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Post by Nymiane on Jul 22, 2005 14:59:44 GMT -4
“What? What is this?” A man’s voice cried out. His hand roughly gripped upon a delicate wrist, pulling the figure up off the ground and towards him. Dark brown eyes surveyed the body before him, a woman who looked to be fairly young, but one could not be sure, for a mask veiled her face.
“Please..don’t…” The woman’s voice was sent forth, muffled by the mask. She looked to be in rough shape, her clothes being baggy upon her form, her skin visible through the torn fabric. “Don’t take it off..” She muttered and soon her body fell limp into the arms of the unknown man.
As the man that caught her drew his hands towards the woman’s face, a sword lay upon the back of his neck, the leader of the band.
“She said don’t take it off, heed her words. There is a place not to far from here, take her there. The woman will take care of her.” The man murmured, his sword slipping back into it’s sheathe. His eyes surveyed the area further before he turned about, the sound of his armor shifting and rubbing against it rang through the closed in area. The metal sheathe clanged against the armor, causing almost a melodious tune as he gaited towards his mount. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t..” A brow arose as he sneered, his hand lifted and he shut his helm. Obviously of some sort of higher rank. With a kick of the heel to the mount’s side, he was off.
A sigh passed from the lips of the man that held her, he just shook his head and shifted her body within his arms. “What are you doing out here?..” He muttered, his thick fingers gently grabbing her long ebon locks of hair. Silk to touch, a faint smile broke the monotonous pattern upon his weathered face. brown eyes gazed down upon the figure, as if it would answer him back, as if he could read the sad expression upon her face. His fingers gently caressed what would be her cheek and on he moved, towards his mount…
The trek was easy, it wasn’t far off at all, perhaps three miles at most. There, only a few hundred feet away was a brown house. Mist surrounded the structure, the greenery about it seemed to thrive. It was odd though, going from the south where there wasn’t much green, to nearly into the Gray City… True they had greens, but this was odd.. This plant-life was different from all he had seen. From the mists erupted petite figures, who slowly stepped towards the stranger, their eyes lay strong upon him, smiles wide. The women parted and stepped aside as their mistress made her way to the front, they all curtsied, though the Mistresses’ was far more graceful. “To whom or what do I owe the pleasure?” The Mistresses slick voice passed from her lips, eyes half slit as she gazed upon the man. “This woman, she is ill..I think.” He stuttered slightly. Soon he dismounted and carried the woman forth, his form towering over the Mistress before him. “Take her, please.” He moved his arms forward, as if he was shoving the fallen figure towards the other. Ebon hair cascaded down, nearly touching the dirt below. The Mistresses eyes fell upon the women, surveying her critically, a smile brightened her face as she stepped aside, ready to escort the woman into the house. “She will be safe here.. Do you know her name?..” She inquired. “No..” The man paused and shook his head. “But do not take her mask off, she will not be pleased..” With that said…they all faded within the mist…entering the house.
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Post by Icor on Jul 22, 2005 21:15:03 GMT -4
The night crept with it’s own personality there. It wasn’t the mist, or the stars, but the darkness. Nathicus stood with his head lowered by the pool located near the house. The forest was stirring, and while the Mistress approached the man, Nathicus’ focus broke for a moment. Two shady females stood behind the Druid while he looked over his shoulder at the point of all the attention. Some foreign light faded from the water as he stopped channeling energy of the north moon into the irrigation. He leaned toward one of the girls.
“I’m not going to stay here forever,” he spoke with a tired voice, peering upon the “slave” brought before the mistress. His feathery hair hung all about his face, and his mouth was open while he took breath through it.
“Another one for her to doctor up? Just keep me out of her witch crafting, or whatever she does. I want my pay, understand?”
He tore his focus from the masked female, putting a sharp finger-point to one of the women’s chest. He was dead serious, and his green irises and nearly angered expression couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. He pulled one of the vines out of the pool slowly, wrapping it around his arm. The energy from the north moon was obviously what they wanted to infuse into the wild-life, and the water was a perfect tool to do it with. The plants changed because of the conversion of power, but Nathicus didn’t have anything to do with that. He just channeled its energy into the rivers, and wanted paid for it.
He found his attention on the masked woman again and again, regardless of his mission. She concerned him for some reason, which rarely happened – then again, he never did see many people.
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Post by Nymiane on Jul 25, 2005 23:10:12 GMT -4
Not long after the figures entered the house did the darkness sweep across, masking the deceiving house further. From the distance it looked to be a small cozy sanctuary in a lost land, but once inside it was far different. Rafters caught one’s attention if one were to look up, for ribbons and fabrics draped across them. The house seemed to be overly decorated, or so the man thought, perhaps it was just he being a brute. A chorus of laughter rang from the rafters, eyes peered over the rails as the man walked about, his brow arose in curiosity as they made their way into a room on the first floor. It was odd, perhaps the brightest room in the house and yet no light illuminated it. A chill ran up and down the man’s spine and soon he laid the veiled one upon the bed.
