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Post by Pa'landri on Jun 22, 2014 22:32:18 GMT 1
With the lack of lights, the lower levels of the City of Stone are as black as a piece of coal in the night, as will the surface be in a matter of a few hours. The people, however, are not discouraged. They are the masters of the earth - be that whether they can bend it to their will or not - they know these rocks, these walls, the ground, ceiling, and every corner. Children and elders alike laugh at the silly folks who crave eyes to see and to enjoy the world, while them themselves share in a mighty feast and a grand festival not far behind the one celebrated in the capital, all while enveloped in both darkness and earth.
On the surface, while the sun yet shines, the sweet fragrance of nectar and flowers fill the air along with the mouthwatering smell of well-spiced food. The royal trees of Quakerion's High House bloom even the more intensely during the Awakening festival, spreading their beautiful and colorful petals all around the city of Boul, as though they were sentient and aware of the importance of this holiday. It is a mighty fine sight indeed for those with the privilege to witness it.
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Fayne Valkeri
Wanderer
Chase the wind and touch the sky
Posts: 7 
Race: Undead
Primary Class: Beastmaster
Primary Level: 1
Morality: Chaotic Good
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Post by Fayne Valkeri on Jun 23, 2014 1:02:48 GMT 1
When Fayne was a girl, she'd lived within the circle of protection of the six cities of Ignis. And when the festival season rolled around, she and her brothers would venture out with their mother and father to Ignis itself. She had loved the performers, the bright colors. She remembered watching a young man get dragged up on stage during one of the great comedies and get splashed with bright orange paint over his sun-dark face. She remembered the knowing nudge from her eldest brother when he saw the way she had watched him. And he might have been responsible for how she tripped into the paint splashed man's path. Namorn had been so handsome in his youth, unscathed by the world, in the moment of the festival and as enchanted with Fayne as she had been by him. It was a storybook affair after that.
How sad it was that it was a festival night that brought them together and a festival night that tore them apart.
She bore the scars of the creature that attacked her on her hip and the memories of that night in the heavy weight of not-quite-silver around her neck. They were all the reminders she needed to keep her head during the festivals even when so many others threw caution and reason to the wind. This year, she found herself in Boul, the year before that in Palandrion. Always moving, always watching, Fayne never stayed in one place for too long and so every festival was a new adventure and Fayne the one determined to see everyone through the night. The moon might have passed, its cycle safe for now, but there were other threats the hunter's wife remained wary of.
It was Boul, she told herself, not a village in the woods. What threat could lie in the heart of County Quakerion? She stood in the street, let the flood of people wash around her and closed her eyes. The scent of spices and flora mingled and brought a smile to her face. She would never relax, not entirely, not after what she'd been through, but her heart was not quite stone. She could enjoy herself... just a little.
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Cristiana Quakenbush
Wanderer
I believe in the magic of preparation
Posts: 7
Race: Mundane
Primary Class: Herbalist
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 0
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Post by Cristiana Quakenbush on Jun 23, 2014 1:54:42 GMT 1
It was the only time of year that Cristiana could bare to leave Tommy alone.
Looking over the masses, Anna pushed out the breath that had been burning deep inside of her lungs. Five days. It had been five, long days since she had laid eyes on her old brother. Tommy hadn't quite been himself when she left him. Anna always had to fight through one of his fits when she left for the festival, the kind where he would lie in the hut, screaming and yelling and begging for her not to go before he cried himself to sleep. But this year he had quietly watched her, his dark eyes never leaving her as she wrapped up the powders and herbs she had been saving for market. Her brother had even helped her pick all of the knots out of her hair, his big hands steady as they drifted through her sea of long, black curls. Having him so calm, so quiet, both thrilled and disturbed her. Could it be that, after all these years, the shattered pieces of her brother's mind where finally pulling back together? Or was it that her brother was ill, sick in the body and mind, and she just couldn't see it?
