2019-11-05 - East of the Sun

Lemondrop, brilliant white and yellow reticulated python, dozes in a coiled heap half-buried in the substrate at the bottom of her enclosure. Itzhak is happily lecturing Isolde on the habits of big snakes. "There's no winter where her ancestors come from, but all reptiles got a thermoregulator built in and they know when it's cold. That's why they're so adapatable and they can survive near any-damn-where. So she knows it's cold, and she's gonna brumate, which is kinda like hibernation. I'll feed her up, if she'll eat, sometimes she doesn't, and lower the temperature in her tank. Sometimes people put them in, like, wine refrigerators, but obviously I'm not gonna do that. I'd have to put her in an entire cellar, for one thing." Hope Isolde wanted to hear a whole lot about brumation, because that's what's happening!

Isolde is more than happy to listen about big snakes and brumation even though most of it's totally all going over her head. "Shes' so pretty!" Her voice was a hushed whisper as if she didn't want to wake Lemondrop up. "I'm glad I finally got to meet her. Can I touch her? When she's like this? I don't wanna startle her." She looked up to Itzhak. She also didn't want to get a snake bite before venturing back into the Veil! "I can totally see her ruling a basement one day. " Giving him another grin. She had a small backpack with her with a few supplies in it 'just in case'. Flashlights, a flare, one of those thin fleece blankets. It was getting colder after all. So it was probably cold Veil side too!

Itzhak is a lot less sensible than Isolde and has just kinda figured he'll cope with whatever happens. He has so far, after all. Grinning back at Isolde, looking down at her with open adoration, he's about to say something else and--oh no. Ohhhh no. He hears the raccoon and he realizes she's got his phone, although he's not looking at her. He just can sense his phone now, and he can sense when it's in danger.

"Izeleh, that fershtunken raccoon is over there," he says, trying not to yell, and definitely trying not to whip around and charge across the garage at the critter. "Can you, uh, can you talk her down maybe?"

Isolde has, presumably, at least heard mention of the raccoon. Her eyes widen when he says the raccoon is there right now! She follows the noises up and up...to that fershtunken raccoon. Awe, it's kind of cute! Isolde does have a soft spot for animals. She wonders if she can talk to it like Alexander talks to Blue Bell sometimes. Did he talk to her? It sounded like he had at least once or twice when he was telling her some about the Violet situation. She took a few cautious steps around Itzhak, closer to the raccoon. "Hey there cute and fluffy..." She said, keeping her voice soft, quiet.

Unlike the previous two times when Itzhak shouted at her and came running, at Isolde's approach and soft voice, the raccoon doesn't grab the phone and make for the hills. She pauses in her fiddling, tilts her head, and regards Isolde with wide, dark eyes. Curiosity eminates from her; she could be spun from it in her entirety. She's not a young raccoon by any means, but neither is she old. She's huge for her kind, though, and unlike the first time Itzhak saw her, not pregnant. Just big.

Itzhak is dying over here. DYING. His phone, oy vey izt mir! He turns around slow, a hilarious jaw-clenched expression of repressed angry anxiety on his face. One hasty move from that raccoon and he's gonna pop. "I can't believe I was worried about her," he growls. "Okay, okay she's not running..."

Isolde smiled a little when the Raccoon paused. Her own curiosity in the creature reflecting back. "How did you get here?" She asked it, glancing towards Itzhak again briefly and then back to the Raccoon, attempting to take another few cautious steps forward. "I'll bet you like that cause it's so shiny huh?" Though she's focusing on the raccoon, she attempts to reach out towards Itzhak - to try and share her emotions with him - calm, like everything's going to be okay.

That's what phone cases are for! But let's be honest here, if it wasn't for Isolde's presence, Itzhak would absolutely be further cementing his cacophonous image. The cool touch of her mind soothes him, just seeing her soothes him. Watching the raccoon with laser intensity, he catches a glimpse of the pearly scale and his eyes widen. "That's... that's just like what I saw in my dream," he murmurs, voice going tight and intense.