“Kleia.” The Mistress finally uttered her name, and a slight curtsy followed, as well as a nod of the head. “Aron.” The man muttered softly, his hand sweeping under his chin and scratching at the scraggly hair there. “She didn’t seem to be wounded…” He began to say, trailing off as he gazed upon the woman. Kleia simply nodded and escorted him out. “Stay the night… you will be lost in the mists if you leave.” There was a glint behind Kleia’s eyes and soon it pieced together as to where Aron was. A nervous chuckled emitted from his lips, but he accepted the offer. “I appreciate it..” Aron said as he stepped out of the room, bowing.
Kleia nodded, one of the girls would show him to his room, and offer the other services as well. Kleia turned her attention back to the veiled woman. The only instructions were to not take off the mask, so she assumed there was no wound under it, for there would also be a stream of blood seeping from the porcelain mask. The mask, it was obvious to the eye that a great deal of patience, time and craft were put into it. The white porcelain was dressed in a tone like the unknown’s skin; features were painted upon the appropriate grooves. The lips were a cherry red, neither drawn in a smile nor frown, lifeless like. Eyes were held in a neutral, yet sad expression, with no peepholes. Jewels lined around the forehead, crystals.. The makeup upon the mask was neither over done, nor really natural, but strangely alluring. It caused one’s hands to itch, to be able to pull the mask off to see if what lie beneath the mask could compare to the bizarre beauty…
Nevertheless, Kleia obeyed the orders, no matter how tempted she was. So, she went on and surveyed the unknown’s body, finding she was in perfect, fit condition. Fatigue was her diagnosis; she was running from someone, or something. No bruises were upon her flawless skin, her hair was well groomed and hands looked as if they had hardly seen a day of work. Odd, Kleia thought, knowing what that could possibly mean, she bit upon her bottom lip and tossed the dirty rags into the corner of the room. “Rest well..” Kleia murmured before she walked out of the room, closing the door behind herself. For a moment she stood propped against the door, palm resting upon it, fingers curling as she added the facts up. Nothing about it really made sense… She being in this business has seen many girls, from many lands.. It was late. She pulled herself away and raised a hand to her forehead time to retire..
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Post by Icor on Jul 27, 2005 23:50:05 GMT -4
Nathicus turned from the pond, folding a green cloak around his shoulders. The two girls scattered away quickly into the brush as he approached the doorway to the “house”. He shifted his lower jaw, looking around the frame of the gate before he touched the wood with his fingertips and gently pushed it open. After about a second’s thought, he stepped into the ornate inner realm of the building, and gazed down the hallway. Everything was quiet and breezy. He detected no one, and murmured through his teeth for a moment. His things were together, and he had little patience. If this would cost him more time than he previously wanted it to, he’d have never engaged.
“Kleia!” the Druid called, trying not to sound angry.
A woman quickly approached Nathicus after his shouting from a side room leading from a doorway in the lobby. She touched Nathicus’ shoulder gently, pushing to turn him out. “I’m sorry, Druid. She’s gone to sleep now. You’ll have to wait until morning.”
Nathicus pushed back on the girl with equal force, and she was quick to avoid trouble. He glared back and forth between her, and the door at the far end of the hall. His ebony eyes were sharp as they glowed through the long locks of hair dangling in his face. His following conversation tended to grow less and less stressed as it progressed:
“Tell her if she, or any of her scouts do this to me again, she’ll have to find another Druid. I have business east of Eurothra, I don’t have time for this.”
The female folded her hands on her stomach and sighed softly, responding with the only thing possible really: an apology.
Nathicus unpacked some things, and made himself a place to rest in one of the chambers. The female followed him in as well, and did what she could without getting in the tall man’s way. As the room’s lights were dimmed, and the girl began to leave, Nathicus caught her by the arm, and turned her around to face him.
“Who was the creature that was brought in?”
The girl stared curiously for a few moments, and then bit her lip. “I don’t know. Ask Kleia, it’s not my place to poke around in her business.” The Druid released her, and turned toward his small bed. With a few thud sounds, Nathicus dropped his things to the wooden floor and crawled into the sheets.
