MONDAY, AUGUST 16, 2004
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.
Rose Garden
Within this garden must be thousands of rosebushes, for everywhere is a new bud, or a fresh blossom. Every colour of rose imaginable is here, and the scent is deep, yet not overpowering. Rock lattices over a clear crystal ceiling which allows sunlight in to feed the roses. Some of the crystal seems to have been removed to allow for smooth airflow, and the air is moist, cool, and fresh. Along the winding path sit some benches, shaped out of the stone of the Mountain itself.
Tsoran pays no further attention to Ktai, his attention on the more exotic visitor. "I should be quite surprised if there was much in your history you were inclined to hide, Savah. Yours is such an...open mind."
Ktai much prefers to be dismissed by Tsoran, rather than to be the subject of his running commentary and observations, and so, once she sees that he has dismissed her, her shoulders drop slightly, and she almost relaxes into a more comfortable position sitting beside Savah. Not having anything worthwhile to offer, or perhaps she knows that if she speaks, she's likely to be under scrutiny again, she keeps her peace and simply waits.
From above, Savith drops in, literally. His eyes flick across the scene, before one brow lifts. "Entertaining our guests, Brother," he asks lightly of Tsoran, a faint near-smirk on his face.
Tsoran looks up at Savith, inclining his head slightly in greeting. "Savith. I do trust you have no objections."
Savith merely shrugs, arms crossing as he leans on a bit of stone near by. "I'm not your keeper," he retorts, eyes going to Savah breifly.
Savah looks towards the new arrival, and nods her head towards Savith, "Greetings Savith." Her eyes flit to each of those present from where she sits, with Ktai beside her, her smile growing more and more.
Ktai looks up as Savith glides in and her eyebrow quirks at the interplay between Chosen. To Savith, she offers a faint smile, for she has found him to be pleasantly tolerable, and to see his reaction to Tsoran might go far in ranking him as more approachable in Ktai's mind.
Tsoran considers this. "No, I do believe Kureel resumed his position once more." Narrow gaze flickers briefly to Ktai.
Savith gives Savah a light nod in reply, murmuring her name faintly. Ktai is likewise given a mere nod, though her name isn't uttered. His eyes return to Tsoran as the other Chosen replies, the words making Savith purse his lips faintly. "Hmmm," is all he replies with, lips never parting at the sound. A single brow lifts again, twitching up, before falling back to 'normal'.
As the by play between 'Broothers' begins, Savah goes as silent as Ktai on the matter, listening to the tones and inflections in voices.
Oh, that was too much. Ktai almost laughs softly, but manages to collect herself before her laugh escapes, and busies herself tidying the knot of her purple shawl.
Tsoran turns back to Savah. "It is a somewhat unique situation for the Chosen to have so many visitors of a... diplomatic kind. Some measure of adjustment has been needed. I do hope none of our visitors have had cause for complaint."
A locksend freezes Ktai motionless for a moment, and she remains still for a very long time before she slowly looks up and across to Tsoran, something hidden flickering through her eyes.
"The only disturbance I have witnessed thus far was between the stargazer and one of the go-backs, though, that was more harmless than anything else," Savah replies to Tsoran. She then turns her eyes on Ktai, one hand going to touch the glideress's own, a send drifting privately.
Savith's eyes remain on his brother. 'adjustment,' the Chosne repeats to himself, smirking. 'If that's what you want to call it.' Ktai's laughter isn't overlooked, for Savith's eyes flicked to her for the breifest of moments. The pause in Tsoran's voice makes Savith narrow his eyes, turning his gaze to scan the ladies. Ktai's reacted to something. No doubt his brother is the cause. Well, let's hope the elfess does nothing to force Savith's hand inthe matter. After all, the Cage is so terribly close by.
Ktai turns to look to Savah for a moment, a send slipping out, but to Tsoran in reply before she offers a pale and wan smile to the Mother of Memory. "Nothing more than a difference of opinions, Savah. Kindness begets kindness... and insults merit silence." After all, she promised Rayek, didn't she?
"Or extra shifts," Savith adds under his breath, a half-grin starting to dare to form. This ought to be fun.
Tsoran raises an eyebrow. "Most definitely a story there. But perhaps one of the 'hidden' ones." He looks to Savah, picking up the thread of earlier conversation. "But I do have to object, sweet Savah, to your implication that secrecy is linked merely to a lack of perfection."
Savah shakes her head, the humored expression she'd thus far carried upon her visage fades, disappointment and sadness replacing it. The timbre of her voice reflects the change in thought and mood as well, a long slow sigh slips from between her lips, her brows furrow softly, "No Tsoran, I stated no mind, however open, is perfect. There are flaws in us all, be those flaws from secrets or else."
Tsoran locksends ** Our Ktai does enjoy playing the martyr, doesn't she? **
You locksend ** A martyr, Brother,** Savith replies, curiousity twinging his send a faint orange. **Do explain. ** to Tsoran.
Tsoran says "Ah, but you stated this in response to my claim that you were unlikely to hold any secrets. Do you disagree with my assertion, then?"
Tsoran locksends ** I commented to Ktai on her smiling reception of yourself. She immediately acted as if this was a grave insult. Should it be? **
Savith lifts a brow, eyes on Tsoran. His stance goes from faintly amused to lightly curious. Then, at a private reply, Savith starts laughing. It's a deep hearty laugh, centered in his chest. He has to take gasps for air when and where he can. His eyes go to Ktai, sparkle a moment, only to drop him into laughter a new. Something, it is very clear, has so completely amused the Chosen. He can't even get his mind to settle enough to reply.
Ktai sighs wearily, watching the dance of words begin between Savah and Tsoran. Privately, she's glad it isn't herself in that dance, though she'd rather not see Savah scrutinized so. As for herself, she returns her thoughts to her shawl, settling it on her shoulders before looking up to Savith in a cross of amusement and surprise.
From afar, Ktai grins
"That I hold no secrets?" Savah asks softly.
Tsoran steps closer to Savah, meeting her gaze.
Savith fights for the laughter to subside. When it finally does, it's with a big smile and a hand held out to Ktai that he speaks. "Come on, Ktai. I'll get you some lunch."
You sense in a locksend, Tsoran
Savah lifts her gaze fully, honey hued eyes settling onto Tsoran's own without fear. She sends something privately to him then, in response to his own locksend.
Oh, the amusement in Ktai's eyes as she rises to her feet after a moment of consideration. "Thank you, Savith. I believe that I would enjoy that." Her skirts ripple at her feet as she pauses, looking back to Savah for a moment.
Savith steps from the wall, hand still held out to be taken by Ktai. He nods as she accepts his lunch invitation, flicking a lock send at his Brother.
You locksend ** Enjoying yourself? ** to Tsoran.
Tsoran locksends ** I would ask the same, Brother. **
You locksend ** I am now. ** to Tsoran.
Tsoran inclines his head politely to Savith and Ktai as they depart.
Only after Savah replies to her, does Ktai extend her own hand, fingers softly darker against Savith's fingers. She smiles to Savah, and moves to follow Savith.
Rock Garden
Hidden lights weave tangled shadows in the frozen beauty of the gardens. A dim memory of the dappled play of sunlight through leaves, the patches of light reflect off manycolored stone shapes that echo the essence of trees and bushes and tangled vines; and plants whose like has never been seen on the world of Two Moons.
Several reaching pillars sprout branchlike tendrils that reach for walls and ceiling as if to support them. Clusters of smaller shapes, bringing to mind flowers and birds, emerge from the clinging branches - skillfully drawn forth from smaller veins of softly colored rock.
Seats shaped like crouched animals, beaked and taloned, have been covered with soft furs to invite to restful contemplation of the gardens.
The distant walls of the garden appears as an interlaced mass of entwined rock, forming loops and mazes, scattered with random bulbs bursting with the promise of leaves, or flowers..or other things.
Drafts can be felt from deep within the walls, hinting at hidden shafts and openings.
Savith leads the way out, gently holding Ktai's hand in his own. THe smile remains, as does the soft chuckle as he walks, headed toward the Dining Hall.
As she moves with him, she looks to him thoughtfully. "You did that on purpose."
"Yes," Savith replies, still chuckling. "Yes I did. Serves him right, that jackass."
Oh, and now she laughs. It's a soft laugh, and one that perhaps the Mountain has not heard in a very long time, for it's the laugh that used to ring across the room when she used to be asked to a dance by wither Sothel or Valdir so very long ago. "I will admit that he has a certain... lack of charm about him."
"You can say that again," Savith agrees, walking amiably. He laughs again, shaking his head at the humor of the situation. His laugh, on the other hand, rather than being one long missed within the mountain halls, is a very new addition, one brought on by finding the soulmate that actually calms him rather than aggrivates him, and filling holes in his past and aches in his heart.
She moves along with him, a slow and steady pace, though she may seem relieved at the chance to get away from Tsoran's scrutiny. Granted, she is not entirely at ease with a Chosen, for there is that old knowledge that lies within her heart of betrayals and the fear that all Chosen are blindly Loyal to Winnowill and Her desires. "He took me to task for smiling at you."
Savith chuckles at that again, nodding. "Yes. He mentioned it. That's what I've been laughing at," he replies, smiling. His steps are slow and carefree, just moving throught the halls of his home. He shakes his head lightly at it all, chuckling every soon often.
She too shakes her head. "I have tried very hard to be respectable and polite... but it is increasingly difficult in the face of his insults." She hasn't even lowered herself to an insult yet... unless you count that one moment where she took leave of her senses with Kureel.
Savith shrugs lightly, grinning at everything that's been going on this afternoon. "Well, considering it's Tsoran, I think you've been doing rather well," he replies. There's the briefest of pauses in shich he turns to look at Ktai, the elfess at his side. "But do continue to restrain yourself. I'm certain he'd love any excuse to see the Cage warmed by an elfin body."
"I think that I have done enough time within the Cage, myself." For oh she has, indeed she has. She pauses for a moment, her skirts swirling to a rustling stop as she looks to him thoughtfully with unfathomable dark eyes. "You seem different from the other Chosen. I find myself pleasantly surprised."
Savith slows to a stop at Ktai's side, hand still holding hers lightly. He turns to face her, to meet her dark gaze with his own mossgreen eyes. Once, not so long ago, he would have avoiding her direct gaze. He would have looked her in the face, anywhere in tha face, anywhere but the eyes. The wolfriders called him Souldancer for a reason. But now. He meets her gaze frankly, the smiles fading as she studies him. "All in the name of diplomacy," he retorts, though one has to ask, is that all there is to it?
An eyebrow quirks, for she might suspect that there is more inherent to the difference, but if he wishes to shield himself with the cloak of diplomacy, she will not force the issue. "We do a great many things in the name of diplomacy." There's that faint little smile again, as if she knows the better but will not press it further.
To that the Chosen smirks, eyes starting to warm before he turns them away to continue on toward the Dining Hall. High ones! That might have been a blush, for Ktai's statement makes Savith remember all the things he's... ah... done.. in the name of diplomacy. Again, just as with Tsoran, Savith merely hmmms his reply.
Bemused, she moves along with him, choosing to walk over flight, though he may not have noticed. His noncommittal reply is noted, pondered, and then filed away into the silence that falls upon her for a moment, before she risks a comment again. "I hope that your kindness towards me will not result in ostracizing. I am an exile, after all."
Savith snickers at that verbal commit. "It shan't," he replies almost warmly, his steps sure and certain, as if the Chosen has been walking a lot as of late. "My lifemate was also an exile," he offers, eyes sliding to glance at Ktai.
"Is, in many ways still," Savith adds a moment later, voice softer, almost as if an afterthought.
Ktai cants her head slightly, looking to Savith in a rather sort of surprise. "Did she seek to return to the Mountain of her own free will?" Perhaps she does not know who his lifemate is. It's likely the case, as she has not been Within the Mountain for long, nor has she made herself privy to anything that has gone on. In fact, she's been holed up in the Guest Chambers more often than not... possibly to avoid confrontations with Tsoran or Kureel.
No, most likely she doesn't, since said lifemate has kept herself within his private living chambers with their youngest, in an attempt to keep contact with Outsiders at little to none. "She didn't, actually," Savith admits. "I sort of forced her hand into the matter... then our eyes met."
You sense in a locksend, Sandspur's wordless, sleep-heavy send of greeting brushes over your mind; despite assurances that he was fine, the hunt, flight, and the scuffle drained the recouperating Rafter.
You locksend to Sandspur, Savith is just mellowing after some hilarity, and so his send is marginally warm. Of course, discussing how he tricked Larias into returning to the mountain is chilling him slightly, there's a happy ending to it, for he Recognized, did he not? In anycase, the Chosen replies, the words soft and gentle, as one would send to an infant. **Sandspur, you're awake. I hope you slept well.**
Ktai nods slowly, in understanding. "My own Recognition came as quite a shock as well, though it was not destined to be anything more than Recognition." She doesn't mention the fighting, the deathwish, the wildness that took over and brought her to a unique understanding of the Wolfriders, nor does she mention the threats that her own children made... one of which is within these very halls.
Sandspur locksends ** Very well. **affection, pleasure at the greeting, humor** And there are no holes in your cushions. **
Savith hmms again softly, mind flickering at some locksends. "I understand," the Chosen replies, a smile at something sent combatting with that deep frown of past pain.
You locksend ** For that I am glad,** he replies, a heartache competing with the touch of humor that tries to echo your own. **Everyone else sleeps still? ** to Sandspur.
Sandspur locksends ** Yes. Savith, what's wrong? <> **
Both eyebrows arch, and the exiled glideress looks concerned for a moment. "Is there something amiss?" He is, after all, a Chosen, and there is that Duty that she knows he will answer should it come to it. She isn't yet comfortable enough around him to not be concerned for her own throat, but she'll remain calm for now. No need to leap to conclusions with him. Yet.
You locksend ** Just a marginally unpleasant topic. But one grows stronger from such conversation, I think. But calm yourself. I am fine. ** to Sandspur.
And thank the High Ones for that. Savith has had it to the eartips with elfesses thinking the worse of him. To her question, the Chosen shakes his head, replying to a locksend before he speaks. "No, Ktai. Just a guest of mine that has woken. YOu were saying," he promptly softly, still waking toward the Dining Hall, taking the ...ah... scenic route?
The scenic route is what one gets within the Mountain when one chooses to walk instead of glide, for there are many stairs and long corridors that one must wander in lieu of simply flitting across the wide expanse and alighting within the room that you desire to be within. "Hm?" She asks almost conversationally. "Oh, I believe we were discussing Recognitions and lifemates." She, of course, hasn't mentioned her own status other than being Recognized.
Sandspur locksends ** If you're sure. <> **
Sandspur locksends ** I am a little hungry. <> I'd rather not wake the pretty one, though. **
"Hmmm," Savith replies for a moment, while his mind asks something. "We were," he continues, but he will not press on the subject of Ktai's unpleasant Recognitions, having had two more than any sane elf would have liked in his lifetime. Rather, the Chosen asks, "Are you happy with your life's choice?"
You locksend ** My thanks for that, Sandspur. Any amount of sleep she can get is a good thing. I am headed to the dining hall with another elfess. Would you like me to collect you? ** to Sandspur.
At that, Ktai tilts her head and looks to him. "Choice in which? Mate, or else?" There is a great deal of vagueness within his question, and she would like to know what it is that she is being asked.
"Mate," Savith clarifies, eyes flicking upward at a send. One brow is lifted, as if he too is awaiting an answer. Until this conversation in his head is over, he's only partially paying attention, and that's clear.
You sense in a locksend, Sandspur perks up, the earlier incident with Generi forgotten or at least not being dwelt upon. New! Must explore! **I'd like that, yes!**
She nods thoughtfully, pondering her reply. "Well, he's hotheaded, arrogant, often times pompous... and a third of my youngest daughter's age... but I do love him, and that's what counts, isn't it?" The entire description is given in a lightly amused voice, as if she's wondered at her own sanity for choosing as she has.
Savith sighs lightly, not really having paid attention to the description, though what had heard it can't help but envision Kureel.. at least unti lthe age is mentioned. But unable to dwell on it, Savith's shoulders tense, and he pulls his hand from her grasp gently. "Forgive me, Ktai. I must go and collect another for food. I shall rejoin you in the Dining Hall, if you wish to continue this conversation." And, not waiting for a reply, the Chosen rockets off through the mountain and toward his room.
Tenspan's Hall
This room is surprisingly sculpted to an interior room, no bas relief trees or birds adorn the majority of this room, and its large hollowness even as the glowlight dims into rock rafters above is imposing. In the middle of the oval-shaped room is a huge, long table with many well-crafted stone chairs where sitting comfortably is a simple goal. Some of the chairs look newer, almost hastily sculpted to resemble the others, but the chair at the head of the table is, like the room, a glorious work of art.
Three tunnels snake at odd angles away from this room. One is large and designed to handle a great deal of flow in and out of the ajoining hall, another, smaller, likely leads to the kitchen where food is prepared.
The regal Glider floats into the hall at a pace slightly slower than normal, allowing the Rafter tagging at his heels to kep up. Though the blond, barefoot, and bare-chested stranger to the mountain walks with only a trace of a limp, he is obviously gawking at everything -- his lips are slightly parted and his wide grey eyes flick to every corner of the room, up, down, and then circuit again to see if he missed anything.
The Chosen's earlier 'guest' is sitting quietly at a table, dutifully ignoring the stares and pointed sent and spoken whispers from the kitchen staff. No doubt they're talking about her again, and they aren't doing much to hide it, instead opting to whisper loudly in accompanyment to sent gossip. She's busy trying not to care, however, and focus on the water that she has managed to acquire.
Savith drops to a gentle landing as he and Sandspur arrive, sending a snap at the kitchen staff. **Quit your gossip and get back to work. Raw fish, water, wine, and fruit, now.** The Chosen sighs faintly at the chattering sparrows, walking toward the table.
Watch the staff scatter and scramble to get the Chosen what he... requested. Granted, it wasn't a request, but the Chosen aren't required to be courteous and polite all of the time. The elfess at the table lifts her head to look over at the send, and offers a faint smile of thanks to Savith, for she certainly isn't anyone to tell them what to do, or even to leave her alone. In fact, to even attempt it might result in one of those 'problem' moments.
Sandspur continues to gape in Savith's wake. In some ways, he considers the living caves in the Rafter territory to be more beautiful...but he has never seen art on this scale before. A little bone or coral shaping, yes, but this...to shape your entire _world_...is an overwhelming concept to one who is far more used to being at the mercy of nature at its rawest. He bumps into the table, then looks at it curiously, and finally looks up to notice Ktai. He smiled cautiously, an expression not a litle bit like the sun peeping out from a wisp of cloud. "Clear skies. I'm Sandspur."
Savith narrows his eyes at one particular little gossip, making her flit from the ground to get out of his way, before he turns back to Ktai and the table. The smile is replied to by a faint grin and a light send. **Annoying little twitter birds.**
Sandspur gives Savith a wicked little grin. **Am not!**
That makes Savith snicker once, replying, "Not you."
Sandspur laughs a little. **You're more patient than most of my tribe, then.**
She laughs at the Chosen's comment, and nods to the elf that she does not know. "Clear... skies to you." it is not a greeting that she herself uses often, though what her greeting of choice may be remains unknown. "The staff will talk... I have little doubt that they will talk all the more after this." And she'll have to warn Rayek, lest he overhear something that isn't the case.
Savith rolls his eyes lightly, sitting across the table from Ktai. "Unfortunately, you're right," Savith grumbles as the staff begins bringing out the meal. He watches Sandspur, refraining from offering aid up to the table just yet. Oh yes, the staff will talk! After all, Ktai and Savith WERE seen holding hands, ALL the way from the Rose Garden!
Sandspur regards the table and chairs as most might regard a strange tool. It has *some* use, obviously, but he's not sure just what. Well...the maiden is sitting. Maybe that's what's expected? The Rafter shrugs and takes a seat, trusting that Savith will probably just pluck him off of the chair if it's inappropriate.
Ktai laughs lightly again, though her comment seems that it should be more concerned than amused. "And if Rayek catches word before I can tell him what was going on, he'll be shooting sparks from one side of the Mountain to the other faster than it takes to say it."
"Ah," Savith says, eyes widening and a faint smile forming. "So that's the arrogant one you were talking about." Sandspur's choice of chair can ONLY be wrong if he sat inthe big winged one, you knoe, the Lord's Chair. The Chosen shakes his head. "High Ones, and I though my lifemate was an odd choice." Not that he was ENTIRELY in control of the choice, but still.
Sandspur listens, absorbing information like a sponge. "Is your lifemate here?" Sandspur asks curiously.
She rises to her feet, her skirts cascading a shimmering darkness all about her legs and pooling in ripples at her feet, and she looks to one of the many exits. "Indeed he is, and I'd better go speak with him now... before one of those chattering little birds get to him first." With a faintly apologetic smile, she moves towards the exit, pausing to turn back to Savith. "I will have to take you up on your offer of a meal at a later time, I fear. May the High Ones look kindly upon you."
Savith nods in reply, smiling lightly at Ktai. No worded reply does he give, however.He just watches her leave before turning back to the table. With the feast served, Savith motions to it, eyes going back to Sandspur. "The fish is raw for you." See! Savith remembers!
Sandspur has to swallow the rush of wetness in his mouth before he speaks. "Thank you." The fact that Savith has recalled that little detail isn't entirely lost on Sandspur...he saw the Glider cooking his own and knows Savith must find it distasteful. Yes, he will certainly have to do something for his friend soon. He tilts his head to one side as he piles the leaf-thin slices of pale, red-veined meat before him. "Who are the ones serving?"
"The annoying sparrows," Savith replies, eyes falling upon one thin boned elfess. She lifts her gaze to him, swallows, then drops her eyes, pouring wine into the CHosen's goblet. Savith narrows his eyes at her, lips pressed into a thin line. He's served himself some of the raw fish, and watercrestnuts to munch on, fingers collecting the delicate meat slowly.
Sandspur,munching happily on his meal, misses the look that passes between Savith and the skinny maiden. Between his recouperation and the excitement of the day, the Rafter is starving, and it shows. He inhales the meat and its garnishes with good appetite, then regards the dark liquid in Savith's cup when he comes up for air. "Is that medicine?"
Savith was midswallow, and Sandspur's question, so innocent, makes him cough as he tried to chuckle and swallow all at the same time. See, some rafters can breath water, but no elf can breath wine.
Sandspur tries to decide if he's offended or not, and decides to save it for after Savith has stopped coughing. He stands quickly and moves to thump his companion on the back a few times.
Savith waves off the help, getting his throat cleared. "I'm fine. Ahh.. It's wine," he answers finely, clearing his throat again. "Hmm.."
Well, the word sounds half-familiar, but not really. Sandspur regards the decanter, considering. "What's it for?
"Drinking," the Chosen replies, bringing more to his lips to clera his throat.
Obvious enough. Sandspur looks between the decanter and the extra goblet for a moment, then reaches for both, ignoring the server.
Savith watches Sandspur, sipping at his own wine. He clears his throat again, then reaches for some more food.
Sandspur seeing that he's not going to be stopped, Sandspur pours himself a generous cup and sniffs carefully. The smell makes his nose tingle a little, but nothing horrible...just new. He introduces himself to wine with hardy gulp, struggles with it for a second, then manages to swallow (even if if does make him go pop-eyed). **It stings!**
Savith laughs heartly at that, setting the wine goblet down. **Yeah, it can at first,** the Chosen sends, too busy laughing to speak. "But it grows on you."
Sandspur frowns a little at being laughed at and turns wordlessly back to his goblet, determined not to let a stinging berry juice get the better of him. He finishes the whole thing off in another gulp and reaches for the decanter again.
Still chuckling, Savith's eyes widen as Sandspur moves for more. "You might want to take it slow there," he tries to warn the Rafter.
**I'm thirsty,** Sandspur sends back stubbornly, trying to ignore the slight tearing of his eyes and the slight dizziness that comes with drinking that fast without a breath. Oh, yes. Breath. He remembers to breath before he starts gulping his second cup.
Savith shakes his head lightly, and floats the decanter away, one hand reaching to get Sandspur's wrist, if he can. "I think you've had plenty."
Sandspur doesn't try to avoid and shrugs slightly. "If you think so." Maybe some water wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. Tethered by his wrist and not really able to get comfortably back to his seat, Sandspur opts to perch on the edge of the table, swinging his legs. "That wasn't bad." He feels pretty good, actually...fuzzy, warm, and his leg is giving him no pain. He grins. "So it is medicine," he says aloud.
Savith sends for the water as he lets go of Sandspur's wrist. "No, it's not medicine. It's just wine, and if you're not used to it, over doing it is bad." He should know. His lifemate... oh bou. what a drinker a few turns back.
Sandspur laughs a little. "Well, it helped my leg. Doesn't ache at all now." A carafe of water settles at the Rafter's elbow and he carefully pours, spilling just a few drops down the side of the goblet, though he almost upsets everything setting it back down. He manages his drink without disaster, however. "How many rooms are here?" he asks softly, looking around as he remembers to be awed again.
"A lot," Savith replies, sitting back, eyes on the rafter. "I've never bothered to count." Cause, he hasn't. What's the point? The shapers could jsut as easily add or remove rooms whenever they wanted as leave everything alone. He continues eating lightly, almost enjoying the day off he's got from all the hunting and running around. That last hunt really helped.
"It's..." Sandspur goes quiet for a time as he tries to think of a good word. "We all build homes," he says finally, "but not like this. Not half-alive...looks like it'd flow under your fingers if you touched it."
Savith just shrugs at that. "If you're a rock shaper, I suppose." He drinks a bit more, gagging himself with food and drink. "If you'd like a tour," he offers after a moment of chewing.
Sandspur considers for a moment, then nods. "I'd like that. I want to see how you live. I've been swimming around forever, but I never saw any other elves until recently. It's happened so fast..."
Savith nods, munching on some fruit. "I'd be happy to show you around, at least until Duty summons me," the Chosen adds. "Whenever you're ready." SOmething's put a burr under his butt. Maybe it's the fear of a drunken rafter?
Monday, August 16, 2004
Monday, August 2, 2004
Good Intentions, Misunderstood
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.
Field before Blue Mountain
A single mountain stands almost unnaturally into the air before you, grand and solid. Boulders and uneven, sheer rock faces threaten those who wander too close. Huge cracks split the mountain's roots, down to the assortment of rubble at its feet and up, hundreds of heights toward the mountain's spindly peak. In either the brightness of day or under the light of twin moons, the entire mountain and all the rocks about it have a definite blue tint.
The field, dotted with boulders, seems to end at the mountain itself. One of the larger cracks obviously delves in deeper, forming a short, narrowing cave.
A few hours ago, a large hawk did a flyby of the area, its rider not stopping. Now, however, the hawk has returned, and drops off an elf. The Chosen, now, emerges from one of the Raft Holt tents, brow a bit furrowed and lips pressed tightly together. He stands for a moment in the open clearing in the middle of the campsite, as if composing himself for a nasty meeting mountainside.
Azil was tending to the fawns when she heard the high pitched whistle indicating an arrival. She turns on her heel, grabs her spear and pokes her head out of the tent. She can see a vague outline in the distance and she looks around to see who else is there for support. Not suprised to find anybody she creeps out of the tent, spear held at ready. She says nothing.
Savith stands still, head bowed against the gusts at the base of the mountain. The gleam of metal can be seen in his hands as he fiddles with the talonwhip that marks him as Chosen.
Azil's eyes widen then narrow again as she notices the weapon.She isn't sure if he's noticed her yet as she slinks behind a tree. She whistles for backup, doubting anyone will come as they are probably too busy eating, sleeping or furring. She calls out "What do you want pale one, a fight?"
The voice catches Savith's attention, and he turns to look in the direction of the sound. Green eyes narrow faintly as he scans the treeline searching for the voice's owner. "No," he replies a loud, continuing to coil the silvery rope attached to the butt-end of his weapon.
Azil's lips curl into a sneer as her eyes narrow. "Then go back into yer stinking hole and return our cheiftess to us!" She barks out. Its been a while since Kahvi and Kintae left to the mountain, she doesn't know what is going on, or if they will see her again... alive.
Savith rolls his eyes, moving to clip the weapon to his belt. "Your chieftess is free to return when her business is done," he replies coolly. "Perhaps you should send to her and see how much longer she'll be."
Azil blinks a bit then scratches her head. Sending.. that kinda.. hurts. She snorts and silently mocks him. She steps out from behind the tree and takes 3 paces forward. "I have no need for "magics" (she almost spits the word out). Just old fashioned troll metal and a target" She sizes you up with her eyes quickly, then narrows them.
Typical. Barbaric, brainless gobacks. Savith seems highly unimpressed, and his expression sours slightly. "So I see," he quips softly. "Well, your target is still being tracked, but if you like, I can deliever a message to your chieftess."
Azil isn't going to be thrown off guard by his courtesy. "Tell her we're wasting time here. We don't need your kind's help. Goback business, is goback business alone"
That makes Savith quirk a brow. "Goback business," he repeats. "After My Lord has extended Her hand to you and your tribe in this, the hunting of the Destroyers of your home?" Really, doesn't that Kahvi tell her peons /anything/?
A low, choked moan drifts from the tent behind Savith. It's a stifled sound, as if whoever is in pain is trying to hold back, and dies away quickly, only to be heard again within heartbeats, this time at a more intense pitch before being muffled.
Azil narrows her eyes almost as if she could read what he was thinking "Its our business!" She growls, threateningly "What do you care that..." She stops as she hears the moan, notices its in the seaelf encampment. "Maybe you should go finish, what you started" She indicates.
Savith glances back at the tent, and his expression shifts faintly. It's a bit of a frown. The motion, however, brings the talonwhip into view more, and it's silver rope is darkened by a red substance, one that stains his hands faintly. To the battle-hardened goback, it's clearly blood. Probably the same blood that darkens the trim of his uniform, now coming into view as Azil draws near. "There is little more I can do," he states.
Azil does notice the blood and readies her stance again. "Is this a game to you glider? Do you enjoy letting us "lowly" suffer?" Her eyes nearly shine in the night with anger.
The moaning does not fade this time, but instead builds to a full-throated, masculine scream in short order. The agonized scream that dies away in wet gurgle before very long. Sharp ears might catch sounds of violence from within the tent...thrashing and faint thumps.
Azil lets out a growl, then quickly glances around her. Her mind churns at the thought of an ambush. This one placed out for distraction while his kin finished the others off "Barbarians" She yells, her chest heaving with disgust and anger. Her sense of control fading to fury, she makes ready to charge him.
Annoyance flashes in Savith's eyes a moment, before he stamps it out with an iron fist. Turning from Azil and the tent, Savith faces the mountain, lifting his chin toward the summon and bringing a hand to his lips. But the motion is stopped short as he hears the goback scream and charge him. Quickly he glancing back to confirm, then launches himself up into the air.
Azil waves her double tipped spear around twice in the air before calling to arms all that can hear her voice. The dust benieth her feet whirls like a dust devil as she charges. Her eyes intent on her target, her aim is marked in her mind. She swings..
Chosen are expert flyers. This one is no different, and he skims through the air like a bug on water, pulling his body one way then the other as he ducks away from the swinging spear all while drifting higher and higher into the air. "Enough of this," he calls down to the goback. "I am not here to cause harm! End your thoughtless actions."
Azil's knuckles white as she grips her spear, angered largely at her inablility to strike him. She looks up, her ashen hair tangled about her face, her amathyst eyes burn with hatered "Liar!" she shouts and spits on the ground. She is near to the tent now and she strains her ears for any sound of movement within... perhaps she can catch his accomplice off guard.
Pained gasps for breath, barely audible above the harsh breathing of the snow-hardened warrioress, can be heard from beyond the canvas. The sounds of scuffling have not ceased, but are somewhat fainter now. A choked whimper drifts out in a momentary lull between bouts of thrashing before it begins again.
Savith watches Azil from above. **In sends there is only truth,** he sends to the goback, eyes narrowing faintly. **I am not here to cause harm to you, and am under explicit orders for such, but I will defend myself if needed.** And his own mind will bear witness that Azil swung first.
Azil turns towards the scuffling and takes a step towards the entrance of the tent as the Glider sends. She squeezes her eyes shut and staggers backward a few steps clutching her head. A sharp pain followed by dull aching. "Knock it off!" She hollars and shakes her head clear. Her eyes dart between him and the tent, still mistrusting, as all gobacks are, and sneaks to the entrance, preparing to throw back the flap and stab at anything that rushes towards her menacingly.
Savith falls silent then, watching the goback. His hands flex as he steadies himself in midair. If she moves to attack the injuried rafter inside, she better believe he's going to dive bomb her.
There's a golden-haired elf on the floor of the tent. He's almost as tall as a Glider himself, though broader shouldered. At the moment, he's arched up in a convulsion of exsquisate agony, foam from his mouth streaking his face and chest, eyes rolled back in his head. The bedding he was laying upon is tousled and blood-stained, while the elf himself lies half-on, half-off of it, twitching like a half-crushed bug as he goes into another convulsion. Blood mingles wih the foam on his body where he has already bitten through his lower lip. More blood flows from his heel, and his right leg is swollen and discolored, dark and far from healthy-looking.
Azil takes quite a few steps back as she clutches the scruff of her shirt "The mad sickness" She states in a voice mingled with awe and fear. Only a handful of times in her life has she seen this horrifying illness. She stares at the tent, wide eyed, the glider forgotten for the moment.
"No, it's not," Savith states from up above, starting to make a slow descent to the ground. "It's snake poison."
Azil continues to stare at the tent for a while, then her eyes flick to his.A rumor filters through her head, then to her lips without her being able to consiously think about it "The black snake...."
Landing, Savith overhears and sighs. "No. My Lord had nothing to do with this," the Chosen replies. "This was a simple mud-snake from the lake we were hunting at. It's not lethal, but he shold be watched."
Azil twitches her head as words which seem inconcievable to her, flutter in her brain "We?" She blinks, the fight all but torn out of her at the horid sight. "Why don't you do something about it!" She turns to him as blame. "Cannot you see he's in pain and suffering! Don't you have medicines that will help, or a ... " She opens her hand and closes it, grasping for the correct word "Healer" She finishes.
And that makes Savith's eyes lower to the ground, the frown return, and brow furrow. "I see the pain he is in, but I am no healer, and My Lord... is busy with the guests and visitors. I can not disturb her for this." YOu know, if he weren't a self-serving Chosen, he might actually sound sad about this.
Azil looks at you incredulously, before anger seeps into her features "What good are your magics then?" She walks away back to her tent wondering where she might be able to find a healer or a herbalist this time of night.
Inside the tent, the blond elf rolls onto his side, curling around himself, only semi-conscious and mewling like a newborn.
Savith watches Azil move away with a sigh. But hearing Sandspur's gurgles, he glances in. The foaming has begun. But unable to do any more, and having fresh fish to deliever, Savith turns and heads back to his bird.
Field before Blue Mountain
A single mountain stands almost unnaturally into the air before you, grand and solid. Boulders and uneven, sheer rock faces threaten those who wander too close. Huge cracks split the mountain's roots, down to the assortment of rubble at its feet and up, hundreds of heights toward the mountain's spindly peak. In either the brightness of day or under the light of twin moons, the entire mountain and all the rocks about it have a definite blue tint.
The field, dotted with boulders, seems to end at the mountain itself. One of the larger cracks obviously delves in deeper, forming a short, narrowing cave.
A few hours ago, a large hawk did a flyby of the area, its rider not stopping. Now, however, the hawk has returned, and drops off an elf. The Chosen, now, emerges from one of the Raft Holt tents, brow a bit furrowed and lips pressed tightly together. He stands for a moment in the open clearing in the middle of the campsite, as if composing himself for a nasty meeting mountainside.
Azil was tending to the fawns when she heard the high pitched whistle indicating an arrival. She turns on her heel, grabs her spear and pokes her head out of the tent. She can see a vague outline in the distance and she looks around to see who else is there for support. Not suprised to find anybody she creeps out of the tent, spear held at ready. She says nothing.
Savith stands still, head bowed against the gusts at the base of the mountain. The gleam of metal can be seen in his hands as he fiddles with the talonwhip that marks him as Chosen.
Azil's eyes widen then narrow again as she notices the weapon.She isn't sure if he's noticed her yet as she slinks behind a tree. She whistles for backup, doubting anyone will come as they are probably too busy eating, sleeping or furring. She calls out "What do you want pale one, a fight?"
The voice catches Savith's attention, and he turns to look in the direction of the sound. Green eyes narrow faintly as he scans the treeline searching for the voice's owner. "No," he replies a loud, continuing to coil the silvery rope attached to the butt-end of his weapon.
Azil's lips curl into a sneer as her eyes narrow. "Then go back into yer stinking hole and return our cheiftess to us!" She barks out. Its been a while since Kahvi and Kintae left to the mountain, she doesn't know what is going on, or if they will see her again... alive.
Savith rolls his eyes, moving to clip the weapon to his belt. "Your chieftess is free to return when her business is done," he replies coolly. "Perhaps you should send to her and see how much longer she'll be."
Azil blinks a bit then scratches her head. Sending.. that kinda.. hurts. She snorts and silently mocks him. She steps out from behind the tree and takes 3 paces forward. "I have no need for "magics" (she almost spits the word out). Just old fashioned troll metal and a target" She sizes you up with her eyes quickly, then narrows them.
Typical. Barbaric, brainless gobacks. Savith seems highly unimpressed, and his expression sours slightly. "So I see," he quips softly. "Well, your target is still being tracked, but if you like, I can deliever a message to your chieftess."
Azil isn't going to be thrown off guard by his courtesy. "Tell her we're wasting time here. We don't need your kind's help. Goback business, is goback business alone"
That makes Savith quirk a brow. "Goback business," he repeats. "After My Lord has extended Her hand to you and your tribe in this, the hunting of the Destroyers of your home?" Really, doesn't that Kahvi tell her peons /anything/?
A low, choked moan drifts from the tent behind Savith. It's a stifled sound, as if whoever is in pain is trying to hold back, and dies away quickly, only to be heard again within heartbeats, this time at a more intense pitch before being muffled.
Azil narrows her eyes almost as if she could read what he was thinking "Its our business!" She growls, threateningly "What do you care that..." She stops as she hears the moan, notices its in the seaelf encampment. "Maybe you should go finish, what you started" She indicates.
Savith glances back at the tent, and his expression shifts faintly. It's a bit of a frown. The motion, however, brings the talonwhip into view more, and it's silver rope is darkened by a red substance, one that stains his hands faintly. To the battle-hardened goback, it's clearly blood. Probably the same blood that darkens the trim of his uniform, now coming into view as Azil draws near. "There is little more I can do," he states.
Azil does notice the blood and readies her stance again. "Is this a game to you glider? Do you enjoy letting us "lowly" suffer?" Her eyes nearly shine in the night with anger.
The moaning does not fade this time, but instead builds to a full-throated, masculine scream in short order. The agonized scream that dies away in wet gurgle before very long. Sharp ears might catch sounds of violence from within the tent...thrashing and faint thumps.
