Fantasy ~The Lords of the Magistone~

[SkyGinge]

Skype closed his eyes for a moment, the strong sunlight beaming down ok his pale skin as he felt Desiree's presence beside him. He would burn probably, but he didn't care; he was too busy enjoying the peace and serenity. Opening his eyes to the sound of Desiree's voice, he watched her clutch his cloak against her body, as if she were trying to stop her beauty from tumbling out. He followed her angry gaze to Cyril, and decided now was the time to present his question.


"Can I ask you something?" Skyre asked something, "It's just I've noticed your hatred of earth magic, and was wondering if there were any particular reason why you don't like it? Obviously if you don't want to share that's cool, but hey," He leant forward with a lighthearted narrowing of his emerald eyes, "Was just wondering."


Rubbing his tricep in both a comedic feigned injury from her punch and as if to try and conserve the thrilling soft sensation of her touch, Skyre let his grin elongate. He lifted his thin yet not frail arms outwards in a purposefully awkward shrug. "Well, you know," he grinned, his beautiful voice smooth as ever, "they say that good weather brightens the spirit. And isn't it just wonderful to be alive and around friends?"


Rising to stand next to her, his hand somehow found hers and clasped it earnestly. Skyre was a man who learnt from experiences, and the few times they had held hands earlier had taught him that it was alright because she was clearly comfortable with it too. "I can wait, and besides, I can use wind stuff to clean later anyway," he said a little quieter, eyes piercing here, "I'd much rather stay here and hear from you."

 

[Shura]

Rusar approached the river watching as the other girls dispersed further down stream She found a decent spot where the water wasn't to deep and set her belonging where they would be safe and dry. She sat by the edge of the river pulling off her boots and set them aside along with her cloak before looking around. It had been a while since she got a break long enough to actually wash off but it she was still unnerved by doing so out in the open. The last time she had been lucky enough to find an small cove enclosed by stones. Still this was a chance she might not get for a while longer so might as well take advantage of it. She pulled off her clothes leaving on her undergarments. She washed out her clothes as best she could with out any kind of soap before wringing out the excess water then setting them on a smooth dry stone in the sun to dry before stepping into the water shivering a bit at the chill.


Not wanting to deal with inching her way into the water she just dunked herself into the water completely for a few seconds before surfacing with a small sigh. She made quick work of washing of the dirt and sweat from days of traveling and fighting enjoying the small moment of peace on her own. Being with a group provided some sense of safety although it seemed this particular group had horrible luck when it came to avoiding trouble. However by some good grace they managed to get out of tight spots. Even learn a weakness to an impossible for all though the potion was limited and would only last for so long. Still she had grown to like group more than when she first started which was a good positive at least.


The huntress lingered in the river a few minutes before spying some splashing in the shallows reminding her that she had intended to fish at some point. She made her way back to the shore pulling on her damp shirt and shorts the clothing clung to her petite athletic frame. Rusar was tempted to heat her self up and dry off but gathering fish would just soak her once more so she left her cloths as they were. She pulled her hair back pulling it into a leather tie. She grabbed up her bow and arrow moving to the shallows to catch some fish for later.

 

[Effervescent]

After a time the fire crackled with life and blazed with heat. Desiree eventually emerged from the woods in a dampened state and sat down adjacent to him. Rederik offered her a friendly smile and a polite inclination of his head that appeared to be returned in genuine mirth. It was good to see her in a better spirit. When Skyre joined, he offered the same greeting, though rose to a stand. He was aware of their budding relationship and felt it best to allow them more personal space.


Naraya followed the pale man as he wandered slowly around the clearing without purpose. He stopped over in the shade of a tree and sat at its base. His companion sprawled out next to him, rolling over in the dirt a couple of times before resting. Rederik had not seen the brutal horrors under the village. He had not been a witness to what was buried, and it was apparent in his calm relief. There was no full understanding of the devastation the others had seen and felt.


Softly, Rederik began to sing a tune he had learned from his mother. The melody was somber and wistful, but his lips held a faint smile as he looked up into the tree's canopy.

"Many a night and many a day


Spent in the company of my dear


And for all the going away


I pray you never live in longing


Keep the mem'ry of us close


And shelter not your loving heart


The day will come to see you again


In green fields and rolling hills


Come what may I will call for you dear


Shelter not your loving heart"




His voice trailed off, and he looked down at Naraya, offering her a small pet under her chin. He had never known love in the way that could blossom within Skyre and Desiree, but that did not mean he was not loved. The family he once had loved him even with his flaws and strengths. Love did not exist in one form and did not need to be romantic in order to be validated. He began to dwell on the lost, and his eyes swept across the clearing at those within the camp. Everyone present had suffered love lost in some form, and it was a daunting task to find a way to prevent the remaining hope from being snuffed out by the Shadow King.

 

[Kharmin]

Skyre's question needled at her and she looked away from his gaze. Desiree sighed and reseated herself a bit more roughly than she had intended – the bruise on her butt from the river spill reprimanded her. She sat cross-legged with her arms in her lap and her head down. Her hair fell over the front of her shoulders and masked her face.


She started to speak, then stopped herself as she reconsidered her words. The topic was venomous to Desiree, but Skyre had broached it and in deference to him as the group's leader she thought that perhaps some explanation was deserved. Her posture was tense and distant as she finally sat up straighter and swept her damp hair from her face.


Her blue eyes were lost in another time, another place and Skyre could see fear in them. Not the kind of child's fear of the lightning, but the same, deep, abject fear that one has when their very soul is at stake. Even the look in her eyes when she had lost her magic was not as frightful as what they now showed.