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Post by Nymiane on Aug 3, 2005 11:42:31 GMT -4
All was quiet throughout the night, and all was dimly lit, for the most part. The room where the unknown had been resting, still seemed to glow with the peculiar light. It crept out from under the door and snaked across the open room, light formed in streaks. In the room, light poured in through the window, the moon seemed to be watching the woman sleep, watching over her…
Hours passed and all the woman’s body did was occasionally twitch, her mind was filled with old memories, that were fading. The muffled sound of a piano piece played in her mind, ringing within her ears and as she slept, her bottom lip began to tremble as she recalled a nearly forgotten memory. A stream of silver slipped from her eye lids, making their way out from under the mask and splashed upon her pillow, fond memories whirred away from her, blackness swirled towards her and out from it rushed a masked face, laughing maniacally, it’s hands slinked towards her, wrapping about her neck. Before it got much of a chance to apply pressure to her throat, the woman jolted herself from her sleep, nearly tossing herself from the bed, her hands gripped upon the bed and as she brought herself to her feet, she pulled the mask from her face. Ebon locks of hair swooping down into her face, veiling it. The moonlight seemed to follow her, wherever she stepped, a heavy sigh passed from her as she gripped upon a robe. She wrapped the robe about her form and leaned against the wall, her fingers curling as she supported herself, still very weak. A soft whimper passed from her as she drew the mask near her face again, the mask slowly shadowing the light, her sight vanishing once the dreadful mask glued itself to her shadowed face.
“You were cursed…the Goddess..cursed you…” A voice hissed in her mind, her arms folded tightly to her stomach as she rocked. “You bounce from place to place, like a whore, this place.. It suits you well..” A clenched fist arose and she laid down in bed, trembling from fury and fright.
“Let me go…” She murmured, her voice though a bit muffled, sent through the air clearly. The woman rolled upon her stomach and shoved her face under the pillow, her form melting into the form of the bed once more, weariness taking over her body. So, once more she delve into the horrifying slumber..
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Post by Icor on Aug 3, 2005 12:25:31 GMT -4
And then the night came to a close. Nathicus was awake, ready and willing. Had he made some arrangements, his night might have been less so dull and more so pleasurable. He stood outside the room, tying ropes and belts to his body, all of which served to keep his things in order. The morning was cold. Both cold and humid – the mist slinked through the threads of his clothing and through his skin, making him shiver from the bones out. Ghastly, tired women walked up and down the long hallway, offering the Druid one coy glance after the next from their deep, lonesome eyes. He’d return each gaze, yet not in the same attitude; an attitude as dreary as the fog.
He closed his eyes again, swallowing his sleep away with a strenuously concealed yawn. With his arms folded over his chest, Nathicus slumped and closed his eyes. The morning light came through every window. A shimmering aura of purple and teal touched every surface with one thing that seemed to balance everything out with a golden glow: the sunlight. The light truly made everything in that house a work of art. An ambient roar of the southern wastes was always present. A concoction of tireless thunder, smoldering volcanic anger, and machines is what kept most of Eurothra’s southern guard ready and waiting.
And yet Nathicus closed his eyes? His thoughts dwelt on a pitiable creature drug in during the previous evening. Having discovered that he’d sleep no night away without ever once dreaming or thinking about his daughter, the thought of forcing himself to act bitter, he hoped, would vanquish his sensitivity – his failure ended with moon-lit tears biting the corners of his mouth, self-loathing, and incredible determination. This woman, out of all of them in that place, drilled at his skull harder; it was his petty problem with too many solutions, and he wanted to solve it more than anything else.
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Post by Nymiane on Aug 5, 2005 16:23:32 GMT -4
The light’s rays snaked around the form of the woman, hand like rays seemed to caress her body and nudge it. Slowly the woman began to wake, her form squirming under the thin blanket, hands raising upright as she stretched. As the woman slowly stood to her feet she moved her hands in front of her, ears sharp as she listened to the sound of her feet echoing off the walls. Hands felt her robe to make sure it was still wrapped about her tightly, then moved to the door knob, which she turned and cautiously stepped out from the room. Oddly enough, her room was far more warm than what this new room was, her hands patted the air as she stumbled forward, her head lowered some. A palm felt wood and soon after her arms wrapped about it, her mind ran quick paces, where was she?
A deep breath was taken and feet began to pat around the surrounding floor, listening to the echoes that it gave, it allowed her to decipher where a wall was and where it was an opening.. Fingers felt some fabric, and a palm gently ran in circles as the other hand gripped upon it firmly, a chair. She sighed to herself and lowered her head all the more, her fist clenched before she slammed it down on the back of the chair. Memories of old swept through her mind once more, her head tilted to the side as she recalled a time when she did not have to run, or hide. A curse, a curse that took effect long ago and one that could not be broken. Something that many would not consider a curse, but who were they to say? They were blinded..