Well, the phone is safe! That's important and Isolde might have further questions - but she sees the scale. "I saw it too...Where did you get that from?" She tries to keep her voice even still but there's just the slightest hint of a waver to it. A teetering of excitement and adrenaline. She lifts her wrist carefully, the one that has her frog charm bracelet. It's got a mismash of charms on it - but there's a few that are particularly shiny. "Could I..have that, for this?" Trying to negotiate some kind of trade off - pointing to one of her own charms. Though she had no idea if it would actually come across.

Itzhak is looking at Isolde like she might be magic. "Wow," he whispers, not wanting to break the spell. How does she do that?! Well, she tamed his wild tuchis, didn't she? At least a little. He doesn't dare move; he knows animals remember things, and he knows he's made a bad impression on the raccoon. But he's already making plans to replace the charm Isolde gives up for the scale.

Victory! Isolde tries very hard to keep calm as she takes the charm off and then very slowly hands out the charm. Very, slowly. And then it's done! Unless the raccoon tries to be funny about it. She will take the scale and offer up the charm. "Thank you. Very, very much." She gave it a bright smile and then looked to Itzhak, also taking the opportunity to pick up his phone if she was able.

Itzhak makes himself wait until the raccoon has shuffled her fat ass out of his garage. He's learned something today. Then he's striding over to Isolde, fast on those long legs, sweeping her up in a hug. "Are you a wizard? I think you might be a wizard!" He kisses her, grinning in delight, and looks at the scale. "Yeah. That looks exactly like the, uh, the person I saw in my dream. The one Pwill said is still a prisoner."

Isolde holds the scale close, a breathless sort of gasp leaving her as those latent emotions from the scale start to hit her. And then Itzhak is hugging her. It's a delayed sort of reaction as she hugs Itzhak back tightly, looking at the scale in her hand and giggles a bit. "I dunno, ain't we all wizards?" She murmured, a little distracted as her grip on the scale tightened.

Isolde clings to Itzhak a little tighter as the visions flash over her mind and Pwill's voice teases in her ear. It takes another few seconds for the redhead to collect herself. "It was Pwill." She looked up to Itzhak. "He sent the scale to us. We have to...to cross the border. Find him. He'll tell us what we need to know." Her eyes were wide. "This...this thing...I saw. The thing you saw too...he knows all about these."

"Ehhhh you gotta good point." Itzhak nuzzles into Isolde's hair, arms around her. He can be a little weird about smelling her, and he's doing that now, inhaling her scent while she reads the emotional impressions on the scale. His eyes have drifted close, but he opens them again, eyebrows popping up. "No shit. Pwill, you maniac." Itzhak cups Isolde's hand that holds the scale, looking down at it. Then he glances at her, grinning with all the mischief in his bristly little soul. "You wanna go say hi?"

Isolde doesn't mind it one bit - the nuzzling or the smelling. Scents are important! Isolde looks down as he cups her hand with the scale and giggled again. "He is a maniac. And so mysterious." It was a little infuriating! And fascinating. She grinned up to Itzhak. "Yeah. Let's go say hi! A visit's long overdue anyway." And she had to wonder how long ago he had sent this scale. Or did he just...know? So many questions.

Itzhak presses a hard fast smooch to Isolde's mouth and lets her go so he can hurry across the garage and grab his violin case. He flips it open and gets the violin out. This one is a rental, not his beloved violin that he sacrificed to Gohl, but perfectly serviceable. The new, glossy cherry-red violin case has slots to hold two bows, and it's the unicorn hair bow he selects, made of gently pink wood and strung with fire-orange glimmering hair. Itzhak rosins up, tunes fast, which luckily he's good at. Then he closes and latches the case, slings it around himself with the strap on the back, and comes back over to Isolde, his face alight. "Ready? I'm gonna open the door."

The kiss is returned enthusiastically and Isolde watches as he goes to retrieve the violin, still grinning when he comes back over. "Ready!" Rocking on her heels a bit in excitement and then settling to watch Itzhak do his thing. Eyes wide and curious.

