Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
64
Renown
Male
Dark Elf
"It, uhm, it was an accident, I promise!"
35 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Xhavian Navarre on Jan 4, 2023 19:20:20 GMT -5
He didn't really feel the cold. Not really. He could tell when it was cold. Snow on the ground. Ice that crawled across the water until it became completely solid. Wind that was cutting in the way it stung against the skin. His fingers would go numb like others' said theirs did, his cheeks would turn rosey, and when his hood wasn't pulled up, he sometimes lost sensation on the tips of his pointed ears... but he wasn't cold. It wasn't a chill that settled on his spine and would cause him to shiver. It was just... there? It affected him, but also didn't. In a sense.
Strange, he could hear in a cacophony of voices that whispered around him or spoke it to him as if it wasn't hurtful. It was like odd, like different. Tightening around his chest because it all meant lonely to him. People didn't like the things that they didn't understand. They didn't treat them with kindness. They tried to be polite sometimes, but it was only ever on the surface. It never reached their eyes, and it never chased away the quiet of being alone when they hurried on their way or hurried him on his.
It was useful, though, this form of oddness. It meant that he could take the road from the Pale City to Coldwood much easier than Ardreth could. Cloak and coat pulled around him. Boots laced tightly. A satchel with various containers for whatever he could find—some stressed as more important than the others on his list. He could walk without feeling bothered but was bundled up with care because he knew better all the same.
But when he was outside the city limits, when he was amidst the frozen landscape, Xhavian was... normal. Or close enough to it. He was still alone, still on his own, but the creatures didn't stare at him. The glow of his hair didn't have them glancing over at him as he passed them by on the streets. Birdsong wasn't filled with words they thought he couldn't hear, and when he looked their way, when nebulous eyes found a few of the critters that watched him for a moment to determine friend or foe, he didn't feel like a freak.
Xhavian didn't belong, of course. He wasn't a fennec that darted across the rocks and under bushes or a bird that flitted about branches, but he was unusual and didn't belong in a way that would be the same as any elf or human or dwarf that entered the forest. Everyone was strange here, and that meant that, for once, he was the same as them, too. Even as he bled moonlight from opened scars across his face and his freckles were pinpricks of starlight along the tops of his ears.
No one could see it out here, though. No one could gawk. It was just him, just the breeze that kicked up a few snowflakes and tugged at strands of illuminated hair as he trekked through the snow searching for various herbs that he had been sent for. It was just him, and rather than feeling small in a city that was too big and too crowded, he was in a place where he felt the tranquility of being a spec in the endless expanse, his gaze drifting to all that was around him, seen between the trunks of trees as he simply... memorized it, wondering, perhaps in vain, if speaking to the darkness that blanketed him in prayer about what he saw might finally be what was needed for it to speak back to him.
...maybe he would try tomorrow? For now, he needed to—gods, he needed to get back to it, didn't he? He'd been standing here an awfully long time? He... well, he couldn't really tell. Time was always difficult and finicky in the way it was sometimes quick or slow. It could have only been a couple of seconds or even a few minutes, but it also could have been an hour if he was... careless and forgot to pay mind to its passage.
Fortunately, he had already found a patch of blooms old enough to be distilled once he returned, so even if it had been too long, he wouldn't be returning empty-handed if the day started to wane. Still... he should probably try to find a few more things, and in the next clearing, he was rewarded with a few more plants whose leaves were quite useful when dried.
|
|
Noble
IS OFFLINE
25
Renown
Moonglade
1,504 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Jan 5, 2023 4:58:58 GMT -5
Frost Gale hated her, she could tell. She stole Mayhem from it, killed the storm and now she came back for... herbs? Last time she had been there, it was with Astrid on what she had hoped to be a gentle strol through the icy fields... and it quickly developed into a dragon slaying adventure to protect a few lost merchants. She could only imagine what fate had reserved for her now...
"Will you let me sleep now, woman?"
From all the mishaps that Fate had planned for her, this was one she couldn't have guessed would happen in a million years - and, as a welcome change, for once fate surprised her with a good thing. Even with the diminished light in the cave, his obsidian scales glistened like thousands of polished black mirrors. Red luminescent eyes stared back at her, and while she had initially staggered back the first time she gazed upon the drake, her heart had found a place for him quickly. As she had previously noted, she did have a special place in her heart for beasts and monsters. Some part of her wanted to believe the reverse was also true, and that the drake also had his heart softened by her mortal affairs - for what other reason would he had agreed to accompany her in her jorney? Certainly he had spent way too much time taking care of his brothers and sisters, and now it was time for him to venture off again in the world. Which reminded her...
