Arikarka
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Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316 
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 20, 2019 5:49:14 GMT
It was still dark outside, the animals not yet stirring and only the rarest of birds were out and about to being their morning song. The air was cold, any heated breath would freeze the moment it exhaled - particularly if you were outside and not just lingering in a doorway. The smell of a new blanket of snow could be tasted on the tongue if one knew what to sense for. The sky was clear, leaving the air even colder than it might have been had there been cloud cover, the stars shining brightly in their absence. There was one little bird up this early though. Citrine, for all her rambunctious and child-like levels of energy always rose before the 5am bell on the dot, on her own accord, without fail. Rising from sleep she'd not turn on any lights, keeping her flame out of her wings so she wouldn't ruin her eyes. She'd hate to have to wait to let her eyes readjust to the night. Not in the early mornings. Not before sunrise. Dressing in simple pants that laced up the sides, the usual black leather, vine-green breast band wrapped secure enough to keep everything secure and a blood red simple v-dip shirt over top. Her scarf tied around her waist was double wound to also act as pockets - in which she slipped in a few items she'd need for her morning rituals. A candle, a vial of saltwater, a small vial of pure black ink, her gemstone ring, a folded up piece of worn parchment with a black spot in the center. The feather she'd need? She'd pluck it fresh from her hair when it was needed. A representative of fire, water, earth, air, and dark - all laid out on a symbol that they were intimately familiar with. Components securely tucked into her belt the firebird opened her window and free-fell the brief ten feet or so before spreading her wings and banking upwards to lift quietly in the dark winter morning and climb with steady wingpumps high above the city and out into the harbor. The air was colder here, expecially above the water. Bit of ice were at the edges, though the majority stayed free-flowing water thanks to the ice-carvers and dockhands who kept the harbor sail-ready in all seasons. Further out and down the coast ice and salt formed into icicles and frozen patches, the cliffs looking like pure shadow in the night. Starlight reflected off the quiet sea - the only sounds the surf. The only smell ice and cold and spearmint. Banking over the Great Harbor and beyond the Naval Harbor, staying clear above so as to not draw suspicion or nerves from the navy below starting their day either, Citrine flew higher into the night. The cold grew deeper here, but it didn't slow her down. The cold was welcoming after not feeling it for over a century. It brought back memories far gone that it was like reliving the chill. It numbed her sorrow every morning, only to be burned away by the rising sun. The lighthouse beacon of the Harbor Watchtower was her map marker of where to turn North and start following the coast. It was a bit of a lighter shade of darkness now - but sunrise was still at least a half hour or more away. Turning with the city to her right she could spot dots of light over the horizon where servants were starting morning chores or partiers had just returned after a long… long evening of revels. She much preferred the light of the stars on the ocean but gave the city its due. There were wonders there, yes, but none like the sea. Dropping altitude, tucking her wings close to her chest like a cloak, Citrine began a free-fall. 10… 30…. 50… 80 feet down, and there was still about a hundred to go. Eyes closed she let the sound of the water be her only guide as to when to snap her wings open again - which she did - and let her claws skim the icy surface of the sea. Droplets froze immediately where they splashed and sprayed her pants and legs - a diamond forming on her face before melting, the iced sea-mist tinkling as it hit the inky black of the water's surface. But she was reborn in the image a seahawk - the winds and spray of the ocean were no match for her wings. She could even dive deep and fish if she wanted to - but now wasn't the time for that. Time takes all
But memories
And yearning dreamsKeeping close to the sea surface Citrine followed the coastline until she was about halfway from the most southern point and the equivalent latitude of the Peaktop Aerie (where the griffins rested when not on duty). She'd found a small cove, a brief inlet of surf that cut deep into the cliffside. It was protect there, and hidden. Perfect for her private ritual she performed each and every morning. In the ever greying light the perceptive seahawk spotted her cove and banked a sharp hairpin turn and lifted upward, claws extended to grab onto the cliffside. Two toes in front, two toes in back, pinching the rock and ice without worry as the razor like jagged edges of her inner talons snagged into the surface and held her steady. Heavy wing beats bat backwards and up to ensure she remained standing upright before going limp to the side then sliding slowly to rest against her back. The ground was covered in ice and salt. Rocks and sea grass that had managed to grow this high in the cliffside crunched and rumbled under her feet as she started the first few footsteps to the rocky table she'd set up the first time upon discovering this place. A straggly pine tried to grow, same as the barren twigs of others. The cliffs of rock were worn from centuries and centuries of rainfall, ocean winds, and the changing of seasons. Natural debris carpeted the ground - but they never bothered her feet, scaled as they were. Echoes of love
Bind the years
And keep you nearCitrine stood there. In the quiet. In the darkness. Reflecting. As she did every morning. As carefree and wild as she was? Loved to be? This moment in the morning was what kept her grounded. Tethered to the ground. Her anchor. Because, if this couldn't? What would? She knew the answer to that. And that answer wasn't here. And wouldn't be. As if guided by an instinctual pull Citrine, at the precise moment the sun breached over the horizon, lifted her head, flared out her wings, and opened her eyes. The sun lit up like a brazier leagues on the other side of the ocean - but the same fire that was in the sun was, was inside her - and her eyes reflected the same burning brightness of the largest star. Her wings sparked and sizzled, the oil that coated them ignited from the living celestial that lived inside her very blood. A kree-scream rang in her ears surrounded by the most beautiful yet warrior-inspiring melody she'd ever heard (and would probably not hear anywhere else). Her heartbeat was the same as the ancient elemental's, her blood ebb and flowing to match the tides that were shifting right below her feet. Rising her head proudly she matched the scream, mental drumbeats carrying on her defiance, power, and dominance as a creature of fire and air, of storms and wind, or lightning and hurricanes. Her father was greeting his daughter, and so his daughter greeted her father. With her eyes trained on the rising star Citrine sang the sun in welcome. It was because of the sun the moon had light. It was because of the sun there was warmth. It was because of the sun she took flight. The elemental flames licked and crackled over her wings and descended through her hair and traveled over her skin. She didn't burn, she would never burn during this morning ritual. No, she only burned if she denied the fire inside. She burned if she kept the anger inside. She burned if the rage was kept inside. Born again from pain, born again from rage, born again from sorrow - she would always be an entity who was hot headed, temperamental, and quick to anger. It was who she was, because that is how she came into existence in this life. For all her reincarnations? She had yet to reset from this - some one hundred odd years ago. We were fated
Through the stones
Time was torn and resewn
Blood and bone
You're my soul
And you're my homeThe phoenix sang the sun to full, rising and falling melodies that would have inspired poets and encouraged armies. Sweetly the notes circled and repeated, like a candle that warmed your hands in the deepest winter. Sharply the krees rose the adrenaline of warriors' hot-blood who had their very lives on the line. Fire continued to burn from her wings and reflected within her eyes. The Firebird's Child.  Pink and blue pastels now covered the sky. Barges of ice sat on the horizon like fat cows in pasture eating the same grass for hours. The waters far below crested with white foam despite the frigid temperatures. The rocks she was standing on began to become less cold and soon her song came to an end - the surf and wind the only sounds. The sun had risen, her first ritual complete.
