Blackwater Islands Another drink down the drain

set following the ceremony, whenever works, and no rush <3  updated for behind the scenes assumptions

Only if you like, ofc.  If you are too slammed on threads this can wait or we can resolve bts

Wherever they'd taken her, Bridget's head was splitting as she woke up from (what had to be) the worst trip she'd ever taken.  It was impossible at first for her to do much besides groan and come to terms with the feeling.  After a few minutes, however, she was able to somewhat reflect and take stock.

There was really only one explanation and she was practiced enough to not take long to get there.  Hell no.  Hell to the fuck no, they did not...

They'd fucking drugged her.

She'd have been spitting mad regardless, but the headache was not doing her reaction to it any favors.  The faeries had been no strangers to drugs but Bridget, herself, had never participated.  She wasn't one to judge but she hated what the shit did and wasn't even willing to use it for pain control in most cases.  But here she was, with a night she couldn't remember and a fucking hangover the size of an oak tree jammed into her skull.

I'm going to murder them. Bridget's expression blazed abject fury as her gaze fixated on @Morgana.  The previous night was too muddy to recall exactly who was responsible, let alone why, but that didn't matter.  She deserved an explanation at the least.  It was a violation, one that set the medic off both on a personal and professional level, and she intended to get some answers about it.  What did you give me?

she hadn’t taken her eyes off of bridget since she had returned to where she last rested. even as the berry’s effects wore off and sleep tugged at her eyelids, morgana sat against the wall.

after time had well dragged on, she roused. a look of blind fury was shot towards the speaker.

an eldritch berry. morgana’s voice, quiet as it was now, made her skull creak.

she was unknowing to why bridget gave her such a twisted look. she sought to it figure out.

have you ever been under the effect of it? of any berries?

Bridget didn't understand how she could look surprised. Did she not see how fucked up it was, what they'd done? It doesn't matter, does it?! You didn't ask, or tell me. Maybe you can pull that shit if it's an emergency, but I don't look dead to me. Bridget growled, punctuating the warning. She'd have liked to have stood on equal ground, maybe gotten in her face a little, but her head ached to the point of nausea.

So, why'd you do it? She couldn't remember. All she had glimpses of was some kind of a terrible dream, one where she'd seen a scene repeat. The faces had faded... maybe it had been her mother, maybe once her father, but she definitely remembered the feeling of despair. It still lingered. What happened last night? Her mouth was dry, but she could still taste the copper tinge of blood.

there lies the root of her anger. a loss of choice. it is spat to her with such ferocity. this, morgana thought with a soft sigh — would be a problem if left to fester within the transient’s mind. and so it fell upon her to put an end to her rage from the source.

morgana feigned confusion with a frown. i came to you before our gathering and asked if you wished to take part in it. i told you what that entailed. the berries. its effects. everything. you agreed to all of it.

she sighed once more, a bit louder this time. her gaze turned towards the chamber’s wall.

you wound me with such wild accusations.

You are really going to stand there and drop that bullshit? Now Bridget did push herself to her feet, standing unsteadily and staring with a mixture of disbelief and affront. She might not remember the night, but she knew that was an outright lie. And it was a damn cocky one for the woman to make, to assume that Bridget wouldn't know herself well enough to know if she'd agree to that sort of shit. The fucking balls on her.

You still haven't said why. For how rough she was feeling, she was also feeling a little cagey. Her pelt prickled with static irritation, the sensation carrying though to her gut and making it surprisingly tempting to lunge at The Speaker right now and try to take her muzzle to the floor. It was a fight she was currently winning, but the struggle wasn't all that easy to hide. She'd be on her ass in two seconds flat, no doubt, but that didn't mean she was willing to be smart about this.

sneaky sneaks in here

Following after the ritual, Nyra had not yet begun her routine of patrolling.
Her head pulsed, creaking slightly as she breathed and prowled through the territory, and from hearing some bits of verbal altercation in the halls, the Warmaiden began entering the Fey Chamber to see one of the ritual participants, Bridget, looking like she was going to try and attack Morgana any second. 