Azil lets out a growl, then quickly glances around her. Her mind churns at the thought of an ambush. This one placed out for distraction while his kin finished the others off "Barbarians" She yells, her chest heaving with disgust and anger. Her sense of control fading to fury, she makes ready to charge him.
Annoyance flashes in Savith's eyes a moment, before he stamps it out with an iron fist. Turning from Azil and the tent, Savith faces the mountain, lifting his chin toward the summon and bringing a hand to his lips. But the motion is stopped short as he hears the goback scream and charge him. Quickly he glancing back to confirm, then launches himself up into the air.
Azil waves her double tipped spear around twice in the air before calling to arms all that can hear her voice. The dust benieth her feet whirls like a dust devil as she charges. Her eyes intent on her target, her aim is marked in her mind. She swings..
Chosen are expert flyers. This one is no different, and he skims through the air like a bug on water, pulling his body one way then the other as he ducks away from the swinging spear all while drifting higher and higher into the air. "Enough of this," he calls down to the goback. "I am not here to cause harm! End your thoughtless actions."
Azil's knuckles white as she grips her spear, angered largely at her inablility to strike him. She looks up, her ashen hair tangled about her face, her amathyst eyes burn with hatered "Liar!" she shouts and spits on the ground. She is near to the tent now and she strains her ears for any sound of movement within... perhaps she can catch his accomplice off guard.
Pained gasps for breath, barely audible above the harsh breathing of the snow-hardened warrioress, can be heard from beyond the canvas. The sounds of scuffling have not ceased, but are somewhat fainter now. A choked whimper drifts out in a momentary lull between bouts of thrashing before it begins again.
Savith watches Azil from above. **In sends there is only truth,** he sends to the goback, eyes narrowing faintly. **I am not here to cause harm to you, and am under explicit orders for such, but I will defend myself if needed.** And his own mind will bear witness that Azil swung first.
Azil turns towards the scuffling and takes a step towards the entrance of the tent as the Glider sends. She squeezes her eyes shut and staggers backward a few steps clutching her head. A sharp pain followed by dull aching. "Knock it off!" She hollars and shakes her head clear. Her eyes dart between him and the tent, still mistrusting, as all gobacks are, and sneaks to the entrance, preparing to throw back the flap and stab at anything that rushes towards her menacingly.
Savith falls silent then, watching the goback. His hands flex as he steadies himself in midair. If she moves to attack the injuried rafter inside, she better believe he's going to dive bomb her.
There's a golden-haired elf on the floor of the tent. He's almost as tall as a Glider himself, though broader shouldered. At the moment, he's arched up in a convulsion of exsquisate agony, foam from his mouth streaking his face and chest, eyes rolled back in his head. The bedding he was laying upon is tousled and blood-stained, while the elf himself lies half-on, half-off of it, twitching like a half-crushed bug as he goes into another convulsion. Blood mingles wih the foam on his body where he has already bitten through his lower lip. More blood flows from his heel, and his right leg is swollen and discolored, dark and far from healthy-looking.
Azil takes quite a few steps back as she clutches the scruff of her shirt "The mad sickness" She states in a voice mingled with awe and fear. Only a handful of times in her life has she seen this horrifying illness. She stares at the tent, wide eyed, the glider forgotten for the moment.
"No, it's not," Savith states from up above, starting to make a slow descent to the ground. "It's snake poison."
Azil continues to stare at the tent for a while, then her eyes flick to his.A rumor filters through her head, then to her lips without her being able to consiously think about it "The black snake...."
Landing, Savith overhears and sighs. "No. My Lord had nothing to do with this," the Chosen replies. "This was a simple mud-snake from the lake we were hunting at. It's not lethal, but he shold be watched."
Azil twitches her head as words which seem inconcievable to her, flutter in her brain "We?" She blinks, the fight all but torn out of her at the horid sight. "Why don't you do something about it!" She turns to him as blame. "Cannot you see he's in pain and suffering! Don't you have medicines that will help, or a ... " She opens her hand and closes it, grasping for the correct word "Healer" She finishes.
And that makes Savith's eyes lower to the ground, the frown return, and brow furrow. "I see the pain he is in, but I am no healer, and My Lord... is busy with the guests and visitors. I can not disturb her for this." YOu know, if he weren't a self-serving Chosen, he might actually sound sad about this.
Azil looks at you incredulously, before anger seeps into her features "What good are your magics then?" She walks away back to her tent wondering where she might be able to find a healer or a herbalist this time of night.
Inside the tent, the blond elf rolls onto his side, curling around himself, only semi-conscious and mewling like a newborn.
Savith watches Azil move away with a sigh. But hearing Sandspur's gurgles, he glances in. The foaming has begun. But unable to do any more, and having fresh fish to deliever, Savith turns and heads back to his bird.
Thursday, May 27, 2004
Message Delivered
THURSDAY, MAY 27, 2004
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.
Raft Beach - Camp Area - Raft Holt
Beach and forest meets here, and the place is cleared for tents and other forms of shelter. Straight north, you have cliffs stooping down to sharp impassible reefs. Boulders dot the beach there, all the way back to the forest. The beach holds the same characteristic patterns here, as it does all over. White sand with trickles of black. Here, one can enjoy the shades of the palms and coconut trees, or play in the shallows of the water.
The longest part of the day has arrived, bringing with it the brightness of the daystar high over head.
Savith arrived near dusk two days ago. His bird is perched upon the cliff, and he even sent a message along with Streak, that it was urgent he speak with the tribe's chief. Since then, it's been a waiting game. As dawn nears, he wakes, having slept against his bond bird. Not the most comfortable place to rest, but rest it was, and the Chosen stands, folding his blankets and tucking them away, chirping and clicking to Winddance, back to the beach below.
The Chief must be a busy man indeed, because it has taken him this long to actually take the time, it would seem. Not usual, considering the Raft in general are usually quite eager to meet their Mountain visitors. Now though, he makes his way up towards the camp area, trident in hand. The bird and accompanying elf is not hard to spot, so it is a straight line he makes towards you. ** Fair tides, Savith. ** he greets the by now familiar face. He isn't quite his smiling self these days, though.
Ah. Finally. Savith looks over his shoulder before turning fully to face the chief. **Clear skies, Chief Firewater,** he replies. **I bring a message from My Lord Winnowill, of Blue Moutain, meant for you and you alone.** And it's right down to business.
** I see. ** Firewater sends, giving a faint nod of his head. Glancing around, he gives a wave of his hand towards the firepit and the driftwood logs left out as seating place there. Switching to private sending smoothly, he moves towards them himself, waiting for you to follow. ** What message does Lord Winnowill have? ** He can be business too, see.
Savith leaves his bird as he is bid, and flies to the fire pit. Enroute, a locksend drifts from his mind. By the time he has settled, Savith's eyes have gone flat and emotionless. IN a send locked to Firewater's mind, the touch of Savith's mind, mingled with His Lord's conveys the message, **My Lord... I, request that you, Chieftain of Raft, and any magic users and able-bodied elves you can spare from your home, travel to Blue Mountain. At the summit, we shall all, all the various tribes from across Two Moons, shall discuss what must be done about a destructive set of twins that have destroyed no less than one elven holt: Grove holt. My Lord feels... I feel... this is a matter that no single tribe or gathering of elves can handle alone.**
Firewater watches your progress over to the firepit with a blank expression, your words seeming to cause no great surprise to him. After a moment's pause to see whether you have more to say, he nods his head ever so slightly. ** Word has reached us, even here, of these elves. Rumors and exaggerations, most of them, but I take it there is truth to the destruction of the Grove, then. I am sorry to hear this is true. ** he sends calmly, still private to your mind alone. ** I cannot say I understand, though. Why would these two wish to spread such devastation? ** All in all, Firewater's tribe is unused to such... random acts of cruelty, even with their ties to the Mountain.
**It is, as of yet, unknown to My Lord, to me, the why of it, ** Savith/Winnowill replies. **Other tribes are arriving. Can the Mountain count on you, Firewater, Chief of Raft Holt?** Savith's eyes seem to glitter... glitter an odd odd blue. A blue that is not normally found within his eyes.
Firewater watches your progress over to the firepit with a blank expression, your words seeming to cause no great surprise to him. After a moment's pause to see whether you have more to say, he nods his head ever so slightly. ** Word has reached us, even here, of these elves. Rumors and exaggerations, most of them, but I take it there is truth to the destruction of the Grove, then. I am sorry to hear this is true. ** he sends calmly, still private to your mind alone. ** I cannot say I understand, though. Why would these two wish to spread such devastation? ** All in all, Firewater's tribe is unused to such... random acts of cruelty, even with their ties to the Mountain.
**It is, as of yet, unknown to My Lord, to me, the why of it, ** Savith/Winnowill replies. **Other tribes are arriving. Can the Mountain count on you, Firewater, Chief of Raft Holt?** Savith's eyes seem to glitter... glitter an odd odd blue. A blue that is not normally found within his eyes.
Ah yes. Firewater goes quiet for a few moments, glancing down at the dormant firepit for a few moments. ** The Raft has not been too... welcome at the Mountain before. There have been complications. If Lord Winnowill can assure us that there will be none this time around, I am certain we will be able to come. ** That precept having been said though, Firewater continues, ** But in principle, the Raft agrees. We will join in whatever effort will be made to stop these twins. **
The Chosen smiles. It's a seductively dark expression, to which his eyes glimmer azure. **You have my personal Promise that no harm will come to /any/ of your tribe, so log as none move to harm any member of my family during their stay,** Savith replies... no. Not Savith. Winnowill. The Dark Lord of Blue Mountain sends through her Chosen, using his mind like a puppet. The feel of her mind strengthens, over powers the feel of Savith's own mind.
The change of sending tone is something that Firewater picks up on, the Chief narrowing his eyes faintly as he nods his head carefully. ** I see. Then we have an accord, as it is. I have business on the mainland as is. We will make our way to the Mountain at the same time. **
Savith nods, eyes still blue. **I have instructed my Chosen, Savith, to bring you or any other you wish to send ahead, on the back of his hawk, so you can inspect the area I have set aside for your tribe's use,** Winnowill replies through the mind of her puppet. **I can not stress enough how little time there is to gather and plan.** The smile fades, the Chosen's expression becoming more business like now that Raft's Aid is secured.
** I am certain we will find an arrangement for that. There is other things we would discuss as well, if there is time at the summit. ** Firewater sends, inclining his head towards the mind-riding Winnowill. ** Until then, Lord Winnowill? **
Again the Chosen nods, smiling a pleased and almost pleasant smile. **Of course, Chief Firewater,** Winnowill replies. **Savith knows what of what we spoke, and will wait two days here for you to inform him if he shall be carrying anyone to mountain.** When the send fades, Savith blinks, his eyes returning to their mossy hue. His shoulders slump and he exhales as if he had been holding his breath for far too long. Whew! That's just freaky...
The stiff smile Firewater returns is momentary, and fades quickly from his lips. By the time Savith seems to be Savith once more, Firewater is already rising to his feet. ** I have other business to attend to. I will see to it that you are given a more proper residence for your time here, as well as food, if you do not wish to hunt yourself. ** Firewater's stiffness is almost tangible, and his sending is a constrained one. Because when it comes to having your mind ridden, Firewater has experience on that part. It cost him three hundred years of memories in the end, and his tribe, until no more than a few hands of turns ago, and as such, this was not the most pleasant of experiences. ** Until later, Savith. ** he sends, giving a faint inclination of his head before turning and moving off.
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.
Raft Beach - Camp Area - Raft Holt
Beach and forest meets here, and the place is cleared for tents and other forms of shelter. Straight north, you have cliffs stooping down to sharp impassible reefs. Boulders dot the beach there, all the way back to the forest. The beach holds the same characteristic patterns here, as it does all over. White sand with trickles of black. Here, one can enjoy the shades of the palms and coconut trees, or play in the shallows of the water.
The longest part of the day has arrived, bringing with it the brightness of the daystar high over head.
Savith arrived near dusk two days ago. His bird is perched upon the cliff, and he even sent a message along with Streak, that it was urgent he speak with the tribe's chief. Since then, it's been a waiting game. As dawn nears, he wakes, having slept against his bond bird. Not the most comfortable place to rest, but rest it was, and the Chosen stands, folding his blankets and tucking them away, chirping and clicking to Winddance, back to the beach below.
The Chief must be a busy man indeed, because it has taken him this long to actually take the time, it would seem. Not usual, considering the Raft in general are usually quite eager to meet their Mountain visitors. Now though, he makes his way up towards the camp area, trident in hand. The bird and accompanying elf is not hard to spot, so it is a straight line he makes towards you. ** Fair tides, Savith. ** he greets the by now familiar face. He isn't quite his smiling self these days, though.
Ah. Finally. Savith looks over his shoulder before turning fully to face the chief. **Clear skies, Chief Firewater,** he replies. **I bring a message from My Lord Winnowill, of Blue Moutain, meant for you and you alone.** And it's right down to business.
** I see. ** Firewater sends, giving a faint nod of his head. Glancing around, he gives a wave of his hand towards the firepit and the driftwood logs left out as seating place there. Switching to private sending smoothly, he moves towards them himself, waiting for you to follow. ** What message does Lord Winnowill have? ** He can be business too, see.
Savith leaves his bird as he is bid, and flies to the fire pit. Enroute, a locksend drifts from his mind. By the time he has settled, Savith's eyes have gone flat and emotionless. IN a send locked to Firewater's mind, the touch of Savith's mind, mingled with His Lord's conveys the message, **My Lord... I, request that you, Chieftain of Raft, and any magic users and able-bodied elves you can spare from your home, travel to Blue Mountain. At the summit, we shall all, all the various tribes from across Two Moons, shall discuss what must be done about a destructive set of twins that have destroyed no less than one elven holt: Grove holt. My Lord feels... I feel... this is a matter that no single tribe or gathering of elves can handle alone.**
Firewater watches your progress over to the firepit with a blank expression, your words seeming to cause no great surprise to him. After a moment's pause to see whether you have more to say, he nods his head ever so slightly. ** Word has reached us, even here, of these elves. Rumors and exaggerations, most of them, but I take it there is truth to the destruction of the Grove, then. I am sorry to hear this is true. ** he sends calmly, still private to your mind alone. ** I cannot say I understand, though. Why would these two wish to spread such devastation? ** All in all, Firewater's tribe is unused to such... random acts of cruelty, even with their ties to the Mountain.
**It is, as of yet, unknown to My Lord, to me, the why of it, ** Savith/Winnowill replies. **Other tribes are arriving. Can the Mountain count on you, Firewater, Chief of Raft Holt?** Savith's eyes seem to glitter... glitter an odd odd blue. A blue that is not normally found within his eyes.
Firewater watches your progress over to the firepit with a blank expression, your words seeming to cause no great surprise to him. After a moment's pause to see whether you have more to say, he nods his head ever so slightly. ** Word has reached us, even here, of these elves. Rumors and exaggerations, most of them, but I take it there is truth to the destruction of the Grove, then. I am sorry to hear this is true. ** he sends calmly, still private to your mind alone. ** I cannot say I understand, though. Why would these two wish to spread such devastation? ** All in all, Firewater's tribe is unused to such... random acts of cruelty, even with their ties to the Mountain.
**It is, as of yet, unknown to My Lord, to me, the why of it, ** Savith/Winnowill replies. **Other tribes are arriving. Can the Mountain count on you, Firewater, Chief of Raft Holt?** Savith's eyes seem to glitter... glitter an odd odd blue. A blue that is not normally found within his eyes.
Ah yes. Firewater goes quiet for a few moments, glancing down at the dormant firepit for a few moments. ** The Raft has not been too... welcome at the Mountain before. There have been complications. If Lord Winnowill can assure us that there will be none this time around, I am certain we will be able to come. ** That precept having been said though, Firewater continues, ** But in principle, the Raft agrees. We will join in whatever effort will be made to stop these twins. **
The Chosen smiles. It's a seductively dark expression, to which his eyes glimmer azure. **You have my personal Promise that no harm will come to /any/ of your tribe, so log as none move to harm any member of my family during their stay,** Savith replies... no. Not Savith. Winnowill. The Dark Lord of Blue Mountain sends through her Chosen, using his mind like a puppet. The feel of her mind strengthens, over powers the feel of Savith's own mind.
The change of sending tone is something that Firewater picks up on, the Chief narrowing his eyes faintly as he nods his head carefully. ** I see. Then we have an accord, as it is. I have business on the mainland as is. We will make our way to the Mountain at the same time. **
Savith nods, eyes still blue. **I have instructed my Chosen, Savith, to bring you or any other you wish to send ahead, on the back of his hawk, so you can inspect the area I have set aside for your tribe's use,** Winnowill replies through the mind of her puppet. **I can not stress enough how little time there is to gather and plan.** The smile fades, the Chosen's expression becoming more business like now that Raft's Aid is secured.
** I am certain we will find an arrangement for that. There is other things we would discuss as well, if there is time at the summit. ** Firewater sends, inclining his head towards the mind-riding Winnowill. ** Until then, Lord Winnowill? **
Again the Chosen nods, smiling a pleased and almost pleasant smile. **Of course, Chief Firewater,** Winnowill replies. **Savith knows what of what we spoke, and will wait two days here for you to inform him if he shall be carrying anyone to mountain.** When the send fades, Savith blinks, his eyes returning to their mossy hue. His shoulders slump and he exhales as if he had been holding his breath for far too long. Whew! That's just freaky...
The stiff smile Firewater returns is momentary, and fades quickly from his lips. By the time Savith seems to be Savith once more, Firewater is already rising to his feet. ** I have other business to attend to. I will see to it that you are given a more proper residence for your time here, as well as food, if you do not wish to hunt yourself. ** Firewater's stiffness is almost tangible, and his sending is a constrained one. Because when it comes to having your mind ridden, Firewater has experience on that part. It cost him three hundred years of memories in the end, and his tribe, until no more than a few hands of turns ago, and as such, this was not the most pleasant of experiences. ** Until later, Savith. ** he sends, giving a faint inclination of his head before turning and moving off.
A Beach Side Chat
THURSDAY, MAY 27, 2004
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.
Raft Beach - Camp Area - Raft Holt
Beach and forest meets here, and the place is cleared for tents and other forms of shelter. Straight north, you have cliffs stooping down to sharp impassible reefs. Boulders dot the beach there, all the way back to the forest. The beach holds the same characteristic patterns here, as it does all over. White sand with trickles of black. Here, one can enjoy the shades of the palms and coconut trees, or play in the shallows of the water.
Dawn has come, bringing with it the bright array of colors to light up the horizon.
Watersong comes down onto the campsite to see if the guest of the tribe has returned. She's wet from the Waterfall, but is air drying. It's rather late at night as she sashays down from the forest in her bare feet.
After the flight with Firestorm, Savith has sent her off to rest while he stayed awake, unable to sleep. Finding Winddance's perch cold and unyielding, the Chosen opted for the fireside. His eyes upon the flames, the CHosen seems lost in thought.
Watersong smiles, "Calm tides Chosen. How are you doing tonight?" She comes up opposite of him so he can see her by the fire light, "Might I join you?"
Green eyes blink a few times as Savith pulls his gaze from the flames. His gaze settles upon the friendly Watersong. "I am well," he replies, a light shrug and a shake of his head his only answer to her question about her joining him.
Watersong smiles as she sits down by the fire, "How was the manyteeth steak? Did you enjoy it?" She asks as she folds her hands on her legs as she is sitting with her legs folded under her demurely.
"It was most filling," the Chosen replies, eyes upon Watersong as she sits by the fire. "Thank you again for bringing it. I was most thoughtful."
"I'm glad that you enjoyed it. I can make another one for you while you stay here. I don't mind. I enjoy cooking, almost as much as I enjoy making music." Watersong's eyes light up as she talks about music. "So besiding doing your Lord's bidding what do you like to do?"
Savith quirks a brow at the question. "My Lord's Will," he replies. His voice is flat in tone, though his eyes remain attentive and curious. The offer of cooking recieves no comment. Merely, it is just filed away for later.
Watersong ohs, "So that's all you do? It must be boring, but each to their own. I couldn't do that all day. I'm always singing or humming, even if it's not out loud."
Savith just nods. For a heartbeat he waits, not giving a reply to Watersong's comment about how boring it must be. With nothing more to say, he turns back to the fire.
Watersong continues to chatter on, not minding Savith's silence, just gives her more chance to talk, "Do you have any family? Or squirts? That's children if you didn't know. I have one, but he's with is father in the plains." She sighs wistfully, "I miss him sometimes, but they were happy in the plains and I am happy at the ocean."
Savith would have replied, but Watersong just kept right on talking. So instead, the Chosen slides his eyes frm the flickering firelight again to regard Watersong.
Watersong looks to Savith and waits for him to reply to her question, "Is that a no?"
"A no about what," he asks in reply. His head tilts faintly in question, like a bird looking at something sideways might.
Watersong giggles, "About having a child silly? Or is it just you all alone at the Blue Mountain."
Savith ohs softly, licking his lips before replying. "I have four, actually." And they all say that the mountain is stagnant! HA!
Watersong oh mys, "Four. Oh I can't imagine that. One was a handful enough. I certainly hope they were spaced out."
Savith's head rocks side to side. "You could say they were," he murmurs, turning his eyes back to the flames. His eyes narrow faintly as the conversation brings to mind a few things, and he stops to think them through.
Watersong ahs, "I'd imagine so. So how long are you going to be here? Is it a long visit like that of your watershaper?"
The voice once again draws Savith from his reverie, and the Chosen turns his gaze back to Watersong. "My stay will be as long as it must be in order to deliever my message and recieve a reply. No more, no less." He pauses than, as if selecting the right words to say. "No," he replies finally.
Watersong looks wistful and put a finger to her lip to tap it gently, "Too bad. That large bird of yours is certainly useful for catching manyteeth. Or so I have heard the hunters talk about it."
Savith nods, an almost smirk playing across his features. "That she is. I do plan on huntnig a little later, or at least scouting the waters for any small manyfang we can collect. I dislike being aburden to tribes I visit."
Watersong waves her hand at him, "Oh pasha, you are not a burden on the tribe. It's an honor to have you here."
That recieves a snort from his nose and a nearly full-fledged smirk, all while his eyes return to the flames. "Not all share your pinion, and so I tread lightly." As Ordered.
Watersong shrugs, "I never cared what other's thought as long as I'm here I'll make you feel welcome."
Savith dips his head at Watersong as he replies, "Very nice of you, thank you." Then his eyes return to the flames.
Watersong smiles, "You're welcome. I don't mind, if you need anything just ask." She looks at the flames and holds out her hands to warm them up before she rubs her arms.
Savith nods to the offer. The night is pleasant for him. Then again, he's in a gull glight suit, and so, when he spots Waterson gtrying to warm herself, he eyes an extra blanket he brought. "If you're cold," he begins. "I have an extra blanket you can borrow for now."
Watersong smiles, "Why thank you." She moves over to him to get the extra blanket and she wraps it around herself before sitting back down. Watersong looks up, "It's a beautiful night out."
As Watersong agrees to the blanket, Savith's mind reaches for it, and brings it to her, meeting her halfway. Once she's settled witht he balnket, he removes his mental hold over it, eyes returning ot the flames. "Hmm, yes, it is," he replies, somewhat distractly.
Watersong looks back at Savith, "Is something wrong Savith? Did your reunion with your daughter not go as you thought it would?"
Oh! That brings Savith to the present. The CHosen stiffens, and turns cold green eyes upon Watersong. "What makes you think it was my daughter," he asks, lifting a brow. "We gliders must all look a like to you, hmm."
Offshore, there's an elf capering in the nighttime water as if it's midday, chasing the ripples of moonlight and starshine across the water without much purpose beyond simple movement.
Watersong wells, "The way you two were carrying on it certainly seemed like it. I could be wrong, I've been wrong before." The noice of the capering distracts her, "Who's out there?"
Savith hmms softly, not replying. At Watersong's question, Savith turns and looks out to sea, eyes narrowing.
After a few momoments more frolicking, the elf in question seems to notice the audience and the fire and waves. **Gentle currents!** Definitely Sandspur. He dives again, but surfaces -- eyes and nose only -- not far from the shore, looking curious.
Watersong smiles, ** Calm tides Sandspur. How are you doing? ** She looks to Savith, "It's just Sandspur."
Ah. Sandspur. Savith eyes the happy-go-lucky elf, eyes curious as well, as he sends his reply. **Clear skies.** Sittign by the fire, they are, and Watersong wrapped in one of Savith's blankets.
**Just swimming. There's a baby boatback out there.** The Raft tribe's resident bit of flotsam bobs in the waves a few moments more, then wades up onto the beach, wringing out his hair and shivering just a little in the night air before he hunkers next to the fire. He tilts his head at Savith. **Have you talked to the chief yet?**
Watersong opens the blanket for Sandspur, "Care to join me? You wouldn't want to freeze. I'm sure Savith wouldn't mind if his blanket got a little wet. I'll hang it out to dry for him if he does."
Savith watches Sandspur makes his way toward teh firesie, shaking his head as the other elf draws near and asks about the chief."I admit that I hav enot, but I have been here but little, and so can wait longer." At Watersong's offer to Sandspur of his blanket, he blinks once. Emotions hard to read ont he Chosen, he replies in a flat even tone, "As you like."
Sandspur blinks and glances from side to side. Finally, he shrugs and shakes his head, simply stretching out full-length by the fire. **I'll dry instead. Then you can salt me and put me in the storage dens as well,** he open-sends, teasing. He plunks his chin down on his palm and regards Savith with grey eyes gone amber in the firelight. **Do you like it here? Do you think you'll stay?** There's an odd undercurrent to that open sending -- or perhaps just odd because foam-headed Sandspur rarely has an undercurrent of anything going through his mind. All his emotions tend to rise to the surface.
Watersong chuckles a little bit as she rewraps herself, "Promises, promises." She turns to listen to Savith's responce as she stretches out her legs and wiggles her toes near the fire.
Savith returns Sandspur's scurtiny firmly, with an unworried look. "I must say no," he replies. "I have my Orders,and once fullfilled, I must take my leave."
Though he makes no send, the look of disappointment on Sandspur's face gives away his opinion on that course of action. He switches to speech. "But it's such a long journey. Doesn't your bird have to rest some more?"
Watersong shushes Sandspur, "Chosen Savith has very many important things to do. His bondbird is very strong and I'm sure she is rested enough even if he had to leave at a moment's notice."
Sandspur looks puzzled. "'Chosen'?"
The disappointment from Sandspur makes Savith nearly chuckle. The expression ends up a smirk on his features, as he shakes his head softly. "Rest or not, My Lord's WIll is my own," he replies. He pauses as Watersong seems to chides Sandspur, and a brow quirks as he wonders just what Watersong knows about gliders and their bondbirds. After all, he made no mention as to what his hawk was called, at least, not to her. Sandspur's question recieves a nod. "Yes. I am Chosen of Blue Mountain, Chosen out of the rest to Protect, Provide, and Serve."
Watersong has been asking around about the glider Savith from other Rafters. She smiles as she listens to Savith explain what the Chosen do. "See it's very important."
Sandspur sighs pitiously. Even his sharp eartips seem to droop. "Will we get to hunt again before you leave?" he asks, his voice wistful.
Asking about, huh? Well, if she had been asking about, it's a miracle her view of him is as bright and pleasant as it is. Granted, he's been polite the last view times he was here, but still. There are too many in this holt that know of the horrorific things a Chosen can do that can spread rumors about him and his baby-snatching ways. Savith flicks a glance at Watersong, before replying to Sandspur, "Most certainly. I was planning a hunt during the day, for a manyfang to provde the tribe with." Like he said earlier, he does so hate to be a burden.
Watersong chose only to believe the good stuff she heard about him, putting the other stuff to misunderstanding and overactive imaginaitons. She smiles at Sandspur, "Maybe if you ask nicely Savith will take you with him."
Sandspur brightens slightly. He was hoping that they could hunt redbelly again, or something that would take just the two of them, but it was better than nothing. "You'll wake me, won't you?"
Good stuff? Like what? The brawl with Shadows where he tore up the wolfrider? The time he flew away with the nweborn Amber? Or what about the constant tailing of the glider refugee Larias? Or the time he nearly skewered an expectant mother with a spear while she was about to drop her child? So many 'good' things to say about Savith. Really, pray tell what good things were said about hte Chosen? After all, he's just playing with Amber and being nice to her when he visists so later he can steal her away and make her thing it was her choice. He nods to Sandspur, "I shall, if you are within send's reach, but I do not think you should join me on a hunt for manyfang. It is a dangerous hunt, to say the least." And Winnowill would BEAT him if he screwed up Raft relations. "If that hunt turns up nothing, I would be willing to hunt redbelly with you again, however."
Well how good a hunter of manyfang he is for one and there is other good stuff to be said about Savith, Watersong just can't remember it right now, not that she ever let that bother her. She nods approvingly and keeps quiet for once as the subject is about hunting something she doesn't know much about.
Sandspur actually sulks a little. "I've hunted manytooth before. Are you planning to fly out and take one on your own?" His eyes light suddenly, sparking excitement, and he leans towards Savith so far he almost unbalances. "Are you hunting from birdback?"
As Watersong stays quiet, Savith focuses upon Sandspur, the excited youth getting a smirk. "I am, indeed," he replies. "To both, hunting manyfang alone, and hunting from birdback. It is the way way to bring in the catch."
Sandspur all but has his chin on Savith's knee at this point. "You know, I don't weigh all that much and Watersong *did* say your bird is strong..."
Savith eyes Sandspur as he practically puts his chin on his knee. But the Chosen refrains from pulling back, or making any sort of motions. Rather, Savith just regard him and replies, "It is not your weight the concerns me, but rather your safety. I would have to divide my attention between you and the hunt. Something that could get us both killed."
Watersong continues to listen attentively to the two males talk about hunting manyteeth. She yawns a little and covers her mouth with her hands before she snuggles down into the blanket that Savith has lent her.
Sandspur sighs and wishes he was better at this cajoling business, but this is as good as he gets at clever speaking. "What? I would fall off into the water at worst."
"And into the mouth of the manyfang, at best," Savith replies, shaking his head. "It is a risk I can not take. I will not hunt manyfang with you astride my bird." Of course, that says nothing about just flying about on the bird's back...
Watersong looks to Sandspur, "You're hide doesn't need any more scars on it Sandspur."
Sandspur blinks and looks down at his scarred chest. Oh yes, those. Well, it is true that he doesn't have that much hide left, but still...flying! With Savith! On the bird! Waaah! All the same, he heroically refrains from kicking the sand and going into a full-on pout. "Oh, very well. I'm not going to hope you come back empty-handed, Savith. And I'd still like to know when you leave."
Savith nods, and is rather glad Sadspur didn't ask for a joy ride. His orders to be polite might have forced him to say yes. There's little danger in it, after all.. At least, none for Sandspur. Saviht, on the other hand, would have immediately been assumed to be flying away with Sandspur... Okay, so Savith would have said no anyway, but STILL! He'd have thought about it, and it's the thought that counts, right? "I'll send for you, or you can listen for my whislte. It's loud enough to be heard clearly for quite a distance."
Watersong smiles and nods, "I hope you have a good hunt Savith and come back with as big a manyfang that your bird can carry." She looks up, "Still it would be nice to ride up in the cloud. Not that I would want to Savith. It would be nice, but I would perfer to keep my feet on the ground."
Sandspur rests his head on folded arms and sighs deeply enough to stir his salt-and-water weighted hair off of his eye. "It must be exciting to fly, though, Watersong. And imagine how much of the world you could see from that height! It took me days and days to reach my island, but I'll be Savith could be there in an eight of hours."
Savith grins smirks, and turns his gaze back to the fire. Finally! His face shows some emotion. And that emotion is pride. Yeah. Flying is da bomb. He won't trade it for anything in the... okay, maybe ONE thing, but let's not go there. Not a pleasant place to be. INstead, Savith sits smugly, watching the fire eat at the logs.
Watersong shrugs, "Maybe so, but I like looking at the world from under the water. The sky is only blue because the water is blue."
Sandspur tilts his head to one side. "What?"
Savith's brows lift faintly a she sits silently and listens to the conversation. But his thoughts stray, and he finds himself cold despite teh flames, and so, a frown forms. He should go back to his bird's nest, and force himself to rest. Especially if he's going to be hunting tomorrow.
Watersong looks over at Sandspur, "I like looking up at the world, not down at it."
Sandspur still doesn't think it makes sense, but nods. "Savith...are you all right?"
Savith hmms, and looks over at Sandspur. He asks the question honestly to himself first, taking note of what's going on. No, he's not fine. How much will that new hatchling change while he's away? It's heartbreaking, despite the fearful thrill that meeting Firestorm was.But to Sandspur he nods, averting his eyes as he out rights lies, "I'm fine. I think I'll retire to my nest now, in preparation for my hunt in the morning." Oh, but standing is a good excuse to avert ones eyes, and so, he stands.
Sandspur sits up. "All right...sleep well." He grins. "Don't forget me!"
Watersong yawns and stands up, "I think I'll go back to the rafts as well." She unwraps and carefully folds the blanket, "Thank you for the use of your blanket Savith." Watersong holds it out to him.
Savith takes the blanket, with his HAND this time!, and nods. "Sleep well," he murmurs to Watersong, eyes cast down to hide the troubled glint to their hue. His mind collects the rest of the bedding he brought down to the beach, haivng thought to nap out here, by the lapping waves. "A difficult thing to do, I assure you, Sandspur," Savith replies, lifting himself from the ground as he collects all hs blankets.
Sandspur watches him go, then settles by the fire again. "You go ahead, Watersong. I'm not tired."
Savith flies to the cliff without another word, mind, body, and soul aching for his lifemate, and the feel of their two hatchlings in his arms. Seeing Firestorm today made him realize just how alone he is when out on a mission. Shivering with a sudden chill as he drops to a landing, he coos at WInddance, pats her gently and covers himself, half sitting half laying aginst his hawk. 'Larias... I hope you're dreaming well,' he thinks to himself, hoping she can hear him, as he closes his eyes and focres his body to rest.
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.
Raft Beach - Camp Area - Raft Holt
Beach and forest meets here, and the place is cleared for tents and other forms of shelter. Straight north, you have cliffs stooping down to sharp impassible reefs. Boulders dot the beach there, all the way back to the forest. The beach holds the same characteristic patterns here, as it does all over. White sand with trickles of black. Here, one can enjoy the shades of the palms and coconut trees, or play in the shallows of the water.
Dawn has come, bringing with it the bright array of colors to light up the horizon.
Watersong comes down onto the campsite to see if the guest of the tribe has returned. She's wet from the Waterfall, but is air drying. It's rather late at night as she sashays down from the forest in her bare feet.
After the flight with Firestorm, Savith has sent her off to rest while he stayed awake, unable to sleep. Finding Winddance's perch cold and unyielding, the Chosen opted for the fireside. His eyes upon the flames, the CHosen seems lost in thought.
Watersong smiles, "Calm tides Chosen. How are you doing tonight?" She comes up opposite of him so he can see her by the fire light, "Might I join you?"
Green eyes blink a few times as Savith pulls his gaze from the flames. His gaze settles upon the friendly Watersong. "I am well," he replies, a light shrug and a shake of his head his only answer to her question about her joining him.
Watersong smiles as she sits down by the fire, "How was the manyteeth steak? Did you enjoy it?" She asks as she folds her hands on her legs as she is sitting with her legs folded under her demurely.
"It was most filling," the Chosen replies, eyes upon Watersong as she sits by the fire. "Thank you again for bringing it. I was most thoughtful."
"I'm glad that you enjoyed it. I can make another one for you while you stay here. I don't mind. I enjoy cooking, almost as much as I enjoy making music." Watersong's eyes light up as she talks about music. "So besiding doing your Lord's bidding what do you like to do?"
Savith quirks a brow at the question. "My Lord's Will," he replies. His voice is flat in tone, though his eyes remain attentive and curious. The offer of cooking recieves no comment. Merely, it is just filed away for later.
Watersong ohs, "So that's all you do? It must be boring, but each to their own. I couldn't do that all day. I'm always singing or humming, even if it's not out loud."
Savith just nods. For a heartbeat he waits, not giving a reply to Watersong's comment about how boring it must be. With nothing more to say, he turns back to the fire.
Watersong continues to chatter on, not minding Savith's silence, just gives her more chance to talk, "Do you have any family? Or squirts? That's children if you didn't know. I have one, but he's with is father in the plains." She sighs wistfully, "I miss him sometimes, but they were happy in the plains and I am happy at the ocean."
Savith would have replied, but Watersong just kept right on talking. So instead, the Chosen slides his eyes frm the flickering firelight again to regard Watersong.
Watersong looks to Savith and waits for him to reply to her question, "Is that a no?"
"A no about what," he asks in reply. His head tilts faintly in question, like a bird looking at something sideways might.
Watersong giggles, "About having a child silly? Or is it just you all alone at the Blue Mountain."
Savith ohs softly, licking his lips before replying. "I have four, actually." And they all say that the mountain is stagnant! HA!
Watersong oh mys, "Four. Oh I can't imagine that. One was a handful enough. I certainly hope they were spaced out."
Savith's head rocks side to side. "You could say they were," he murmurs, turning his eyes back to the flames. His eyes narrow faintly as the conversation brings to mind a few things, and he stops to think them through.
Watersong ahs, "I'd imagine so. So how long are you going to be here? Is it a long visit like that of your watershaper?"
The voice once again draws Savith from his reverie, and the Chosen turns his gaze back to Watersong. "My stay will be as long as it must be in order to deliever my message and recieve a reply. No more, no less." He pauses than, as if selecting the right words to say. "No," he replies finally.
Watersong looks wistful and put a finger to her lip to tap it gently, "Too bad. That large bird of yours is certainly useful for catching manyteeth. Or so I have heard the hunters talk about it."
Savith nods, an almost smirk playing across his features. "That she is. I do plan on huntnig a little later, or at least scouting the waters for any small manyfang we can collect. I dislike being aburden to tribes I visit."
Watersong waves her hand at him, "Oh pasha, you are not a burden on the tribe. It's an honor to have you here."
That recieves a snort from his nose and a nearly full-fledged smirk, all while his eyes return to the flames. "Not all share your pinion, and so I tread lightly." As Ordered.
Watersong shrugs, "I never cared what other's thought as long as I'm here I'll make you feel welcome."
Savith dips his head at Watersong as he replies, "Very nice of you, thank you." Then his eyes return to the flames.
Watersong smiles, "You're welcome. I don't mind, if you need anything just ask." She looks at the flames and holds out her hands to warm them up before she rubs her arms.
Savith nods to the offer. The night is pleasant for him. Then again, he's in a gull glight suit, and so, when he spots Waterson gtrying to warm herself, he eyes an extra blanket he brought. "If you're cold," he begins. "I have an extra blanket you can borrow for now."
