Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328 
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Post by Citrine on Feb 14, 2019 19:19:17 GMT
It had been exactly a tenday since she and Thea had been stuck in the cliff side cave and took shelter from the storm. In that time Citrine had managed to stay out of trouble. Really… she had. In fact? Other than her usual morning ritual of singing the sun then the evening route of playing up top for the Ship's Prow guests (still only ever nights a week), she'd stayed inside.
Her room was in disarray - an oddity for the usually organized and precisely clean phoenix. But as the tenday went on? The trunk stayed open, papers, notes, scrolls, and even books ended up being scattered across the single room space. Other possessions and trinkets, odds and ends that she'd collected over her lifetimes were now displayed in the room. Like a magpie, she had a lot of items. They clearly didn't fit into the traditional space of the footlocker… But magic didn’t care about things like -space-.
By the bedside were journals, all precisely labeled in a messy but legible cursive scrawl on the bind and front cover. Volumes 67, 92, and 7 were stacked on the bedside table. Volume 531 was lying upturned on the floor, pages keeping the book's V shape on the ground. Volumes 134 and 288 were open to reference points next to her on her desk, and the tome she was writing in now? It looked to match the same style as the others. Her giant Captain's Hat sat on top of the wardrobe. Portraits of people, a wide and strange mix of races, as well as landscapes had now been hung on the walls. There were no plaques to say who they were - the owner didn't need them. Her violin was lovingly given space on top of the bed, perched on blankets that seemed like they'd better fit into a drudic village or the like. Overall? There was a strange museum like quality to the possessions throughout the room. Some old, some new.
She didn't usually pull out her belongings like this. And not in a public inn where she might have to pack up and leave at any moment. But she'd been feeling homesick lately… ever since her anger outburst in the cave. So, with no one who could even come close to understanding or relating to the mess inside her head? She surrounded herself with objects and shinyies that held meaning only to her. Mementos and thoughts from years ago. Of all her loss, and everything she had to try and live for still. All this and more , she surrounded herself with, like a nesting mother, as she sat on her desk stool…
… to read.
Yes. Citrine was reading. The things she did for friendship. She'd told Thea she'd come back in tenday to discuss her, well, lack of confidence and ability to succeed as a sorcerer. She'd not wanted an answer then, but really wanted the woman to think on it, what it would mean. What mental and past scars would need to be broken open in order to embrace the present so as to become a newer version of herself in the future.
But really, this reading wasn't so bad. She was primarily reading through all her journals - a habit she'd had since she first was enrolled in lessons back in Chelliax as a schoolgirl. She found she'd learned best by listening (much to the dismay of her teachers) but then wrote down everything she remembered later that night once she'd had a chance to process it all. And this habit had been with her since she was in starter school and could finally read and write. Some of Holly's books that she'd sent with her, notations and more scientific journals and scrolls on various methods of magic sources, casting type, school theories, were being read through as well - only coffee and a splash of rum got her through those.
Citrine though was determined to really be able to help Thea though. And she wanted to be prepared. Even if the answer she got today was a simple, "no thank you". At least Citrine would know she'd done her best. She'd have to. Thea'd called her Rain. That later afternoon, when the storm had cleared…
She took friendship seriously. And, though she offered it out like candy? Not many took her up on the offer, to call her Rain, or to take a feather freely given. But those who did? Rain would do her best to move mountains. And for three in particular? She would destroy said mountain. Friendship, companionship, loyalty - these were the dearest treasures she had.
So for Thea? Citrine would read not only her journals, but also the stupid dry academic sources Holly had sent with her, in order to figure out the best way to hopefully coax the nervous sorcerer into embracing her storm given gifts. Magic had chosen her for a reason. She wanted to know why. It would have been an easier process, of course, had she had Khalessi here - but that damn cat was nowhere to be found. She'd not seen hair or tail of her familiar since she'd appeared here on Faerun past that first night. So she struggled to keep herself focused on her own. For friendship.