Inhaling deeply, wings sputtering out and the fire dying in her eyes Citrine came back to herself slowly like one would when floating to the water's surface. Instinct had left her to her own devices again. Rolling her neck to break the kinks and stiffness that had formed from her song and shaking her wings like a dog would rain on its coat the firebird curled her toes in the gravel to re-center herself. Another successful morning, at least, so far. She had plenty more to continue with before she could return to Sail's Prow and meet Mala for breakfast.
Stretching her arms above her head to pop away her shoulder stiffness as well Citrine began to mage hand out the items she'd brought with her - spreading the canvas parchment that held the black spot down on one of the flat stones. To the north she placed the ring she wore around her neck, the only time she ever removed it, chain and all. To the east she plucked one of her long twisting feathers out of her hair. Towards the south she set the candle. The west? The vial of sea water. And in the center? Right on the black dot - the vial of pitch black ink.
Sitting down, legs folded lotus style, Citrine leaned over to blow on the candle, as if to blow out a flame, but instead it lit. The fire matched the same that had been reflected in her eyes, the same fire the sun had. Bright, yellow, with a center of deep orange. The cold was wrapped around her like a fresh blanket of snow. But the cold, while it did draw bumps on her skin, didn't bother her. This wasn't cold. This wasn't anywhere near cold. Not like what she knew it could be. Ever since then? She'd no need for anything to keep the cold away. If she wore a jacket? It was for the fashion or statement of position. Or because she felt like it - never because she felt the cold.
Can never fade
The love we made
You have my love
The heart of me
Every breath I breatheThis half of her ritual mornings, done every morning, rain or shine, cold or heat, hungover or sober; this was about her. She'd given the sun its due, now it was her turn. "Orin, Lass. Aye hope ye'er doin' just grand taeday." She softly cooed, tears years gone. "Teh sunrise twas beautiful taeday. Just as always. Aye miss ye storms though…. Aye… truly Aye do." Citrine spoke to herself, as if there was someone else sitting across from her. As she spoke she prepared herself for the first of many spells she would cast this morning. Well, perhaps today would just be the one. She wasn't leaving town, at least she didn't plan on it. But in all her lifetimes? It was a lesson learned - always be prepared. Mage armor was an important percentage of being prepared. And with her knack for performing powerful magic when most needed? Her near-invisible armor that coated her skin like the oil on her feathers lasted twice as long. But there was a cost to this instinctual, wonderful, primordial, fantastically awe-inspiring and fear-causing magic. All magic always came with a cost. Anything other than the simplest of effects? It could be her last. Sure the effects of her wild magic could be hilarious. She'd even been turned blue once - much to her embarrassment - but that wasn't always the case. Once in a great while the magic was too potent, too suppressed, to fire-angry that it lept out of her very skin to lash at its host. The Firebird was unforgiving as He was warm and comforting. And if it was her time to go? Without the benefit of a guided reincarnation? Then she wanted her last moments of calm like this, of this routine, to be speaking with Orin. We were fated
Through the stones
Time was torn and then resewn
Blood and bone
You're my soul
And you're my home
Sing me a song of a lass that is gone
Say, could that lass be I?
Merry of soul, she sailed on a day
Over the sea, to Skye"Alright then Luv, this es et. Let's hope Aye dae't turn blue again this time, Aye? Aye don't think Blue would find et funny ef Aye pranced around pretendin' tae be 'im - even en ah world 'e wasn't ah-part o'. Fuckin' seal…"She'd delayed long enough, her palms pressed on either side of the parchment and staring at the ring she never had the moment to pass on with the question attached. Closing her eyes the sorcerer called on the heat in her blood and pulled at the magic she'd had since she was first born as a human some several hundred years ago. Encouraging and coaxing at the same time to do as she questioned. It was a dance, both parties in equal partnership. She'd never demand her magic to do anything, it was too stubborn to simply be told what to do - just like its host. So Citrine danced with her music, sang to it, coaxed it out with a tempting smile - all in a single instant. It was like time hung at the precipice of a free-fall to the ocean below. From this moment onward? Her magic was its own entity, choosing what to do on a whim. And Citrine wouldn't have it any other way. The chaos of it? She loved it. With how many times her magic had been forced through various channels and been fed through so many sources of power - arcane, divine, primal, occult, psychic...? It was no wonder if wanted to take some control back. And so it did. Pdtsw8571d20 [Even if there are spelling errors, weird missing parts of sentences, etc I won't edit this page for fear of having the roll re-do, and I don't want to be accused of cheating a re-roll  First Wild Magic roll go! If its a 1? I get to roll a d100, which will be in a second post. And then the post will continue in post 3. If its not a 1, I will continue and finish the post in post 2]1d20 |
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 20, 2019 5:57:52 GMT
The protective magic of mage armor prickled over her skin, starting where her hands touched either side of her ritual space (despite the spell not being a ritual) and rushing like lightning to cover her entire body. For a moment? The hair on her arms stood up, the feathers in her hair poofed up, her wings flap-and-snapped to shake off the excess energy and she felt a jolt run through her better than any coffee could ever hope for.