When Desiree spoke, it was barely audible. "There is nothing positive that comes from practicing that kind of talent," she said as she clearly avoided calling it by its name. "It is the magic of death and decay, and it carries that taint with it."


She looked at Skyre with lost eyes. "When I traveled through Gregor's tunnel .... " she left off and looked up at the heavens. She wrapped her arms around her. "Gods, it was awful. It was like being dragged through the commoner's grave, except that I could taste it."


Desiree absently wiped a tear and put her arms around her again as she looked back at Skyre. There was deep uncertainty in her blue eyes. When she spoke, her words were hesitant as if she were struggling to find the exact ones. "I .... did some ... questionable ... things at the university. Things .... um ... things I am not ... not proud of."


The memories of Deckard returned and the many nights over the course of her second and third terms in his disgusting bed. His hands and lips on her body as he used her for his own satisfaction. She recalled his demeaning voice and the way he treated her, as nothing more than his plaything. She had endured the torment, the physical and the mental abuse so that she could practice her talent outside of the strict rules and confines of the university.


And when she could no longer take his stench, his foul touch or his taste when he plunged his tongue down her throat – when her spirit was about to break under the constant, ever-vigilant strain of him, she snapped.


Desiree couldn't remember the details. All that she knew was that her magic had come to her in full force and literally cut Deckard to pieces. Currents of air, sharp as scythes, had sliced through his body from every angle and left almost nothing to identify who he was.


In the aftermath, she was practically expelled from the university. The professors said that she was uncontrollable and would have to have her magic stripped from her, or else she would be a danger to anyone near. So, Desiree took her few items she could carry, and fled. In the morning, the university, and all within it, fell victim to the Shadow King.


Desiree wiped her hands over her face and swept them back through her hair. An expectant Skyre was waiting for her to tell him more, but she wasn't certain that she could trust him with her secret. Still, he had to know something.


She sighed and leaned close to him, so that she could whisper in his ear away from the hearing of those others around the camp. Her voice came strong and with conviction as she softly said, "I am far more dangerous with my talent than even the professors could ever know. This realization came to me as a result of a tortured past with an earth magic student. He was my first lover ... and the first person I ever slayed with my talent."

 

[The Wizard]

Ethan continued to work on his magic attempting to gather the mystic force but it seemed with each try he would lose his grip faster. His vision slowly faded a bit before he stopped falling back down on the rock to rest. He grabbed another pebble tossing it into the river. His frustration and fatigue was getting to him. His thoughts fell back to the day's of his teacher and his lessons of magic and its forms. How those gifted in the elements found a force tied with the element and could draw from it when it was given a source. This was always easy to see with the wind mages who where always within the element around them or the many others. Still the mystery of mystic was as his teacher said open and wild like the world itself. It could be molded to the user's desire and appeal always taken in what the mage who posses could wield. "Seems it'll take more then a few hours at the river to improve eh?" as he smiled towards the wisp.


Ethan recalled the book his teacher provided him and its definition of the art.


Mystic - magical art that is unique compared to the others. Each mystic magician chooses to use magic energy in an unusual way, such as long distance communication, possession of spirits and other odd arts. They attack using pure blasts of magic energy, and, as you would expect, the power of their abilities increase with rank and experience, ect.


Yet while he has found his knack with his wisp where then did this force originate from, what was its elemental draw its source. The wisp floated softly in front of Ethan keeping a slow steady hover always in his eye sight. He had hoped if what his master said and taught was true that to morph this ability should be possible yet the fundamental way to do so was not as easy. How much he had wished to have attended the university to experience other forms of the art for a way to understand. Ethan's knowledge of the alchemical nature of many things was useless when faced with this constant training and dead-ends. Not wanting to push any further he felt it best to put it beside him for now and head back to the camp.


At the very least the golden potion will need to be made in larger quantities and with its difficulty in cultivating it time would be a convenience the group would have. Putting it off for now so the group can rest Ethan felt it was best to work on what he could provide to ease tonight's break and rejuvenate what rest the group could gather. Filling some water into a skin bag Ethan grabbed his shirt, cloak and hat tossing them on as he walked back to the campfire. Reaching the group he was not surprised to see a familiar blossom together and he felt it was best they enjoy what peace they could get.


Reaching for the leaves and roots that had dried near the fire Ethan began to crush them into a fine powder wrapping them into a simple cloth to soak into the kettle. As the water started to heat Ethan removed his dagger to peel and cut the herbs and berries he had gathered. Putting his hat down he felt his brown hair drying quickly in the mid-day sun. The kettle slowly started to release a light steam as the cloth wrapped knot of herbs turned the water into a light brown. Removing the kettle from the fire so not to have it over boil he left it to cool on a rock as he used wild leaves to separate the berries, shrooms, and herbs. Hoping the others had brought something a bit meaty he felt it best to wait out as the tea slowly filled the air.

 

[Shura]

Rusar managed to catch three sizable fish, not bad a bad catch considering she was used to working with a net when fishing. The distortion of the water made it harder to target fish and broke a few arrows trying to catch them just reminding her that she needed to make more. She took her catch went back to where the rest of he belongings sat wringing out the water that had splashed up when she tried fishing. Not wanting to wait for her clothes to dry out she closed her eyes focusing on her magic letting it whine its way around her body engulfing her in a comforting heat that chased away the chill from the river water. She started to radiate an intense heat which cause the water to evaporate from her skin and clothes. "Much better" She sighed letting her magic recessed back into herself. She tugged on her boots feeling much better than when she arrived at the river, all that was needed was food. She piked up her catch along with her cloak and bag before returning back to camp.

