William
Maybe.. That's what got it to work. *Yes*, a better friend might've told him no; told him this, and that and that Alcuin should **Sort out** His life- but, again, that *Wasn't Yrsa*. The both of them? They seemed to be in this.. Perpetual struggle for **Violence**; every twitching muscle and fast movement hid within it the lingering sentiment to *Give in*, to surrender- filled with genuine angst and fear. How much longer would Yrsa be capable of holding back her rage? .. When would Alcuin be faced with that impossible demand, wherein he needed to choose between his newfound master and his friendships?- they were like.. Walking kegs of lit black powder about to blow.

It would be better to head into the inferno with a head held high, then. Alcuin was by far the smarter of the two; neither was Yrsa particularly wise. But she did know one thing. The land from which she hailed married death with life, and the latter rarely came without sacrificing the former. Her last eight years had acquainted her well with the concepts of death, pain, torture and such things - and even before that .. How many winters had she experienced in which someone around her didn't die off? Of course, as a healer, Alcuin would have had to make peace with that, too.

But his purpose, likely, had ever been to protect life. Hers was silent recognition that it'd end anyway. The only thing she could do was prolong that inevitability for as long as possible. And.. It was with that type of resolution, with that figurative aura, that she pushed herself away from the gravestone, their complex bond of friendship and loyalty lingering in the air. Her movements were as much like an explosion as always, and she lunged forward, continuing on her push to try and catch him off-guard with a sweaty *Hug* — and, GODS, she *Really* Needed another bath! Her armpits were even more VILE up close! She cackled meanwhile like she KNEW as much, crudely trying to ruffle a hand through the warlock's hairdo to **Mess it up as much as possible**, before pushing herself away again. She was acting like an annoying sibling! And what made that worse was that she often struggled to control her speed and strength; even playing around, she was just way too damn strong!! It would knock the wind out of a fully-trained knight!

Then again, Alcuin *Was* Pretty used to her habits. She shot him a grin and turned on half a foot, casually falling back into her stride beside him with a pep in her step- **"My friend Alcuin.."** She blustered, tucking her hands behind her back and taking a few comically large steps. She retracted her right hand and raised her index finger like a real smart-ass; "This is the way!! But, I shall not let you say this without meaning! Together.. As FRIENDS, KIN.. We will hunt the BIGGEST Elk this land has seen! I can SMELL it, even now-!!"

She gestured for the sky, waving dramatically. Meanwhile, she intoned her words like she was on to share some great tale or story, the beginning of myth and fable; ".. And then, we will **EAT IT.** With mead! Good honey mead that goes SLUSH and GULP." Yrsa said boisterously, though it sounded anti-climactic. But he couldn't reasonably expect to journey with a BERSERKER and not have his vegetarianism questioned, right?!- she made it sound like some.. Grand and essential decision! To travel with her into this life of death and constant trial!

In her mind, reverberating through the way she acted, she couldn't know what tomorrow brought. Maybe she'd turn to some monster and leave the encampment covered in scraps of her friends' flesh and bone. Maybe Alcuin would put a knife to her throat in the night. And what he said about those mushrooms? That was a genuine concern. There was probably a REASON why she wasn't allowed to imbibe that yet. But all of that— all of that felt like a 'tomorrow' thing. Right now, things were good, and she was happy. On her part, she was wholly committing herself to living day by day, seeing how far they could go with this. And the idea of going hunting with Alcuin? That felt good, too.
Jose
The young elf was indeed caught entirely off guard by the berserker's sudden lunge. While he was getting used to her, only her, touching him, they didn't generally hug. It was quite a lot more than he was ready for; a more normal, gentle hug would've been a bit overwhelming. But this was sudden, forceful, *And* Stinky. He stumbled back a few steps in her overzealous embrace, initially making feeble attempts to push her away in a panic, her strength squeezing the breath out of him for a moment. His gasp of an inhale only assaulted his senses; he'd honestly grown somewhat fond of her usual musk, and he could handle that. But the straight up body odor was a bit much, and he made a mental note to suggest...*Some* Kind of bathing later. How they'd accomplish it with snow on the ground, he wasn't sure, but it was about to become rather necessary. Once the panic and the disgust subsided some, it was like the world shifted a little.
** **