Feet slowly began to shift again, ears listening to the pitter patter and the echoes it sent against the walls, her head cocked to the side as she noted a dullness to the sound. Hands brushed against door ways, occasionally halting in front of a pillar, she inhaled sharply, air shooting up through the holes in the mask for nostrils.. Perfume glazed the air, masking much of the other scents and yet something that lingered close, had a different scent.. She lowered her head, waves of ebon locks swooping over the mask to veil it further…
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Post by Icor on Aug 5, 2005 19:22:59 GMT -4
Then the druid stood behind her: this masked woman by one of the many, marble pillars. Nathicus was shaped like a ghost with his long cloak hanging down in nice, straight lines off his two broad shoulders. His brown locks of wiry hair and light beard helped frame his two yellow eyes. The locks shadowed his face, and his eyes were like beacons in his own, personal night. He swallowed, watching her with full attention, waiting anxiously for her to make even the slightest movement. Every sound he made, she heard; his body swayed with a natural amount of minuteness. Nathicus’ expression was generally thoughtful, but more so awe struck. For once, he got a good look at her, and then he’d wished he hadn’t. With his head low, he was finally satisfied of his curiosity, only to come out on the other side with thousands of more questions.
“We’re in the Feather Hills.” he finally uttered, in a tone rarely used by him; a soft, loving voice which beautifully shined through the boom in his pitch, “You’re safe enough here.”
Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to let her know he wasn’t sure – should anything attempt to hurt her, his blind, confused protectiveness would spring into action, and he was aware of it. It was something that startled even him. He would die for her even now, and it’d be inaccurate to say that pure love was the reason behind it. Perhaps an affect of the Northern Moon, powers of compassion, plotted and orchestrated such emotions. Would he care much longer? No.
He smelled, and sounded like he’d been everywhere. His dialect was both jagged and flowing, hints of drowish and elvish fighting one another on the very tip of his tongue. He smelled like any man, except with that cold chill lopped in – the same chill you get when you run your fingers down a scar, or get the wind knocked out of you. Along with this, he was drenched with the aroma of wild-life; This was most dominant feature about him – the scent of a million flowers, vines, weeds, and animals all put into one being. To put it quite simply, it was the smell of the forest after a downpour of rain.
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Post by Nymiane on Aug 5, 2005 22:47:14 GMT -4
The woman tilted her head to the side, her hands searched her body, making sure it was wrapped tightly. Though she wore a mask to hide her face, she still had some dignity to her. Fingers curled some as she shifted her weight to the side her ears catching sound of breathing, her foot moved, making a patter sound on the floor, the sound was dull, due to the bulk of the body behind her. Leisurely the woman turned about, her head raising gradually, strands of her hair falling back away from her mask, a jewel from her mask glimmered in the bright light. She stood still for a long moment, her head positioned as if she was gazing directly into his eyes, her stance somewhat relaxed, yet one could easily tell she were on the edge. After a few moments passed she moved closer towards him, she had searched his aura and found nothing to be terribly fearful of.
“Thank you..” She spoke, her vocals coming out clearly, odd enough. The pitch was neither low, nor high, it was somewhere in between.
The tone of the man’s voice reassured her of her own assessment of him and so she drew all the more closer to him, until she was nearly pressed up against him. Her hands arose to gently cup his face, silken hands caressed his face, feeling the roughness of the facial hair. Fingers slipped through his hair and she laughed softly, his scent flowed through her nostrils, some were familiar others weren’t. When she was finished with her ‘touching’ moment, she pulled away, drawing her hands from his face.
“My apologies..” She murmured, bowing her head and lowering her form slightly.
The woman’s form stayed down in the bow for a moment or two before she raised herself up, the robe sliding from her shoulder, baring the milky white skin of her collar bone and shoulder. Any other day she would have shivered, but there was an odd warmth in the house, similar to the warmth one would feel after they were tucked in by their beloved, or guardian. She stood there in silence, ciphering the man’s voice, it was as mixed as hers and somewhat similar, though there was the hint of an unknown dialect, perhaps another clue as to where she hailed from…..
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Post by Icor on Aug 6, 2005 16:48:41 GMT -4
Light from a stained-glass window surrounded him with a feathered glow, and from his two auburn eyes he gazed at her. He instantly admired her attitude. He knew she either couldn’t see, or couldn’t see well, yet he still felt as if his eyes were pierced by her hidden gaze, even through the mask. It was chilly in the hallway, comparatively to the rooms. His heavy clothes kept him warm, yet he still felt like trembling. Her slow approach gave him the urge to both advance, and back away, which ultimately left him standing still for her.
When she drew as close to him as she did, it was as if she was weighing down on his chest; even though she didn’t quite touch, he felt as if her body zapped his breath away, and he held it steadily. His skin was like leather to the touch, heated by the blood and muscles below it. The texture was bendable and even smooth in places. Not knowing what to do, Nathicus let his fingers point at the ground, and his eyes closed for moments at a time. When he did watch her, however, it was stern and dazed – he looked into the mask between her wrists and arms, waiting and naturally searching for her expression as she laughed.