Twisting a long finger into her curls, she tried to keep from chewing a deeper hole into the bottom of her lip. As much as her brother needed her, they needed the money the festival brought more. It had been quite some time since meat had been a part of their meals, and Anna could see Tommy's ribs start of poke out of his skin. Of course, her own body was just as thin and bony, but the folds of her long dress did its part in hiding it. Cristiana had managed to clean herself in the river before setting foot in Boul, and she had been quite impressed with the way she had been able to scrub away the dirt and grim that had been clinging to her for so long. If only the bright, clear water had been able to take away the bruises. The chief had called for her the night before she had left and, to her dismay, the big man had brought his burly son with him. Anna still shivered at night, feeling the ghostly memories of their weight, their hands, their teeth...
"How much for the rosemary, my sweet?"
Anna nearly jumped out of her skin as a woman's voice broke apart her thoughts. Blinking, she finally spotted the elderly woman who was standing in front of her stall. The old body was bent low to the ground, the back hunched as a shacking, wrinkled hand held tight to a walking stick. Forcing a smile upon her lips, she bowed her head in respect, a wave of black curls falling over her narrow shoulders. "Only a coin, madame," she replied, gesturing at the many bundles of sweet smelling flowers and dry herbs that were pilled high in front her. "Or anything you might be willing to trade."
A quivering hand fished into a leather pouch, and the woman pulled out two little coins. She pushed them into Anna's palm. "A bit of the rosemary, then, and some of powder for my aching back. That is willow I smell, is it not?"
The grin spread across Anna's lips softened. "Yes ma'am, it is indeed." Tucking the coins into the pocket of her apron, Anna picked out one of the little bags of crushed willow bark. It was made of broad leaves that she had folded together and wrapped with morning glory vine. She was far too poor to afford cloth. "Now remember," Anna said softly, pressing the bag and rosemary into the woman's slender hand. She could feel the other woman's veins bumping up under the tender skin. "Let the water boil before you put the willow in, with a bit of peppermint if you need help with the taste."
Giving Anna's hand a little pat, the woman nodded and went on her way, limping as she disappeared into the endless masses as they moved to and fro through the stone city. She had five coins now, and small bad of flour a man had traded for a half of her eyebright. If Anna could manage five more by the time the festival had ended, she might be able to afford to get Tommy a good pair of shoes, or maybe a new set of furs. The bear skin the currently used was starting to stink to high heaven, and Anna couldn't bear to sleep in it for much longer.
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Fayne Valkeri
Wanderer
Chase the wind and touch the sky
Posts: 7
Race: Undead
Primary Class: Beastmaster
Primary Level: 1
Morality: Chaotic Good
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Post by Fayne Valkeri on Jun 23, 2014 2:23:02 GMT 1
Fayne was not the strangest to walk through Boul during festival time, but she did catch a few gazes lingering over her for a bit too long. She was a small woman carrying a large spear during perhaps the safest of festival times in a major city like Boul, she expected a few to be confused by her. So long as that was the only thing they questioned, Fayne saw no reason to start a fight over the matter.
She walked through the busy streets, mindful of her step. So many of the Terramentalists in this part of the country ran around barefoot and the last thing she needed was to step on the toes, literally, of someone who might cause her trouble. Thankfully, the festival brought in a number of visitors and she wasn't the only one who kept glancing towards the ground when the crowd was thick.
The coin pouch at her belt wasn't terribly heavy with coin, but Fayne had enough to spare a few on the festivities. She'd long since run out of the savings she and Namorn had kept tucked away in the walls. These days she made her money with whatever work she could find. Some days she helped in the farmlands, she was always good with livestock, and others she joined small travelling troupes as a merc protector. She was small, but she was good with her spear, enough so that an untrained farmer's family might spare her a few coins or goods to travel the roads with them, especially considering the threat of bandits these days.
