Fantasy A Magic's Folly

[Cychotic]

A Magic's Folly​

| "MAGIC CHOOSES ITS USER."
That is how it has always been in the four worlds of Vestari, where the ability to harness the energy of magic is not carried down by bloodline nor given to one by ritual. Instead, magic pulses, a live thrum that chooses its host, turning the veins of its user black with a different energy. For each century, only four magic bearers are born, one serving each kingdom as its messengers. These Bearers hold more power than regular Users, allowing them to create doorways between the worlds. They act as royal messenger, keeping the worlds at peace and stable, causing them to be highly regarded by citizens.

But when a catastrophic opening in the magical field reveals a world once thought loss, a new Bearer is needed to keep all five worlds from collapsing into nothingness.

OOC | CHARACTERShttps://www.rpnation.com/threads/cs-a-magics-folly.322813/

CHAPTERS
1 | A New Arising​

 

[Cychotic]

1 | A New Arising​

| "MAY OUR HARBOURS BE CROWDED AND OUR SHIPS BE PLENTY."
Deep within a crowded wood, where the ground sparkled with be-speckled moonlight, and the leaves ruffled gently, Faun danced with Aster. The two pranced, hovering in the air as sparks of magic ignited between them, swirling around a pool of milky white water. Its surface flickered with images of the four worlds, showing scenes of bustling life and silent rivers. Its rocks glistened with a rainbow hue, and upon one of the largest rocks sat Veyn, his hands covered in chalk. He looked at the two boisterous beings, his jaw set in a hard line. The man had no time for the pair as his eyes were cast down, peering into the flickering visions. Veyn spent a majority of tonight's get together at the Pool of Providence, hovering over it like a hawk searching for prey. The man ached in his bones, a feeling that often came to him before a catastrophic event hit Vestari like a meteorite. It happened before, having some unpleasant results. But no matter, this time he would prevent it.

"You look happy," laughed a voice from across the pool. Newt stood with her hands to her hips, eyebrow raised with amusement. "It seems as if you're rather enjoying the foolishness of my world," she quipped, appearing suddenly next to Veyn. The man shook his head with disdain.

"Not so," he replied, dryness in his tone.
"Bad feeling?" the woman inquired, brushing her red hair away from her eyes.
Veyn hummed in response, taking his eyes off the pool to turn to Newt.
"Just let it happen. They should be able to cope with it." The woman rolled her eyes. "You're ruining the party, you big, grumpy oaf."
"I have better things to do," Veyn growled, running his hands through his beard. "After all, I care -"

He was interrupted by an amused chuckle, amplified by magic. The laugh faded as a figure stepped from the trees, its body cloaked with dark fabric. Aster and Faun stopped suddenly, eyeing the visitor with suspicion. Aster unhanded her partner, walking towards the figure with a blue flame flickering in her hand. It was not often that visitors came to their domain; visitors meant trouble. Especially this one in particular. Faun's eyes widened with recognition and he spoke, his voice husky, a semblance to the wood he loved.

"You are not welcome here."

"Long time no see," he smirked. "I'm as loved as ever."

The figure's cloak disappeared revealing a pale man with raven curls, his boyish face was in a soft smile. The pond glistened, its color turning dark with the colour of blood, and Newt's eyes widened as she watched a new world form from its ashes.

---​

| Your character is currently in an emergency meeting with the Oracle, a being who foresees the future. You were given the situation upon arriving, with little to no explanation as to why the world came back. Assuming that the Oracle had just explained the vague circumstances of your journey through the parcel your received, please write your character into this scene as they enter the meeting.

 

[Cychotic]

Florian​

Bright lights twinkled above Florian's head, the lights coming from floating spheres of glass with small, flickering candles sitting within them. The magician eyed the familiar room with a sense of exhaustion, knowing that the meeting being held would garner a large amount of questions. "They won't take it well," he murmured, directing his words towards the figure sitting across from him.

The table was rectangular, rimmed with golden trimming, its legs curved gracefully. Seven chairs surrounded it, each coloured differently for each of the magicians that would soon accommodate them. Two were filled; Florian himself sat upon a chair dusted with silver, leaves flowing from its legs and its frame. The Oracle took the space on the other; the chair's frame was large as if made of oak. The Oracle himself was old, his grey hairs flowing in a long beard, his eyes tucked in with wrinkles surrounding his blue irises. The Oracle had on his basic attire, robes that always seemed to flow regardless of wind, the fabric intricately made with golden designs that shimmered in the light. His eyes landed on Florian and he shook his head in response to the Guide's words.