Watersong smiles, "Why thank you." She moves over to him to get the extra blanket and she wraps it around herself before sitting back down. Watersong looks up, "It's a beautiful night out."
As Watersong agrees to the blanket, Savith's mind reaches for it, and brings it to her, meeting her halfway. Once she's settled witht he balnket, he removes his mental hold over it, eyes returning ot the flames. "Hmm, yes, it is," he replies, somewhat distractly.
Watersong looks back at Savith, "Is something wrong Savith? Did your reunion with your daughter not go as you thought it would?"
Oh! That brings Savith to the present. The CHosen stiffens, and turns cold green eyes upon Watersong. "What makes you think it was my daughter," he asks, lifting a brow. "We gliders must all look a like to you, hmm."
Offshore, there's an elf capering in the nighttime water as if it's midday, chasing the ripples of moonlight and starshine across the water without much purpose beyond simple movement.
Watersong wells, "The way you two were carrying on it certainly seemed like it. I could be wrong, I've been wrong before." The noice of the capering distracts her, "Who's out there?"
Savith hmms softly, not replying. At Watersong's question, Savith turns and looks out to sea, eyes narrowing.
After a few momoments more frolicking, the elf in question seems to notice the audience and the fire and waves. **Gentle currents!** Definitely Sandspur. He dives again, but surfaces -- eyes and nose only -- not far from the shore, looking curious.
Watersong smiles, ** Calm tides Sandspur. How are you doing? ** She looks to Savith, "It's just Sandspur."
Ah. Sandspur. Savith eyes the happy-go-lucky elf, eyes curious as well, as he sends his reply. **Clear skies.** Sittign by the fire, they are, and Watersong wrapped in one of Savith's blankets.
**Just swimming. There's a baby boatback out there.** The Raft tribe's resident bit of flotsam bobs in the waves a few moments more, then wades up onto the beach, wringing out his hair and shivering just a little in the night air before he hunkers next to the fire. He tilts his head at Savith. **Have you talked to the chief yet?**
Watersong opens the blanket for Sandspur, "Care to join me? You wouldn't want to freeze. I'm sure Savith wouldn't mind if his blanket got a little wet. I'll hang it out to dry for him if he does."
Savith watches Sandspur makes his way toward teh firesie, shaking his head as the other elf draws near and asks about the chief."I admit that I hav enot, but I have been here but little, and so can wait longer." At Watersong's offer to Sandspur of his blanket, he blinks once. Emotions hard to read ont he Chosen, he replies in a flat even tone, "As you like."
Sandspur blinks and glances from side to side. Finally, he shrugs and shakes his head, simply stretching out full-length by the fire. **I'll dry instead. Then you can salt me and put me in the storage dens as well,** he open-sends, teasing. He plunks his chin down on his palm and regards Savith with grey eyes gone amber in the firelight. **Do you like it here? Do you think you'll stay?** There's an odd undercurrent to that open sending -- or perhaps just odd because foam-headed Sandspur rarely has an undercurrent of anything going through his mind. All his emotions tend to rise to the surface.
Watersong chuckles a little bit as she rewraps herself, "Promises, promises." She turns to listen to Savith's responce as she stretches out her legs and wiggles her toes near the fire.
Savith returns Sandspur's scurtiny firmly, with an unworried look. "I must say no," he replies. "I have my Orders,and once fullfilled, I must take my leave."
Though he makes no send, the look of disappointment on Sandspur's face gives away his opinion on that course of action. He switches to speech. "But it's such a long journey. Doesn't your bird have to rest some more?"
Watersong shushes Sandspur, "Chosen Savith has very many important things to do. His bondbird is very strong and I'm sure she is rested enough even if he had to leave at a moment's notice."
Sandspur looks puzzled. "'Chosen'?"
The disappointment from Sandspur makes Savith nearly chuckle. The expression ends up a smirk on his features, as he shakes his head softly. "Rest or not, My Lord's WIll is my own," he replies. He pauses as Watersong seems to chides Sandspur, and a brow quirks as he wonders just what Watersong knows about gliders and their bondbirds. After all, he made no mention as to what his hawk was called, at least, not to her. Sandspur's question recieves a nod. "Yes. I am Chosen of Blue Mountain, Chosen out of the rest to Protect, Provide, and Serve."
Watersong has been asking around about the glider Savith from other Rafters. She smiles as she listens to Savith explain what the Chosen do. "See it's very important."
Sandspur sighs pitiously. Even his sharp eartips seem to droop. "Will we get to hunt again before you leave?" he asks, his voice wistful.
Asking about, huh? Well, if she had been asking about, it's a miracle her view of him is as bright and pleasant as it is. Granted, he's been polite the last view times he was here, but still. There are too many in this holt that know of the horrorific things a Chosen can do that can spread rumors about him and his baby-snatching ways. Savith flicks a glance at Watersong, before replying to Sandspur, "Most certainly. I was planning a hunt during the day, for a manyfang to provde the tribe with." Like he said earlier, he does so hate to be a burden.
Watersong chose only to believe the good stuff she heard about him, putting the other stuff to misunderstanding and overactive imaginaitons. She smiles at Sandspur, "Maybe if you ask nicely Savith will take you with him."
Sandspur brightens slightly. He was hoping that they could hunt redbelly again, or something that would take just the two of them, but it was better than nothing. "You'll wake me, won't you?"
Good stuff? Like what? The brawl with Shadows where he tore up the wolfrider? The time he flew away with the nweborn Amber? Or what about the constant tailing of the glider refugee Larias? Or the time he nearly skewered an expectant mother with a spear while she was about to drop her child? So many 'good' things to say about Savith. Really, pray tell what good things were said about hte Chosen? After all, he's just playing with Amber and being nice to her when he visists so later he can steal her away and make her thing it was her choice. He nods to Sandspur, "I shall, if you are within send's reach, but I do not think you should join me on a hunt for manyfang. It is a dangerous hunt, to say the least." And Winnowill would BEAT him if he screwed up Raft relations. "If that hunt turns up nothing, I would be willing to hunt redbelly with you again, however."
Well how good a hunter of manyfang he is for one and there is other good stuff to be said about Savith, Watersong just can't remember it right now, not that she ever let that bother her. She nods approvingly and keeps quiet for once as the subject is about hunting something she doesn't know much about.
Sandspur actually sulks a little. "I've hunted manytooth before. Are you planning to fly out and take one on your own?" His eyes light suddenly, sparking excitement, and he leans towards Savith so far he almost unbalances. "Are you hunting from birdback?"
As Watersong stays quiet, Savith focuses upon Sandspur, the excited youth getting a smirk. "I am, indeed," he replies. "To both, hunting manyfang alone, and hunting from birdback. It is the way way to bring in the catch."
Sandspur all but has his chin on Savith's knee at this point. "You know, I don't weigh all that much and Watersong *did* say your bird is strong..."
Savith eyes Sandspur as he practically puts his chin on his knee. But the Chosen refrains from pulling back, or making any sort of motions. Rather, Savith just regard him and replies, "It is not your weight the concerns me, but rather your safety. I would have to divide my attention between you and the hunt. Something that could get us both killed."
Watersong continues to listen attentively to the two males talk about hunting manyteeth. She yawns a little and covers her mouth with her hands before she snuggles down into the blanket that Savith has lent her.
Sandspur sighs and wishes he was better at this cajoling business, but this is as good as he gets at clever speaking. "What? I would fall off into the water at worst."
"And into the mouth of the manyfang, at best," Savith replies, shaking his head. "It is a risk I can not take. I will not hunt manyfang with you astride my bird." Of course, that says nothing about just flying about on the bird's back...
Watersong looks to Sandspur, "You're hide doesn't need any more scars on it Sandspur."
Sandspur blinks and looks down at his scarred chest. Oh yes, those. Well, it is true that he doesn't have that much hide left, but still...flying! With Savith! On the bird! Waaah! All the same, he heroically refrains from kicking the sand and going into a full-on pout. "Oh, very well. I'm not going to hope you come back empty-handed, Savith. And I'd still like to know when you leave."
Savith nods, and is rather glad Sadspur didn't ask for a joy ride. His orders to be polite might have forced him to say yes. There's little danger in it, after all.. At least, none for Sandspur. Saviht, on the other hand, would have immediately been assumed to be flying away with Sandspur... Okay, so Savith would have said no anyway, but STILL! He'd have thought about it, and it's the thought that counts, right? "I'll send for you, or you can listen for my whislte. It's loud enough to be heard clearly for quite a distance."
Watersong smiles and nods, "I hope you have a good hunt Savith and come back with as big a manyfang that your bird can carry." She looks up, "Still it would be nice to ride up in the cloud. Not that I would want to Savith. It would be nice, but I would perfer to keep my feet on the ground."
Sandspur rests his head on folded arms and sighs deeply enough to stir his salt-and-water weighted hair off of his eye. "It must be exciting to fly, though, Watersong. And imagine how much of the world you could see from that height! It took me days and days to reach my island, but I'll be Savith could be there in an eight of hours."
Savith grins smirks, and turns his gaze back to the fire. Finally! His face shows some emotion. And that emotion is pride. Yeah. Flying is da bomb. He won't trade it for anything in the... okay, maybe ONE thing, but let's not go there. Not a pleasant place to be. INstead, Savith sits smugly, watching the fire eat at the logs.
Watersong shrugs, "Maybe so, but I like looking at the world from under the water. The sky is only blue because the water is blue."
Sandspur tilts his head to one side. "What?"
Savith's brows lift faintly a she sits silently and listens to the conversation. But his thoughts stray, and he finds himself cold despite teh flames, and so, a frown forms. He should go back to his bird's nest, and force himself to rest. Especially if he's going to be hunting tomorrow.
Watersong looks over at Sandspur, "I like looking up at the world, not down at it."
Sandspur still doesn't think it makes sense, but nods. "Savith...are you all right?"
Savith hmms, and looks over at Sandspur. He asks the question honestly to himself first, taking note of what's going on. No, he's not fine. How much will that new hatchling change while he's away? It's heartbreaking, despite the fearful thrill that meeting Firestorm was.But to Sandspur he nods, averting his eyes as he out rights lies, "I'm fine. I think I'll retire to my nest now, in preparation for my hunt in the morning." Oh, but standing is a good excuse to avert ones eyes, and so, he stands.
Sandspur sits up. "All right...sleep well." He grins. "Don't forget me!"
Watersong yawns and stands up, "I think I'll go back to the rafts as well." She unwraps and carefully folds the blanket, "Thank you for the use of your blanket Savith." Watersong holds it out to him.
Savith takes the blanket, with his HAND this time!, and nods. "Sleep well," he murmurs to Watersong, eyes cast down to hide the troubled glint to their hue. His mind collects the rest of the bedding he brought down to the beach, haivng thought to nap out here, by the lapping waves. "A difficult thing to do, I assure you, Sandspur," Savith replies, lifting himself from the ground as he collects all hs blankets.
Sandspur watches him go, then settles by the fire again. "You go ahead, Watersong. I'm not tired."
Savith flies to the cliff without another word, mind, body, and soul aching for his lifemate, and the feel of their two hatchlings in his arms. Seeing Firestorm today made him realize just how alone he is when out on a mission. Shivering with a sudden chill as he drops to a landing, he coos at WInddance, pats her gently and covers himself, half sitting half laying aginst his hawk. 'Larias... I hope you're dreaming well,' he thinks to himself, hoping she can hear him, as he closes his eyes and focres his body to rest.
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Long Lost Daughter
WEDNESDAY, MAY 26, 2004
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.
Raft Beach - Camp Area - Raft Holt
Beach and forest meets here, and the place is cleared for tents and other forms of shelter. Straight north, you have cliffs stooping down to sharp impassible reefs. Boulders dot the beach there, all the way back to the forest. The beach holds the same characteristic patterns here, as it does all over. White sand with trickles of black. Here, one can enjoy the shades of the palms and coconut trees, or play in the shallows of the water.
It is the dark of night, with little more than the two moons and a sparkling of star to light the way for one and all.
As the midday sun moves toward the western horizon, a Raft's visitor can be found returning from the waterfall side pool, where he cleaned off travel grime. That done, and in a clean uniform, Savith floats down from his bond bird's perch on the cliffs above. Last time Savith was here for a visit, Amber was born. Since then, the CHosen has stopped by twice, mostly for a hunting trip. Each time, he's managed to spend a few hours with the cubling, intent on whatever game she is playing at the time. It's dinner time, and not yet having completed his business here, Savith considers whistling for his bond, WInddance, and heading out over the ocean in search of a small manyfang to bring in for himself and the tribe. Peace offerings are always a good thing.
Watersong comes walking up to the campfire, her hips swaying back and forth. She has a plate of cooked meat and a waterskin. She smiles at the visitor as she sees him, "Calm tides, I thought you might be hungery, I brought you some manyteeth steaks."
Streak's steps are light as the elf darts up the beach, little puffs of sand rising with each footfall; her steps slow abruptly as she catches sight of the visitor and Watersong's approach. A few tentative steps bring her over towards the pair, her sending curious as she wonders, ** You are... Savith? **
Savith never expected such a welcome, and it causes the Chosen to blink a few times, then clear his throat. "I am, actually," he replies to Watersong. "I was going to go hunt, but it seems the kill has been brought to me." And cooked, his eyes notice. He almost grins. At the touch of his name, his face and eyes trns to Streak, as the CHosen nods. "I am."
Watersong smiles as she sashays over to Savith and holds out the plate for him. "Well here you go. You are a visitor after all. I also have a skin of wine if you'd like some. I have a cup and untencils as well for you." She looks over at Streak and smiles at her before turning back to Savith.
Streak's lip quirks wryly as she watches Watersong undulate over to the Glider, clasping her own hands behind her back as she studies him with unashamed eyes, lingering on the sheer height of the flier. ** Be welcome, then, as Watersong has offered... I'm Streak. **
From the tree line drifts a form that has become a somewhat normal sight for those of the tribe, the tall redhead known as Firestorm who has at last regained her full strength. Having been restored her weapons and given free run of beach and forest the half-breed has made many efforts to avoid those of the tribe and stay hidden, or at least alone. It's no secret she doesn't like many others, though she's often in the Chief's company these days. She returns now with a string of fish, spear in hand as always.
Savith lifts his hands for the plate, taking it from Watersong with a gentle nod. "Thank you," he says, "Utensils would be useful." He nods to Streak, and moves to find a seat to sit so he can eat. Firesong enters from behind him, and so Savith doesn't notice her yet.
Watersong opens up the bag at her side and takes out a clean cup, knife and fork, "Here you go Chosen Savith." She smiles at him as she hands over the knife and fork and then pours Savith a cup of wine. Watersong holds it out for him to take when he is ready.
A crease in her brow that settles as her eyes resolve the flicker of movement into Firestorm's entrance, and Streak's mouth tightens almost imperceptibly, tension edging into her limbs. ** I'll let Watersong tend to you--I must go, but I will carry news of your arrival to the others. ** She steps back gracefully, a smooth turn, then her light steps resume to carry her swiftly down the beach and into the sea.
Sandspur has connected.
Savith sends out to Strek quickly, **Your chief, Streak. I must speak with your chief, as soon as possible.** All else is forgotten as he sends.
Streak makes no reply to Savith's send save a wordless assent, her sleek form already diving into the waves.
Watersong opens up the bag at her side and takes out a clean cup, knife and fork, "Here you go Chosen Savith." She smiles at him as she hands over the knife and fork and then pours Savith a cup of wine. Watersong holds it out for him to take when he is ready. (re)
Message delievered, Savith settles back. Nothing left to do but wait. Turning his attention to the meal, Savith pulls out the small knife from his boot to eat with, cutting a bitesized piece and taking a taste. The wine, he glances at, and the cup is pulled from Watersong's hand... by nothing.
Watersong lets go of the cup as soon as she feels the invisible tugging on it. "If you need anything else, just ask Chosen." She smiles as she goes to find a seat, "So what brings you to Raft?"
Savith eyes Watersong a moment, before continuing to eat, sending so he doesn't have to break the movements. **I come at the Order of My Lord to speak with your Chief, as soon as is possible,** he sends. The wine cup is brought to his knee, and held there.
Sandspur climbs out of the surf, smiling broadly as ever. He pauses on the sand, regarding the gathered elves. A string of fresh-caught redbellies dangles over his shoulder. **Well, I'm back,** he open sends. He tilts his head to one side. Firestorm he remembers in passing, but Watersong seems new to him. **Greetings, Savith!**
Watersong looks over at Sandspur and waves to him, "Calm tides Sandspur. How are you doing?" SHe looks back to Savith and ohs, "I see secret chief type stuff."
** What do you want with my Chief? ** comes a defensive, almost posessive send from Firestorm. She eyes the back of the red head, only barely listening in to the conversation, completely missing reference to 'my Lord' and what it could possibly mean, or even the word 'Chosen', though that is a familiar word.
The chatter, even the greeting, Savith seems to only partially acknowledge. It is the send, the defensive feel to it, that catches his attention. Caught mid-bite, Savith turns to look at Firestorm. His head tilts, and he replies. **I want nothing. I must speak with him.**
Sandspur's return send is bright with silent laughter. **I swim away for three seasons, and this is all the greeting I get? Ah, well. I am well enough, thanks to him.** The dripping swimmer drops down on the sand.
Watersong chuckles, "What did you expect? Someone to faint away?" She asks with a smile, "Come join us." She slides over and pats the seat next to her.
Sandspur scoots over to Watersong, wracking his brain trying to remember her. **Thanks.** He holds up his catch. **Redbelly?**
Watersong smiles at Sandspur as she is Splash's and Crest's youngest and cutest baby sister. "Sure, would you like me to cook it up for you."
Firestorm regards Savith for long moments, taking in every angle and stitch of clothing on him and to him, slowly floating back towards the trees, more a motion out of habbit then anything else given she's still holding a spear, and there's a knife tucked into the waistline of her breachs.
Sandspur shrugs. **I've eaten. I had some left and didn't know who else I'd meet.**
Watersong smiles, "Well I'll cook it up and put it in a storage den for later."
She floats. Savith finishes that one last bite, and sets the plate down, one hand collecting the winecup balanced on his knee while the other returns his eating knife to his boot. Ignoring the two raft holters for the moment, Savith glides to his feet. Every detail of Firestorm is taken into account, even.. that knife. **The blade... I wonder where you got it,** he asks, mind soft, almost silken, and yet the interest he shows, that undivided attention, makes it seem.. inky.
Sandspur nods, still smiling. **Have you seen what Savith can do? He went hunting with me...he's fantastic!**
Watersong looks over to Savith and nods, "Yes I've seen what he can do. Magic is very amazing."
Firestorm bares teeth that show slight points, though not nearly as vicious looking as a wolfriders, as she puts her back to a tree. Though her mental voice does not stutter her body language nearly hums with fear. ** I found it. ** For someone so frightened she does well to try and hide it behind her hawk like gaze.
The damp mop of blond hair sprays water droplets all about as Sandspur shakes his head. **Not just the magic! He practically yanked me out of a manytooth's jaws!** An excited, half-jumbled send shares an image of dangling above a shadow in the water.
Watersong holds up her hands to fend off the droplets of water from Sandspur, "Lucky for you. You wouldn't look good with bite out of you."
Sandspur laughs out loud and flops back onto the cool sand. **I don't have that much hide left to sacrifice to manytooths anyway.** He indicates the rough scars along his front. **And I'd prefer not to anyway.**
Faint points? Almost glider tall. Hawkish eyes. So like... Wildstorm.... **Where,** Savith asks, a tremmor beginning in the pit of his own stomch as thoughts race in his mind. 'How old is she? Where did she come from? She's a half-breed, that much is certain, but... Red hair..grey eyes... GREY? Was Clearlight's eyes grey?' High ones... Savith can't remember. A bit of his soul, and he can't remember!
Watersong giggles as Sandspur flops back and she looks down at him, "I'd say not." She winces and raises her hand up to her lips, "Where did you get those scars?"
Sandspur rolls lazily onto one side. His hide and clothing are thuroughly coated in sand, which sparkles in the moonslight. **Drowned a manytooth. Just a little one, though.**
Firestorm faces down Savith for a moment, confused by the questions he asks, she wasn't there, she had nothing to do with what took place. The grip on her spear eases up but her guard doesn't waver as she responds to his question. ** A forest, or what was one a forest till it was destroyed. ** She peers at him now. A glider. Red hair. His eyes though, they're not her's, and even her features are more angled and sharp. Could he be? So many questions unanswered after all these turns.
Watersong turns around to face Sandspur, "How do you drowned a manytooth?"
Sandspur blinks, surprised by the question. **Some of them have to keep swimming in order to breathe. If you grapple one and hold it still, it drowns. They put up a fight though...and they've got skin like sand!**
**The Forbidden Grove,** Savith remarks, eyes studying the half glideress. **I know the are well. It is among the things I must speak to your chieftain about.** 'How long has she been here? Does Ekana know? Fuck! Where /is/ Ekana?' Savith's eyes narrow. Her features are SO angular! Clearlight's must have been.
Short red hair sways. ** I never knew it's name. **, her mental voice responds, still watching Savith, but oddly feeling more relaxed. He does not seem as threatening for some reason anymore, and so she drops her tension as well, even coming forward a little. The two are so alike they could almost be siblings, or perhaps father and daughter. ** I have told my Chief as much of that as I already knew, but I am sure he will welcome any new information you may have for him. **
Savith nods slowly. Everything but the eyes. Grey vs green. Grey eyes just EAT at Savith's memory, but he can't put his finger on it. **You glide,** he comments. **Not many do. It speaks of your hertitage.** Let's see what this does. If it's her, she'll remember... hopefully. Wolfblood does WEIRD things to glider minds.
Watersong ahs a little and nods, "I'd fight too if someone was trying to drown me. I'm glad you haven't gotten hurt to badly. Have you ever tried to drown any of the bigger ones?"
Firestorm stiffens, either through pride of that warriness again. ** I know my hertitage to well, and not well enough. ** What is he hunting for from her, if he does not know, does that mean it's not him, or will her own father not even remember his hatchling.
Sandspur goes eyes-wide and shakes his head again. **I'd wind up a shredded rag on the sand! The little one was a one-time thing. I didn't have a choice.** Again, that wide smile. **Even I know taking on a manytooth with no weapon means red water.**
Watersong smiles back at him, "Unless you planned it right. You could put some rope around a manytooth's tail and tie it to a rock to get him to stop mocing. Hunting manyteeth is very dangerous."
Savith hmms softly, then lifts to the air. **I understand. Come then. When last I saw you, you were a pup, and unable to fly. Let's see what time has taught you, Storm.** It HAS to be her! It hasn't to be... If Ekana lived... why couldn't Wildstorm?
**But not all of them drown if they don't move, just certain kinds. Try that with bottom-feeders and you'll just have a mad manytooth on your hands.** Sandspur watches curiously as the two fliers break off their intense glaring and Savith rises into the sky, wondering what's up.
Firestorm blinks, surprised, but then it dawns on her, you can see it in her eyes. 'It /is/ him!' ** Firestorm... father. ** she corrects, gently, softly, touching only his mind alone, none others need to hear this exchange or know the truth as she lifts into the air to follow him, straining her talents.
Watersong nods, "Probably, I'm a better cook and musician then I am a hunter." She over at the gliders as they life up and leave, "I wonder what that was all about?"
The locksend makes Savith tilt his head... Fire..storm. Makes sense. Most wolfriders change names as they grow older. Father... It is her. It /is/ her. And a shiver runs through him. **Firestorm,** he corrects, then replies. **Once Souldancer, always Savith.** Likewise locked to his daughter's mind, Savith doesn't need to share this with the others. He reaches out a hand, much like he did when he left them in the woods, to die. She can follow now.
Sandspur shrugs, frowning. He feels just a bit hurt that Savith didn't even look his way, but he supposes the visitor has other concerns.
Firestorm takes her father's hand.... and a sense of closure is reached. At long last she has a name, and a face, and .. confussion. He does not seem so horrible as her mother made him out to be, no sneering, no cruelty, but it's him, he knows her, he remembers. ** Savith... may I call you... father. Please? ** she asks him in locksend, her soul yearning for that closeness that only one other would know, but then Firewater isn't here to protect the young elfess.
Watersong smiles at Sandspur, "Would you like to go swimming with me at the Waterfall?"
The shiver settles into a lump at his throat as Firestorm takes his hand. She's alive. All his horrific nightmares, all his guilt... relieved. SHe's alive, and she... she doesn't hate. What hint of warm glimmers into those green green eyes. A tiny tiny smile forms. In locksend, he replies, **Father... you may.** He can't held back the memory of that last time she called him that... when he herd her crying it at the top of her lungs as he left them in the forst.
Sandspur looks over to Watersong and nods, his sunny smile breaking out over his features again. Company is company, after all, and there are other kinds of magic.
Watersong smiles as she holds out a hand to help Sandspur up.
Sandspur lets the pretty one draw him to his feet. "You...were around when I was last here, weren't you? You remember me?"
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.
Raft Beach - Camp Area - Raft Holt
Beach and forest meets here, and the place is cleared for tents and other forms of shelter. Straight north, you have cliffs stooping down to sharp impassible reefs. Boulders dot the beach there, all the way back to the forest. The beach holds the same characteristic patterns here, as it does all over. White sand with trickles of black. Here, one can enjoy the shades of the palms and coconut trees, or play in the shallows of the water.
It is the dark of night, with little more than the two moons and a sparkling of star to light the way for one and all.
As the midday sun moves toward the western horizon, a Raft's visitor can be found returning from the waterfall side pool, where he cleaned off travel grime. That done, and in a clean uniform, Savith floats down from his bond bird's perch on the cliffs above. Last time Savith was here for a visit, Amber was born. Since then, the CHosen has stopped by twice, mostly for a hunting trip. Each time, he's managed to spend a few hours with the cubling, intent on whatever game she is playing at the time. It's dinner time, and not yet having completed his business here, Savith considers whistling for his bond, WInddance, and heading out over the ocean in search of a small manyfang to bring in for himself and the tribe. Peace offerings are always a good thing.
Watersong comes walking up to the campfire, her hips swaying back and forth. She has a plate of cooked meat and a waterskin. She smiles at the visitor as she sees him, "Calm tides, I thought you might be hungery, I brought you some manyteeth steaks."
Streak's steps are light as the elf darts up the beach, little puffs of sand rising with each footfall; her steps slow abruptly as she catches sight of the visitor and Watersong's approach. A few tentative steps bring her over towards the pair, her sending curious as she wonders, ** You are... Savith? **
Savith never expected such a welcome, and it causes the Chosen to blink a few times, then clear his throat. "I am, actually," he replies to Watersong. "I was going to go hunt, but it seems the kill has been brought to me." And cooked, his eyes notice. He almost grins. At the touch of his name, his face and eyes trns to Streak, as the CHosen nods. "I am."
Watersong smiles as she sashays over to Savith and holds out the plate for him. "Well here you go. You are a visitor after all. I also have a skin of wine if you'd like some. I have a cup and untencils as well for you." She looks over at Streak and smiles at her before turning back to Savith.
Streak's lip quirks wryly as she watches Watersong undulate over to the Glider, clasping her own hands behind her back as she studies him with unashamed eyes, lingering on the sheer height of the flier. ** Be welcome, then, as Watersong has offered... I'm Streak. **
From the tree line drifts a form that has become a somewhat normal sight for those of the tribe, the tall redhead known as Firestorm who has at last regained her full strength. Having been restored her weapons and given free run of beach and forest the half-breed has made many efforts to avoid those of the tribe and stay hidden, or at least alone. It's no secret she doesn't like many others, though she's often in the Chief's company these days. She returns now with a string of fish, spear in hand as always.
Savith lifts his hands for the plate, taking it from Watersong with a gentle nod. "Thank you," he says, "Utensils would be useful." He nods to Streak, and moves to find a seat to sit so he can eat. Firesong enters from behind him, and so Savith doesn't notice her yet.
Watersong opens up the bag at her side and takes out a clean cup, knife and fork, "Here you go Chosen Savith." She smiles at him as she hands over the knife and fork and then pours Savith a cup of wine. Watersong holds it out for him to take when he is ready.
A crease in her brow that settles as her eyes resolve the flicker of movement into Firestorm's entrance, and Streak's mouth tightens almost imperceptibly, tension edging into her limbs. ** I'll let Watersong tend to you--I must go, but I will carry news of your arrival to the others. ** She steps back gracefully, a smooth turn, then her light steps resume to carry her swiftly down the beach and into the sea.
Sandspur has connected.
Savith sends out to Strek quickly, **Your chief, Streak. I must speak with your chief, as soon as possible.** All else is forgotten as he sends.
Streak makes no reply to Savith's send save a wordless assent, her sleek form already diving into the waves.
Watersong opens up the bag at her side and takes out a clean cup, knife and fork, "Here you go Chosen Savith." She smiles at him as she hands over the knife and fork and then pours Savith a cup of wine. Watersong holds it out for him to take when he is ready. (re)
Message delievered, Savith settles back. Nothing left to do but wait. Turning his attention to the meal, Savith pulls out the small knife from his boot to eat with, cutting a bitesized piece and taking a taste. The wine, he glances at, and the cup is pulled from Watersong's hand... by nothing.
Watersong lets go of the cup as soon as she feels the invisible tugging on it. "If you need anything else, just ask Chosen." She smiles as she goes to find a seat, "So what brings you to Raft?"
Savith eyes Watersong a moment, before continuing to eat, sending so he doesn't have to break the movements. **I come at the Order of My Lord to speak with your Chief, as soon as is possible,** he sends. The wine cup is brought to his knee, and held there.
Sandspur climbs out of the surf, smiling broadly as ever. He pauses on the sand, regarding the gathered elves. A string of fresh-caught redbellies dangles over his shoulder. **Well, I'm back,** he open sends. He tilts his head to one side. Firestorm he remembers in passing, but Watersong seems new to him. **Greetings, Savith!**
Watersong looks over at Sandspur and waves to him, "Calm tides Sandspur. How are you doing?" SHe looks back to Savith and ohs, "I see secret chief type stuff."
** What do you want with my Chief? ** comes a defensive, almost posessive send from Firestorm. She eyes the back of the red head, only barely listening in to the conversation, completely missing reference to 'my Lord' and what it could possibly mean, or even the word 'Chosen', though that is a familiar word.
The chatter, even the greeting, Savith seems to only partially acknowledge. It is the send, the defensive feel to it, that catches his attention. Caught mid-bite, Savith turns to look at Firestorm. His head tilts, and he replies. **I want nothing. I must speak with him.**
Sandspur's return send is bright with silent laughter. **I swim away for three seasons, and this is all the greeting I get? Ah, well. I am well enough, thanks to him.** The dripping swimmer drops down on the sand.
Watersong chuckles, "What did you expect? Someone to faint away?" She asks with a smile, "Come join us." She slides over and pats the seat next to her.
Sandspur scoots over to Watersong, wracking his brain trying to remember her. **Thanks.** He holds up his catch. **Redbelly?**
Watersong smiles at Sandspur as she is Splash's and Crest's youngest and cutest baby sister. "Sure, would you like me to cook it up for you."
Firestorm regards Savith for long moments, taking in every angle and stitch of clothing on him and to him, slowly floating back towards the trees, more a motion out of habbit then anything else given she's still holding a spear, and there's a knife tucked into the waistline of her breachs.
Sandspur shrugs. **I've eaten. I had some left and didn't know who else I'd meet.**
Watersong smiles, "Well I'll cook it up and put it in a storage den for later."
She floats. Savith finishes that one last bite, and sets the plate down, one hand collecting the winecup balanced on his knee while the other returns his eating knife to his boot. Ignoring the two raft holters for the moment, Savith glides to his feet. Every detail of Firestorm is taken into account, even.. that knife. **The blade... I wonder where you got it,** he asks, mind soft, almost silken, and yet the interest he shows, that undivided attention, makes it seem.. inky.
Sandspur nods, still smiling. **Have you seen what Savith can do? He went hunting with me...he's fantastic!**
Watersong looks over to Savith and nods, "Yes I've seen what he can do. Magic is very amazing."
Firestorm bares teeth that show slight points, though not nearly as vicious looking as a wolfriders, as she puts her back to a tree. Though her mental voice does not stutter her body language nearly hums with fear. ** I found it. ** For someone so frightened she does well to try and hide it behind her hawk like gaze.
The damp mop of blond hair sprays water droplets all about as Sandspur shakes his head. **Not just the magic! He practically yanked me out of a manytooth's jaws!** An excited, half-jumbled send shares an image of dangling above a shadow in the water.
Watersong holds up her hands to fend off the droplets of water from Sandspur, "Lucky for you. You wouldn't look good with bite out of you."
Sandspur laughs out loud and flops back onto the cool sand. **I don't have that much hide left to sacrifice to manytooths anyway.** He indicates the rough scars along his front. **And I'd prefer not to anyway.**
Faint points? Almost glider tall. Hawkish eyes. So like... Wildstorm.... **Where,** Savith asks, a tremmor beginning in the pit of his own stomch as thoughts race in his mind. 'How old is she? Where did she come from? She's a half-breed, that much is certain, but... Red hair..grey eyes... GREY? Was Clearlight's eyes grey?' High ones... Savith can't remember. A bit of his soul, and he can't remember!
Watersong giggles as Sandspur flops back and she looks down at him, "I'd say not." She winces and raises her hand up to her lips, "Where did you get those scars?"
Sandspur rolls lazily onto one side. His hide and clothing are thuroughly coated in sand, which sparkles in the moonslight. **Drowned a manytooth. Just a little one, though.**
Firestorm faces down Savith for a moment, confused by the questions he asks, she wasn't there, she had nothing to do with what took place. The grip on her spear eases up but her guard doesn't waver as she responds to his question. ** A forest, or what was one a forest till it was destroyed. ** She peers at him now. A glider. Red hair. His eyes though, they're not her's, and even her features are more angled and sharp. Could he be? So many questions unanswered after all these turns.
Watersong turns around to face Sandspur, "How do you drowned a manytooth?"
Sandspur blinks, surprised by the question. **Some of them have to keep swimming in order to breathe. If you grapple one and hold it still, it drowns. They put up a fight though...and they've got skin like sand!**
**The Forbidden Grove,** Savith remarks, eyes studying the half glideress. **I know the are well. It is among the things I must speak to your chieftain about.** 'How long has she been here? Does Ekana know? Fuck! Where /is/ Ekana?' Savith's eyes narrow. Her features are SO angular! Clearlight's must have been.
Short red hair sways. ** I never knew it's name. **, her mental voice responds, still watching Savith, but oddly feeling more relaxed. He does not seem as threatening for some reason anymore, and so she drops her tension as well, even coming forward a little. The two are so alike they could almost be siblings, or perhaps father and daughter. ** I have told my Chief as much of that as I already knew, but I am sure he will welcome any new information you may have for him. **
Savith nods slowly. Everything but the eyes. Grey vs green. Grey eyes just EAT at Savith's memory, but he can't put his finger on it. **You glide,** he comments. **Not many do. It speaks of your hertitage.** Let's see what this does. If it's her, she'll remember... hopefully. Wolfblood does WEIRD things to glider minds.
Watersong ahs a little and nods, "I'd fight too if someone was trying to drown me. I'm glad you haven't gotten hurt to badly. Have you ever tried to drown any of the bigger ones?"
Firestorm stiffens, either through pride of that warriness again. ** I know my hertitage to well, and not well enough. ** What is he hunting for from her, if he does not know, does that mean it's not him, or will her own father not even remember his hatchling.
Sandspur goes eyes-wide and shakes his head again. **I'd wind up a shredded rag on the sand! The little one was a one-time thing. I didn't have a choice.** Again, that wide smile. **Even I know taking on a manytooth with no weapon means red water.**
Watersong smiles back at him, "Unless you planned it right. You could put some rope around a manytooth's tail and tie it to a rock to get him to stop mocing. Hunting manyteeth is very dangerous."
Savith hmms softly, then lifts to the air. **I understand. Come then. When last I saw you, you were a pup, and unable to fly. Let's see what time has taught you, Storm.** It HAS to be her! It hasn't to be... If Ekana lived... why couldn't Wildstorm?
**But not all of them drown if they don't move, just certain kinds. Try that with bottom-feeders and you'll just have a mad manytooth on your hands.** Sandspur watches curiously as the two fliers break off their intense glaring and Savith rises into the sky, wondering what's up.
Firestorm blinks, surprised, but then it dawns on her, you can see it in her eyes. 'It /is/ him!' ** Firestorm... father. ** she corrects, gently, softly, touching only his mind alone, none others need to hear this exchange or know the truth as she lifts into the air to follow him, straining her talents.
Watersong nods, "Probably, I'm a better cook and musician then I am a hunter." She over at the gliders as they life up and leave, "I wonder what that was all about?"
The locksend makes Savith tilt his head... Fire..storm. Makes sense. Most wolfriders change names as they grow older. Father... It is her. It /is/ her. And a shiver runs through him. **Firestorm,** he corrects, then replies. **Once Souldancer, always Savith.** Likewise locked to his daughter's mind, Savith doesn't need to share this with the others. He reaches out a hand, much like he did when he left them in the woods, to die. She can follow now.
Sandspur shrugs, frowning. He feels just a bit hurt that Savith didn't even look his way, but he supposes the visitor has other concerns.
Firestorm takes her father's hand.... and a sense of closure is reached. At long last she has a name, and a face, and .. confussion. He does not seem so horrible as her mother made him out to be, no sneering, no cruelty, but it's him, he knows her, he remembers. ** Savith... may I call you... father. Please? ** she asks him in locksend, her soul yearning for that closeness that only one other would know, but then Firewater isn't here to protect the young elfess.
Watersong smiles at Sandspur, "Would you like to go swimming with me at the Waterfall?"
The shiver settles into a lump at his throat as Firestorm takes his hand. She's alive. All his horrific nightmares, all his guilt... relieved. SHe's alive, and she... she doesn't hate. What hint of warm glimmers into those green green eyes. A tiny tiny smile forms. In locksend, he replies, **Father... you may.** He can't held back the memory of that last time she called him that... when he herd her crying it at the top of her lungs as he left them in the forst.
Sandspur looks over to Watersong and nods, his sunny smile breaking out over his features again. Company is company, after all, and there are other kinds of magic.
Watersong smiles as she holds out a hand to help Sandspur up.
Sandspur lets the pretty one draw him to his feet. "You...were around when I was last here, weren't you? You remember me?"
Saturday, May 22, 2004
Fallen Lord
SATURDAY, MAY 22, 2004
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.
Main Hall
The room rises up round, walls idle in their shape, with little regard to gravity, and fluid stone columns drip from the ceiling to floor, curving and twisting into deep blue shadows. The massive room is dim, lit only at the far side, where rises the skeleton of a great bird, hovering protectively over the throne of Blue Mountain's Lord. Deep, wide stairs rise up to greet the throne, stopping many feet below, leaving no evident manner of ascending the seat. From time to time, elves flit in and out, through hallways and through narrow, holes in the walls, high above the floor.