Knocking now on the door where she'd fist met Thea, the shop in the trade district, after business hours in freshly bathed, hair neatly tucked up behind her bandana and modest tricorn hat on top, wings shining in the not quite yet evening, late afternoon sun of the turning to spring weather, and dressed in her usual pants paired this time with a more lose fitting light weight, sleeveless, material in a royal jewel tone purple (no jacket) - Citrine didn't look one bit like she'd spent tendays cooped up in her own room without bathing the entire time. Really, the casual style of the criss cross halter top seemed almost a bit strange on the pirate woman - one small x crossing at her neck while a larger x crossed between her wings.
"'Ello Thea!" She beamed and waved a wriggle of her fingers in greeting when the genasi answered the door. "Hope ye haven't forgotten about wanten' tae meet again? Aye knae Aye should've sent ah message o' something, but Aye've been… ahh… caught up these past days an' didn't get out tae much."
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 14, 2019 19:25:01 GMT
There were some projects that came easily, and others that didn’t. Thea trusted the skill in her hands, now, and sometimes – usually – she could make what she envisioned. There was, naturally, a fair bit of planning involved, but after years of practice, Thea could see how a project would come together in color, in glass, in the shaping and pattern she’d need. It wasn’t exaggeration to say that, if she’d made something before, she could get it right on the first try. Certainly, that was true for molds, but molds were a bit like cheating, or so Thea felt.
No, this was freeblown glass, the artistry part of it. If Thea wanted to blow a sphere, she could blow a sphere, perfect, even, round, no lumps or unsightly ovals. She had made her first kraken years ago, and while each one was a little different, Thea still considered that she could make one in a single attempt.
Not since her apprentice days had a project frustrated Thea as much as the phoenix.
It wasn’t that she didn’t have a good picture in her mind. Thea could imagine it perfectly, a flat base, red and orange, arching up like flames, a sense of movement and life and spark to them. Then, rising from the flame – a bird. Thea had dithered a little, unusual for her, on whether she wanted the bird to be perched above the flame or emerging from it. Emerging from it, she’d decided, tail feathers and talons still engulfed in the flame but massive wings spread wide, colored like the flames but etched with precise feathering, a downward curved beak emerging from the head – shaped like the diving cliffbirds Thea remembered from half a lifetime ago, the ones Citrine so reminded her of.
The problem was that Thea had made flames before – and she’d made birds before. She’d never colored a bird like flames, but in principle it was easy enough. Except… none of the practice flames she’d blown looked quite right. They were just like she’d made them before, but… after the hours she’d spent in the cave, Thea had come to a deeper understanding of flame, and she couldn’t be satisfied with what had seemed flame-like enough before.
Other work had gotten in the way too. It was hard to be happy working on mugs and vials for the clients she’d made at her showing – even if they were her bread and butter – when there was so much more Thea wanted to be doing.
The first few days of thinking about the phoenix, Thea had at least had one other project to keep her occupied. She was crafting a sign in the shape of a fish. It needed to be thick enough to stand up to wind and the occasional gentle knock against wood, but still hollow in the middle to keep it from being too heavy. For that, she’d gone for blue and gray coloring, with silvery details for the scales to give it a sheen, a flash that would be visible from a good distance away. She’d added two glass hoops for hanging, fused to the fish’s back, high enough that the fin would be between them, and spaced well so that the sign wouldn’t twist in the wind and shatter. One of the eyes she had colored; the other she had left out, a private little joke; it wouldn’t be seen anyway, with the fish displayed sideways.
Midway through, she’d worried – briefly – that a solid glass plate with a fish etched in might have been better – certainly sturdier, anyway. But… Thea just didn’t think it’d be quite as spectacular, and she wanted it to flash.
Then, of course, she’d delivered the sign to the shop, and that project had ended. In the back of her mind, she’d hoped – but she couldn’t count on it, Thea knew.
On the evening Citrine was due to arrive, Thea was standing over a sketchpad with a gnome sitting next to her on a tall stool, and practically bouncing up and down in her excitement. “And you’re sure it’ll work?” The gnome asked, a plaintive note of worry entering her voice.