Florian clasped his hands together, sighing as he eyed the door with wariness. There was no telling if the Bearers would readily accept the circumstances laid upon them nor if they would allow even a moment's worth of cooperation to even reach the goal needed. From what he had heard, the generation of Bearers before the current were turbulent, only willing to set aside their difference because of the rules. If possible, they would have tore at each other's throats relentlessly. Ian himself had not met the current Bearers, and gods hope they were not alike those from before. He rested his chin on his palm, readying himself by plastering a look of boredom on his visage.

Quick Info
Full Name: Florian Ethers
Title: The White Hare
Nickname: Ian
Age: 23
Height: 5'8"

Character Sheet

 

[Rari]

Sodales Besonna Runal

Mentioned: Cychotic


Apprehension was all Sodales felt as he made way through a place long unfamiliar to him. A summons by the Oracle under normal circumstances is a cause for grave concern. Truly he seldom, if ever, made contact with the Bearers unless it was of the highest importance. But, a summons to all Bearers meant something earth shattering. A strange letter bearing the Oracle's insignia, and a quiet demand that he move with a sense of urgency.. The discussion that would soon take place will have a profound resound across all four worlds.

"This will also be the first time all four of us are together in the same room. Only took potentially the greatest event in the last century." He smirked to himself lightly, an inaudible chuckle in his throat. Bearers past did not have a comforting reputation when gathered, so there was no reason to expect this be any different.

Reaching the room he had sought out for the last ten minutes, Sodales adjusted his cloak before quietly entering the room. Greeted by the gaze of two people, one familiar and the other not, he felt as if he had arrived earlier than expected. The Oracle, imposing as ever, and a stranger worthy of being in attendance.

"Greetings, Oracle, I came as soon as time allowed," He announced respectfully, bowing gracefully as due respect. Righting himself he turned to the stranger and nodded his head slightly, before crossing to the table. Every chair was different, seemingly crafted specifically those in attendance. Seven in total, which meant there was one other person worthy of attendance that had yet to show. Looking briefly at each chair, he took a seat in one to the left of the stranger. Dense oak, smelling of sun and the sea air. Carved along the back were intricate runes, which all but confirmed that this was the chair meant for a Veynian.

Whoever crafted the chair must have been quite the patriot. "For the prosperity of Veyn, at all costs and above all others,". Quite the message to carve on a chair in a place of cooperation and unity.

After he rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands together Sodales questioned to no one in particular, "How soon should we expect the others?"

 

[Cychotic]

Florian​

A tip of his head was all the action the Veynian Bearer had given Florian upon entrance. He sat himself at his chair, his cloak swaying as he moved. A name tugged at the premises of the Guide's mind, a flicker of familiarity occurring as soon as he gave the man another look. Sodales, yes, that was the name. The Bearer of Veyn had a notable reputation; Florian knew him as the patriotic and loyal man who had an aura of power surrounding him. That power was apparent, one simple glance would be all that was needed to determine such a thing. However, he did appreciate the similarity of his hair to Florian's. White was a colour of purity, something Florian often blurred the lines of. A smile grew on his face, not one of joy, but one of silent amusement.

The Oracle himself gave Sodales an approving nod, his face one of patience. "The others should arrive in just a moment," he spoke. "We should not have to wait long."

A small silence ensued; Florian cleared his throat, brushing a stray strand of shockingly white hair away from his face.

"Florian Ethers," he introduced himself. The Guide leaned back on the chair, his legs crossing in a neat fold. "Your guide for the coming journey." His eyes flitted to the Oracle, who gave no reaction to his abrupt speech. Unsure of how much information he was allowed to give, he left his introduction short without any more words. Any questions would have to be answered by the Oracle, and Ian expected there to be a flurry of inquiries once the rest of the Bearers arrived.

Rari
Quick Info
Full Name: Florian Ethers
Title: The White Hare
Nickname: Ian
Age: 23
Height: 5'8"

Character Sheet

 

[Alexander Time]

Romulus Estar Banin
It had been at least five years since Romulus had seen or spoken to the Oracle, so the delivery of a parcel to his home in the wilds had been unexpected. A summons. He had been frustrated by its lack of answers, and its ambiguity had nearly made him ignore it altogether, but he knew he could not. A summoning of all living bearers was incredibly rare, and he determined to go, to satisfy his curiosity if nothing else.

Traversing quietly along the halls of a once-familiar place now, Romulus eyed the simple yet elegant trappings covering the walls. Some number of paintings gave the hall life, depicting battles waged and bearers gathered together. A smile played on Romulus' lips as he thought of the possibility that the meeting he was soon to attend would adorn the walls here years in the future.

