Origami Narwhal
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The Drake of Craumont - 1.11
🕑 Added 2025-03-24 18:11:00 +0000 UTCThe Delve pressure eases gradually as we move, like we're rising through water. It'll continue to lighten as we go, and it won't take more than ten minutes before we're out of here completely.
Which is great, because I am very ready to get out of here. If Winston asks for me to guide her again, I'll just say no and recommend someone with a bit more patience.
The Delve Heart tugs at me, practically humming in my hand. Looks like my estimate was off, then; five minutes till we're out of here.
“Well, here we are,” I say, coming to a stop. It's no different from anywhere else, at first glance. Bare trees, deep snow, and thankfully we've yet to see even a single monster.
Helena rubs her hands together as she stops, breathing into them. “O-oh?”
“Shallow enough to make a portal,” I say in way of an explanation, passing the Delve Heart to my injured hand and channeling its magic into my good one.
“Portalcraft!” She nods along, a smile flickering along her lips. “Delve Hearts can open and close portals, um, within the Delve they were formed in? I think?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Surely there's a book for that?”
Her crestfallen expression tugs at my heartstrings. I don't like being mean, and I don't even like the words I just said. I still don't plan on taking them back. I made just as many mistakes as she did, didn’t I?
Sighing, I concentrate the magic into a finger, close my eyes, and plunge into the abstraction once more.
I'm not looking for a needle or even a cog this time. No, I'm looking for the wall to this metaphorical dark room. Harder than you'd think, and more habit or art than science, to my irritation. And sure enough, after a bit of blind prodding, there it is, pressing back on me but bending under my touch.
I hook my claw down, shuddering as it slides through something on the other side. With the skein of the Delve clinging to me, I walk forward until I find another one— Gods, why is the gap between layers so slimy here? Ah, whatever, there’s the next layer. The taste of saltwater clings to my tongue, like the layer I'm touching is leaking a bit.
I push harder, puncturing the wall of the next layer, hooking down once more so the layers touch. Delve magic drips through, bound tightly to my will and widening the puncture I'd made. From there, I just push the edges bit by bit, pausing whenever the magic tries to slip away, until I finally have a portal I think I can fit through.
“Fascinating,” Helena murmurs.
I open my eyes, sighing with relief as I survey my work. An oval portal, glowing gold at the fringes. Through it, a view of the back of the chapel on the first layer.
“It is,” I agree. I shake my hand, wincing at the tingling feeling. The strain of magic when I’m already taxed isn’t pleasant, and I’d rather not lean on the Heart for assistance.
“You have a fall protection spell, right?” I confirm, stepping through the portal. “It'll be faster to jump down.”
Words catch in her throat as she hurries to follow me. “Um, maybe? I don't know if I have enough left to cast—”
Of course not. Probably because her magic is busy patching up her body after being exposed to a Delve Heart. I hope she doesn’t get anything out of it that she isn’t ready for.
Putting that aside for a minute, I stride up to the side of the cliff and peer over. No birds, no rats, the vines don't seem to be doing anything still. Beyond them, rippling white foam draws an ever-shifting line between sand and sea, each and every detail clear to my Delve Heart-enhanced eyes. We're clear to go down, it seems.
I draw in the salty air of the first layer through my nose, exhale through my mouth, and lose myself in the distant rhythm of the waves. The gamble with the Delve Heart had stopped us from getting into even deeper trouble. I hold that thought, and let my anger go. My tail shudders, tensing and untensing.
“Come over here. I'll carry you.” I gesture in front of me. “Unless you're scared I'll drop you?”
Helena gives me a long, searching look, and holds it as she walks up to me. “Thank you, Ivy. And no, I know you wouldn’t drop me.”
She's right, obviously. I wouldn't. I'm upset, tired, and frustrated, nothing more. Stuffing the Delve Heart in my pocket, I carefully scoop her up, wincing as my arm starts to sting again. “Good. Now, don't move, got it?”
Helena nods, shuffling in my grip. Her cheeks are flush as she looks up at me, chewing her lip. “Of course. Um, sorry. This just feels, ah, weird.”
I just shrug, and with a few bounds, we're leaping over the side of the cliff. I think Helena screams a little, but it's hard to hear over the wind.
Soaring past the white plaster buildings, I use gentle curls of Wind to prevent us from overshooting the beach.
Then, as gravity starts to drag us down, I call up a stronger pulse of Wind. I snatch the swirling air as it roars past, channeling it into my legs. My knees bend, and as the ground rushes to meet us, I mold that Wind into a broad, cushioning shape similar to a filled waterskin. It's a somewhat taxing trick, made worse by the press of sludgy Delve magic in my body, but it's the safest way to take a long fall that I know.