Her apology didn’t go unnoticed. Her voice, and matching bow made his posture loosen a little, and his chest deflated as he let out a heavy exhale. His sigh was filled with emotions, emotions of concern, relief, and happiness all together in one gesture. The ruffling of fabric could be heard from him now as his weight shifted from one leg to the other, and he slowly, but surely, regained his composure. He smiled unknowingly at the woman, not even realizing that she wouldn’t see it. The faint smile lasted no more than three seconds. He then spoke, in a similar tone as before.
“I’m Nathicus.”, he whispered to her.
His tone would be his means of telling her he was still comfortable – his “forgiveness”, in a sense. His breathes, as if his first, were drawn out and in a way soothing to listen to. He created an ambience with his slow, repeated pattern of inhaling and exhaling.
“Have you been here before?” he questioned solemnly, staring back at her with traces of his awe still playing in his shady complexion.
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Post by Nymiane on Aug 13, 2005 19:36:09 GMT -4
The woman’s hand moved to her shoulder, wisps of air brushing against her cool skin, which caused some goosebumps to pop on her skin in varius places. Hands slowly drooped down to her sides, fingers picking at the center of her palms as if bored, edgy, nervous, perhaps she was all of the above. She could see the faint light, but only due to some passing through under the mask. It had been a great while since she had seen the wonderous colors of the realm, she missed the painted sky, the sunrises, the sunsets. Even the dullest color one could possibly imagine, (even that putrid green most loathe so..) Sight was definitely a thing most beings took for granted.
The veiled one took a few more steps backwards, her feet placing precisely upon the floor, hands outstretched to grip upon a pillar, fingers stroked it gently. Her head cocked to the side as she listened to the sound of the bird’s sweet chorus. These were calls she had never heard before, they sounded as if they were laughing and chattering to each other, a happy clan, she thought. Keen ears were straining as she listened to the man’s breathing intently, when one could not see they relied on other abilities, such as touch and sound, for even her sense of smell was hindered some due to the mask. The hint of concern was heard within his breathe, followed shortly by a whirlwind of others as well. As the fabric wavered in the wind, the sound threw her off for a moment, her head turned downwards some as she fought to keep the sounds in order, attempting to tune one out. The slight whistle of breath flowing from him soon changed in tune, she had grown accustomed to this, which meant a smile was upon his face. A faint smile was upon hers, though the only hint of one was that her mask moved around some.
“Nathicus..” The woman murmured, then her voice flowed forth again. “A smile would make that face much more pleasant than not.” Soft laughter poured from her as she stood upright, her balance still not all there. “Faye is what they call me..” Her voice softened and grew even softer as her speech dragged out.
The name was now uttered, a name to her.. well, somewhat of a face. Faye’s head lowered some as she felt eyes upon her and it made her shiver some, but Nathicus’ breathing soothed her in an odd way. It was a way of being able to see him, or sense him.
”No, no I do not think so…” She turned her head to the side, light diving under the mask, causing her to squint and lower head head.
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Post by Icor on Aug 17, 2005 0:42:34 GMT -4
Either Druid’s chest was full and forward, or he kept his chin low – or both. It was a powerful position for one to stand in, and for once in a long while, he felt as if he needed to remain as respectful-looking as he could. He questioned the facts about her sight; maybe she couldn’t see his flesh, but his eyes danced and his fingers curled in the same way one would under that thoughtful, self-protective sensation: the sensation of being watching from afar. He felt like his very soul was under her surveillance.
“Faye”, his nearly scratched voice creaked, “Faye, such a sweet sound, such a sweet name; one could make an obsession of sending simple poetry like it off the tongue.”
He smiled at his words, af if they were at least half sarcasm. Maybe he was semi-serious; maybe he didn't know the right words, in reality. Were there any "right words"?
The hallway got chilly now. It was an ominous, unnatural cold that quieted and muffled the animals with its invisible sheet. It strangled and shifted the moon in an ill way. A draft caught Nathicus’ overcoat right at the lower him with its icy claws, and pushed it about. The fabric ruffled, and it swept in toward Faye from behind him slowly. From his mouth came a small gasp (nothing more than an inhale, really), indicating the sudden, mysterious winter which seemed to slink under the heavy clothing worn by himself.
Just as quickly as the cold came upon him, so did the quiet, repetitive clap of stone upon stone. These marble shoes belonged, and were worn by none other than one of the second-wing mistresses – a darker, more dreadful guild master. She emerged from the white wash of pure light beaming around the form of Nathicus, and stood in her thin glory right behind him. She was coiled in black webs which thickened like satin at her few intimate areas. Long white hair trailed over her shoulders, contrasting the attire, and she held one arm up as to prevent the chain she held to from dragging on the floor. Her bony fingers tightened, and Nathicus was hardly given any time to continue his conversation with Faye.