Finally arriving at his destination, he raked his hand through his often unruly hair, and stepped inside. Taking a moment, Romulus' eyes traveled over the three occupants of the room and the various chairs surrounding an ornate rectangular table. He took quick note of the attire of the Oracle as well as the strangers; somewhat in contrast to his own simple brown garments. It had been a long time since he'd opted for a cloak, and he wasn't about to start now. Giving the Oracle a stiff bow and nodding towards the two strangers, Romulus took his own seat, leaving a space between himself and the Oracle.

The chair itself was built of a light wood like birch. It had no sharp edges, the crafter had opted instead for smooth, round curves. The surface of the chair was emblazoned with obsidian, traveling across it like veins. The backside of the chair had four simple circles carved upon it, a signal to Romulus as well as a symbol of the four worlds. Leaning forward and folding his hands together upon the table, Romulus glanced at the Oracle before eyeing the two across from him. "Romulus, or Estar if that's too long for you." This was business, not pleasure. Romulus didn't intend to get too comfortable yet.

 

[Lost]

░░ Marcellus Warren ░░​

Cychotic Rari Alexander Time

​

Marcel watched the crowd, a look of awe plastered on
his face. He never expected the area near the Oracle to be so populated. He'd envisioned the soothsayer as an
isolated old man, one who lived far from the grip of civilization. Then again, that was probably due to his Aster mindset. They always did put a fairy-tale spin on things back home.

The young man looked past the people, and saw a
string of hastily made outdoor stores. One in particular,
a book shop, caught his eye. He started towards the shop, then hesitated. Would he have time to spend in town before he
was due at the Oracle's court? He
turned his gaze to the sky, and felt relief melt away his worry. It was hardly noon; the Oracle didn't expect him until much later.
With renewed vigor he set off towards the shop again.

Marcel pushed through the crowd, eventually making it to the shop. The vendor, a burly man sporting a big red beard and an even bigger nose, perked up when he saw Marcel. "Why, hello there! Anything tickle your fancy?"

Marcel skimmed through his wares, until his eyes
settled on what he wanted: An old, faded sketchbook. "Daas Vêtie," he hummed, and pointed to the book. The shopkeeper frowned, and Marcel caught himself. "This one, I mean."

The vendor still looked puzzled, but he seemed to let it go. "50 gold." Marcel paid the man. He picked up his
book with a grin. Today was turning out to be a fine
day. He looked up at the sky; it was time he headed
to the Oracle. He set off, smile still on his face.

As Marcel was walking, he felt a man bump into him. He turned to apologize, but the passerby was gone. Marcel shrugged it off, and continued towards the Oracle.

He had to push his was through the crowd, but eventually he reached the building the meeting was said to be
held in. Before he could enter, however, two spears blocked his path. He stumbled backwards, and only now did he see the two guards on either side of the entrance.

One of the two guards eyed him with annoyance. "Proof of entry, please." Marcel felt his face heat up. Of course there would be security protecting the Oracle. He pushed away his rising embarrassment and instead went to grab the letter.

Only to find it wasn't there.

He frowned, and checked the pocket again. When his hand grasped nothing but air, he felt the panic set in. He started vigorously patting himself down, searching frantically for the note. The guards watched him with amusement. "Look buddy," the one who had spoken earlier said, "We know you don't have permission, and you know you don't have permission. Save us both the trouble and get out of here."

"The Oracle is expecting me, I assure you." He stopped his search as an idea came to him. He held his hands out, palms upwards. "I can show you." He sought deep within himself, until he found the familiar pools of magic the resided within his very being. Tapping into them, he summoned a ball of light in one hand, and a ball of darkness in the other.

The guards' eyes widened. "He's preparing to attack!" One of them shouted.

Marcel mirrored the guard's surprise. He raised his hands in front of his chest, dispelling the magic. "No, I was simply sho-" He was interrupted, however, by the butt of a spear crashing into his head.

Then everything went black.
--------------------------------------------
Marcel opened his eyes, then shut them tight as a wave of pain coursed through his head. He tried to move his hands, but found them bound with rope.

A guard, one he hadn't seen with the other two, noticed his arousal. He grinned at Marcel. "Nice try, friend. It takes some guts to attack two guards in broad daylight." Marcel opened his mouth, but the guard held up a hand. "None of that 'I'm innocent,' crap. This shift is already long enough." He turned back to watch the crowds, then, almost as an afterthought, added "You'll wait here until the Oracle is done with his meeting."

Marcel groaned. A fine day, he had thought.

A fine day indeed.

code by [COLOR=#CBCBCB]aukanai[/COLOR] --- for Lost 's use only​

 

[Cychotic]

Florian​

Recognition lit in Florian's red irises as his gaze landed casually on Estar, a man who would most likely hold no memory of the Guide. It had been some time since his eyes have set themselves on such a face, one that had saved a large number of the Sanctuary's inhabitants. But Estar soon vanished; no one bothered searching after him, a Bearer was allowed to do what he wished in Faun, as long as it did not endanger the lives of others. He noticed with a keen eye the lack of the cloak Romulus had once worn before, not as surprising as the man's quick escape.

