Fantasy Andros - [ Always Accepting ]

[. D O V E]

[class name=name]font-size:50px;[/class]

[div class=name]HARIN[/div]​

Silence passed the duo as the so-called master stared at the Astrian. “You’re right, however...” She reached for her mask and carefully removed it from her face, revealing golden locks and bright emeralds glowing amidst the darkness of the forest. Her soft features then contorted together, cheeks inflating into a big pout. “I told you not to call me master! My name is Harin!” She complained, her arms flailing around almost childishly. “Geez, you make it sound like we’re not best friends!”

Correct. The masked figure, now unmasked, was none other than the Golden Lioness herself. Harin, as far as she could remember, was a travelling hero in search of someone. Ever since she woke up without any recollection of who she was or where she came from, there have only been two people who stayed constant in her mind.

The first was Yxial Oshiar: an Astrian whom she was apparently the master of and can grant her powers so long as she gives him something in return- both notions she highly disliked because she felt like they degraded their friendship. But of course, she can’t do anything about it because Yxial is a powerful being. He has been showing and giving her power beyond imaginable ever since she stumbled upon his mask in a cave somewhere. Powers that she had and will continue to use for the sake of helping others. But do not be fooled, Yxial may be god-like and all but he was still her friend; a fact that would remain even if he was just a regular guy without the capability to summon jungles or golden dragons.

The second was the man in her dreams. Literally. Quite frankly, Harin has no idea about who he really was. But what she did know was that her call was to find and be with him. No matter how many times she had lost her memories, her visions and dreams of him continued lingering. He was her destiny.

“I can’t wait to finally meet him!” She squealed before she continued studying his tracks. “Oh look! It leads back to the cliff! Let’s go and meet up with our friends!” The summoner exclaimed before running towards the broken sword and pulling it from the ground once again. It may be broken, but it was still technically an artifact, and she knew a certain friend of hers can find a use for it. If not, well, there's still no shame in giving.

AI10100

 

[AI10100]

O S H I A R , Y X I A L​

As she removed her mask to fully express herself, Yxial merely rolled his eyes at her playful nature. She had always insisted on such things which he didn’t quite understand. Do not mistake him, he understood the concept of friendship - after all, he did have quite a few forged from ages long past - but to a mortal such as her? He didn’t feel quite the same as her.

He reached out and pinched her nose to try and get rid of that pout. “No, you’re my master. And you will be my master until you find no more use for me.” In the end, that was how the whole system worked. These mortals only took them out of their artifacts because they craved for more power. They wanted to use Astrians to further their plans. Yxial couldn't exactly blame them for this way of thinking. Power is a very wonderful thing to have.

He says all of that and yet, looking at his current master, she had her own goals but she didn’t care much for the power. She hadn’t gone out of her way to find his mask years ago. And by all means, their contract seemed more like an accident than something intentional on her part. Harin rarely used these powers for herself, opting to use everything in her disposal to help others even at the risk of her deteriorating herself. He was the reason why she had lost so many memories - though he’d never really take the fault for it, it was her decision to do so, after all. She was annoyingly self-sacrificing and yet because of those visions of hers, she never loses sight of her goals.

It was fascinating as it was irritating.

“Right.” Yxial muttered once she shifted back her attention to her long lost mystery man. Wings unfurled on his back. “Well then, come on, master.” He reached out and grabbed her by the back of her armor and once he had a sure grip on his master, he shot up into the sky and towards the cliff. Without having to search for clues, there was no need to take their time. Within a few seconds, they were already on the cliff. He dropped Harin around three feet from the ground before landing himself. "We found tracks down there that led right back up. Looks like they continued-" He gestured to the road. "Pretty fresh so we might have a chance to catch up."

. D O V E Colorless Spectrum

 

[Kloudy]

Marx Aurelius
(East-Elysia - Galeford Streets)

"Fresh fish! Straight off the coast! Two coppa' ah fillet! Fresh fish! Get yer fish 'ere!"

Marx moved narrowly through swathes atop his horse through the crowded streets of the venerable Galeford. The city had made its distinction in the East by way of power in commerce, the river that slashed through its heart providing the most enticing bounty a settlement could dream. The trade that flowed through the clear waters of Galeford gave way to the bustling community of merchants and craftsmen looking to navigate a path in life, often by way of hearty wealth acquisition. The wood-thatched stone houses that watched over the streets were just as likely homing residents as they were shops and market stalls looking to palm off their myriad of commerical wares. It was easy to get lost in the beating artery that struck through Elysia, providing her royal treasury a pulse.

At his waist hung Arnora's dagger. Marx could not afford to allow her to be seen by the public just yet. Her appearance would cause too much of a disturbance. Even so, he maintained a telepathic connection with her. She could see through his eyes and communicate with him freely. The ex-prince appreciated that she may have complaints about the situation, but it would not be for long as he had assured her. Gripping the reigns of his steed loosely, Marx swung their direction towards the opening of a dusty alley. There was a few empty crates and a beggar, but nothing more. Riding onwards, Marx glanced behind their path before fluidly dismounting his horse. The alley stopped at a dead end ahead, all but a wrong turn for most. Marx approached the large wooden doors that blocked them and rapped his knuckles on them in a specific pattern. A brief pause followed, then the doorway opened to reveal...

"AH! Well if it isn't Aurelius himself! Certainly took ya time!"

A large lobby greeted prince and, by extension, Astrian as a man loudly hailed them from afar. It looked like some kind of tavern but with a front desk area next to some kind of bulletin board. Many rougher and older folk seemed to frequent this space, scarred warriors and confident adventures nursing ales and eyeing up the newcomers. New meat meant new competition, but those present knew who Marx was already. And if they hadn't, the Guildmaster certainly ammended that issue.

"Guildmaster Tyieson, it hasn't been long enough!" Marx regarded Tyieson with relaxed enthusiam, laughing with the older more grizzled man as he led his horse through for a stable hand to take.

"So! I'll be assuming ya found what you was lookin' fer?" The larger man took his time trudging down the wooden steps from his office, his large beast-skin cloak and battleworn face drawing glances.

Marx smiled graciously in response.

"Yes. It went perfectly. Actually.."

Marx leaned in closer as the Guildmaster approached him, revealing beneath his cloak one of the broken relic weapons he had secured from Arnora's graveyard. It held a mystical pattern imprinted on the metal unlike any either man had seen before.