The woman’s noble, purple eyes lay on Druid, the “Nathicus”, and in her other hand she held three books, all of which barely fit together at their sickly spines. She spoke in a lonesome, heavy voice which somehow stained the memory with a permanent, gruesome vibrancy:
“Your payment.”
Two words were all, and the woman walked close to Druid. The tall, thick body of Nathicus turned from Faye for a moment, and he placed his half-leather-wrapped fingers on the books, and lovingly took them into his possession. He tried to hold his shivering as caringly as he held his loot, but it was ultimately impossible. She weakened him, and it was obvious that he didn’t like it. It was not long before she was gone, and her personal, vile winter with her into another alley way.
Druid looked back at the masked woman, chewing on his lower lip while he put his earnings in a large bag. He didn’t know how much she managed to gather from what had just happened, and he didn’t know if she approved of such dealings, however, he knew one thing: that he was warm in her presence, and it conflicted with what he just felt. He also knew that this subtle comfort which she provided didn’t come from any source of magic or any power from the moons, but from inside his very own jumbled feelings.
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Post by Nymiane on Sept 6, 2005 16:46:30 GMT -4
The woman was still very much faint from her trek, but her inner strength was far greater than what her physical was. There always seemed to be a mysterious air about her, even if one took away the detail about the mask, she was quiet and when she spoke something seemed to linger there. Who was she? Where was she from? Did she hold some power over all, how was it she could see right through one’s soul without the ability to see. How was she able to pierce through someone’s mind, was this a curse, or a blessing? If one asked Faye, her answer would be: a curse.
A soft twitter of laughter hit her mask, causing it to grow somewhat dull, she just shook her head as the words hit her. “And one as sarcastic as you could simply lose one..” Faye’s vocals were obviously filled with jest. Sweetness took a backseat, many times had she been pushed over, but it was a mistake on the others part. A very patience woman Faye is..
The frigid tendrils of the wind rushed into the room, brushing against porcelain skin, limbs becoming covered in goose bumps due to the lack of clothing. Ruffling fabric entered those precious ears, the cloth nearly brushing against her, a hand jerked to the side swiftly, cutting through the thick icy air. Just his coat. Then what was the other…thing? There it was, the sound of feet landing upon the stone floor; it sent loud pangs as each foot fell. Faye stood there, her head lowered and form curled into a position that was similar to a beast in submission. Though she could not see, she could see and feel aura just fine, and it wasn’t pleasant. It was cold, perhaps even colder than the air that swept through. It was the sort of coldness that chokes you, and steals your breath away, the wicked winter air. The kind that kills with ease.
As the tendrils of coldness pulled away, the goose bumps subsided and Faye pulled herself back to a respectful stance. She had her questions, but they were of no importance, and what he did was his business. She could not judge. Though, it did make her wonder if there was any danger lingering somewhere close. These sort of dealings always made her somewhat wary. Faye took a deep breath and soon her voice broke the chilled silence. “You enjoy your books, don’t you?” She questioned him. A sense of comfort came from him and she could only guess that he was clasping onto his prized possession as if it were about to be ripped from him.
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Post by Icor on Sept 9, 2005 13:25:06 GMT -4
After the cold mistress vanished, he did finally find something to say in return, a response to Faye’s first remark, “And one as sarcastic as you could simply lose one”. He whispered softly, tightening his fingers lightly around the strap holding his book-bag together.
“There are some who would say I am rather... two-tongued.”
Nathicus looked beyond Faye now. He never had a problem making eye-contact with someone. Now he had two problems: Firstly, her mask obviously hindered him, and secondly, the nature of Faye (whatever it was) made him strongly believe that even if there were no mask, he wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye.
He spoke with a similar amount of mischief as Faye did. Smiling vaguely after finally relaxing a little, he pulled the overcoat a bit more tightly onto his torso as the post winter chill got the best of him. When her words about the books touched his ears, he nodded a couple times, in spite of himself.
“I do. I do very much.”
He felt guilt walking hand in hand with his greed which he wanted so badly to rid himself of, but simply could not. Not right now, anyway. He stroked the bag which contained his new books with his thumb. He was, and is mortal, like most entities. He didn’t know what she could see. He should never have assumed the mask played a part in her sight, as one can see with many other methods. Her knowing about the books made his questions venture into the realm of the moons and their infinite powers – did she see him glowing with his greed? Were his sins so great that she could detect the subject of his sin: wealth? He wanted to speak right away, but the questions kept pouring in on top of his breath.