Every so often, Savith grins faintly as flickering emotions from his lifemate come to him. The joys of a new child. Ah, so wonderful. But then, it's right back to that sour 'all-business' look. At least, until the next time he grins slightly.
Winnowill tenses in her seat, while the feeling of magical energies being summoned and drawn thrums through the hall. Its as if the air goes thicker for a moment.
Well, that certainly gets Savith's attention. The faint grin vanishes, as he turns his head sharply to his Lord. He floats an inch closer, waiting.
A slight smile plays over the Lord's lips. One that any Chosen would know means someone somewhere is soon to be in very much pain.
The smile makes Savith swallow. Oh boy. And his soul, unbidden, checks on another part of itself. Everything's fine there? Thank the High Ones.
Winnowill breathes in a gasp.. what the??!?!
As Winnowill gasps, Savith tenses. His mind opens, waiting and ready for a thought from his Lord, anything, an order or something, to tell him what he must do, what is happening, how he can do Her Will.
Winnowill furrows her brow, more energy focusing and directing.. sweat breaks out on her brow.
And little klaxons go off in Savith's mind. Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! Something's got the Lord working hard, but now it's clear to Savith: this something is not near by. He sends to the kitchen, to have a fresh pitcher of cool clear water brought: NOW.
Winnowill gasps awake, her eyes wide. She clutches for something, and finds nothing. She teeters, and falls, tumbling down th steps of her Throne.
ACK!! Seeing Winnowill fall, Savith drops like a stone, hoping to gather up his fallen Lord before she can fall all the way to the floor. And this, just as the kitchen server flies in pitcher and goblet on a tray.
Winnowill falls into Savith;s arms, a shocked expression on her face. She mutters.. "What?" A moment later she regains herself. And anger steeples her brow. "Gather the Chosen, NOW."
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.
Main Hall
The room rises up round, walls idle in their shape, with little regard to gravity, and fluid stone columns drip from the ceiling to floor, curving and twisting into deep blue shadows. The massive room is dim, lit only at the far side, where rises the skeleton of a great bird, hovering protectively over the throne of Blue Mountain's Lord. Deep, wide stairs rise up to greet the throne, stopping many feet below, leaving no evident manner of ascending the seat. From time to time, elves flit in and out, through hallways and through narrow, holes in the walls, high above the floor.
Every so often, Savith grins faintly as flickering emotions from his lifemate come to him. The joys of a new child. Ah, so wonderful. But then, it's right back to that sour 'all-business' look. At least, until the next time he grins slightly.
Winnowill tenses in her seat, while the feeling of magical energies being summoned and drawn thrums through the hall. Its as if the air goes thicker for a moment.
Well, that certainly gets Savith's attention. The faint grin vanishes, as he turns his head sharply to his Lord. He floats an inch closer, waiting.
A slight smile plays over the Lord's lips. One that any Chosen would know means someone somewhere is soon to be in very much pain.
The smile makes Savith swallow. Oh boy. And his soul, unbidden, checks on another part of itself. Everything's fine there? Thank the High Ones.
Winnowill breathes in a gasp.. what the??!?!
As Winnowill gasps, Savith tenses. His mind opens, waiting and ready for a thought from his Lord, anything, an order or something, to tell him what he must do, what is happening, how he can do Her Will.
Winnowill furrows her brow, more energy focusing and directing.. sweat breaks out on her brow.
And little klaxons go off in Savith's mind. Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! Something's got the Lord working hard, but now it's clear to Savith: this something is not near by. He sends to the kitchen, to have a fresh pitcher of cool clear water brought: NOW.
Winnowill gasps awake, her eyes wide. She clutches for something, and finds nothing. She teeters, and falls, tumbling down th steps of her Throne.
ACK!! Seeing Winnowill fall, Savith drops like a stone, hoping to gather up his fallen Lord before she can fall all the way to the floor. And this, just as the kitchen server flies in pitcher and goblet on a tray.
Winnowill falls into Savith;s arms, a shocked expression on her face. She mutters.. "What?" A moment later she regains herself. And anger steeples her brow. "Gather the Chosen, NOW."
Monday, March 15, 2004
Roller Coaster Emotions
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.
Rock Garden
Hidden lights weave tangled shadows in the frozen beauty of the gardens. A dim memory of the dappled play of sunlight through leaves, the patches of light reflect off manycolored stone shapes that echo the essence of trees and bushes and tangled vines; and plants whose like has never been seen on the world of Two Moons.
Several reaching pillars sprout branchlike tendrils that reach for walls and ceiling as if to support them. Clusters of smaller shapes, bringing to mind flowers and birds, emerge from the clinging branches - skillfully drawn forth from smaller veins of softly colored rock.
Seats shaped like crouched animals, beaked and taloned, have been covered with soft furs to invite to restful contemplation of the gardens. The distant walls of the garden appears as an interlaced mass of entwined rock, forming loops and mazes, scattered with random bulbs bursting with the promise of leaves, or flowers..or other things.
Drafts can be felt from deep within the walls, hinting at hidden shafts and openings.
Now that Elian's no longer the Chosen toy-du-jour, he's actually got free time. And time to rest, even! So a few weeks later, between the food-intensive environment of the kitchen and the constant workload of the Chosen - damn, he's looking good, even if he's still a tall scrawny sod. The crow's feet have retreated slightly, and he's actually playing in the rock garden, trying to catch and throw a small ball on the end of his everpresent broom. Weird. But which end? The stick side or the bristle side?
Savith was visiting his mother, you know, the one that was around, and even left Rosendo in her care. Though not on active Duty at the moment, as Head CHosen,
Savith is ever on call, and so must be ready to fly at a moment's notice. With mate currently seeing to Tsoran and unvavailable to care for the child, Savith is left with few otions. ONe of which is take the boy to work, which never really works out the way Savith needs it to. FLying in from the Rose Garden, CHosen spots birth father. Recalling the odd conversation with Malene the other day, Savith isn't quite sure how to approach Elian. Options again: Everyone knows they are family, even Winnowill declared it, and so he could be cruel and start calling Elian father and be all nice and stuff to get in under the armor and...
The bristle side. He's not THAT good. LOL He should have lessons then. Hey, he's comfortable with this. Unlike fatherhood, huh? In fact, Elian's given up on fatherhood altogether. Last he knew, Savith was denying it vehemently and using every available opportunity to try and twist the knife - which seems a little contradictory, but very little of the situation makes sense anyway. So he's just letting it pass, and keeping his love for his son deep down with everything else, hiding it behind the half-smile, and the yelp that comes as he loses control and the ball bounces away. He runs after it, vaulting over a bench and "sweeping" it up with the bristles, then erks as he straightens up and spots Savith. Oh, don't mind him, just the crazy kitchen servant at play again. "Clear skies, Chosen..."
Savith lifts a brow as Elian loses the ball and goes scurrying after it. "Interesting game," Savith comments as the shaper greets him. "I'll have to see Rosendo try it." And then a smirk, and Savith makes a little circle with a finger, "But with the other end, of course." Well, as far as Fatherhood goes, Savith had given up on it too, given that he did Elian and Tarek twenty times worse than they did him. He made SURE they knew it was HE that did the leaving. It killed one of hte girls too. Rosendo has been a saving grace, though it reopenned many wounds. At least the centuries old infections are starting to drain?
Elian chuckles, and with a familiar twist, spins the broom around the ball before flipping it up in the air and snatching it. "A habit I picked up, from my time amongst the Chosen, I've grown rather fond of this tool. How can I help you, Savith? I'm not on Duty right now, but if you want me to send to the kitchen for something, I wouldn't mind." Ahh, but Elian doesn't know this - after all, baby boy has been VERY forthcoming about his past, but he can't pick up EVERYTHING...
Savith purses his lips lightly, but shakes his head. "I don't need anything," he replies, lifting a hand as if to stay Elian from going anywhere. "Take your rest as you can." Look! A responsible Savvy! "We have a similar training tool. It has been a long time since I've had to impliment them, so thank you for reminding me of it."
Elian tilts his head curiously, tucking the broom under an arm with pursed lips. "Oh? I hadn't realized there were other tools available... what does it look like? Where do you keep them? I've only seen the Chosen from the end perspective, of course, I've never seen that side of things, and Lord Winnowill DID want me to understand them completely..."
Rock Garden
Hidden lights weave tangled shadows in the frozen beauty of the gardens. A dim memory of the dappled play of sunlight through leaves, the patches of light reflect off manycolored stone shapes that echo the essence of trees and bushes and tangled vines; and plants whose like has never been seen on the world of Two Moons.
Several reaching pillars sprout branchlike tendrils that reach for walls and ceiling as if to support them. Clusters of smaller shapes, bringing to mind flowers and birds, emerge from the clinging branches - skillfully drawn forth from smaller veins of softly colored rock.
Seats shaped like crouched animals, beaked and taloned, have been covered with soft furs to invite to restful contemplation of the gardens. The distant walls of the garden appears as an interlaced mass of entwined rock, forming loops and mazes, scattered with random bulbs bursting with the promise of leaves, or flowers..or other things.
Drafts can be felt from deep within the walls, hinting at hidden shafts and openings.
Now that Elian's no longer the Chosen toy-du-jour, he's actually got free time. And time to rest, even! So a few weeks later, between the food-intensive environment of the kitchen and the constant workload of the Chosen - damn, he's looking good, even if he's still a tall scrawny sod. The crow's feet have retreated slightly, and he's actually playing in the rock garden, trying to catch and throw a small ball on the end of his everpresent broom. Weird. But which end? The stick side or the bristle side?
Savith was visiting his mother, you know, the one that was around, and even left Rosendo in her care. Though not on active Duty at the moment, as Head CHosen,
Savith is ever on call, and so must be ready to fly at a moment's notice. With mate currently seeing to Tsoran and unvavailable to care for the child, Savith is left with few otions. ONe of which is take the boy to work, which never really works out the way Savith needs it to. FLying in from the Rose Garden, CHosen spots birth father. Recalling the odd conversation with Malene the other day, Savith isn't quite sure how to approach Elian. Options again: Everyone knows they are family, even Winnowill declared it, and so he could be cruel and start calling Elian father and be all nice and stuff to get in under the armor and...
The bristle side. He's not THAT good. LOL He should have lessons then. Hey, he's comfortable with this. Unlike fatherhood, huh? In fact, Elian's given up on fatherhood altogether. Last he knew, Savith was denying it vehemently and using every available opportunity to try and twist the knife - which seems a little contradictory, but very little of the situation makes sense anyway. So he's just letting it pass, and keeping his love for his son deep down with everything else, hiding it behind the half-smile, and the yelp that comes as he loses control and the ball bounces away. He runs after it, vaulting over a bench and "sweeping" it up with the bristles, then erks as he straightens up and spots Savith. Oh, don't mind him, just the crazy kitchen servant at play again. "Clear skies, Chosen..."
Savith lifts a brow as Elian loses the ball and goes scurrying after it. "Interesting game," Savith comments as the shaper greets him. "I'll have to see Rosendo try it." And then a smirk, and Savith makes a little circle with a finger, "But with the other end, of course." Well, as far as Fatherhood goes, Savith had given up on it too, given that he did Elian and Tarek twenty times worse than they did him. He made SURE they knew it was HE that did the leaving. It killed one of hte girls too. Rosendo has been a saving grace, though it reopenned many wounds. At least the centuries old infections are starting to drain?
Elian chuckles, and with a familiar twist, spins the broom around the ball before flipping it up in the air and snatching it. "A habit I picked up, from my time amongst the Chosen, I've grown rather fond of this tool. How can I help you, Savith? I'm not on Duty right now, but if you want me to send to the kitchen for something, I wouldn't mind." Ahh, but Elian doesn't know this - after all, baby boy has been VERY forthcoming about his past, but he can't pick up EVERYTHING...
Savith purses his lips lightly, but shakes his head. "I don't need anything," he replies, lifting a hand as if to stay Elian from going anywhere. "Take your rest as you can." Look! A responsible Savvy! "We have a similar training tool. It has been a long time since I've had to impliment them, so thank you for reminding me of it."
Elian tilts his head curiously, tucking the broom under an arm with pursed lips. "Oh? I hadn't realized there were other tools available... what does it look like? Where do you keep them? I've only seen the Chosen from the end perspective, of course, I've never seen that side of things, and Lord Winnowill DID want me to understand them completely..."
Did She, now? Savith tilts his head, oh so very hawk-like, to study Elian. And his mind flickers out, checking on things, making sure his attention will not be needed, and if so, getting a vague sense of time until it will be. Things settled, the Chosen settles himself to the ground in front of Elian with little thought. "There are many tools used to train Chosen in matters of the hunt. Typically, they are kept where only a Chosen can get them, and if I can answer a question for so ancient a glider, I am ever ready to Serve." Turn the tables on ya, Pops. ;) A Chosen serves the Mountain. Double edged-knife though, so take care.
Elian half-smiles, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I wouldn't want to intrude on Chosen territory, though. It's all right, I'll stay with what I've got - after all, those are tools for the Chosen, they have a purpose. No one will miss this, on the other hand..." He nods to the broom with a chuckle. "It's served for a long time, but it's been dismissed without a thought, it's kind of sad but what else can we do? At least I've found a use for it now, even if it's not what one might expect." He holds the broom out, tossing the ball back up in the air and catching it handily in the bristles, carefully bouncing it against a nearby wall and catching it again on the flipside.
Savith watches the ball-bouncing. Hmm... with the right modifications, this could be a good catch-a-preserver type training. There's a half-grin! Wooo! Point: Elian! Savith grinned! Folding his arms over his chest, Savith just replies, "I said that their location was for a Chosen to know." But that does imply that only those being TRAINED for CHosen get to play with them. Though it is interesting to see how Elian has brought something with little current use into a state of usefulness. "But the broom is a good tool for you now, I think." Now, the quesiton is... does Savith up the anty and give the ball a flick with magic. To keep Elian on his toes... honest!
Tsoran drifts in, as is his habit silent as a shadow.
lian half-grins, almost unconsciously, as he upends the broom, concentration wavering as the ball balances on the ratty end. The ball is pretty ratty itself, for the record, just a bundle of rags tied tightly together. "Not being Chosen myself, I think... it's probably just as well..." Then he erks, as it drops off towards the floor, and snaps the broom around its axis, dropping to scoop it up just before it hits the floor. Surprisingly graceful, that. Maybe there IS something to this broom stuff? Nah. It's not Chosen training, after all.
Savith chuckles faintly as Elian nearly drops the ball, but does seem impressed, despite himself, at the shaper's moves. And again, the thought to see if actually calling the elf 'father' would upset him flickers to mind. After all, it made him uneasy whenever Ekana said it, and he would fire right back with a terse 'daughter'. OOh... gotta DROOL on those love-to-hate/hate-to-love relationships, huh?
Elian starts straightening up, then gahs again as the ball suddenly tips and drops to the floor. Whoops, lost control. Did he? The broom was steady as a rock, but... oh well. He doesn't seem too surprised, "sweeping" it up again and snagging it in his free hand. Let's see, wasn't Savith, Kureel's still eating, and... hm. "Clear skies, Tsoran," he says with a half-smile, not turning around. "I'm still learning, really," he adds to Savith, "but it passes the time."
Tsoran says "All it needs now is learning to watch your back at the same time, and you'll be all ready to join the Chosen." He drifts to the floor, nodding politely to the other Chosen. "Savith."
Savith snorts at Tsoran's comment. "Tsoran," he greets with a nod. Smirking as he replies, "Can't teach an old bird new tricks, Tsoran. This one'll never be a Chosen." Rosendo, on the other hand. MUHAHAHAH. Oh sorry. Fatherly pride rearing its head. Green eyes flicking back to Elian Savith lifts a brow, "YOu have free time? I'm glad to hear that." But for what evil
purpose is he glad? MUHAHAHHAHAHAH Oh sorry. Chosenly pride rearing its head.
lian chuckles, turning to look at Tsoran. "A broom has a lot of uses, but I don't think keeping an eye out is one of them. Unless you prop it against a door or something, so it clatters on the floor, but... a Chosen? I somehow doubt that, not being a floater and all, I'll ever manage to live up to your exacting standards. I'll just have to be content with who I am, that's all." He nods to Savith. "Not a lot, but my Duty rarely calls me when my shift is up anymore, only every once in a while. The kitchen staff is generally competent enough without my thumb-fingered help."
Tsoran murmurs. "Such a friendly fellow, isn't he. Well, I have a duty calling."
Savith watches as Tsoran so promptly leaves. A faint, cold, cruel, grin flashes across Savith's features while a rock shaper drifts through the area, on the way to the Cage. Did Savith arrange that? Surely not! He's a NICE Head Chosen. Glancing at Elian, Savith's grin fades to a smirk. "Well, perhaps, if you need something more to do, I can think of things."
Elian tilts his head and chuckles, partly at Savith's words and partly at Tsoran's abrupt passing-through. Go figure - he can never tell when Tsoran's settling in for a prolonged bout of- well, being Tsoran, or when he's just dropping by for a quickie. "I wouldn't want to interfere with my duties, really, but I thank you for the thought, Chosen. No, I just have enough time to rest, and without anyone to care for I have to take matters-" He glances down at the broom. "Into my own hands."
AH! THe perfect time to strike. As Elian opens himself for the attack, Savith takes it, cruelty flashing into those green eyes. "Entirely your own doing, that. Father." And that last word, so carefully spoken as Savith stands on the ground before Elian, arms crosses. Now, watch which way the knife twists.
Well, Elian can't always be on his guard... he half-smiles, looking up. "I know. What of your own
duties? I wouldn't want to keep you from them, I know things are always hectic for you." Aww, no blood? No cringe? Not that can be seen. That half-smile is awfully alien to Savith, but then again, it has been ever since that scene where Lord Winnowill decreed his punishment.
Ooh.. No reaction. Savith's eyes narrow faintly as the smirk fades to a cold thin line. "My duties are ever-present at the moment, but nothing too... hectic, as you said." Means Savith's got time to kill... so to speak. "Besides, if My Lord decreed you to learn more about hte Chosen, it is within my Duties to see to that, as I lead the Chosen now, don't you think?" Come on... where's the reaction? Where's the cringe?
What reaction? Maybe Elian doesn't care anymore. Wouldn't that be a trip? Or maybe he's just hiding it deep, down inside, with his true feel- nah, he just don't care, that's got to be it. He tilts his head, a hand absent-mindedly rubbing at his far arm. "I'm sure she didn't intend for me to interfere with the true Chosen's Duties, but - if you have any words of wisdom, I'd love to hear them."
Words of wisdom, hmm? Savith's eyes narrow to emerald chips, and his arms uncoil. It's slow, the circling Savith starts of Elian, like a hawk circling a patch of grass to drop and scoop up the ravvit in its talons. NO reaction? Bullshit. There's got to be a reaction. "One would think /you/ would have given those to me," he starts coldly lashing out with blame.
Elian sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as the broom drops, bristles grounding and leaning on the handle, turning to regard Savith almost gently. "I know you hurt, Savith, and I have apologized. There's nothing more I can do." There's that half-smile again. "I don't think this has anything to do with the Chosen, either, so I'll get back to my Duty and you to yours..."
Trolls shoot him from the sky! Elian's just ... not... REACTING! GAH! "True enough," Savith admits once the circuit is complete and he returns to face Elian. "What questions do you have about the Chosen that have been dying to have answered," he asks, a very faint sneer upon his features which the Head Chosen works to schools away.
Tsoran returns from his call to duty, obviously.
Hmmm, the rockgarden. Lost in thoughts, the ever-so smoothly moving elfess almost sleepwalks through the garden of rock, like a lost raindrop over skin. She is balancing a long-necked carafe on her small hips, and holding a tablet with four elegant goblets in the
other hand. Unlike other times where she simply walks in and out through a scene like a ghost, she notices this time the voices that seep through the garden. From far she calls herself back into this place, yet hesitating to walk into the scene between Elian and Savith, and even moreso that Tsoran appears. Not even hiding, she just remains standing where she is,
waiting, listening, watching.
Elian chuckles, shrugging a shoulder. "None that come to mind, though I do wonder about those training tools - you've already said they're for a Chosen to know, though, so I guess I'll just have to use my imagination." Fingers tap upon the broom, and he hooks it up, settling it over a shoulder. "Gone, but not forgotten," he remarks a little cryptically. "Is there anything you've ever wondered about the kitchen?" A true half-grin, as humor touches his expression. "That
you wouldn't regret finding out?"
Tsoran murmurs. "Such a pretty sight. I believe I shall not intrude."
Tsoran heads towards Around The Cage
Tsoran has left.
More's being said here than it seems, for Elian's words of gone, but not forgotten, recieve a
full-fledged sneer. "Unfortanely," he nearly growls back in reply, stepping from Elian one full step. Calm. Calm. You don't win if you react first. "The kitchen's business I have seen to. I doubt they would change anything since I was a youth." AHA!! Savith worked the kitchen's too! Ryn's here? She's not noticed, considering Savvy's back is to her.
Elian spreads his hand, ball tucked between thumb and palm. "Likely not, they didn't change much from what I'd remembered either. Some things really never do change, I guess." No, Ryn isn't noticed, considering Savith's doing his best to twist the knife and it's not... really working. But it certainly has Elian's attention, doesn't it? "Give my best to Rosendo and Larias, please? My Duty may not take all my time, but it does take most of the /useful/ time, I haven't had much opportunity to see anyone lately."
Things don't change. Right. And Savith's Lord of Blue Mountain. But it does give the Chosen the moment he needs to find calm again, and at the request to pass on things to beloved family, Savith grins. "Oh, most certainly Larias would love to see you in person. So no. Give her your 'best' all on your own," he says, though what he's not saying is... also important.
That's odd... usually, Savith would rather keep them nice and far away. Has something else happened? But in any case, Elian chuckles, nodding. "Should we cross paths, I will be sure and do so. Do you know where she's at, by any chance? Is she asleep?"
You locksend to Larias, Savith checks up on you. Where are you?
Savith flickers a locksend. Ah. There. "She is busy at her own Duties," Savith replies, and with Tsoran busy that means it's not with HIM. ;) "She should comes down here when she is done, if you'd like to wait." Cause right now, Savvy's got all day.
Tsoran drifts over to Ryn, paying no heed to the happy couple of Elian and Savith.
That's also odd. Usually, Savith would also rather keep nice and far away from Elian as well. The ex-shaper-ex-servant tilts his head. "If we happen to cross paths, I wouldn't mind at all. I do have my own Duties, but not for a time yet..."
Ryn flickers a smile at both Elian and Savith's ongoing, as well as Tsoran's arrival. Nodding, she lifts the carafe to fill one of the fine goblets with wine, holding out the tablet to Tsoran to pick it. "It's the freshest I could find, without the other servants thinning it too much", tells her soft voice, looking at Tsoran with slightly tilted head.
Well. That's what happens to an elf when his mate isn't given him her full attention. Strange strange things. Savith, hearing another voice, turns and finally spots Ryn. Hm...an audience. and no telling how long she'd been there either. Puckernuts. Turningback to Elian, Savith regains that grin, "I see. Well, do enjoy your rest." Playing nice! Honest!
Elian chuckles and nods. "Clear skies, Chosen." An audience? Well, what else is new? Might as well sit down, he's not going to start toying with the broom with Tsoran around. It's an Elian thing in any case...
Tsoran accepts the wine, smiling to Ryn. ** Thank you, my dear, it is appreciated. ** He glances over to Savith, and raises the goblet in a toast. ** Sure you won't join us in a drink, Brother? **
Savith turns his gaze to Tsoran. Wine. Hmm.. But having gotten as close to a farewell from Elian as Savith feels truely comfortable with, the Head Chosen drifts from the ground to fly over. **Half a glass only, Ryn,** he agrees.
Tsoran locksends ** You're a better elf than me, Brother. I'd have dropped him from the bridge by now. **
Tsoran's smile is replied with a smile as well, and as he looks over to Savith, she looks over to Elian, as if Tsoran's invitation was spoken out for Elian as well - just one her side. As the leader of the Chosen approaches her, she nods and fills half a goblet for him, holding the tablet out to him to grab his drink.
You sense in a locksend, Larias is inside the Mountain of course, being stoic and remaining calm, - where else would she feel nervous and wild, yet force herself to remain calm, cool and collected...
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith hmphs softly in reply. **I must lead by example, Brother.**
Elian shakes his head, smiling, to Ryn's invitation-by-proxy. Actually, he'd as soon slip away to his chambers the moment the opportunity presents itself... got things to think about, now.
You locksend to Larias, Savith seems... pleased you're remaining so calm, and given where you are to boot! Rock on Larias!
Tsoran sips his wine, making an appreciative sound.
Tsoran locksends ** And you do so most well. A quite suitable replacement for our poor distracted Kureel. **
You locksend ** The time's not right to beat him so, after all. ;)** Savith quips just before your next thought drifts to him, but when he does, he replies smartly, **Yes. Poor distracted Kureel. And yourself? I do hope my mate is not too distracting for you. ** to Tsoran.
Tsoran sends openly ** I am pleased that the gardens are still producing a sufficient amount of wine. One hears rumors the vines have been doing less wall of late. ** Tsoran regards Savith as he sends, somewhat thoughtfully.
Tsoran locksends ** Less a distraction to me than to herself, Brother. Perhaps it is time she was dismissed from my serivce. **
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith seems a bit pleased to hear that. **Yes. My mother is run tired with Rosendo's care. It is time for Larias to be a mother again.** A pause. **I shall see it she is dismissed.**
Tsoran locksends ** If you are confident of her mothering skills, I am agreeable with that. She does seem a touch wavering of temperament. **
You locksend ** There is only one way to learn to be a parent, Brother. I am confident that Rosendo needs both mother and father, though I shall see to this
temperament, if you would enlighten me with what you have seen. ** to Tsoran.
Savith carries on a brief locksend conversation with Tsoran, sipping at his wine. "Hmm... quite good. My thanks, Ryn." Elian is categorically ignored for now.
Must rethink plan of attack.
Categorically ignored, Elian slips away...
Tsoran glances in the direction of the disappearing Elian before turning his attention back on his companions.
[Mountain] Finding a way to knock down Door and Brace, Savith cackles.
[Mountain] Clinically Insane Larias tries on a new one too?
[Mountain] Categorically ignored, Elian braces the Door!
Tsoran locksends ** Such an ambivalent reaction to closeness, that one. Yearning for it in one moment, and fiercely fighting it the next. Living must her for any duration must be rather...stressful. **
[Mountain] Categorically ignored, Elian says, "She appreciates my... support."
[Mountain] Categorically ignored, Elian has been rock-hard for six thousand turns, there are some long-lasting effects that are well and truly appreciated by those in the know.
[Mountain] Phantom Tsoran just washes his mind out with soap.
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith Hmms softly. **Given how touch felt for her for so long, it is mostly understandable. It has been a long process to get her to show as much trust as she has.**
Ryn dips a slight bow with her head, holding her hand out to one of the benches, "Wouldn't you like to sit and rest for a while? This wine is not to be drunken
in haste." A warm smile comes to her lips as she says that. Whatever makes her so friendly today, she might also just want to give the two Chosen a moment of
peace.
You locksend to Larias, Savith almost wonders if your ears are burning as he talks about you.
[OOC] Ryn should have written Rest instead of Peace
[OOC] Tsoran says, "No peace for the wicked."
[OOC] Savith says, "And no rest for hte weary."
[OOC] Elian says, "And no escape for the bleeding."
Tsoran sends openly ** Thank you, Ryn, but duty calls again too soon. I do appreciate the moment of refreshment before returning to less cultured tasks. **
Tsoran locksends ** Trust... well, I suppose there is some use for it. She seemed quite worried about loosing yours. **
You sense in a locksend, Larias turns her attention to your mind, ** Hmm? ** She can feel the attention you are placing on her, though she doesn't know the why of
it.
Savith sips lightly, saying little as he savors the wine. But unliek Tsoran, Savith does take a seat on the offered bench. After a long moment of sending, he replies, "If you both are called elsewhere, it is understood." He nods to Tsoran, "A Chosen flies to Obey, after all."
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith smirks faintly, **Soulmates. Yes, losing my trust is something she fears greatly but not something to be lightly pulled at. It took more than turns to calm her so.** Of course it did! It tok his SOUL man.
Tsoran murmurs over his wine. "Obedience is a virtue. More should learn it."
You sense in a locksend, Tsoran whispers quiet softly against your mind. ** Is it worth the price? **
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith brushes at you in annoyance as you whisper luxeriously into his mind. **Hmph,** is the near-sound his mind seems to make at yours. **Go make asingle pass at the summit to see if Winddance is on her way, then go hunting. THe kitchen needs more work.** And then give Savith and Larias some alone time. ;)
Rock Garden
Hidden lights weave tangled shadows in the frozen beauty of the gardens. A dim memory of the dappled play of sunlight through leaves, the patches of light reflect off manycolored stone shapes that echo the essence of trees and bushes and tangled vines; and plants whose like has never been seen on the world of Two Moons.
Several reaching pillars sprout branchlike tendrils that reach for walls and ceiling as if to support them. Clusters of smaller shapes, bringing to mind flowers and birds, emerge from the clinging branches - skillfully drawn forth from smaller veins of softly colored rock.
Seats shaped like crouched animals, beaked and taloned, have been covered with soft furs to invite to restful contemplation of the gardens. The distant walls of the garden appears as an interlaced mass of entwined rock, forming loops and mazes, scattered with random bulbs bursting with the promise of leaves, or flowers..or other things.
Drafts can be felt from deep within the walls, hinting at hidden shafts and openings.
Now that Elian's no longer the Chosen toy-du-jour, he's actually got free time. And time to rest, even! So a few weeks later, between the food-intensive environment of the kitchen and the constant workload of the Chosen - damn, he's looking good, even if he's still a tall scrawny sod. The crow's feet have retreated slightly, and he's actually playing in the rock garden, trying to catch and throw a small ball on the end of his everpresent broom. Weird. But which end? The stick side or the bristle side?
Savith was visiting his mother, you know, the one that was around, and even left Rosendo in her care. Though not on active Duty at the moment, as Head CHosen,
Savith is ever on call, and so must be ready to fly at a moment's notice. With mate currently seeing to Tsoran and unvavailable to care for the child, Savith is left with few otions. ONe of which is take the boy to work, which never really works out the way Savith needs it to. FLying in from the Rose Garden, CHosen spots birth father. Recalling the odd conversation with Malene the other day, Savith isn't quite sure how to approach Elian. Options again: Everyone knows they are family, even Winnowill declared it, and so he could be cruel and start calling Elian father and be all nice and stuff to get in under the armor and...
The bristle side. He's not THAT good. LOL He should have lessons then. Hey, he's comfortable with this. Unlike fatherhood, huh? In fact, Elian's given up on fatherhood altogether. Last he knew, Savith was denying it vehemently and using every available opportunity to try and twist the knife - which seems a little contradictory, but very little of the situation makes sense anyway. So he's just letting it pass, and keeping his love for his son deep down with everything else, hiding it behind the half-smile, and the yelp that comes as he loses control and the ball bounces away. He runs after it, vaulting over a bench and "sweeping" it up with the bristles, then erks as he straightens up and spots Savith. Oh, don't mind him, just the crazy kitchen servant at play again. "Clear skies, Chosen..."
Savith lifts a brow as Elian loses the ball and goes scurrying after it. "Interesting game," Savith comments as the shaper greets him. "I'll have to see Rosendo try it." And then a smirk, and Savith makes a little circle with a finger, "But with the other end, of course." Well, as far as Fatherhood goes, Savith had given up on it too, given that he did Elian and Tarek twenty times worse than they did him. He made SURE they knew it was HE that did the leaving. It killed one of hte girls too. Rosendo has been a saving grace, though it reopenned many wounds. At least the centuries old infections are starting to drain?
Elian chuckles, and with a familiar twist, spins the broom around the ball before flipping it up in the air and snatching it. "A habit I picked up, from my time amongst the Chosen, I've grown rather fond of this tool. How can I help you, Savith? I'm not on Duty right now, but if you want me to send to the kitchen for something, I wouldn't mind." Ahh, but Elian doesn't know this - after all, baby boy has been VERY forthcoming about his past, but he can't pick up EVERYTHING...
Savith purses his lips lightly, but shakes his head. "I don't need anything," he replies, lifting a hand as if to stay Elian from going anywhere. "Take your rest as you can." Look! A responsible Savvy! "We have a similar training tool. It has been a long time since I've had to impliment them, so thank you for reminding me of it."
Elian tilts his head curiously, tucking the broom under an arm with pursed lips. "Oh? I hadn't realized there were other tools available... what does it look like? Where do you keep them? I've only seen the Chosen from the end perspective, of course, I've never seen that side of things, and Lord Winnowill DID want me to understand them completely..."
Did She, now? Savith tilts his head, oh so very hawk-like, to study Elian. And his mind flickers out, checking on things, making sure his attention will not be needed, and if so, getting a vague sense of time until it will be. Things settled, the Chosen settles himself to the ground in front of Elian with little thought. "There are many tools used to train Chosen in matters of the hunt. Typically, they are kept where only a Chosen can get them, and if I can answer a question for so ancient a glider, I am ever ready to Serve." Turn the tables on ya, Pops. ;) A Chosen serves the Mountain. Double edged-knife though, so take care.
Elian half-smiles, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I wouldn't want to intrude on Chosen territory, though. It's all right, I'll stay with what I've got - after all, those are tools for the Chosen, they have a purpose. No one will miss this, on the other hand..." He nods to the broom with a chuckle. "It's served for a long time, but it's been dismissed without a thought, it's kind of sad but what else can we do? At least I've found a use for it now, even if it's not what one might expect." He holds the broom out, tossing the ball back up in the air and catching it handily in the bristles, carefully bouncing it against a nearby wall and catching it again on the flipside.
Savith watches the ball-bouncing. Hmm... with the right modifications, this could be a good catch-a-preserver type training. There's a half-grin! Wooo! Point: Elian! Savith grinned! Folding his arms over his chest, Savith just replies, "I said that their location was for a Chosen to know." But that does imply that only those being TRAINED for CHosen get to play with them. Though it is interesting to see how Elian has brought something with little current use into a state of usefulness. "But the broom is a good tool for you now, I think." Now, the quesiton is... does Savith up the anty and give the ball a flick with magic. To keep Elian on his toes... honest!
Tsoran drifts in, as is his habit silent as a shadow.
Elian half-grins, almost unconsciously, as he upends the broom, concentration wavering as the ball balances on the ratty end. The ball is pretty ratty itself, for the record, just a bundle of rags tied tightly together. "Not being Chosen myself, I think... it's probably just as well..." Then he erks, as it drops off towards the floor, and snaps the broom around its axis, dropping to scoop it up just before it hits the floor. Surprisingly graceful, that. Maybe there IS something to this broom stuff? Nah. It's not Chosen training, after all.
Savith chuckles faintly as Elian nearly drops the ball, but does seem impressed, despite himself, at the shaper's moves. And again, the thought to see if actually calling the elf 'father' would upset him flickers to mind. After all, it made him uneasy whenever Ekana said it, and he would fire right back with a terse 'daughter'. OOh... gotta DROOL on those love-to-hate/hate-to-love relationships, huh?
Elian starts straightening up, then gahs again as the ball suddenly tips and drops to the floor. Whoops, lost control. Did he? The broom was steady as a rock, but... oh well. He doesn't seem too surprised, "sweeping" it up again and snagging it in his free hand. Let's see, wasn't Savith, Kureel's still eating, and... hm. "Clear skies, Tsoran," he says with a half-smile, not turning around. "I'm still learning, really," he adds to Savith, "but it passes the time."
Tsoran says "All it needs now is learning to watch your back at the same time, and you'll be all ready to join the Chosen." He drifts to the floor, nodding politely to the other Chosen. "Savith."
Savith snorts at Tsoran's comment. "Tsoran," he greets with a nod. Smirking as he replies, "Can't teach an old bird new tricks, Tsoran. This one'll never be a Chosen." Rosendo, on the other hand. MUHAHAHAH. Oh sorry. Fatherly pride rearing its head. Green eyes flicking back to Elian Savith lifts a brow, "YOu have free time? I'm glad to hear that." But for what evil
purpose is he glad? MUHAHAHHAHAHAH Oh sorry. Chosenly pride reating its head.
Elian chuckles, turning to look at Tsoran. "A broom has a lot of uses, but I don't think keeping an eye out is one of them. Unless you prop it against a door or something, so it clatters on the floor, but... a Chosen? I somehow doubt that, not being a floater and all, I'll ever manage to live up to your exacting standards. I'll just have to be content with who I am, that's all." He nods to Savith. "Not a lot, but my Duty rarely calls me when my shift is up anymore, only every once in a while. The kitchen staff is generally competent enough without my thumb-fingered help."
Tsoran murmurs. "Such a friendly fellow, isn't he. Well, I have a duty calling."
Savith watches as Tsoran so promptly leaves. A faint, cold, cruel, grin flashes across Savith's features while a rock shaper drifts through the area, on the way to the Cage. Did Savith arrange that? Surely not! He's a NICE Head Chosen. Glancing at Elian, Savith's grin fades to a smirk. "Well, perhaps, if you need something more to do, I can think of things."
Elian tilts his head and chuckles, partly at Savith's words and partly at Tsoran's abrupt passing-through. Go figure - he can never tell when Tsoran's settling in for a prolonged bout of- well, being Tsoran, or when he's just dropping by for a quickie. "I wouldn't want to interfere with my duties, really, but I thank you for the thought, Chosen. No, I just have enough time to rest, and without anyone to care for I have to take matters-" He glances down at the broom. "Into my own hands."
AH! THe perfect time to strike. As Elian opens himself for the attack, Savith takes it, cruelty flashing into those green eyes. "Entirely your own doing, that. Father." And that last word, so carefully spoken as Savith stands on the ground before Elian, arms crosses. Now, watch which way the knife twists.
Well, Elian can't always be on his guard... he half-smiles, looking up. "I know. What of your own
duties? I wouldn't want to keep you from them, I know things are always hectic for you." Aww, no blood? No cringe? Not that can be seen. That half-smile is awfully alien to Savith, but then again, it has been ever since that scene where Lord Winnowill decreed his punishment.
Ooh.. No reaction. Savith's eyes narrow faintly as the smirk fades to a cold thin line. "My duties are ever-present at the moment, but nothing too... hectic, as you said." Means Savith's got time to kill... so to speak. "Besides, if My Lord decreed you to learn more about hte Chosen, it is within my Duties to see to that, as I lead the Chosen now, don't you think?" Come on... where's the reaction? Where's the cringe?
What reaction? Maybe Elian doesn't care anymore. Wouldn't that be a trip? Or maybe he's just hiding it deep, down inside, with his true feel- nah, he just don't care, that's got to be it. He tilts his head, a hand absent-mindedly rubbing at his far arm. "I'm sure she didn't intend for me to interfere with the true Chosen's Duties, but - if you have any words of wisdom, I'd love to hear them."