Then the magic settled, sinking back into her skin purring like a content cat. There had been no lashing today, just results. Smiling Citrine leaned back, disrupting her lotus pose - stretching one leg out and tucking the other against that one's thigh, and let her palms take her weight behind her as she pushed backwards. Her wings spread to lay on the gravel and snow that still stayed on the cliffs here looking like rich silks spread out on the ground. Watching the sun rise further the sorcerer took a few more moments to herself to simply, exist. A moment of peace before the wild of the day.
Little did she know she had a visitor not too far away, her focus on the sun and memories than anything else around her. And so she missed the figure nearby. After all, what sort of person or creature would make their way to the cliffs like she had?
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Post by Malakbel on Jan 22, 2019 15:09:49 GMT
The Yuan-ti regarded himself as a cautious, prepared individual and thus for this end he acknowledged the importance of being "in the know" about every and all subjects so that nothing could take him by surprise. It could all have been just a way to justify his own innate curiosity, however, given that he had absolutely no shame when it came to collecting this information. The concept of spying was a bit alien to him, information had no owner... Lest when it concerned everybody else. But it was not like he would be upset or mad when someone found out something about him, that meant they had been crafty about it. Unless they used some unsavory methods to achieve it, those he considered heavy handed.
So it was that after a first couple days of Citrine always leaving and arriving at the same time caught his attention. What would she be doing? Was she an actual spy delivering information to his contact every morning while everyone else was asleep? Did she have some kind of lover she could only visit so early? Admittedly the latter was not nearly as exciting as the former, but the possibilities kept him going. Thus he decided to send his familiar after her; a bird with amazing eyes able to keep track of her no matter how far she went. And he readied himself as well, and after she exited he did so as well.
His familiar kept him informed, first by a crude for of telepathy about where was she heading, and then only by keeping track of where the bird was flying. Outside of the city, out in the sea, no... to the shore, to a cove. He took longer time to arrive, and thus decided to switch back and forth between sharing his senses with his familiar in order to percieve what was going on. A bit hilarious when considering that he was still walking and could feel his own body tripping and about to lose his balance from advancing while not seeing from his own perspective.
He looked and listened to the whole thing with a sort of academic curiosity, until he was all but wondering. Who the hell is Orin? Was that the way they referred to the sun in her religion? Or where she came from? It wouldn't be out of the question. Maybe some counterpart to Valkur? She had mentioned storms. It preceded some casting of magic. Either being cautious as well or already planning to go into combat. Hm. He focused his senses harder on what was happening, as his body fell down and had him cursing out loud. The bird let out no such noise, his eyes capturing every motion of the moment with cold efficiency.
Once he was sure everything had ended he had his senses return to him. He found out he was not that far away actually, but his body hurt a bit. He wondered, did she do that every single morning? That was dedication, he thought. He wouldn't give any gods regard enough to mention the time of the day should they ask, and the comparison was abysmal. Then he stood still, and spent some time cleaning the dust and wet from his clothes by slapping it off. Tellsigns of his carelessness. He didn't say a word, he thought she was done but he couldn't be sure and he didn't want to interrupt. If anything, if she felt like talking she would ask. Which made him think what he would say. The bird flew off though, taking to the sky once again.
He would raise one hand and wave in a small greeting, though.
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 22, 2019 16:35:37 GMT
The faint sound of wings moving caught her ears. Not, however that they were wingbeats at all - there were plenty of gulls and seahawks within these cracks and cliffs. No, what drew her head-tilt and turn was how silent the movement was. If she wasn't so keen and knowledgeable about birds? She'd never have known. But to hear the sound of air pushing from what could only be owl wings? That was odd. Owls wouldn't be on the coast.
In the morning light she saw him, peaking over some of the cliff rocks he'd managed to scramble his way up and over. A small wave was all she got and Citrine? At first she was startled, a pulse of alchemist fire scenting off her wings before adjusting back to normal. Then she was cross, she didn't need a spy or babysitter. Then? She was fairly impressed that Malakbel had climbed up here all this way. Still in too good of a mood from the jolt of greeting the sun and the surge of mage armor over her skin the phoenix didn't want to break from the contentness by being anything but comfortable.
She waved back, a beckoning trill adding to it. "G'Moring Lad. Fancied ah stroll this early en teh morn? Didn't think Aye'd see ye until et was time fer breakfast." She moved a wing to make space near her on the flatter of rocks she was sitting on - the 5th limb retracting to settle on her back while the other still splayed out to bask in the rising sun. As Malakbel decided what to do Citrine would turn back around and mage hand the ring and chain back towards her and re-clasp it around her neck. Silently sitting there still Citrine waited for Malakbel to get settled in whatever fashion he chose before doing anything else.
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Post by Malakbel on Jan 26, 2019 6:54:33 GMT
"Well, damn"
He said without an inch of shame loudly and as a way of saying "hello", with only a slight pinch of disappointment, perhaps sarcastic, showing in his voice.
"And here I was thinking you would be involved in some death cult thing... Or had a spicy lover that was the enemy of the entire city."
Admitted, although he was fairly interested in knowing what had actually been the strange thing she had done. He wondered if she'd do that every morning. He couldn't understand the reason, naturally. To him, all and every sort of ritual that did not provide with an effect or benefit was a waste; but then again that was how he felt about religious rituals as well and anything of the sort. Selfish, he was.
He approached with care, as he didn't have wings and his legs were already a bit beaten up from climbing blind, because that was clearly what any sensible, intelligent being would do, and made a clumsy attempt to actually sit on the rock loudly.
"I don't really sleep well half of the days, most times I just stare into the ceiling and revise my plans fo the day, but even that gets tiring when it's the same thing several nights in a row."
Confessed. In actuality he wasn't lying, but he was just holding on a bit longer before laying the questions on to her, even for someone with such a lack of tact or shame as him it seemed... Blunt to bust in like that and start asking questions out of the blue. All in all, he already had found an answer, what he had to do now was find the question.
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 28, 2019 21:15:53 GMT
Snorting at Malakbel's comments Citrine rolled her head so she could watch him struggle over to sit down near her. The sun was steadily rising, but it seemed she had no need to rush back to shore for breakfast. "Nae Lad, nae death cult o' hidden lover who's tryin' tae bring down teh city." She laughed again the ridiculousness of the idea. As the Yuan-ti tried to sit without stumbling too much Citrine reached out with her mage hand to grab onto the back of his shirt to keep him from slipping to far forward. It was a long fall down, and the shore and craggy rocky break wouldn't do anyone any favors. "Aye got ye Lad, ye won't be fallin' on me watch - what'd ye do? Try tae see if ye were part goat? Climbin' this high up, " She stole a glance up at his familiar who'd roosted up on the cliff. "An' prolly seein' through ye' lads' eyes? What were ye thinkin?" It wasn't a scold as much of a surprised 'seriously, you went through all that effort? And for what?'