Florian purred softly, as if looking at prey. The Oracle gave Romulus a small smile, one reserved solely for those he had a fond area for in the land of Faun.

"Welcome back, Romulus," the Oracle spoke, his tone one filled with affection. He soon turned his head towards Florian. "It seems you are needed in the Keep."

The Guide stood up in a flourish, a dramatic state of movement that left his long jacket flowing in the air. He bowed swiftly, turning his heel and making his way out of the room. Florian's gait was smooth, his strides lengthy as he strolled through the lavish walls, a mural of the Four World's long history. At last he ended up in a sparse hallway with open arches; two guards dressed in armor stood at attention in front of a large, wooden door. A gesture of hand was all he needed to fling the doors inward. The guards gave no question to his presence, they knew all too well who he was.

The room inside smelled of musty floras, its dark halls lit up with torches seemingly without fuel. It was the work of countless mages to keep the Sanctuary lit without tainting the nature around them. He turned a corner, his eyes resting on two guards that surrounding yet another familiar face. It seemed that Marcellus had gotten in quite a bit of trouble on his way here.

Florian clasped his hands behind his back, an eyebrow raised towards the guards. He was not surprised about their ignorance towards who the person was, surprisingly bound, at their feet. "Boys, what are you doing with this man?" The Guide knelt, placing a hand at the ropes and burning away the constraints slowly. "I hope these men have not given you too much trouble. They will be seen to accordingly for treating Marcellus Warren in such a manner." His lips curled in a smirk as the guards' eyes widened in disbelief. The iron-clad warriors muttered apologies, and behind those plates of armor, Florian could almost feel their embarrassment. Hot, red as coals was the feeling.

Holding out a hand, the Guide up righted the poor fellow before dusting his pants and standing up abruptly. "Best be on our way now, the Oracle should not be kept waiting for long." With that, Florian walked out of the hall, turning forward without seeing whether of not the other Guide was quick enough to follow.

Rari
Lost
Quick Info
Full Name: Florian Ethers
Title: The White Hare
Nickname: Ian
Age: 23
Height: 5'8"

Character Sheet

 

[Rari]

Sodales Besonna Runal

Mentioned: Alexander Time


Florian Ethers. A name completely unfamiliar, so it could be surmised he was not royalty. Or anyone particularly well-known for that matter; not well known in Veyn, at least. He was most likely a sanctuary guardian for the Oracle. Much like everyone in Aster and Faun he smelled strongly of magical essence. A magic user no doubt, but what intrigued Sodales most about this strange ashen-hair fellow was his relation to the Veynian Bearer. He was meant to be a guide to him, and presumably the other Bearers, on a coming journey if the Oracle's word's held any truth. Which, they always did.

"No doubt said journey will be covered in today's meeting." He mused, before the creaking of a door signaled a new occupant in the apprehensive atmosphere of the room. A man with a somber atmosphere, and conservative attire.

With no words of greeting he gave a stiff bow and situated himself next to the Oracle. His gazed directed itself across the table at Sodales and Florian. He gave a short, concise, introduction. No frills and to the point, with the deadpan delivery of someone concerned with business only.

Just as soon as the room grew more crowded, it went back to two occupants as Florian was sent away by the Oracle to attend to some matter in the keep. Seeking to fill the silence of the room, Sodales commented aloud,

"Romulus Banin, I presume? I heard a little about you during my first trip here last year. But, sadly, did not get the chance to speak with you," He gave an amused smile, "Sodales, the Bearer of Veyn,"

 

[Lost]

░░ Marcellus Warren ░░​

Cychotic

​

Marcel rubbed his wrists before setting off after his comrade. "Thank you, Florian." He smiled sheepishly. "I believe that's the third time you've saved my skin since we have met." He walked along with Florian in silence, until he cast a glance back at the guards, whose heads were hung in shame. "Don't be too hard on them." He smiled warmly. "I do admit, I was fairly suspicious."

He quieted down again, and took a moment to observe the halls. The walls were adorned with beautiful paintings, and Marcel was certain more than a few of them were antique. The building was more like a home than a palace. Briefly, he wondered who funded the Oracle. Surely he cannot live off of donations alone, he thought to himself. Whatever the case, the soothsayer certainly had acquired taste.

code by aukanai --- for Lost 's use only​

 

[Cychotic]

Florian​

Florian quirked an brow at Marcellus, stopping rather abruptly to ask a question. "Third time?" he inquired, resuming his walk. The Guide ignored the other's heed to be kind towards the guards. Florian's idea of punishment was forcing his guard to follow him on useless errands in the towns. Many of those errands resulted in severe hangovers and regrets of the previous night. Florian himself never had any regrets for those events; he enjoyed the boisterous scene as well as those who were willing enough to crawl into his den.