 

[PicaPirate]

Warren was lying on the ground back st camp looking at the sky. After all the fighting after having injured his left arm and gone into a full battle so many times, he really needed this time to recover.


To some people it may look like that he was in deep thought, but really his mind was blank. A lot of things happened in a short period of time and it wore him out. Since when did he sign up to do such a mad chase?


Warren sighed. Looks like he was stuck with these people. After all, where else did he have to go? Its not like there is some town somewhere safe from harm where he can hide away in a tavern for some stiff drinks.


I would do so much for a good drink right now. Some proper ale to sooth my throat.


At least there was Rusar who was still a friend of his. Well, its not like they'll progress beyond friendship as much as he teases it. He's never seen any visual interest on her behalf, so he never fully pursued it.


Warren sat up and waited for the others in the meantime.

 

[Shura]

Rusar collected up some sticks and materials for arrow as she made her way back through the forest in the hopes she could make arrows in the down time. She got to camp seeing everyone at ease for once which was a nice change. She could smell that Ethan was brewing some kind of tea something she didn't necessarily like the taste of but it did have a pleasant scent. She sat near the fire next to Warren and started to skewered the fish she had caught to set them to cook. "Hey how are you holding up?" She asked knowing he was banged up a good bit even before they went on their rescue mission.

 

[PicaPirate]

"Healing. Ain't the first time I got beat up. How I got all these scars after all."


He chuckled. The arm was healing pretty quickly having washed it so it wouldn't be too much of an issue as long as they rested.


"I did take on a near mini army though. I'm not sure if I had gone so mad if we even would have survived!" Warren grinned. If they could reproduce that potion it would be perfect as it would allow him to give the beating those Shadow Warriors deserve.


Tapatalk is for scrubs. I use Tapatalk. Why are you talking to this scrub?

 

[SkyGinge]

Skyre's eyes furrowed. At once her body language had taken a dramatic decline, and at first Skyre had worried she would snap at him in another one of her mood swings. But this was something different; never before had he seen her so low, so insecure. Whatever it was, he suddenly wanted to hold her and tell her it was alright. Yet would that act to patronise her? They hadn't properly breached those grounds yet, and Skyre was reluctant to move. So instead he stood there, a concerned expression painted on his young features, arms crossed in concentration.


This is certainly no mood swing, the redhead thought as her story progressed. An awkward hand found itself to her shoulder, and he smiled, a little vacantly, to her. "You needn't feel any guilt, Desiree, and you needn't apologise for things long gone by. All I care about is the Desiree of the present, and she's not done anything regretable in my eyes so far." His smile rose again, but soon fell. A predictable answer it might have been, but from Skyre it was genuine: he couldn't care less about the bad deeds of old lives. As long as somebody was presently acceptable, he was fine. And naive as it was, he stood by it.


Nevertheless, her ambiguity didn't go unnoticed, and Skyre felt a little hurt that she hadn't felt able to tell him everything. Oh stop it, he scolded himself, it isn't all about you, and whatever happened clearly hurt her, so stop taking things personally. "I... I'm truly sorry though for what you went through," he stuttered a little, though his words rung with true emotion, "I understand it took quite a toll on you, whatever happened, and hope you don't have to face anything like it again." He withdrew from her for a second, and turned to face the horizon, his slender frame illuminated dynamically by the high sun. A lovable smile formed on his features, and without turning back, he said, "I guess that's one of the only beauties of this new world. It allows us to make a new start in a world where we don't have to be tainted by past mistakes."


Then something unusual flickered through his shrouded eyes, something unreadable that made him suddenly tense. As he turned back to face her, he was undeniably troubled as he attempted to shake off whatever it was that had seized him. "Just remember that," he smiled, distant. "And also that I will never judge you." Then he paced quickly away, down the hill and away, seemingly seeking strange solitude.

 

[Kharmin]

He was truly sorry for what she went through? Hells, she thought, I go through it every single hour of every single day. It wasn't so much that she killed Deckard, or even the way in which she had used her talent to do so. Rather, it was the extreme satisfaction she had felt at the time and the ease in which the deed had been done. It was effortless and instantaneous. One moment, Deckard was taunting her with his demeaning, lust-filled eyes and the next ... what was left of him was a puddle of blood with small particles of skin, bone and hair mixed within. Whoosh! Done.


It was the way her talent had come to her and acted on her base instinct that now worried her. With the trauma of the last couple of days and their incessant flight from capture – or worse!-- from the Shadow King's minions, Desiree could not in good faith trust herself with her power.


That was what frightened her. It was an addiction, she knew, her communion with her element. There was no way she would ever voluntarily release her hold on it and now she seriously doubted she actually could even if she wanted. The two of them were inexorably linked.


And then, Skyre started spouting off about a new world and new starts? She thought. How naive of him. Everyone here is tainted by their past; some more so than others. To ignore that would be their undoing.


He left by saying that he would never judge me, but he already has, she continued as her brow furrowed in slight annoyance. He's judged me and found me favorable, but judged me nonetheless.


Desiree sat and stewed over the conversation, oblivious to the ministrations of the others nearby and around the camp. There was something else about the dialogue, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She turned and looked over her shoulder and watched the young red-haired mage as he walked away and down the hill.