Not being able to sleep wasn't the best of excuses or reasons to stumble through the dark of pre-dawn, but neither would she judge. It wasn't like she'd never done her lion's share of sneaking around before. "Aye understan' those nights." Yes . ' 'Specially ef teh sea is silent an all ye 'ave en ye head are memories and scenes ye'd rather forget despite teh warmth they bring when they do pull ashore.' Her voice was a mellow and far off, lost in thought still despite drawing enough attention to her companion to at least speak with him, internal thoughts filling in what words didn't say.
The silence dragged on, the warmth of the sun feeling nice against skin despite it still being winter. It was a beautiful sunrise, made all the better for the still wind and spare dusting of clouds. Citrine was content to sit in silence, for once not filling the space with endless chatter. Mornings were a sacred thing for her - a time of day when she could dedicate time to just herself and her thoughts. Memories. Future wishes.
The ritual materials were still there on the other side of where Citrine was sitting, glinting in the morning rays, all but the ring of course. She debating wrapping them up, but what was the point? She assumed he'd seen most if not all of her singing the sun to rise through his familiar. She wasn't embarrassed, but neither would she be the one to bring it up. There was a peace to the calm that seemed to pair well with the otherwise constantly active and vocal firebird. The passion of the reds, the heat of the gold, the simmer of yellow all wrapped up with slivers of coy pink and roguish violet. Citrine wore the morning well, complementary, like a set of jewels worn by a noble woman; atop her simple outfit of blood red, black leather, emerald band, and citrine belt.
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Post by Malakbel on Jan 28, 2019 23:09:56 GMT
"Eh" he said with a smile as the laugh reached his ears and shrugged after she helped him sit without having him fall. It was lucky that he didn't have a fear of heights... But probably he would've of had if he didn't know the spell of Featherfall .
"The pain will go away and the wounds will heal, but the unsatisfied curiosity will remain. You know like some people say a brave person dies only once but that a coward dies many times? Well it's kind of like that. I mean, most hard stuff people do they don't remember much of the journey or the hardships it took to get there in the same way that they remember the fact that they got there."
He overexplained the idea, but it was better to make sure that it got across properly. Malakbel accompanied her in her silence after her sentence, following her gaze. He never paid much attention to the sunrise, and he never saw it rise up from the ocean. It was a funny thing, that. It was quite a beautiful sight he realised.
"At least that's what I've learned. Out of all the things I've done, the ones I regret the most are the ones I've not had the courage to do."
Said at the end with his gaze fixed upon the horizon still, she light reflecting off those snake eyes of him, with that unnatural glimmer that oft times some creatures had in their eyes. Emotionless eyes, cold eyes. Most of the awkwardness in his social relationships came from that very same feature he guessed, for the most human of traits were the eyes, he decided. They were surprisingly expressive, they let you know someone was there, listening.
The subject that had brought him up here was still being avoided though this time not only by his caution at not rousing her anger, but by the sunrise itself. His own emotions as a Yuan-ti were pretty dimmed, toned down when compared to most other sentient beings with the possible exception of the Lizardfolk. Few things genuinely got through to him with the use of emotion, logic was by far the most predominant force in his decision making. It was a strange occassion then when that happened.
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 28, 2019 23:48:10 GMT
"Aye - an there are moar ways tae die then just teh loss o' life." She added, the thickness of her voice betraying nothing of how deep that sentiment ran. Her wings however, as they always did, betrayed her emotion. Some people wore their heart on their sleeves, easily falling in and out of love as quick as the tick of the clock. While no less a stranger to the whims of desire, it wasn't her heart that Citrine wore openly. But her emotions. Many people passed off the strange cycle of smells they sensed when she was around as merely imagination. Or an open shop window. Or something more potent being carried from upwind. Most of the times, the neutral scent of candlesmoke, ash, and clove were enough saturated into all her belongings it just seemed the sorcerer was a heavy smoker of cigars - despite the fact that rarely Citrine enjoyed the pleasure of smoking. If you knew the firebird long enough, kept her company, and began to decipher her moods, desires, and emotional connection? They'd would be able to read the phoenix like a map.
Around them, despite the rising warmth of the sunrise, the stillness of the air, lack of clouds, and it being winter the clear undeniable smell of rain lazily began drifting around them. The fresh smell of dirt moistening, plants becoming rejuvenated, and life awakening. The sorrowful smell of fears and doubts being washed away, the pressure of letting one's self go during the swell of a rainfall that made it seem like nothing else was around but the feeling of raindrops sliding over your skin and washing your presence away until nothing else was left. Of being so low that only in drowning were you able to breathe again.
A delicate thread of spearmint wove through the rain, hard to pick up. It'd be there, a small presence, before the rain smell came back to wash it away. Like trying to keep a hand full of water without leaking - impossible to keep for more than a few moments. It was impossible to even guess as to what that scent represented. Citrine shifted a clawed foot into a sort of clenched fist, breathed in deep, then let go a slow lung full of air the same time she slowly released the clench of her foot. She still hadn't cut off her staring out onto the horizon.
"Why'd ye track me douwn an' follow me Lad." She finally sighed, resigned almost, for what she was sure to be some sort of question regarding her decidedly lack of secret lover or city espionage. "Must 'ave been important enough fer ye tae 'ave come all this way… must be quite ah heavy one. An' don' give me any bullshit ab-out eggs ag'in." The humor was there even if her voice remained stoic and distant.
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Post by Malakbel on Jan 29, 2019 0:30:47 GMT
He nodded in agreement, the various scents the woman gave off were beginning to register in his memory as being tied to certain thoughst perhaps, or attitudes? At first and a bit still now he wondered if she did that on purpose. As a way to fool people who got used to it, if they believed it couldn't be controlled or was instinctual. That, on par with expression and actual lies would make social interactions into a threefold web of complex cues that he could not hope of actually imitating, it was just too taxing. He did remember them as they repeated themselves, the patterns, because he hadn't yet mastered the skill of forgetting things at will, but had decided not to trust it entirely. On ocassion and small things yes, but to always remind himself that it could also be a lie, as with everything in life there were no guarantees about anything at all.