Fayne pulled away from the crowd, checked her pouch just to make sure, and glanced around her. Her stomach was growling something fierce, but she figured she ought to pick up the few things she needed before she indulged on the spicy meats of the Boul chefs. With her spear in hand, more like a walking stick than a weapon in the crowd, she located a young herbalist. For the last two years, Fayne had been taking a sleeping drought every night of the full moon. She detested the transformation. She couldn't control it. She didn't want to bare watching herself become a monster, to feel the way her bones shifted and her skin stretched. The drought made it all fade away. She could sleep and wake up and if she wasn't laying in the remains of some poor creature she could almost pretend it didn't happen. But her last transformation had brought her stock dangerously low.
She glanced at the display of herbs before looking over at the young girl. She smiled softly. "Do you have any valerian, dear?" she asked. She could typically find the lavender needed for the brew her auntie had taught her, but the valerian was harder to find.
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Cristiana Quakenbush
Wanderer
I believe in the magic of preparation
Posts: 7
Race: Mundane
Primary Class: Herbalist
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 0
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Post by Cristiana Quakenbush on Jun 23, 2014 3:16:43 GMT 1
Anna wasn't quite sure what she was more mindful of, the dark skinned woman walking towards her or the large, wicked spear the stranger carried with in hand. Weapons were a foreign thing to the girl, and something the still made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The chief, Ulysses was his name, and his bandits had the only arms she had ever laid eyes on. His mighty, bone crushing axe had nearly split Talla's head in two, and Anna could only imagine what it could do if her unwelcome lover ever put real force behind his swing. But the woman approaching her stand didn't have the same air of blood lust or violence about her that he did. The woman's step was mindful, over even gentle, and crowd seemed to step around her the way stones could break the flow of a mighty river.
"Valerian?" she replied softly, one of her thick, black eye brows lifting in surprise at the odd request. Anna had heard of the root, of course, but only recently. Valerian was a flower of little use but the roots, now they were something special. Thick and brown, they could be crushed down into a powder and used as a sleeping draft. She had heard of it being used when the farmer's oldest, a boy just a few years younger than her brother, had been trampled by the big ox they used for plowing. The boy's leg had needed to be taken, and Valerian root had been used to quiet while a healer took a knife to bone. After a week or so, the farmer's son had died of an infection but Anna still had taken time to start gathering the flowers during the summers when they bloomed just at the forest's edge. She hoped to one day try and make the same potion for her brother, to finally let his troubled mind escape from the dreams that haunted him so.
Tapping a scared finger against one of the larger bags, she finally gave the strange a small nod. "I do have it, ma'am, three bags full. Is there something troubling your sleep, any pains? Might I suggest something a bit more mild?"
Anna pursed her lips together, biting into the side of her cheek. What a foolish was she spouting now? Did she want to chase away one of the few customer she had? Her small head gave a shy bow, the blood rushing into her cheeks making her tan skin glow. "Not to question your choice, ma'am, Valerian is a fine flower, and the roots I gathered this year made a good powder. I only worry about it being so strong, you see. Not the sort of thing to be played with. It can bring a sadness to the mind, or dullness."
When speaking to the older healers who came to market, Anna had even heard about the terrible stomach pain that could be brought when too much was mixed into a person's drink. It was a powerful plant, and one that the girl wasn't quite sure she could sell to just anyone, regardless of the good coin she could ask for it. Tucking a long curl behind her ear, her muddy eyes looked up to study the woman's face. The stranger didn't seem to be the sort that needed sleep tonic. There wasn't the heavy sort of bags beneath the eyes, or the yawns. But there was an... well, Anna couldn't really place what it was. It was an odd sort of feeling. Not bad, but something that made creepers scurry underneath her skin. "If it pain is ailing you, ma'am, I do have a good salve available." It was laced with lavender, her favorite scent, and a bit of the sage oil she used to bring shine to her hair. If anything, the smell alone would be enough to cure someone.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Jun 23, 2014 4:55:26 GMT 1
This was a bad idea. By the Goddess, Zasime had no idea what had possessed her to come to Boul during the busiest time of the year. The streets were jam packed with bodies, all enjoying the various festivities, laughing and chatting like they had naught a care in the world. Perhaps if she had been, oh, five years younger, she would have gladly let the commotion swallow her up. Instead, she walked in fear. Why? Because the Awakening Festival was a goddamn feast. People of all shapes and sizes were right here at her fingertips, too caught up in the festivities to think twice about a few choice words. All it would take was a smile, and a drink maybe, then a little walk around.