Itzhak flashes a downright cocky grin back at her. He brings the bow of bright fire-orange-red hair down across his strings. Neither the bow or the violin is magic, not really, but he thinks music is magic, and that's all it takes. The lively rollicking melody of Zimmer's Pirates of the Caribbean theme is what he's chosen, and he rocks it out, boot snapping against the concrete in time, eyebrows tilted up. His power rises in him, rolling and surging like surf, splashing against the walls of mundane reality, and the border opens to him like a lover.

As Itzhak plays, Isolde hums along quietly, swaying a little with the music - closing her eyes as she takes it all in, feels the power coming off of him as he opens that doorway. Her eyes open slowly - peering inside the portal "Aww it's so cozy looking!" With some TLC it could be very nice! She'd wait for the okay from Itzhak before stepping through and she realizes this is the first time she's willingly stepped into the Veil. And that was something special to be remembered. The sounds from outside draw her attention. A party perhaps! "...I think we're gonna be under dressed..." Mostly a joke. Mostly. But maybe they would know where Pwill is. If Pwill wasn't already here.

Itzhak follows, stepping over the border in two long strides. He wraps up the song, playing to this version of his garage, amused and pleased to see that somebody's set up their home here. Then he lets the violin drop, letting both it and his bow hang in his fingers from one hand. "Yeah, that sounds like a good time out there. C'mon." He gallantly offers his other arm to Isolde, and escorts her out to the street.

Isolde is stunned by the scene they step out into. There was just so much activity and smells. Pretty fire! And soooo many creatures! She looked up to Itzhak as if she was about to speak when the bird person walked into her. "Eek! Sorry!" She called out after the woman and giggled up at Itzhak. "This is so cool!" Tugging him a bit so they could start navigating the crowd. "Do you think anyone here knows Pwill? Maybe I can try to sense him?"

Itzhak is a little startled by just how much is going on. He wasn't prepared for this much stimulation! "Yeah, this is really cool," he says, sincerely despite being a little overwhelmed, and follows Isolde to weave through the crowd. People brush him, there's tons of motion and colors and sounds and smells, and he sucks in a breath, realizing he's going to have a harder time with this than anticipated. "Hell, I dunno, why not ask?" So he jerks his chin at someone and shouts, "Yo! You seen Pwill?" in his most raucous New York tone.

Isolde breaks out in a fit of giggles as the man shouts to whomever Verrin is. "To the beer!" She keeps a tight hold on Itzhak as they navigate the crowd to follow the little man. Might as well right? But she will also attempt to reach out and see if she can sense Pwill in the area too. Just in case. Good to have two sets of...eyes...theories? Tools? Something like that.

"Well who doesn't?" Itzhak reasons. He breaks trail, unafraid to use his height and general asshole demeanor to urge people out of his way. "Comin' through! On ya left!" A native son of New York knows how to navigate a crowd. His tension ratchets up a notch, then two, by the time they make it under the upside-down bowl of the tree. "Now I need a fuckin' beer," he remarks to Isolde, dryly.

Isolde stares in wonder at the beer garden. More specifically, the fruits though. Her curiosity was piqued and it definitely seemed like she was going to start leading Itzhak towards one when they were approached. She took pause as she studied the woman. Eyes wide again. "You're hair is so pretty." She grinned, and very much resisted the urge to touch it. Good job Isolde. "I'm Isolde! Who are you?" Head tilting ever so slightly.

Itzhak goes on high alert, his head lifting, shoulders squaring like he's intimidating an opponent. But he greets Jaqine with a courteous, "Shalom Aleichem, Jaqine. Been a while, huh?" He glances at Isolde when Jaqine does, and smiles at her, his fingers still laced firmly with hers. "This's Isolde." Itzhak knows his tone changes when he says Isolde's name, but he doesn't try to hide it. He's proud, dammit. Look at this woman by his side! "Izeleh, this is Jaqine, a uh..." what's the word? "colleague of Pwill's. Sometimes. Where's your partner in crime?" he asks Jaqine. "We got his letter."

The beer and other fermented? grown? substances are intriguing him, and although the memory of August very high on dryad sap is fresh in his mind, he asks one of the graceful deer satyr, "'Ey, how about a song for a couple a mugs of that stuff?"

