Evidently, Mallia wasn't sure what she was looking for in this scene either, and frowned a bit as it faded, wasting no time in running her hand across more of the blossoms.
Another moment in time sprang up around them -- Past Mallia was stepping back into the village, one made up of those odd little houses that incorporated live trees into their structures, and everyone present apparently an elf as well, with those only barely-pointed ears and the larger irises to their eyes -- and things were not well, it was obvious. Someone had come in before her, one figure being talked to more obviously, and others crowding around, some crying already. A horse had been led off to water not far away, the blanket on its back askew.
It was hard to follow just who was saying what, but the gist was clear enough, at least. There was talk of trying to find out what recovery efforts there were, talk of if people were needed, to search. How quickly could they rig boats? Or bring wood? But it was so far away! Had anyone talked to one of the dragons? Maybe they could fly out and-- No, it can't be too late! They'll make bodies, for if anyone can still be found that might need one!
Past Mallia's eyes widened as she stepped in quietly, cradling a few bottles of what looked like it might've been wine, but for how it glowed with a light of its own, a soft white that the dark bottles barely helped to hide. Rather than approaching to further pester the figure who looked most tired, already talking to those around them, she began to step toward a figure that'd been shown before -- the lady who'd carved a new arm for the child Chell -- but the older elf didn't seem to see her before turning, tears in her eyes, and leaving quickly. The fairy looked around, noting that Chell himself -- now not quite a teenager, but definitely a taller wooden doll than earlier, and already leaning into such an aesthetic, with leaves for hair, though he still wore regular cloth clothing -- followed after her, also distressed. She glanced around, and changed direction, to try speaking quietly with another of the adults.
This one turned toward her after a second, still evidently in shock, and pulled the confused and worried fairy into a hug. The words were muffled from her at first as her face was buried on Mallia's shoulder, but she sobbed and tried to continue anyway. "...It sank. It burned down."
"No.... It can't have, they were careful. They're on the sea, besides, it-- It couldn't have....!" Past Mallia all but dropped one of the bottles she was holding, and shifted to catch it.
"They were attacked," she managed.
"Who would--" She did drop a bottle this time, and it hit the ground beside her. She didn't try to pick it back up.
The lady opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't speak in the moment, wiping her eyes again.
"Why would they-- How could they do that? There were thousands...!" She dropped the other bottles to the side, freeing her arms so she could hug the lady back; they both needed it, at that point.
Present-day Mallia finally turned away from the scene, already running her hands over more flowers, trying to find a way to interrupt it. She was trying to keep a straight face, but it was clearly a rather painful memory for her, all the same. "It was a city on the sea," she whispered in explanation, not looking up at Mal. "The elves made it, and a great many of them tried to retreat to it, to live apart from the humans...."
Perhaps of some mild interest was that although everyone in the magically-shown past was upset, none quite seemed angry there. Upset, sad, shocked, horrified, of course... but no one was calling for retaliation or making threats, only trying to figure out how they could potentially salvage some of the situation, once they were able to get past their initial reactions of denial and shock....
no subject
Another moment in time sprang up around them -- Past Mallia was stepping back into the village, one made up of those odd little houses that incorporated live trees into their structures, and everyone present apparently an elf as well, with those only barely-pointed ears and the larger irises to their eyes -- and things were not well, it was obvious. Someone had come in before her, one figure being talked to more obviously, and others crowding around, some crying already. A horse had been led off to water not far away, the blanket on its back askew.
It was hard to follow just who was saying what, but the gist was clear enough, at least. There was talk of trying to find out what recovery efforts there were, talk of if people were needed, to search. How quickly could they rig boats? Or bring wood? But it was so far away! Had anyone talked to one of the dragons? Maybe they could fly out and-- No, it can't be too late! They'll make bodies, for if anyone can still be found that might need one!
Past Mallia's eyes widened as she stepped in quietly, cradling a few bottles of what looked like it might've been wine, but for how it glowed with a light of its own, a soft white that the dark bottles barely helped to hide. Rather than approaching to further pester the figure who looked most tired, already talking to those around them, she began to step toward a figure that'd been shown before -- the lady who'd carved a new arm for the child Chell -- but the older elf didn't seem to see her before turning, tears in her eyes, and leaving quickly. The fairy looked around, noting that Chell himself -- now not quite a teenager, but definitely a taller wooden doll than earlier, and already leaning into such an aesthetic, with leaves for hair, though he still wore regular cloth clothing -- followed after her, also distressed. She glanced around, and changed direction, to try speaking quietly with another of the adults.
This one turned toward her after a second, still evidently in shock, and pulled the confused and worried fairy into a hug. The words were muffled from her at first as her face was buried on Mallia's shoulder, but she sobbed and tried to continue anyway. "...It sank. It burned down."
"No.... It can't have, they were careful. They're on the sea, besides, it-- It couldn't have....!" Past Mallia all but dropped one of the bottles she was holding, and shifted to catch it.
"They were attacked," she managed.
"Who would--" She did drop a bottle this time, and it hit the ground beside her. She didn't try to pick it back up.
The lady opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't speak in the moment, wiping her eyes again.
"Why would they-- How could they do that? There were thousands...!" She dropped the other bottles to the side, freeing her arms so she could hug the lady back; they both needed it, at that point.
Present-day Mallia finally turned away from the scene, already running her hands over more flowers, trying to find a way to interrupt it. She was trying to keep a straight face, but it was clearly a rather painful memory for her, all the same. "It was a city on the sea," she whispered in explanation, not looking up at Mal. "The elves made it, and a great many of them tried to retreat to it, to live apart from the humans...."
Perhaps of some mild interest was that although everyone in the magically-shown past was upset, none quite seemed angry there. Upset, sad, shocked, horrified, of course... but no one was calling for retaliation or making threats, only trying to figure out how they could potentially salvage some of the situation, once they were able to get past their initial reactions of denial and shock....