"I just told you!" He replied, his tone was still playful at first but he made it a point to actually let it show through that he had actually told the truth, in a way. He had expected to find her into something far more sinister, or in trouble, or with an actual lover hiding out there, but in the end his curiosity got the best of him.
"I was curious" Said truthfully, anything else would be overexplaning something that had a simple root. "On the off chance you were naked an making not-eggs with some shmuck, or lass, I figured I'd confirm it with my other bird friend and be on my way. On the chance you were actually getting blackmailed it would have been best to be nearby. On the chance you were actually trying to summon a deadly god of the seas to drown the city in a tide of blood, well, I wanted to learn just how you'd go about doing that. In either case the common root to all of those is that I was curious and what you could be doing here could be pretty much anything, with anyone."
He made a small pause considering his words and how to best express his way of thinking to another living, breathing, warm-blooded sentient creature.
"To put it in another way, I would've still checked it out even if you went out to the highest security wizard tower in town, that's trapped with who knows how many magical traps inside. There is only so much curiosity I can take. But really now, what was that? I don't think I've ever seen something similar."
Part of him hoped it'd be the sea-god thing, but he knew that in all likelihood it wouldn't be even close.
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 29, 2019 2:56:02 GMT
Citrine listened to his ridiculous and ever increasingly obnoxious rumor he was determined to prove correct slowly turning her head to finally break away from watching the sunrise to stare with an incredulous look on her face. "Nae-eggs?" She deadpanned, a snort and wrinkle of her nose when he was finally finished. It had been his final comment that had drawn her gaze away, the curiosity as to what 'that' was. She understood curiosity, it killed the cat after all. And only satisfaction could bring it back to life.
Shaking her head as she exhaled a soft laugh. "Nice tae knae ye'd drop eve'ything tae find me Mala. Et means more than ye can probably knae." That was a story for much, much later - if it was even ever told at all. Drawing her legs up to sit in a lotus position, tail feathers flicking like a tailcoat of a suit jacket to settle nicely behind her she sat up off her palms to rest her hands on her knees, and semi-faced her morning company.
"Aye doubt ye 'ave, after-ul, ye've only met one phoenix et would seem." She grinned then, the teasing exchange between forging friends chasing away the rain and mint to return back to normal. "Aye told ye et's what Aye was. An' while there might be ah few subspecies, others attunded tae other elements, Aye'm one o' teh ones tied tae fire. Teh sun. Me Father, en ah way." She realized how strange that might sound to someone who still didn't even believe her to be what she stated. "Teh Ancient Celestial, ah bein' born from teh sun itself, es me Father - because o' him Aye was reincarnated as Aye am. 'Is fire runs through me veins, keeps me warm even en teh bitter cold." Her wings had a bit of a sour smell for a moment there, something off about what she said, before she corrected herself, "O' at least assists en keepin' me warmer from teh cold." Her wings became refreshing again. "An 'that' en which you witnessed through ye familiar? Was me greetin' me Father as ah good daughter should. Aye am teh Firebird's Child an' Aye owe him his due each day. Aye've nae missed ah morning en Aye'd say… ooooi…." She paused then, clearly and obviously counting in her head.
"217 years, goin' on 218 en this current year." She finally concluded. "Even when sick o' injured, o' hungover… o' even captured… Aye always rose fer the time o' sunrise and managed at least ah small song fer teh Firebird. Ah this point? Aye'm afraid what would 'appen ef Aye missed ah day. Before Aye made sure tae dedicate me mornin's en this way? Aye was often up with teh dawn fer ah good ahhh... two hundred o' so more years beyond me original count." She turned a bit to look back over the ocean. "Teh mornin' es me favorite time o' day. Ah fresh start." Silence reigned for a moment before she added. “Gus am bris an latha agus an teich na sgailean." The strange language, foreign and impossible to recognize by anyone native of this world. It flowed like a babbling brook over her lips, her accent sounding perfectly at home in this speech pattern.
"Until the dawning of the day and the shadows flee away.” She translated into common, looking now back to Malakbel. "Sunrise es ah special time o' day, as without et, teh day would never come. Aye tell te this, because there's somethin' en ye Aye trust. Aye hope Aye'm nae wrong." The last bit was a bit of a quieter, softer, spoken declaration. Hearing how he would have come find her, no matter what, despite only known each other a handful of days? It struck something in her.
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Post by Malakbel on Jan 29, 2019 4:51:48 GMT
He shook his head, confirming it: No eggs. Well, not to her knowledge she had said, which definitely counted for something. But it made him wonder.
"Well, friends are the only thing you can't buy. Because if you can buy them, then they're an ally, not a friend. Least that's the way I see it. It's kind of like the difference between someone you sleep with and a whore."
He showcase his amazing people-skills and his ability to express an idea to it's utmost significance, once again. But it was true in his eyes, as for coming to find her... He failed to see how that was any effort on his part. Maybe most people worked differently or had different priorities than him, but then again that was probably because they had different life experiences than him and were shaped differently. It was not such a far fetched possibility. And the fact that he was thinking about it instead of realising it outright showed just how many people he had actually gotten to know on a personal level across most of his life. The answer was not many.
He listened intently when she began to talk about it, bringing up once again the subject of being a phoenix. He smiled, he would play along. Well, it would be more correct to say that he would respect her beliefs on the subject and not be an obnoxious prick about it. And that was a lot coming from him. This time what she said made more sense and was on par with one of his own theories on the subject. She was a sorceress. Sorcerers had some kind of innate connection to magic... And hers was being related to a Celestial. Now that was interesting.
He then wondered if the whole phoenix thing was semantics. At least until the two hundred year part came along, that just sent him back to stage one. But on the other hand there was an easy way to figure out if that were actually true or not... but he would have to thread carefully. He didn't want to sound disrespectful, or like he didn't believe her. That wouldn't be true. The fact that she claimed to have performed that ritual every day... Even if it had been for only a single year, that was crazy to him.