No, there was something else alright. Something about his expression before he walked away. Her story, such that she told him, didn't phase or surprise him. Did he already know? She wondered.


Desiree stood and dusted off the dirt that had stuck to her damp clothes. She turned and jogged toward Skyre and called to him, "Hey, fly-boy, wait!"

 

[SkyGinge]

Skyre walked briskly into the great green plains below, his frown as deep as the trough he now walked down. His final words had sounded hollow, he knew, but he had to say something quick, anything to get him away from camp. Quite suddenly his chest had felt tight and he his lungs had screamed at him for air. He couldn't figure out why, but he had to get away from them, fast.


And that was perhaps what troubled him most, the confusion. He hated the sensation of not being able to figure somethign out; he liked to have everything calm and controlled. An unexplained urge fell under this, and what made it even worse was that he knew he was right on the tip of realising what had irked him. He came to the slow realisation that the feeling that crushed him now had always been there, at least for a short while, lurking inside him. And then felt pathetic for letting himself have such a weakness.


He hadn't wanted to see Desiree's reaction, he knew that much. Whether it were rebute, which he felt like he had been on the recieving end of a fair few times, or unlikely appreciation, he had wanted to get away. What's happening to me? Why am I so confused? Maybe it was just that he disliked the way he had turned to ambigiously sweeping statements and retreated into enigma in responce to her vagueness. Maybe it was that he knew that his normally powerful words, words that he knew his voice carried to inspiring heights and envigorated others, always seemed to fall a little flat on the one person who he really wanted to impress. Or maybe her pet names for him, the slightly patronising way she always apologised to him after an outburst, outbursts he felt likely to be responcible for, the potentially forced nature of her returned affections, maybe they had built up and called him to a break.


You're acting like a teenager, grow up. You're a leader now, you have a great responcibility in the group, said Skyre's brain. But his heart shreaked: AWAY! You need air! You need space to breathe! And so he paced on with a sigh.


Then behind him, he heard a charming voice, a familiar voice that seemed to make his heart even heavier. Pulling on a brave face, he span around and turned with a weary smile to the approaching Desiree. Wordless, he waited for her to do whatever she had called him for, and then maybe he could be left in peace.

 

[Kharmin]

Desiree slowed her jog as she approached Skyre. She tucked her damp hair behind her ear as her blue eyes regarded him with concern. She came close, reached out and lightly grasped his triceps with a gentle hand. "Hey," she said warmly. "You alright?"


"Look, I'm sorry if what I said upset you," she continued as she released his arm. "I ... um, well, I know how you feel about me and ... well ... I didn't want to tell you this sordid past of mine. Deckard, " the name stuck in her throat and reminded her of his selfish, deep kisses that she deplored, "he was ... he was someone who helped me at the university." It seemed odd to Desiree to term Deckard's lustful groping as 'help', but in truth without his interference with the faculty, she would never have been able to practice her talent so freely.


Desiree turned away, ashamed. She laughed at her embarrassment, but her laughter didn't carry the same mirthful tone as it usually did.


"It's funny, actually," she said as she tried to explain. "I've never felt remorse for what I did to him." Desiree turned back to Skyre and added, "Until today."


She sighed and the air nearby swirled lightly around her which caused her hair to dance at its brief touch. Desiree had not made any motion to cause the air to stir; it just happened at her whim. Her talent had grown exponentially and her ability probably matched that of some of the professors. She smiled sweetly at the caress of the wind, truly happy at the exposure to her element. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it wafted away with the rest of the natural air current.


Desiree's smile turned to a slightly more serious expression. "Skyre, believe me when I tell you that he deserved to be punished for the hell he put me through. His pawing, dirty earth mage hands, his foul tasting earth magic breath and ... well ... " she trailed off.


"But he didn't deserve what I did to him," she concluded with a somber demeanor. "Hells, Skyre, no one deserves what I did to Deckard. And what frightens me the most," she said as her blue eyes widened with a hint of terror, "is that I might do that to someone I care about."


Desiree looked away, "I might do that to you."

 

[Cookie]

Ari sat near the fire, taking in the smell of brewing tea with the landscape. It was beautiful here; there was no doubt about that. But somehow, she couldn't enjoy the scenery. It didn't feel right to be resting on calm, open land. It was much too contradictory to everything they'd experienced thus far and everything they would experience until reclaiming peace or dying (with the latter being more likely). Ari would have preferred to stay within the tree line. This place, pristine and peaceful though it was, provided no cover. It felt exposed, the one thing Ari did not want to be at the moment. Nonetheless, she resigned herself to gazing at the landscape and trying to find the contentment she'd felt within the forest two days ago.


Had it really only been two days? It was tough to say, given her whole underground experience and being knocked out and whatnot. Perhaps it was three then. But it hardly mattered; Ari was simply glad to be out of that mess and back with the group. Keeping track of time was frivolous as long as they all made it through each day.


Still, it was an unusually short amount of time for a ragtag group such as theirs to be working this well together. Ari watched as Ethan prepared the tea. Rusar had placed the catch of the day by the fire to cook. And Skyre and Desiree were off somewhere nearby, having a chat. Already, this felt normal. Ari could imagine many days coming and going like this one, with the only difference being an ever-changing backdrop. They were a team. Maybe not the most well-oiled or strongest team, but a solid team. They'd proven that at least in the rescue mission. And they'd proven themselves trustworthy to Ari, going to such lengths to save two of their own. It was no longer fair for her to distrust these people. Even though she knew little of their pasts, they were all working toward the same goal. Except her. Ari had never wanted anything more than to be a light master, even in these troubling times. But it wouldn't be worth it if Valia fell to ruin.