It didn't take much to imagine the smile of her new companion dropping away as claws sank into malleable living flesh. Red would pour forth, and the hunger could be satiated again. But then, someone else would turn the corner, perhaps seeking privacy. And then the cries, voices raising in terror and anger, shouting, "Vampire! Vampire! Off with her head, and burn the body to a crisp too!" Zasime swallowed, hard. She really wasn't that hungry. Her last meal had been a rather large portion as it consisted of not one, but two parts. Bandits. Shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Err, or a nineteen year old slender female as an easy target. Wasn't like she had much in the way of money anyway.
The ranger was drawn out of her thoughts by an eager young man brushing up against her as he attempted to get past. She visibly flinched, pulling her brown cloak tighter around her form, and nearly backing into another stranger. "Sorry," she apologized automatically. The woman just gave her a look. A dismissive one. Okay, so maybe she hadn't prettied herself up for the festival, but she didn't look or smell bad. Her straight black hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and her clothes were clean. Mismatched maybe, but clean. She still bathed everyday if she could, despite no longer having the luxuries that a daughter of the Sessere was entitled too in Seiron County. Maybe she should...
...watch where she was going? Zasime had been trained in manners. She knew how to walk like a princess, or as a soldier would. Nowadays, she tried to slump a little. But to trip and fall inelegantly on her behind - nearly knocking into one of the stalls lining the street - well, that was something else entirely. "Ouch," she hissed to herself, hiding her mouth with one hand so as not to display her fangs to the whole wide world. Damn, that was one way to attract attention. Fall next to a...herbalist, if her nose was working right. Weren't certain herbs supposed to repel vampires? Or maybe that was just another rumor.
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Fayne Valkeri
Wanderer
Chase the wind and touch the sky
Posts: 7
Race: Undead
Primary Class: Beastmaster
Primary Level: 1
Morality: Chaotic Good
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Post by Fayne Valkeri on Jun 23, 2014 6:44:58 GMT 1
Fayne did her best to smile kindly at the young girl. Just because she knew how awful the world was didn't mean she had to be the same way. The spear was always a bit shocking, and if the girl wasn't from Boul with all its soldiers and guards then perhaps she wasn't even used to seeing such things, let alone one wielded by a Volcanion woman like Fayne. She kept her countenance easy, her smile kind, and her eyes that had seen too much cruelty in the world soft. She could be commanding when she needed, but now was certainly not the time. There was no one to impress, no threat to cease, she could just be the desert woman Fayne.
"Just the powder will be fine," Fayne said with a small smile. Valerian's potency was precisely why she needed the plant and little else. She'd tried subtler brews when her transformations were new, but they had little effect. Even if it put her to sleep, the moment the changes started she was wide awake in agony as her body was stolen by the monster. And then she'd be in a half sleep of the worst kind. She could feel the monster's presence, feel the base needs that controlled it - the hunger for flesh, the loneliness without its pack - but she could do nothing. It was a nightmare she was in no hurry to relive. There was nothing worse than being a prisoner in your own skin. Valerian had fixed that. And sometimes, Fayne liked to believe it kept the monster from its full strength too. She still woke up covered in gore most cycles, but far more rarely did she wake up in carnage like her first year, though perhaps she'd just gotten better at distancing herself. But Valerian at least allowed her to pretend she maintained the control of her own body.