“Yes!” Thea grinned. “It won’t be the same as the fish, obviously, but I promise – I can make you a sign of two gears, linked together.” She glanced down at the sketchpad. “We’ll go for a silver color, not too bright,” she quickly added the last bit, just in time to forestall the gnome’s open mouth. “I promise, I’ll start work on it tomorrow. I don’t know if I can finish it straightaway – “
“I’ll pay extra!” The gnome blurted out. “Another ten percent!”
Thea giggled, resting sideways again the table. “Eellon, I’m not trying to bargain with you! I have some other pieces to work on tomorrow, but I promise, I’ll work on it as soon as I can! Come back at the end of the day after tomorrow, and either I’ll have it done or a good reason as to why not – all right?”
“All right,” The gnome said, reluctantly. “All right, Thea. I’m just excited! It’s hard enough to get the shop noticed, the space is a bit small, and when I saw that fish of yours, I just knew – a glass sign! It’ll really make the difference.”
“All right,” Thea was still smiling. She glanced down at the pad where the excited gnome had sketched what she wanted. “I’ll see you day after tomorrow, Eellon?”
“Yes!” The gnome hopped off the stool, landing neatly on the ground. “Don’t worry – I’ll be here!”
Thea walked her to the door, still smiling, and had just closed it and put the notes away when she heard Citrine’s knock. She went back to the door, opening it with a smile – expecting Eellon back with a new question – and froze at the sight of Citrine.
“Oh! Oh – um – come in,” Thea took a half step back, leaving Citrine space to enter. “No, I didn’t forget, I… Just – just wait a moment, okay?” Thea turned and fled into the back room of the workshop.
She re-emerged a minute later, carrying very gingerly something covered with a light cloth. Carefully, carefully, Thea set it down on the high table and, with a deep breath, whisked the cloth away.
It was a phoenix – born of the glass as Thea had imagined it, a base of dancing flames with a bird leaping up from them, long wings outstretched over the fire, a wicked curved beak the highest point of it. And the color – it was red and orange and yellow all mixed together, hints of blue in the heart of it, but it shone in the evening light, dazzling, reflecting it back like real flame would; it felt like it would burn you if you got too close.
“It’s for you,” Thea said, quietly. Her arms were crossed in front of her, and she gripped her elbows with the opposite hand, trembling faintly. “… if – if you like it.”
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 14, 2019 19:58:05 GMT
Pleased that she hadn't somehow managed to offend or make Thea think she'd forgotten about their meeting, Citrine stepped in and, just as she had before on opening day, kept her wings tight to her back just a little tighter and more self-conscious than usual. As Thea darted off the phoenix couldn't help but chuckle and lean against the counter to await her return. Just what had called her away so suddenly? It wasn't because she smelled - a solid hour of bathing in oils and soaps had seen to that (though nothing masked the candlesmoke, ash, and clove that hung around her even now).
Biding her time by drumming her fingers on the display table Citrine busied herself by looking around and just generally humming to herself, intrigued at whatever it was that Thea was now bringing back. She was immediately curious - the cloth covered something drawing a subconscious whistle of wonder as she set it on the table. Like a fox she slunk to the side opposite of Thea and held onto the edge of the table with both hands - eyes nearly parallel to the table surface so she was looking exactly at whatever was about to be on display. Her tail flicked repeatedly to the side. Her wings flooded the room with the peppery bite of coriander.
Thea didn’t introduce the piece - she didn't need to. The moment the cloth was taken away her raptor eyes grew large, a gasp whistle turning into a back of the throat quick series of chirps over and over again - she'd lapsed into speaking the birdfolk language as she whistled and cooed, literally, in appreciation.
"Oh Lass." She'd returned to common in a breathless whisper, eyes transfixed on the statue. It was so small, yet so precise. If she'd thought the kraken was impressive? This blew a hole in that mental ship. Like a child she reached out, using a back claw to help boost her up and find support from a storage ledge under the table, and carefully wrapped both hands around the art. Tail pluming into the air, both feet now on the shelf below the table, and front smooshed against the table Citrine propped herself on her elbows to let the light orbs from above play off the colors in the glass.