When was the last time anyone had embraced him so? Alcuin honestly wasn't sure. While his parents cared for him, they retracted a good deal of their love and affection after he returned from the Lands Beyond. It happened slowly, over time, but it happened all the same. Likely... It had been over thirty years since he had been hugged, longer than his friend had been alive. Far more focused on how invasive and claustrophobic he was worried it would feel in the past, he had forgotten how *Warm* And *Comforting* A hug could be. How reassuring it could be that someone cared for you, was on your side, had your back. He found himself overcome by positive emotion rather than negative, a lump in his throat and his eyes stinging with tears. Briefly and a little clumsily, he returned the embrace, squeezing his friend tightly with all the might in his weak little body. All of this happened and ran through his head in a matter of seconds, as soon Yrsa was cackling and roughly messing up his hair. Swallowing down the emotion and putting on a warm smile was easy, as Yrsa pushed back and shot him a wide grin. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to put into words all the joy she'd brought him, or how grateful he was to have met her. For now, staying by her side, helping her meet her goals, would have to do.
** **

Combing through his now very wild brown hair with his fingers, the warlock had rather entirely forgotten his troubles, had almost forgotten why they'd even come here to begin with, and listened to her go on with rapt attention. Laughing quite heartily, gave up on his hair and regarded her with a quirked brow and a smirk, **"Fine, my friend, have it your way. The next time we slay a great, edible beast... I'll try some."** His smile widened and his brown eyes held that darkness she had first seen upon meeting him, but... It was *More* Sinister somehow. **"I'll listen more to the part of me that's** Very **Excited to do great slaughter with you... We'll paint the Empire red, together!"** He made no theatrics and there was no joke in his tone; he was quite serious. 

A large structure suddenly looming up in front of them on their path stopped the healer in his tracks. He looked up at it curiously, the nameplate so archaic that he had no hope of reading what it said. The metal gate to the mausoleum was ajar, the lock seemingly broken long ago. Alcuin felt himself drawn to this place, felt a strong pull to go inside. Somewhat seeming in a trance, he said in a slight monotone, **"Let's... Go in here. Maybe they things we're looking for are inside."** Cautiously, he pushed the gate open further, its loud *Creeeeeaaakkk* Announcing their presence. Not that he expected there to be anything or anyone inside... But it wouldn't be the first time he was wrong. And it certainly wouldn't be the last.
William
.. And if that was enough for them, for now, then- that was fine, wasn't it? Even after turning away from Alcuin and refocusing herself on the road ahead, and what they were doing, a gentle smile still lingered on her lips. And by that measure, anyone could see that it was genuine. It wasn't another one of her barbarian hustles or ploys, not another battle scream or what have you, just simple contentment. And it's weird, too, .. Maybe it WASN'T so much that she needed to go at it on her lonesome. Because, despite her day-by-day philosophy, she DID have a feeling that she needed to figure stuff out, that.. There was some invincible weight on her, and she couldn't rely on her 'uncle' anymore.

It was all contradictory, but that's just how people work sometimes. And while she wasn't exactly the type to dwell on great introspection—far from it—she did sort of think about how she got here. It felt like Alcuin had been pretty guarded up to this point. And just his emotions—to see them like that? That meant a lot, even if she didn't say as much!

It did beg another question, though. Yrsa glanced at him briefly when he mentioned they'd paint the Empire red. She didn't judge him for it; she didn't really know enough to say anything on it- but, she did sorta wonder— wasn't he a part of this Empire? Didn't he like the Empire? .. And it didn't necessarily sound like him, either. He spoke about some sort of.. Master patron or— well, she didn't really get it, but he did say he heard something talk to him.

And she wasn't sure why. But it sounded more like it came from whatever it was. Maybe the creature trying to influence him intended to bloody the Empire?