"That's a lot of dedication" he admitted out right, blurting it out like he just couldn't keep it in.
He then brought both of his hands together as if in prayer, just below his nose. Inhaled and shot a glance her way. That was no language he knew and he appreciated the translation, but there being so many races and languages he had no idea where it was from, other than it was not from any language he knew.
"Alright. You have lived two hundred years. I have a couple questions. First being how are you so good looking while you should be looking like a raisin. Don't tell me it's an illusion spell please. That would both be amazing, and also creep me the hell out. The former a little more than the latter."
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 29, 2019 16:36:15 GMT
A more carefree laugh came from the comment about whores, didn't she know it! "Ye're damn right there, Mala. Ye can 'ave all teh gold en teh world yet nothin' tae show fer et." Fluffing her wings she retracted them to her back, narrowly missing a wing-buffet to the back of the Yuan-ti's head just barely it was hard to tell if it had been on purpose or not.
It was obvious to someone who spent a lot of her life interacting with a wide range of people that Malakbel wasn't one who often reached out and extended the hand of consideration and, dare she say it, friendship. And if not friendship, at least an honest sincerity to pursue a path he found worth it enough despite the path it took to get there. She could respect that, did respect it, in fact. If she didn't? She'd not be answering his questions and defiantly wouldn't be opening up about her relationship with fire, death, and life.
She noticed the smile on his face, her own face softening before turning into the sassy grin she was more well known for. She couldn't wait for the day for him to eat the crow at his feet about her heritage. Citrine didn't try to push the topic further, nor try to exhibit anything that would prove it to him that what she said was true. Knowing herself and her lot in life? There'd come a day, someday, where she'd be reborn in a rush of flames and smoke and sparks. That'd be proof enough - she just hoped he'd be there for the lightshow.
From his tone of voice? She gathered she'd thrown him for a loop with the year calculations. "Aye?" She prompted, bidding him to ask what he wanted. She found herself looking forward to the questions he asked, never knowing if they'd be far-fetched or serious - but they'd always be sincere. She liked that.
At his comment on her looks? The phoenix peacocked, a pleased vain trill cooing from her throat as she gave a slight toss to her head and lifted her chin with a satisfied uplift of the lip. Never would she deny being vein. "Nae, nae spell at-ull, Aye promise ye tha'." She hummed, a considering tone as if pondering a game of knocking two thoughts around in her head to see what would win. "As fer how Aye'm nae ah raisin as ye put et? Let me show ye - et's more than' two-'undren. Just been ah phoenix fer about tha'."
She stood up on her knees lightly, enough so she wasn't sitting on her scarf. The long stretch of fabric, a deep burnt orange deserving of her namesake, began being unraveled from her hips. Designed in the pattern of a dancer skirt the excessive bolt of fabric had multiple jingling silver and gold disks stitched onto it. Images portraying a multitude of races and classes, landscapes and events, were stitched with a careful hand in high quality metal threads. Gems, of all sorts - even pearls - decorated and enhanced the design. The boarders and edges had a repeating script in a strange language, multiple languages in fact, while other visually pleasing runes and symbols all came together to form a beautiful masterwork piece of wearable artwork. Spreading it out, her mage hand grabbing the edge to help shake it out, the total length was at least 3 meters.
"This, Malakbel, is me life story." She began simply, an edge of a storyteller's tone weaving into her voice. Pointing to the first image, a young human child with a wild mane of hair, gold and copper threads clearly marking it as a young Citrine if the hair was anything to go by. A violin was at her feet, arcane and occult symbols created a border. "Aye was born human, simple an' full o' life an excitement. Learned tae play teh violin then, from me father. Me mum died when Aye was young, sae et was just 'im an' Aye, traveling en ah caravan. We belonged tae ah wandering performing troupe - et's where Aye get me flair from." She grinned, not denying her own knowledge of knowing how 'above and beyond' she could be at times. Her fingers moved up the timeline, the same human now a woman instead of a child, standing on the dock looking out at water - silver thread now illustrating the sea. "Et was 'ere first Aye learned tae love teh sea."
Knowing the story was a long one, she didn't loiter on any one image too long. Her finger kept scrolling through the history, pointing out just a few of the 'milestones'. "After human Aye was an elf, lived en teh woods an made ah life as ah druid an' potion maker. Read fortunes and grew herbs. Lived ah full life there, at least until Aye grew bored an' wanted somethin' different. Sae Aye became ah halfling bard an' became even better at me violin an' dancing. Even danced with fire, back then." She was now pointing to very decked out illustration, still with the iconic mane of hair, flinging fire poi around her wrist - the balls of fire marked with small chips of ruby. "An then one o' me favorites - teh kitsune." A several tailed fox humanoid was there now, at least four tails visible. Her storytelling voice had turned into one of fond reminiscing the longer she described her past lives. And as she 'scrolled' through the events patches of tight stitching could be seen where more fabric had been sewn on.
Finally she came to a large scene, designs of ice and snow surrounding the brilliant form of a full avian, wings spread and fire surrounding it. Ornate long feathers were stitched in remarkable detail. And, despite the fact this was the largest image to date, taking up nearly twice that of any 'scene' stitched previously? Citrine barely spoke of it. "An' 'eres when Aye was reborn en smoke an' fire, an' rage an' truth." Her voice went a bit flat here, just like soldiers who spoke of a serious battle fought. Surrounding it were small representations of nearly every race, ranging from tiny to large sized humanoids and beastial bipeds. Clasped in the bird's talons was a large white snowflake. Continuing on past that were several depictions of the Citrine Malakbel would now recognize, a winged humanoid, only a few images scattered about showing the blazing full bird with the oriental tail and crest feathers. A majority, if not nearly all, were themed nautical, with ships, flags, pistols, and the like acting as decoration. One or two showed a very ancient looking Citrine, but they weren't a focal point.