"No pains, dear. It's not even for me," she said, the lie coming off her tongue with ease and a soft laugh. She'd gotten far better at lying these days, what was one more? "Valerian doesn't grow well in Volcanion, nothing really does. I try to help my aunt keep her supplies stocked while I'm away." The smile was easy, kind, not begging to be trusted but simply persuading. Her husband had always said she could sell a Sieron water with those eyes. She glanced at the leaf pouch the girl had pointed to and guessed with that stock she'd be set for a good long while if the girl didn't try to persuade her further. She seemed like a nice girl, demure and sweet, but sweetness did not a merchant make.
Before Fayne could ask about the price of the herb she was determined to buy, there was a small commotion as someone nearly tripped straight into the poor girl's wares. If the woman hadn't landed quite so messily, Fayne would have almost questioned her integrity. She'd run into an awful number of thieves who tried to rely off their 'clumsiness', but this girl seemed genuinely unsure how to work her own two feet. Fayne offered the hand not grasping her spear to the girl on the ground. "Are you alright, miss?" she asked. Fayne glanced at the hand covering the girl's face. Had she managed to hit herself on the way down too?
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Cristiana Quakenbush
Wanderer
I believe in the magic of preparation
Posts: 7
Race: Mundane
Primary Class: Herbalist
Primary Level: 1
Soul Points: 0
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Post by Cristiana Quakenbush on Jun 23, 2014 7:21:43 GMT 1
The corner of Anna's mouth twitched, but she tired to ignore it. The creepers under her skin seemed to go wild every time the woman opened her mouth, but the simple fact of the matter was that it could be the kindness that felt to alien. Talla had been good to them, but few others. The sharp side of the tongue or the back of a hand was more comforting than such soft, big eyes, and the very idea of that twisted inside of her stomach like worms chasing after water. Such was the life of an orphan, she supposed. Letting out a small sigh, the girl finally relented. As long as the powder ended up in hands that knew how to use it, there would be no need to fear that it would be misused. Or that would at least be the excuse she would have to keep giving herself. Anna knew that, to bring the coin she needed to live in the capital, she would have to start thinking only was what did and did not sell. Even if it meant possible harm to the customer.
"You aunt is a lucky woman then," she said with a small laugh. "Having a niece willing enough to poke about for herbs. If I could catch someone to go and collect seeds for me from the i'lands, I surely would." Even Anna had heard of the mythical fruit the dragons had once feasted on, the kind that was said to have magic growing inside of it. If she could get her hands of something of that caliber, she might be able to have see her first gold coin. Maybe even a bag full. With that kind of money, she could even take Tommy to the more experienced herbalists, to see if they had anything up their sleeves that could help ease the madness.
As she dreamed of a better life, a life far away from bandits and dirt floors, Anna started to pull out her spare bags of Valerian. If she was luckily, the stranger would want all of them. But just before she could plop them down onto the stall, another woman came running up and smacked right into her customer. Letting out a low hiss, Anna clamped her teeth together as she tried to hold back her tongue. If she was in the village, she'd give no mind to giving someone a piece of her mind. But here, where she needed to make the best impression, Anna knew that she must be sweet and proper. No one would bother buying herbs from an unruly herbalist, even if she had the best looking product for the least amount of coin.
Taking time to be sure that nothing had been knocked off of her stall, she leaned over and peered down at the clumsy woman. Her pale hand was up and over her mouth, the way a person might had a yawn if they were in polite society. Either that, or she had managed to bite through her cheek. And if that was the cause, she would start bleeding all over the place. With another small hiss, Anna eased herself off of her stool. Her feet were still stiff and swollen from the hard road she had traveled out to Boul, and her first few steps were wobbly, but eventually she managed to waddle her way over to where she was needed. "Are you alright, ma'am?" Anna asked, wincing slightly as she crouched down to get a better look at the woman who had so gracefully fallen on her bum. She really was a pale thing, wasn't she? Probably someone from the House, what with those lily white hands. Though... Anna's eyes narrowed slightly. Shouldn't someone from money know how to dress themselves properly? Anna had less money than a mouse, and even she knew not to wear clothes that were so mismatched.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Jun 23, 2014 8:37:21 GMT 1
Breathe in...breathe out. Breathe in...and breathe out. By the goddess, this was all quite ridiculous.