Well, that was all just speculation on her part. She answered it with a continued smile, not really digging deeper into it; she'd ventured to these lands to find employment .. And out to the north-east, she *Had* Allied with pro and anti-Imperial forces before. Stray barbarian chiefs. The occasional, lost general. It was common. And if Alcuin wanted to take the fight to them, well.. Maybe..

Did her former master ever consider those things? Like.. Allegiance and working for one thing or-

Yrsa wasn't smart enough to hide those sorts of intentions. But for the first time in her life, she figured that maybe she needed to know more about stuff before she could help her friend with that particular problem. So that's where she left it; on a high note, with a smile, she resolved to find out more about this strange land later. Besides...!! They had more important matters to tend to.

-

Even after combing through the entirety of the graveyard, going from gravestone to gravestone while they chatted about stuff together, they hadn't struck gold yet. Alcuin did say those flowers were rare, so, their run-in with what had to be the largest crypt around would happen sooner or later. There were various mausoleum structures around, undoubtedly dedicated to families and such. Still, this one had to be the largest - with stone gargoyles carved into the rocky roof and ornate window slits that once seemed to have been decorated with painted glass. It had a gothic-style architecture, with jagged points at the top of the fencing to prevent intruders from climbing over it, though Alcuin's mild exertion to open the gate made that unnecessary.

The majority of the graveyard wasn't all that special. But this? .. It'd be hard to pinpoint, but it might've felt a little colder than the rest of the area. A chill wind emanated from the mausoleum's insides as Alcuin pushed it open, but.. That couldn't be, right? That place should've led underground. Sure enough, a constant wind current seemed to come from the place's depths. It was hardly noticeable, just a faint sensation, but it was still there. — Yrsa came to stand beside Alcuin, lowering her right hand down upon her hip.

Her tattered, bear-fur regalia rustled along with that breeze, and her stray strands of auburn hair moved with it, too.

"... Are you sure of this?" Yrsa thinned her lips and ran her tongue across them, squeezing in some air with a twinkle of humor shooting through her right eye - with which she had been observing Alcuin. ".. My friend Alcuin. I shall say this in honest means. I am not the witch; you are the witch, but.. If I have ever seen a cursed place, then, it must surely be this." She said, somewhat deadpan. She turned toward him a bit, opening her palms as to add a brief gesture to her logic;

"And.. Also, I cannot wrestle ghost. They are like.. Air. Maybe I can wrestle the air, but it always runs away."

She had something of a feeling about this entire thing, though. Yea, she did encourage him, and that probably did something - allowed him to embrace certain stuff. But it also felt so... Incredibly anti-Alcuin to— argh, she couldn't put her finger on it! But she did notice that it was like.. Something was trying to LURE him here like something was getting him to think a certain way. His trance-like state was what got her to think about that the most.

Her words had her pause a moment. She crossed her arms, closed her eyes, and shook her head with a light 'tut', a sizeable shit-eating grin on her lips. Ghosts?! PFRGAH. The only thing SHE feared was COWS. Wretched devil creatures! But semi-transparent dead people? She tried to shoot Alcuin a brief look and expression, like she was just playing with him a little, stepping into the darkened crypt with a resolution a moment after he did.

"Of course.. This means they are more scared of me, than me, .. Them!"
Jose
Alcuin felt it was a godsend how easy Yrsa was to read. For someone like him, so constantly preoccupied with how the people around him felt about him, so primed to be immediately rejected, it was a relief and great comfort to know that whatever she was feeling would be simply shown on her face. And a great bonus, whatever she was thinking would likely come right out of her mouth! Not that he didn't think she was capable of deeper thought or that she couldn't keep things to herself, but outside of some rare occasions, she generally seemed to enjoy making her internal world more externally known. It was effortless for him to return her contented smile, because he felt just the same way. For better or for worse, they seemed to be joined at the hip, now. The fearful part of him was painfully aware of the atrocities they could cause together, given time and the ability to grow in power. But as he glanced sidelong at his companion, he felt that somehow, she wouldn't let it get out of hand. For all her talk of hunting elk and loving fighting, he got the sense, too, that she loved *Him*. Not in a sappy romantic way, but in a trauma-bonded, found family sort of way. That she would try her best to give him room to grow, whatever that looked like, without letting him lose the things that made him essentially himself. At least, he swallowed nervously, that was what he *Hoped* Would happen.
** **