"Each time Aye start ah new life Aye start again as ah young woman an' grow an' age from there. Aye've seen meself en me prime o' a young lass, a lass who's got wrinckles frem laughin' tae much with silver en me hair, an' I knae what Aye'll look like when it's all turned white." She hinted at a smile. "Age'n esn't tha' bad. An' really, en about 20-30 years Aye'll look me best. Teh mature figure suits me nicely ef Aye say so meself…. But Aye can't deny - ah younger body 'as et's perks." She looked up then to look at his face, see his sort of reactions to the story told. She kept the wearable scroll of her life spread out so he could look at it as he pleased. "Aye've seen me friends grow old an' pass on, an' their children grow, an' pass on - an their children's children grow. Aye've been apart o' so many adventurin' groups an' families et's 'ard tae remember them all without getting lost en thought. Aye've had lovers, an' enemies. Aye've been betrayed an' betrayed others - both payin' fer me misdeeds an' gaining karma from fightin' through what others 'ave thrown at me. An' through et all? Aye still can't 'elp but see each day as ah new adventure. Life's all about livin - an Aye don't think Aye'll ever tire o' et."
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Post by Malakbel on Jan 31, 2019 19:46:27 GMT
The yuan-ti listened to the story with a sort of academic insterest instead of disbelief, hand to his chin he had watched with interest both the depictions and the very decorated fabric of the repurposed "scroll" of sorts, analizing the tale and small clues intently. Once again he refrained from interrupting mid-sentence or mid-explanation and saved his questions for the end of the tale. It made him think a bit of the World Serpent and it's worship. He figured if that were true, gods as they were, would probably be trying to kill each other over who held the real title of "god of rebirth" or something along those lines. Or would have been, in any case, were the World Serpent not an ancient and forgotten god.
"I'm a bit torn myself" He admitted with a smirk upon the mention of Citrine looking her best in about twenty to thirty years from now on. "I usually like young girls, but older women do have a charm all on their own too"
His expression took on a reflexive squint, thinking about something. About a couple of things in fact. For the moment being he had decided to instead of believing Citrine to be out of her mind or delusional, to pretend that she was telling the truth and accept that, and thus go with his usual way of questioning everything and everyone. And if she managed to satiate his curiosity, and him being unable to prove otherwise, scientifically he thought, there would be no difference at all between believing her or not since he couldn't prove otherwise and thus maybe he should then default to believing her. Until proven otherwise.
"Alright, so let's say come certain age you explode and are reborn. Due to abeforementioned said magical reasons. That doesn't seem too unplausible. Other than making you the envy of every lich out there, since you lucked out on the arcane lottery."
He said, and on a side note he would also be envious of that sort of immortality. It was just about the only thing that was outside the reach of any and every species on Faerun and the known mortal planes. It was why desperate wizards and sorcerers, in spite of all their power that could rend reality, turned to evil gods and foul sorcery in order to extend their lifespans.
"So you respawn as a young woman. That is why you don't look like a raisin. Going by that, you have recently been respawned. But you retain memories of your friends, and lovers and enemies and such. You do seem awfully cheery. Mind you, I like that. But when I think about living forever, and trust me I've spent quite a while thinking about that subject, I figure by the time I've lived a full life or two I'd be so jaded, but so, so jaded of the other mortals around me I would have to find some secluded lair somewhere and fill it with traps in order to live peacefully."
He proposed, and after a small pause, continued.
"I thought I'd just gradually separate myself from the mortals and their affairs, that if they already seem petty to me now they would be aggravatingly so by then. Eventually I would just make someone that stained my carpet with mud explode while everyone else watches in horror and flips out, and I would be there, not really understanding why is everyone so upset and not really caring either, just that my rug is now stained with mud and that upsets me. Essentially I would stop being able to connect with other sentient beings, at least ones that haven't lived as long as me; because I would already be jaded after living many lifetimes and the things that once filled me with wonder and interest now seem hollow and repetitive, and the things I once cared about now seem utterly unimportant."
He pointed out, he was genuinely interested in hearing her answer out, due to the fact that this presented a serious problem for him. It had been an obstacle whenever he thought about the idea of reaching for immortality... Or getting into contact with anyone holding such title.
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Arikarka
Approved
Linked Characters: Citrine, Gigi, and Rhia
Posts: 316
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Post by Arikarka on Jan 31, 2019 21:49:02 GMT
Watching him digest and think through what she'd just described put a bemused smile at the corner of her mouth, eyes glinting in amusement at his considerations. Casually she began to clean up her morning ritual items - snuffing out the candle with a crooked finger gesture to make the flame jump from the candle, to her finger, then zip up her arm, down to her wing join, and ultimately be flicked as if water by the tip of her flight feathers on a wing over the ocean below. The ink vial was mage handed to sit nearer to her hips, same with the now dead candle, and vial of seawater. The feather? That was snagged out of her own mage hand with her right hand so she could survey it with a concerning and considerate eye.
"Ye'd be damned if ye weren't wrong Lad. Et's teh older on'es who knae what they're doin' an' aren't ashamed o' et." Her eyebrow rose playfully as she gave him a side-eye gaze, feather still near her nose being twisted back and forth by thumb and finger. He began thinking something deeper, she could tell by the way he squinted. Still the feather twisted. Her head cocked a bit as she paid attention to his thoughts as he began to speak.
"Ha! Lad, et'd onl be an envy ef et were guaranteed tae last fer ferever!" She tossed her head a bit as she chuckled. "N'er said et twas somethin' like ah Lich would be interested in tha' kept me goin'. As fer luck? Aye, ye can look at et tha' way." She brushed off the curiosity there, hoping he wouldn't dwell on the whole 'luck' part. She was enjoying this conversation, strange as it was, and didn't want to have to cut him off.
She nodded along to this out loud musings, neither fully agreeing or denying, simply letting him think it through. As he began describing how he'd take to 'immortality' or at least a long several lifetimes of survival? Her face soured a bit with a crinkle of the nose and agitated flutter of wings. A hint of fresh ink punctuated the feeling.
"Tha's one way tae look at et Aye suppose. But tha's where ye an Aye? We've ah vast difference en though there." She paused her twirling of the feather and matched his eyes. "Ef ye view et as ah burden, ah chore, o' even somethin' tha's bound tae end up negative? Then teh long life es wasted on ye'." She spoke as if she wasn't the only one to experience what she was currently living.