Words of wisdom, hmm? Savith's eyes narrow to emerald chips, and his arms uncoil. It's slow, the circling Savith starts of Elian, like a hawk circling a patch of grass to drop and scoop up the ravvit in its talons. NO reaction? Bullshit. There's got to be a reaction. "One would think /you/ would have given those to me," he starts coldly lashing out with blame.
Elian sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as the broom drops, bristles grounding and leaning on the handle, turning to regard Savith almost gently. "I know you hurt, Savith, and I have apologized. There's nothing more I can do." There's that half-smile again. "I don't think this has anything to do with the Chosen, either, so I'll get back to my Duty and you to yours..."
Trolls shoot him from the sky! Elian's just ... not... REACTING! GAH! "True enough," Savith admits once the circuit is complete and he returns to face Elian. "What questions do you have about the Chosen that have been dying to have answered," he asks, a very faint sneer upon his features which the Head Chosen works to schools away.
Tsoran returns from his call to duty, obviously.
Hmmm, the rockgarden. Lost in thoughts, the ever-so smoothly moving elfess almost sleepwalks through the garden of rock, like a lost raindrop over skin. She is balancing a long-necked carafe on her small hips, and holding a tablet with four elegant goblets in the
other hand. Unlike other times where she simply walks in and out through a scene like a ghost, she notices this time the voices that seep through the garden. From far she calls herself back into this place, yet hesitating to walk into the scene between Elian and Savith, and even moreso that Tsoran appears. Not even hiding, she just remains standing where she is,
waiting, listening, watching.
Elian chuckles, shrugging a shoulder. "None that come to mind, though I do wonder about those training tools - you've already said they're for a Chosen to know, though, so I guess I'll just have to use my imagination." Fingers tap upon the broom, and he hooks it up, settling it over a shoulder. "Gone, but not forgotten," he remarks a little cryptically. "Is there anything you've ever wondered about the kitchen?" A true half-grin, as humor touches his expression. "That
you wouldn't regret finding out?"
Tsoran murmurs. "Such a pretty sight. I believe I shall not intrude."
Tsoran heads towards Around The Cage
Tsoran has left.
More's being said here than it seems, for Elian's words of gone, but not forgotten, recieve a
full-fledged sneer. "Unfortanely," he nearly growls back in reply, stepping from Elian one full step. Calm. Calm. You don't win if you react first. "The kitchen's business I have seen to. I doubt they would change anything since I was a youth." AHA!! Savith worked the kitchen's too! Ryn's here? She's not noticed, considering Savvy's back is to her.
Elian spreads his hand, ball tucked between thumb and palm. "Likely not, they didn't change much from what I'd remembered either. Some things really never do change, I guess." No, Ryn isn't noticed, considering Savith's doing his best to twist the knife and it's not... really working. But it certainly has Elian's attention, doesn't it? "Give my best to Rosendo and Larias, please? My Duty may not take all my time, but it does take most of the /useful/ time, I haven't had much opportunity to see anyone lately."
Things don't change. Right. And Savith's Lord of Blue Mountain. But it does give the Chosen the moment he needs to find calm again, and at the request to pass on things to beloved family, Savith grins. "Oh, most certainly Larias would love to see you in person. So no. Give her your 'best' all on your own," he says, though what he's not saying is... also important.
That's odd... usually, Savith would rather keep them nice and far away. Has something else happened? But in any case, Elian chuckles, nodding. "Should we cross paths, I will be sure and do so. Do you know where she's at, by any chance? Is she asleep?"
You locksend to Larias, Savith checks up on you. Where are you?
Savith flickers a locksend. Ah. There. "She is busy at her own Duties," Savith replies, and with Tsoran busy that means it's not with HIM. ;) "She should comes down here when she is done, if you'd like to wait." Cause right now, Savvy's got all day.
Tsoran drifts over to Ryn, paying no heed to the happy couple of Elian and Savith.
That's also odd. Usually, Savith would also rather keep nice and far away from Elian as well. The ex-shaper-ex-servant tilts his head. "If we happen to cross paths, I wouldn't mind at all. I do have my own Duties, but not for a time yet..."
Ryn flickers a smile at both Elian and Savith's ongoing, as well as Tsoran's arrival. Nodding, she lifts the carafe to fill one of the fine goblets with wine, holding out the tablet to Tsoran to pick it. "It's the freshest I could find, without the other servants thinning it too much", tells her soft voice, looking at Tsoran with slightly tilted head.
Well. That's what happens to an elf when his mate isn't given him her full attention. Strange strange things. Savith, hearing another voice, turns and finally spots Ryn. Hm...an audience. and no telling how long she'd been there either. Puckernuts. Turningback to Elian, Savith regains that grin, "I see. Well, do enjoy your rest." Playing nice! Honest!
Elian chuckles and nods. "Clear skies, Chosen." An audience? Well, what else is new? Might as well sit down, he's not going to start toying with the broom with Tsoran around. It's an Elian thing in any case...
Tsoran accepts the wine, smiling to Ryn. ** Thank you, my dear, it is appreciated. ** He glances over to Savith, and raises the goblet in a toast. ** Sure you won't join us in a drink, Brother? **
Savith turns his gaze to Tsoran. Wine. Hmm.. But having gotten as close to a farewell from Elian as Savith feels truely comfortable with, the Head Chosen drifts from the ground to fly over. **Half a glass only, Ryn,** he agrees.
Tsoran locksends ** You're a better elf than me, Brother. I'd have dropped him from the bridge by now. **
Tsoran's smile is replied with a smile as well, and as he looks over to Savith, she looks over to Elian, as if Tsoran's invitation was spoken out for Elian as well - just one her side. As the leader of the Chosen approaches her, she nods and fills half a goblet for him, holding the tablet out to him to grab his drink.
You sense in a locksend, Larias is inside the Mountain of course, being stoic and remaining calm, - where else would she feel nervous and wild, yet force herself to remain calm, cool and collected...
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith hmphs softly in reply. **I must lead by example, Brother.**
Elian shakes his head, smiling, to Ryn's invitation-by-proxy. Actually, he'd as soon slip away to his chambers the moment the opportunity presents itself... got things to think about, now.
You locksend to Larias, Savith seems... pleased you're remaining so calm, and given where you are to boot! Rock on Larias!
Tsoran sips his wine, making an appreciative sound.
Tsoran locksends ** And you do so most well. A quite suitable replacement for our poor distracted Kureel. **
You locksend ** The time's not right to beat him so, after all. ;)** Savith quips just before your next thought drifts to him, but when he does, he replies smartly, **Yes. Poor distracted Kureel. And yourself? I do hope my mate is not too distracting for you. ** to Tsoran.
Tsoran sends openly ** I am pleased that the gardens are still producing a sufficient amount of wine. One hears rumors the vines have been doing less wall of late. ** Tsoran regards Savith as he sends, somewhat thoughtfully.
Tsoran locksends ** Less a distraction to me than to herself, Brother. Perhaps it is time she was dismissed from my serivce. **
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith seems a bit pleased to hear that. **Yes. My mother is run tired with Rosendo's care. It is time for Larias to be a mother again.** A pause. **I shall see it she is dismissed.**
Tsoran locksends ** If you are confident of her mothering skills, I am agreeable with that. She does seem a touch wavering of temperament. **
You locksend ** There is only one way to learn to be a parent, Brother. I am confident that Rosendo needs both mother and father, though I shall see to this
temperament, if you would enlighten me with what you have seen. ** to Tsoran.
Savith carries on a brief locksend conversation with Tsoran, sipping at his wine. "Hmm... quite good. My thanks, Ryn." Elian is categorically ignored for now.
Must rethink plan of attack.
Categorically ignored, Elian slips away...
Tsoran glances in the direction of the disappearing Elian before turning his attention back on his companions.
[Mountain] Finding a way to knock down Door and Brace, Savith cackles.
[Mountain] Clinically Insane Larias tries on a new one too?
[Mountain] Categorically ignored, Elian braces the Door!
Tsoran locksends ** Such an ambivalent reaction to closeness, that one. Yearning for it in one moment, and fiercely fighting it the next. Living must her for any duration must be rather...stressful. **
[Mountain] Categorically ignored, Elian says, "She appreciates my... support."
[Mountain] Categorically ignored, Elian has been rock-hard for six thousand turns, there are some long-lasting effects that are well and truly appreciated by those in the know.
[Mountain] Phantom Tsoran just washes his mind out with soap.
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith Hmms softly. **Given how touch felt for her for so long, it is mostly understandable. It has been a long process to get her to show as much trust as she has.**
Ryn dips a slight bow with her head, holding her hand out to one of the benches, "Wouldn't you like to sit and rest for a while? This wine is not to be drunken
in haste." A warm smile comes to her lips as she says that. Whatever makes her so friendly today, she might also just want to give the two Chosen a moment of
peace.
You locksend to Larias, Savith almost wonders if your ears are burning as he talks about you.
[OOC] Ryn should have written Rest instead of Peace
[OOC] Tsoran says, "No peace for the wicked."
[OOC] Savith says, "And no rest for hte weary."
[OOC] Elian says, "And no escape for the bleeding."
Tsoran sends openly ** Thank you, Ryn, but duty calls again too soon. I do appreciate the moment of refreshment before returning to less cultured tasks. **
Tsoran locksends ** Trust... well, I suppose there is some use for it. She seemed quite worried about loosing yours. **
You sense in a locksend, Larias turns her attention to your mind, ** Hmm? ** She can feel the attention you are placing on her, though she doesn't know the why of
it.
Savith sips lightly, saying little as he savors the wine. But unliek Tsoran, Savith does take a seat on the offered bench. After a long moment of sending, he replies, "If you both are called elsewhere, it is understood." He nods to Tsoran, "A Chosen flies to Obey, after all."
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith smirks faintly, **Soulmates. Yes, losing my trust is something she fears greatly but not something to be lightly pulled at. It took more than turns to calm her so.** Of course it did! It tok his SOUL man.
Tsoran murmurs over his wine. "Obedience is a virtue. More should learn it."
You sense in a locksend, Tsoran whispers quiet softly against your mind. ** Is it worth the price? **
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith brushes at you in annoyance as you whisper luxeriously into his mind. **Hmph,** is the near-sound his mind seems to make at yours. **Go make asingle pass at the summit to see if Winddance is on her way, then go hunting. THe kitchen needs more work.** And then give Savith and Larias some alone time. ;)
You locksend to Larias, Savith's mind reaches for your. A touch annoyed at someone. A touch pleased by something. A touch dark at something else. All in all, a normal Savvy. **When you are done with your work, beloved, I would like some words with you in an official capacity.**
Tsoran gives Savith a deep bow, smiling. ** As the Head of the Chosen wishes, of course. **
You sense in a locksend, Tsoran adds in a locksend, still barely above a mental whisper. ** I do pardon upsetting your harmony with my question. I ask merely
for...information. **
Savith smirks lightly. **As the mountain needs, Brother. Go hunt when you're done with your wine,** he quips lightly. Annoyance fading, Savith lifts a brow
at a private thought, replying as the smirk fades lightly.
You locksend ** So you can make sure your own mate were so obident, Brother? ** to Tsoran.
You sense in a locksend, Larias immediately grows tense and wary all at once, ** Yes... Chosen. ** It seems the best response, if the words are official, isn't Chosen what she should call her mate?
Tsoran locksends ** I have no mate, my Brother. And the one I would have as one, would never be... obedient. **
You locksend to Larias, Savith returns to being a bit chilly of mind, though not at the title, but at the conversation he is having with another's mind. But he does make the mental note to reward Larias for picking up on those not-so-subtle nuiances. **And then some not so official words when all is said and done.**
Savith lifts a brow, then grins darkly. "I suppose, it's all a matter of Trust, then, isn't it," Savith askes publically, moving to stand. But will he answer? The goblet comes to his lips, hding the smirk.
You locksend ** Would you trust me to give you an answer you can work with, and would you trust yourself to try it? Or would I trust you with the answer, given you and my mate's history. ** to Tsoran.
Tsoran places the goblet back on Ryns tablet, lingering his fingers on it for a moment as he looks at Savith.
You sense in a locksend, Larias isn't sure if this is all good things or bad things, even the idea of a nice mate to mate chat seems ominous when following up a mate to Chosen conversation. ** Of course Savith, as soon as I am done here. ** Oh, the pangs of what, guilt hit her, what does she converse with the prisoner about as she works - so many emotions tripping through her mind.
Tsoran locksends ** Ah, my sweet Brother, I have no further interest in your mate. But you... you could do better. And perhaps once the last pangs of Recognition
fade, you will see it yourself. No, do not waste your Trust on me, Savith. You will have better use for it.**
Savith regards Tsoran thoughtfully as his words and emotions from his mate drift across his mind at nearly the same time. Havin taken only a few sips, Savith sets the goblet down. "I see. Then I shall speak with her about it at my first opportunity," he comments aloud.
You locksend ** Pure blooded is far better than wolf blooded, Brother. Remember that. ** to Tsoran.
You locksend to Larias, Savith is a touch unsettled by the emotions, and his reply to his Brother is a bit more... terse than he would have liked given the topic of conversation, and so he dials down the gain on his Larias-o-phone, hoping that'll help matters until he can fly to your side.
You sense in a locksend, Tsoran's sending sparkles with amusement, then brushes against your mind with more than a hint of...sensuality? How spooky. ** I
know it well, Savith. Ask Cothee, sometime. **
Tsoran departs to fullfill his orders, presumably.
Tsoran heads out an opening that leads to a slender stone bridge to the west.
Tsoran has left.
Around the Cage
As the narrow, railing-less stair winds through the wast emptiness of the Mountain, it briefly touches the naked surface of a vertical wall. Where wall and stair meet there is a break in the emptiness, a dark and jagged gap in the smooth wall. Separated from the wide empty space with stone bars from which jagged stone thorns jut, this small alcove is crude and unshaped, a distinctly foreign element in
the intricately woven pattern of the Mountain. It seems almost an afterthought - or perhaps a remnant from times far past.
The crouched birdlike shape holding the flame that lights the winding stair sheds a pale radiance on the ledge in front of the cage, but leaves the interior shaded in darkness.
From behind the bars, Raven is standing with her head resting against the back wall of the cage. Her hair falls in a curtain that obscures most of her face from view but, it is clear that she is looking in Larias' direction. The Chosen guard is watching the two of them with a rather suspicious expression on his face though the two aren't speaking just now.
From behind the bars, Larias is near the front of the cage, down on hands and knees, her dress well, lets just say its seen better days. This hands and knees scrubbing is not what the garment was designed for, that's for sure. She is scrubbing the floor diligently with her rags, periodically dipping them in a bucket to rewet and bring the floor to a lovely shine.
Savith floats up from the Rock Garden. Giving a nod to the Chosen on Duty, Generi, most likely since he gets ALL the shit-shifts, Savith floats over and settles on the other side of hte bars, watching in silence. Last time he saw Larias moving about in the Cage... he was here to torture wasn't he? But hte dress is noted, and not really meaning to sound like days of old, Savith comments softly, "We'll have to see about getting you something more appropriate, Larias."
From behind the bars, Raven doesn't notice Savith's approach or his replacing of Generi. Not until he speaks and then she merely glances in his direction before closing her eyes and returning her thoughts and gaze to wherever they were before. She looks as if she's doing better since the Lord proclaimed that she was to be fed regularly with good food instead of the dregs and after having had a bath but, there are still plenty of signs of the ravages left from the last turn spent languishing within the small cell.
From behind the bars, Larias's head snaps up at the sound of her voice mates, and the words he speaks are not lost on her, nor are the memories that they dredge up. The grip on her rags goes white knuckled, and her voice ends up with an edge to it, "Thats not funny.
You sense in a locksend, Larias recoils at the memory and those words, coupled with her location. Such not a happy memory to share, so hard to maintain calm serenity as the memory flickers and flares to life in her mind. Her mind reaches for another, hoping to concoct an interruption of this duty so she can leave this cage and the way it make sher feel.
Savith recoils slightly from the memories and the emotions he can feel flicker up from Larias. "Ah... that's not what I meant, Larias," Savith retorts, stepping away from the bars in an effort to break the moment. "High ones. Hurry up so we can talk." Raven is ignored. After all, the thief already took what she wanted, didn't she? What more can Savith give her that won't get himself in trouble. Besides that, WInddance
got hte tug and is on her way back. Though the going is slow because, let's face it, Winddance is a bird brain. (Ooh look! A cloud!)
You locksend to Larias, Savith takes the emotions like a slap in the face and so retreats, unlike then, to find a way to steady himself. Oh, but he does so HATE that Kureel ordered this. But if Savith were to undo it it would look odd. To say the least.
Tsoran floats up the stairs, rising from the deep
shadow below.
You sense in a locksend, Larias retreats from your mind as well, trying not to dislodge your balance, while her own teeters and wobbles like a weeble.
From behind the bars, Raven is leaning against the back wall of the cage with her head against the stone. Her face is mostly obscured by the curtain of her hair and she seems to be focusing on something far away and then her eyes open wide and she straightens, looking much like the elf that was snatched from the plains a turn ago. Her expression suddenly blooms into a bright smile as a locksend bursts from her.
giant bondbird isn't much of a nesting kind, but goes straight for the feed and water. *scarf*
Savith has stepped away from the Cage, having arrived here not long ago. Calming Larias's flaring emotions from his mind, the Chosen simply waits in silence for mate to declare she is done wit her work.
Tsoran regards the Cage. ** Ah, there is our lovely Larias, now. I did wonder what that worried sending was all about. **
Winddance looks over. Ooh.. food? Food is good.
Savith stops and looks over at Tsoran suddenly. WTF!? Larias sent to HIM? Oh, bt his soul can FEEL the utter shock in that move. Yup yup. And Savith is forced to fight back that flare of... shock, jealousy, confusion, gah! EMOTIONS! Get them off! Get them off! They're sticky!
giant bondbird ruffles importantly. Well, there's probably room for one more at the feed...
Winddance trills and heads over. Ooh. yum! Muchbetter than that grit in the sandy-place. You ever been to the sandy place?
giant bondbird settles for fresh kills, or Aerie feed. Sandy places are unpleasant.
Winddance dips her head to eat. Yeah. Sandy place not fun, but at least they give you LOTS of water. Ooh, and yeah.
Tsoran walks lightly over to Savith, stopping shoulder by shoulder with the Head Chosen. ** It seems the distress was not triggered by any real threat. Unless the little Raven has grown stronger than last I saw her. **
From behind the bars, Larias is near the bars of the cage, down on hands and needs, where the dress touches the floor, its gotten wet and dirty. She sits upright, in her knees, blinking surprised as well that Tsoran has made an appearance just outside the Cage, well, thats not what she was hoping would happen, nope, not at all. Her expression is tense, and the floor is finally clean. When she speaks, the words come out tense, "I should call the shaper." She should, but she doesn't not just yet.
You sense in a locksend, Tsoran glances at you from the corner of his eye. ** Do you want the shaper to let her out? **
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith is still a bit unsettled, bit at your mental touch, his mind stills, and replies, **As ordered, she must call when her work is done.**
Tsoran smiles faintly. ** Then perhaps you should leave her to her duties. ** That apparently in response to a more private send.
Savith crosses his arms overhis chest and retorts, "I'm waiting." Oohh. not happ.
From behind the bars, Strange, usually the Cage is a place that doe snot make Larias feel safe, but right now, she's almost reluctant to leave it. What, with Savith and Tsoran waiting so patiently outside the bars, *gulp* . Mental note made to self: do not try to circumvent one duty with another, does not go well.
Tsoran considers this. Considers Larias, and the poor denied Raven. Then reaches out to place a hand against Savith's back, quite calmly.
Tsoran locksends ** Tension, my Brother. Have you given my question thought? **
From the Aerie, there is a ruckus along with several excited sends, **Winddance
has come back!**
Savith doesn't flinch at Tsoran's touch, though it does make Savith turn to regard his brother. Oh.. but a diversion! At the sends, Savith snaps his head to the Aerie. A quick thought and... he flicks a look at Larias. Yup. SOmeone has a radar for alone time between the lifemates. But not today. Savith sends up to the aerie, **Get her settled in and harnessed to her nest. I'll be up shortly.**
Tsoran murmurs. "Go see to your former bond. I will take care of Larias." Isn't that a nice offer?
From behind the bars, Belatedly, almost reluctantly, Larias calls for the shaper that lets her in and out of the Cage. She rises to stand, dusting off her dress, though the effort is wasted, its dirty and wet, forever stained, alas. She turns her head to give an almost imploring, helpless look to Raven, who of course can't do anything to help out, finally, Larias sighs, and picks up her two buckets of water, the rags having been tossed in them, this time, the in and out will only take one trip... now where's that blasted shaper.
RIght here. High ones! Elfess have NO patience. floating down, the shaper moves the stone away for Larias to pass. But Savith lifts a brow at Tsoran. "The hawk is being seen to. I need to speak with the life-bearer first." Ooh.. not even using her name!
Tsoran inclines his head respectfully. "As you say, Brother. I have a fresh kill that needs attending." The hand pulls away after a moment, he gives Larias a thoughtful look, and then departs as silently as he arrived.
From behind the bars, Raven casts a look in Larias' direction and it is clear that she wishes she could help in some way but, knows that she is not in any position to help herself much less anyone else. She looks up toward the ceiling of the cage, still smiling as she welcomes her bond back to the Mountain but, then she feels the tether being attatched to Dance's leg and she shakes her head, "Noooooo! I did as you
asked! What part of her will you not kill by doing this?!?" she shouts aloud, letting the sound carry through the halls and not caring who hears. She lets out an anguished wail as her bond is tethered and bound to the stones. She shakes her head franticly
then braces her hands on either side of her head as her eyes roll back and she collapses to the stone floor unconscious.
From behind the bars, Now that is going to leave her ears ringing for a long time... Larias looks back to the collapsing Raven, and though she'd like to kneel down and see if she's ok, somehow, that doesn't strike her as a good idea. After all, if that was from a Winny blacksend, consoling is definitely not on the list of things Lri should do. She closes her eyes, and with buckets in hand, slowly makes her way back out of the Cage, brow beaded in sweat from the work, dress dirtied and wet from hanging to the floor as she cleaned. Once out of the cage, her eyes go to her mate, and then they drop back to the floor, "If.. you want to speak to me now Chosen, my duty is done, though I need to return these to their place." She lifts the buckets a fraction of an inch, her arms straining to do so.
YOu know, being Head Chosen has it's perks. Like calling over the poor rock shaper to take the buckets. "He'll see to your items, Larias. I would see you bathed and changed first." Cause a hot bath would definately relax and he's got good news. Really.
Larias steps out of the Cage as the bars melt away.
Larias has arrived.
Larias swallows nervously and sets the buckets down for the rockshaper to take care of once he's done closing the bars. Her eyes drift again over to regard her mate, and oh yeah, she's nervous, "Yes Chosen..." She turns to head down the steps, legs aching from having been on her knees for so long, and now all these blasted steps.
Savith turns to walk after Larias, taking each step slowly. His eyes regard her, starting to wonder if the work is too taxing for her. Better check with WInnowill on that. Mental note made, and steps walked.
Larias heads down the steps towards the Grotto, catch me if you can.. oh wait, everyone can, since they fly and she walks.
Grotto
Water cascades from the very heart of this cavern, from its spiralling roof down over the forms of stone to the uneven floor. In the center of the room a number of circular basins nest, each within a larger one, sinking in order into the floor and edged with shells shape from the very stone. Water fills each of these basins, as in the old days, constantly flowing from the fountain clean and being eventually drained
away. The circulation ensures only the very purest water is in the basins at any given time.
Illuminated with the same far-off luminescence as the water and most of the Mountain, two paths sinew off into the stone: one low-ceilinged hallway, and a set
of stairs descending into the floor.
Splish, splash it appears Kifah is taking a bath, all on a quiet afternoon. The little elfess has the grotto to herself for the time and is taking full advantage. Her clothing has been folded neatly and set atop a bench, her boots beneath, and her robe hanging from a nearby hook. Long days of strain show around her eyes, a tightness normally not there that has dulled her usual mirth and settled a cloud over her head almost permanently now. However dark the time is for the catelf the future is bright, and so it is with hope in her heart that she manages a soft lullaby from her lips as she washes away the days grime and sweat from leather working.
Much like Kifah, Larias looks like she's seen better days. The skin about her eyes is tight, her expression one of grim determination mingled with a bit of pain, that and worried irritation. High Ones, Tsoran came to her call, thats not what was supposed to happen, and boy, wasn't Savith boiling over it too. Her dress is dirty from the knees down, and wet to, and oddly enough, the last four inches of her hair is wet as
well. She pauses as she enters the Grotto, hearing Kifah's song, and her steps come to a halt. She sighs, "If you desire privacy Kifah, I can see if I am allowed to wait for another time to bathe." She and the kitty cat haven't exactly been talkative with one another since the tossing of Kureel.
But does Savith care? Well of course!! Friendships were ordered repaired, after all. But Savith will give Kifah that chance to respond even if the quirk of his brow might hint that he would be annoyed if the cat said no. But while he remains silent here, his mind is flashing to Llune's apprentices, to bring Larias a fresh dress. Then to the servers for towels.
At least one apprentice is off duty, so Kifah gets to skip fetching for a friend she's not to sure she wants to be all that friendly with. However as the grotto is a public place she halts her song, cut off as her good mood falters. So much for a relaxing bath. "If I desired privacy, Larias, I would have spoken with Malene about that private bath chamber in my own nest like Kureel and I once discussed.", the catelf retorts, trying to keep her tone from being snappish. Maybe she'll just cut her bath time short today and go back to work for awhile.
Larias lets out a sigh, and heads over to about as far distant a place as can be found from where Kifah sits in the waters. She makes no reply, rather, she gets
undressed. Her knees a re definitely either bruised or grimy, and for the astute, the barest swell of her stomach can be seen. She moves to the waters, and slides in, keeping distant from the cat elf. If Savith is there, she doesn't even seem to show that she is aware, after all, he ordered here as Head Chosen, no reason to assume he'd be having bath time as well.
Sadly, bath time is not right now. BUt, wanting to feel his mate's body in his arms, Savith figures now is the best time to get at least part of his work done with so he can enjoy the bath. "As you begin to wash up, Larias, I need to inform you that you have been dismissed from Tsoran's service." See! GOod news! Come on. get happy.
Kifah's lips writhe for a moment. That was either shock or some smart ass comment that she bit back just then as she completely busies herself in scrubbing dye
from her hands and arms where she was spattered. Blue polkadots just don't become her. 'I wonder who ordered that to begin with?', Kifah thinks to herself, 'And
how Tsoran thought... probably a dream come true in his book.'
Larias breathes a sigh of relief, utterly missing whatever it is Kifah whispers beneath her breath. "Winnowill feels I've learned my lesson?" She asks, one brow arching up, obviously surprised by the notion, especially considering her outburst to Tsoran the other day. She smirks, dunks her head, then comes back up again, hair plastered to her face, "Not that I'm complaining, just surprised."
You sense in a locksend, Larias expounds on that, ** I'd gotten the impression from her, it would be a lengthy duty... But I am glad that it is done with. **
"Winnowill had little to do with it," Savith replies after Larias dunks and surfaces. THe 'nasty' bit is done with. Savith can be a mate for a moment before seeing to his returned bond. "Tsoran himself stated it was best ended. He would know, I think." ANd the helmet is pulled from his head and the talonwhip from his side.
You locksend ** As did I, but if Tsoran no longer needs you, I will agree it is for the best. YOu will be needing more rest as you get bigger, I think. (ooh.. a daddy again! Yay!) ** to Larias.
You sense in a locksend, Larias blinks, and mentally, she deflates, ** Tsoran ... released me? Damn him... He tried that yesterday. Only she can release me. Not
him. **
You locksend ** Did he? Hmm. Well, I had planned to speak with Her about your work int eh Cage, to make sure it will not over tax you. I will bring it up. If Tsoran no longer needs you, it is time you focused on family. ** to Larias.
Kifah shoots Savith a look from the corner of her eyes, a look that is here and gone, and perhaps even unnoticed by those present. Done with her scrubbing the catelf hauls herself from the tub, scraping the water from her body and doing her best to wring the water from her hair before she reachs for a towel to dry off with.
Kifah locksends ** And what of her 'lesson' with Kureel? **
You locksend to Kifah, Savith turns his attention on you quickly. **Lesson? You mean her mistaking him for Tsoran?**
Kifah locksends ** Yes. **
Larias closes her eyes letting out a frustrated sigh. Leaning her head back, she tries to blot out all the sights and sounds, focussing on a private conversation. Better than catching any nasty looks from Kifah.
You sense in a locksend, Larias feels her head beginning to ache again, but, as usual, she works at ignoring it, ** Savith, please. Don't. I know you mean well, but all this is by her Will. She knows I still clean the Cage, she knows Tsoran and I rub each other the wrong way, ** well, save for that one time, ** Don't get yourself into trouble by intervening. ** Her sending turn more acerbic than she intends, ** Do you
even know what lesson I am to learn through this, why she has assigned me to tend to his needs and desires? ** Oh yes, desires, though thankfully, none of those have turned towards joining.
Gah! Too many thoughts! Too many thoughts. Savith sighs as mutliple thoughts hit him and none make him all too happy. "Why do you ask her, Kifah," Savith replies publically to the cat elf, cause apparently, as Larias lovingly points out, he hasn't a clue. Damn it! It makes him want to THROW things across the room and yell when people leave him out of hte loop about things that are important to him! And Larias can feel that frustration clearly. It's like Winny tatooed it on his forehead.
t's a sign of her bad mood that has Kifah practically lashing her tail, if she had a tail to lash in the first place that is. "As you wish, Head Chosen." With her hair mostly dry the catelf reaches for her robe, securing it closed before she'll bother to give Larias the time of day, let alone ask her question. "So if you've learned your lesson with Tsoran, what about Kureel? Or do you have any more intentions of harming my mate I should be aware of in advance?" Snippish is an understatement, as the biggest blanket protection Larias has right now is she's a lifebearer for the
Mountain, a fact no one better rub into the little elfess' skin along wtih all the other lemon juice and salt to her wounds. Elian is not here today to calm her down and make her think rationally, and the promise none no of save Winnowill and Kureel does not extend to Larias.
Ok, she's dealt with Tsoran on a far to regular basis, she just got out of the Cage, her mate is manic today, and now the cat is chewing on her toes. Larias stands up, the water falling off her body in torrents. She's far from clean, but bath time, regardless is over. Nope, must keep a different promise, but not before Larias sends a private reply. Her face is beat red, a scowl on her features.
You sense in a locksend, Larias has been taken to the edge and tossed over it today, verging on that pinnacle of losing it or maintaining status quo, Larias well, is just about ready to fall into losing it.
Tail lashing? What about ruffled feathers. Already frustrated, Kifah's tone of voice and now Larias's emotions get hte best of him, and he stands. "Go to our nest, Larias," he orders, eyes hard on Kifah. What could he say? So many things. SO SO many things. But Winnowill's orders ring in his mind and it keeps him from lashing out at the cal elf. "The day has been long for everyone." The gliders move in with towels
and clothes for Larias. THe later Savith takes, the former is floated to his mate while the gliders head out.
You locksend to Larias, Savith just wants one hour with you alone. Is that too much to ask? Is it? One hour to relax, to hold you and be a mate. Screw being Chosen. And Tsoran? Yeah, here's your answer, 'brother': it's MORE than worth it. Every moment, even the bad, make those sweet times all the better. So yes, giving up his soul to have Larias near is more than worth it, and he'd do it again. So just leave his mate alone. Mine! (ala Finding Nemo)
And there was the send that tipped the cat's cup. Throwing her towel to the floor Kifah turns to face Larias as if the catelf were ten feet tall. "And I've already apologized ten times over AND offered myself to the Chosen for punishment, specifically /your/ mate, Larias! It wasn't like I was happy that I let Tsoran lead you off either, but given he's fond of stabbing me with his boot knife what the vines was I supposed to do?! And it's your own fault for getting drunk! And while it may have been Tsoran you thought you were throwing you still weren't in your right
mind. Go sulk in my nest you say? If I had a nest! I'm sure you've already heard the whispered rumors about me and Elian till I decided I'd be better off going to
sleep in the Aerie near Nightsky's nest since I can't even sleep with my own mate!" Turning the catelf stalks off, clothing in hand, dressed in the robe so long ago given to her by Kureel, more then likely headed back to the cubby in the aerie she's started to sleep in when she's not working for Llune.
Larias grabs the twoels from the air, insult to injury, they float to her. Something she can't even do right now. But, she does as told. though, in the most childish manner possible, especially after Kifah's bursting retort. The towel she took from the air is dropped to the floor, and, without a strip of clothing on her, she stalks out, water dripping from body and hair. Oh how she;d love to make a reply, or try and
rip into Kifah right now, but the one elf that can truly order her about with ease, did so - and to him she listens, even when she's raving.
Savith carefully carefully controls the putburst he can feel Larias wanting to start up into, which in turn would start him into a rant and a rave. So as Larias turns to leave nude, Savith turns, collects the towels with a thought and steps in after her, draping the fabric over Larias's shoulders. "Cover up, darling. We don't want Rosendo to get hte wrong ideas." Even if it is funny.
Kureel steps quietly down the stairs to the Grotto, his eyes a bit blurry, but that certainly looks like a nude Larias, and pissed too. Well, this could be fun,
he could use some cruelty in his life. **Clear Skies Larias, Tsoran not allowing you clothes?** He stands at the bottom step, blocking the way as much as he can
for so lithe an elf, a cruel smirk creeping into wearied features.
Kifah doesn't notice Kureel's appearance as she walks head long into her mate. The little elfess is also stalking, tail lashing if she had one, and in a state
fit to be tied as she tries to muscle her way past Kureel, muttering under her breath the whole way.
What a lovely way to end her day, ordered to her room, only to have the way blocked by cat elf and bastard Chosen. And that very same Bastard Chosen asking such a bastard like question. The hands at her sides ball into fists, and, though she's supposedly trying to remain calm she lets out a guttural scream of rage and begins charging the mated pair, seeing nothing but Kureel's jaw line in the cross hairs. So much for being good and listening and all that. Heh - and here Winnowill ordered her to learn to respect the Chosen, yeah, thats working REAL well.
Oh crap! Out of control mate! Being right behind her, Savith charges after Larias, intent to wrap his arms about her ribcage and pull her to a stop and off her feet. Control. Control. Must not... nust be good. No really. Thank the High ones Winnowill took Larias's flight away or he'd not ever have a chance at slowing her
Kureel sends briefly to the insistent mate trying to barrel through him, though he will move out of her way if she proves determined, or ignorant enough of him. Larias however.. She looks like she might just be ready to attack a Chosen.. and Kifah, neither good things in Kureel's mind. He un-hooks his talon whip from his belt, and sends openly. **Savith, subdue her, or I shall.** the flavor of the sending makes it clear for the most unobservant elf that should he have too, it wont be altogether pleasant. Larias did nearly kill him.
Kifah turns, hearing Larias' scream of rage, completely ready to light into her again after as kind as she's been, even when she's wanted to soundly thump the female she thought was her friend. 'Fine, why not, first Tsoran Cages me, stabs me, my own mate tries to strangle me, and now this!' Kifah thinks, turning to meet Larias' attack even as she hears Kureel's sending; the catelf is all to happy to 'subdue' Larias
herself.
Though her mate tries to stop her, wet as she is, Larias ends up able to slide free, kind of like a greased pig. Breaking into an awkward run, she closes the distance between herself and Kureel, ok, Kifah's out of sight out of mind now, she's short. Its just Kureel and his cruel sneer, which, given the hand pulled back for a punch, is something she wants to seen off his face right now.
GAH! Slippery mates! As Larias slips from his grasp, Savith clentched his teeth. He lost and he knows it. At this rate, Winnowill's gonna take his whip away.
Slipping deftly aside, with just a touch of levitation for emphasis, Kureel grins and slides his talon whip up to Larias' neck, the sharp points just barely touching the skin, so in control of his weapon that the slightest movement from Larias is matched, he wont let her hurt herself, that's his job now. **So anxious for another stay in the Cage Larias? Why such foolishness? Risking yourself I can understand, but
what about Savith's child?**
Watching her mate in slightly awe, Kifah holds her ground, almost daring Larias to take a swing at her as she scowls at the taller female. However for now she'll let someone else try and calm her down. Of course that does nothing to calm her anger, but at least she manages not to send.
Larias lets out another growl of rage, caught in arms and magic, with a talon whip at her throat. Going utterly still, Larias speaks through clenched teeth, "Let me go you worthless piece of troll dung." Her fists at her sides remain balled tightly, ready to swing when she gets the chance, legs too seemed tensed to strike, the sooner Kureel lets the magic loose and removes the talon whip, the sooner she can give him
what he deserves.
Savith moves to match Kureel, making a Larias sandwich. A send meant for her mind alone, as green eyes flick to Kureel. He's hands do move to wrap about Larias fully, getting a firm grip. He'll pull her away now, and up into the air, where she can't do anything.
You locksend to Larias, Savith is upset, and your outburst made him loose it. **Curse it /Larias/. Stop being stupid. Just stop. Stop stopstop stop stop!!!**
Kureel smirks, a soft chuckle in his throat. "I think not, Larias, you'll just attack me, and I'll be forced to put you down.. and that would rob the Mountain of /so/ much. A Mother for Rosendo, a friend for Elian, a mate for Savith, and a very ....hrm.. dedicated? servant for my Brother." He brings the talon whip down, still keeping her slightly aloft. "No, I think not."
Every word which oozes with vitriolic acidity from Kureel's mouth only fuels her anger and rage, but Savith works to dampen the fire, cut it off at its source, the she-elf herself. Though the talon whip falls away, Larias does not make any motions, not even to attempt to swing her fist at her own mate, seeing as magic's hold prevents her from swinging at Kureel, though it doesn't stop her from kicking him - at least Savith's words accomplish that feat. She closes her eyes, hiding the stormy grey window they give to her soul, and silence reigns supreme bout her, as she
remains a the cream in the filling of a Chosen sandwich.
Savith floats backward as the talonwhip is pulled away, moving slowly, drawing Larias with him as he goes. In his rush to capture his wild mate, he dropped his helm and talonwhip, since he had taken them off in hopes of getting a bath. Yeah, that didn't work out. Green eyes remain on Kureel, pensive and ...submissive. Someone's not feeling very Head CHosen-ish right now. Nope. Actually, he's upset and worried and trying not to funnel too much into Larias.
You locksend to Larias, Savith wants to run away, hide, and take you with him. THe thought of locking you up in his room and never lettig you out flashes across his mind. Maybe, if you don't TALK to anyone, you won't get in trouble! But that's hardly an answer. Sadly, Savith doesn't HAVE any real answers right now. He just wants you out of here. But damn could he scream and throw something against a wall right now.
Hey, you're in his arms, right? Wonder how far you... no. bad thoughts! Bad Savvy. no nookie!