"Perhaps we could discuss my findings somewhere privy of less-esteemed eyes?"

~~~​

"By the Gods, this is... unevaluable! "

Marx nodded, looking over the array of items he had found on his last expedition. They would all fetch a high price, not just with other merchants but directly in the sale to adventurers. There was always a mercenary looking for some crazy exotic weapon that could give them a magical edge over their enemies and Astrian artefacts were priceless in that market. With the help of Tyieson, Marx had been able to effectively distribute his findings throughout the guild in Galeford for a high price. Of course, Tyieson was more than happy to pay for some of the relics himself, but the main boon came in his now over-equipped guild capable of taking on increasingly more difficult quests. The reason for Galeford's wealth was not simply just accredited to the steady flow of trade that came down the river. It was the guild's high class of adventurers that allowed for trade routes to be safely guarded and monstrous threats to be efficiently dealt with. And with the bigger contracts getting completed sooner, it meant larger sums of wealth got exchanged faster.

"Indeed. But this is not what has me excited, Tyieson. I would like to introduce a new friend of mine - Arnora of the First Dawn Battalion."

Darkling0096

 

[Roman]

Spring arrives in generous brushstrokes of verdant, uneven in its application and at first dotted by the reluctance that is the winter's last stand; sculpted flakes of frost clinging to the wiry tangles of last seasons growth. As the months progress the air grows tepid, the diffused sunlight banishing the chill to memory as buds of blossoms sprout upon thawed branches in its stead. In the towns the streets bustle with life anew, stalls opening up left and right in a diverse assembly of powdered spices, rusty red and jaundice on one end and freshly baked goods on the other. Toes being trodden on, ears ringing with the hollering of special deals and shoulders bumping; the heart of the people slowly heats, the change palpable in the more frequent exchanges of greetings and the outbreak of aimless smiles.

Clinging to the side of one of these streets was a woman, ragged in attire and tawny skin glazed with the trickles of perspiration. Each step was a labouring process of dragging feet upfront while resisting the urge to incline forward as the weight in the weathered hands warranted, fingers tracing the outlines of a full belly. She paused to puff for a moment, reaching out to lean on the wall when a sudden pain ripped through her body and registered in the buckling of knees. The bypassing crowd stirred, curious eyes glancing sideways but none stopping to help. The woman saw this and laughed a burst of laughter that betrayed nothing but hatred. Hatred for those good-willed liars who had done nothing but pointed fingers and demeaned her while spouting words of faked sympathy and hatred for herself for having fallen for those words despite knowing better.

No matter what she did she was always alone in the end.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT HUH? IS THE TOWN WHORE THAT ENTERTAINING? WELL GUESS WHAT, SO DID YOUR HUSBANDS THINK HAHAHA".

No, she had been alone since the beginning.

The crowd rustled and retreated a step back, a peal of whispers of 'she's crazy', 'poor girl' and 'she deserves this' soon filling the air between the crouched figure and her onlookers. Grasping a handful of gravel she lashed out and threw it at the closest ones, causing them to reel back and throw a few dissenting scowls of their own before eventually moving on upon which she shrank down again. Shoulders slumping tiredly once not being watched.

The woman laid a hand on her stomach, her words nothing more but a weak croak between the strings of half-choked sobs.

"This is all your fault..."

There is a rustle of metal and gravel crunching under boots, then there's a shadow which sweeps by in the blurry corners of tear-filled eyes before it decidedly halts to hover above her. On the ground, in front, she peeked a pair of glistening pointed sollerets which could only belong to that of a knight or mercenary and she froze; gulping down nervously when the figure then lowered to a knee.

"Ma'am, your water broke." A voice as delicate as silver bells yet soft like the murmurous flutter of wings calmly soothed from above; a gloved hand reaching out next to gently brush the tangled locks of burnt amber hair away from reddened eyes which didn't dare rise to look.

Proffering a leathered thumb the stranger wiped her flushed cheeks dry and nimbly buttoned the front of her dress up which had her cleavage shamelessly at display. Swift and precise, no breath wasted. Having never experienced such aimless kindness before the woman was stunned to silence, only managing to blink sheepishly as the knight helped her up from the ground and dusted off the sand from her knees. Knight? Although the figure looked the part, decked out in shining armour complete with a sword hanging from its waist, something was off.

As this train of thought crossed her mind they suddenly made contact, her own hazel eyes meeting the jaded gaze of bluejays peeking through lush crowns of lashes.

A woman?!

The stranger smiled as if having read her mind and lifted her hand in her gloved one, giving it a light reassuring squeeze as she did so.

"Does ma'am know if there is a doctor's office nearby?".

The question made her snap back to reality and immediately withdraw from the stranger, looking strangely defensive all of sudden as she clutched her hand tightly against her chest and glowered suspiciously.

"I don't have the money for that kind of luxury." She snarled, hoping to scare the other away.

Surely no one would keep insisting on helping someone that clearly didn't harbour any gratitude towards them? Was her thought process at that moment but would soon be proven wrong as the knight lookalike merely glanced down at her abundant belly.

"I see." The other one simply affirmed and then turned away as if readying herself to leave to which she couldn't help but bitterly purse her lips.

However, her expectations were once again subverted as the knight only moved to stop a passerby to ask about directions before returning to her side.

"I'll escort ma'am to the doctor." She then stated and started to string her along with a startling determination which starkly contrasted against her soft features.

The next events came and went in a confusing flurry as they navigated their way to the doctor and the knight had her be received promptly. Seemingly paying for the fee with her own money and having no qualms about going to such lengths for a complete stranger, making one wonder who could be so generous and for what reason? Nonetheless, the pain was too overwhelming for her to be pondering over such mysteries and with relief nowhere in sight she decided to settle for the one answer that she had gotten: whether or not this saviour of hers was a knight or not.

No, I'm a priestess.

A priestess? Why would a priestess need armour, she had thought and sneered yet had still refrained from asking further as the contractions would come to dominate her whole being. The respites between the pushing and heaving were brief, the agony hot flashes of white as eyes rolled back and veins popped under skin lustrous with sweat. Unwilling to re-engage with the world under closed lids, senses dulled to the point of the bed feeling alien, she could only barely make sense of what was going on around her. The hands touching her body, the nurses sprinting back and forth for new freshwater, the cold rag which was so carefully placed upon her forehead in a momentary blessing of bringing clarity to her mind. When one of those fleeting moments came she seized it and opened her eyes to wearily gander at the faces above; one, in particular, being the fair profile of the one that was changing the rag.

Once the doctor deemed her suffering to have been enough he demanded her to push and so she did, and in a guttural grunt delivered the baby into the hands of the nurse awaiting below without further effort. Probably startled by the sensation of cold air suddenly brushing up against its skin the baby broke out into a cry, nose crinkling up in displeasure and tiny hands curling into fists. Wrapping it in a blanket the nurse moved to hand the new life over to its mother but before she had the chance the aforementioned whipped her face away.

"I don't want to see it." She growled between gritted teeth, breath yet to descend from its hitching crescendos.

Everyone in the room was aptly taken aback, despairing gazes being exchanged behind the mother's back as if asking each other what they should do now. Then from the side emerged a pair of gloved hands which ushered the baby into a pair of new arms, its cheek soon brushing up against the chilled breastplate of the priestess' armour.

"Then should I kill this child?".

Her face betrayed no emotions as she asked the unthinkable as opposed to her careful handling of the little one. The mother only stirred ever so slightly from where she laid, gaze still stubbornly pinned on the window sill as she spat back in response.

"I don't care."

The room was plunged into chaos, the doctor and nurses alike moving to snatch the child away from the priestess who promptly and confidently shut them down by unsheathing her sword and baring the blade against them. None dared take another step after that, instead even reeling back once the blade was pushed up against the soft throat of the child.

The priestess drew a deep breath and exhaled in a sigh.

"I see."

Upon the split second that it looked like she was about to slash there was a sudden movement from the bed and the silhouette of a person sprinting to their feet. However, weakened from the ordeal that they had just been put through said person managed to trip over their own feet and was sent stumbling forward; only barely reaching to latch onto the arm of the priestess before falling flat on the floor.

She trembled as she screamed, "ARE YOU INSANE? AREN'T YOU A PRIESTESS? THEN HOW CAN YOU DO SUCH A THING?!".

Bluejay eyes narrowed as they came to gaze down at the dishevelled mother, something imperceptible tugging at the corner of her mouth as she then moved to push the other off.

"Weren't ma'am the one who said she didn't want this child? I'm merely doing it a favour by ending its suffering here and now."

Her voice was raucous yet composed, flat yet undeniably frigid. Imparting a slither of winter in the peak of spring that was palpable in the frosted shivers darting down one's spine. Seeing as how the priestess wouldn't be shaken by guilting her the mother latched onto her feet instead, desperately grasping for anything and everything that would save her from this situation.

Eventually, she was forced to relent anyway and scrambled to her knees; bowing deeply down before the doctor and his crew after exchanging gazes.

"Please, allow us to have a moment for ourselves."

Once alone the priestess dropped her sword and instead helped the woman back into bed before pulling up a chair beside to take a seat. The child had, surprisingly enough, fallen asleep in the midst of the chaos and was now breathing softly in the arms of its almost killer; blissfully unaware of what had just transpired before its nascent eyes.

The priestess spoke up first, nailing the now upright snivelling mess that was the mother against the bed frame with her gaze.

"It's the doctor right?" She stared until the woman had processed her words and nodded reluctantly upon which she then closed her eyes thoughtfully.

Fiddling with the edge of the blanket the woman had once again fallen back into the habit of not looking straight, chewing nervously at her bottom lip as she debated whether or not she should ask the question that was on both minds. The priestess seized the opportunity first again, looking rather unfazed as she answered the question which had yet to cross any lips.

"You didn't look at him. That's how I knew."

Silence filled the room, a flash of doubt appearing in the lowering of brows.

"That's all?" The mother wavered.

"That's all." The priestess remained steadfast.

As if knowing that this wouldn't be enough to dispel the other's curiosity the priestess fastened her gaze anew on the woman, lips curling into a faint smile as she did so.

"Why else would such a brazen woman who throws gravel at the public suddenly become so demure and tight-lipped?" A light chuckle slipped out as she recounted the events and the woman blared up, cheeks glaring crimson as she turned her face away with a pout.

Having stifled the remaining laughter the priestess suddenly turned serious, expression drawing into a frown.

"Even if that's the case...and even if it hurts you must never subject your child to harm's way." She looked down at the innocent face below, laughing eyes teeming with an unspeakable familiarity as she spoke "This little one only got you to depend on so you must take care of it."

The woman swallowed and clenched her fists.

"I promise."

"Swear on your life."