"It's nice to meet you!" Isolde looked up to Itzhak then, "You've met all kinds of interesting people!" Giving his hand a squeeze before Jaqine says that she can touch her hair. "Replicate?" She asks, lifting her free hand to lightly touch the braid. "I've never seen a color quite like this one on the hair." She lets her hand fall back to her side and nods emphatically. "Yes! We should have a drink to join in celebrating!" She beams over to the satyrs. "He's an amazing bard." Leaning up to kiss Itzhak's cheek before releasing his hand so he can ready up his violin.

"He has a habit of just showing up when he's needed. Pwill. Doesn't he?" Isolde asked, looking back to the orochim.

Itzhak isn't going to drink water when there's Veil berry mead! He holds up his fiddle and the unique bow of Dreamrunner hair, hiking his eyebrows at the lovely satyr rakishly. "Whaddaya like, you like it fast or slow?" His attention is pulled back to Isolde during this negotiation, though, and he blushes when she says he's an amazing bard. "Aw, jeez," he mutters, half-laughing. And then, when she says he's "met" interesting people, he glances at Jaqine with a wry twist to his mouth. They both know how they met, but Isolde is getting along with Jaqine, something Itzhak himself hasn't yet accomplished, and he doesn't want to ruin her efforts.

"That's awesome..." Isolde sighed wistfully, pulling the tankard closer. "Is it fun? To be able to do that? I wish I could...I can feel people..things.." She lowered her voice, a hushed whisper. "That's why we need to find Pwill. So we..." Her voice trails off, distracted some as Itzhak is setting up and the satyrs are all getting up on the bar. She looks half tempted to join them. She doesn't though, not yet at least. "He's mysterious. And fascinating kind of. And cute." There's a laugh from the red head at that.

"And always getting into trouble I think, right?" Looking to Jaqine again before taking a decidedly long gulp from the tankard and refocusing on the show that was about to start.

Itzhak didn't expect the lovely faun to have such a reaction, but hey, he'll take it. He feels like that about his bow, too. "Gift from a Dreamrunner," he tells them, joining him in admiring his bow, all kinds of emotions welling up in his throat. "For this very thing. A fiddle bow. Fast? You got it, boss." He kisses Isolde, warm and firm and whiskery, murmurs, "Be right back, baby," to her with a gleam of mischief in his striated hazel eyes. "Gotta take care of some business."

He takes three long steps back, commanding the space with his height and the charisma that he thinks he doesn't have. Pointing his bow in a sweeping semicircle at the revelers, he calls to them just like a storyteller and a bard. "This ain't my song," he announces, gaze jumping from person to person, each unique in their beauty or ugliness, but isn't ugliness wonderful in its way, too? "This is a song written by three men considered geniuses where I come from, and the front man is from my tribe." That's right, he's gonna claim Geddy Lee as a Jew in front of this particular audience. "I brought it here in my head and I'm gonna play it for you. It's called 'Dreamline.'"

With that, he plucks out the tinkly opening riff, starts tapping his boot to the beat. He's playing it with a different vibe from the original. In fact, he's playing it bluegrass style when brings the bow of fire-orange-red hair down across his strings. The power chords are turned whirling and crazy, the melody rockets up and down, the tempo made for dancing. Itzhak holds his fiddle a little more braced against his shoulder than under his chin, and he sings.

He's got a road map of Jupiter, a radar fix on the stars
All along the highway
She's got a liquid-crystal compass, a picture book of the rivers
Under the Sahara

They travel in the time of the prophets
On a desert highway straight to the heart of the sun
Like lovers and heroes, and the restless part of everyone
We're only at home when we're on the run
On the run!

Itzhak reels off a set of those chords that grab you by the back of the neck and shake you, demand your attention (listen, LISTEN, this is a truth I am telling you). Then he's plucking the strings again in the riff from the beginning.