"How is it that you will see the world if you keep on sleeping like this?"
The drake let out a grunt, a puff of blackened smoke leaving his nostrils as he lightly dug the ground of the cave for a more comfortable sleeping spot. The spikes that covered his spine were neatly irregular, finishing in a long tail covered in smaller, spiky scales.
"I saw this land from afar, when we were in the sky. When you see from far away, you see more."
"But you may not see every detail there is to see from that distance."
"The small things don't matter to me, woman. Now let me sleep..."
Kamille shrugged, releasing Mischief that had been hiding in her cloak. The raven was the one suffering the most with the addition of the drake to the family. The only two braincells the bird have, while usually disagreeing on most things, certainly agreed on this subject: no anger the big bird. Big bird strong. Big bird can eat you. And so he swallowed his jealousy and tucked under Kamille's cloak once again, as she left the cave and went to venture in the cold desolation that was Frost Gale.
The icy winds bit at her mana reserve, even if it wasn't enough to make her shiver. Since she found Mayhem, on that very snowy hills, she felt the presence of a fiery core burning inside of her chest, making itself particularly noticeable in cold places like that.
Against the ivory blanket of snow, the Frost Gale had made her the kindness of setting her apart from anything, an easy target made of her dark cloak against the white field of snow. The Witch pulled out the raven from inside her cloak, and Mischief fluffed up his black feathers in excitement - he was eager to show himself useful, the jealous little thing, and she would certainly make use of his disposition, as he normally wouldn't take an interest in finding herbs.
"Mischief, do you remember the ivory orchids we were looking for the last time? Can you find them for me?"
"CAWWW! Pretty flower! CAWW!"
Mischief made his little dance, and without any more words, took flight.
Ebony wings against the white field, Mischief was as much a stranger to the Frost Gale as herself, his croaks echoing louder than usual as he disrupted the peace of the few creatures that lived there, bullying them out of their hideout. It made it an easy task to follow the raven, even if he was far, far away from her spot, so she had no hurry in catching up to him. And while his little beetle eyes did find the pretty flower he set out to find, he also realized.... there was someone stealing it! As much as someone could steal something that wasn't his, but still......
Mischief landed right beside the person, in a bouncing branch, angrily cawing at him.
"CAWWW! Stop! Stop! Hello!"
|
|
Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
64
Renown
Male
Dark Elf
"It, uhm, it was an accident, I promise!"
35 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Xhavian Navarre on Jan 5, 2023 17:01:57 GMT -5
A gentle bit of melody drifted pleasantly around Xhavian as he began harvesting various parts of the orchids in bloom. A songless tune. A breath of music without words or instruments hummed quietly to keep his thoughts company as they began to drift.
Gloves pulled off, fingertips traced along leaves and petals, testing the stems, he recalled how his mother had always loved this color. Pieces plucked of those that were mature, while those that were too young were passed over, he could all but see her in the scarf he had made for her in hues like this one. As the lid of the container was removed, he hoped she had it still, that maybe it sometimes reminded her of him... wherever she might be. And with what he had harvested so far placed inside, he tried to ignore the way his chest felt empty—emptier than it always did with the glimmering void of his soul—with where his thoughts had drifted this time.
He would pray for her. His mother. Tonight. He would pray for her safety, her well-being, and her return. As he had done every night since she left. But he would also pray that she was thinking of him, that her thoughts and maybe her prayers were also of him, too. If only so that the world wouldn't feel so overwhelmingly vacant when he had naught but his work in the apothecary, the books in the library, and his meditation to try and find an end to the days where there wasn't a knock on the door of their family home.
The melody faded, the sound growing somber until it grew to silence. Xhavian found himself staring at his hands, his fingers curled around one of the orchid blooms. He had enough that he didn't need to pluck it, but there was a part of him, a small part that also spoke out about taking too much, that wanted to take it home and put it in a vase. A bit of warmth and color in a place that felt like it was devoid of it... even when he was inside.
It would die needlessly, though, the other part of him whispered, the one that always spoke to simply watching. And waiting. The world would move with or without him, and perhaps, it would move on better without him there, without him interfering and interacting.
A voice that was his and wasn't. The one that made it hard for him to feel like he was himself.
Pulling his hand back, Xhavian wiped both on his trousers before he started to stand. He had taken enough from this small clearing, and there were a few others that he still needed to find. As he did so, however, there was a sudden commotion. A shock of sound and movement that startled him terribly.