Ah, light magic be damned! Ari thought. She owed these people more than that. They were good people, they deserved better. One magical mastery is enough, especially now that I can use it again. she told herself, weaving a spark of lightning between her fingers. It arced playfully, glad to be at her fingertips again. She lengthened the spark between her hands, drawing more of the natural charge from the air. The air here was excited with charges, making it easy to generate lightning. Ari drew a small circle in the air, dragging the lightning around with her fingertips. It had been a while since she'd played with her magic like this. Ever since the fall, Ari reserved her magical talents for combat. The lightning made small crackling noises as she formed it into a ring. Light magic never obeyed her as easily as lightning, despite its natures. It always seemed as though light would be easier to manipulate than lightning, but that was not the case with Ari. She always knew what the lightning wanted, all she really had to do was convince it to do otherwise. Her little ring of lightning, for instance, wanted nothing more than to jump into the ground, as all charges want to balance themselves out. Ari tightened the ring, packing its power more densely until it became a ball. She let it fall into her hand, not quite holding it. Creating a small ball of lightning had been so natural for her, despite being against the nature of lightning. Ari gazed at it. Even this small charge had the ability to kill. Light could never do that. Perhaps it was that she didn't quite understand the nature of light and that was why she couldn't manipulate it easily. Ari sighed. She closed her hand over the little lightning ball, watching it dissipate into a thousand tiny sparks back to the air that it came from.

 

[SkyGinge]

Skyre made a gurgled noise of recognition that acted as a weak 'Yep' to her question, but once again Skyre felt as if he had forced her to take action by being pathetic. His heart sank slightly at 'I know how you feel about me', though he knew inside it wasn't a new revelation; he had kissed her before after all. Something had clicked inside of Skyre however, and his usually hopeful outlook had plumetted to an overly self-critical pit of wallowing, and even that fond memory reminded him of how he had probably let her down by not at all following the action up. What was he expecting to happen? Was Desiree really going to return his affections out of the blue? Of course not, and he had to pull his head out of the clouds and get back to reality. Yet beyond all this, Skyre found himself just wanting to be alone once more, and shifted nervously on his feet, his boots clopping softly on the springy grass.


The mid-morning sun shone viciously now on the grassy hills, the thin shadows coursed by blades of grass the only darkness in sight. Skyre wished he could shelter underneath on. Deckard's name brought back sudden memories of university life to him though, and his frown turned more reflective as he tried to cast his mind back to identify the figure. Sadly, he found himself unable to picture him, but nevertheless the revived memories gave him a new leash of energy that prompted him to speak. "Deckard..." he mused, "The name sounds familiar. I think some of the girls I knew spoke about him a few times." Skyre had always thought Desiree was at least a little older than him, but had somehow missed the fact that they could potentially have studied at the same time and never met each other. After all, the magic schools were so popular that intake was huge (by Valian standards) and there were several different classes and time-tables per year.


In the while that Desiree spoke, Skyre was already formulating a responce. But her final words through a complete curveball to his ideas. What could he say to that? How could he find the way to console her when he often found his words useless on her anyway? There was a brief pause whilst he considered carefully what to say.


"Desiree," he finally coughed out, wishing his heart would stop thundering against his chest. "You haven't upset me, and you didn't need to tell me anything." His arm quivered its way to her shoulder once more, where it remained for several seconds of silence. "Please don't be scared. It... doesn't suit you." His free arm shook rapidly as he realised once again that words had failed him.


Not this again.





His arm suddenly stopped wobbling, and now with a stronger, reassuring grip he span her around to face him, willing a light beam of clarity through the clouds of confusion inside him. His emerald eyes looked down on her somewhat as he steadied himself with exhalation, and then before he knew it he was leaning in again. His small lips touched her cheek softly, carefully, and he kissed her once more. When he withdrew, there was something else in his expression, defiance perhaps.


"Desiree," he said in a beautiful half whisper, "I don't have in me the words to make you feel better about what you did, or secure that you won't do anything out of control. Crumbs, I barely even have the words to convey anything raw to you. But please, if you do know 'how I feel', know that I won't let you harm me or anybody else. I don't want this shattered Desiree." Meaningless words, he knew, but once again hoped the genuine emotion would shine out over what he said, that he could confort her somehow. Then a slight smile as his hand found the back of her hair, his small fingers tangling with her damp hair. "'It doesn't suit you.'" He imitated his previous words. Confusion could wait: she was more important. 
Cyril had remained sat frozen stiff alone at camp, lost in some kind of deep thought. In his bricked-up hiding space he had at least had his books to distract him from reality, but now that they had been left in the village, he had no choice but to think once more. Po-faced, he stared off intothe distance, thoughts unreadable.


Then some kind of fizzing light brought him back to reality, and he watched with curiosity as Ari formed her lighting ball. At the sight if playful magic, he smiled, stood up and plonked himself next to her. "Interesting stuff, but wouldn't your magic energy be better spent reserved in case of another battle?" he retorted, although his jibe lacked the intensity and ferocity of his previous remarks. "Nevertheless, if we are going to have fun then I might as well join in." Clapping his hands together, he created a quick sphere of white swirling light, before letting it move over and dissipate into Ari, the sores of her wrists suddenly healing up. He tilted his head and smiled, crossing his leg over as he waited for her response.