We land with a whump, blasting a half-march deep divot in the sand. The Wind structure scatters into soft green light, hanging strange stars in the suspended sand.
Then it all drops down, and Helena wiggles herself out of my arms. If she had been screaming earlier, she had thankfully stopped before we landed. Dropping to the uneven ground with a wobble, she shakes her head and pats herself down.
“Oh, wow,” she says. Must be her favorite word. “I'd love to see that... oh, sorry. Nevermind.”
I just shrug. “I'm sure it's in a book somewhere. Ask your Church where they took the remainder of the Crawford collection.”
Helena winces. “Oh.”
Something twinges in my chest. “I... Winston might have a few, too. I’ll make suggestions.”
She nods, firmly looking away from me. “Okay. Thank you.”
Walking up the side of the hole I'd made, I scan around for the portal— it's hard to sense where Delve up is when I'm near the surface. And hey, there it is. Foggy golden portal, just a quick walk away.
Once I've confirmed Helena is out of the hole, I jog over to the portal. With Helena still catching up, I run my hand along the fringe, feeling the pressure of the World beyond. No changes. No tears, no evidence of Delve creatures trying to push through.
Then what, I wonder, tried to push through while I was sealing it? Another wolf? No... hm. Something big. Maybe it even bubbled up from somewhere even deeper, somewhere I'd have to dig to with a Delve Heart.
If it wasn't in the middle of the city, I'd have half a mind to plumb the depths of this Delve, see what secrets it holds. With Adamantine as my witness, I'd do it for free. Not that I'd tell Winston that— nor do I really want to stay in Craumont.
I push those thoughts aside, turning back to watch Helena. She's definitely tiring out by now, rubbing her eyes and stretching as she walks. “After you,” I jerk my chin towards the portal, crossing my arms.
Helena opens her mouth, works her jaw, and then closes it. Lips pursed, she nods. “Okay. Is this... ah, no.”
Well, nothing really to pick apart there, and I don't really see a point in trying to be even meaner. I just shrug. “It's safe, if that's the concern.”
“No, no. I, ah, it was a question. I changed my mind,” Helena explains quietly. “Thank you for today, Ivy.”
She steps through, and I follow her.
Exiting a Delve is like rising out of a lake. Pressure forces me up and out through the golden mist, each step easier than the last. Breaching the surface into the World comes with a breath of relief, with magic I'd hardly noticed the absence of flooding my body. It eases the aching of my bones, soothing the burden of sludgy Delve magic.
I inhale again, exhale, and step back into the World fully. My boots clack on the flagstones, and before I've even taken in my surroundings, the Delve Heart is back in my injured hand.
Time to seal this up. Moving to the side to let Helena past, I spin around, taking special care not to slap anyone or anything with my lengthened tail. My good hand presses against the seams of the portal, claws hooking into the golden mist. Delve magic flows though me, a sludgy river from Heart to hand, and the glow of the Heart begins to fade.
“There’s the woman of the hour! I can't believe you went through with it, Eiches. And with Dame Crawford, of all people?” A cheerful voice cuts through my thoughts. “Didn't Jordan tell you about her? I mean, you got in the Delve like you wanted, Priest Dongbaek is going to be furious, but the Dame? You're mad.”
“C-Conrad!” Helena says, her voice at once cheerful and reprimanding. “Yes, thank you. But she wasn't like everyone said. I'm fine.”
“Really? You know what she—”
“Conrad.” Winston's voice rises over everything, commanding silence. “I let you stay here to greet our Mage and Delver. Not disturb the Delver while she works, or insult her. Give Ivy time to seal up the portal, at least. Am I clear?”
The man, Conrad presumably, sighs. “I- yes, Lord Craumont.”
Running my hand up the side of the portal, I draw Delve Magic into thread and start tying a basic knot. Stitching a portal closed isn't the most up-to-date and efficient method, but it's the one I'm most practiced with. There's people talking behind me, and I can hear Helena bickering with Conrad in the background.
“You're injured,” Winston's voice says, much closer now. He's walked up to my wounded arm, and I wince when he puts a hand on it. “Gods, what did that?”
“Bear monster. Big one,” I grunt. The knot of magic is tied, excellent. I draw the string down in a cross, as if I was suturing a wound. Each tug pulls the portal's edges closer together, and the Heart starts to crack and crumble in my hand. “Helena almost got us both killed, by the way. More accurately, I let her lead me into it.”
“Ah.” Winston says flatly, his voice laced with disappointment. “My condolences. I had high hopes for her. I still do, but perhaps I got ahead of myself.”
“You and me both,” I sigh. “But that's the Restoration Church for you.”