"-ah!" came his own cry as he took a step back, the sound of cloth ripping accompanying the cawing of a raven. Tripping over his now torn cloak as he tried to back off in his panic, Xhavian fell into the cold snow, and—
Vibrant color unlike those he had ever seen washed over his vision and spread outwards. Shimmering and glowing as he did. Ethereal and beautiful as it expanded like a wave upon the still surface of the ocean. It cut through the darkness of nothingness. Blossoming in cataclysmic ripples as it left him. As it was a part of him. His strength. His power. His—[1]
Fallen in the snow, Xhavian saw everything around him was now coated in a thin shroud of energy, glowing with a light, not unlike the way his own hair shone and what bled from the scars upon his face. From orchids to the untouched snow to the raven that had surprised him, everything shimmered nearby. Even a few trunks of the trees were now alight with an aura of illumination that he... didn't understand.
A look of surprise clear on his face, a soft, "...what?" slipped past parted lips.
He had done this, he knew. But he had never done anything like it before, and he didn't know how... and he feared... he feared what else might happen now. He feared what else might happen if he lost control again.
[1] Spell Used - Illuminated Aura
|
|
Noble
IS OFFLINE
25
Renown
Moonglade
1,504 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Jan 7, 2023 11:52:10 GMT -5
The surge of power was certainly something that Mischief couldn't understand, but even from afar, the Witch suddenly stopped on her tracks and perked up. In a wave of reality bending power, she felt the magic rippling the air around her softly, stretching and twisting the threads that accounted for the tapestry of that plane. It was a sudden surge, but as fast as it happened, soon the reality twisted back into its original shape, leaving only the soft ripples of a disrupted lake, quickly vanishing again.
"CAAWWWWWWWW! CAWWW! CAW CAW CAW CAW!!!"
Cutting through the silence, Mischief squeaked in despair. As unheard of as it was, words escaped the bird, that turned to its screeching caws to express his surprise. As the colors that burst out from the man hit the raven, Mischief quickly took flight again, clearly frightened, with a thin layer of his residual magic upon his glossy black tail feathers. When he found Kamille once again, he quickly dove to land on her shoulder, taking a hiding place in the hood of her cloak.
"What is it, Mischief? What happened?"
It wasn't fear that first gripped her, but rather curiosity. Fear would be always secondary to her eagerness to learn and see things she hadn't seen or learned before, and as far as she could feel so far, whatever happened, didn't look dangerous. With Mischief refusing to speak, neatly hidden in her hood, Kamille rushed to the place he came from between the woods, hoping to see whatever had scared the raven...
...And when she arrived, she stopped on her tracks once again, this time with her mouth opened completely in awe. Her eyes saw it as a colored, transluscent coat of diamond dust, reflecting every color possible from different angles, depending on how she looked at it. And it seemed like the whole clearing was covered in that - that residual magic, giving everything nearby that sheer coat of magic glitter.
It was beautiful.
Almost as much as the person standing - or rather fallen on the snow - in the middle of the clearing. He clearly was the source of that light, since that glowing light was still spiling from his hair and scars. It occurred to her that her sudden burst through the trees might've scared him even more.
"Did something happen? Are you okay? What happened here? Did you make this?"
Not that shooting the stranger down with questions seemed like the way to put someone at ease, but there seemed to be genuine worry for him in her voice. She took a moment to look around, likely to check if there wasn't any other visible threats around that might have caused him to react that way. It didn't occur to her, at that moment, that it was Mischief himself that had scared him. She took a few steps closer, her hands raised, as if to try and show she had no bad intentions.
"Are you alright? Do you want some help?"
The starry-eyed woman offered a hand to pull him up.
|
|
Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
64
Renown
Male
Dark Elf
"It, uhm, it was an accident, I promise!"
35 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Xhavian Navarre on Jan 9, 2023 0:49:30 GMT -5
His heart hammered in his chest. Every beat causing it to tighten further. Pressure upon pressure that built and built with every breath he tried to draw. Shallow, quick, dizzying as he struggled to fight down the panic that was welling as he lay there in the snow.
He did this. He did this, and he hadn't meant to, but he had, and now everything was glowing as he did. Shimmering, glinting. A chaotic swirl of beautiful color that drifted on some current of movement that didn't belong, that wasn't there. But it shifted and swirled and hung about everything around him. And he was certain that raven had talked, but it was gone now, and it was just him—
It was just him.