Even with her rougher fingerpads she could feel the tiny details in the wings, the smooth texture of the fire, and pricked herself from the sharpness of the beak. Finger now in her mouth, humming around the digit, she dropped the statue out of her physical hand to let her head prop on the open palm - catching the figure's flight with a splash of sparks as her mage hand appeared to nestle it in her magic. The sparks of her fire magic gave the glass even more life, the shimmers and shine exploding to make it seem now that the pocket phoenix was alive and being reborn. The smell of a light wood varnish paired with the smokey heavy smell of a well aged whiskey wafted into the room now, replacing the coriander.
That's what it reminded her of. Being reborn.
The fire. The wings outstretched. The yell to the world that dared it to try to keep her dead and frozen on the ground. She'd felt that. Once. And now that memory, that she'd never shared with Thea, was forever displayed in glass.
"Et's ah treasure Aye'll keep with me forever." She promised, knowing immediately it would be one of the collectables she kept in her trunk and dragged around with her no matter where she went.
She looked now for the first time from the statue to look at Thea, standing there in a defensive posture with her arms crossed and shaking. Grinning, she rose an eyebrow over the statue still held aloft by her mage hand. "Et's almost as pretty as teh real thing." She vainly preened with a shake of her head so the feathers in her hair ruffled and swayed. It was then she realized how ridiculous she must look stretched out on the table, legs straining to keep her small height up off the floor. No regrets.
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 14, 2019 21:38:06 GMT
Thea was so tense, waiting for Citrine’s response, that even her hair was still.
It was hard not to think back to - to the last time she’d made a gift that had meant this much to it. It had been for Dominic. Of course it had been for Dominic. Thea was rapidly becoming sick of how many of her memories revolved around him; had she really been so centered on him? Had she really wasted so many years of her life focused on such a – such a –
But the memory was sweet nonetheless, and Thea had always tried not to let things that came later color memories of the past. She’d had a lot of lessons in that.
It had been the storm, of course. Dominic hadn’t had storm magic, not like hers, but he’d taken her out into the thunderstorm, held her while she was afraid until – reluctantly, perhaps, but until – Thea had seen the beauty in it, felt awe at the power of the lightning and thunder. They’d watched it hit a tree near them, and when the storm passed, Dom had fetched her a little bit of crystalized dirt. She still wore it even now, although that was mostly because it had become her focus and – well, Thea tried to hold onto the good, even as she let go of the bad.
The memory of that storm had become her first storm orb, and she remembered standing and waiting for Dom’s reaction, the look of wonder in his eyes as he’d reached forward, slow and nervous, to touch it; Thea remembered laughing at him, promising it wouldn’t hurt, reassured once she realized how pleased he was.
Citrine was pleased too. No sourness tinged Thea’s smile; she banished the past in favor of the beauty of this moment, watching Citrine examine the little glass phoenix. Thea giggled at Citrine’s compliment, deciding that it might well be the highest praise the phoenix-woman was capable of – that something was nearly as beautiful as herself. She had felt a moment of sheer panic when Citrine dropped the statue, and then terrifyingly powerful relief when she caught it in the magical ghost hand she used so freely – and then awe, at the way the bits of fire magic seemed to endow the glass with even more beauty.
“I’m glad,” Thea was smiling, relaxing, arms dropping down to her sides. Her hair waved back and forth in its own breeze, the motion somehow cheerful. She didn't say anything else for now, happy to bask in the moment.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 15, 2019 2:33:33 GMT
"How long did et take ye tae make?" She asked, still lounging on the tabletop and, in fact, pulled herself up the rest of the way so her knees were on the surface. Swinging her knees as if lounging on the beach, large bird feet bobbing steadily back and forth Citrine returned her focus to the mage hand aloft glass bird. There was no way she would drop the figurine and shatter it, her mage hand was too precise for anything of the sort - but it had been fun to tease the glassblower with the fake drop. In fact? A hint of wax came off her wings, colored wax. Coloring crayons…
With a bit of a toss Citrine sent the statue into the air, only about a foot or so, and blew after it a series of sparks, fireflies, and shimmer out of her mouth. The magical affects enveloped the glass, making it seem now that it was rising to a precipice then falling into freefall before being swooped up again by that damned mage hand. The phoenix trilled in childish like enjoyment at sending her new keepsake into the air. What good was a bird if it couldn't fly? Flightless birds notwithstanding.