Their eyes met, none steering away this time.

"I swear on my life."

The priestess looked down once again.

"Then allow me to be the first to congratulate ma'am. Congratulations ma'am, it's a girl."

She leaned forward and allowed for the petite body to slip from her grip and into the bosom of its mother, cheek now resting against the ample and soft breast which it should've been acquainted with first. The child roused, seemingly having noticed the sudden change of carriers, and was now weakly grasping for the face above; mouth rooting for milk as crescent eyes slid open to reveal dark half-moons. Taken aback the mother forced her teeth down into the flesh of her trembling lower lip, silent tears rolling in beads down cheeks sore from crying.

Wiping the wetness away with the sleeve of her dress, she drew a laboured breath of mucus and air through her nose and raised her gaze just in time to catch armoured figure on its way to leave.

She hurried, "Priestess won't you say a prayer for this little one?".

The priestess halted in her step but didn't turn around immediately, seemingly hesitating. But what was there to hesitate over? She was merely being asked to perform her duty. She scoffed and pivoted around, hands clasping in front as callous eyes peered blankly down at the pair in the bed.

"Then this priestess will dedicate a prayer to the little one, even if it is but mere words:

Eternal Father, eternal light in the darkness, I ask of you with a troubled heart. Illuminate this child so they may make the right choice. I beg this of you with open arms, o god of gods. Glorify them with your illustrious warmth."


Upon a faraway field of verdant greens, aquatic blue, and cotton white stands a lone shadow; basking away in the golden warmth and stealing the flowers precious seconds of efflorescence. A stillness has rooted itself in this place, breezes far and few in-between, leaves quietly wagging and the dew, yet to shed from the petals. Then there's red and chaos, blade brought to slide over the palm of a scarred hand, eliciting trickles of blood to paint the ground below crimson.

Sylas Kline

"Lord... Lord Sylas! Please! Stand and fight once again!"

The shouting of a woman's voice. It was shrouded in pain. Not that Sylas cared, but in this case it was different. The very companion that faithfully fought by his side. Having fought tooth and nail for Sylas... and she was being harmed in his very presence. He felt heavy. His body beaten, battered, and bruised from the assault from his peers. Never were they this ruthless. Attacking him in the last place he would ever seem to expect. His own castle. The fact that they were able to locate it was interesting enough in his opinion, but there wasn't time for that. He needed to get back on his feet and fight to the very end. While he knew he wasn't the greatest when it came to being considered "good" or respectable in the eyes of others, he still had something to protect. The work he valued so much. The one thing that he felt gave him a purpose in this forsaken world and Amriel. Even though she wasn't who she once was before having met Sylas, he had grown attached to her. She was his first friend after all.

Gripping the handle of his precious longsword, as tightly as he could, Sylas stood up. The strength in his legs failing. Throughout the war and the many victories he claimed over his fellow Astrians, he knew this wasn't truly the end of his life. Upon the defeat of an Astrain, their essence is preserved and stored away in something they held dear to themselves. That didn't mean it didn't hurt to be beaten by someone as strong as you. Unfortunately, his attackers weren't coming alone, but they were together. Not having met here by chance. Their abilities and skills were too well coordinated. As Sylas prepared to defend his home, Amriel, and his research, he began to think about all that he managed to achieve. All that he accomplished. All that he corrupted and conquered. Pointing his sword at Amriel before pointing it at his true enemies. "Rest Amriel. You've done enough." His words being spoken through the pain he was experiencing for the first time in years. Nothing had managed to bring him harm after he conquered the sun. His teeth being stuck together behind his closed mouth. Sylas wasn't going to show them that he was hurt through his emotions. They didn't need to see it on his face. It was already enough that they were able to do as much as they did to him on the outside. As Sylas spoke those words, Amriel was forced to her knees and fell into a deep sleep. Unable to awaken unless told do so, forcing her into a state of dormancy. It was his final command to her before his inevitable defeat. A black smoke surrounded her, keeping her safe from any attackers that may come and attempt to kill her once he was gone.

Now that Amriel was safe, Sylas' blade was now focused on his enemies. Taking his stance, the clashing of metal and magic being cast echoed through the halls of Castle Kline for hours. Days. Despite his body being as wounded as it was, Sylas kept on fighting until he couldn't fight anymore. He was drained. Defeated and left with nothing left to keep him from being sealed away. Falling to a knee as the battle finished and his foes lay defeated in front of him, ever so slowly vanishing and being sealed away themselves, Sylas began to stand once more. Making his way over to Amriel, who was still in the dormant state he had left her in. Stabbing the blade into the ground and taking a knee, he smiled as he began to fade. This world was flawed and so was he... but there was nothing he would change about it. Neither was there anything he'd change about himself. Having come to terms with the way he was created. His sun weakness. While it was no longer something that weakened him, it still gave him a purpose in the day he felt that he didn't have one. He didn't forgive himself for all the mortals that he had taken and corrupted. The dark elves were an accident, but they pushed his experiments to a new height as they were the first thing he forced his weakness on and got good results on. Through all of this, he learned that there was no point in trying to be someone he wasn't. Someone good. That time had already passed for him. Sylas was sealed away accepting who he was and what he did... Not a single regret in his mind... And willing to do it all again.

--- Present Day ---

With how much time had passed, Sylas would've gotten bored of keeping count... Though he never really did concern himself with the concept that was time anyways. For the first time in a long time, Sylas was able to feel again. His eyes shot open at the smell of blood and the feeling of it dripping onto him. His glowing-white eyes shooting open. A cloud of black smoke began to come from the blade, and swirl around the woman holding it. The sky began to darken and in the smoke glowed a pair of white eyes. This smoke had begun to swirl around in a circular motion, forming the body of a man. Hair as white as the clouds in the sky, flowing before gently falling down the male figure's back. The black smoke soon disappearing and revealing the man, standing in front of the woman. Without a word, he began to circle around her. Inspecting her. She looked nothing like Amriel... nor was she a vampire and most of all, he couldn't smell any malicious intent on her. This raised his curiosity. Who was she? How did she come into possession of his sword, Sanguine?

"Mortal... Human... What was your reasoning for freeing me from Sanguine? You don't seem to be derived from one of my creations either..."

Sylas' questioned in his naturally stern tone. Coming to a stop once he was standing in front of her, he held out his hand. Expecting her to return to the blade to its rightful owner.​

 

[Athanas]

He listened intently as the apparition explained. Determination. He once was nothing but determination. The Will to spite fate, to deny the role he had been given. For years upon years he was struggling, fighting, with nothing but determination to go upon. It was determination that got him in the Honor guard. It was determination that kept him from falling to a life of crime.

And in the end, all his determination was for naught. Absolutely naught. Her second point intrigued him, though. Humane and Astrian were two words that did not mix well, not at all, and for good reason. Of what value was a mortal to an immortal? Even if one wanted to bond with another, it would be most futile. In some years, the mortal would undoubtedly be dead. Repeat ad nauseam for millennia and well, who could blame them?

Her next statement shook him out of his thoughts. Yes, that made sense. It was like incantations for spells. He cursed under his breath for his rotten luck, but he decided that giving up now would be a disservice to the prince-he owed it to him to have an Astrian, so as to protect him more efficiently. His eyes widened slightly as the figure drew a sword, but it seemed to only loosen gusts of wind. The words appeared on the bark of the tree, a little bit more understandable this time around. Nodding in appreciation, he decided to give it another shot. Reading through the text numerous times, he progressively got better, piecing together how he was meant to pronounce the words. But still the alien language proved troublesome.

Finally, after almost half an hour of trying, he was sure he'd grasped it. He bit his lip, straightened his pose, and, in a truly unflattering and off-pitch voice, sang the verse
"Graid es towai di, Mii Heipe es crai ni eik tollm ticcarm es grei ni!"

Letting forth a sigh off relief, he looked at her for confirmation that he had succeeded. He sat down, leaning against the tree, trying to collect his thoughts from the ordeal.
"You better give me something astounding for this. Eldritch eyes, mayhaps? Super strength! Flight?" His tone was not serious, more akin to a light jest-he didn't really care for the specifics of the power she'd bestow on him. What would he use it on, anyway?
He tapped the wristguard. "Hmph. Never thought I'd be bound to one of you again... Oh well. Let's head back. I'll introduce you to the Prince tommorow."

CasualTea

 

[CasualTea]

He listened intently as the apparition explained. Determination. He once was nothing but determination. The Will to spite fate, to deny the role he had been given. For years upon years he was struggling, fighting, with nothing but determination to go upon. It was determination that got him in the Honor guard. It was determination that kept him from falling to a life of crime.

And in the end, all his determination was for naught. Absolutely naught. Her second point intrigued him, though. Humane and Astrian were two words that did not mix well, not at all, and for good reason. Of what value was a mortal to an immortal? Even if one wanted to bond with another, it would be most futile. In some years, the mortal would undoubtedly be dead. Repeat ad nauseam for millennia and well, who could blame them?

Her next statement shook him out of his thoughts. Yes, that made sense. It was like incantations for spells. He cursed under his breath for his rotten luck, but he decided that giving up now would be a disservice to the prince-he owed it to him to have an Astrian, so as to protect him more efficiently. His eyes widened slightly as the figure drew a sword, but it seemed to only loosen gusts of wind. The words appeared on the bark of the tree, a little bit more understandable this time around. Nodding in appreciation, he decided to give it another shot. Reading through the text numerous times, he progressively got better, piecing together how he was meant to pronounce the words. But still the alien language proved troublesome.

Finally, after almost half an hour of trying, he was sure he'd grasped it. He bit his lip, straightened his pose, and, in a truly unflattering and off-pitch voice, sang the verse
"Graid es towai di, Mii Heipe es crai ni eik tollm ticcarm es grei ni!"

Letting forth a sigh off relief, he looked at her for confirmation that he had succeeded. He sat down, leaning against the tree, trying to collect his thoughts from the ordeal.
"You better give me something astounding for this. Eldritch eyes, mayhaps? Super strength! Flight?" His tone was not serious, more akin to a light jest-he didn't really care for the specifics of the power she'd bestow on him. What would he use it on, anyway?
He tapped the wristguard. "Hmph. Never thought I'd be bound to one of you again... Oh well. Let's head back. I'll introduce you to the Prince tommorow."

CasualTea

Spoiler: Ventus

The apparition smiled before the winds began picking up again, swirling towards the apparition. The apparition began to glow brighter until eventually, a more mortal figure appeared in its place when the light faded. She looked like a female elf, her eyes closed and gently smiling as she descended. Her attire looked elegant, as if clothes a noble would wear. There also seemed to be a visible windy aura in the form of wings coming from behind her, as the skirt and her hair flowed with the wind. Her very appearance wrote elegance with brightness. When she finally touched the ground, she opened her eyes and nodded towards Belial. "Sounds like a good idea. I'll teach you my powers later, especially some gimmicks with your new wrist guard."