He's got a star map of Hollywood, a list of cheap motels
All along the freeway
She's got a sister out in Vegas, the promise of a decent job
Far away from her hometown... CHORDS!
They travel on the road to redemption
A highway out of yesterday, that tomorrow will bring
Like lovers and heroes, birds in the last days of spring
We're only at home when we're on the wing
On the wing

When we are young
Wandering the face of the earth
Wondering what our dreams might be worth
Learning that we're only immortal
For a limited time...

It's Veil stuff! Of course there's side effects. Though, Isolde hadn't been thinking about that...and most definitely was not expecting this. She sets the tankard down, unsure of what to do at first. It was like a cacophony of emotions piling in on her. She felt a little claustrophobic. Then...Itzhak started to play. And she could feel those vibrations too. Right into the very core of her being and something...strange...and beautiful happened.

Itzhak's song came to life! And that, combined with the heaving waves of energetic emotions that she could nearly see herself, allowed her to just...flow. Isolde is not the best dancer by any means. But tonight, caught up in just the...magic of it all - as Cameron might put it...letting it all flow through her and around her and over her...she danced with everything she had.

And all the positive, happy, energetic feelings that SHE was feeling, resonated outward- like she wanted the entire Garden to feel like she was.

Itzhak plays like there is nothing else in the world. Nothing except him and his bow and his fiddle and the music in his head, and his drive, like sex or hunger, to turn what's in his head into reality. The song is about yearning, the flame of desire that lives in every sentient being, and he feels it. He yearns along with it. In his mind he's looking down a highway into the desert that rises into mountains, thinking about where it might take him, what he might see if he flattens the gas pedal to the floor and spins that endless asphalt ribbon under his wheels. More, more, MORE!

Time is a gypsy caravan
Steals away in the night
To leave you stranded in dreamland
Distance is a long-range filter
Memory a flickering light
Left behind in the heartland

Itzhak rakes his bow down, the chords loud, rough and pure. His violin shouts and he sings.

We travel in the dark of the new moon
A starry highway traced on the map of the sky
Like lovers and heroes, lonely as the eagle's cry
We're only at home when we're on the fly
On the fly

We travel on the road to adventure
On a desert highway straight to the heart of the sun
Like lovers and heroes, and the restless part of everyone
We're only at home when we're on the run
On the run!

Sweating, his dark curly forelock stuck to his face, he strikes the last note and whips his bow into the air in a flourish. Super unprofessional in the classical world, which is one of many reasons he ditched it for folk music. Folk music you can do anything that moves you.

Tossing his head to try to unstick his hair, he looks around, realizes what's happening--and his eyes go wide. "Oy gevalt," he whispers. Something in his heart shifts at the sight of strange people dancing, of Isolde dancing, of the images written by Neil Peart taking wing. Itzhak laughs, breathless, grinning, and bows an elaborate stage bow, tucking his fiddle to his heart and sweeping his bow up.

If the music had kept going, Isolde would have likely kept dancing. As it were, all songs come to and end and so as Itzhak wound down the song, so Isolde's dacing slowed to a stop. She was still near Jaqine. Her face flushed, red hair all kinds of wild, heart racing. "Pwill!" She said cheerfully, grinning to the Satyr. "That was amazing Itzhak!" Her grin turning towards the man. Though it faltered when Pwill took that cold tone with Jaqine. A shudder runs through her as she feels that power stirring within Pwill.

Clear blue eyes fall on to the woman, a touch of suspicion setting in as she feels that wariness, that tension. Associates? But she seemed so nice. Could Jaqine really be up to no good? She tries to, also somewhat subtley, move her way closer to where Pwill and Itzhak are. She's on high alert now, still riding some of the adrenaline from all that dancing and energy.

Itzhak sweeps Isolde up in his arms and whirls her around. He can't find words for how beautiful she is and how much he adores her, so this will have to do. He sets her down, grinning at her, and kisses her like he means it.

Then, before Itzhak can claim his payment of mead, Pwill appears, and he says, "Hey!" to him, genuinely glad to see him, and happy in this moment, fleeting as it is. He just rocked the house. The musician's soul in him can ask for nothing better in life. ...But when he hears Pwill say that to Jaqine, he snaps his gaze to her, anger leaping in his breast as easily as joy had. "Intercept us, is it?" His power grows tense in him, like an earthquake fault building pressure. The first impulse he has is protect Isolde; he steps between her and Jaqine.