You sense in a locksend, Kureel sidles up next to your mind slowly, a cautious and careful communication. **Savith, Brother I think it is time for me to reclaim my position as Head Chosen, you seem to have issues of your own at the moment. And mine will soon be resolved.**
Kureel sends briefly to his Brother, all the while keeping his eyes locked on to Larias'. Depending on his reply.. he may find pulling her away from his magics easy, or VERY difficult. "Kifah, would you be so kind as to collect Savith's helm and Talon whip please?"
You locksend to Kureel, Savith is none too steady, but the very carefully mental communication doesn't tip the scales and relatively in control does Savith remain. And readily agree to the idea too. Damn! What respect Savith has for Kureel, I mean really! TO be so steady while being attacked and fighting Recognition Denied. He's too awesome for words man. And with the acknowledgement, Savith sends all that he's done as Head CHosen, which wasn't much. He hadn't gotten then chance to get Kifah to tell him who hurt her so he could be punished, thought he point is moot now, then
Tsoran wanting Larias's punishment to end and then the utter frustration of no one TELLING him that ONLY WInnowill could end it. Oh, and Winddance is back. Yes, and tethered to her nest for the time being. Just in case.
"Yes, Chosen." Kifah replies, walking past the two to go fetch the helm and whip for her mate. No matter how much she's mad at Larias a part of her feels sorry for
her other friend; Savith. His mate may have just cost him his position with the Chosen for a time, and all of a sudden it dawns on her and what she put Kureel at risk over when wanting to vent at Larias over the lack of an apology or anything between the two. Saddly it doesn't dull the anger the little elfess has.
Larias remains utterly still, red faced and angry, but doing as her mate requested. She's naked and dripping wet, and held by mates arms and another Chosen's magic. Why did she even bother waking up today?
Savith meets KUreel's gaze as he's sent to, then as a wordless report filters between them, Savith drops his gaze and turns his face aside slightly. Stupid wolfin habits from having two wolfrider soulmates. THey creep up at the WEIRDEST times, like now: Showing throat and all. GAH!
Kureel releases any hold over Larias. The smirk cooling He awaits Savith's Helm and Talonwhip. Ahh, its good to be Head Chosen again.
Kifah returns to her mate's side, offering him the helm and whip of a Chosen, her expression carefully guarded, even though her mate can feel the tension of the moment; but it wasn't Savith's fault! "You asked for these, Chosen?"
Larias does not place her arms around her mate, no, she simply remains held aloft, getting his clothes wet while he does whatever it is that he's going to do with Kureel. Her face remains red, contorted with anger that hasn't been released in a rather long time. But hey, she's remaining still, not moving, so, thats a good thing, right?
You sense in a locksend, Larias is a boiling sea of anger and rage and frustration and annoyance and pain. She's been so good of late, why did Kifah have to dig, its all her fault! Oh yeah, and Tsoran's, he just had to show up when all he was supposed to do was send for her and say, yeah, he needed something so she could leave the Cage cause it was creeping her out.
And very good thing. Yes, very good. He told her stop. SHe stopped. Good girl gets a cookie. Who's a good girl? Larias is a good girl! Woohoo! COokie! Drifting another little bit away, Savith lifts his gaze to Kureel again, waiting. His helm and talonwhip, that which marks him as CHosen. Will they be returned to him... or kept until things are more settled? OH but then emotions. EMotions from Larias. They makes his green eyes quiver faintly, and his brows pull together while a frown plays at the corners of his mouth. This is SO frustrating! His mate! His! He just wants to shout MINE and tell everyone to come back in three centuries. (Mine! ala Finding Nemo!) Heeheehee
Kureel loops his own Talon whip on his belt before taking the helm and talon whip from Kifah. Kureel pauses, noting the tension and tremor running through the room like the low strumming of a tightly wound string. Interesting. **I respect you enough to trust you to take care of this Brother** He sends while holding them back out, one in each hand. Of course this begs the question, will Savith release Larias to come and get them? And what will she do when he does? Internally, Kureel is slipping back to that sirens call, cruelty and anger only able to hold its annoying song at bay for so long. Poor Kifah, its all there for her to feel if she's listening.
And people wonder why Kifah's high strung, she's not skilled enough to blot it out through that connection of souls. Come on Larias, you know you want to swing at Kureel, just give the catelf an excuse, she's got a fist with your name on it. A tremble runs through the catelf's small body as she stands there, hoping to leave, wanting to leave, her eyes seeking her mate's as she senses his inner struggle.
Oh, what a connumdrum. To set Larias down and have her rush Kureel again, as he can feel her wanting to, or weaken his magical hold to extend himself to collect the items and risk her break free. He'll try this. She's obeying so well.... To her ear his lips go, as if whispering, but the thoughts drift more privately that in softly uttered words can do.
You locksend ** Should I put you down, you will not attack, understood? You must not. (Beg beg plead plead. PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE?) ** to Larias.
Larias lets a thought drift to her mate, a promise. Her eyes do not open, nor does her body relax, her face remains that same red shade, emotions raging within her. But, she doesn't look like she prepping to swing at anyone or kick at anything. At least, not right now.
You sense in a locksend, Larias seems to consider your request, for far longer than really it should ya know? ** I will remain at your side. **
You locksend ** I'll hold you to that, for should you move away from it, there will be little I can do to save you. (Such saness there is in him over that fact. Okay, maybe he should change his answer to Tsoran. Sometimes this whole soul thing ain't.... no, it's worth it. I mean come ON! He's not alone anymore!) ** to Larias.
You sense in a locksend, Larias keeps her level of irritation constant, and she snaps a bit, ** I said I'd not move, what, now YOU don't believe my sends either?! **
You locksend to Larias, Savith snaps back. **I /do/ believe you! I just fear your rash actions. They make scared. Scared! I'm AFRAID of what you might do, of losing you, so just stay. Right. Here. And don't. Move!** And all that frustration quivers.
Kureel rests the hand that holds the talon-whip, down on Kifah shoulder echoing his mental explanation of, no stay here for now. They will have to speak later of what crawled up the kittys butt. He waits patiently, the turmoil in his mind growing stringer, If Larias were to charge him now he may not even notice it. Kifah veritibly hums with the tension, caught between the turmoil of her mate's mind, and the sheer anger over the whole situation in general. Noting the distraction Kureel endures the little elfess keeps her eyes locked to Larias and Savith, ready to defend her love from the irrational female who needs her nose whacked with a reed; someone needs to grow up and act their age, and only Kifah is the youngest by centuries easily, though it's still not a good excuse for her either.
Savith locksends with his mate, thoughts flashing between them until finally he turns slightly and places Larias gingerly upon the ground by his side. Everything is slowly done, eyes turning to Larias's face. She can rage on him when they ar ein the privacy
of their nest, and he'd welcome the bruises at her hand, but for now. Stay. Stay. Stay. Good girl gets a cookie. Be a good girl. And slowly the magic is lifted from her and his hands withdrawing...
Larias doesn't open her eyes once she's set on the ground, nor when the magic fades from around her. And the only motion she makes, is her arms folding up across her chest, at least she doesn't tap her foot in irritation. Her expression remains unchanged, emotions broiling, rolling wildly within.
You sense in a locksend, Larias snaps back quickly, ** Fine. ** She's ticked, believe her, yeah right - if that were the case he wouldn't feel the need to reiterate so much. Right about now, a much younger Larias would be sticking her tongue out.
At Seeing Savith Approach, Kureel extends hands again, offering Savith his items of station.. those things that mark him as Chosen. A private sending for His Brother, to bolster him, at least that's how its intended. The reality however..
You sense in a locksend, Kureel betrays a genuine respect for you, his defenses assailed from so many directions by this cursed Wolf-elf! **Each day my respect for you grows, Savith, even on the days when you manage to make me lose all respect for you.**
Kifah stays obiediently at her mate's side, even when his hand is removed, her expression carefully guarded and neutral though her eyes never leave Larias; like a
hunting cat waiting for it's prey to make the wrong move and spring.
Tension so high in the air, Kureel's compliment is like a breeze of fresh air. Savith takes his badges of rank, and replaces them smoothly with but a deep nod to Kureel. **If there is nothing further, Head CHosen,** he asks crisply, praying Kureel will say no, ready for him to say yes.
Larias simply remains standing there in the buff. Ok, so what if she's starting to get cold, and that means some of the red has left her face. She'll stand here for a hundred turns if she has too, at least, thats what the set to her jaw seems to imply.
Kureel returns his hand to Kifah's shoulder, finding a bit of calm in the turbulence of his mind. Noting Larias evident chill, and deciding that though she may not be armed, if those nipples get any colder they might be used as weapons he sends **Larias, dry off and put something warm on.** Then facing Savith **We must speak about Winddance.**
Kifah turns her gaze up to her mate, looking at him for a long moment as if searching for answers.
Ah crap. He shouldn't have asked! But as Kureel orders, Savith nods. **Of course, Chosen,** he sends but doesn't add anything to Kureel's orders. Casue if he didn, he might get in trouble.
Larias turns her head to face Kureel, her eyes opening as she makes as quick a reply as she can, "I am to remain where I am until told otherwise." SO nyah nnyah nyah nyah!
Kureel scowls "And i have just told you otherwise" He snaps. Facing back fully to Savith and ignoring the mad-elf. "Winddance is restrained, tell me about that, and what you see must be done to ensure her continued reliability to us, and not to that Filth in the cage." That soul-stealing Bond stealing filth.. blech! And yet... so intriguing... must have her.. no must kill her! No can kill her.. must mate with her... Ack, somebody stop my head i want out.
Kifah does her best not to whine, though the strain she feels is relayed through her expressions. Of course her emotions are totally different; must make 'its' life difficult and misserable, good for nothing, mate stealing, bond thieving, excuse for bird poop!
Savith turns his head just enough to tell Larias over his shoulder, "Obey Kureel, Larias." And helmet is redonned. "She is restrained at my order to ensure the Theif would not order her away again. TO ensure her continued reliability... would mean the Thief stops sending to her, completely, for the rest of their lives, and I retrain her from scratch. I don't yet know how much damage has been done to her."
Larias moves stiffly, her knees are killing her from being on them for the time it took to clean the Cage this most recent time, not to mention what all those damn stairs are doing to them. Her steps are hard as she leaves where she was ordered to remain by her mate, looking for a towel left by someone, since she threw hers into the water mid tantrum.
Kureel nods at Savith's report, exhaustion beginning to show more clearly, and a surprising narrowed eye glace cast at Kifah for a moment, Kureel's getting snippy. "Keep me informed Brother."
Kifah looks humbled beneath her mate's gaze, meek once more as she resists the urge to lean against him and just be close for the sake of it, for both of them. Instead she offers him a wordless locksend, trying to fulfill her role as a good little mate.
Savith nods to Kureel's order, recoiling the talonwhip as he likes and attached it to his belt. "As you order," he replies, not commenting about Kureel's clearly seen exhaustion. Instead, he states, "If you'll excuse me, Brother, I must get Larias home. The shifts are covered until tomorrow." Meaning both are free till then, since Savith's been working everyone, himself included, as hard as they are able to keep Kureel from being overly strained. While still giving Kureel enough Duty to keep him sane.
Larias finds a towel, its one of the smaller ones, but at least its unused, and roughly she dries herself off. Now, where are those damn clothes she saw? All the while she mutters in a perturbed fashion to herself, hardly a word of it making any sense, nope, got to many things going on in her mind for much to make senses unless your in that place with her - and ask Savith, that is NOT a place anyone wants to be.
"Of course Savith, rest well." Kureel sure as hell isn't going to. Keeping him from duty? Are you mad.. Keep him busy, Duty time is no-thinking time.
Kifah reachs to takes Kureel's hand, Larias be damned, she'll show the ancient elfess how a mate should behave and be supportive.
Savith turns from Kureel and Kifah. If Kifah's trying to out o Larias, she'll have to get knocked up. >:) There's the dress. He dropped that too. He dropped EVERYTHING to catch Larias. Isn't he a nice mate? Scooping it up, he holds it out to Larias.
Not there. She stomp over that way. Nope, dress isn't there either. Larias lifts her head, and catches sight of something held by Savith, and so, to him her bare feet slap on the cold stone of the floor. She grabs it from his hands, and without a care for the material, puts it over her head and there, she's dressed. And then, just to be a complete snot, she moves back to where she'd been told to stand before. Though the garb given her is a bit strange, since she hasn't settled it all in its rightful place, at least she's dressed... As for Kifah, Larias won't even look at the cat elf right now. Yeah, she thought that one was her friend, but apparently too much time with Kureel has soured her disposition to the point she's lost understanding - as for learning from the cat elf, not a chance, too long outside living from day to day, heh, trade stories when you've lived half so long.
Kureel notes that Savith and Larias seem to be settled, well as settled as Larias ever gets. At a sending from his mate he sneers again deeply, eyeing Larias all the while. Seems Kifah's learning why he called her Traitor. See, patience teaches truth.
Kifah doesn't match her mate for expression, but obviously something in her send would compliment his sneer nicely. With a little sniff she nuzzles up to his side, affectionate and posessive all at once. My Mate! At a return sending from Kureel the little elfess merely shakes her head but otherwise doesn't budge.
Oh, things are far from settled. Savith's gonna get a beatin when they get in. GOod thing ROsendo is with Llune, huh? MOving to larias's side, Savith speaks to her softly, "Move." To the nest,and if you take a swing at anyone... high ones help him...
Larias does as told without another word or send to anyone. She's in a snit, and Tsoran, Raven, Savith, Kifah, and Kureel are did a wonderful job of setting her up to place her there. But, Savith rules her heart and soul more thoroughly than any other, and so, his word is law, no matter how much she would just love to swing at everyone else.
Kureel moves out of the way, pulling Kifah closer to him to move both out of the way. As soon as Savith and Larias pass, he takes a deep breath, summoning up mental acumen.
Kifah has no problem with getting out of Larias way, she's even a good girl and doesn't trip the ground bound female, mostly because she's expecting. Snuggled up against her mate she tries to forget the woes of reality for a moment, seeking through sending to ease Kureel's mind for a short while.
Savith's Chambers, Hall of the Chosen, Blue Mountain
A feeling of magic resonates about the chamber, a shapers touch having recently graced the room. A stone chandelier is centered on the ceiling, several candles set to burn and illuminate the room. Hanging from the chandelier are several small pieces of metal, polished so as to brightly reflect the light from the candles above. A patchwork ravvit fur ground covering is on the floor, colors ranging from tawny blonde, to golden, to a rich deep brown. Around the fur covering, are several large sitting pillows, each one matchnig one of the shades in the center pillow, one which is made of roe deer skin, a soft brown, striped faintly with gold.
Along one wall a stone table has been erected as has a bench, a pitcher and tray set out, though both are commonly empty. Hung against the far wall of the room, is a circular decoration. It appears to be made entirely of leather and ravvit fur, soft browns , again with a touch of gold. Within the circle, strands of sinew create a webbed pattern, in which small beads made of bone are tied. From these beads, strings of leather fall, almost brushing the floor, the ends tipped in more beads, feathers, and fur. Two wall sconces shaped to either side, illuminate the strange
piece of art work. One small corner of the room has been curtained off from the rest, the curtain matching the color scheme of golds, yellows and browns, with fine needlework
decorating the light weight leather. Images of great hawks, wolves, ravvits and a myriad of other creatures has been embroidered onto the piece. A small corner of
the bed and platform peeks out from behind the curtain, covered in new blankets and pillows, again the coloring the natural golds and browns of doe skin, set to match the rest of the room.
All in all, this Chosen's room has come to resemble a wolfriders den more than a chamber of the Mountain.
Savith follows closely behind Larias, almost as if herding her to their nest. But once there, the self-assured silent anger fades, replaced by the readiness fo ra good throttling. Okay Larias. Hit me.
But as Larias so often does, Savith's best laid plans are rent to shreds by her, even if she doesn't mean to. The whole way, her bare feet slapped hard against the stone, and when she moved to the curtain to enter the room, she nearly tore it from the rod that holds it in place. Once inside, she grabbed a goblet or pitcher, whatever was on the table, and flung it against the far wall. Once it clattered to the ground, she herself sat down hard, right there on the floor, holding her head in her hands. Tantrum over, reality sinking in.
Savith turns to make sure the curtain doesn't fall completely, only to flinch as the goblet hits the far wall. Turning, the last of Larias's emotions hit him like a tornado, and he can't help but drift over, dropping to his knees at Larias's side. Hesitantly he asks, "Larias?"
Larias looks up, her eyes reflecting the turmoil in her soul, all of which he can feel should he chose to. She lifts one hand, holding her palm to her head, fingers twined in her hair, "I can't keep doing this Savith." Her voice cracks, giving her reason to pause in her speaking. "Tsoran, Raven, Kifah... I can't take them, this" at the word this, her hand touches her stomach, and with that touch, the uncertainty, for she still doesn't know who's it is.
OH, Savith can feel it, feel it all. That gain on the Larias-o-phone is hitting feedback levels. The uncertainity, the turmoil.. it makes Savith lean forward and collect her up in a hug. "Ants eat their eyes," he curses softly. "I don't care who's it is. They can try to give you doubt, but that's all it is. doubt. And it is born and bred of jealousy. We are mates, a matched set. Together, we're not alone, and
they know it. So be deaf to them." Oh! He's shaking!
How odd, she's flipped her switch to nutso, and Savith is the one shaking, leaving Larias suddenly on the other side, with his arms about her, tears threatening, her hands reach up and around him in a quick embrace, only for one hand to fall away so the can try and brush through what hair she can (he did put the helm back on, right?). "I should just stay here, forever. Never leave this chamber, Only have to see you, talk to you. They'd not be able to incense me if I never saw them again." ANd that would be better for Savith, right? No loony mate, rooms always cleaned
- the ultimate homebody *snicker*
Hey. DOn't snicker! That's EXACLY what went through Savith's mind. Force you to stay home and then no one would bug you. But he's shaking more out of overloading emotions. "You know you can't do that. Sure, it'd be easy but.." ANd he grins. "We never take the easy road, do we?"
Larias hehs, her head falling so that it leans against the top his shoulder, "No.. no we don't. Not in our way, always have to do it the hard and impossible way. Always have to scratch, tooth and claw to get where we should be." Her voice drops a notch, "Only for me to lose it, and send us back to where we started from all over again." She leans back at that moment, not quite pulling away, "I just can't take the baiting, Kureel, I was used to, but Kifah..." Her head shakes, that is one thing she almost regrets, causing Kifah hurt in all this. It was never her intention to nearly kill Kureel, no, her intention was to nearly kill Tsoran, not that that is much better.
Savith hugs Larias to him, still quivering deep down. Of course, the wet uniform and cold stone floor aint helping. "She's upset about what you did to Kureel, is all. She doesn't understand, as I do, why you did as you did. Plus you'll be twice a mother, and she nothing. It urks her that her mate has Recognized another." Eyes growing distant, Savith's brows draw together. "I can only hope that for her sake, and Kureel's, WInnowill sees the child given to them, so at least it would be hers to rear." You know. Of course, WInnowill might be able to do more, but hey, it's all good.
Larias lets out a bit of a choked sound, "For all I know, this one may as well be given to Kifah and Kureel to raise." Her head shakes back and forth, "No.. no that's not true. I.. I don't think it is. My head, it hurts so much sometimes, I don't remember everything the way I should." She clings to her mate, resting her head against him again, "I.. I stayed away longer this time. I kept my mind to myself longer this time. That's better, right? I'm doing better?" Not perfect, just better...
Savith nods as he brushes back some hair. Yeah, he put on his helmet but still that lock of hair, the one curl pokes out. "Yes, you're doing better. Much
better. I'm sorry about hte headaches. I know. I feel sometimes. I wish... I wish I could do something..."
*"It'll be over soon, right? Only another turn, and then.. it'll be over." The pregnancy she means of course, that much of uncertainty will be finished. Larias thunks her head against Savith's shoulder, "If.. if it.. if she looks, like Kureel, should.. what should I, we do?"
That actually makes Savith chuckle. "She won't. You were already pregant when that happened." **Remember,** he prompts, bringing forth that happy memory of when you told him. 'I'm... we're going to have another.' That was the BEST! Forget all this
worrying over who's it is. JUst look at the facts. It ain't Kureel's, and therefore can't be Tsoran's. I mean, really. Bun was in the oven just after she returned from outside. Which means.... maybe someone from outside, but then no one would be able to say WHO she looks like, right?
Larias throws her arms around Savith bowling him over as she launches into a big bear style hug, her eyes squeezed shut for an entirely different reason than before. ** Actually, I had forgotten, so many seem to say so many different things, its all.. gotten confused for me. ** And the headaches of course don't
help.
Savith topples over as Larias barrals into him. "oof," but the sound is happy, and he's smiling. **You'd forget everything, wouldn't you,** he quips, teasing lightly, more relaxed now that he has been in a while. **If I wasn't here.** Heehee... **Like the fact that i"m soaked! COme on. Let me up so I can dry off and we can go to bed.**
Finally, a lighthearted sound escapes from Larias as she takes a few moments to lay atop her mate, its not such a bad place to be. Leaning down, she rubs her nose against his in a quick nuzzle before rising just enough to pull blankets off the nearby bed, and down atop the pair. "You don't need to get up to go to bed." She grins, as the blankets fall in his face, but quickly she gets them set up, "If you need to get undressed, you can do so under the covers, with me." Fight and make up, what better way to end a day. "Though, you'll have to brush the lights out with
thought."
"I can do that," comes the lighthearted reply, as a full smile blooms to life. And out go the lights on the now happy couple.
Rock Garden
Hidden lights weave tangled shadows in the frozen beauty of the gardens. A dim memory of the dappled play of sunlight through leaves, the patches of light reflect off manycolored stone shapes that echo the essence of trees and bushes and tangled vines; and plants whose like has never been seen on the world of Two Moons.
Several reaching pillars sprout branchlike tendrils that reach for walls and ceiling as if to support them. Clusters of smaller shapes, bringing to mind flowers and birds, emerge from the clinging branches - skillfully drawn forth from smaller veins of softly colored rock.
Seats shaped like crouched animals, beaked and taloned, have been covered with soft furs to invite to restful contemplation of the gardens. The distant walls of the garden appears as an interlaced mass of entwined rock, forming loops and mazes, scattered with random bulbs bursting with the promise of leaves, or flowers..or other things.
Drafts can be felt from deep within the walls, hinting at hidden shafts and openings.
Now that Elian's no longer the Chosen toy-du-jour, he's actually got free time. And time to rest, even! So a few weeks later, between the food-intensive environment of the kitchen and the constant workload of the Chosen - damn, he's looking good, even if he's still a tall scrawny sod. The crow's feet have retreated slightly, and he's actually playing in the rock garden, trying to catch and throw a small ball on the end of his everpresent broom. Weird. But which end? The stick side or the bristle side?
Savith was visiting his mother, you know, the one that was around, and even left Rosendo in her care. Though not on active Duty at the moment, as Head CHosen,
Savith is ever on call, and so must be ready to fly at a moment's notice. With mate currently seeing to Tsoran and unvavailable to care for the child, Savith is left with few otions. ONe of which is take the boy to work, which never really works out the way Savith needs it to. FLying in from the Rose Garden, CHosen spots birth father. Recalling the odd conversation with Malene the other day, Savith isn't quite sure how to approach Elian. Options again: Everyone knows they are family, even Winnowill declared it, and so he could be cruel and start calling Elian father and be all nice and stuff to get in under the armor and...
The bristle side. He's not THAT good. LOL He should have lessons then. Hey, he's comfortable with this. Unlike fatherhood, huh? In fact, Elian's given up on fatherhood altogether. Last he knew, Savith was denying it vehemently and using every available opportunity to try and twist the knife - which seems a little contradictory, but very little of the situation makes sense anyway. So he's just letting it pass, and keeping his love for his son deep down with everything else, hiding it behind the half-smile, and the yelp that comes as he loses control and the ball bounces away. He runs after it, vaulting over a bench and "sweeping" it up with the bristles, then erks as he straightens up and spots Savith. Oh, don't mind him, just the crazy kitchen servant at play again. "Clear skies, Chosen..."
Savith lifts a brow as Elian loses the ball and goes scurrying after it. "Interesting game," Savith comments as the shaper greets him. "I'll have to see Rosendo try it." And then a smirk, and Savith makes a little circle with a finger, "But with the other end, of course." Well, as far as Fatherhood goes, Savith had given up on it too, given that he did Elian and Tarek twenty times worse than they did him. He made SURE they knew it was HE that did the leaving. It killed one of hte girls too. Rosendo has been a saving grace, though it reopenned many wounds. At least the centuries old infections are starting to drain?
Elian chuckles, and with a familiar twist, spins the broom around the ball before flipping it up in the air and snatching it. "A habit I picked up, from my time amongst the Chosen, I've grown rather fond of this tool. How can I help you, Savith? I'm not on Duty right now, but if you want me to send to the kitchen for something, I wouldn't mind." Ahh, but Elian doesn't know this - after all, baby boy has been VERY forthcoming about his past, but he can't pick up EVERYTHING...
Savith purses his lips lightly, but shakes his head. "I don't need anything," he replies, lifting a hand as if to stay Elian from going anywhere. "Take your rest as you can." Look! A responsible Savvy! "We have a similar training tool. It has been a long time since I've had to impliment them, so thank you for reminding me of it."
Elian tilts his head curiously, tucking the broom under an arm with pursed lips. "Oh? I hadn't realized there were other tools available... what does it look like? Where do you keep them? I've only seen the Chosen from the end perspective, of course, I've never seen that side of things, and Lord Winnowill DID want me to understand them completely..."
Monday, March 15, 2004
Roller Coaster Emotions
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.Rock Garden
Hidden lights weave tangled shadows in the frozen beauty of the gardens. A dim memory of the dappled play of sunlight through leaves, the patches of light reflect off manycolored stone shapes that echo the essence of trees and bushes and tangled vines; and plants whose like has never been seen on the world of Two Moons.
Several reaching pillars sprout branchlike tendrils that reach for walls and ceiling as if to support them. Clusters of smaller shapes, bringing to mind flowers and birds, emerge from the clinging branches - skillfully drawn forth from smaller veins of softly colored rock.
Seats shaped like crouched animals, beaked and taloned, have been covered with soft furs to invite to restful contemplation of the gardens. The distant walls of the garden appears as an interlaced mass of entwined rock, forming loops and mazes, scattered with random bulbs bursting with the promise of leaves, or flowers..or other things.
Drafts can be felt from deep within the walls, hinting at hidden shafts and openings.
Now that Elian's no longer the Chosen toy-du-jour, he's actually got free time. And time to rest, even! So a few weeks later, between the food-intensive environment of the kitchen and the constant workload of the Chosen - damn, he's looking good, even if he's still a tall scrawny sod. The crow's feet have retreated slightly, and he's actually playing in the rock garden, trying to catch and throw a small ball on the end of his everpresent broom. Weird. But which end? The stick side or the bristle side?
Savith was visiting his mother, you know, the one that was around, and even left Rosendo in her care. Though not on active Duty at the moment, as Head CHosen,
Savith is ever on call, and so must be ready to fly at a moment's notice. With mate currently seeing to Tsoran and unvavailable to care for the child, Savith is left with few otions. ONe of which is take the boy to work, which never really works out the way Savith needs it to. FLying in from the Rose Garden, CHosen spots birth father. Recalling the odd conversation with Malene the other day, Savith isn't quite sure how to approach Elian. Options again: Everyone knows they are family, even Winnowill declared it, and so he could be cruel and start calling Elian father and be all nice and stuff to get in under the armor and...
The bristle side. He's not THAT good. LOL He should have lessons then. Hey, he's comfortable with this. Unlike fatherhood, huh? In fact, Elian's given up on fatherhood altogether. Last he knew, Savith was denying it vehemently and using every available opportunity to try and twist the knife - which seems a little contradictory, but very little of the situation makes sense anyway. So he's just letting it pass, and keeping his love for his son deep down with everything else, hiding it behind the half-smile, and the yelp that comes as he loses control and the ball bounces away. He runs after it, vaulting over a bench and "sweeping" it up with the bristles, then erks as he straightens up and spots Savith. Oh, don't mind him, just the crazy kitchen servant at play again. "Clear skies, Chosen..."
Savith lifts a brow as Elian loses the ball and goes scurrying after it. "Interesting game," Savith comments as the shaper greets him. "I'll have to see Rosendo try it." And then a smirk, and Savith makes a little circle with a finger, "But with the other end, of course." Well, as far as Fatherhood goes, Savith had given up on it too, given that he did Elian and Tarek twenty times worse than they did him. He made SURE they knew it was HE that did the leaving. It killed one of hte girls too. Rosendo has been a saving grace, though it reopenned many wounds. At least the centuries old infections are starting to drain?
Elian chuckles, and with a familiar twist, spins the broom around the ball before flipping it up in the air and snatching it. "A habit I picked up, from my time amongst the Chosen, I've grown rather fond of this tool. How can I help you, Savith? I'm not on Duty right now, but if you want me to send to the kitchen for something, I wouldn't mind." Ahh, but Elian doesn't know this - after all, baby boy has been VERY forthcoming about his past, but he can't pick up EVERYTHING...
Savith purses his lips lightly, but shakes his head. "I don't need anything," he replies, lifting a hand as if to stay Elian from going anywhere. "Take your rest as you can." Look! A responsible Savvy! "We have a similar training tool. It has been a long time since I've had to impliment them, so thank you for reminding me of it."
Elian tilts his head curiously, tucking the broom under an arm with pursed lips. "Oh? I hadn't realized there were other tools available... what does it look like? Where do you keep them? I've only seen the Chosen from the end perspective, of course, I've never seen that side of things, and Lord Winnowill DID want me to understand them completely..."
Did She, now? Savith tilts his head, oh so very hawk-like, to study Elian. And his mind flickers out, checking on things, making sure his attention will not be needed, and if so, getting a vague sense of time until it will be. Things settled, the Chosen settles himself to the ground in front of Elian with little thought. "There are many tools used to train Chosen in matters of the hunt. Typically, they are kept where only a Chosen can get them, and if I can answer a question for so ancient a glider, I am ever ready to Serve." Turn the tables on ya, Pops. ;) A Chosen serves the Mountain. Double edged-knife though, so take care.
Elian half-smiles, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I wouldn't want to intrude on Chosen territory, though. It's all right, I'll stay with what I've got - after all, those are tools for the Chosen, they have a purpose. No one will miss this, on the other hand..." He nods to the broom with a chuckle. "It's served for a long time, but it's been dismissed without a thought, it's kind of sad but what else can we do? At least I've found a use for it now, even if it's not what one might expect." He holds the broom out, tossing the ball back up in the air and catching it handily in the bristles, carefully bouncing it against a nearby wall and catching it again on the flipside.
Savith watches the ball-bouncing. Hmm... with the right modifications, this could be a good catch-a-preserver type training. There's a half-grin! Wooo! Point: Elian! Savith grinned! Folding his arms over his chest, Savith just replies, "I said that their location was for a Chosen to know." But that does imply that only those being TRAINED for CHosen get to play with them. Though it is interesting to see how Elian has brought something with little current use into a state of usefulness. "But the broom is a good tool for you now, I think." Now, the quesiton is... does Savith up the anty and give the ball a flick with magic. To keep Elian on his toes... honest!
Tsoran drifts in, as is his habit silent as a shadow.
lian half-grins, almost unconsciously, as he upends the broom, concentration wavering as the ball balances on the ratty end. The ball is pretty ratty itself, for the record, just a bundle of rags tied tightly together. "Not being Chosen myself, I think... it's probably just as well..." Then he erks, as it drops off towards the floor, and snaps the broom around its axis, dropping to scoop it up just before it hits the floor. Surprisingly graceful, that. Maybe there IS something to this broom stuff? Nah. It's not Chosen training, after all.
Savith chuckles faintly as Elian nearly drops the ball, but does seem impressed, despite himself, at the shaper's moves. And again, the thought to see if actually calling the elf 'father' would upset him flickers to mind. After all, it made him uneasy whenever Ekana said it, and he would fire right back with a terse 'daughter'. OOh... gotta DROOL on those love-to-hate/hate-to-love relationships, huh?
Elian starts straightening up, then gahs again as the ball suddenly tips and drops to the floor. Whoops, lost control. Did he? The broom was steady as a rock, but... oh well. He doesn't seem too surprised, "sweeping" it up again and snagging it in his free hand. Let's see, wasn't Savith, Kureel's still eating, and... hm. "Clear skies, Tsoran," he says with a half-smile, not turning around. "I'm still learning, really," he adds to Savith, "but it passes the time."
Tsoran says "All it needs now is learning to watch your back at the same time, and you'll be all ready to join the Chosen." He drifts to the floor, nodding politely to the other Chosen. "Savith."
Savith snorts at Tsoran's comment. "Tsoran," he greets with a nod. Smirking as he replies, "Can't teach an old bird new tricks, Tsoran. This one'll never be a Chosen." Rosendo, on the other hand. MUHAHAHAH. Oh sorry. Fatherly pride rearing its head. Green eyes flicking back to Elian Savith lifts a brow, "YOu have free time? I'm glad to hear that." But for what evil
purpose is he glad? MUHAHAHHAHAHAH Oh sorry. Chosenly pride rearing its head.
lian chuckles, turning to look at Tsoran. "A broom has a lot of uses, but I don't think keeping an eye out is one of them. Unless you prop it against a door or something, so it clatters on the floor, but... a Chosen? I somehow doubt that, not being a floater and all, I'll ever manage to live up to your exacting standards. I'll just have to be content with who I am, that's all." He nods to Savith. "Not a lot, but my Duty rarely calls me when my shift is up anymore, only every once in a while. The kitchen staff is generally competent enough without my thumb-fingered help."
Tsoran murmurs. "Such a friendly fellow, isn't he. Well, I have a duty calling."
Savith watches as Tsoran so promptly leaves. A faint, cold, cruel, grin flashes across Savith's features while a rock shaper drifts through the area, on the way to the Cage. Did Savith arrange that? Surely not! He's a NICE Head Chosen. Glancing at Elian, Savith's grin fades to a smirk. "Well, perhaps, if you need something more to do, I can think of things."
Elian tilts his head and chuckles, partly at Savith's words and partly at Tsoran's abrupt passing-through. Go figure - he can never tell when Tsoran's settling in for a prolonged bout of- well, being Tsoran, or when he's just dropping by for a quickie. "I wouldn't want to interfere with my duties, really, but I thank you for the thought, Chosen. No, I just have enough time to rest, and without anyone to care for I have to take matters-" He glances down at the broom. "Into my own hands."
AH! THe perfect time to strike. As Elian opens himself for the attack, Savith takes it, cruelty flashing into those green eyes. "Entirely your own doing, that. Father." And that last word, so carefully spoken as Savith stands on the ground before Elian, arms crosses. Now, watch which way the knife twists.
Well, Elian can't always be on his guard... he half-smiles, looking up. "I know. What of your own
duties? I wouldn't want to keep you from them, I know things are always hectic for you." Aww, no blood? No cringe? Not that can be seen. That half-smile is awfully alien to Savith, but then again, it has been ever since that scene where Lord Winnowill decreed his punishment.
Ooh.. No reaction. Savith's eyes narrow faintly as the smirk fades to a cold thin line. "My duties are ever-present at the moment, but nothing too... hectic, as you said." Means Savith's got time to kill... so to speak. "Besides, if My Lord decreed you to learn more about hte Chosen, it is within my Duties to see to that, as I lead the Chosen now, don't you think?" Come on... where's the reaction? Where's the cringe?
What reaction? Maybe Elian doesn't care anymore. Wouldn't that be a trip? Or maybe he's just hiding it deep, down inside, with his true feel- nah, he just don't care, that's got to be it. He tilts his head, a hand absent-mindedly rubbing at his far arm. "I'm sure she didn't intend for me to interfere with the true Chosen's Duties, but - if you have any words of wisdom, I'd love to hear them."
Words of wisdom, hmm? Savith's eyes narrow to emerald chips, and his arms uncoil. It's slow, the circling Savith starts of Elian, like a hawk circling a patch of grass to drop and scoop up the ravvit in its talons. NO reaction? Bullshit. There's got to be a reaction. "One would think /you/ would have given those to me," he starts coldly lashing out with blame.
Elian sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as the broom drops, bristles grounding and leaning on the handle, turning to regard Savith almost gently. "I know you hurt, Savith, and I have apologized. There's nothing more I can do." There's that half-smile again. "I don't think this has anything to do with the Chosen, either, so I'll get back to my Duty and you to yours..."
Trolls shoot him from the sky! Elian's just ... not... REACTING! GAH! "True enough," Savith admits once the circuit is complete and he returns to face Elian. "What questions do you have about the Chosen that have been dying to have answered," he asks, a very faint sneer upon his features which the Head Chosen works to schools away.
Tsoran returns from his call to duty, obviously.
Hmmm, the rockgarden. Lost in thoughts, the ever-so smoothly moving elfess almost sleepwalks through the garden of rock, like a lost raindrop over skin. She is balancing a long-necked carafe on her small hips, and holding a tablet with four elegant goblets in the
other hand. Unlike other times where she simply walks in and out through a scene like a ghost, she notices this time the voices that seep through the garden. From far she calls herself back into this place, yet hesitating to walk into the scene between Elian and Savith, and even moreso that Tsoran appears. Not even hiding, she just remains standing where she is,
waiting, listening, watching.
Elian chuckles, shrugging a shoulder. "None that come to mind, though I do wonder about those training tools - you've already said they're for a Chosen to know, though, so I guess I'll just have to use my imagination." Fingers tap upon the broom, and he hooks it up, settling it over a shoulder. "Gone, but not forgotten," he remarks a little cryptically. "Is there anything you've ever wondered about the kitchen?" A true half-grin, as humor touches his expression. "That
you wouldn't regret finding out?"
Tsoran murmurs. "Such a pretty sight. I believe I shall not intrude."
Tsoran heads towards Around The Cage
Tsoran has left.
More's being said here than it seems, for Elian's words of gone, but not forgotten, recieve a
full-fledged sneer. "Unfortanely," he nearly growls back in reply, stepping from Elian one full step. Calm. Calm. You don't win if you react first. "The kitchen's business I have seen to. I doubt they would change anything since I was a youth." AHA!! Savith worked the kitchen's too! Ryn's here? She's not noticed, considering Savvy's back is to her.
Elian spreads his hand, ball tucked between thumb and palm. "Likely not, they didn't change much from what I'd remembered either. Some things really never do change, I guess." No, Ryn isn't noticed, considering Savith's doing his best to twist the knife and it's not... really working. But it certainly has Elian's attention, doesn't it? "Give my best to Rosendo and Larias, please? My Duty may not take all my time, but it does take most of the /useful/ time, I haven't had much opportunity to see anyone lately."
Things don't change. Right. And Savith's Lord of Blue Mountain. But it does give the Chosen the moment he needs to find calm again, and at the request to pass on things to beloved family, Savith grins. "Oh, most certainly Larias would love to see you in person. So no. Give her your 'best' all on your own," he says, though what he's not saying is... also important.