She said as she started to approach Belial, intending to head back with him in her mortal form. She seemed to also stretch out her arms up as she walked. As she had done this, she began to think about Belial's lacking ability to learn the chants quickly. She might have to write him a spell book with a detailed description of what the powers associated with the chant could do. While she walked, she also spoke regarding what he could do with her powers. "With my powers, you can control the winds around you in many ways. Be it for faster movements, defensive or offensive techniques, I'll walk you through it all one trick at a time. Be ready for your training~" She ended with a giggle.

 

[Diphylleia grayi]

The nausea rushed in waves, rising and faltering from the lurching pit of her stomach to baulk against an incessant row of gulping. The action of averting her gaze struck her as an instinct, memories of searing pain rooted in charred lungs and the smell of burnt flesh bringing paleness to an otherwise dull expression. It wasn't before she covered the wound with a handkerchief that she managed to wring her gaze straight again, beads of perspiration travelling over the peaks of a frown as forced breaths suppressed shadows anew.

Eulalia had never been good at dealing with blood, the small quantities of scrape wounds and flooding of deep gashes triggering contractions and clawing of her throat alike. While she could at least before, stomach the sight of it with the trouble of minor gag reflexes, she had with time, worsened to the state of almost folding over just at the thought of it. Even now it took her a considerable amount of strength to merely remain upright, shoulders having slumped forward for the briefest of moments at her weakest.

Weren't things like these supposed to get better with time, not worse? She couldn't help but snort, gloved hand rising to clutch her mouth as she craned her gaze skyward towards the assembling storm.

The silver hues were like molten silver, ripples of white steam peeking through the monochrome landscape to form rivers and congregate in the shape of a head. Then from the darkness emerged a body. Limbs arriving next to stack upon it in ashes as it hardened into the silhouette of a man. Though, perhaps it would've been more appropriate to call it the husk of a man. As it were neither man nor mortal for that matter, but a spirit which she had long sought.

An astrian.

The sword Sanguine, the blade which had felled hundreds during its peak wielded in the hands of the dark elves' creator; all supposedly of course, as all reliable sources had since then faded. Leaving only a few excerpts, one of them being a cautionary tale of a man who didn't reign in his horse at the cliff edge. To think that such a sword would have fallen into the hands of a commoner like that doctor and to think that the story was true at all. Truly a leap of faith which had paid off.

The man was confused, apprehensive, and righteously so as they looked like day and night from where they stood. One shrouded in the coat of night and the other, wrapped in moonlight veils. The woman, however, didn't look the least bit concerned and a light cough and pensive stroke of her chin later she approached.

"The legends have been spun well to put a goat in a tiger's skin, I must say that you're.." She started, taking a whirl of her own around his person before stopping in front; gaze panning from her bloodied hand to his face and then back again "- different from what I expected."

Well, of course, the stories would've been prone to alterations of the truth but still. Was this really the famed Vampire Lord? Wasn't virgins supposed to be some gourmet classified food for these creatures? Then how come he hadn't as much as flinched upon seeing her blood and not to mention, salivated over it? Her mental image and reality did, needlessly to say, not line up and so Eulalia was somewhat taken aback; turning her back on him in the next moment while forcing down the resurfacing nausea to recount the little facts she did know.

"Unremarkable sword surrounded in an evil aura check...summoning through shedding blood check...dark elf?" She gazed at the man over her shoulder, half-lidded bluejay eyes sweeping suspiciously from head to toe under a dragged out hum "-No matter how I look at it, it just looks like an old man??? A little ashen sure..but is...this it?".

Suddenly she perked, snapping her fingers in what seemed to have been a moment of eureka. This must be the right one because he had, after all, mentioned Sanguine. For this to be anyone else than him, would be a stretch of her otherwise luckless fate. So, in a pivot of heels, she faced the man again. A gentle smile coming to graze her delicate features as a gloved hand was extended.

"Yah...-I mean...ahem...Please forgive my rudeness sir, it's been a long day for this priestess. I've summoned you because I wish to borrow your aid in a matter that I alone can't mend with good intentions only."

Roman

 

[Darkling0096]

Arnora
East Elysia, Galeford Guildmaster's Office

Interaction: Kloudy ​

Much like Marx predicted, Arnora took immense issue with going back into the void of her dagger, especially after finally confirming that there was still a world beyond the pressing darkness. Even after Marx established the mental connection, all that came from Arnora's end was tension, and not the good kind that suggested readiness to act. The bad kind of tension, bordering upon fear and panic. In the short time that Marx and Arnora had known each other, it had become abundantly clear that the Astrian was, oddly enough, scared of remaining within the same item that had housed her essence for so long.

Although she could appreciate the sentiment of Marx loaning her his sight, the outside world held very little interest to her from within. The world was different, to be certain, but it wasn't special or interesting, or in any way offering release from the closing in 'walls' of her prison. Marx's promise that she would be released within a short time sent some small amount of happiness through the connection. Yet, for a being so supposedly old and powerful, Arnora was rather impatient. Not even a full minute had passed from Marx making that promise as they approached civilized lands and Arnora was returned to the blade, and already Arnora could not seem to wait much longer. But wait she had to, she could not free herself.

Through their connection, Arnora was almost like a child, eager to come out despite having little to nothing she would have able to do, and sulking when her request was not granted. Even as Marx rode through the crowd, and all the sights, sounds, and smells flooded Marx's senses and in turn were relayed to the dagger, she gave any attempt at communication only enough thought to determine if it were permission to come out, and refusing to communicate otherwise. The genasi bastard of Estermead was getting the silent treatment from a dagger. The absurdity of that fact would be amusing to some, who has ever been given the silent treatment by a weapon?

It was not until Marx spoke to the guildmaster and his desire to conceal something came through the connection that Arnora started paying attention once more. If Marx was attempting to be sneaky, then perhaps something would happen. Something to do that he would let her out to be a part of. Nope, just discussing things with an old mortal that appeared more wrinkle than skin. How was he still alive? He looked older than she was! As the old man led Marx into his office to discuss the relics that Marx had 'discovered' on her battlefield, Arnora couldn't help but be glad her company had been largely untouched. Most of their equipment had been stolen by birds and other adventurers over the years, and having been dormant for so long, Arnora couldn't have known or done anything about it. but the pieces Marx had recovered were largely of the enemies slain by her company, as her unit's weaponry was for the most part summoned, with exceptions to certain pieces of equipment that a combination of time and battle damage had largely destroyed. She could care less about the loot from other Astrians beyond that.

"Indeed. But this is not what has me excited, Tyieson. I would like to introduce a new friend of mine - Arnora of the First Dawn Battalion.", Marx had said after some deliberation, letting her out from the dagger. Unlike the initial summoning, there was no fanfare of raptors and feathers, no stop to the air, none of that. As Marx released Arnora from the dagger finally, the blade glowed in the sheath and she appeared next to Marx, having to lean forward somewhat to avoid hitting her head on the lights and rafters. In the brief moment they were still connected mentally through the dagger, a wave of relief pushed through at Marx introducing her. She could come out!

Her entrance was... less than graceful, however. Arnora was never known for being particularly elegant, much less so after being immobile for so long. If Marx was hoping for a respectful, calm and collected Astrian to come out of the dagger, Marx would be disappointed, becuase Arnora spent almost a full minute catching her breath even though she hadn't been doing anything the entire time and didn't really need air to begin with. And then she cuffed him on the shoulder. "Please don't do that again." It wasn't a request, even though she couldn't really enforce that without putting herself back in.

3EE0BE

 

[Roman]

"Am I alright? I guess I am. More angry than anything, but the arrow was a nice touch. Could've been worst if it hit me. Surprised you even cared to ask. Most people have just been walking by. I'm certain a lot of them saw what happened earlier but felt it wasn't their problem... So uh, thanks I guess."

"Oh that's not necessary I haven't really done anything. I'm sure someone would of come up and the same."

"But ultimately, it was out of my control. There were two of them and just little ol' me. I stood no chance, especially since one of those assholes were a lot bigger than me. I'm still aching from how hard I hit the ground when he pushed me out. I'm probably gonna start rambling, sorry in advance if I talk your ear off or something. I don't usually keep company unless I'm in an inn or tavern... Or selling what merch I'd have when I had it."

"Your fine besides I've been told I'm a pretty good listener haha." Mistie noticed him suddenly studying her. She titled her head to the side wondering what he was staring at. Did she have something on her face?

"Who are you anyway? Not trying to be rude or anything. I'm just a bit tired and honestly... Annoyed. If you couldn't tell from what I've said, it's been a long day for me so far."

She held back a laugh as he attempted to smile at her he looked annoyed and a bit worse for ware. "No your fine. I'm Mistie, Mistie Will and I actually work up here at the library." Speaking of which she needed to get back and deliver the money and book to her. Just then she heard someone call out to her and turned to see a little girl running towards her then hugging her. Mistie smiled hugging her back. "Hi Vanessa!" The little girl looked up and smiled at her not even noticing Conner. "Me and mother are heading to the library will be reading story today?" "Well depends on how many kids show up today." Mistie said as she smiled down at her. Vanessa then suddenly noticed Conner and stared at him for min and then suddenly said. "Whose dirty homeless guy?" Mistie laughed nervously. "Ahaha That's very rude Vanessa you don't say that to people." "Yeah but he looks-" Mistie cut her off. "Ok Vanessa go catch up with your mom huh? I'll see you later." The girl smiled, nodded and then turned to Conner. "By homeless guy" She then ran off catching up to her mother. "Uh.... sorry about that haha......" Though now Mistie couldn't help but wonder if he actually had a place to go. "Not to be rude but since she brought up it" She said referring to Vanessa. "Do you have any money or a place to stay?"
Roman

Connor Fleming