He was alone again. Amidst the snow, the cold that was there but distant. No one was hurt. Nothing was harmed. It was just him, and he needed to breathe. He needed to breathe. He couldn't panic. He couldn't lose himself further. It'd only make things worse. Frayed strings and shattered pieces of control breaking and thinning further with every raucous beat of his heart and ragged gasp that refused to fill his lungs.
"...breathe," he begged himself, forcing his eyes shut against the glow he had created, that settled and caressed all. "Breathe," he said much smaller, his hand, wet with snow, coming up to his chest where he tried to massage the area just above his heart, willing it to slow. "Breathe... deeply," he forced out, releasing the breaths that had refused to escape before.
'Breathe,' came a single thought, the word tied to the memory of it being said in his mother's voice one of many, many times. Times when gentle hands pulled his hands away from where he had gripped his skull and pulled at his hair the first time he had blinked and found himself somewhere else. Times when soft spoken words, reassurances, and love were given as he was reminded that he was alright, that all was well, that he was still him and he hadn't hurt anyone or anything.
'What's broken can always be mended,' she would tell him during the moments when it was an accident. As it always was. But she had been there, she had been able to draw him back, to make the world small instead of big... and now, she wasn't. Xhavian was alone.
Only he wasn't.
Cosmic eyes snapped open when he heard a sudden noise nearby, and what peace he had managed to trick himself into with his mind drifting to the times his mother had helped and he had been able to still... everything shattered quite suddenly. With that sudden surge of anxiety, flight instead of fight causing adrenaline to run through him like electricity. Gaze darting, he saw that there was a woman, that she was standing there for a moment before she approached, and that was asking him questions.
"It was an accident," Xhavian said at first, the reaction immediate. Practiced. Used often... much like apologies for those who were always blamed for the things that weren't their fault. "I was just—there was a raven. It appeared. I think... I think it talked, too, but ravens... they don't talk, but it—it startled me, and I fell, and then..." his words trailed off, and nebulous eyes once more drifted to the way everything was bathed in a cacophony of ethereal color around them.
"I didn't mean to," he said, his attention moving back to her as he shook his head. "Promise. I just... it was an accident, and I—"
Xhavian blinked. His mind catching up to all that had been said, he realized that the woman had asked after him, too. Saw the hand offered. There was kindness there. And an offer to help. But he was... terrified. Of himself.
Releasing a breath, he ducked his head, a splash of rosy color painting itself across his cheeks, making the starlight freckles much more prominent. "I'm alright," he said quietly. "And thank you, but I... I don't want to hurt you on accident, too..."
|
|
Noble
IS OFFLINE
25
Renown
Moonglade
1,504 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Jan 9, 2023 11:40:56 GMT -5
Understanding escaped her for a moment, as her eyes searched for the source of this person's distress. Initially she had thought that maybe it was a reaction to some kind of threat, but if that was the case there would be other signs, markings and footsteps on the snow. He mentioned the raven, and for a moment it clicked: Mischief probably scared the poor guy, as she knew he was well capable of. A tightening inside her chest made her realize it was the man who was apologizing for her familiar's mischievousness. This was not right.
Slowly, as if to not scare him any further, the woman knelt down before him. From inside her hood, said raven peaked out to see what was happening. He was still covered in that multicolored dust or residue of the arcane, but other than that, didn’t look hurt.
"It's okay, it's okay.... It was an accident, don’t worry...."
Was this all because he got scared by Mischief? Kamille was a tad confused, as she would think such reaction was fairly on par with what she herself would do. Except the clearing would probably be covered in flames. She extended her hand towards him again, trying to sound reassuring as much as her claws would allow her to. At least her eyes were true to her intentions and, unless he was mistaken, a gentle warmth accompanied her.
"Did he scare you? It's alright, he can be like that sometimes, but he is sorry for tha-"
"CAWW! Not sorry!"
Mischief cawed and hid inside her hood once again. Kamille turned her eyes to her surroundings for a moment, still in awe at the beautiful shimmer that covered the clearing - she couldn’t record a time she'd seen such effect, despite her experience. But her attention took a sharp turn towards him as he expressed being... afraid. There was this tightening in her chest again, and she realized that if she had it her way, her will was to bring this person into a hug to shield them from their own fears. And that was because she didn’t know a thing about them, not even their name - only that they got scared by their mischievous raven.
"It's okay... You can't hurt me, trust me... it's alright.... Is this the first time you perform any kind of magic? This is beautiful... There's no reason to be afraid, you can relax now..."