Isolde wraps her arms around Itzhak, returning the kiss enthusiastically before everything starts to happen with Pwill and Jaqine. She can feel that sudden anger welling up so acutely under the influence of the berry drink. She reaches out her hand to keep a hold of one of Itzhak's, attempting to try and keep the anger at bay. At least until the situation is more understood. A watchful eye still on Jaqine.

And then suddenly there's a fight breaking out! And strange shadowy things! And one very, very close to her. She releases Itzhak's hand and whips around to try and...what? Hit it? Yell at it? Her intention was definitely to try and scare it - but instead, she faltered. The alcohol hitting her hard apparently, and maybe the shadowy creatures bringing back some unsettling memories caused her to take a step back instead.

Shadows coalesce around them and Itzhak's grin turns savage. Isolde's faltering makes him ever more eager to fight. He can hear her Song in her, louder and more complex since she drank the mead, and didn't that happen to Roen, too, when he got dryad sap in his system?

What Itzhak needs is something in his system.

He snatches the mug he hadn't got to yet touch and takes a healthy swig. WHEW! Potent and tangy and like going down on a ripe blackberry. Itzhak sets his fiddle under his chin, the light of about-to-fuck-somebody-up in his eyes. These guys picked a bad day to fight a bard. Itzhak stamps to set the time. One! Two! One two three four! Cajun music rolls out from under his bow and light blossoms around him and Isolde and Pwill, strong and big and made of his strength. Take that, shadow assholes.

Isolde yelps reflexively as the light hits the shadow so close to her. She takes another half step backward, almost in a stumble- and that's when she spots Jaqine. Her mindvoice SCREAMS for Pwill <<BEHIND YOU!>> and at the same time, going more on instinct, Isolde lunges for Jaqine. There's something almost feral in those blue eyes. Something wild. "You won't hurt him!" She shouts, pinning the woman. Attempting to get her blade from her!

Rage and fear rises up in Itzhak when he realizes Isolde is going toe-to-toe with Jaqine. He snarls, lips curling back from his teeth. The light he's made bursts into three times as much intensity as he plays, imbuing the Cajun music with menace. He's got to drive off these shadow jerks before they mob anybody so that's what he focuses on, but he makes promises while he does. "Any of you touch my girl, I'll put you in the fucking ground!" Oh he is not kidding. He can't murder Jaqine or her shadowy friends with his will alone, not like August could, but really, curbstomping is more his style anyway. Wanna see what inspired those words on his knuckles? Hurt Isolde and you WILL.

<<Pwill, that sword! I can't feel the blade!>> he shouts to the satyr. <<I'm gonna try to smash it!>>

A long time ago, Alexander at warned Isolde about being careful with her powers, but this moment was not a time to be careful. People were in danger! Specific people. That she cared about. Or liked. So in this moment of wanting to protect said people, Jacqine gets shocked all to hell via Isolde gripping her and the results or exactly what she wanted! Jacqine dropping the blade.

Isolde shocks the everloving hell out of Jaqine, and Itzhak? He slashes his bow through the air like he intends on dueling the Orochim. The pink ipe wood and unicorn hair slices through the uncanny sword and shatters it into a thousand pieces.

Isolde isn't sure how she managed to not get hit, but in a way - it's still like she did. Because she can still feel it, even if she didn't physically get hit. What Jaqine is feeling because of getting hit by them. Likely what Itzhak from getting just blasted. "Itzhak!" Isolde cries out as she watches the shards pierce him. Jumping off of Jaqine and running to Pwill and where he's picking Itzhak up. <<Is he going to be okay?!?!>> Isolde's mind is panicked. She spots the shadowbeats and all but snarls right back at them. Like 'Back the fuck off'. But she's also ready to blast them with some electricity if needbe as they make their escape.