Zasime was okay. She was a goddamn vampire. That whole falling down thing? Hadn't even really hurt. Seriously, here she was, sitting on her bum, being a mewling lout about it. It was just- people were staring. People were staring at her. And maybe she was freaking out a little, maybe she was still a little hungry too, and maybe she was fighting the instinct to just push through the crowd as if there was a goddamn dragon at her heels. Oh Mother, look at your useless daughter. Pathetic. Definitely not one of the family. The thought of wanting to appease Mother suddenly made her feel even more queasy. Mother could go drown herself.
"Are you alright, miss?" Startled, slate gray eyes met strong brown ones. A dark-skinned woman with a spear. For some reason, something almost like kinship blossomed in her chest, a warmth that Zasime had not known since she had fallen to this...curse. But that was crazy because she was a vampire. There was no way in hell that this woman was a vampire too, or at least, Zasime was pretty sure she could recognize another vampire. She was still new to this, so maybe not? The ranger twisted her head slightly to the side as another feminine voice piped up, asking if she was alright as well. Oh joy: it was the owner of the stall she had nearly knocked into this time. Her heart sank. Why couldn't they all just, STAY THE HELL AWAY. Because they were nice people, that's why. Or pretending to be nice anyway. What she really needed was some mean people, like that woman from earlier, to just give her a dismissive look and go on their way. She was just some ruddy stranger. No need to help the clumsy girl, oh no!
Too late for that. The young woman let out a nervous chuckle, dropping her hand away from her mouth. She was in control now. "Oh yes, perfectly fine, thank you both. Just a tad surprised, but that's what you get for not paying attention!" She forced her lips into a small smile. Act natural, act natural, she chanted to herself. Totally clutzy mundane, that's me!
Her eyes froze on the proffered hand again. Goddess knows, she couldn't take it. But that would just seem offensive and...argh. "Um, I can stand up on my own. Much obliged, however." Zasime picked herself up slowly so as not to cause another accident while remaining mindful of the eyes on her. Namely on her clothes? Eek. Her cloak usually covered what was underneath - in this case an oversized light green tunic that had been hastily bound with a strip from a different shirt and striking scarlet pants with various patches made over the years - but the fall had revealed all. Minus the throwing knives; they were still strapped under her sleeves. Yes, yes, it was a far cry from even the military uniform she used to wear, but she had to take whatever she could get her hands on what with the messy meals. Please stop staring at me.
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Fayne Valkeri
Wanderer
Chase the wind and touch the sky
Posts: 7
Race: Undead
Primary Class: Beastmaster
Primary Level: 1
Morality: Chaotic Good
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Post by Fayne Valkeri on Jun 23, 2014 21:14:49 GMT 1
"Well I'm glad to make the most of my travels," she said with a smile, and that much, at least, was the truth. If you ignored the context anyway. Fayne just about let out a sigh of relief, just barley restraining herself, as the young herbalist fell for her words. She needed the valerian, was going to have to buy it one way or another before she left the city. Fayne much rather give her coin to a girl who looked as though she needed it than some over-charging merchant here who would just fatten their purse. The young girl was hidden beneath folds of cloth, but she looked terribly thin. This would certainly help them both.
But of course, before she could make her purchase she had to deal with the mismatched raven girl who'd sort of dropped in on them. There was something... off about her, but Fayne couldn't put her finger on it. She was certain she'd never met the girl before, but there was something familiar about her pale features that tugged at her memories. What was it...?
Her hand fell as the girl refused her assistance and Fayne shifted her weight, both hands moving to her spear as she leaned against it to watch the girl get herself together. "Are you sure you're all right?" Fayne asked, brow knit together more out of confusion than concern. Why did this girl seem so familiar? It wasn't her face, not really, because Fayne, despite all her travelling, was sure the two had never met, but still.
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