While she had just laid eyes on him for the first time, she found it hard this must be the first surge of magic he might've experienced in his life. His whole person seemed to exuded this arcane aura that spilled out in this beautiful glow, and while she couldn’t help but stare for a moment, she tried her best not to feel so unsettling.
"As a matter of fact, ravens do talk, but one often only learns that when there is one parroting some nonsense back at you. This is Mischief, and he is my familiar. I'm Kamille. Are you hurt?"
Only then the real questions started to pour, so worried as she was to calm him down. What would a person be doing in a place like that, all alone? Certainly there were reasons good enough, as she could atest for herself, out there on her own to collect herbs and plants. But at this time, she couldn’t even imagine he might be there for the exact same reason and the exact same plant as herself.
|
|
Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
64
Renown
Male
Dark Elf
"It, uhm, it was an accident, I promise!"
35 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Xhavian Navarre on Jan 16, 2023 17:26:10 GMT -5
If he hadn't been tangled in his own cloak, the torn portion of it wrapped around his ankle while the rest was trapped underneath him, Xhavian would have done the woman before him the basic courtesy of trying to inch himself further away when she knelt in front of him. For her safety. To make sure that... something else didn't happen.
He could still feel it, after all. There. A hum in the back of his mind. Energy that ran like electricity across his skin. An amassing sensation of everything building up all at once. Power and... and essence. Something that felt like pure existence. It rose to the surface, clawed against the barrier that he, himself, was, and when it had nowhere else to go, when he wouldn't let it escape or shift, bend or create, ravage or solidify, it became pain. A hiss of discomfort escaping him as a new scar tore itself along the side of his neck.
Xhavian hurriedly pressed his sleeve to where he felt his skin split open. Cloth stained with still glowing blood, rivulets of starlight, before it cooled and dulled to a normal red. Always. Always when he tried to stop it. When he tried to contain it.
Nebulous eyes shifted between the woman and the bird. She offered him her hand, and the raven... spoke again. The kindness that he saw and heard from before was there, even in the face of him. Genuine in the way her expression was soft and her words gentle. But he was still bleeding, drops of formless energy that bound this world to all others in the vast sea of possibility. He was still bleeding, and he could feel more power threatening to tear at him further as easily as he could still see the shroud of shimmering colors that reflected within themselves endlessly upon the snowy landscape.
"N-not scared, exactly," he managed. Shaky. Nervous. Trying to push past it all. "I was just... listening as I gathered a few of the blooms. Distracted with my, uhm, thoughts." He ducked his head, continuing to apply pressure to his neck. "It—or he startled me, and my cloak got underfoot as I tried to back a-away from him. And then this... happened. When I fell."
He didn't need to motion to the area around him to indicate what had happened. Her gaze strayed to it as his did, too, but the way she looked at the glimmering air around them was different from his own. There wasn't fear or mistrust. She wasn't waiting for the air to suddenly crack open within the glowing aura that settled around them as something worse came from it as he so greatly feared might.
Worrying his lip, Xhavian tried desperately to get his breathing to be deeper. It would help if he could. Help him find that control. Help him stave off the way panic and anxiety wrapped themselves around his heart and set it to beat chaotically within his chest.
"I... no, it's—I've never... I've never done this, but I... I've used m-magic before. I can... there are other things that I h-have done... almost always by accident, but it's..." Xhavian shook his head, the breath he released ragged as he let his hand fall away, the scar no longer bleeding and now a mark he would always bear. Luminous.
"...this is new," he added, his voice so much smaller.
'Beautiful,' the woman called it—Kamille as he would come to learn her name in the next few moments. The shimmer. The glow. The blanket of cosmic colors that covered everything in a drifting luminosity that didn't belong. If he knew what it was, he might have thought the same... and had it come from anyone other than him.
But he didn't know. And it was from him. Unbidden. That alone was reason enough for him to remain on edge. Just in case.
"Xhavian," he managed. "My name is Xhavian. And I'm not hurt—" he paused, his neck still stinging a little from the new scar his hand straying up to tug his collar in an attempt to conceal it, "—not really, at least. The... the scar, I guess you would call it, is a n-normal thing that... sometimes happens. After." He tried not to avert his gaze and mostly succeeded. "But it is... nice to meet you, Kamille? And sorry, Mischief for startling you, too, I think. I..."
It was something that he felt. A shift. A change. The barriers that had slipped open to let the light out, to send it outwards from him moved again. Threads pulling apart, others twining together. What magic he had cast, the light created by his power, his strength, his lack of control ebbed. The flow receeding. Dimming and dulling. Ending.