He looked upon the Guide with thinly veiled amusement as the man marveled over such paintings on the wall. Marcellus most likely did not know the paintings were parting gifts from previous Bearers, nor that the Sanctuary was built solely on magic. No amount of donations could have resulted in the glamour the place held; no, only the work of skilled magicians and mages could accomplish such a thing.

"I do not recall ever saying your hide more than once," he said, fiddling with the edges of his coat. "Would you like to expand on that?"

Lost
Quick Info
Full Name: Florian Ethers
Title: The White Hare
Nickname: Ian
Age: 23
Height: 5'8"

Character Sheet

 

[Lost]

░░ Marcellus Warren ░░​

Cychotic

​

Marcel felt his face grow flush. "Ja seya, need you make me repeat such unpleasant stories?" He shuddered at the thought. Try as he might, those memories were as vivid as the day they occurred.

Soon after he left the forest, Marcel had encountered a man who claimed that communal nudity was an important principle of human life. Needless to say, Marcellus believed him. Just as he was removing his coat, however, Florian had intervened, and stopped him. At the time Florian had been with a man Marcel had assumed to be his lover, but as he soon learned, Florian's lover was often subject to change. After that encounter, the two became fast friends.

The second time was three years later, when Marcel had met a fisherman on Veyn. The man had quickly seen Marcel's lack of experience, and mentioned in conversation that, in order to cement a friendship on Veyn, one had to pay a 300 gold fee. Marcellus happily obliged, and spent the day handing out money to all of the fisherman's friends. He would have lost all his savings, too, had Florian not stepped in and stopped him. Marcel had tried to give Florian gold as well, but his friend had refused, evidently amused.

Marcel shook the thoughts out of his head. If Florian didn't remember, then he hardly wanted to remind his friend. He would never live down the teasing his fellow Guide would dish out.

code by aukanai --- for Lost 's use only​

 

[Cychotic]

Florian​

Upon seeing the Guide's rosy cheeks, Florian gave out a hearty laugh, amusement twinkling in his red eyes. It was not often such entertainment readily came upon its doorstep, nor did it usually present itself as a young man with too much naivete for his own good. The Guide would know, as entertainment usually appeared before him with a sensual demand he was all too eager to fulfill.

"They were not so unpleasant," Florian stated, licking his lips. "I recall them being extremely fun, especially the nudist who was attempting to take advantage of such a young person." He remembered vividly his reaction; Florian was initially appalled at the boy's innocent nature, then amusement took hold with a strong grip. He made a mental reminder to take Marcellus to the more scandalous areas in the deeper parts of Faun. It would give him such a good time watching the boy slowly lose his innocence.

Florian stopped as they paused in front of the Meeting's archway. He flicked his head, turning to face Marcellus. "And, you have no need to thank me. The fact that you apparently owe me three favors is enough thanks," he purred, stepping through the arch and into the room. Favors were interesting things, and if one had a single clue of his reputation, they would avoid being in his debt. He was known for doing wild things with his favors, and Florian was unsure if Marcellus would like his approaches. Nonetheless, favors were favors; Florian would reap everything he had sowed in due time, including the innocent Guide. One glance across the room told Florian that no other Bearers had arrived. Of course, that did not bother Florian as it gave him enough time to laze around.

"Men, this is Marcellus, the second guide." Florian gestured to the boy. "Please do not riddle him with any lies." He flushed out is coat, seating himself where he was originally. The Guide extended his palm, patting the chair next to him as a small demand for Marcellus to take a seat.

Lost
Quick Info
Full Name: Florian Ethers
Title: The White Hare
Nickname: Ian
Age: 23
Height: 5'8"

Character Sheet

 

[Lost]

░░ Marcellus Warren ░░​

Cychotic Rari Alexander Time

​

Marcel quieted as he followed Florian. He couldn't help but dread the day his friend decided to use said 'favors'.

He pushed the thought out of his mind; he'd worry about it when it actually occurred.

He entered the room near the same time as Florian, and sighed as he heard his fellow Guide's introduction. If ever there came a moment for the Bearers to doubt his capability as their Guide, it would no doubt be due to Florian. He mustered up a smile. "It is fantastic to meet you, haerî."

After his quick greeting, he found his seat by Florian. As he waited for the meeting to start, he couldn't help but notice the elder in the room; he assumed this was the Oracle. The soothsayer was old, but he had an air of authority about him. Above his white, wispy beard sat two blue eyes. Two eyes that looked very, very tired.