That's odd... usually, Savith would rather keep them nice and far away. Has something else happened? But in any case, Elian chuckles, nodding. "Should we cross paths, I will be sure and do so. Do you know where she's at, by any chance? Is she asleep?"
You locksend to Larias, Savith checks up on you. Where are you?
Savith flickers a locksend. Ah. There. "She is busy at her own Duties," Savith replies, and with Tsoran busy that means it's not with HIM. ;) "She should comes down here when she is done, if you'd like to wait." Cause right now, Savvy's got all day.
Tsoran drifts over to Ryn, paying no heed to the happy couple of Elian and Savith.
That's also odd. Usually, Savith would also rather keep nice and far away from Elian as well. The ex-shaper-ex-servant tilts his head. "If we happen to cross paths, I wouldn't mind at all. I do have my own Duties, but not for a time yet..."
Ryn flickers a smile at both Elian and Savith's ongoing, as well as Tsoran's arrival. Nodding, she lifts the carafe to fill one of the fine goblets with wine, holding out the tablet to Tsoran to pick it. "It's the freshest I could find, without the other servants thinning it too much", tells her soft voice, looking at Tsoran with slightly tilted head.
Well. That's what happens to an elf when his mate isn't given him her full attention. Strange strange things. Savith, hearing another voice, turns and finally spots Ryn. Hm...an audience. and no telling how long she'd been there either. Puckernuts. Turningback to Elian, Savith regains that grin, "I see. Well, do enjoy your rest." Playing nice! Honest!
Elian chuckles and nods. "Clear skies, Chosen." An audience? Well, what else is new? Might as well sit down, he's not going to start toying with the broom with Tsoran around. It's an Elian thing in any case...
Tsoran accepts the wine, smiling to Ryn. ** Thank you, my dear, it is appreciated. ** He glances over to Savith, and raises the goblet in a toast. ** Sure you won't join us in a drink, Brother? **
Savith turns his gaze to Tsoran. Wine. Hmm.. But having gotten as close to a farewell from Elian as Savith feels truely comfortable with, the Head Chosen drifts from the ground to fly over. **Half a glass only, Ryn,** he agrees.
Tsoran locksends ** You're a better elf than me, Brother. I'd have dropped him from the bridge by now. **
Tsoran's smile is replied with a smile as well, and as he looks over to Savith, she looks over to Elian, as if Tsoran's invitation was spoken out for Elian as well - just one her side. As the leader of the Chosen approaches her, she nods and fills half a goblet for him, holding the tablet out to him to grab his drink.
You sense in a locksend, Larias is inside the Mountain of course, being stoic and remaining calm, - where else would she feel nervous and wild, yet force herself to remain calm, cool and collected...
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith hmphs softly in reply. **I must lead by example, Brother.**
Elian shakes his head, smiling, to Ryn's invitation-by-proxy. Actually, he'd as soon slip away to his chambers the moment the opportunity presents itself... got things to think about, now.
You locksend to Larias, Savith seems... pleased you're remaining so calm, and given where you are to boot! Rock on Larias!
Tsoran sips his wine, making an appreciative sound.
Tsoran locksends ** And you do so most well. A quite suitable replacement for our poor distracted Kureel. **
You locksend ** The time's not right to beat him so, after all. ;)** Savith quips just before your next thought drifts to him, but when he does, he replies smartly, **Yes. Poor distracted Kureel. And yourself? I do hope my mate is not too distracting for you. ** to Tsoran.
Tsoran sends openly ** I am pleased that the gardens are still producing a sufficient amount of wine. One hears rumors the vines have been doing less wall of late. ** Tsoran regards Savith as he sends, somewhat thoughtfully.
Tsoran locksends ** Less a distraction to me than to herself, Brother. Perhaps it is time she was dismissed from my serivce. **
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith seems a bit pleased to hear that. **Yes. My mother is run tired with Rosendo's care. It is time for Larias to be a mother again.** A pause. **I shall see it she is dismissed.**
Tsoran locksends ** If you are confident of her mothering skills, I am agreeable with that. She does seem a touch wavering of temperament. **
You locksend ** There is only one way to learn to be a parent, Brother. I am confident that Rosendo needs both mother and father, though I shall see to this
temperament, if you would enlighten me with what you have seen. ** to Tsoran.
Savith carries on a brief locksend conversation with Tsoran, sipping at his wine. "Hmm... quite good. My thanks, Ryn." Elian is categorically ignored for now.
Must rethink plan of attack.
Categorically ignored, Elian slips away...
Tsoran glances in the direction of the disappearing Elian before turning his attention back on his companions.
[Mountain] Finding a way to knock down Door and Brace, Savith cackles.
[Mountain] Clinically Insane Larias tries on a new one too?
[Mountain] Categorically ignored, Elian braces the Door!
Tsoran locksends ** Such an ambivalent reaction to closeness, that one. Yearning for it in one moment, and fiercely fighting it the next. Living must her for any duration must be rather...stressful. **
[Mountain] Categorically ignored, Elian says, "She appreciates my... support."
[Mountain] Categorically ignored, Elian has been rock-hard for six thousand turns, there are some long-lasting effects that are well and truly appreciated by those in the know.
[Mountain] Phantom Tsoran just washes his mind out with soap.
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith Hmms softly. **Given how touch felt for her for so long, it is mostly understandable. It has been a long process to get her to show as much trust as she has.**
Ryn dips a slight bow with her head, holding her hand out to one of the benches, "Wouldn't you like to sit and rest for a while? This wine is not to be drunken
in haste." A warm smile comes to her lips as she says that. Whatever makes her so friendly today, she might also just want to give the two Chosen a moment of
peace.
You locksend to Larias, Savith almost wonders if your ears are burning as he talks about you.
[OOC] Ryn should have written Rest instead of Peace
[OOC] Tsoran says, "No peace for the wicked."
[OOC] Savith says, "And no rest for hte weary."
[OOC] Elian says, "And no escape for the bleeding."
Tsoran sends openly ** Thank you, Ryn, but duty calls again too soon. I do appreciate the moment of refreshment before returning to less cultured tasks. **
Tsoran locksends ** Trust... well, I suppose there is some use for it. She seemed quite worried about loosing yours. **
You sense in a locksend, Larias turns her attention to your mind, ** Hmm? ** She can feel the attention you are placing on her, though she doesn't know the why of
it.
Savith sips lightly, saying little as he savors the wine. But unliek Tsoran, Savith does take a seat on the offered bench. After a long moment of sending, he replies, "If you both are called elsewhere, it is understood." He nods to Tsoran, "A Chosen flies to Obey, after all."
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith smirks faintly, **Soulmates. Yes, losing my trust is something she fears greatly but not something to be lightly pulled at. It took more than turns to calm her so.** Of course it did! It tok his SOUL man.
Tsoran murmurs over his wine. "Obedience is a virtue. More should learn it."
You sense in a locksend, Tsoran whispers quiet softly against your mind. ** Is it worth the price? **
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith brushes at you in annoyance as you whisper luxeriously into his mind. **Hmph,** is the near-sound his mind seems to make at yours. **Go make asingle pass at the summit to see if Winddance is on her way, then go hunting. THe kitchen needs more work.** And then give Savith and Larias some alone time. ;)
Monday, March 15, 2004
Roller Coaster Emotions
Logfile from Two Moons - Savith.Rock Garden
Hidden lights weave tangled shadows in the frozen beauty of the gardens. A dim memory of the dappled play of sunlight through leaves, the patches of light reflect off manycolored stone shapes that echo the essence of trees and bushes and tangled vines; and plants whose like has never been seen on the world of Two Moons.
Several reaching pillars sprout branchlike tendrils that reach for walls and ceiling as if to support them. Clusters of smaller shapes, bringing to mind flowers and birds, emerge from the clinging branches - skillfully drawn forth from smaller veins of softly colored rock.
Seats shaped like crouched animals, beaked and taloned, have been covered with soft furs to invite to restful contemplation of the gardens. The distant walls of the garden appears as an interlaced mass of entwined rock, forming loops and mazes, scattered with random bulbs bursting with the promise of leaves, or flowers..or other things.
Drafts can be felt from deep within the walls, hinting at hidden shafts and openings.
Now that Elian's no longer the Chosen toy-du-jour, he's actually got free time. And time to rest, even! So a few weeks later, between the food-intensive environment of the kitchen and the constant workload of the Chosen - damn, he's looking good, even if he's still a tall scrawny sod. The crow's feet have retreated slightly, and he's actually playing in the rock garden, trying to catch and throw a small ball on the end of his everpresent broom. Weird. But which end? The stick side or the bristle side?
Savith was visiting his mother, you know, the one that was around, and even left Rosendo in her care. Though not on active Duty at the moment, as Head CHosen,
Savith is ever on call, and so must be ready to fly at a moment's notice. With mate currently seeing to Tsoran and unvavailable to care for the child, Savith is left with few otions. ONe of which is take the boy to work, which never really works out the way Savith needs it to. FLying in from the Rose Garden, CHosen spots birth father. Recalling the odd conversation with Malene the other day, Savith isn't quite sure how to approach Elian. Options again: Everyone knows they are family, even Winnowill declared it, and so he could be cruel and start calling Elian father and be all nice and stuff to get in under the armor and...
The bristle side. He's not THAT good. LOL He should have lessons then. Hey, he's comfortable with this. Unlike fatherhood, huh? In fact, Elian's given up on fatherhood altogether. Last he knew, Savith was denying it vehemently and using every available opportunity to try and twist the knife - which seems a little contradictory, but very little of the situation makes sense anyway. So he's just letting it pass, and keeping his love for his son deep down with everything else, hiding it behind the half-smile, and the yelp that comes as he loses control and the ball bounces away. He runs after it, vaulting over a bench and "sweeping" it up with the bristles, then erks as he straightens up and spots Savith. Oh, don't mind him, just the crazy kitchen servant at play again. "Clear skies, Chosen..."
Savith lifts a brow as Elian loses the ball and goes scurrying after it. "Interesting game," Savith comments as the shaper greets him. "I'll have to see Rosendo try it." And then a smirk, and Savith makes a little circle with a finger, "But with the other end, of course." Well, as far as Fatherhood goes, Savith had given up on it too, given that he did Elian and Tarek twenty times worse than they did him. He made SURE they knew it was HE that did the leaving. It killed one of hte girls too. Rosendo has been a saving grace, though it reopenned many wounds. At least the centuries old infections are starting to drain?
Elian chuckles, and with a familiar twist, spins the broom around the ball before flipping it up in the air and snatching it. "A habit I picked up, from my time amongst the Chosen, I've grown rather fond of this tool. How can I help you, Savith? I'm not on Duty right now, but if you want me to send to the kitchen for something, I wouldn't mind." Ahh, but Elian doesn't know this - after all, baby boy has been VERY forthcoming about his past, but he can't pick up EVERYTHING...
Savith purses his lips lightly, but shakes his head. "I don't need anything," he replies, lifting a hand as if to stay Elian from going anywhere. "Take your rest as you can." Look! A responsible Savvy! "We have a similar training tool. It has been a long time since I've had to impliment them, so thank you for reminding me of it."
Elian tilts his head curiously, tucking the broom under an arm with pursed lips. "Oh? I hadn't realized there were other tools available... what does it look like? Where do you keep them? I've only seen the Chosen from the end perspective, of course, I've never seen that side of things, and Lord Winnowill DID want me to understand them completely..."
Did She, now? Savith tilts his head, oh so very hawk-like, to study Elian. And his mind flickers out, checking on things, making sure his attention will not be needed, and if so, getting a vague sense of time until it will be. Things settled, the Chosen settles himself to the ground in front of Elian with little thought. "There are many tools used to train Chosen in matters of the hunt. Typically, they are kept where only a Chosen can get them, and if I can answer a question for so ancient a glider, I am ever ready to Serve." Turn the tables on ya, Pops. ;) A Chosen serves the Mountain. Double edged-knife though, so take care.
Elian half-smiles, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I wouldn't want to intrude on Chosen territory, though. It's all right, I'll stay with what I've got - after all, those are tools for the Chosen, they have a purpose. No one will miss this, on the other hand..." He nods to the broom with a chuckle. "It's served for a long time, but it's been dismissed without a thought, it's kind of sad but what else can we do? At least I've found a use for it now, even if it's not what one might expect." He holds the broom out, tossing the ball back up in the air and catching it handily in the bristles, carefully bouncing it against a nearby wall and catching it again on the flipside.
Savith watches the ball-bouncing. Hmm... with the right modifications, this could be a good catch-a-preserver type training. There's a half-grin! Wooo! Point: Elian! Savith grinned! Folding his arms over his chest, Savith just replies, "I said that their location was for a Chosen to know." But that does imply that only those being TRAINED for CHosen get to play with them. Though it is interesting to see how Elian has brought something with little current use into a state of usefulness. "But the broom is a good tool for you now, I think." Now, the quesiton is... does Savith up the anty and give the ball a flick with magic. To keep Elian on his toes... honest!
Tsoran drifts in, as is his habit silent as a shadow.
Elian half-grins, almost unconsciously, as he upends the broom, concentration wavering as the ball balances on the ratty end. The ball is pretty ratty itself, for the record, just a bundle of rags tied tightly together. "Not being Chosen myself, I think... it's probably just as well..." Then he erks, as it drops off towards the floor, and snaps the broom around its axis, dropping to scoop it up just before it hits the floor. Surprisingly graceful, that. Maybe there IS something to this broom stuff? Nah. It's not Chosen training, after all.
Savith chuckles faintly as Elian nearly drops the ball, but does seem impressed, despite himself, at the shaper's moves. And again, the thought to see if actually calling the elf 'father' would upset him flickers to mind. After all, it made him uneasy whenever Ekana said it, and he would fire right back with a terse 'daughter'. OOh... gotta DROOL on those love-to-hate/hate-to-love relationships, huh?
Elian starts straightening up, then gahs again as the ball suddenly tips and drops to the floor. Whoops, lost control. Did he? The broom was steady as a rock, but... oh well. He doesn't seem too surprised, "sweeping" it up again and snagging it in his free hand. Let's see, wasn't Savith, Kureel's still eating, and... hm. "Clear skies, Tsoran," he says with a half-smile, not turning around. "I'm still learning, really," he adds to Savith, "but it passes the time."
Tsoran says "All it needs now is learning to watch your back at the same time, and you'll be all ready to join the Chosen." He drifts to the floor, nodding politely to the other Chosen. "Savith."
Savith snorts at Tsoran's comment. "Tsoran," he greets with a nod. Smirking as he replies, "Can't teach an old bird new tricks, Tsoran. This one'll never be a Chosen." Rosendo, on the other hand. MUHAHAHAH. Oh sorry. Fatherly pride rearing its head. Green eyes flicking back to Elian Savith lifts a brow, "YOu have free time? I'm glad to hear that." But for what evil
purpose is he glad? MUHAHAHHAHAHAH Oh sorry. Chosenly pride reating its head.
Elian chuckles, turning to look at Tsoran. "A broom has a lot of uses, but I don't think keeping an eye out is one of them. Unless you prop it against a door or something, so it clatters on the floor, but... a Chosen? I somehow doubt that, not being a floater and all, I'll ever manage to live up to your exacting standards. I'll just have to be content with who I am, that's all." He nods to Savith. "Not a lot, but my Duty rarely calls me when my shift is up anymore, only every once in a while. The kitchen staff is generally competent enough without my thumb-fingered help."
Tsoran murmurs. "Such a friendly fellow, isn't he. Well, I have a duty calling."
Savith watches as Tsoran so promptly leaves. A faint, cold, cruel, grin flashes across Savith's features while a rock shaper drifts through the area, on the way to the Cage. Did Savith arrange that? Surely not! He's a NICE Head Chosen. Glancing at Elian, Savith's grin fades to a smirk. "Well, perhaps, if you need something more to do, I can think of things."
Elian tilts his head and chuckles, partly at Savith's words and partly at Tsoran's abrupt passing-through. Go figure - he can never tell when Tsoran's settling in for a prolonged bout of- well, being Tsoran, or when he's just dropping by for a quickie. "I wouldn't want to interfere with my duties, really, but I thank you for the thought, Chosen. No, I just have enough time to rest, and without anyone to care for I have to take matters-" He glances down at the broom. "Into my own hands."
AH! THe perfect time to strike. As Elian opens himself for the attack, Savith takes it, cruelty flashing into those green eyes. "Entirely your own doing, that. Father." And that last word, so carefully spoken as Savith stands on the ground before Elian, arms crosses. Now, watch which way the knife twists.
Well, Elian can't always be on his guard... he half-smiles, looking up. "I know. What of your own
duties? I wouldn't want to keep you from them, I know things are always hectic for you." Aww, no blood? No cringe? Not that can be seen. That half-smile is awfully alien to Savith, but then again, it has been ever since that scene where Lord Winnowill decreed his punishment.
Ooh.. No reaction. Savith's eyes narrow faintly as the smirk fades to a cold thin line. "My duties are ever-present at the moment, but nothing too... hectic, as you said." Means Savith's got time to kill... so to speak. "Besides, if My Lord decreed you to learn more about hte Chosen, it is within my Duties to see to that, as I lead the Chosen now, don't you think?" Come on... where's the reaction? Where's the cringe?
What reaction? Maybe Elian doesn't care anymore. Wouldn't that be a trip? Or maybe he's just hiding it deep, down inside, with his true feel- nah, he just don't care, that's got to be it. He tilts his head, a hand absent-mindedly rubbing at his far arm. "I'm sure she didn't intend for me to interfere with the true Chosen's Duties, but - if you have any words of wisdom, I'd love to hear them."
Words of wisdom, hmm? Savith's eyes narrow to emerald chips, and his arms uncoil. It's slow, the circling Savith starts of Elian, like a hawk circling a patch of grass to drop and scoop up the ravvit in its talons. NO reaction? Bullshit. There's got to be a reaction. "One would think /you/ would have given those to me," he starts coldly lashing out with blame.
Elian sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as the broom drops, bristles grounding and leaning on the handle, turning to regard Savith almost gently. "I know you hurt, Savith, and I have apologized. There's nothing more I can do." There's that half-smile again. "I don't think this has anything to do with the Chosen, either, so I'll get back to my Duty and you to yours..."
Trolls shoot him from the sky! Elian's just ... not... REACTING! GAH! "True enough," Savith admits once the circuit is complete and he returns to face Elian. "What questions do you have about the Chosen that have been dying to have answered," he asks, a very faint sneer upon his features which the Head Chosen works to schools away.
Tsoran returns from his call to duty, obviously.
Hmmm, the rockgarden. Lost in thoughts, the ever-so smoothly moving elfess almost sleepwalks through the garden of rock, like a lost raindrop over skin. She is balancing a long-necked carafe on her small hips, and holding a tablet with four elegant goblets in the
other hand. Unlike other times where she simply walks in and out through a scene like a ghost, she notices this time the voices that seep through the garden. From far she calls herself back into this place, yet hesitating to walk into the scene between Elian and Savith, and even moreso that Tsoran appears. Not even hiding, she just remains standing where she is,
waiting, listening, watching.
Elian chuckles, shrugging a shoulder. "None that come to mind, though I do wonder about those training tools - you've already said they're for a Chosen to know, though, so I guess I'll just have to use my imagination." Fingers tap upon the broom, and he hooks it up, settling it over a shoulder. "Gone, but not forgotten," he remarks a little cryptically. "Is there anything you've ever wondered about the kitchen?" A true half-grin, as humor touches his expression. "That
you wouldn't regret finding out?"
Tsoran murmurs. "Such a pretty sight. I believe I shall not intrude."
Tsoran heads towards Around The Cage
Tsoran has left.
More's being said here than it seems, for Elian's words of gone, but not forgotten, recieve a
full-fledged sneer. "Unfortanely," he nearly growls back in reply, stepping from Elian one full step. Calm. Calm. You don't win if you react first. "The kitchen's business I have seen to. I doubt they would change anything since I was a youth." AHA!! Savith worked the kitchen's too! Ryn's here? She's not noticed, considering Savvy's back is to her.
Elian spreads his hand, ball tucked between thumb and palm. "Likely not, they didn't change much from what I'd remembered either. Some things really never do change, I guess." No, Ryn isn't noticed, considering Savith's doing his best to twist the knife and it's not... really working. But it certainly has Elian's attention, doesn't it? "Give my best to Rosendo and Larias, please? My Duty may not take all my time, but it does take most of the /useful/ time, I haven't had much opportunity to see anyone lately."
Things don't change. Right. And Savith's Lord of Blue Mountain. But it does give the Chosen the moment he needs to find calm again, and at the request to pass on things to beloved family, Savith grins. "Oh, most certainly Larias would love to see you in person. So no. Give her your 'best' all on your own," he says, though what he's not saying is... also important.
That's odd... usually, Savith would rather keep them nice and far away. Has something else happened? But in any case, Elian chuckles, nodding. "Should we cross paths, I will be sure and do so. Do you know where she's at, by any chance? Is she asleep?"
You locksend to Larias, Savith checks up on you. Where are you?
Savith flickers a locksend. Ah. There. "She is busy at her own Duties," Savith replies, and with Tsoran busy that means it's not with HIM. ;) "She should comes down here when she is done, if you'd like to wait." Cause right now, Savvy's got all day.
Tsoran drifts over to Ryn, paying no heed to the happy couple of Elian and Savith.
That's also odd. Usually, Savith would also rather keep nice and far away from Elian as well. The ex-shaper-ex-servant tilts his head. "If we happen to cross paths, I wouldn't mind at all. I do have my own Duties, but not for a time yet..."
Ryn flickers a smile at both Elian and Savith's ongoing, as well as Tsoran's arrival. Nodding, she lifts the carafe to fill one of the fine goblets with wine, holding out the tablet to Tsoran to pick it. "It's the freshest I could find, without the other servants thinning it too much", tells her soft voice, looking at Tsoran with slightly tilted head.
Well. That's what happens to an elf when his mate isn't given him her full attention. Strange strange things. Savith, hearing another voice, turns and finally spots Ryn. Hm...an audience. and no telling how long she'd been there either. Puckernuts. Turningback to Elian, Savith regains that grin, "I see. Well, do enjoy your rest." Playing nice! Honest!
Elian chuckles and nods. "Clear skies, Chosen." An audience? Well, what else is new? Might as well sit down, he's not going to start toying with the broom with Tsoran around. It's an Elian thing in any case...
Tsoran accepts the wine, smiling to Ryn. ** Thank you, my dear, it is appreciated. ** He glances over to Savith, and raises the goblet in a toast. ** Sure you won't join us in a drink, Brother? **
Savith turns his gaze to Tsoran. Wine. Hmm.. But having gotten as close to a farewell from Elian as Savith feels truely comfortable with, the Head Chosen drifts from the ground to fly over. **Half a glass only, Ryn,** he agrees.
Tsoran locksends ** You're a better elf than me, Brother. I'd have dropped him from the bridge by now. **
Tsoran's smile is replied with a smile as well, and as he looks over to Savith, she looks over to Elian, as if Tsoran's invitation was spoken out for Elian as well - just one her side. As the leader of the Chosen approaches her, she nods and fills half a goblet for him, holding the tablet out to him to grab his drink.
You sense in a locksend, Larias is inside the Mountain of course, being stoic and remaining calm, - where else would she feel nervous and wild, yet force herself to remain calm, cool and collected...
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith hmphs softly in reply. **I must lead by example, Brother.**
Elian shakes his head, smiling, to Ryn's invitation-by-proxy. Actually, he'd as soon slip away to his chambers the moment the opportunity presents itself... got things to think about, now.
You locksend to Larias, Savith seems... pleased you're remaining so calm, and given where you are to boot! Rock on Larias!
Tsoran sips his wine, making an appreciative sound.
Tsoran locksends ** And you do so most well. A quite suitable replacement for our poor distracted Kureel. **
You locksend ** The time's not right to beat him so, after all. ;)** Savith quips just before your next thought drifts to him, but when he does, he replies smartly, **Yes. Poor distracted Kureel. And yourself? I do hope my mate is not too distracting for you. ** to Tsoran.
Tsoran sends openly ** I am pleased that the gardens are still producing a sufficient amount of wine. One hears rumors the vines have been doing less wall of late. ** Tsoran regards Savith as he sends, somewhat thoughtfully.
Tsoran locksends ** Less a distraction to me than to herself, Brother. Perhaps it is time she was dismissed from my serivce. **
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith seems a bit pleased to hear that. **Yes. My mother is run tired with Rosendo's care. It is time for Larias to be a mother again.** A pause. **I shall see it she is dismissed.**
Tsoran locksends ** If you are confident of her mothering skills, I am agreeable with that. She does seem a touch wavering of temperament. **
You locksend ** There is only one way to learn to be a parent, Brother. I am confident that Rosendo needs both mother and father, though I shall see to this
temperament, if you would enlighten me with what you have seen. ** to Tsoran.
Savith carries on a brief locksend conversation with Tsoran, sipping at his wine. "Hmm... quite good. My thanks, Ryn." Elian is categorically ignored for now.
Must rethink plan of attack.
Categorically ignored, Elian slips away...
Tsoran glances in the direction of the disappearing Elian before turning his attention back on his companions.
[Mountain] Finding a way to knock down Door and Brace, Savith cackles.
[Mountain] Clinically Insane Larias tries on a new one too?
[Mountain] Categorically ignored, Elian braces the Door!
Tsoran locksends ** Such an ambivalent reaction to closeness, that one. Yearning for it in one moment, and fiercely fighting it the next. Living must her for any duration must be rather...stressful. **
[Mountain] Categorically ignored, Elian says, "She appreciates my... support."
[Mountain] Categorically ignored, Elian has been rock-hard for six thousand turns, there are some long-lasting effects that are well and truly appreciated by those in the know.
[Mountain] Phantom Tsoran just washes his mind out with soap.
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith Hmms softly. **Given how touch felt for her for so long, it is mostly understandable. It has been a long process to get her to show as much trust as she has.**
Ryn dips a slight bow with her head, holding her hand out to one of the benches, "Wouldn't you like to sit and rest for a while? This wine is not to be drunken
in haste." A warm smile comes to her lips as she says that. Whatever makes her so friendly today, she might also just want to give the two Chosen a moment of
peace.
You locksend to Larias, Savith almost wonders if your ears are burning as he talks about you.
[OOC] Ryn should have written Rest instead of Peace
[OOC] Tsoran says, "No peace for the wicked."
[OOC] Savith says, "And no rest for hte weary."
[OOC] Elian says, "And no escape for the bleeding."
Tsoran sends openly ** Thank you, Ryn, but duty calls again too soon. I do appreciate the moment of refreshment before returning to less cultured tasks. **
Tsoran locksends ** Trust... well, I suppose there is some use for it. She seemed quite worried about loosing yours. **
You sense in a locksend, Larias turns her attention to your mind, ** Hmm? ** She can feel the attention you are placing on her, though she doesn't know the why of
it.
Savith sips lightly, saying little as he savors the wine. But unliek Tsoran, Savith does take a seat on the offered bench. After a long moment of sending, he replies, "If you both are called elsewhere, it is understood." He nods to Tsoran, "A Chosen flies to Obey, after all."
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith smirks faintly, **Soulmates. Yes, losing my trust is something she fears greatly but not something to be lightly pulled at. It took more than turns to calm her so.** Of course it did! It tok his SOUL man.
Tsoran murmurs over his wine. "Obedience is a virtue. More should learn it."
You sense in a locksend, Tsoran whispers quiet softly against your mind. ** Is it worth the price? **
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith brushes at you in annoyance as you whisper luxeriously into his mind. **Hmph,** is the near-sound his mind seems to make at yours. **Go make asingle pass at the summit to see if Winddance is on her way, then go hunting. THe kitchen needs more work.** And then give Savith and Larias some alone time. ;)
You locksend to Larias, Savith's mind reaches for your. A touch annoyed at someone. A touch pleased by something. A touch dark at something else. All in all, a normal Savvy. **When you are done with your work, beloved, I would like some words with you in an official capacity.**
Tsoran gives Savith a deep bow, smiling. ** As the Head of the Chosen wishes, of course. **
You sense in a locksend, Tsoran adds in a locksend, still barely above a mental whisper. ** I do pardon upsetting your harmony with my question. I ask merely
for...information. **
Savith smirks lightly. **As the mountain needs, Brother. Go hunt when you're done with your wine,** he quips lightly. Annoyance fading, Savith lifts a brow
at a private thought, replying as the smirk fades lightly.
You locksend ** So you can make sure your own mate were so obident, Brother? ** to Tsoran.
You sense in a locksend, Larias immediately grows tense and wary all at once, ** Yes... Chosen. ** It seems the best response, if the words are official, isn't Chosen what she should call her mate?
Tsoran locksends ** I have no mate, my Brother. And the one I would have as one, would never be... obedient. **
You locksend to Larias, Savith returns to being a bit chilly of mind, though not at the title, but at the conversation he is having with another's mind. But he does make the mental note to reward Larias for picking up on those not-so-subtle nuiances. **And then some not so official words when all is said and done.**
Savith lifts a brow, then grins darkly. "I suppose, it's all a matter of Trust, then, isn't it," Savith askes publically, moving to stand. But will he answer? The goblet comes to his lips, hding the smirk.
You locksend ** Would you trust me to give you an answer you can work with, and would you trust yourself to try it? Or would I trust you with the answer, given you and my mate's history. ** to Tsoran.
Tsoran places the goblet back on Ryns tablet, lingering his fingers on it for a moment as he looks at Savith.
You sense in a locksend, Larias isn't sure if this is all good things or bad things, even the idea of a nice mate to mate chat seems ominous when following up a mate to Chosen conversation. ** Of course Savith, as soon as I am done here. ** Oh, the pangs of what, guilt hit her, what does she converse with the prisoner about as she works - so many emotions tripping through her mind.
Tsoran locksends ** Ah, my sweet Brother, I have no further interest in your mate. But you... you could do better. And perhaps once the last pangs of Recognition
fade, you will see it yourself. No, do not waste your Trust on me, Savith. You will have better use for it.**
Savith regards Tsoran thoughtfully as his words and emotions from his mate drift across his mind at nearly the same time. Havin taken only a few sips, Savith sets the goblet down. "I see. Then I shall speak with her about it at my first opportunity," he comments aloud.
You locksend ** Pure blooded is far better than wolf blooded, Brother. Remember that. ** to Tsoran.
You locksend to Larias, Savith is a touch unsettled by the emotions, and his reply to his Brother is a bit more... terse than he would have liked given the topic of conversation, and so he dials down the gain on his Larias-o-phone, hoping that'll help matters until he can fly to your side.
You sense in a locksend, Tsoran's sending sparkles with amusement, then brushes against your mind with more than a hint of...sensuality? How spooky. ** I
know it well, Savith. Ask Cothee, sometime. **
Tsoran departs to fullfill his orders, presumably.
Tsoran heads out an opening that leads to a slender stone bridge to the west.
Tsoran has left.
Around the Cage
As the narrow, railing-less stair winds through the wast emptiness of the Mountain, it briefly touches the naked surface of a vertical wall. Where wall and stair meet there is a break in the emptiness, a dark and jagged gap in the smooth wall. Separated from the wide empty space with stone bars from which jagged stone thorns jut, this small alcove is crude and unshaped, a distinctly foreign element in
the intricately woven pattern of the Mountain. It seems almost an afterthought - or perhaps a remnant from times far past.
The crouched birdlike shape holding the flame that lights the winding stair sheds a pale radiance on the ledge in front of the cage, but leaves the interior shaded in darkness.
From behind the bars, Raven is standing with her head resting against the back wall of the cage. Her hair falls in a curtain that obscures most of her face from view but, it is clear that she is looking in Larias' direction. The Chosen guard is watching the two of them with a rather suspicious expression on his face though the two aren't speaking just now.
From behind the bars, Larias is near the front of the cage, down on hands and knees, her dress well, lets just say its seen better days. This hands and knees scrubbing is not what the garment was designed for, that's for sure. She is scrubbing the floor diligently with her rags, periodically dipping them in a bucket to rewet and bring the floor to a lovely shine.
Savith floats up from the Rock Garden. Giving a nod to the Chosen on Duty, Generi, most likely since he gets ALL the shit-shifts, Savith floats over and settles on the other side of hte bars, watching in silence. Last time he saw Larias moving about in the Cage... he was here to torture wasn't he? But hte dress is noted, and not really meaning to sound like days of old, Savith comments softly, "We'll have to see about getting you something more appropriate, Larias."
From behind the bars, Raven doesn't notice Savith's approach or his replacing of Generi. Not until he speaks and then she merely glances in his direction before closing her eyes and returning her thoughts and gaze to wherever they were before. She looks as if she's doing better since the Lord proclaimed that she was to be fed regularly with good food instead of the dregs and after having had a bath but, there are still plenty of signs of the ravages left from the last turn spent languishing within the small cell.
From behind the bars, Larias's head snaps up at the sound of her voice mates, and the words he speaks are not lost on her, nor are the memories that they dredge up. The grip on her rags goes white knuckled, and her voice ends up with an edge to it, "Thats not funny.
You sense in a locksend, Larias recoils at the memory and those words, coupled with her location. Such not a happy memory to share, so hard to maintain calm serenity as the memory flickers and flares to life in her mind. Her mind reaches for another, hoping to concoct an interruption of this duty so she can leave this cage and the way it make sher feel.
Savith recoils slightly from the memories and the emotions he can feel flicker up from Larias. "Ah... that's not what I meant, Larias," Savith retorts, stepping away from the bars in an effort to break the moment. "High ones. Hurry up so we can talk." Raven is ignored. After all, the thief already took what she wanted, didn't she? What more can Savith give her that won't get himself in trouble. Besides that, WInddance
got hte tug and is on her way back. Though the going is slow because, let's face it, Winddance is a bird brain. (Ooh look! A cloud!)
You locksend to Larias, Savith takes the emotions like a slap in the face and so retreats, unlike then, to find a way to steady himself. Oh, but he does so HATE that Kureel ordered this. But if Savith were to undo it it would look odd. To say the least.
Tsoran floats up the stairs, rising from the deep
shadow below.
You sense in a locksend, Larias retreats from your mind as well, trying not to dislodge your balance, while her own teeters and wobbles like a weeble.
From behind the bars, Raven is leaning against the back wall of the cage with her head against the stone. Her face is mostly obscured by the curtain of her hair and she seems to be focusing on something far away and then her eyes open wide and she straightens, looking much like the elf that was snatched from the plains a turn ago. Her expression suddenly blooms into a bright smile as a locksend bursts from her.
giant bondbird isn't much of a nesting kind, but goes straight for the feed and water. *scarf*
Savith has stepped away from the Cage, having arrived here not long ago. Calming Larias's flaring emotions from his mind, the Chosen simply waits in silence for mate to declare she is done wit her work.
Tsoran regards the Cage. ** Ah, there is our lovely Larias, now. I did wonder what that worried sending was all about. **
Winddance looks over. Ooh.. food? Food is good.
Savith stops and looks over at Tsoran suddenly. WTF!? Larias sent to HIM? Oh, bt his soul can FEEL the utter shock in that move. Yup yup. And Savith is forced to fight back that flare of... shock, jealousy, confusion, gah! EMOTIONS! Get them off! Get them off! They're sticky!
giant bondbird ruffles importantly. Well, there's probably room for one more at the feed...
Winddance trills and heads over. Ooh. yum! Muchbetter than that grit in the sandy-place. You ever been to the sandy place?
giant bondbird settles for fresh kills, or Aerie feed. Sandy places are unpleasant.
Winddance dips her head to eat. Yeah. Sandy place not fun, but at least they give you LOTS of water. Ooh, and yeah.
Tsoran walks lightly over to Savith, stopping shoulder by shoulder with the Head Chosen. ** It seems the distress was not triggered by any real threat. Unless the little Raven has grown stronger than last I saw her. **
From behind the bars, Larias is near the bars of the cage, down on hands and needs, where the dress touches the floor, its gotten wet and dirty. She sits upright, in her knees, blinking surprised as well that Tsoran has made an appearance just outside the Cage, well, thats not what she was hoping would happen, nope, not at all. Her expression is tense, and the floor is finally clean. When she speaks, the words come out tense, "I should call the shaper." She should, but she doesn't not just yet.
You sense in a locksend, Tsoran glances at you from the corner of his eye. ** Do you want the shaper to let her out? **
You locksend to Tsoran, Savith is still a bit unsettled, bit at your mental touch, his mind stills, and replies, **As ordered, she must call when her work is done.**
Tsoran smiles faintly. ** Then perhaps you should leave her to her duties. ** That apparently in response to a more private send.
Savith crosses his arms overhis chest and retorts, "I'm waiting." Oohh. not happ.
From behind the bars, Strange, usually the Cage is a place that doe snot make Larias feel safe, but right now, she's almost reluctant to leave it. What, with Savith and Tsoran waiting so patiently outside the bars, *gulp* . Mental note made to self: do not try to circumvent one duty with another, does not go well.
Tsoran considers this. Considers Larias, and the poor denied Raven. Then reaches out to place a hand against Savith's back, quite calmly.
Tsoran locksends ** Tension, my Brother. Have you given my question thought? **
From the Aerie, there is a ruckus along with several excited sends, **Winddance
has come back!**
Savith doesn't flinch at Tsoran's touch, though it does make Savith turn to regard his brother. Oh.. but a diversion! At the sends, Savith snaps his head to the Aerie. A quick thought and... he flicks a look at Larias. Yup. SOmeone has a radar for alone time between the lifemates. But not today. Savith sends up to the aerie, **Get her settled in and harnessed to her nest. I'll be up shortly.**
Tsoran murmurs. "Go see to your former bond. I will take care of Larias." Isn't that a nice offer?
From behind the bars, Belatedly, almost reluctantly, Larias calls for the shaper that lets her in and out of the Cage. She rises to stand, dusting off her dress, though the effort is wasted, its dirty and wet, forever stained, alas. She turns her head to give an almost imploring, helpless look to Raven, who of course can't do anything to help out, finally, Larias sighs, and picks up her two buckets of water, the rags having been tossed in them, this time, the in and out will only take one trip... now where's that blasted shaper.
RIght here. High ones! Elfess have NO patience. floating down, the shaper moves the stone away for Larias to pass. But Savith lifts a brow at Tsoran. "The hawk is being seen to. I need to speak with the life-bearer first." Ooh.. not even using her name!
Tsoran inclines his head respectfully. "As you say, Brother. I have a fresh kill that needs attending." The hand pulls away after a moment, he gives Larias a thoughtful look, and then departs as silently as he arrived.
From behind the bars, Raven casts a look in Larias' direction and it is clear that she wishes she could help in some way but, knows that she is not in any position to help herself much less anyone else. She looks up toward the ceiling of the cage, still smiling as she welcomes her bond back to the Mountain but, then she feels the tether being attatched to Dance's leg and she shakes her head, "Noooooo! I did as you
asked! What part of her will you not kill by doing this?!?" she shouts aloud, letting the sound carry through the halls and not caring who hears. She lets out an anguished wail as her bond is tethered and bound to the stones. She shakes her head franticly
then braces her hands on either side of her head as her eyes roll back and she collapses to the stone floor unconscious.