"Oh, praise Ziev, it's fading," he released as an exhale of bated breath, that relentless thread of tension finally cut as relief washed over him.
|
|
Noble
IS OFFLINE
25
Renown
Moonglade
1,504 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Jan 23, 2023 7:03:10 GMT -5
It pained her that he was so distressed about doing something so beautiful, but as he spoke and apologized over his "mistake", the gears started to turn. Arcane particles of twirling and sparkling dust seemed to force their way out of him, despite of his will. He was raw, unbidden arcane potential, The Magician without its characteristic confidance and focus. A speckle of arcane power dancing in the wind, at the mercy of the whims and wishes of forces beyond their understanding.
Xhavian was ethereal and dreamy and seemed lost in his own mind and fears. It would do him some good some anchoring, some grounding; and the matters of the earth and stone, she could understand.
Starry eyes squinted at the wound that appeared at his neck, and she sprung into action immediately. For a second she turned to her own satchel, only to bring out what looked like a piece of gauze with which she approached him again.
"Let me see it."
Felt more like an order, rather than a question; though it was clear it came out of concern, there was no wriggle room for him. There was a slight change in demeanor, her voice resounding more firm, her hands reaching out with less hesitation - all prompted by the realization he was actually hurt. And while the magical nature of such wound was not lost on her - neither the fact his blood seemed to run in pure, arcane residue - there was something to say about how unshakable she could sound. Stable. Rooted. Of the earth.
A slight, curious expression took her half-elven features when she came to realise his wound quickly became a scar of sorts, in the blink of an eye. Though she was certain she could expect everything from all things arcane, that was the first time she witnessed such thing happen.
With the realization he was hurt, some of his words were almost lost on her as she neared him in hopes of taking care of his wound. But still it didn't escape her that he had a reason for being in that clearing - and that, much to her surprise, it looked like it was very similar to her own reason of being out there alone.
"You were gathering blooms out there? Are you a botanist or alchemist? I happen to be an alchemist, and I came here in search of Ivory Orchids.... Would you possibly know where I could find it?"
As the tension abandoned him in a deep breath, Kamille looked around to notice that the residue of his magic was finally fading away. It remained for quite a while for a mistake, as he claimed. This person will end up hurting himself if he doesn't learn how to control his magic... Was the thought that came to her, even if she wouldn't voice that kind of concern just yet. Once again, she felt that what he needed was an anchor of sorts, and it stabilize him enough to fully enjoy his own potential.
For the moment, it would be better to bring his attention away from it.
"You see, sometimes I send out Mischief to find the flowers for me. He can fly, so he can find them much quicker than my feet would allow. But he only finds it if he wants, which.... is not always. Would you help me find the Ivory Orchid?"
|
|
Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
64
Renown
Male
Dark Elf
"It, uhm, it was an accident, I promise!"
35 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Xhavian Navarre on Jan 27, 2023 15:27:54 GMT -5
Xhavian had shrunk back from the woman when she insisted on seeing what was wrong. Timid and hesitant, a bit wide-eyed as he was still torn apart and raw from his magic and his fear of it. He didn't want to hurt her... just as he didn't want to be hurt himself. Memories—such twisted and vengeful things at times—reminding him of the way people reacted to him. Shocked and curious. Surprised by how he looked. Frightened and untrusting because they didn't know. Distant as they created that distance...
Violently.
Not that he thought Kamille would do anything to hurt him for what—for whatever he was. She seemed kind and good. Concerned. Patient for him, too, as he was... the way he was. Panicked. Fearful. Stammering through his words much the same as he had tripped over his own cloak But the other children hadn't seemed the type to throw stones at him either when he was younger. For being strange. For being different. For bleeding starlight.
"N-no, no. It's—thank you, but I'm... this, this is normal," he offered. Trying to reassure. Trying to create that distance. To be safe, not rude. He hoped she understood. "It... happens, but it's alright. I-I'm alright. Promise."
It was something he would go on to repeat when he shared with her his name. Reassurance given again. As many times as it took to ease the worry...and because it was easier than trying to explain it all. Especially when he didn't have any answers for the questions that would follow. His mother had never returned with them.
"I was... gathering a few things, yeah," Xhavian answered. A little easier. A little less breathless. "I, uhm, I work at an apothecary. Or for an apothecary, I suppose." He tried to chuckle, the sound of laughter a whisper but it was tainted by that nervousness that still gripped him and had him glancing towards the ethereal miasma he had created, "I'm never quite sure what's the proper way to say that. The word's the same, but different depending on how you use it, you know?"
