-Silverpine," he murmurs. "Home. Rem-remember it well." The blessing helps him enough to speak, at least.

Mairèad shifts around, still reaching for Shepard and trying to hold him up a little better than what's happened. Lorcan, on the other hand, has already jumped to his feet. "What are we waiting for, then? We should head out now."

"Don't be dumb," Mairèad answers quietly. "We ent headin' into Fersakin territory in th'dead 'a night."

Shepard, with Mairead's help, manages to sit up enough to regard Lorcan. "She'll... she'll be expecting us to rush in," he says. "Acting on emotion rather than thought. We need- need to plan. Prepare."

Lorcan starts to make an angry protest, but eventually just throws his hands up and pushes away from the bowl of water, spilling some of it on the floor. "I'm going outside," he announces, as if that's a thing. And he slams the door behind him. -

Mairèad remains quiet for a while after Lorcan's gone, still holding onto Shepard, almost mindlessly.

Shepard's strength is- questionable, at the moment, and he slumps against Mairead with a tired sigh. "Perhaps you should go after him," he mumbles.

Mairèad shakes her head, not moving from her current position. "He jest goes out to th'front stoop and drinks," she says quietly, distractedly. "He ent gunna do nothin' stupid. If nothin' else, he knows his own limits."

"Love," he murmurs. "Can make us do stupid things." Shepard's eyes drift shut, his body losing the will to remain tense. "Are you alright?"

Mairèad shakes her head again, though she says, "Ent got time to be anythin' but a'right. I can't fall apart. Not when he needs me. I'll fall apart when it's over."

"I think you can allow yourself something, Mair. You might as well let it out now, and go with a clearer mind."

Mairèad laughs, though it's a humorless sound. "I can't do that," she repeats. "I don't -wanna- do that. I-- if I fall apart now, I can't think of a plan, me mind stops bein' clear, and I start panickin'. And then when it's all over, then I can lose it and scream and cry, and I'll come do that on you, okay?"

"If that's what you want."

Mairèad grunts in response to this and removes her helm, letting her hair stick up on all sides. She's white as a sheet, her freckles standing out in sharp relief against her features. "What I want is to be yer wife," she answers quietly. "But I need to grow up before I can be th'wife you deserve... or, rilly, that anyone deserves."

Shepard coughs, his entire body shaking from the effort, a groan lodged in his throat. "What I deserve," he says quietly. "Is happiness. You make me happy--imperfections and all."

Mairèad sighs and closes her eyes. "Then I need to grow up fer me. 'Cause if I don't, I won't be happeh. And I will hurt you. I dunno if I'd be unfaithful. I don't think I would. But I know I'd cause you pain."

"Do what you need to, love..." Shepard mumbles. "But I know where my patience ends, and now, so do you. So that's a step."

Despite herself, Mairèad lets out a small laugh. "I'm jest glad to see that yer still human and not some... weird illusion Shepard sent to try'n make me happeh while th'rill you's off doin' dragon shit."

"You're my wife," he groans. "Sue me if I get testy when I hear the words 'unfaithful' and 'gonna be' together.--don't actually sue me. That'd make the situation worse."

Mairèad looks at Shepard curiously, though her eyes have a bit of a devilish gleam to them. "-Do- you have any money I could nick away from you?" she asks before breaking into a tired sort of smile.

Shepard's eyes flutter open. He stares at Mairead with as tired of a look as her smile. "Woman. The only thing you'd get is a giant dick-slap."