Itzhak makes an awful sound as shrapnel thuds into his arm and his side. <<Cold>> his mind cries. He staggers, falling, but Pwill is there to catch him. <<Cold cold COLD, get it out get it out get it OUT>> His bow falls from his hand, but not his bow! NOT HIS BOW! He's sacrificed too much already! Even as Pwill's holding him up he's twisting to grab it, hook a finger between frog and hair.

Yep, he's full of evil splinters and what he's most afraid of is losing his precious bow.

Isolde shuddered again, the surprise appearance of the unicorn somewhat ruined by the feeling of impending doom that was washing over her as the inky reinforcements were on their way. "Yes! Quickly!" Isolde found her voice. She wasted no time getting on the unicorn so she could help get Itzhak on and then Pwill. Once all that is taken care of and they'd be on their way Isolde would add, "You're really majestic!" To the unicorn. Of course she would. And he was!

Itzhak stares, dizzy with pain and getting drowsy with cold. He's not feeling the cold so much anymore as he's feeling a strong desire to go to sleep. That would be really nice. He's very tired. "Are you real?" he rasps to the unicorn.

My queen. It was so weird to hear that. She knew Pwill called her the Iron Queen and that was strange too but to hear someone else actually...never mind. More important things! She grips Itzhak's hand. "Don't you die on me! Stay with us Itzhak!" She pleaded. She releases his hand briefly when Pwill shocks him because she doesn't want to get shocked herself. She's doing a rather average job of keeping her shit together for the time being.

<<Anything. Whatever I have to do.>> She looks up to Pwill. <<He can't die. >>

Itzhak makes a whole range of exciting new sounds as Pwill zaps him. <<AAHH FUCK!>> Well, at least he's awake? He gives Pwill one hell of a dirty look, hazel eyes rolling in his direction. <<Fffffuck you, man.>> A little more alert, he bleeds on Isolde and Pwill and hangs on grimly. <<Not...gonna die.>>

Depending on how this all plays out, later on Isolde is going to completely fangirl over those iridescent toads. Completely.

In this moment though, she's focused. Zeroed in on helping Pwill unload Itzhak and then lay him out on the blanket. It makes her take pause as she helps lay Itzhak down. "This design..." It's almost to herself. Her head lifting quickly to look at Pwill. "Who did she cut a deal with?" There were a thousand, hundred more questions that Isolde had. But she was trying to pick out the ones that might be the best to ask while you're trying to save some one.

She runs a hand through Itzhak's hair. "Don't worry, we're gonna fix you right up okay?"

It hurts so fucking much to slide off of the unicorn that Itzhak's revising his opinion that he's not gonna die. He cries out when he touches the ground, and again when they lay him on the blanket. "Roen'll help," he mutters, more than a little deliriously, then catches Isolde's hand and seems like he's going to indulge in that nap.

Isolde realized she was trembling as Pwill started to talk her through it. She tried to focus on drawing them out, like he said. but it was difficult. Her mind kept wandering and no. No. NO! Focus. This was important! Itzhak would die if she couldn't do this! She swallowed hard and renewed trying to will them out. With Itzhak fading again, she would attempt to jolt one of the melted shards (and him some). <<Stay with me Itzhak. Stay with me, please. I can't lose you.>> Her mind reaches out to him, a desperate plea.

Itzhak lets his head fall to the side on Gefen's flank. He doesn't even protest when the unicorn whuffles through and nibbles his hair. He looks up at Isolde, and although his mental violin is soft, he gets through. <<You got this, Izeleh.>> The kythe sings to her, one of the classical songs he'd played at her bedside in the hospital. Soft, whispery, but there.

Maybe it's the mead. Maybe it's the rush of emotions Isolde is feeling. Maybe it's all those things. Whatever it is - it super charges Isolde's powers in more ways than one. <<Sorry, baby>> She almost winces as she feels the electric charge surge through Itzhak, weakening those stupid shards as she immediately presses forward with her mind. Willing the shards to come out. Up and out. Out. Out. Practically shouting at them with her mind for them to GET. OUT. OF. MY. BOYFRIEND!