As Connor looked at the girl, he could tell that she was attempting to hold back a laugh after he smiled. This caused him to chuckle just a little bit before she told him her name. "Mistie? What a nice name. I'm Connor Fleming. I used to be a traveling merchant. My wagon with all of my wares was just taken so I kinda have no job at the moment." He then sighed and began to wonder about it again. How long could it possibly take him to get his wagon back? How long would it take him if he were too and attempt to take it back alone? So many different questions and so few of them resulted in a good outcome. By no means was Connor some grand hero type. He was just the average man. Soon his train of thought was thrown off track by the sound of a child. Apparently, Mistie knew the child. Vanessa, she called her. Connor simply minded his own business, not really paying the young child mind. He was in his worst possible state and didn't want to say or do anything that would make him come off as mean to someone or their kid. As the two conversed, Connor sat there quietly. cleaning the dirt from under his nails until the child said something about him. She called him homeless. That wasn't far from the truth. He was never really interested in buying a home for himself. He always had the wagon. That was his home. Mistie had quickly dismissed the child as a result of her insensitive behavior. Connor simply managed a sigh once more before looking at Mistie, who had asked if he had a place to stay and some money. Nodding his head yes, he spoke in a less than enthusiastic tone like when he said his name, "I have one of my smaller pouches of gold. It was the only thing I was able to recover from my wagon as it was stolen... And I'm not from Rudoras so I don't really have a place to stay here." He then took out the small pouch that contained what little money he had left. While it did have some weight to it, it definitely was a lot smaller in comparison to the others that he had on the wagon. "This is all I have to my name right now, aside from the clothes on my back and those aren't even clean." ​

 

[Roman]

The nausea rushed in waves, rising and faltering from the lurching pit of her stomach to baulk against an incessant row of gulping. The action of averting her gaze struck her as an instinct, memories of searing pain rooted in charred lungs and the smell of burnt flesh bringing paleness to an otherwise dull expression. It wasn't before she covered the wound with a handkerchief that she managed to wring her gaze straight again, beads of perspiration travelling over the peaks of a frown as forced breaths suppressed shadows anew.

Eulalia had never been good at dealing with blood, the small quantities of scrape wounds and flooding of deep gashes triggering contractions and clawing of her throat alike. While she could at least before, stomach the sight of it with the trouble of minor gag reflexes, she had with time, worsened to the state of almost folding over just at the thought of it. Even now it took her a considerable amount of strength to merely remain upright, shoulders having slumped forward for the briefest of moments at her weakest.

Weren't things like these supposed to get better with time, not worse? She couldn't help but snort, gloved hand rising to clutch her mouth as she craned her gaze skyward towards the assembling storm.

The silver hues were like molten silver, ripples of white steam peeking through the monochrome landscape to form rivers and congregate in the shape of a head. Then from the darkness emerged a body. Limbs arriving next to stack upon it in ashes as it hardened into the silhouette of a man. Though, perhaps it would've been more appropriate to call it the husk of a man. As it were neither man nor mortal for that matter, but a spirit which she had long sought.

An astrian.

The sword Sanguine, the blade which had felled hundreds during its peak wielded in the hands of the dark elves' creator; all supposedly of course, as all reliable sources had since then faded. Leaving only a few excerpts, one of them being a cautionary tale of a man who didn't reign in his horse at the cliff edge. To think that such a sword would have fallen into the hands of a commoner like that doctor and to think that the story was true at all. Truly a leap of faith which had paid off.

The man was confused, apprehensive, and righteously so as they looked like day and night from where they stood. One shrouded in the coat of night and the other, wrapped in moonlight veils. The woman, however, didn't look the least bit concerned and a light cough and pensive stroke of her chin later she approached.

"The legends have been spun well to put a goat in a tiger's skin, I must say that you're.." She started, taking a whirl of her own around his person before stopping in front; gaze panning from her bloodied hand to his face and then back again "- different from what I expected."

Well, of course, the stories would've been prone to alterations of the truth but still. Was this really the famed Vampire Lord? Wasn't virgins supposed to be some gourmet classified food for these creatures? Then how come he hadn't as much as flinched upon seeing her blood and not to mention, salivated over it? Her mental image and reality did, needlessly to say, not line up and so Eulalia was somewhat taken aback; turning her back on him in the next moment while forcing down the resurfacing nausea to recount the little facts she did know.

"Unremarkable sword surrounded in an evil aura check...summoning through shedding blood check...dark elf?" She gazed at the man over her shoulder, half-lidded bluejay eyes sweeping suspiciously from head to toe under a dragged out hum "-No matter how I look at it, it just looks like an old man??? A little ashen sure..but is...this it?".

Suddenly she perked, snapping her fingers in what seemed to have been a moment of eureka. This must be the right one because he had, after all, mentioned Sanguine. For this to be anyone else than him, would be a stretch of her otherwise luckless fate. So, in a pivot of heels, she faced the man again. A gentle smile coming to graze her delicate features as a gloved hand was extended.

"Yah...-I mean...ahem...Please forgive my rudeness sir, it's been a long day for this priestess. I've summoned you because I wish to borrow your aid in a matter that I alone can't mend with good intentions only."

Roman

Sylas wasn't very interested in the woman who stood before him. Naturally, he wouldn't be at least, but he was freed from his prison, by her hand. After all that time in his dormant state, he could feel that his body was reacting to something. He could feel it. He wasn't exactly sure what it was, but it felt familiar. A feeling he hadn't felt in quite a long time. Specifically in the stomach region. Remembering his research, the mortals he had before his defeat, would often complain about being hungry. Claiming that there was a pain in the stomach. Sylas' stomach didn't hurt, but it felt weird... And he could feel his mouth watering at the sight of this woman's blood. Whilst she covered the blood, Sylas found himself holding his hand back, refraining from going in to feed. Closing his eyes and looking away, he could smell the blood. It wasn't just any kind of blood. This woman was pure. The blood of a virgin... Right in front of him. This smell was the equivalent of a feast of the finest foods for someone like himself.

Attempting to ignore the blood, Sylas listened as she spoke. Her words struck true to his ears. Sylas was never one who cared much for age, having existed for as long as he did, it seemed like a pointless concept and so did time. Shaking his head as she finished speaking, he furrowed his brow and tilted his head. The less she had to say to him about his appearance, the better. Having gone so long with a lack of sustenance left his body losing its youth-like appearance. When he needed food, his appearance would begin to change ever so slightly, becoming skinnier and batlike. This was a more feral state. Going without food for so long would cause him to go into a bloodthirsty hunt, and he would consume as much blood as needed unless he managed to drink something before he was forced into such a beastly state.

"You're inspecting me? For what mortal? It's not like you could even dream to understand the concept of what I am or what I am capable of. This body is merely a disguise... but I am succumbing to my own hunger. I have been keeping myself from drinking the blood from you as we speak... And it isn't easy, virgin woman... The smell of your pure blood is almost intoxicating."

As he finished speaking, watching as the woman circled around him, he focused his gaze on her as she stopped in front of him. He sighed in response to her smile. Telling him that she had a long day was not enough of an excuse to excuse her rudeness. At least in his opinion, but he allowed it just this once. Sylas' piercing white eyes became as piercing as daggers as she went on to tell him that she needed his help to do something. Whatever it definitely required the skills of some divine being, but someone of a darker nature, such as himself. Bringing a hand up to his chin, he began to think. Sylas began to speak, grinning as he did so.

"You need my help? The only way I can do that is if you enter a contract with me. I'll be willing to help you as long as you're willing to help me... But to enter this contract, you'll have to become a vampire and then drink virgin blood. From what I've observed, you can barely stand the sight of blood. How would you manage to live the life of a bloodsucker? It'll be your source of life and to obtain it, you'd have to consume the blood within other people."

 

[Kloudy]

Marx Aurelius
(East-Elysia - The Guildhouse)

The cuff jolted Marx more than he had been expecting and he rubbed his shoulder somewhat sheepishly, his noble demeanour slipping for a moment. Astrians truly were strong even in more domestic environments.

"Luckily for us, there will be no need if Mr Tyieson here can be of assistance."

Marx turned to the larger man opposite the low table to gauge his response. It seemed to be a mix of overwhelmed awe and curious puzzlement.

"Gods... Aurelius, I- I have never laid eyes on a.... Is it truly a...?" He didn't finish his sentence, but Marx's confirming gaze said enough.

"Yes, although I presume she would prefer not to be called an 'it' if you would."

"A-ah yes, my apologies." The guildmaster stumbled over his words slightly before taking some effort to recollect himself. Marx gestured to Arnora.

"As you can see, Arnora does not seem to appreciate concealment through means of her bound item. I was hoping you had a more 'freeing' method of enshrouding."

Tyieson's eyes glinted now; business was something he could handle with confidence.

"Coincidentally enough, I may have such a particular item at hand!"

Tyieson got up and moved to the other side of the room. rapping on a side door to which he swiftly disappeared through. He returned a few moments later with a small wooden box. He laid it on the table and gestured for Marx to reveal its contents. Obliging the request, Marx did so delicately. Inside was lined with some kind of smooth fabric, a mould nestling a small ring within. It was effeminate and thin with a jewel at the centre. Tyieson grinned knowingly.

"A polymorphic enchantment ring. If appearances are all that's worrying you, this beauty can certainly change that."

With this they would no longer need to worry about Arnora standing out or attracting undue attention. The Human Kingdoms were dangerous places, not out of any fear of monster or bandit attack, but for the people inhabiting it. Humans truly were opportunistic creatures, Marx bitterly knew. Any advantage he could hold over those that would see him undone was one he was very prepared to take. As regrettable as the consquences of those advantages may be.

Marx nodded thoughtfully and looked over at Arnora expectantly.

"Would this suffice?"

Darkling0096

 

[EMIYAman]

Elias Pholus

Coast of Rudoras, Fishing Village Elias' home​

Elias stepped out from the bramble with today's latest catch. Nothing fantastic, but a elk was impressive enough to satisfy. The antlers would certainly fetch a nice price. He carried the dead animal on his back with the legs on either side of his head and the belly braced against his shoulders. It wasn't light, but Elias had handled weight like this enough times for it to be negligible. He grunted a bit as he adjusted the carcass so as not to slip, and continued his trip back to the village. The sun had officially made its ascent into the sky for today and would continue rising for hours. There was some heat, but living next to the coast gave you that sea breeze chill so things stayed comfortable. Elias stayed on his current route and eventually found the dirt road leading home. He found himself in front of an old wooden gate; the village entrance. With a grim sigh of anticipation Elias knocked on the gate. A man poked his head out from a top the gate. His hair was dark and short; his face rugged and tanned. "Who goes there?" the mans voice calls out with a honeyed lilt.
"I come out here almost everyday Peter, and I tell you when to expect me and yet you still ask me who I am?" Elias questions dryly.
No response. Elias palms his face and shakes his head, annoyed at the mans antics.
"I am Elias Pholus, and I have just returned from hunting."
"Oh well why didn't you say it was you Elias?" Peter opens the gate with a rickety creak.
"I see, so you want to die is that it Peter?" Elias intones with a deceptively bright voice and disarming smile.
The aforementioned Peter laughs off Elias' threat, "Oh please, you know Lyria would have your ass if you did anything."
"Tch..." He sucks his teeth, annoyed at being called out on his bluff so easily, "That's Sister Lyria to you Peter."