He was rambling. He did that a lot, and it was always worse when his emotions were getting the better of him. When he wasn't quite as in control. A soft, "S-sorry," as he ducked his head a little before getting back on track. "But, uhm, Ivory Orchids. Right. Those are... well, not here, but they're close-ish. I was actually gathering a... a relative, I guess, of them nearby. They look similar but have a stronger scent..."
Anything more he might have said was waylaid for a moment when the shimmering aura dissipated. Drifting and growing distant, vibrancy lost until only his remained. In strands of starlight. In cosmic eyes. In the spaces in between that drifted around them as if he were a rift himself into what lay unseen and distant.
As Kamille felt herself. A little bit. Had Xhavian not been victim to the chaos of his own self, he might have noticed it then and taken comfort in it. Even if it was a different sort of strangeness from his own.
The fading of the light, of the light he had created didn't mean that he was immediately put at ease. He was still tense. Still worried. Threads of concern not unlike those that bound him to his own power, his own being that ever-extended instead of fraying. But it was at war with his nature. Ever one to help if he could, and while not on his list, a few spare blooms of Ivory Orchid wouldn't be put to waste if he brought them back.
"I would be, uhm, happy to help you, though," Xhavian heard himself say. A touch slower of a cadence as he put in an effort to sound fine. To those that knew him, though, there was a noted lack of animation in his voice. "If you... if you don't mind me, of course. I know that, that's sometimes..." he trailed off, not wanting to voice it.
"Just. Let me get untangled here. From my cloak that—" he leaned forward, and his first few attempts to pull his foot free were met with resistance, "—how did it get so wrapped up around my ankle?" asked in a much livelier tone in his disbelief, though there was no mistaking the saddened look that came across his features as he found the tear in it and did what he could to keep it from tearing further.
|
|
Noble
IS OFFLINE
25
Renown
Moonglade
1,504 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Lady Kamille Verlithax on Feb 5, 2023 20:27:03 GMT -5
Kamille knew fear when she saw it. Not only fear, but hurt. Whatever his story was, he was haunted by it, and never got to truly understand what happened when this surges of power got a hold of him.
Have no one ever tried to help him? Have no one ever looked into it to do something about it? I'm sorry, it was an accident was something that came out of his lips with such an ease, so promptly, it mustn't be the first time.... Or the last. Frightened and untrusting. Her heart went out to him, but he was too afraid to even notice it. Better to talk about other things for the moment - he mentioned being an apothecary of sorts, looking for a plant. Kamille smiled at him, giving him a sorta thoughtfull look.
"I guess... Words do matter, you know? Words mold the way we think, and the way we think propel our actions. And, in my opinion, actions are what really matters. Apothecary is both the chemist and the laboratory. And since you work at an apothecary.... would that make you one? You certainly seem to have the knowledge of the herbs...."
Coming from a place that grew starlight on trees and flowers, it was natural for her to be more amazed than afraid at the person before her. Not to mention his apologetic nature stirred something inside her. Nebulous eyes swirled with stars, but projected warmth and a somewhat sad look as he voiced his concern of being unwanted for the task. Kamille had just met this person - this person that bled starlight of all things! - but all she wanted to do now was to comfort him. He felt precious, like the Ivory Orchid she had been searching. Used to loneliness, afraid of the excesses and adapted only to that small piece of world that he knew.
"You seem to know a lot about them... But you don't have to help me if you don't want. I would love to get some help, though. Specially from someone that knows this place. I've never spent so much time in the Frost Gale, you know... If it wasn't for Mischief here, I probably would spend the whole day trying to find this plant without success... I would love if you could help me."
If his nervousness was truly fading or if he was hiding it better it wasn't easy to say. As he started to try to unwrap his foot, Kamille noticed his hands betrayed his estate, and weren't doing him any favors for the time being.
The Witch leaned forward, gently putting her hands on his to avoid him tearing his cloak even further. She proceeded to slowly try to untangle it, taking the utmost care, with the kind of gentle touch and patience you could only see in people used to handling fragile things like books, herbs and potions. For a moment or so she was absorbed by the task, without uttering a word, frowning like she'd been met with a puzzle, and then shinning a childish smile everytime she got the result she wanted. In a matter of moments, her patient hands got the job done, taking a look at the tear on his cloak. She might have needles and thread on her medical kit....
"I'm not the best seamstress in the world, but I might be able to sew this back together if you want."
|
|
Adventurer
IS OFFLINE
64
Renown
Male
Dark Elf
"It, uhm, it was an accident, I promise!"