Itzhak's back snaps into an arch. He screams, or he wants to scream but all that comes out is a throttled gaspy sound. Sizzle! His hair and clothes smoke under Isolde's electricity. As the tiny insidious wisps of malevolence seep out of him, he collapses with a whimpering sob, tears of shock and pain streaming down his temples.

Isolde might have lashed out at the smoke, but Gefen took care of it first. She could feel hot tears threatening to spill over as she carefully gathered Itzhak in her arms - letting Gefen heal him. <<I'm sorry, sorry, sorry...but you're okay now. You'll be okay.>> Her mental voice whispers to Itzhak, eyes on the scar she's left him with. Then she forces herself to pay attention to Pwill. "...And Jaqine formed a...deal with them of some kind?" Drawing in a soft breath. "...This blanket design...what is this design?"

Itzhak rests his head against Isolde's chest and is happy to be there. He's as limp as a shop rag worn to threads. Although Gefen dispels the whispering evil, Itzhak closes his eyes as if what it says is true. He doesn't realize he has a new decoration yet. All he knows is what the wisp says is what he also tells himself, and thus it is more painful than anything else that's happened to him today.

<<...so proud of you...>> he sends to Isolde, nevertheless. Slowly he opens his eyes and looks at Pwill and Gefen. He's healed, but exhausted to the bone. He reaches up to pet Gefen's nose, with a tiny smile. <<...nice ta meet ya. Owe ya both.>>

<<I love you.>> Isolde would hold Itzhak closer, hold him tighter, if she could. But she didn't want to hurt him any more, so she just keeps him as close as she can. Cradled there against her chest. <<Just try to relax.>> She leans her head on his as her eyes close and she lets Pwil take them on that image journey. Seeing answers to her questions forming before her very eyes. A soft gasp escapes. There she was. And Isolde yearns to reach out to her. Her eyes fly open, pinning right on Pwill. "How do we help her? ...How did they even get to her?..." Lowering her gaze to the blanket they were on.

Itzhak's eyebrows lift, and he smiles smitten and adoring up at Isolde. His voice is a raspy wreck when he murmurs, "Sweetheart. Love you too." One hand lifts to stroke long strands of brown hair away from her cheek. The images come to him, Pwill's voice murmuring in his head, and he lets his eyes close again. He frowns. <<Oh my God. What is she?>>

Isolde takes in all the information about the situation with a light frown. Trying to hang on to the most important parts. She seems pretty determined to free her too. "There must be a way to make it not as bad." She murmurs. "But whatever happens...we have to try." Right? It wasn't right to use her as a power source of all things. To live on her without permission. She looks down to Itzhak. "Do you think you can stand?" She wished that they could stay just a little longer but Isolde knew it was dangerous here. And they certainly had found themselves enough trouble.

Itzhak soaks up the information. He doesn't know what he'll do with it yet. It needs to go to the back of his mind to self-assemble into something he can use. "We want to help," he says. "So count us in." Following Pwill's glance up to the sky, he looks thoughtful, then, slowly, groaning, clambers to his feet. He is a mess. A healed mess, but a mess.

Then he leans into Pwill and he smiles at him wicked and lopsided. "Do we get a kiss goodbye or what?"

Isolde rises to her feet with Itzhak - making sure to keep him steady. There's a giggle that escapes when Itzhak asks for a kiss and she's clearly thinking about it as she watches said kiss take place. After all, how many times in ones life do they get to say they kissed a satyr? Like. Never. A touch of a grin lights her features and Isolde moves in closer. She doesn't wait for Pwill to kiss her. Instead her hands slide up to cup his face and she presses a decidedly heated kind of kiss to the saytr's lips. Eyes bright when she pulled away. "You're trouble Pwill. But, the good sort." As her hands left him and she wrapped an arm around Itzhak as well so she was ready to support him when Pwill let go.

Itzhak enjoys the heck out of that, giving as good as he gets. Then he gets to watch Isolde and Pwill kiss and he gets kinda flushed, eyebrows up, watching with intent. Aw. Yeah. He now would like to do significantly more than kissing but...on his own side of the border. Arm around Isolde, he nods to satyr and unicorn. "I hear ya. We'll be in touch." With that, he pulls himself and Isolde back across.