"But fer me? Lad… Aye. Love. Life. Cherish et. Strive fer et. Bask en et. All teh things ye get tae do? Experience? Learn? All teh people an' folks ye meet on teh way? Oi - how can one lifetime be enough tae really experience life tae the fullest? Humans 'ave such short lifespans, compared tae teh dragons, elves, dwarves, tieflings, an teh like. Et's nae fair they can go sae long compared tae teh breath humans get. Aye'd dae nearly anythin' tae keep livin'." Her voice was starting to get more animated now, posture shifting to have a bit of a bounce in her back and her hands, all three of them, began to 'speak' their own language as she talked.
"Teh point o' livin' es tae experience et all! Aye daun't want tae 'ave tae choose what skill tae learn an' what to disregard - Aye want tae experience et all! Teh races all 'ave their own cultures, societies, fun - ye're cheated on that ef ye just live en ye own born race! Aye - there's loss. Nae denyin' tha'. But et's all worth et." It was clear - there was no jaded opinions about the years she'd lived already… or assumed future years. "Ye only stop findin' interest en things ef ye give up an' let yeself become jaded an' checked out o' what et means tae live an' experience life. Aye've a'undred lifetimes planned - all spannin' different races an' trades' an' specialties, different statuses ferm teh poor-as-dirt commoner tae ah proud ruler on teh seas. Et's endless really. An' Aye plan on livin' only until Aye've run outta things tae try. Then? Aye can pass happy."
"As fer how Aye live through et without goin' mad? Ey think o' et as ah play." She said simply and matter-of-factly. "Ah play with an untold number o' Acts. An' each Act 'as ets own cast o' characters, an' plots, an' joy, and sorrow - movin' on until teh next. Then Aye change costume an' emerge as me next character." It was such a bard thing to say. "By keepin' me thoughts focused on teh current Act et's nae as overwhelmin. Life's ah dangerous game, but one that are worth teh odds fer all teh joy ye can get outta et."
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Post by Malakbel on Feb 3, 2019 17:07:26 GMT
The Yuan-ti brought that hand down to his chin feeling it's shape with both his index finger and the thumb, trailing along the edges as he listened intently to her explanation. He had agreed mentally on the older women issue, that was usually the case. There was a thrill that as unique to first times, and even a single act could have many, many first times on different aspects of it, situations, and flavors, but there was also something to be said about jobs well done and particularily well-tested resolve for it. It all boiled down to the kind of person you chose, he concluded. And it's attitude. A young woman could either be squeamish or clumsy, depending on her own excitement. An older women would be less of both usually, even in spit of her own excitement. He guessed the former mirrored perceived reality, to see how far someone was willing to go or to let themselves go with you; while the latter had those choices made already usually and was less concerned.
Naturally, those thoughts trailed off as he conversation about lifetimes and lives kept going, and that got him thinking as well except this time he decided to share his thoughts on the matter.
"Alright" He said then "But let's suppose this. Think of it as a job. Right, you're a smith's apprentice. You've never done it, it's an exciting thing. You learn for a year, and then you become a fully fledged smith with your own forge because you have been really successful for some reason and then you begin doing your own things. It's exciting, yes. Because it's a job that involves creation and allows for some side projects. But after a couple years I'd wager you'd start to be real damn tired of making horseshoes."
He said and then made a small gesture with his hand, pressing his fingers into a fist and then opening it up suddenly as if to mirror an explosion
"So let's suppose you get damn tired of that and decide it's time for something else. You blow up and reincarnate, I dig that, now you're no longer a smith and live a different life. But see as a Smith you would have to have dealt with people, talked to them, etcetera. But unless you were a grumpy-shut in you would have interacted with some, perhaps many people, and in thirty years worth of concious life-time, you would have gotten a good knowledge about how people function. To the point that when young people come at you with something brand now or they start to get into a problem you can look at them and say "Yeah... I've gone through that, this and that is going to happen next"."
He continued while making gestures with his hands, pointing out at invisible children with a stern tired look in his face, simulating an underbite with his chin as he shook said hand at the unseen troublesome youth.
"Now again in your next life let's say you're a bard. A musician, taking off from that play you mentioned. You meet even more people, ones that want to get in your pants, and the ten myriad ways they go about it. You get pleasantly surprised even, things you hadn't experienced as a Smith because instead of being a grumpy old man now you're a diva that's pretty hot and you get flowers every day or whatever it is that strikes that given population's fancy."
He shook both hands with open palms to the sides as to emulate some "big" thing that was being celebrated or was "Oh so good".
"But then you learn a lot more about people and the way they hit on you, how they behave, and how they react. And after forty years of that, well, except the part where you explode before things get too boring, you learn a lot about that to the point where social interactions have no secret. And now you respawn as... I don't know, someone who ends up working for a given kingdom as a public officer. Then and again every time you look at someone you're like "Oh yeah, this is going to hit on x" "This other guy is a total douche" "Yes, this person is going to treat me in that way because he expects said way" "If I want to get this out of that person I should do that. Someone gathers courage to give you a gift that's got him so nervous... But you already know what's it going to be beforehand. Still, you act surprised for the sake of it."
A small pause followed in where he thought on how to best put it into words, the thing he wanted to formulate.
"What I mean I guess is that surprises would run out really, really fast. And the smartest you are, the faster they run out because the more you figure out on each run. Among the possibilities I thought for keeping your... err... mortalness at hand is finding a way to erase our own memory... Or selectively forget some, so as to be able to relive them and experience those sensations in full again. But if you remember everything at all times its... Well."
The yuan-ti looked upwards into the sky bringing a hand against his chin again, the tip of his fingers rubbing upwards against his lips and then falling down again slowly. He looked into her eyes then.
"Look at it like this: Most people would be thrilled to go out of the city. That's a huge adventure on it's own. But not you. You would need to free.fall a hundred kilometers from the sky to the point of almost plummeting into the ocean to feel a thrill, because anything else is such a bore. And you need to feel alive, so you'd do it. And every time you will be called to even greater heights. And people will look at you as if you're crazy for doing so, because they can't understand you other than you're incredibly corageous at first. And crazy at the end and as it goes on. Because you're not like them, you're just pretending to be. And the longer it goes on, the more pronnounced it becomes, so you can't stay too long in one place."
He said at the end, without taking his gaze off her.
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First Wild Magic roll go! If its a 1? I get to roll a d100, which will be in a second post. And then the post will continue in post 3. If its not a 1, I will continue and finish the post in post 2]1d20