Peter flippantly waves his hand at Elias as he trudges past him. Elias gives Peter side-eye, but has a friendly smirk on his face. Elias makes his way through the village all the while the residents give greetings and thanks for past services. He gives them in return a greeting of his own, but excuses himself just as quick.

His modest house lies on the outskirts of the village on a nice hill overlooking the orphanage he once called home. Elias' place of residence is quaint and has only one floor. The foundation is made of local wood he cut himself, the windows are of glass donated by the craftsman of the village, the roof was thatched and adequately did its job. It didn't look like much and it certainly wasn't able to host a nobleman anytime soon but it was the place he had made his own and was enough to house a small family let alone one person. Elias pushed open his front door with his body weight, took careful steps into the house and finally deposited the carcass of the elk onto his work table. His shoulders were strained so he decided to finish skinning and dressing the dear later, but made note to do so before too long.

Elias unclasps his sword from his side before moving onto his armor. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, he didn't run into any monsters so they were unnecessary this time around. Not soon after he finished a knock sounded at his door. Elias first reaction was irritation, but that vanished when he realized there was only one person who would visit him like this so soon after returning. With sudden influx of energy, Elias dashed to his door with a ecstatic smile on his face. He was met with none other than Sister Lyria, who still kept close contact with him despite not having been her student for years now. Her long bright golden hair, piercing emerald eyes and pointed ears were a welcome sight. Sister Lyria was a half-elf who, similar to Elias, was abandoned by her parents. She was taken in by a nunnery and as such has been with them all her life. Though at 108 years of age she has outlived all those who used to care for her. Now she merely helps out in a little known orphanage out in the boonies. Elias always wondered why she came here and decided to stay for so long. Rather than practice her faith out there and explore.
Lyrie rather unceremoniously glomps Elias the moment he opens the door, "Eli!" Her voice was pure and sweet as liquid honey, "How good it is to see my darling boy again! May the lord be with you this fine day."
Elias barely churns out a muffled, "and also with you." before he is dragged back into his house and brought to the kitchen table. The elk corpse nearby is completely ignored by her.
"I brought you" -she took a leather bag off her shoulder and pulled something out of it- "a gift."
Elias examined the item, it was a tin container. She held it out in her hands like a particularly proud child. He gave her an inquisitive look, but took the tin into his own hands and popped open the lid to look inside. The moment he did a flavorful aroma caressed his nose, one he was all to familiar with.
"Coffee beans!?"
She placed her hands on her hips looking rather smug, "That's right, and these aren't just the normal batch either. A merchant brought these from the capital."
Elias openly gawked- surprise evident on his face, From the capital! he thought, Their quality far outstrips the stuff you can find out here!
He was interrupted from his reverie by the words of Lyria, "Well Eli? Aren't you gonna give this Sister praise, and perhaps offer up a cup coffee in thanks?"
"Ah- right, of course" -he clears his throat and puts on a polite tone- "thank you Sister Lyria I am truly grateful. May I interest you in a cup of coffee to better convey my appreciation?"
"You may."
He immediately went to his work excitedly. The beans were even a dark roast- his favorite. A mortar was brought out with which to finely grind the beans. The fine grind as opposed to a coarser one was to get as much flavor out of the beans as possible. After he was finished with that, he brought out a sieve to remove the larger pieces and strain the rest through. Then he started to boil some water in the fireplace, and continued his work while he waited. A cabinet opened and out came a glass flask shaped like an hourglass. A drawer was then opened in tandem and a filter is pulled out from it. Elias folds and places the filter into the neck of the flask before adding the coffee grounds. The water now thoroughly boiled is lifted from the fireplace within a pot and is gradually poured through the coffee and filter, allowing the brewed coffee to take form. All of this is done easily and efficiently within the hour, and a content woman merely watched Elias work.

Soon after the two are sat at the table with smooth hot coffee cups in their hands. In this moment true peace and equality is achieved through a mere beverage. They are silent for a time content with each others company and their drinks. Elias absentmindedly fingered a golden pendant around his neck- looking out of the window and into the sky. Lyria notices his tic and adopts a melancholic smile. To her, Elias may as well be an open book.
"You aren't fulfilled here, are you?"
Elias is stunned for a moment as if he had forgotten she was there, "What? Why would you say that? Of course I'm happy here!"
"That is not what I asked." She looked him deeply in the eye her expression firm.
It dawned on Elias that this was a woman who had lived for over a century, and would continue to live for many more. He averted his gaze knowing he could lie to himself, but not to her.
"I..." He trails off; there are no words.
They sit in silence, before it is disturbed by one last question from Lyria.
"Elias, what makes the sky blue?"
"I don't understand." He says, a puzzled expression on his face.
Once again that melancholic smile return, "Yes, I imagine you wouldn't."
They finish their coffee and Lyria gives her usual goodbye of a hug and a blessing. The door closes and he is left alone in his home once more. The elk still sits to the side- he can't find it in himself to care. He grips his pendant looking for some small comfort and guidance in its presence. He grimaces, his face resembling a lost child. I have been laid bare by just a few words and the stare of a woman. How scandalous. He chuckles darkly to himself. Before devolving into sobs. A lost child.

 

[Darkling0096]

Arnora the War Hawk
Bound|Galeford Guildhouse|Interaction: Kloudy ​

"There was no need to begin with!", Arnora objected. And she didn't think there was. Marx traveled with a man similar in size to herself, she stood out no more than the goliath human Kraven. Arnora looked ready to smack Marx again, but the guildmaster's adoration was a momentary distraction. "See, someone knows my value." Why couldn't that man have found her dagger? Arnora knew that thought was childish, she was lucky to have been found at all before she went insane, but still.

Arnora busied herself looking around the room, taking in all the bits and bobs the guildmaster had collected and put on display over the years. Some magical, some mechanical, some just pleasannt to look at. After a few moments of his searching, the guildmaster produced a ring for changing one's shape, and Marx asked her if that was sufficient. "If it is your desire to be an animal, I will not stop you," she replied to the noble. That was what polymorphic abilities did. Granted, some creatures could polymorph into objects, such as mimics, but generally it would turn things into beasts. It took Arnora a few moments to realize that the two men were asking if the ring was an alright option for changing her appearance.

"You are asking me to change my form?" She didn't sound happy with that idea. "You force me to reinhabit my artifact and now you wish for me to change my appearance? Would you like a dance and a bottle of wine while you're at it?" Perhaps it had been a mistake to come out. Maybe insanity would have been preferable to being told by a mortal that her form was wrong and a change was desired. Arnora hadn't partaken in the pastime of creating races to have wait on her, she had never had to keep up a population or deal with the desires of mortals in order to keep control over them. Her form was chosen because of its advantages and because she found it comfortable, not to maintain the interest or trust of mortals. Being instructed to change it was more than an insult to the Astrian.

"And what makes my form a problem?", she demanded of the two. "It had better be a legitimate issue if you want anything to happen."

3EE0BE

 

[Diphylleia grayi]

The foils of her unblemished skin shone harshly under the blaring rays of the sun, the shadows settling even deeper around crooked lips because of it; bringing tiredness to an expression which spoke otherwise. In the background, the cries of the cicadas grew in strength the longer they lingered, impatient lamentations over the stillness ringing out for relief but none responding. A soft breeze the only brief respite of sound in the lazy rustle of leaves and rippling of waves over the field.

Blinking slowly, Eulalia suddenly fell into a trickle of cracked sniggers. Eyebrow cocked to curiously arch at the end of it as crows feet crinkled mockingly in the corners of narrowed eyes.

"So the legends do have some truth to them..." Unshaken by his dismissal of her polite gesture, she withdrew the extended hand to let it rest on the hilt of the sword; bluejays gleaming with mischief as she did so "-Though...to think an astrian would worry about a mere mortal..."

Although she was smiling said smile only seemed to grow further and further from its original purpose, a disconnect between the thin lips which curdled up to expose teeth and the gaze which would soon come to stab daggers in the other as she suddenly shot out for the man. Bloodied palm pressing up against parched lips and nails digging into skin to scrunch up cheeks in a resolute grasp of his jaw.

"That isn't quite right..." She laughed and her grip tightened "Gods don't care about mortals so leave the worrying to me. All you need to do is accept this gracious offering."

It wasn't until the warmth of a tongue flicked over her wound, teeth descending in two stings into flesh, that she relaxed her arm; face faltering somewhat at the same time. As young as she looked for her age, skin fair from years of isolation within walls stone walls and harsh lines few from a lack of physical exertion she suddenly looked much older as she unravelled in an inevitable sigh. The sincerity returning to her expression in a tilt of her head, baring her neck along with a golden strand of hair which gave off a lustre just like satin.

"You should've just hit me instead of saying something so useless after I provoked you. Honestly..."

Let's not pretend that we're not using each other as tools.

After all, was said and done she strapped on her glove once again and tidied her appearance from possible dust.

"Three days, was it? Well, we'll be heading for the capital so there will be plenty of opportunities along the road. I'll be picking up my rapier as well so you can have this old sword after that. Let's go astrian."

"We'll stop at the first church."

Roman

 

[Tobi Naefaerne]

Estermead's Crown Prince​

Thomas Greyrat Otto Von Putsch
​

Far from home. A simple phrase, a concept many of the masses would have to deal with. But yet, in practice, the phrase meant both very little and a plethora of things to Thomas. Ten years, just over a third of his life, Thomas has been on the road from one political faction to the next. Not just touching base with the rulers and leaders of countries, but touching base, exchanging favors and forming alliances with major faction leads of each nation as well, refusing to end up on the bad end of anyone's political games. Outside of Estermead being a crown prince only got you in a door, for Thomas, his study the arcane arts of wizardry was his saving grace that stopped many misbegotten plots, whether they were against him or someone he wanted a favor from. Between that, and his royal guard's duty of protecting Thomas, even when he'd drag them into political nonsense for no clear reward, Thomas has been left unsacred by his time as emissary of the arcane human kingdom, even if the parting of some individuals left heavy weights on the prince's heart.

Once again, Far from home, in the near alien forests of the elves, where trees grow taller, thicker, and more durable than any man-made towers and walls. At his feet and far above caressing the sky, Thomas was met with green more vibrant however darker than his eyes and connecting both above and below was the grand trunks of beyond giant oaks. The task of navigating the ancient forest always made Thomas glad he never slacked off when it came to divination magic, for that slight possibility his guard and himself veer off of the merchant's highway, the only maintained road from the Human's nations into the Elven heartlands. Sunlight had only just started slipping through the canopy above when Thomas rose from the escapism of his dreams. Only having been to the Elven cultural capital of Ayanhil once before, Thomas was going to waste no time. Outside of his political mission there, he knew of one other point of interest that he hadn't the chance to act on before. While most of the city was either on, within, or hanging from the giant trees of the elven forest, there was still a quasi-religious sector of the city that rested on the forest floor. If the rumors Thomas had heard were true, then there wasn't one, but two Astrian bearing artifacts there. The problem was, apparently, either one or both were picky and so they have rested unmoved and unsummoned.