Marcel felt his stomach knot with anxiety. A man such as the Oracle didn't scare easy.

Something was terribly wrong. And he wagered they were about to find out what.

code by aukanai --- for Lost 's use only​

 

[Alexander Time]

Romulus Estar Banin
Romulus found himself loosening up considerably, he hadn't expected a warm welcome. His dark eyes followed the movement of one of the strangers as, at the behest of the Oracle, he exited the room, the edge of his mouth was upturned in amusement at the man's theatrics. Turning back to look at the Oracle, he gestured to the door. "One of yours?". He didn't find the Sanctuary as a place to inspire such a personality, which made him all the more curious.

After a moment the silence was interrupted by the man sitting across the table, who introduced himself as Sodales. Romulus couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his mouth at Sodales' formality. "I'm flattered," He said, quickly looking over Sodales. He obviously valued professionalism, which told Romulus in turn that he likely also had a healthy, if not obsessive, respect for rules and law. Though he wasn't sure if he should expect any less, given the fact he hailed from Veyn. Despite his personal love for the world, Romulus found it hard to like their rigid people. "I've been away for the last two years, studying out in the wilderness. I'm sure our meeting would've been entertaining otherwise." He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the orbs of light slowly revolving around the room. All-too-familiar. He smiled.

A few minutes later, Romulus was about to break the silence again when the man with the snow-white hair returned, accompanied by a dark-haired stranger who he promptly identified as Marcellus. Romulus gave a nod of respect and a small smile in the mans direction. He looked very obviously out of place, and Romulus could only guess that he actually was. Judging by the introduction of Marcellus as the 'second guide', Romulus assumed the red-eyed man sitting across from him must be the first. Whatever the Oracle had in store for them, Romulus was sure it would be entertaining at least. "I've been introduced to Marcellus and Sodales, but I don't think I got your name." He said, looking across at the only stranger now in the room.

 

[Cychotic]

Florian​

Florian regarded Romulus with a faint hint of a smile. He was indeed correct; the Bearer had no memory of him. All the better, of course. Florian would have a new slate to impose on, a new area to lay down his preposterous being.

"Florian Ethers," he replied smoothly. "One of the Oracle's favourite Guardians, and now your Guide." His narcissism was thick, dripping in his words. He propped up his arm, allowing his head to fall softly upon his palm. Though in a room oozing of seriousness, Florian's posture was casual, a lazy thing he allowed because of spite. He took note that Estar seemed to be much more relaxed than upon arriving, which was surprising. Although the Guide knew little of his departure, he had not expected the Bearer to seem so comfortable, so at home.

It seems a person's roots never outrun you.

The Guide let out a low hum of delight, his ebony white hair falling over one of his eyes. "Do remind me to take you out in the Barrel after all this is over," he said, allowing a slow smile spread onto his lips. The Barrel was known for its merriment, a lives there taken by the glee of freedom and the joy of skirting the lines between innocence and maturity. It was not an uncommon name, and Florian had no doubt it would draw a glimpse of recognition from Estar. Unless the man had lived quaintly under a rock, he would understand that only one of the Oracle's Guardians was known for his outings as well as his personality.

Lost
Quick Info
Full Name: Florian Ethers
Title: The White Hare
Nickname: Ian
Age: 23
Height: 5'8"

Character Sheet

 

[Alexander Time]

Romulus Estar Banin
A glint of excitement appeared in Romulus' eye as he heard the name, 'Florian Ethers', though he was careful not to let anything but an amused grin show on his face. He'd heard stories of the man's exploits but never met him. If half the tales were true, Romulus knew he ought to be careful in what he said and did. A game of sorts. The thought caused his heart to beat a little faster.

At the mention of The Barrel, memories made their way to the forefront of Romulus' mind. Late nights, magic that made the air feel almost heavy and desperate, strong drink, and an infectious liveliness that filled the rooms. He'd always been careful not to allow anyone there to take advantage of him, the lines of innocence and experience were often blurred. Returning to reality, Romulus gave a knowing smile to Florian. "The Barrel? I don't think I've had the pleasure."

Leaning back, Romulus held his hand out over his head and a pipe fell into it, as if it materialized from nowhere. Glancing at the Oracle, he casually placed the pipe in his mouth. "I do hope you don't mind, I was expecting to be the last here, pleasantly surprised to find it isn't so." Searching through his pocket of magic, Romulus was frustrated to find he'd forgotten his fire stone. "Why not." he muttered more to himself than the other occupants of the room.

 

[Cychotic]

Florian​

Florian easily distinguished the man's words for a lie; with a look like that, there was no way Romulus had not indulged in the Barrel himself. The Guide returned Estar's smile, his eyes roaming over the Bearer's face with slow amusement. "A shame," he replied, his eyes half-lidded. "You must allow me to indulge you in such a place."