Quiet and looming like a seraphic sentinel, Nyra came up beside Morgana with a razored look of warning to Bridget, piercing and baleflame. 
The Wardog said nothing, not yet anyway, instead playing the part of a sword, pointed and ready to act if needed.

the listener was near.

listening, as the name implied.

even in her weakened state, bridget's progress was a mounting pressure nestled between her shoulders, a burden that could not be shed. the new acolyte could not be allowed to slip. and as the voices rose, the listener knew that morgana could not be left alone to her task. but she had set the stage quite well.

enter the prophet, all billowing robes and elegant head held high. a pale sentinel heralded the entrance of the dark priestess. to nyra she gave a single nod, approval glimmering in her gaze.

the speaker acts on my orders, the listener spoke in cool, soothing tones as she looked to bridget. i had hoped to shield you from the truth until you recovered.

a moment, to allow this to settle.

you were unlike yourself that night. fearful. violent. maddened. i do not know what spirit held you in its possession. a rite was performed to banish the madness from you, but you lashed out as my druids worked their magick. one of our own was hurt. her blood still marks you. the berries were not meant for you, and i do not believe you meant to eat them. no more than i believe you meant to harm a druid.

the listener watched carefully.

i hope you guys don't mind this. let me know if i should change the part regarding rasha's blood (:

lmk if I'm not okay to skip and I can delete, felt like it made sense for her to respond here <3 if you don't mind a slight shift in order

Nyra wouldn't have dissuaded Bridget from getting answers by force if need be. Her growl lowered slightly in pitch, actually, at the perceived threat. If they were trying to gain her trust and play this off as a kindness, they were doing a real shit job of it.

Rather than scare her off, the challenge only made her angrier.

Fortunately (for Bridget, probably) The Listener chose that tense moment to sweep in. Of all of them, her explanation made the most sense. If it had come first she would have dropped it without another thought... but Morgana had outright lied and Nyra was playing defense. Her back was up. Something wasn't right here.

If they pull anything like this again, I'm out.. She didn't care if she would have to float her way back to the mainland.

She'd keep a close eye out from here on out, but it was clear this was the only answer she was going to get. Her gaze flicked from Morgana to Nyra, narrowed, before landing on The Listener. The taste of blood was what did it... clearly something had happened. Are they alright?

She wasn't about to accept the full blame for something she had a sense wasn't entirely her fault, but if someone had gotten hurt, then that was a problem. It was believable... if she'd somehow gotten drugged, then felt cornered, she was absolutely capable of what they said she had done.

her skepticism does not phase morgana. lies are not so easily woven into minds after all. especially not ones as bold as this. give her a little more time to work the magic she’d practiced for so long. it would take hold in the end.

it did, however, shock her when bridget pushed herself upward. morgana did well to conceal it. she turned to her, met her gaze with one of disapproval and offense. how dare she stare into the eyes of her keeper with such a flame?

sit down, she hissed softly, you will hurt yourself.

from the corner of her eye she saw a giant come to her side. then came the listener.

morgana turned her eyes away from bridget and laid them upon her dreamwalker. she’d picked up pieces of the speaker’s lies and aligned them in a way bridget could believe. there was a sense of pride that burst within morgana.

bridget asked how the druid faired. even morgana did not know the answer to this, not the whole answer. she could recall bits and pieces, but there remained one loud constant.

blood. she turned to the acolyte. there was so much blood.

I’ve gotten permission to swap places with Nyra. the new post order is Bridget > Morgana > Nyra > The Listener (please correct me if I’m wrong!)

the listener bowed her head in acknowledgement of the words spoken by bridget and the speaker. the pale queen stood silent, a looming sentinel behind the druids. the listener's features were solemn when she next looked upon the new acolyte.

my druids remember little of what transpired. we had already begun our rite, which calls for the consumption of the sacred berries, when the violence began. we know only that the stormborn, the one you struck, has gone to the unnamed god, this she explained softly, her words weighted yet calm. i have given morgana the task of watching over you to ensure this does not happen again.

permission given to skip & powerplay nyra <33

She was tired and her head was pounding, but Morgana's hissed command killed any desire she had to sit down. She stayed where she was, stubborn as a mule, and stared at the Listener while she spoke. All the while her mind was racing to put together what had happened.

She didn't remember anything except fear. That and the awful, horrible feeling of despair she'd felt when she woke up. Something had happened to Teya... or was it her mother? She'd seen her parents, and Lucretia... fucking hell. It was a mess and it was slipping away too fast.

She'd definitely been afraid, and she'd definitely had a hell of a nightmare. It wasn't unreasonable to think that what they said was true and, if it was, that means she'd potentially killed one of their own. It was a heavy accusation, but Bridget didn't read blame in their voices. She hardly would have accepted it - it was their negligence either way, not keeping a leash on their supplies. She shouldn't have gotten a hold of something so potent even by accident.

But the lack of blame did a measure more to tick down her aggression. I'm sure it won't. But fine. If being under watch was her punishment, she'd accept it - for a while. I'm sorry, for the loss. Not for her part in it, but even if she didn't know anyone here but the two of them, she didn't like that they'd had someone die even partially on account of her. It marked her even more in the red, notches accumulating that eventually she'd need to make good on.