With that knowledge Thomas had his guard pick up camp early before sunrise was even done, traveling at a pace that the royal retinue would reach Ayanhil before noon. Arriving at the gates, Thomas took care of arrangements for the stabling of mounts and charges, irresponsibly taking only one of his guards with him as he B lined to the rumored location, having the rest of the guard seek out lodging for their stay. It took an hour of searching due to the fact that Thomas didn't want to cause any misunderstandings by casting magic, but he found the nearly lonely section of the city, that truly looked like it was built un from a sporadic village, with the ground around and spreading from the center of the sector was like a garden. Looking out it seemed like the canopy above had opened up so sunlight was always hitting the old village square. Even the very air felt different there as Thomas approach the artifact he saw sticking out of the ground. He was confused at first, for Thomas had thought it would be better guarded, but the Elves in the area instead let Thomas walk right to the center of the old village square, where the shaft of a polearm, of better craftsmanship he hadn't seen from the current age, stuck out of the grown. Pinned to the earth was what interested Thomas more. It looked like if one could even explain it, a pile of fires. None of them melded together, but rather defiantly remained separate. He knew many myths about the Astrian within the polearm, the Elves were known to worship it as their first ancestor, and so Thomas didn't want it. He was a prince of humanity, he couldn't be bound to a being too tied to another species. Instead, Thomas wanted to take a chance with the other Astrian, and while he knew there were tales of its destructive nature, there were also tales of its lifeforce and ties to the sun. Taking a deep breath, gulping, then muttering a few words in an otherwordly language, Thomas reinforced himself against fire and heat then reached into the pile of fires, only to find that through the fire and burning sensation, he could feel feathers. Feeling a flow to the situation Thomas let his mana flow into then out of his hand, speaking in the common tongue.

"My name is Thomas Greyrat, and I wish to form a contract!"

• More Info •

Location:
Ayanhil, Capital city of the Elves

Mood:
Prepared

Status:
Attempting to summon

Interacting with:
Lumina

Tags:
Lumina

• Character Sheet •
​

 

[Colorless Spectrum]

Yuann Tefezht

Yuann gave an uninterested gaze at the forest below, waiting for her two companions. Whatever they were doing, she was never particularly interested but she found it astonishing that Harin is able to have a goal despite the constant amnesia by using Yxial's power. She took in a breath, wondering why she's still hanging around with the young Aasimar.

She never planned any of this to happen, she just planned for the sucker to lose all of her Imoney then she would leave. But somehow… the half-elf let out a sigh before looking up at the sky. She sat by the cliff, letting her feet dangle unafraid by the danger of being at the edge of a cliff.

The clear sky gave off a gentle breeze that she relished. Yuann looked over to her Astrian, Ronath, looking at his best to appease their one companion that would often scream at his preferred form. “You think she’ll actually find him this time?”

mention: n/a|| interaction: Athanas

 

[Athanas]

Ronath whistled a merry tune as they waited, tapping his staff upon the ground to the rhythm. He was a stout believer in that it was the little things in life that made someone happy-The sun shone, the weather was okay, and he wasn’t stuck in a bloodstained locket! What more did one really have the right to ask for?

Much to his amusement, his summoner seemed to share the same opinion, sitting down by the cliffside and enjoying herself. He let a small smile brighten his features for a moment as he sat down next to her, willing the staff to disappear.

Yuann was a much better summoner than he’d have thought. Not that he harbored any ill will for any of his previous ones, not at all. But something about the determined stoicism and steady moral values she held despite of her story made her appealing. Complex. He preferred mortals who acted that way.

He even had the luck of reuniting with his friend! Yxial was one of the few Astrians to whom Ronath’s mere presence did not inspire hatred, dread, or disgust. They had met when Ronath had sought refuge in his grove, and they quickly grew to become friends. He hadn’t realized how much he lacked friendship until he had it-Not that he’d loudly proclaim that.

If only Yxial’s summoner was as appealing as these two. Not that she wasn’t sweet and nice- Harin practically dripped with affection for anything. Even him. And therein lie the problem.

She was an Aasimar. An agent of the angels. A lover of the law and a bane of all evil. Except, she wasn’t. She seemed to absolutely spit in the face of his curse, though not an outsider. She vehemently refused to kill, even in the name of excuses such as “justice” or “they were evil!”, no sir. She was totally, wholly, mind-bogglingly nice. It didn’t matter who you were, thing’d give you a hug.

And it vexed him. It vexed him to no end. For he always preached that such a person was impossible to exist. Even when someone would start out with such noble intentions, sooner or later they’d get corrupted by the sheer animosity of the world. They’d begin excusing the murder of those “Impossible to save”, begin preaching that “they needed the money more than they do” and other such pretty lies that mortals and Astrian alike like to tell themselves.

It had been years. And Harin still remained every tiny ounce as cheerful, optimistic, and helpful as she had ever been.

Trying to get his mind off of it, he turned his attention back to the summoner’s question. “I cannot know for sure. But I do hope they find him. Do you wish to know why?”

“Because I’ve asked around, and I’ve been listening. There is but one Prince-Prince Thomas. So, if we’re talking about a second prince, someone whom none know about, yet we’re sure is a prince...Well, it doesn't take a genius to figure out what that entails, hmm?”

He waved his hand, and in front of them, floating above the cliff, appeared an illusion of a prince in a crown. From behind him, another appeared, stabbing him in the back and taking the crown from the body.

“An outsider prince. Seems like he’d be right up my alley. Ah, but I’m not looking for a change. I’m quite happy with what we’ve got going, for now.” He gave her a small pat on the shoulder. “I’m most intrigued to see how Harin reacts to this, though.”

 

[Colorless Spectrum]

Yuann Tefezht

Yuann gave Ronath a dubious look. She really didn't want to hear some deep explanation that her Astrian does at times. But before she could even speak, he was already about to go off on his monologue which prompted the half-elf to roll her eyes. A shake of her head as she had no other choice but to hear his spiel.

A frown etched on her lips, she didn't even try to hide the discomfort that she felt. She simply gave out a small humm as she got patted by her Astrian. She didn't like the illusions that her companion had conjured, because it looked a lot like what she had done to her own brother, even if half a century has passed since then. "That is for Harin to deal on her own. Frankly, if she gets duped by that Prince of hers, might be a good lesson for her to not be too trusting." She scoffed with a slight irritation.

"I'd tell her that I'm dying the next day and I'm sure she'd believe me. With or without our contract." She said frankly, taking out one of the daggers that Ronath has given her. Playing with it to pass some time, flipping it around from one hand to another.

mention: n/a|| interaction: Athanas

 

[Athanas]

Ronath smirked slightly as he saw Yuann roll her eyes. She was a cynic at heart, and no amount of preaching was going to change that. Still, he felt, she’d have to at least grasp some fragments of what he was telling her, right? He firmly believed in not forcing his views upon anyone-but he believed just as firmly that one’s ideas should never be silenced. No matter how “bizarre” or “abhorrent” they were.

He flinched slightly as he noted her obvious discomfort-of course, the murder of siblings was something that hit close to home, and he waved the illusions away. Quickly, he filled the silence, trying to take his summoner’s mind off of it. “Ah, yes, indeed. She is far too trusting for her own good...And yet, somehow, she’s still here. Vicious mercenaries could exploit her, but alas, none have. In fact, one of them is actively skipping her payments.” He flashed her a slightly taunting smile. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not one to question why you’d choose to do this-None of my business.”

He watched a little as she played with his daggers, and he went back to whistling his happy tune for a while, before he decided to break the silence again. “Indeed, she would. Do you think...Maybe that is some sort of power? Like, she’s so nice even the worst of hearts cannot possibly muster the strength to do her harm?”

He chuckled at his musings.”No, of course not. There is no such power. She has simply been blessed by fortune. Maybe that is her gift? To have been blessed all her life with such good luck, she can’t possibly begin to fathom what else could possibly exist in life?”

He chuckled even more at the last statement, before he opted for a final question. “Once she finds this prince, and, if it turns out she joins him on his quest...Will you still tag along?” He made another illusion-a marching band following a royal figure.

Colorless Spectrum

 

[Colorless Spectrum]

Yuann Tefezht

Yuann gave her Astrian the stink eye upon his comment about the payments. "Shut up, Ath." She says that but deep down she knew that she was getting attached to the young blonde. But she won't tell that to Harin out right, never. If she admits how she feels then it just means that she accepts the fact that she's grown soft once again and she doesn't want that.

Through Ronath's constant ruminations had also made the half-elf wonder inside her head. Doubting that her good words would change the alignment of the darkest heart out there. The gift of fortune? Then how ironic it is that she is now with someone that has been followed by misery since birth.

She stopped playing with the dagger the instant she was asked that last question. She never really thought that far ahead. “No matter what, she is still a mortal. Hearts are fickle and they change, I doubt that she is immune to it… there is darkness in all things after all.” She said rather grimly, even for her. She wasn’t one to be so brooding, not like this.

Yuann clenched her teeth and threw away the dagger at the illusion of the prince. “Depends if I feel like it, I don’t really care about this prince’s sob story.” She got up and turned around, her back facing the forest below. Her brows were crunched up in a knot, and arms crossed. “She can join that prince of her’s for all I care.”

mention: n/a|| interaction: Athanas

 

[EMIYAman]

Elias Pholus

Coast of Rudoras, Fishing Village ???​

People often talk about the quiet of the land at night or the silent peace one could find in nature. All speak of a lack of the sound and reverberations that one finds in civilization. Where even the most still of moments have the presence of sound. Here, there was none. Nothing but silence. Elias stood upon his front yard overlooking the village. There were no people outside; the village was a ghost town. The only thing left was Elias. There was no wind, the grass and trees sat still like monoliths. Even the ocean was still. It resembled a giant mirror which reflected the light, no ripples or waves disturbed the surface. Elias was subdued as he felt nor thought of anything, merely observing.

Off in the horizon a beam of light struck down, somewhere. It was crimson in color and could likely be seen for hundreds of miles in every direction. For the first time Elias felt something in this place. Rage. Raw unadulterated hatred for that light. His gaze was brought back to the village erasing his emotions once again. The orphanage that had been his home stood in the distance. Then, another slimmer beam of light descended from the sky without warning. It touched upon the orphanage and then all was still once more. A flash. A wave of white light expanded from the spot in which the beam had struck. It slowly grew consuming all it touched. First the orphanage, then the church next to it, the granary, a well, the houses and finally towards Elias. He watched it all, the destruction of his home and seemingly anything else nearby. He merely stood impassively as the light threatened to consume him as well.