35 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Xhavian Navarre on Apr 2, 2023 11:48:03 GMT -5
"Me? An apothecary?" it was something Xhavian could hold onto. A thread within a fraying strand. One that he could focus on and maybe even repair with the way he held onto it desperately. "Oh, n-no, I just... I just help as an assistant of sorts. Most of what I know is really only theory." A bit of embarrassment flashed as a gentle rose-colored hue that stained both his cheeks and flickered within the light of his being. There and then gone. "I just do a lot of reading."
It was more than that. Xhavian knew it was. Even as he wasn't lying about most of what he knew being from all the reading he did. The only days he wasn't doing something in the apothecary, however, were the days he had off.
Brewing, distilling, powdering, mixing. Creating tinctures or salves. Harnessing and infusing. He truly did a bit of everything when it came to helping Ardreth out... but he wasn't allowed to say that. It'd be bad for business, after all, and while it helped, it was only the more basic potions that he crafted. Something that only really served to keep the stock up while Ardreth could work on the more complicated things that needed his attention, leaving the rest to Xhavian.
People feared that, though. They feared him. And he couldn't blame them. Not when he did the same.
That was why it was surprising when Kamille offered him a compliment. Or, he thought it was a compliment, at least. It sounded kind and gentle. Not exactly direct by any means, but Xhavian wouldn't have known what to do with it if it was... more. "That's mostly just the reading talking," chuckled as there was that embarrassment again. "I have a knack for remembering the little details that aren't always the most useful. Like how the sap that comes out of the stems of Ivory Orchids can be used for glue... if you don't mind that it dries black," he added, a mix of pride and nervousness over the shared fact he gave as proof, a hint of a smile teasing at his lips.
He could breathe now. He could draw breath without feeling like he was shaking apart. The talking had helped with that. As had Kamille being... accepting, a thing he was not used to. It helped to steady the way his body felt like bottled lightning, one second from shattering the glass and ripping through everything that was around him. Even as it was still there. Flicker and shiver. Held back by something so fragile as himself.
But it was better. Now it was. Especially when he could think, too.
And because getting away from here, this spot where he lost control would be better for him, too, he leaped at the opportunity to help. Albeit, not literally. His foot was still tangled around the ripped cloak, and he was trying not to be upset about it, but in the moments before he was about to make it worse, there were hands on top of his. Forcing him to still himself. Forcing him to look and see—
It was endless. Ebony stretching out without boundary or horizon. A ripple of violet and indigo that shimmered as if it were a steady heartbeat, the seams of color expanding outward in vein-like rivulets. Nothing and everything all at once. Pinpricks of glimmering light, of stars that had him shivering with how immense and numerous they were, spanning a place without end and captured within—[1]
Kamille's gaze. A gaze that was gentle despite the cold of the beyond that was there, one that was akin to his own, nebulous eyes. Where he had always felt that his was one of turmoil, roiling with its vibrancy, Kamille's was peaceful. Where he was frantic, she was stillness.
Where he had failed to untangle himself from his cloak, she navigated it easily. With a smile, even, but his thoughts had been distracted away from her compassion.
"Your eyes," Xhavian breathed, released from that trance, his own magic having washed over him once more and quieting all the loudness that he was. "I feel like I've seen them before." He didn't know where those words came from. He didn't know why there was a familiarity.
Only for it to all be gone with the next blink. A shroud of concealment descending not unlike fog or mist, cutting him off from that sensation, from what felt almost like memory. Yet while that echo of knowing ebbed away, in its place, what Kamille had said was able to rise to the surface as Xhavian glanced from the freed cloak to the current, pleasant company.
The smile he gave her was crooked as he spoke. "Oh, that's very kind of you, but I've had to learn how to sew myself after ripping it quite a few times now," he said, relief and calmness still found even as his magic had also faded. "I somehow always find a way to get twisted up in it. Even when I'm not getting startled by talking birds," he chuckled, only to quickly add— "N-not that I blame you, Mischief," —so as to not offend the feathered creature. Hopefully.
Then, as if he hadn't interrupted himself, Xhavian continued. "But if you'd like, you could pick the color thread I use?" He held out the cloak a bit more, and it was a collage of various scars in various colors, sizes, lengths, and patterns— reminiscent of his own scars—that created patchwork lines across it from all the tears that had been repaired. Each seeming to make a constellation of sorts.
"You could even think on it while I show where the Ivory Orchids should be?" he offered, still very much willing to help her find them.
[1] Calm Emotions - used on self
|
|