While the warlock was aware of what he was saying, it didn't entirely land in his brain beyond 'do murder.' The pull he was feeling had become quite distracting, and he might have already begun to, unintentionally, do the letting loose he had promised to do. Besides, he was becoming quite resigned to the fact that... He would become a killer. The transformation wasn't complete, and he was still grieving even the tiniest pieces of himself he had already lost... But he knew he had already passed the point of no return. His life, his body, and his soul were no longer his own; they were just borrowed, for however long his patroness saw fit. It sat heavy on him, and he was beginning to find ways to bear that weight, but it was a transition that would take him time. For now, all he could do was try to keep letting go just a little more, and a little more, and a little more still, until he was able to fulfill his duty to a point of satisfaction for his patron.
** **

The alchemist would've been appalled at his statement, had he noted the individual words. While he wasn't interested in politics and only vaguely cared for the Empire, it was Velaris to which he truly felt any allegiance. The land of his birth and the home of his people called to him, like to so many elves before him. He didn't love being away from home, from the magical forests with their impossibly tall trees, the wall of mountains that served to protect them, or the rivers that helped sustain life. But what he was becoming wasn't fit for Velaris. He would rather be self-exiled the rest of his life than harm any of the people or the land of his home. The rest of the Empire, too, he had vague feelings of protectiveness towards. But he was also aware that to meet the objectives he would likely be set, *Someone* Had to die, and he knew for a fact he couldn't survive outside the Empire. So turn against his own, he would have to.
** **

But these were vague thoughts bouncing around his subconscious as they walked and began to approach the mausoleum. He didn't notice the chill in the air or the gentle breeze that shouldn't have existed. It felt like something had grabbed him by the heart and was gently, slowly tugging; he felt both longing and terrible curiosity that felt... Planted there, not emotions that had naturally arose within him. But even with such knowledge, he found he didn't have the willpower to deny them, even as the hair on the back of his neck raised and he felt goosebumps on his limbs. Shooting a quick glance at Yrsa, his expression was determined, his usual warmth replaced by the driven curiosity he felt, **"I'm sure. And I understand."** His voice was steady, no trace of the fear he felt present in it; partly because it felt like that fear was being muffled. He *Knew* He should be scared, should be looking at this as Yrsa was, but he couldn't get his heart or mind to go those directions. The cloudiness that had been in his eyes briefly was gone; whatever bewitched him had released its grip some. Though the lure remained, and with a hiss of pain he felt it tug harder in his chest. **"There's** Something **Here... Something I think I must see... Or do? I don't know."** He made his way further inside, hoping to dissuade any further painful pulls, rubbing his chest as if that could soothe the sting deep within it.
** **

Yrsa's confident proclamations were a welcome distraction and background noise as they entered the crypt proper. The inside was as ornate as the outside, though even with darkvision it was hard to make out the finer details of the sculptures. A single sarcophagus lay in the center of the room, and he approached cautiously. As he neared it, torches in all four corners of the room immediately lit with an eerie purple fire; it felt... Cold, somehow, rather than hot. He met Yrsa's eyes for a moment, a look that said she could leave anytime she needed to, this was his thing, his fight. But after a moment of holding her icy blue gaze, he felt certain death would be the only thing that could actually separate them. With a nod to her, he turned to look into the sarcophagus now that there was light. The lid was off, half broken to the side, and the end closest to him was broken as well, that wall nearly completely gone. He peered over and down, a small gasp then slight chuckle leaving him. He turned back to Yrsa with a smirk that spoke of adventure, **"It's empty... But there's a staircase leading down."**