Andlátkyn; Vandr Sanses unin Alagaësia

Taken

((This only late because I somehow slept through my alarm, lol!))

The Varden did not stay in the city after it was taken. Previously they would remain for several days while the switch of government took place, but this time Nasuada was eager to get them out. Perhaps she was urged by a similar sense of dread as the skeletons.

In a matter of hours, the monsters had removed the four great scattered piles of dust from the mad dragons that had perished and spread them out over the lake. The elves had entered the catacombs and retrieved Wyrden's body, taking it to a small hill by a creek where it was buried. They had planted an acorn and sung so mournfully that the world seemed to fall silent to listen, a great oak sprouting up and spreading its leafy branches high into the sky.

In that time, they had also searched through the tunnels in search of the belt of Beloth the Wise, but no trace of it was to be found. Even as the Varden departed from the city, leaving Martland Redbeard in charge, Blue, GB, Gaster, Eragon, Saphira and the elves remained for several more hours, if only to search.

The old scientist was desperate to occupy himself and make up for his own perceived failures, though he violently flinched and refused to approach any amethyst, often hindering himself because of it.

Eventually they had to abandon the search and rejoin the main body of the Varden. The belt was lost.
Or rather, taken.

On an island on the other side of Alagaësia and not-quite skeleton sat in a long broken fountain, wings soaking up the water as a belt of twelve gemstones rested in his lap, glowing softly.
An eerie mist flickering with aquamarine lights hung over the still water, pouring over the edge as the crystals pulsed, appearing almost alive.

The rules of death and rebirth must be broken to protect the innate balance of this world, and while impossible for most, some individuals had many ways to break their own rules.
It was easier when one of those individuals was still broken himself.

. • ° ° • .

The Varden around them was setting up camp, dwarves, humans, sometimes Urgals striding about with purpose as they readied for the night, cookfires being lit. A humanoid Temmie was prancing about, dancing to the ukulele the skeleton nearby strummed, laughing and singing a tune from a world now far away.

In a wide clearing amid the tents stood a not-quite tree, lower, leafless branches curving around their body and anchoring into the ground like roots while the other two rose up and soaked up the sun, casting leafy shadows that Horror sat in, chatting in subdued tones with the treeskeleton.
A four-armed child sat in his lap, outstretched like a lazy feline as he listened.

In another section of the Varden, Dance was living up to the name while Lust tried to best him, proving to be shockingly adept as Red, Beats, Color, After and GB cheered from the sidelines, Draco a standing monolith that was grinning in amusement, sharing small talk with Bird.

There was a note of desperation clinging to the casual air, a fear growing from a feeling they all shared, and it seemed that much of the Varden sensed that unease, shoulders tense and eyes casting about for hidden danger. A smile dropping, a shiver in the broad daylight, the feeling of one's hair on end.

Drinks were pulled out then, and as the day shifted into the night, men stumbled to their tents.
Deities whispered warnings, far more attuned to the flow of things and the pulse of magic than any other, knowing, seeing, sensing the looming threat.
Hardly anyone could fall asleep that night.

. • °

Alter and Gaster were both awake when it happened, staring up at the new stars in the sky in companionable silence when the relative peace was shattered.
A roar bellowed into the night, and they both flinched and turned to see a wave of stars approaching from the north, except they came in pairs, every last one of them.