From behind the bars, Now that is going to leave her ears ringing for a long time... Larias looks back to the collapsing Raven, and though she'd like to kneel down and see if she's ok, somehow, that doesn't strike her as a good idea. After all, if that was from a Winny blacksend, consoling is definitely not on the list of things Lri should do. She closes her eyes, and with buckets in hand, slowly makes her way back out of the Cage, brow beaded in sweat from the work, dress dirtied and wet from hanging to the floor as she cleaned. Once out of the cage, her eyes go to her mate, and then they drop back to the floor, "If.. you want to speak to me now Chosen, my duty is done, though I need to return these to their place." She lifts the buckets a fraction of an inch, her arms straining to do so.
YOu know, being Head Chosen has it's perks. Like calling over the poor rock shaper to take the buckets. "He'll see to your items, Larias. I would see you bathed and changed first." Cause a hot bath would definately relax and he's got good news. Really.
Larias steps out of the Cage as the bars melt away.
Larias has arrived.
Larias swallows nervously and sets the buckets down for the rockshaper to take care of once he's done closing the bars. Her eyes drift again over to regard her mate, and oh yeah, she's nervous, "Yes Chosen..." She turns to head down the steps, legs aching from having been on her knees for so long, and now all these blasted steps.
Savith turns to walk after Larias, taking each step slowly. His eyes regard her, starting to wonder if the work is too taxing for her. Better check with WInnowill on that. Mental note made, and steps walked.
Larias heads down the steps towards the Grotto, catch me if you can.. oh wait, everyone can, since they fly and she walks.
Grotto
Water cascades from the very heart of this cavern, from its spiralling roof down over the forms of stone to the uneven floor. In the center of the room a number of circular basins nest, each within a larger one, sinking in order into the floor and edged with shells shape from the very stone. Water fills each of these basins, as in the old days, constantly flowing from the fountain clean and being eventually drained
away. The circulation ensures only the very purest water is in the basins at any given time.
Illuminated with the same far-off luminescence as the water and most of the Mountain, two paths sinew off into the stone: one low-ceilinged hallway, and a set
of stairs descending into the floor.
Splish, splash it appears Kifah is taking a bath, all on a quiet afternoon. The little elfess has the grotto to herself for the time and is taking full advantage. Her clothing has been folded neatly and set atop a bench, her boots beneath, and her robe hanging from a nearby hook. Long days of strain show around her eyes, a tightness normally not there that has dulled her usual mirth and settled a cloud over her head almost permanently now. However dark the time is for the catelf the future is bright, and so it is with hope in her heart that she manages a soft lullaby from her lips as she washes away the days grime and sweat from leather working.
Much like Kifah, Larias looks like she's seen better days. The skin about her eyes is tight, her expression one of grim determination mingled with a bit of pain, that and worried irritation. High Ones, Tsoran came to her call, thats not what was supposed to happen, and boy, wasn't Savith boiling over it too. Her dress is dirty from the knees down, and wet to, and oddly enough, the last four inches of her hair is wet as
well. She pauses as she enters the Grotto, hearing Kifah's song, and her steps come to a halt. She sighs, "If you desire privacy Kifah, I can see if I am allowed to wait for another time to bathe." She and the kitty cat haven't exactly been talkative with one another since the tossing of Kureel.
But does Savith care? Well of course!! Friendships were ordered repaired, after all. But Savith will give Kifah that chance to respond even if the quirk of his brow might hint that he would be annoyed if the cat said no. But while he remains silent here, his mind is flashing to Llune's apprentices, to bring Larias a fresh dress. Then to the servers for towels.
At least one apprentice is off duty, so Kifah gets to skip fetching for a friend she's not to sure she wants to be all that friendly with. However as the grotto is a public place she halts her song, cut off as her good mood falters. So much for a relaxing bath. "If I desired privacy, Larias, I would have spoken with Malene about that private bath chamber in my own nest like Kureel and I once discussed.", the catelf retorts, trying to keep her tone from being snappish. Maybe she'll just cut her bath time short today and go back to work for awhile.
Larias lets out a sigh, and heads over to about as far distant a place as can be found from where Kifah sits in the waters. She makes no reply, rather, she gets
undressed. Her knees a re definitely either bruised or grimy, and for the astute, the barest swell of her stomach can be seen. She moves to the waters, and slides in, keeping distant from the cat elf. If Savith is there, she doesn't even seem to show that she is aware, after all, he ordered here as Head Chosen, no reason to assume he'd be having bath time as well.
Sadly, bath time is not right now. BUt, wanting to feel his mate's body in his arms, Savith figures now is the best time to get at least part of his work done with so he can enjoy the bath. "As you begin to wash up, Larias, I need to inform you that you have been dismissed from Tsoran's service." See! GOod news! Come on. get happy.
Kifah's lips writhe for a moment. That was either shock or some smart ass comment that she bit back just then as she completely busies herself in scrubbing dye
from her hands and arms where she was spattered. Blue polkadots just don't become her. 'I wonder who ordered that to begin with?', Kifah thinks to herself, 'And
how Tsoran thought... probably a dream come true in his book.'
Larias breathes a sigh of relief, utterly missing whatever it is Kifah whispers beneath her breath. "Winnowill feels I've learned my lesson?" She asks, one brow arching up, obviously surprised by the notion, especially considering her outburst to Tsoran the other day. She smirks, dunks her head, then comes back up again, hair plastered to her face, "Not that I'm complaining, just surprised."
You sense in a locksend, Larias expounds on that, ** I'd gotten the impression from her, it would be a lengthy duty... But I am glad that it is done with. **
"Winnowill had little to do with it," Savith replies after Larias dunks and surfaces. THe 'nasty' bit is done with. Savith can be a mate for a moment before seeing to his returned bond. "Tsoran himself stated it was best ended. He would know, I think." ANd the helmet is pulled from his head and the talonwhip from his side.
You locksend ** As did I, but if Tsoran no longer needs you, I will agree it is for the best. YOu will be needing more rest as you get bigger, I think. (ooh.. a daddy again! Yay!) ** to Larias.
You sense in a locksend, Larias blinks, and mentally, she deflates, ** Tsoran ... released me? Damn him... He tried that yesterday. Only she can release me. Not
him. **
You locksend ** Did he? Hmm. Well, I had planned to speak with Her about your work int eh Cage, to make sure it will not over tax you. I will bring it up. If Tsoran no longer needs you, it is time you focused on family. ** to Larias.
Kifah shoots Savith a look from the corner of her eyes, a look that is here and gone, and perhaps even unnoticed by those present. Done with her scrubbing the catelf hauls herself from the tub, scraping the water from her body and doing her best to wring the water from her hair before she reachs for a towel to dry off with.
Kifah locksends ** And what of her 'lesson' with Kureel? **
You locksend to Kifah, Savith turns his attention on you quickly. **Lesson? You mean her mistaking him for Tsoran?**
Kifah locksends ** Yes. **
Larias closes her eyes letting out a frustrated sigh. Leaning her head back, she tries to blot out all the sights and sounds, focussing on a private conversation. Better than catching any nasty looks from Kifah.
You sense in a locksend, Larias feels her head beginning to ache again, but, as usual, she works at ignoring it, ** Savith, please. Don't. I know you mean well, but all this is by her Will. She knows I still clean the Cage, she knows Tsoran and I rub each other the wrong way, ** well, save for that one time, ** Don't get yourself into trouble by intervening. ** Her sending turn more acerbic than she intends, ** Do you
even know what lesson I am to learn through this, why she has assigned me to tend to his needs and desires? ** Oh yes, desires, though thankfully, none of those have turned towards joining.
Gah! Too many thoughts! Too many thoughts. Savith sighs as mutliple thoughts hit him and none make him all too happy. "Why do you ask her, Kifah," Savith replies publically to the cat elf, cause apparently, as Larias lovingly points out, he hasn't a clue. Damn it! It makes him want to THROW things across the room and yell when people leave him out of hte loop about things that are important to him! And Larias can feel that frustration clearly. It's like Winny tatooed it on his forehead.
t's a sign of her bad mood that has Kifah practically lashing her tail, if she had a tail to lash in the first place that is. "As you wish, Head Chosen." With her hair mostly dry the catelf reaches for her robe, securing it closed before she'll bother to give Larias the time of day, let alone ask her question. "So if you've learned your lesson with Tsoran, what about Kureel? Or do you have any more intentions of harming my mate I should be aware of in advance?" Snippish is an understatement, as the biggest blanket protection Larias has right now is she's a lifebearer for the
Mountain, a fact no one better rub into the little elfess' skin along wtih all the other lemon juice and salt to her wounds. Elian is not here today to calm her down and make her think rationally, and the promise none no of save Winnowill and Kureel does not extend to Larias.
Ok, she's dealt with Tsoran on a far to regular basis, she just got out of the Cage, her mate is manic today, and now the cat is chewing on her toes. Larias stands up, the water falling off her body in torrents. She's far from clean, but bath time, regardless is over. Nope, must keep a different promise, but not before Larias sends a private reply. Her face is beat red, a scowl on her features.
You sense in a locksend, Larias has been taken to the edge and tossed over it today, verging on that pinnacle of losing it or maintaining status quo, Larias well, is just about ready to fall into losing it.
Tail lashing? What about ruffled feathers. Already frustrated, Kifah's tone of voice and now Larias's emotions get hte best of him, and he stands. "Go to our nest, Larias," he orders, eyes hard on Kifah. What could he say? So many things. SO SO many things. But Winnowill's orders ring in his mind and it keeps him from lashing out at the cal elf. "The day has been long for everyone." The gliders move in with towels
and clothes for Larias. THe later Savith takes, the former is floated to his mate while the gliders head out.
You locksend to Larias, Savith just wants one hour with you alone. Is that too much to ask? Is it? One hour to relax, to hold you and be a mate. Screw being Chosen. And Tsoran? Yeah, here's your answer, 'brother': it's MORE than worth it. Every moment, even the bad, make those sweet times all the better. So yes, giving up his soul to have Larias near is more than worth it, and he'd do it again. So just leave his mate alone. Mine! (ala Finding Nemo)
And there was the send that tipped the cat's cup. Throwing her towel to the floor Kifah turns to face Larias as if the catelf were ten feet tall. "And I've already apologized ten times over AND offered myself to the Chosen for punishment, specifically /your/ mate, Larias! It wasn't like I was happy that I let Tsoran lead you off either, but given he's fond of stabbing me with his boot knife what the vines was I supposed to do?! And it's your own fault for getting drunk! And while it may have been Tsoran you thought you were throwing you still weren't in your right
mind. Go sulk in my nest you say? If I had a nest! I'm sure you've already heard the whispered rumors about me and Elian till I decided I'd be better off going to
sleep in the Aerie near Nightsky's nest since I can't even sleep with my own mate!" Turning the catelf stalks off, clothing in hand, dressed in the robe so long ago given to her by Kureel, more then likely headed back to the cubby in the aerie she's started to sleep in when she's not working for Llune.
Larias grabs the twoels from the air, insult to injury, they float to her. Something she can't even do right now. But, she does as told. though, in the most childish manner possible, especially after Kifah's bursting retort. The towel she took from the air is dropped to the floor, and, without a strip of clothing on her, she stalks out, water dripping from body and hair. Oh how she;d love to make a reply, or try and
rip into Kifah right now, but the one elf that can truly order her about with ease, did so - and to him she listens, even when she's raving.
Savith carefully carefully controls the putburst he can feel Larias wanting to start up into, which in turn would start him into a rant and a rave. So as Larias turns to leave nude, Savith turns, collects the towels with a thought and steps in after her, draping the fabric over Larias's shoulders. "Cover up, darling. We don't want Rosendo to get hte wrong ideas." Even if it is funny.
Kureel steps quietly down the stairs to the Grotto, his eyes a bit blurry, but that certainly looks like a nude Larias, and pissed too. Well, this could be fun,
he could use some cruelty in his life. **Clear Skies Larias, Tsoran not allowing you clothes?** He stands at the bottom step, blocking the way as much as he can
for so lithe an elf, a cruel smirk creeping into wearied features.
Kifah doesn't notice Kureel's appearance as she walks head long into her mate. The little elfess is also stalking, tail lashing if she had one, and in a state
fit to be tied as she tries to muscle her way past Kureel, muttering under her breath the whole way.
What a lovely way to end her day, ordered to her room, only to have the way blocked by cat elf and bastard Chosen. And that very same Bastard Chosen asking such a bastard like question. The hands at her sides ball into fists, and, though she's supposedly trying to remain calm she lets out a guttural scream of rage and begins charging the mated pair, seeing nothing but Kureel's jaw line in the cross hairs. So much for being good and listening and all that. Heh - and here Winnowill ordered her to learn to respect the Chosen, yeah, thats working REAL well.
Oh crap! Out of control mate! Being right behind her, Savith charges after Larias, intent to wrap his arms about her ribcage and pull her to a stop and off her feet. Control. Control. Must not... nust be good. No really. Thank the High ones Winnowill took Larias's flight away or he'd not ever have a chance at slowing her
Kureel sends briefly to the insistent mate trying to barrel through him, though he will move out of her way if she proves determined, or ignorant enough of him. Larias however.. She looks like she might just be ready to attack a Chosen.. and Kifah, neither good things in Kureel's mind. He un-hooks his talon whip from his belt, and sends openly. **Savith, subdue her, or I shall.** the flavor of the sending makes it clear for the most unobservant elf that should he have too, it wont be altogether pleasant. Larias did nearly kill him.
Kifah turns, hearing Larias' scream of rage, completely ready to light into her again after as kind as she's been, even when she's wanted to soundly thump the female she thought was her friend. 'Fine, why not, first Tsoran Cages me, stabs me, my own mate tries to strangle me, and now this!' Kifah thinks, turning to meet Larias' attack even as she hears Kureel's sending; the catelf is all to happy to 'subdue' Larias
herself.
Though her mate tries to stop her, wet as she is, Larias ends up able to slide free, kind of like a greased pig. Breaking into an awkward run, she closes the distance between herself and Kureel, ok, Kifah's out of sight out of mind now, she's short. Its just Kureel and his cruel sneer, which, given the hand pulled back for a punch, is something she wants to seen off his face right now.
GAH! Slippery mates! As Larias slips from his grasp, Savith clentched his teeth. He lost and he knows it. At this rate, Winnowill's gonna take his whip away.
Slipping deftly aside, with just a touch of levitation for emphasis, Kureel grins and slides his talon whip up to Larias' neck, the sharp points just barely touching the skin, so in control of his weapon that the slightest movement from Larias is matched, he wont let her hurt herself, that's his job now. **So anxious for another stay in the Cage Larias? Why such foolishness? Risking yourself I can understand, but
what about Savith's child?**
Watching her mate in slightly awe, Kifah holds her ground, almost daring Larias to take a swing at her as she scowls at the taller female. However for now she'll let someone else try and calm her down. Of course that does nothing to calm her anger, but at least she manages not to send.
Larias lets out another growl of rage, caught in arms and magic, with a talon whip at her throat. Going utterly still, Larias speaks through clenched teeth, "Let me go you worthless piece of troll dung." Her fists at her sides remain balled tightly, ready to swing when she gets the chance, legs too seemed tensed to strike, the sooner Kureel lets the magic loose and removes the talon whip, the sooner she can give him
what he deserves.
Savith moves to match Kureel, making a Larias sandwich. A send meant for her mind alone, as green eyes flick to Kureel. He's hands do move to wrap about Larias fully, getting a firm grip. He'll pull her away now, and up into the air, where she can't do anything.
You locksend to Larias, Savith is upset, and your outburst made him loose it. **Curse it /Larias/. Stop being stupid. Just stop. Stop stopstop stop stop!!!**
Kureel smirks, a soft chuckle in his throat. "I think not, Larias, you'll just attack me, and I'll be forced to put you down.. and that would rob the Mountain of /so/ much. A Mother for Rosendo, a friend for Elian, a mate for Savith, and a very ....hrm.. dedicated? servant for my Brother." He brings the talon whip down, still keeping her slightly aloft. "No, I think not."
Every word which oozes with vitriolic acidity from Kureel's mouth only fuels her anger and rage, but Savith works to dampen the fire, cut it off at its source, the she-elf herself. Though the talon whip falls away, Larias does not make any motions, not even to attempt to swing her fist at her own mate, seeing as magic's hold prevents her from swinging at Kureel, though it doesn't stop her from kicking him - at least Savith's words accomplish that feat. She closes her eyes, hiding the stormy grey window they give to her soul, and silence reigns supreme bout her, as she
remains a the cream in the filling of a Chosen sandwich.
Savith floats backward as the talonwhip is pulled away, moving slowly, drawing Larias with him as he goes. In his rush to capture his wild mate, he dropped his helm and talonwhip, since he had taken them off in hopes of getting a bath. Yeah, that didn't work out. Green eyes remain on Kureel, pensive and ...submissive. Someone's not feeling very Head CHosen-ish right now. Nope. Actually, he's upset and worried and trying not to funnel too much into Larias.
You locksend to Larias, Savith wants to run away, hide, and take you with him. THe thought of locking you up in his room and never lettig you out flashes across his mind. Maybe, if you don't TALK to anyone, you won't get in trouble! But that's hardly an answer. Sadly, Savith doesn't HAVE any real answers right now. He just wants you out of here. But damn could he scream and throw something against a wall right now.
Hey, you're in his arms, right? Wonder how far you... no. bad thoughts! Bad Savvy. no nookie!
You sense in a locksend, Kureel sidles up next to your mind slowly, a cautious and careful communication. **Savith, Brother I think it is time for me to reclaim my position as Head Chosen, you seem to have issues of your own at the moment. And mine will soon be resolved.**
Kureel sends briefly to his Brother, all the while keeping his eyes locked on to Larias'. Depending on his reply.. he may find pulling her away from his magics easy, or VERY difficult. "Kifah, would you be so kind as to collect Savith's helm and Talon whip please?"
You locksend to Kureel, Savith is none too steady, but the very carefully mental communication doesn't tip the scales and relatively in control does Savith remain. And readily agree to the idea too. Damn! What respect Savith has for Kureel, I mean really! TO be so steady while being attacked and fighting Recognition Denied. He's too awesome for words man. And with the acknowledgement, Savith sends all that he's done as Head CHosen, which wasn't much. He hadn't gotten then chance to get Kifah to tell him who hurt her so he could be punished, thought he point is moot now, then
Tsoran wanting Larias's punishment to end and then the utter frustration of no one TELLING him that ONLY WInnowill could end it. Oh, and Winddance is back. Yes, and tethered to her nest for the time being. Just in case.
"Yes, Chosen." Kifah replies, walking past the two to go fetch the helm and whip for her mate. No matter how much she's mad at Larias a part of her feels sorry for
her other friend; Savith. His mate may have just cost him his position with the Chosen for a time, and all of a sudden it dawns on her and what she put Kureel at risk over when wanting to vent at Larias over the lack of an apology or anything between the two. Saddly it doesn't dull the anger the little elfess has.
Larias remains utterly still, red faced and angry, but doing as her mate requested. She's naked and dripping wet, and held by mates arms and another Chosen's magic. Why did she even bother waking up today?
Savith meets KUreel's gaze as he's sent to, then as a wordless report filters between them, Savith drops his gaze and turns his face aside slightly. Stupid wolfin habits from having two wolfrider soulmates. THey creep up at the WEIRDEST times, like now: Showing throat and all. GAH!
Kureel releases any hold over Larias. The smirk cooling He awaits Savith's Helm and Talonwhip. Ahh, its good to be Head Chosen again.
Kifah returns to her mate's side, offering him the helm and whip of a Chosen, her expression carefully guarded, even though her mate can feel the tension of the moment; but it wasn't Savith's fault! "You asked for these, Chosen?"
Larias does not place her arms around her mate, no, she simply remains held aloft, getting his clothes wet while he does whatever it is that he's going to do with Kureel. Her face remains red, contorted with anger that hasn't been released in a rather long time. But hey, she's remaining still, not moving, so, thats a good thing, right?
You sense in a locksend, Larias is a boiling sea of anger and rage and frustration and annoyance and pain. She's been so good of late, why did Kifah have to dig, its all her fault! Oh yeah, and Tsoran's, he just had to show up when all he was supposed to do was send for her and say, yeah, he needed something so she could leave the Cage cause it was creeping her out.
And very good thing. Yes, very good. He told her stop. SHe stopped. Good girl gets a cookie. Who's a good girl? Larias is a good girl! Woohoo! COokie! Drifting another little bit away, Savith lifts his gaze to Kureel again, waiting. His helm and talonwhip, that which marks him as CHosen. Will they be returned to him... or kept until things are more settled? OH but then emotions. EMotions from Larias. They makes his green eyes quiver faintly, and his brows pull together while a frown plays at the corners of his mouth. This is SO frustrating! His mate! His! He just wants to shout MINE and tell everyone to come back in three centuries. (Mine! ala Finding Nemo!) Heeheehee
Kureel loops his own Talon whip on his belt before taking the helm and talon whip from Kifah. Kureel pauses, noting the tension and tremor running through the room like the low strumming of a tightly wound string. Interesting. **I respect you enough to trust you to take care of this Brother** He sends while holding them back out, one in each hand. Of course this begs the question, will Savith release Larias to come and get them? And what will she do when he does? Internally, Kureel is slipping back to that sirens call, cruelty and anger only able to hold its annoying song at bay for so long. Poor Kifah, its all there for her to feel if she's listening.
And people wonder why Kifah's high strung, she's not skilled enough to blot it out through that connection of souls. Come on Larias, you know you want to swing at Kureel, just give the catelf an excuse, she's got a fist with your name on it. A tremble runs through the catelf's small body as she stands there, hoping to leave, wanting to leave, her eyes seeking her mate's as she senses his inner struggle.
Oh, what a connumdrum. To set Larias down and have her rush Kureel again, as he can feel her wanting to, or weaken his magical hold to extend himself to collect the items and risk her break free. He'll try this. She's obeying so well.... To her ear his lips go, as if whispering, but the thoughts drift more privately that in softly uttered words can do.
You locksend ** Should I put you down, you will not attack, understood? You must not. (Beg beg plead plead. PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE?) ** to Larias.
Larias lets a thought drift to her mate, a promise. Her eyes do not open, nor does her body relax, her face remains that same red shade, emotions raging within her. But, she doesn't look like she prepping to swing at anyone or kick at anything. At least, not right now.
You sense in a locksend, Larias seems to consider your request, for far longer than really it should ya know? ** I will remain at your side. **
You locksend ** I'll hold you to that, for should you move away from it, there will be little I can do to save you. (Such saness there is in him over that fact. Okay, maybe he should change his answer to Tsoran. Sometimes this whole soul thing ain't.... no, it's worth it. I mean come ON! He's not alone anymore!) ** to Larias.
You sense in a locksend, Larias keeps her level of irritation constant, and she snaps a bit, ** I said I'd not move, what, now YOU don't believe my sends either?! **
You locksend to Larias, Savith snaps back. **I /do/ believe you! I just fear your rash actions. They make scared. Scared! I'm AFRAID of what you might do, of losing you, so just stay. Right. Here. And don't. Move!** And all that frustration quivers.
Kureel rests the hand that holds the talon-whip, down on Kifah shoulder echoing his mental explanation of, no stay here for now. They will have to speak later of what crawled up the kittys butt. He waits patiently, the turmoil in his mind growing stringer, If Larias were to charge him now he may not even notice it. Kifah veritibly hums with the tension, caught between the turmoil of her mate's mind, and the sheer anger over the whole situation in general. Noting the distraction Kureel endures the little elfess keeps her eyes locked to Larias and Savith, ready to defend her love from the irrational female who needs her nose whacked with a reed; someone needs to grow up and act their age, and only Kifah is the youngest by centuries easily, though it's still not a good excuse for her either.
Savith locksends with his mate, thoughts flashing between them until finally he turns slightly and places Larias gingerly upon the ground by his side. Everything is slowly done, eyes turning to Larias's face. She can rage on him when they ar ein the privacy
of their nest, and he'd welcome the bruises at her hand, but for now. Stay. Stay. Stay. Good girl gets a cookie. Be a good girl. And slowly the magic is lifted from her and his hands withdrawing...
Larias doesn't open her eyes once she's set on the ground, nor when the magic fades from around her. And the only motion she makes, is her arms folding up across her chest, at least she doesn't tap her foot in irritation. Her expression remains unchanged, emotions broiling, rolling wildly within.
You sense in a locksend, Larias snaps back quickly, ** Fine. ** She's ticked, believe her, yeah right - if that were the case he wouldn't feel the need to reiterate so much. Right about now, a much younger Larias would be sticking her tongue out.
At Seeing Savith Approach, Kureel extends hands again, offering Savith his items of station.. those things that mark him as Chosen. A private sending for His Brother, to bolster him, at least that's how its intended. The reality however..
You sense in a locksend, Kureel betrays a genuine respect for you, his defenses assailed from so many directions by this cursed Wolf-elf! **Each day my respect for you grows, Savith, even on the days when you manage to make me lose all respect for you.**
Kifah stays obiediently at her mate's side, even when his hand is removed, her expression carefully guarded and neutral though her eyes never leave Larias; like a
hunting cat waiting for it's prey to make the wrong move and spring.
Tension so high in the air, Kureel's compliment is like a breeze of fresh air. Savith takes his badges of rank, and replaces them smoothly with but a deep nod to Kureel. **If there is nothing further, Head CHosen,** he asks crisply, praying Kureel will say no, ready for him to say yes.
Larias simply remains standing there in the buff. Ok, so what if she's starting to get cold, and that means some of the red has left her face. She'll stand here for a hundred turns if she has too, at least, thats what the set to her jaw seems to imply.
Kureel returns his hand to Kifah's shoulder, finding a bit of calm in the turbulence of his mind. Noting Larias evident chill, and deciding that though she may not be armed, if those nipples get any colder they might be used as weapons he sends **Larias, dry off and put something warm on.** Then facing Savith **We must speak about Winddance.**
Kifah turns her gaze up to her mate, looking at him for a long moment as if searching for answers.
Ah crap. He shouldn't have asked! But as Kureel orders, Savith nods. **Of course, Chosen,** he sends but doesn't add anything to Kureel's orders. Casue if he didn, he might get in trouble.
Larias turns her head to face Kureel, her eyes opening as she makes as quick a reply as she can, "I am to remain where I am until told otherwise." SO nyah nnyah nyah nyah!
Kureel scowls "And i have just told you otherwise" He snaps. Facing back fully to Savith and ignoring the mad-elf. "Winddance is restrained, tell me about that, and what you see must be done to ensure her continued reliability to us, and not to that Filth in the cage." That soul-stealing Bond stealing filth.. blech! And yet... so intriguing... must have her.. no must kill her! No can kill her.. must mate with her... Ack, somebody stop my head i want out.
Kifah does her best not to whine, though the strain she feels is relayed through her expressions. Of course her emotions are totally different; must make 'its' life difficult and misserable, good for nothing, mate stealing, bond thieving, excuse for bird poop!
Savith turns his head just enough to tell Larias over his shoulder, "Obey Kureel, Larias." And helmet is redonned. "She is restrained at my order to ensure the Theif would not order her away again. TO ensure her continued reliability... would mean the Thief stops sending to her, completely, for the rest of their lives, and I retrain her from scratch. I don't yet know how much damage has been done to her."
Larias moves stiffly, her knees are killing her from being on them for the time it took to clean the Cage this most recent time, not to mention what all those damn stairs are doing to them. Her steps are hard as she leaves where she was ordered to remain by her mate, looking for a towel left by someone, since she threw hers into the water mid tantrum.
Kureel nods at Savith's report, exhaustion beginning to show more clearly, and a surprising narrowed eye glace cast at Kifah for a moment, Kureel's getting snippy. "Keep me informed Brother."
Kifah looks humbled beneath her mate's gaze, meek once more as she resists the urge to lean against him and just be close for the sake of it, for both of them. Instead she offers him a wordless locksend, trying to fulfill her role as a good little mate.
Savith nods to Kureel's order, recoiling the talonwhip as he likes and attached it to his belt. "As you order," he replies, not commenting about Kureel's clearly seen exhaustion. Instead, he states, "If you'll excuse me, Brother, I must get Larias home. The shifts are covered until tomorrow." Meaning both are free till then, since Savith's been working everyone, himself included, as hard as they are able to keep Kureel from being overly strained. While still giving Kureel enough Duty to keep him sane.
Larias finds a towel, its one of the smaller ones, but at least its unused, and roughly she dries herself off. Now, where are those damn clothes she saw? All the while she mutters in a perturbed fashion to herself, hardly a word of it making any sense, nope, got to many things going on in her mind for much to make senses unless your in that place with her - and ask Savith, that is NOT a place anyone wants to be.
"Of course Savith, rest well." Kureel sure as hell isn't going to. Keeping him from duty? Are you mad.. Keep him busy, Duty time is no-thinking time.
Kifah reachs to takes Kureel's hand, Larias be damned, she'll show the ancient elfess how a mate should behave and be supportive.
Savith turns from Kureel and Kifah. If Kifah's trying to out o Larias, she'll have to get knocked up. >:) There's the dress. He dropped that too. He dropped EVERYTHING to catch Larias. Isn't he a nice mate? Scooping it up, he holds it out to Larias.
Not there. She stomp over that way. Nope, dress isn't there either. Larias lifts her head, and catches sight of something held by Savith, and so, to him her bare feet slap on the cold stone of the floor. She grabs it from his hands, and without a care for the material, puts it over her head and there, she's dressed. And then, just to be a complete snot, she moves back to where she'd been told to stand before. Though the garb given her is a bit strange, since she hasn't settled it all in its rightful place, at least she's dressed... As for Kifah, Larias won't even look at the cat elf right now. Yeah, she thought that one was her friend, but apparently too much time with Kureel has soured her disposition to the point she's lost understanding - as for learning from the cat elf, not a chance, too long outside living from day to day, heh, trade stories when you've lived half so long.
Kureel notes that Savith and Larias seem to be settled, well as settled as Larias ever gets. At a sending from his mate he sneers again deeply, eyeing Larias all the while. Seems Kifah's learning why he called her Traitor. See, patience teaches truth.
Kifah doesn't match her mate for expression, but obviously something in her send would compliment his sneer nicely. With a little sniff she nuzzles up to his side, affectionate and posessive all at once. My Mate! At a return sending from Kureel the little elfess merely shakes her head but otherwise doesn't budge.
Oh, things are far from settled. Savith's gonna get a beatin when they get in. GOod thing ROsendo is with Llune, huh? MOving to larias's side, Savith speaks to her softly, "Move." To the nest,and if you take a swing at anyone... high ones help him...
Larias does as told without another word or send to anyone. She's in a snit, and Tsoran, Raven, Savith, Kifah, and Kureel are did a wonderful job of setting her up to place her there. But, Savith rules her heart and soul more thoroughly than any other, and so, his word is law, no matter how much she would just love to swing at everyone else.
Kureel moves out of the way, pulling Kifah closer to him to move both out of the way. As soon as Savith and Larias pass, he takes a deep breath, summoning up mental acumen.
Kifah has no problem with getting out of Larias way, she's even a good girl and doesn't trip the ground bound female, mostly because she's expecting. Snuggled up against her mate she tries to forget the woes of reality for a moment, seeking through sending to ease Kureel's mind for a short while.
Savith's Chambers, Hall of the Chosen, Blue Mountain
A feeling of magic resonates about the chamber, a shapers touch having recently graced the room. A stone chandelier is centered on the ceiling, several candles set to burn and illuminate the room. Hanging from the chandelier are several small pieces of metal, polished so as to brightly reflect the light from the candles above. A patchwork ravvit fur ground covering is on the floor, colors ranging from tawny blonde, to golden, to a rich deep brown. Around the fur covering, are several large sitting pillows, each one matchnig one of the shades in the center pillow, one which is made of roe deer skin, a soft brown, striped faintly with gold.
Along one wall a stone table has been erected as has a bench, a pitcher and tray set out, though both are commonly empty. Hung against the far wall of the room, is a circular decoration. It appears to be made entirely of leather and ravvit fur, soft browns , again with a touch of gold. Within the circle, strands of sinew create a webbed pattern, in which small beads made of bone are tied. From these beads, strings of leather fall, almost brushing the floor, the ends tipped in more beads, feathers, and fur. Two wall sconces shaped to either side, illuminate the strange
piece of art work. One small corner of the room has been curtained off from the rest, the curtain matching the color scheme of golds, yellows and browns, with fine needlework
decorating the light weight leather. Images of great hawks, wolves, ravvits and a myriad of other creatures has been embroidered onto the piece. A small corner of
the bed and platform peeks out from behind the curtain, covered in new blankets and pillows, again the coloring the natural golds and browns of doe skin, set to match the rest of the room.
All in all, this Chosen's room has come to resemble a wolfriders den more than a chamber of the Mountain.
Savith follows closely behind Larias, almost as if herding her to their nest. But once there, the self-assured silent anger fades, replaced by the readiness fo ra good throttling. Okay Larias. Hit me.
But as Larias so often does, Savith's best laid plans are rent to shreds by her, even if she doesn't mean to. The whole way, her bare feet slapped hard against the stone, and when she moved to the curtain to enter the room, she nearly tore it from the rod that holds it in place. Once inside, she grabbed a goblet or pitcher, whatever was on the table, and flung it against the far wall. Once it clattered to the ground, she herself sat down hard, right there on the floor, holding her head in her hands. Tantrum over, reality sinking in.
Savith turns to make sure the curtain doesn't fall completely, only to flinch as the goblet hits the far wall. Turning, the last of Larias's emotions hit him like a tornado, and he can't help but drift over, dropping to his knees at Larias's side. Hesitantly he asks, "Larias?"
Larias looks up, her eyes reflecting the turmoil in her soul, all of which he can feel should he chose to. She lifts one hand, holding her palm to her head, fingers twined in her hair, "I can't keep doing this Savith." Her voice cracks, giving her reason to pause in her speaking. "Tsoran, Raven, Kifah... I can't take them, this" at the word this, her hand touches her stomach, and with that touch, the uncertainty, for she still doesn't know who's it is.
OH, Savith can feel it, feel it all. That gain on the Larias-o-phone is hitting feedback levels. The uncertainity, the turmoil.. it makes Savith lean forward and collect her up in a hug. "Ants eat their eyes," he curses softly. "I don't care who's it is. They can try to give you doubt, but that's all it is. doubt. And it is born and bred of jealousy. We are mates, a matched set. Together, we're not alone, and
they know it. So be deaf to them." Oh! He's shaking!
How odd, she's flipped her switch to nutso, and Savith is the one shaking, leaving Larias suddenly on the other side, with his arms about her, tears threatening, her hands reach up and around him in a quick embrace, only for one hand to fall away so the can try and brush through what hair she can (he did put the helm back on, right?). "I should just stay here, forever. Never leave this chamber, Only have to see you, talk to you. They'd not be able to incense me if I never saw them again." ANd that would be better for Savith, right? No loony mate, rooms always cleaned
- the ultimate homebody *snicker*
Hey. DOn't snicker! That's EXACLY what went through Savith's mind. Force you to stay home and then no one would bug you. But he's shaking more out of overloading emotions. "You know you can't do that. Sure, it'd be easy but.." ANd he grins. "We never take the easy road, do we?"
Larias hehs, her head falling so that it leans against the top his shoulder, "No.. no we don't. Not in our way, always have to do it the hard and impossible way. Always have to scratch, tooth and claw to get where we should be." Her voice drops a notch, "Only for me to lose it, and send us back to where we started from all over again." She leans back at that moment, not quite pulling away, "I just can't take the baiting, Kureel, I was used to, but Kifah..." Her head shakes, that is one thing she almost regrets, causing Kifah hurt in all this. It was never her intention to nearly kill Kureel, no, her intention was to nearly kill Tsoran, not that that is much better.
Savith hugs Larias to him, still quivering deep down. Of course, the wet uniform and cold stone floor aint helping. "She's upset about what you did to Kureel, is all. She doesn't understand, as I do, why you did as you did. Plus you'll be twice a mother, and she nothing. It urks her that her mate has Recognized another." Eyes growing distant, Savith's brows draw together. "I can only hope that for her sake, and Kureel's, WInnowill sees the child given to them, so at least it would be hers to rear." You know. Of course, WInnowill might be able to do more, but hey, it's all good.
Larias lets out a bit of a choked sound, "For all I know, this one may as well be given to Kifah and Kureel to raise." Her head shakes back and forth, "No.. no that's not true. I.. I don't think it is. My head, it hurts so much sometimes, I don't remember everything the way I should." She clings to her mate, resting her head against him again, "I.. I stayed away longer this time. I kept my mind to myself longer this time. That's better, right? I'm doing better?" Not perfect, just better...
Savith nods as he brushes back some hair. Yeah, he put on his helmet but still that lock of hair, the one curl pokes out. "Yes, you're doing better. Much
better. I'm sorry about hte headaches. I know. I feel sometimes. I wish... I wish I could do something..."
*"It'll be over soon, right? Only another turn, and then.. it'll be over." The pregnancy she means of course, that much of uncertainty will be finished. Larias thunks her head against Savith's shoulder, "If.. if it.. if she looks, like Kureel, should.. what should I, we do?"
That actually makes Savith chuckle. "She won't. You were already pregant when that happened." **Remember,** he prompts, bringing forth that happy memory of when you told him. 'I'm... we're going to have another.' That was the BEST! Forget all this
worrying over who's it is. JUst look at the facts. It ain't Kureel's, and therefore can't be Tsoran's. I mean, really. Bun was in the oven just after she returned from outside. Which means.... maybe someone from outside, but then no one would be able to say WHO she looks like, right?
Larias throws her arms around Savith bowling him over as she launches into a big bear style hug, her eyes squeezed shut for an entirely different reason than before. ** Actually, I had forgotten, so many seem to say so many different things, its all.. gotten confused for me. ** And the headaches of course don't
help.
Savith topples over as Larias barrals into him. "oof," but the sound is happy, and he's smiling. **You'd forget everything, wouldn't you,** he quips, teasing lightly, more relaxed now that he has been in a while. **If I wasn't here.** Heehee... **Like the fact that i"m soaked! COme on. Let me up so I can dry off and we can go to bed.**
Finally, a lighthearted sound escapes from Larias as she takes a few moments to lay atop her mate, its not such a bad place to be. Leaning down, she rubs her nose against his in a quick nuzzle before rising just enough to pull blankets off the nearby bed, and down atop the pair. "You don't need to get up to go to bed." She grins, as the blankets fall in his face, but quickly she gets them set up, "If you need to get undressed, you can do so under the covers, with me." Fight and make up, what better way to end a day. "Though, you'll have to brush the lights out with
thought."
"I can do that," comes the lighthearted reply, as a full smile blooms to life. And out go the lights on the now happy couple.
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