Druid let out a faint sigh, and nodded his head a couple times. He then conjured up the will to look back at her directly, and quickly pulled the overcoat off of his shoulders. He walked around to her side slowly, having no intention of frightening Faye.
“Here, take my coat...”, he uttered in the softest tone his vocal chords would allow.
He reached out along Faye’s back slowly, and placed one part of the still-warm coat on each side of her neck. The size of the coat was obviously too big, but it still rested on her shoulders without falling all the way down to the ground. Nathicus took a step back, and faced her again.
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Post by Nymiane on Oct 8, 2005 0:36:57 GMT -4
The lithe figure stood still slightly swaying to and fro as if flowing with the movement of the air, her lips moved as she rubbed them together. Fingers curled as she turned upon her heel, air whooshing past her as she began to sense her surroundings. A smile tugged upon her lips, though for what reason she knew not, as if he could see it..
“That is not hard to believe..”
Faye felt a rush of uneasiness wrap about her, and yet she remained very confident. The fact she was in an unknown territory, and very vulnerable at the moment caused her to grow slightly nauseated, after all, she had just come from a rather stressful environment. She shuddered and grit her teeth, the shuddering could easily pass for a chill, for she was quite chilled now..
“I…I used to read…” Faye muttered, sadness rang clear in her voice.. She remembered when she could read freely, when she was free to unveil her face. The woman took a deep breath and collected her thoughts, her body seemed a bit tense, though it slowly began to relax once more. As the moments passed on between the two, she listened to his breathing, it’s pace quickened some, perhaps he was thinking of something? She averted her attention to something else, it was none of her business, this wasn’t a time to analyze a being. A chill ran up and down her spine, her fingers gripped into her sides as she felt it’s effects ram into her frame. If one could see there breath in there, she would not be surprised.
“N-No I’m fine..” She muttered, but alas it was too late, for she could feel the warmth of Nathicus’ hands rush over her cold skin and the cloth about her thin frame. It was large, like a blanket one would wrap around themselves on a cold night and it was still warm from his body. Faye’s fingers tugged upon the cloth, covering herself further.
“Thank you….perhaps I should go…and find clothing.” She murmured, half in a daze. The cold air had begun to cause her aches to magnify…
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Post by Icor on Oct 8, 2005 20:55:23 GMT -4
Nathicus shifted his weight as he shifted his jaw. He was becoming less uneasy the more he heard her voice. He was breaking from his tiresome, nervous impressions, and eventually fell into a state of free, careless self-being. There would be no more charades from this point on, assuming you could say that before he was not himself due to his curiosity of Faye’s mystery. Hair hung shaggily all over his chiseled complexion now, as he simply forgot about tending it, placing a hand on his waist while the other cuddled the books.
The tall druid turned to one of the doors for a moment. The door, covered with extravagant vines or what-not, was closed, and he pondered for a moment. He then gestured with his head and smiled mirthfully.
“Will you follow me, Faye? I will get you a gown, and read to you, if you’d like.”
He went ahead and made the assumption that being generous could never result in anything terrible.
“Why not then?”, he thought simply to himself, already feeling the indescribable warmth and happiness resulting from being giving. Watching her with the large coat hanging on her shoulders, he waited for a reply of some kind.
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Post by Nymiane on Nov 17, 2005 0:23:07 GMT -4
Faye’s poise was held with grace and held with relaxation, her fingers danced at her side, slowly she raised her hand to brush ebon locks from her ‘face’. A faint smile crossed her lips, though what good was it to smile when none could see it. She sighed softly and shifted her weight to the side, one hand lowering the other raising, fingers brushed away the locks that hung over Nathicus’ rugged face.
“I would very much appreciate that…”
She shifted once more and felt the warm fabric slide along her bare skin, coldness seeping in every now and then, as did her negative thoughts. It was only human, right? One could tell Faye was a brilliant woman, the way she spoke was educated, beings weren’t just born that way, even if they were self educated. Faye missed her books..
With a long pause, she inhaled sharply, her head tilted to the side and her fingers curled into her palms, still she had no idea where she was. The scents were not familiar and she had not come in contact with others to ask…and so she began to speak once more.
“Where…am I?..” She asked softly, laughter laced in her words, sounding a bit bashful. She felt ashamed to wear this mask, as if it symbolized something horrid…perhaps it did. Few actually knew…
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Post by Icor on Nov 17, 2005 1:40:28 GMT -4
Nathicus smiled at the masked woman and turned. He only half assumed she’d be quite capable of finding her way to his side. He walked to a small wooden door and cracked it slightly, turning back to Faye for a moment, checking on her condition as if in that short period of time something had changed. As he turned back to walk into the room though, he froze at the sound of muffled moaning. His brief confusion has very little time to register before the loud yelp of both a man and a woman filled the room, neither of which coming from Druid. He quickly spun around and slammed the door, pushing his back to it. He turned his narrow eyes to Faye, an infamous, heavy blush filling up his stern face. He tried so hard to look unaffected that his face utterly displayed the opposite.