To his pleasant surprise, a pipe appeared, falling promptly into Romulus' palm. The Oracle nodded slightly towards the Bearer, knowing that keeping Romulus pleased until the revealing of the journey would be the best course of action. Florian quirked a brow at Estar's cleverly concealed frustration. Without a fire to light his pipe, there would be no use for it.

And so Florian tapped into the elements around him, blowing softly in the direction of the man's pipe. A slow, red burn appeared, lighting the smoke in a flash. A small gift for another person who was bound to entertain Florian until he had his fill. With his lips still curled in a smile, he leaned forward, whispering a soft phrase, "You're welcome". The Guide then leaned back, flicking his wrists as he rearranged his coat. It seemed that the Bearer relied on stones, tethers to nature itself to wield the elements. Florian, unlike the Bearer, had a stronger attachment to the elements, using only his mind and ability to tap into power to summon them. It was interesting, yes, but the Guide knew better than to analyze without knowing the full extent of the Bearer's power. One weakness made up for a surprising strength; it was a rule Florian knew all too well.

Lost
Quick Info
Full Name: Florian Ethers
Title: The White Hare
Nickname: Ian
Age: 23
Height: 5'8"

Character Sheet

 

[Lost]

░░ Marcellus Warren ░░​

OPEN FOR INTERACTION

​

Marcel shifted uncomfortably. After his observation a few moments ago, he had been anxiously awaiting the start of the meeting. If this was urgent, he didn't understand why they couldn't start the meeting without the other two Bearers. He let out a frustrated huff, and pulled out his old sketchbook. It would do no good to brood; he might as well browse through his old sketches.

He opened the book at a random page, and couldn't help but chuckle. The creature was beautifully drawn, with four long sinewy legs and a tusk protruding from the quadruped's pig-like head. In truth, the real creature was infinitely more hideous than the one in the picture; Marcel's drawing actually flattered the poor thing.

"Teskai," he muttered to himself. He remembered his encounter with this beast fondly. It had been a long time since he'd seen it; or the forest, for that matter. A long time since he'd been home.

He couldn't help but smile grimly at the irony. He had pulled out the book with the intent to escape his worried thoughts, yet inside it he found memories a thousand times more dreary.

code by [COLOR=#CBCBCB]aukanai[/COLOR] --- for Lost 's use only​

 

[Rari]

Sodales Besonna Runal

Mentioned:


As he looked over the odd assortment of fellows gathered, Sodales could feel his interest in everything slowly drain away. Anticipation can only be left to marinade so long before it grew stale. Two Bearers had yet to arrive, and the sensitive nature of today's meeting made it impossible to proceed with things unless all were in attendance. Stagnation never could keep anyone's interest very long.

Patience, unfortunately, was a virtue that Sodales had grown away from over the last five years. Living a life of proceeding forward without delay, diving head-first into research and work alike, had that affect sometimes. But, all things would proceed forward in due course. Until then, all he could do is wait.

With a long pause in place of a sigh, he leaned himself back in his chair to relax until he needed to be serious again; relaxing is better for one's health in the long run anyways. His eyes flitted themselves between those gathered thus far, pausing for a moment to examine each one in turn. A more diverse bunch could not have been gathered here today, but so is the charm of uncertainty.

Lightly rubbing his left ring absentmindedly Sodales opted to sit quietly, lost somewhere in thought of projects left unattended back in Veyn. If a journey was to be undertaken arrangements would have to be made, and a travel bag packed. After the meeting he would have to attend to such things.

 

[Bellz]

Alistar Duvè Cychotic Rari Alexander Time Lost

She was late, and she knew it. Was she going to let that get to her? No. Sighing, she paused at the entrance and looked up at her surroundings for a long moment. A beat of silence went by, and she got enough of the lights heat before turning and walking inside. She briskly walked through the place that she was once so familiar with. Her hands lightly traced the walls of the building, taking her time as she let nostalgia take over her senses. Everything was so familiar. And she wasn't sure if she enjoyed it.

This meeting was going to be big. It would be the first time that they would all be meeting with the same room. The four of them. It was definitely going to be interesting. She had just been with the Queen before being summoned here. It was rather lovely catching up with the kind woman. Nothing but compliments showered from her lips about Ali's hair or eyes or delicate features. So much so that it made Ali almost go insane. As much as she did enjoy the fun loving place she called home.

She sometimes wondered if they needed a reality check.

Finally, having found the room they were all meeting in. Her eyes came across the room to observe who was here. A smirk was placed on her lips as she was greeted by nothing but men. "Well, this is rather interesting." She said as she glided gracefully through the doors. Her clothing was fitted tightly around her small frame as she came to a stop at the other end of the table.