"Et truly es ah masterpiece o' artistical skill. Aye dan't think Aye'd ever the patience tae learn ah skill like this. Aye'm name 'er Solace - teh Firebird's Child." There was a tune she sang the last bit to, as if it came from a song. She looked a lazy head turn over to glance at Thea, wondering how many tosses into the air it would take to make the rather patient and mild-mannered genasi to start cracking.
Looking around the room Citrine started to observe the area around them to see where she could aim. She didn't want to send the creature into its first flight and risk actually breaking anything else around. But... there. By the front door. There were no items on display near the front door, probably so no one could bluster in and end up knocking anything over.
Citrine, having spotted the front door's open space, looked to Thea, then to her statue, back to the door, then to Thea. A devious grin lit on her face - her idea plain to see even if her wings weren't smelling like a child's playroom. Then, without looking, Citrine's mage hand spun in place then threw the extremely fragile and delicate crafted gem towards the front door. The phoenix flew. And it was beautiful. Trails of sparks and fireflies marked its first flight across the room from the main table and was sending it carenering towards the front door. It was grace and chaos - just like it's owner.
And would have hit the door, breaking into diamond dust, had Citrine not dissapeared and reappeared standing, with all three hands carefully cupped, to gently pluck the creature out of its flight path and nestle it gently to her chest - cooing to the thing as if it were her own chick she'd rescued from falling out of a nest. "Aye promise - et's safe with me." She looked up to see how Thea reacted to her antics, the fire like sparks of where she had been lounging all falling and dissipating to nothing on the table and floor, compared to her perfectly standing and cuddling the statue position she was in now - wings tucked tight to her back and leaning against the closed front door, one leg propped up to enhance the casual laid-back nonchalance she was displaying.
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 15, 2019 2:49:29 GMT
“The planning took a while,” Thea admitted, admiring her own creation quite cheerfully. “Particularly figuring out how to get that - that feeling of flame in the glass. I had a few practice rounds for that, but smaller, not the whole, er, creation. For the final version, there was a lot of preparation, getting all the glass, laying out the materials for the colors. Once I really started to sculpt it? The actual working doesn’t take that long, in truth... as long as you don’t make any mistakes!” Thea giggled. “You blow and heat and blow and heat and blow and heat - I’m not sure how long it all takes, really. It never feels like much time at all passes, when you’re in the moment.”
“Once it’s done, it cools for... half a day?” Thea grinned. “I was lucky this came out how I envisioned, I wouldn’t have had time to try again before tonight.”
Thea let out a soft squeak when Citrine tossed the statue into the air, hair rustling, trying to pass it off into a laugh when the phoenix-woman caught it, and, well, almost succeeding. She tried to relax, trusting Citrine with the creation. It was a gift, she had given it; she had to let it go, although Thea wasn’t quite she could forgive Citrine if she destroyed it intentionally.
And then Citrine hurled the statue towards the door. Thea let out a shrill, high-pitched shriek, squeezing her eyes shut. Her hair blew about wildly, dancing off her shoulders, large chunks half vertical, like a little storm of her own.
She squeezed one eye open to check and - Citrine had somehow teleported across the room, and was cradling the statue with all the tenderness of a new chick.
“It’s not really a bird!” Thea’s voice came out cracked and high-pitched. “It can’t really fly!” Her hair was still streaming wildly, and Thea reached up to it, groaning and patting futilely at it with both hands. Slowly, begrudgingly, her hair settled back down. She glared at Citrine, abandoning any pretense of the calm creator happy to pass full control to its new owner.
“You’d better,” Thea said firmly, finally, accepting Citrine’s promise. She half collapsed onto the high stool next to the table.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 18, 2019 15:21:15 GMT
You're not really a bird! You can't really reincarnate. Rain... you're being ridiculous!