As the it inched closer and closer Elias could make out a shape in the center of it. The light seemed to stem from the shape. It was humanoid but giant and anything but human. Finally the light consumed him, erasing his being. The shape was clearer now. He looked upon it, that being of unquestionable power. The thing which seemed to have erased his home. It was awe inspiring, terrifying, inhuman and utterly-

"Beautiful." Elias said, as his eyes opened. The sound of crickets and a dark sky meeting his awakening. He sat up in his bed trying to grasp the lingering remnants of the dream only for most of them to slip through his fingers like sand. All he could remember was his feelings. He looked out his window it was still dark out but it was definitely morning. Elias decided to go out and hunt. He normally didn't do it this early in the morning but yesterday's happenings still bothered him, maybe he could distract himself for a time. As he started to prepare himself for his trip outside, he felt something linger on his lips. The name slipped out without thought, "Avriel..." the name was spoken without inflection and it took a moment for Elias to realize he had even uttered it at all. He startled before confusion set in. "Who is Avriel?" He wondered aloud. As he spoke the name again he felt a pull in his chest. An odd feeling. It was, longing.

 

[Athanas]

Belial braced himself for whatever monstrosity this Astrian was bound to look like. From his limited experience, they were otherworldly beings. Their forms, terrifying and confusing. And so he eyed the apparition wearily, as it's form shifted and contorted into it's more humanoid appearance.
He was proven wrong. This Astrian's form seemed to possess elven features-in fact, very appealing elven features, at that. The only notable tell of the being's identity were the wings on it's back, and the fact that it seemed constantly battered by wind.

He realized a few moments too late that he had been gawking like an absolute buffoon. He quickly lowered his gaze to the ground, his cheeks turning a slight hue of red. "Well, I-I'll lead the way... I-I suppose."

As they walked, he listened as she described all the things she'd ultimately try to teach him. "Don't worry too much bout my martial ability. Fighting, I'm quite decent at-Might be the only thing I'm sort of decent at. Though, I'm sure an immortal's pointers would be very useful. On the other hand, wind magic...Wind magic, I don't know jackshit about. So-So you can definitely give me some pointers." He shot her a concerned glance as she giggled about his training-what kind of trials would he have to pass? He resolved not to think about it.

After a few more minutes, they had made it. "Apologies for asking this of you so quickly, but can you hop back in real quick? I'd rather tell the Prince after he's found his. Otherwise, he might be demoralized. He's been looking for an Astrian for a long, long time. To announce to him that I just stumbled on you? Wouldn't do him much good."

As soon as she had, he placed the wristguard amongst the other little things in his backpack, and settled back into his bedroll. Before sleep took him again, he looked at the trees above, and had a thought.
"Did I make the right call?"

The next day went by without considerable fuss. Thomas and his entourage were supposedly on their way to go claim an Astrian-from what rumors they had gathered, it seemed to be a rather violent Astrian, and so he was concerned for the Prince's safety. However, this concern didn't show-In fact, nothing much showed past the intimidating mask that he insisted on wearing. In general, now that he had it, it definitely seemed his movements were more determined, more confident-as if though the concealment of his identity helped him feel stronger.

Still he couldn't shake the feeling that something might go seriously wrong, which was why he'd worn the ornate wristguard. If there was to be trouble, Ventus could probably at least delay the aggressive Astrian.

This unease only grew as he saw Thomas reach into the fire to retrieve the item, and he approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder and uttering a few words. The prince was now surrounded with a rather mediocre, but passable black and red shield. Without blood sacrifice, it was not much to write home about-but he doubted the prince would approve. His hand was on the hilt of his sword.

"Be careful, your Grace. Astrians are often bloodthirsty and fickle. It might lash out at you for no good reason."
He was well aware of the Irony of his words, but he chose not to comment on that.


CasualTea Tobi Naefaerne

 

[Athanas]

Ronath chuckled loudly at her glaring. He raised his hands apologetically “Hey, don’t blame the messenger! I only speak what I think! I’ll cut it out though, no worries”. Of course, the mercenary’s reputation would be absolutely tarnished if word got out that she was following the Aasimar around out of the kindness of her heart. Or maybe, the problem wasn’t so much the reputation? Maybe she herself needed to believe that she still was detached from others. She had told him her story, after all, and it was a known fact-Outsiders that delude themselves into thinking they can ever break bread with regular people are often in for a very large disappointment. He’d told his herald as much, and of course, he’d refused to listen-And now some elven maiden was babbling about the eyes on the walls, and he was-Actually, what had Belial been up to?

He let his mind wander from this topic, before her grim realization grounded him. Now, Yuann wasn’t usually about sunshines and rainbows but this level of spite was puzzling, even for her. He glanced at her quizzically, trying to discern her mood. “Mayhaps, yes. It sure seems the world operates that way, most of the time. Yet…She looks remarkably resilient.”

Her last statement caught him off guard once again. Something was a little off. Trying to at least brighten the mood a little, he made the Illusion of the prince yelp loudly as he was struck by the dagger, slowly collapsing as the marching band panicked and gathered around him. “Oh my, my! A regicide, Yuann? You sure know how to up the stakes.” Of course, he had understood what she meant-He was just trying to make banter. As she got up, with clear tension in her posture, he could practically feel her foul mood. He decided to try and do something about it.

He got up, and placed a hand on her shoulder again. “Is...Is everything alright? I know I’m hardly an avid advisor in such matters, but I can at least try to listen-maybe ranting about what ails you will help?” He underlined his words with a smile, and it seemed like a genuine one.

Colorless Spectrum

 

[Colorless Spectrum]

Yuann Tefezht


She let out a breath, trying to calm her frustrations but to no avail. Goes to show that she also didn’t feel like talking about her feelings. She never really did like being vulnerable. Yuann bit her lip trying to think about what she would say to her Astrian since she knows he was just trying to lighten up her mood without sounding too… bitchy.

While she has always been a bit of a grouch she isn’t one to just be right out rude. “I really don’t feel like talking ab-” She stopped seeing a glimpse of Yxial’s clothes who flew from the bottom to the cliff, dropping his master down.

The half-elf raised her brow at their beastly companion, listening to the information that the two had gathered with a neutral expression. She gave her head a gentle scratch amidst the pursing of her lips. “So it’ll be a quick one, then let’s get going.” She clapped her hands together, grabbing her bag from the ground and slinging it on her shoulder, her grim nature from earlier facaded by a blank mask.

mention: n/a|| interaction: Athanas . D O V E AI10100

 

[CasualTea]

Belial braced himself for whatever monstrosity this Astrian was bound to look like. From his limited experience, they were otherworldly beings. Their forms, terrifying and confusing. And so he eyed the apparition wearily, as it's form shifted and contorted into it's more humanoid appearance.
He was proven wrong. This Astrian's form seemed to possess elven features-in fact, very appealing elven features, at that. The only notable tell of the being's identity were the wings on it's back, and the fact that it seemed constantly battered by wind.

He realized a few moments too late that he had been gawking like an absolute buffoon. He quickly lowered his gaze to the ground, his cheeks turning a slight hue of red. "Well, I-I'll lead the way... I-I suppose."

As they walked, he listened as she described all the things she'd ultimately try to teach him. "Don't worry too much bout my martial ability. Fighting, I'm quite decent at-Might be the only thing I'm sort of decent at. Though, I'm sure an immortal's pointers would be very useful. On the other hand, wind magic...Wind magic, I don't know jackshit about. So-So you can definitely give me some pointers." He shot her a concerned glance as she giggled about his training-what kind of trials would he have to pass? He resolved not to think about it.

After a few more minutes, they had made it. "Apologies for asking this of you so quickly, but can you hop back in real quick? I'd rather tell the Prince after he's found his. Otherwise, he might be demoralized. He's been looking for an Astrian for a long, long time. To announce to him that I just stumbled on you? Wouldn't do him much good."

As soon as she had, he placed the wristguard amongst the other little things in his backpack, and settled back into his bedroll. Before sleep took him again, he looked at the trees above, and had a thought.
"Did I make the right call?"

The next day went by without considerable fuss. Thomas and his entourage were supposedly on their way to go claim an Astrian-from what rumors they had gathered, it seemed to be a rather violent Astrian, and so he was concerned for the Prince's safety. However, this concern didn't show-In fact, nothing much showed past the intimidating mask that he insisted on wearing. In general, now that he had it, it definitely seemed his movements were more determined, more confident-as if though the concealment of his identity helped him feel stronger.

Still he couldn't shake the feeling that something might go seriously wrong, which was why he'd worn the ornate wristguard. If there was to be trouble, Ventus could probably at least delay the aggressive Astrian.

This unease only grew as he saw Thomas reach into the fire to retrieve the item, and he approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder and uttering a few words. The prince was now surrounded with a rather mediocre, but passable black and red shield. Without blood sacrifice, it was not much to write home about-but he doubted the prince would approve. His hand was on the hilt of his sword.

"Be careful, your Grace. Astrians are often bloodthirsty and fickle. It might lash out at you for no good reason."
He was well aware of the Irony of his words, but he chose not to comment on that.


CasualTea Tobi Naefaerne

When Ventus noticed him blush, it was kind of cute but didn't tell him anything about it and pretended to not notice. When she heard Belial speaking in initiative, she pouted for a bit. "But I just got out, and you want a pretty lady like me go back?" She said jokingly before sighing into a smile. "Alright then. Just call me if you need me, okay? No need to shake the wrist guard to wake me up." She said before she returned to the wrist guard by turning into her apparition form and then flowing into the wrist guard. She understood where Belial was coming from, though it had disappointed her a little bit that Belial could be hiding secrets from the one he serves. A little splinter from the loyalty he said he has. Maybe it was a good thing, maybe a bad thing. She never met the prince yet, or seen how he's like.

Even in the wrist guard, she could still see what was going on outside. She's seen the prince and the others who accompanied him for his search for an Astrian. True, she understood the prince would want something to defend himself with or lead his armies with. It's only natural in human warfare you'd want the better hand.

Soon, she was able to see something similar to... fire? A fire Astrian? Was the prince attempting to summon an Astrian that was related to fire? There was only one Astrian she knew of that could... Solaria?! This prince is about to summon Solaria?! She's never seen her before but she's heard the stories back on the battlefield of that war. Her battles always ended in catastrophe. There was even a battle between her and someone else that terraformed the surroundings. It made her feel uneasy that the prince was summoning a supposedly terribly strong Astrian. But with what she is right now, she can't do much. Besides, it's not her call. Not yet at least. She can't act rashly based on what she's guessing. She just had to have faith that Belial was serving someone who rules for the good of the people.