"I do apologize for being late, the Queen continued to talk to me long after I was summoned." She sighed, it was a delicate soft sound. One that could put a baby to sleep, just by hearing it. Her large red eyes took in the crew before her. "Did I miss anything?"

[/h]

 

[Alexander Time]

Romulus Estar Banin
Romulus raised his eyebrows and quickly shifted his eyes to the other occupants of the room when his pipe suddenly lit up. It was quickly apparent who was responsible and Romulus gave a small smile in return. Leaning back in his chair and placing the pipe in his mouth, light silver smoke drifted into the air, tinged with green like glitter. Romulus observed the other occupants of the room, content to bide his time. Marcellus appeared to be absorbed in a book of some kind, and Solades had, seemingly, relaxed. He was unsure to what extent a Veynian actually could relax.

It wasn't a moment later that someone new entered the room. Romulus turned to see who the late-comer was, and his eyes were met with a young woman with jet-black hair, much like his own. Judging by her clothes, she wasn't much for tradition, though Romulus had heard of the rather unconventional circumstances surrounding her training. Unlike he and the other bearers, she hadn't been found and declared a bearer at the same time as them, thus leaving less time for ingraining of cultural custom.

Romulus gave her a nod of respect "Nothing has really happened as of yet." Blowing a puff of smoke out of his mouth, he gestured to the two vacant chairs. "Please, have a seat. I suppose we shouldn't be surprised our Newt friend will be the last to arrive. You'd think with a world so full of gears keeping up with time wouldn't be so hard." What a coincidence that the world torn by war and the world a constant party would be the late-comers.

 

[Cychotic]

Florian​

Florian's eyes gazed upon the Bearer of Aster, faintly recalling that the woman's name was Alistar. It reminded him of stars, much like the world of Aster itself. When she spoke, the Guide narrowed his eyes. Alistar was too soft; it grated upon his ears to hear such a seemingly gentle nature. He took a breath before speaking. "Ah, yes, the Queen. Well, like Romulus has said, you haven't missed much. My name is Florian."

The man set his hand down, drawing circles into the table. It seemed that Florian would have to travel with her along with the others, and idea that did not settle well with him. The woman tugged at his senses, making him alert and wary. The Guide would much rather be relaxed, and so he continued to be languid. He gave the woman a long gaze, raking over her appearance and quirking a not-so subtle brow. You stand out; you have caught my attention. Whether it is good or bad depends solely on you.

Lost
Quick Info
Full Name: Florian Ethers
Title: The White Hare
Nickname: Ian
Age: 23
Height: 5'8"

Character Sheet

 

[Bacon is fluffy]

Elizabeth Hawthorne​

An hour before the meeting
Elizabeth slowly rose while all else lie still, a sorrowful gale swept through the battlefield making her dress flutter as she took her leave. As she blissfully made her way toward the interdimensional gap in newt, her people trained their guns on her. The lone girl covered in the splotches of crimson and soot, paid them no heed. Their guns trembled, teeth grit as they held back their fury and resentment. The lone officer left after the massacre stood before her, but his weapon was steady. He glared at the girl who was slowly losing her grip on reality it would seem. She held no expression worthy of her current circumstances. There was no rage in her eyes, nor wrinkles in her forehead. She was calm and serene, barely aware of her surroundings. She opened her soft eyes and tilted her head. She placed her hands behind her back and gave him a curious expression. " Is something the matter"? He cocked his weapon and placed its muzzle right between her eyes, " You know what's the matter, WITCH". Her lips curled into a slight grin as she pushed his weapon aside and tapped his cheek a couple of times." Playtime's over Oli. Send the chancellor my regards". she said, continuing on toward the marshes, leading into the mountains.

On her way to the chamber where she'd meet the alleged oracle, people of all walks of life stared at her with intrigue. Most averted their eyes while others reached for their weapons, only holding back at the tell tale signs of who she really was. Her freshly roused body as still pulsating with the remnants of magic, streaks of faint black streaks covered her from head to toe. All the while she approached her destination looking down at her note pad as she consistently sketched diagram as diagram. Her body moved with purpose,but almost as mechanically as the very machines she seemed to despise so much.

As she approached the chamber, her senses started to perk up. Standing before her was a disingenuous tone. She dropped her notebook which disappeared into the floor, ripples akin to watch started to form for but a moment, before returning back to normal. She placed her hand on the woman's shoulder and made her way toward her seat. She swept the room, giving everyone a smile before turning her attention to the skeleton of a man seated at the head of the table. Elizabeth wasn't sure what the proper etiquette was in this situation, so she took the most minimal of action and awaited further instruction from the one who called upon her.

Bellz

 

[Bellz]

Alistar Duvè Cychotic