 

[Cookie]

Ari stared at her wrists, trying to hide an excited smile. It was nothing she couldn't have done herself, but he'd done it so easily. He must have been a master, or at least very skilled. To think that she'd practically given up on finding a mentor!


She looked up at her healer with a reserved smile. Ari hadn't paid him much mind since the rescue, having had other tasks at hand. He seemed familiar, but she couldn't place him in her memory. Perhaps someone from the university? But anyone who was willing to help like that couldn't be a bad person...right? Regardless, it was more important now than ever to make a good impression. And Ari had done that thing she was always doing, forgetting to introduce herself. But it was not too late to remedy the situation.


"Ah...thank you." Ari smiled politely. He seemed young, but that hardly mattered if he were willing to teach her. "I'm Ari, by the way." She paused, hoping that he would introduce himself in return.

 

[Kharmin]

Desiree blushed at the soft kiss and closed her eyes with a contented sigh when Skyre ran his fingers through her hair. She broke from her reverie and sat on the ground, cross-legged again. "Please sit with me?" she asked.


"Skyre," she said, "I ... I wanted to tell you. You're so kind and have been so thoughtful toward me that you deserved to know." Desiree looked around as she tried to find the words to say. Then, "I do know how you feel toward me. You accept me and all of my faults without question. It makes me smile and I feel giddy inside when I think on it and I believe that you and I do have something that we can share."


Here it came. There was no easy way to dress it. "But," Desiree continued, "please understand that my last ... relationship ... was strained and very difficult for me. I still haven't come to terms with what I did to Deckard and it truly does worry me that I might do the same to you."


"Skyre, you're sweet and charming and perfect for any girl," she said knowing that her words were rending his heart. It was not her intention, but she had to speak plainly while the opportunity was there. She hoped that he could see the sincerity and honesty in her blue eyes. "But the memory is still very, very raw for me."


She took his hand between hers and held it firmly. A growing affection lit her eyes as she looked at him. "I know that there is a spark between us, Skyre," she said, "and I am willing to coerce it into a flame if that is our destiny. I do care for you and you are very special to me – probably more than you realize. I have never really known what it means to love someone and I am still trying to sort through it all. With all that I've been through in the last week, I just need comfort right now, the kind that only a good, dear friend can provide."


With wide, bright blue eyes that held no deceit, Desiree said, "I would very much like that person to be you."

 

[The Wizard]

Ethan finished milling the herbs mixing them with some water so they would make a paste. Looking over the group their injuries where minor and at the very least it provided a chance to give them some time to recuperate, from their travels Ethan had taken note of those who needed tending from Warrens deep scratches, Rederick still cupping his side, and the others with scratches and bruises. Preparing to set out to tend to them he noted Ari playing with her magic which left him amazed at how ease she toyed with the electrical element. She still had her sores from the chains and Ethan decided to treat her first. Leaving the fire he went to his satchel to grab some rolled cloth, however when he turned back to head to her he noted Cyril with a smile had been enjoying her company, it was then Ethan slowly put his bandages away, his face for a moment blank as he let the paste of herbs fall to the grass. Cyril had conjured a simple orb of light and what would have taken half a day to heal was now gone from Ari's wrists.


Though the others did not notice Ethan simply took a deep breath as he cleared his face with his simple smile. Clenching the cloths in his satchel Ethan had forgotten that the white mage was now with them and the unbitter truth laid heavy in his heart. His wisp slowly fell to his shoulder pulsing lightly as if to ease his mind. Walking back to the fire he did not speak a word simply pouring himself a cup of the tea and grabbing his hat. Lightly bowing his head to the group so not to disturb them he dismissed himself from the camp. Stepping away Ethan bit his lower lip trying hard not to burst from his uselessness now. He decided this was no time to stay idle and if a pompous arse of a prince can finally be of use he decided to let it be.


Ethan walked to the edge of the forest deciding it was best to clear his mind of this annoyance and proceed on what mattered in the end. Removing a parchment and pen he wrote down the ingredients of the golden potion noting the more difficult of the ingredients would need to be cultivated from a gray moss. With his list in hand now he turned to his wisp and without word the ball began to fly through the forest in search of what he needed. The first bits where easy to locate thanks to the thick forest, the corpis slugs where always a vibrant species that flourished in dead wood. From the forest Ethan met the river where he gathered the white stones that polished from the bank. The wisp simply glowed and pulsed anytime the ingredients where located but Ethan knew that the hard part wasn't finding them but combining them. The final ingredient was the gray moss normally growing east side of exposed roots, gathering enough of it was no easy task but slowly Ethan was able to gather two vials of the moss.


Though time seem to creep by this adventurous search distracted Ethan as he removed his vials and tools. Using a make shift bowl from leaves Ethan crushed the white stone till it was a coarse powder. With the powder Ethan took the slugs and covered them watching as they slowly secreted an oily substance before withering. This reaction reminded him of kids who toyed with the slugs back at his village, but his teacher taught him the value of this reaction. Once the last of the slugs had turned to mush an oily gray paste was left that pooled and slowly bubbled. Carefully Ethan poured the substance into the two vials of the moss then capped it quickly. A dark fume of purple and silver covered the glass which Ethan simply smiled to the color. Shaking the vials in the sun the purple and silver started to pigment before turning a light brown. Ensuring the seals Ethan tied down the vials into his satchel letting them work their magic. On the parchment Ethan had wrote the time of the color change and counted with his fingers before righting a time down. The vials though easily made would take several days to mature before their golden hue was revealed. This was the part that worried Ethan, sure he could make as much as they wanted but time was the one thing beyond their control. Would the armies show up before it was ready...he could only pray their luck would hold out.