”W-Wrong room...” he murmured after taking a slow breath through his nose, his fingers stretching out on end.
He cleared his throat and tried to compose himself. Suffice to say, he had a hard time suppressing his urge to laugh. His cheeks puffed up with a wry giggle, which he managed to catch at the last moment and convert into yet another “ahem”.
”I, um.. Ahrm, I am not even too sure what this place is”, he replied, smoothing the wrinkles out of his undercoat, ”I always thought it was a Mehtic Cult – Southerners that started building guilds in the Division Regions, trying to connect Eurothra’s historical guilds to darker forms of magic.”
He walked with Faye to yet another room, putting his ear to the door before opening it. ”There’s more to this place than Mehtism though. The...”, he gestured lazily at a few support beams and windows, then continued, ”Architecture, too Nurmian style to evidence it primarily a Mehtic Cult.”
The door opened, and Nathicus stepped aside to allow Faye into a large, cozy room. The room was less cold than the hallway, or so it seemed, due to the floor in the room being covered with a soft grass; your feet wouldn’t be cold in this room. The room’s walls were lined with vines, and through the ceiling, cones of blue light penetrated circular, lens-like windows, casting an eerie, yet soothing haze over everything.
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Post by Nymiane on Nov 26, 2005 15:09:27 GMT -4
Faye’s hands drooped to her side, palm facing upwards, the breeze danced across her skin as Nathicus walked away from her. She could feel the moments, and in a sense, could see them as well. Every step he took, echoed in her keen ears, his breathing, and the sound of his foot touching the floor just so. The way his body moved and caused his clothes to brush against him. She was taking this all in. As Nathicus halted she bumped into him softly, a hand arose as she heard the moans and grunting coming forth from the room, she took a step back and giggled. A clue to her at least perhaps an inn or some sort of Sanctuary?
“Mm, I believe so..” She blurted out, finding it hard to control her giggles. Faye’s hands clasped in front of her, her head tilted to the side, the feeling of warmth came from the man, which allowed her to assume he was either excited from such, or highly embarrassed, she chose that latter.
”It’s possible..” She started to say, her fingers clasping about the warm jacket, her head turned to the side, long locks of raven hues brushed against the porcelain mask. ”Perhaps some sanctuary, a hide away to rogues. Or…something else..” She wandered off into thought. When the mask had not been placed upon her, she had seen places…almost brothels that hoarded the brightest rogues, guilds upon guilds, sanctuaries to the travelers….
Faye’s hand brushed against Nathicus’ chest as she walked passed him. Her feet shuffled across the floor, her hands outstretched as she felt the waves of air pass around her, the flooring was different. Her head pulled back as she realized it was a carpet of grass, odd she thought, but nothing of this ‘house’ had been normal yet…
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Post by Icor on Nov 26, 2005 23:58:52 GMT -4
Nathicus approached the far end of the room, trying his hardest to brush off the embarrassment from before (as it was indeed embarrassment). He set the books on a small table, the whole time moving rather quickly. It was purely consequence that led the end of his busy “decorating” to the beginning of a soft wind, which churned wind chimes in this background; one might say that this sudden ambience was what paused him due to the flawless timing. In so, as he finished, he turned to look upon the girl in the mask, several unattended locks of hair lingering in his face; nothing, however, could shadow the meek glow of Druid’s olive green irises. He smiled faintly at her. Perhaps his words with her were still few, and even as the night was growing old, he felt as if his time in this sanctuary was made eternal through Faye. How? Not only does love have an incredible variety of styles and colors, but each style, or color if you so please, has its own plethora of mysteries.
He watched Faye examine the room, and them himself gave it a careful observation. He then walked to the small table and ran his fingers over the leathery covers of the books, and chose one randomly, a rather small one. He opened it, and the crackle of its ancient spine was easily detectable.
“Mechtish”, Nathicus whispered softly, “I will translate and read this for you, to Eurothian or Godendian if you’d like, unless you understand the Mechtish language.
He turned back to Faye, holding the book tightly in one hand while the other pulled a few belts lose. Yet another vest fell from his chest, leaving his torso nearly bare; what protected his skin yet was a simple white smock of sorts, yet a little less baggy than such a garment. It held his shoulders carefully, and he moved silently (though not silently enough to be undetectable to Faye) to a large chair on the opposite side of an elegant, royal bed with a kingly headboard, and a huge mattress.
He again looked at Faye, not so full of questions any longer. He felt strangely content in his ignorance regarding the masked girl’s nature and abilities. Perhaps, then, wisdom is better than intellect in the end.
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