“They're not bad people, Ivy. I’ve seen the work they do,” Winston replies, and I'm hit with a pang of nostalgia. He'd said this a thousand times to me over the years between my parents' deaths and my departure. “I doubt it was intentional on her part.”
“I know.” I echo my younger self, hopefully a lot less shrill this time around. Then, breaking with tradition, I add a little more. “Doesn't that make it worse?”
Winston hums. “Perhaps some wine and a good meal would make up for it?”
I can't help but snort, tapping my tail against the side of his boot. Banter is a welcome relief from the tension I'd just experienced. “Maybe. I know you're going to subject me to more local politics, but as long as I get to wear a suit instead of a dress, I'm game. Now, this next part is a little tricky. Give me a moment?”
“Of course, to both. I’ll send a carriage to pick you up this evening.” Winston steps back, and I start the process of gently tugging the— somewhat metaphorical— slack out of the thread. Any deviation into the portal would get snipped away when it shut, sliced by the impossibly thin edges of a portal. And yes, people have lost limbs and lives to that, so ensuring proper closure is essential. I crouch down to get a closer look at what I’m doing, grimacing as my sore muscles complain.
The bickering in the background rises, and I hear Helena's voice getting a bit shrill. She's cut off, though.
“But, seriously, why did you invite her back, my Lord?” Conrad's words hang in the air. “You know what she's like. She could've hurt Eiches!”
Adamantine, grant me strength and resilience both. Strength, so I might resist the urge to shout at this man. Resilience, so I can talk to him after this without losing it. It's only a small boon.
I don't pay attention to Winston's response, though I can tell from his tone that he's unimpressed by it all. Helena complains about being called Eiches, barely audible even to my Delve Heart-enhanced senses.
Whatever the case, the threads are taut, and the stitch is ready to be pulled tight. The Delve Heart is nearly spent, with only a faint light glowing within the tarnished crystal. And, thankfully, the unpleasant weight of its magic is waning too.
Some people carry these on their person and use them constantly, at least until they crumble away under the pressure of the World. I'm not sure if I'm impressed with those people or alarmed by them; as much as the rush of power is satisfying, I’d rather achieve it without feeling awful.
So I stand, groaning as my back creaks and my knees complain. I yank my stitching-hand straight up, pouring all my remaining Delve magic through it and into the thread. The scales on my arm practically melt away, and I can see my claws rapidly shifting back to normal fingernails.
The golden portal shuts with a whisper of air and the shuddering of the World, a pulse as the depth of it returns to normal. No more joining of this world to whatever madness the Delves bled from. More importantly for Craumont, no more risk of monsters or adventurous types seeking to be the next ten grand march Delver, or looking for a shortcut to being a Mage.
Maybe a bit hypocritical, given that's how I got started...
“That should hold,” I gesture at the now-empty space, my voice echoing in the chapel. I do one last check at the stitching, shaking my increasingly sore wounded arm to stave off tingling feelings. “I’d keep a guard or two around to make sure nobody tries to cut their way in, at least until it starts healing over naturally. Three or four days, maybe?”
I turn, glancing past Helena and briefly fixing on the blond man next to her. He's a bit shorter than me, which I take a little bit of joy in, and he shivers when his eyes lock with mine. No doubt my pupils are still slit, and my irises could even be that nice glowing shade of orange. I add a drip of magic to my eyes, sharpening my sight further.
“You,” I say to him, gradually approaching. “You’re a brave one, insulting me to my face. Or an idiot.”
“I—”
“Quiet,” I growl, baring my teeth. He practically turns to jelly under my gaze. I can see his knees shaking, I can hear his heart beating. “You could’ve distracted me from my work. That could’ve gotten Helena killed. And your lord, and you, and if you were lucky, me, if something came through. Understand?”
I look away, jerking my chin at Winston and softening my snarl to a smile. I don’t exactly care to see the other man’s reaction, so I turn away from him entirely. “See you at the dinner tonight.”
Winston smiles in return, and I make to stride out the chapel in complete, perfect silence. The splintered wooden seats have been pushed to the sides, even, so I'm free to sweep my tail across the flagstones. It's nice.
“Wait! Um.” Helena's voice stops me short of the exit, and I turn my head to look at her with one eye.
I don't say a word, though. All I see right now is someone who I can't trust, and it's exhausting to think about.
“For what it's worth, Ivy, I'm sorry.”
Her words hang in the air. Her eyes can't meet mine, cast at the floor as they are. Her hands are clenched, bunching up her pants and fidgeting constantly.
I think about what she's said. I really do.
“I am too.”
I walk out of the chapel, and my guilt shadows my steps.