The cocky voice of Cyril echoed in his head as he finished cleaning up his tools and his hands. Ethan's frustration reminded him of an important issue he had yet to converse. How did a prince know of the potions effect to the shadow warriors and more importantly why was this not utilized in the war. Thoughts of his family's village and the lives that could have been spared rushed his mind. Try as he could though Ethan could not calm his anger and taxing patience. Suddenly the wisp flew in front of him as it pulsed. Ethan was shocked to see a reaction from something he thought he had control of. The wisp continued to pulse but it seemed to feel like it was looking at him sternly. After awhile he regained its control and for whatever reason that it had happen it at least distracted Ethan enough to put his stress behind him as his stomach began to follow with a rumble. Laughing a bit Ethan gathered his things to set out.


The questions he had for the would be prince and the outcome of this journey would have to be put on hold as Ethan felt it best now to resolve himself to doing what he could for now. Besides no alchemist can think properly without a meal. With a long breath and a pat of his cheeks to return his smile Ethan made his trek back to the camp in hopes that the food was prepared.

 

[Shura]

"Hopefully we wont be taking on any more armys any time soon." Rusar muttered before looking over to Warren the last of her catch set to cook. The ones she had set to cook first were already showing signs of being cooked well. She took out the left over meat from the night before and set it on smooth stone by the fire to heat before sitting back and waiting for the food to cook. She started to carve bits of bone and rock into small sharp arrow heads to be replaced the ones broken in battle. It felt odd to be able to relax after such a series of intense battles, she found it a little unnerving like something was going to jump out at any moments. Even with the break threw against the shadow warriors they were still difficult opponents.


The battle alone had shown her she couldn't only rely on her arrows and explosions to fight for much longer. They worked for her up to now but she had to start drawing on her other tricks and uses for her magic. She used to practice every day while in the academy but when she went to the plateau she used her fire magic less. Even though she didn't want to she would inevitably need to use her dark magic as well, she just needed to make sure no one saw her use it.

 

[SkyGinge]

"No need to thank me," Cyril smirked, weary eyes glancing restlessly over to some of the other survivors. "I'd rather use my ability on someone who hasn't got the memory of a mayfly." He nodded over to Warren and tutted to himself. "Honestly, the daft chap saw me create a massive shield ball of light for goodness sake! How he didn't draw the connection to healing is beyond me." He sighed in exasperation. Her second question made her frown a little as it seemed more people had forgotten him. Fairs fair, he hadn't been much of a public prince, but he was still a relative celebrity and the fact that nobody bar the ginger fellow has even vaguely recollected him made him a trifle frustrated. Still, he told himself, we are entering a new age. An age where apparently people can disrespect royalty. I should at least make an effort to adapt to it since these stubborn mules show no signs of conceding.





"I'm Cyril," he stated, before pressing on a little patronisingly, "son of the late king Lyram. Forgive me, but I've already forgotten your name. You are?"


///////////////


Words he thought has come to quick flooded against him, and Skyre wished he had just been left alone to think. She spoke with such truth and honesty that he immediately felt guilty again for not being so open to her. Yet despite all of the odds, what she said made perfect sense to him. After all, in his pessimism he had hardly expected her to like him back, especially given how short they had known each other for. His heart continued to pump at speed, but some kind of relief washed over him. Had he been in a different frame of mid, he may have grasped at the positives of what she had said, but as his heart tore itself to a thousand pieces trying to find the perfect response, he forced himself to focus.


All too soon. All far too soon.





He blinked twice, face blank but eyes quivering a little with powerful emotion. Well, best to return integrity with integrity. "That's fine," he eventually breathed, looking down before rapidly continuing. "Well, not really." He tilted his head up and looked into her undeniably beautiful eyes with a slightly pained expression. "I mean, it hurts a little, obviously, and that's no fault of your own. But you've given me a lot of good things there and I appreciate your honesty." His spare hand came to rest upon hers. "I completely empathise with your situation and don't feel anything against you for not returning... well, you know... yet." He turned away a little sadly, before turning back with burning eyes. "And if a friend is what you need I can be very happy to provide." He smiled a little more securely.


She had been truly honest with him, hadn't felt the need to fake emotion to comfort him back, and in his eyes had acted fully righteously and honourably, and that made her even better on his eyes. She had practically said that she would love him in time, and that was understandable and actually a very good thing. Yet he couldn't shake the mysterious cloudy feeling from his mind, and his leg twitched slightly as his mind continued to scream at him to get up and run.

 

[Kharmin]

Desiree visibly relaxed with relief at Skyre's understanding. She had been so tense in her posture, so afraid of alienating herself from him that she almost dared not breathe for fear of destroying the delicate balance of their relationship.


She saw the hurt in his eyes and it pained her to know that she had caused it. Silently, she vowed to someday make this all up to him – someday when things were ... well, not as they were now.


She smiled as she released his hand and hugged him. Her embrace was soft and welcoming, not fierce or overpowering. She raked a gentle hand through the hair on the back of his head and sighed into his ear, "Thank you, Skyre. You don't know how much this all means to me."


Desiree released her hold, but then took his face in her tender, warm hands. She slightly tilted his head down as she planted an affectionate, lingering kiss on his forehead. She moved back, placed her hands on her knees and locked his eyes with her own as she stated with all sincerity, "I will always be honest with you. You deserve no less than that from me. Also trust me when I say that I will never take advantage of your feelings for me. I respect you, Skyre, not only as our leader but as someone who has shown an honorable and gentle spirit to me when I've been at my lowest. I fear that I will never be able to repay your kindness."


Desiree placed a hand on his. "Stay sweet," she said, "and one day, when I've had time to deal with my demons .... " She left the thought unsaid and trusted that her eyes relayed to him her hope for the future.

 

[SkyGinge]

Skyre took her appreciation with a distant smile as her returned her embrace. It was as thrilling an experience as always, but after what she had said he felt it was a little more meaningless than before. Rubbish. You're doing your best to serve her as a friend now, Skyre, because that's what's best for her right now. With that in mind, he strengthened his hold and swayed gently for a moment, squeezing her once before she pulled away. He had to admit being on such clear and open terms with her, whatever the circumstances, was an absolutely amazing feeling, and he felt strenght surge through him once more like a foglight to his cloudy thoughts, and an infectious smile spread onto his features.


Being suddenly at the recieving end of a consistant stream of Desiree's affections was a little too much for him, though in a positive way; he knew his cheeks were now a very deep crimson colour, and that his grin now reached from ear to ear. She's reading my mind now, he cursed jovially as she explained herself. "I don't know what to say," he admitted with a quiet chuckle. "But certainly, you've given me just as much as I've given you. Just being yourself is repayment enough for any kindness I give, but you deserve it, so don't feel like you have to pay me back." He flicked an eyebrow up lightheartedly as he grew in confidence for a joke. "Though of course, kisses are always greatly appreciated..."

 

[Cookie]

Ari looked at her wrists to hide expression again, but this time it wasn't a smile. No wonder he looked familiar. Cyril, the king's brat. She finally met a master healer and it had to be him. Of all people! And Ari had certainly lived in Aliak long enough to have seen him a few times, during public ceremonies and such. How could she have forgotten that snide face? Of course, she hadn't been to the capital for a long while, not since transferring universities. And Cyril probably didn't mingle with commoners, especially not of Ari's social status.


But there it was again, the prince proved himself to be unchanged since the fall. Clearly, Ari's was not an important enough name to remember within a few seconds of conversation.


"Ari. My name is Ari. I trust you'll remember it now that I've said it three times?" Ari looked at Cyril with no emotion, fully aware of her rudeness but only partially regretting her words. Perhaps, had he been anyone else, she wouldn't have taken as much offense to a harmless slip of the mind. But the prince had it coming, he had to know that at least. And if he still expected to be pampered by the lot of them...


Ari looked towards the fire with her better judgement, intending to leave before she said anything else disrespectful. "Well, I believe we're going to need a few more fish to put on the fire soon. If you'll excuse me..." Ari stood, stopping herself from adding a sarcastic 'your highness' to her comment. She smiled politely at Cyril as she headed for the river, but it was an empty smile.

 

[Kharmin]

Desiree smiled with sincerity that echoed in her blue eyes. "I can only be myself, fly-boy," she jested at Skyre. "I don't always understand it either, but I think my ... connection ... to the air has a lot to do with it. However, for you," she stood and gave him a playful curtsey, "I will endeavor to be the more likable Desiree if that is satisfactory?"


She giggled in spite of herself as her eyes danced over his. At the mention of her kisses, a very light pink touched across her cheeks. Desiree laughed with a pureness of heart, betrayed only by the wicked smile that played briefly across her lips. "Indeed?" she said with a mischievous look. "Be careful what you wish for...."

 

[SkyGinge]

"Yes, sorry, things like names slip my mind from time to time," the prince admitted earnestly. Though admittedly he did have quite the excuse to not be fully concentrating; the concequences of Gregor's death were still flashing through his mind. He couldn't help but notice how quickly her body language changed, and that had offended him a little. He'd just tried, perhaps for the first time, not to appear snobbish and self-important, and she immediately judges him! Were it not for that, he would have been neutral with her, but as she found a very blatent excuse to get away, he decided he'd had enough of all the negativity against him.


"I hear they taste splendid, those invisible fish," he jibed at her, noting that Rusar had already put all the fish on the fire and misunderstanding her comment a little. If they won't respect me even when I try humility, then I jolly well hope they have a good sense of humour.


////////////////////////


"Much satisfactory, ma'am, though one can be whatever Desiree she desire's," he returned her joke in a mock snobbish tone, and found himself laughing along with her. He pulled a comedically fearful face at the end of her comment. "I worry now for what that might mean," he chuckled, "though of course I'm certainly willing to find out." He winked at her and continued to laugh, his laugh polite and quiet even though he may well have been in riproaring hysterics.


When eventually he stopped, he turned back to the hilltop camp, wondering if anybody had seen their affectionate exchange. They wouldn't have had to look far, Skyre frowned, We were pretty much out in the open this time. Then an ironic grin. Just like our feelings. Open fields to open the heart. How senselessly poetic. Finding himself with a strange new self-confidence, he found himself reach for her hand. "Well, we ought to be getting back to camp unless you want to hang around here and talk a little longer." Curling his small fingers around hers, he suddenly retreated. "Am I allowed to do that now?" he asked a little light-heartedly, "With us being friends and that?" Of course, for all the hints at blossoming feelings she had made, they now ran the risk of not being able to continue certain romantic actions, Skyre thought. Mere friends didn't normally kiss and make contact as much as they did now. But Skyre was willing to sacrifice that, at least for a while, for Desiree's sake. And besides, it fitted well with the internal cloudiness which whilst now shroaded, had still not completely defogged...