"Hhrumph." The phoenix pouted like a child, looking up from her cooing to see a vexed and stormy Thea pulling her hair back down from the tempest she was stirring. "Teh Lass doesn't mean et, sprog. Dan't ye worry." She whispered in an obvious stage whisper, looking up from the glass statue to grin at the genasi. Her finger delicately ran over the wings and fire of the glass, still cocooned within three hands.
Seeing Thea collapse into her chair Citrine took pity on her teasing and relented. Walking back over from the door to the table she set the figure back on the table's center, nested in the small blanket that had covered it, the firebird stood now near Thea. "Et was ne'er en danger o' being broken - dan't be cross Lass, please? Et truly es ah precious gift, Aye plan on keepin' et fer centuries." She looked over her shoulder to glance back at the glass, still captivated, then back to Thea. "Ye really did capture teh fire nicely. Aye wonder ef ye can channel some of me own fire enta teh glass? Like ye did ye storm memory." Citrine leaned nonchalantly against the table, lapsing to silence for a moment, as if imagining what it would look like to see the statue in fire itself.
"Thank ye, Thea." She hadn't actually expressed her thanks yet. She reached over stretched a wing around to give an off-armed hug while one of her hands came up to help press the floating hair down - only possible because the taller woman was sitting down, practically sitting in her lap due to size difference so she could preen the other's hair. "Do ye knae ye start conjurin' storms when ye're stressed?" Her voice sounded like a parent evaluating whether or not their kid knew they'd been caught sneaking into a cookie jar or not - but with a vocal spin that was just… pure Citrine in the teasing, almost taunting, observation of 'I told you so'. Some of the hair was tucked behind her ear, finalized with a satisfied styling grin from Citrine.
"Aye am sorry tae 'ave tried tae push ye temper with teh glass. But aye wanted tae see ef ye'd 'ave any sorta stormy reaction when ye're upset o' startin' tae get angry." Fiddling with her thumb and forefinger the firebird continued with a shrug and moved out of Thea's personal space. "Et was most fer me own curiosity - teh opportunity fer a test like tha' tae good tae pass up. But Aye promise, nae more tricks like tha' fer nae. But ye glass es what ye care about, an' teh only thing Aye knae o' right nae tha' would 'ave sparked ah reaction."
Hoisting herself up onto the table, tail feathers swept to the side like a lady's dress and knees crossed with talons curled into light fists so as to not scratch anything, Citrine bird-tilted her head towards Thea again as the focus of her attention. "Have ye thought much about ye gifts Lass, since teh storm? An… what Aye offered en teh cave?" She jumped right into it, bypassing the social niceties of small talk beforehand.[/font]
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 18, 2019 15:58:29 GMT
Thea turned to look at the bird when Citrine set it down, leaving aside the fussing with her hair to check that the glass statue really was unharmed. It clearly hadn’t shattered, but little hairline fractures were a possibility; once they began, over time, they would inevitably grow until the glass really did break.
But - she saw none. The surface of the glass was as smooth as ever, no new crevices or spots with an unexplained sparkle.
Citrine asked if she could put fire in an orb, and Thea just stared at her, overwhelmed and vaguely exhausted by the request. This was not the time - she had worked hard this last week, very hard, and the thought of taking on another new project was almost miserable, at least for tonight. She thought maybe Citrine could tell, because the Phoenix woman came over, hugging Thea, thanking her, and almost preening her hair, coaxing the last of the grumpy white strands into place.
Citrine asked if she was aware that the breeze ruffling her hair got stormlike when Thea was stressed, and Thea wrinkled her nose at Citrine. Of course she was - what lady wouldn’t be? Thea’s hair had always had a tendency to blow about, and that had always been stronger when she got upset. As a little girl it had been an enormous source of tension with Maude - her nurse - who seemed to feel that Thea rustled her hair out of Maude’s neat braids out of sheer perversity.
Had it gotten stronger - changed - since she became a sorcerer? Thea shifted on her stool, not liking the thought at all. She listened, still silent, to Citrine’s explanation.
Citrine was taller than her while sitting on the table and slowly, slowly Thea looked up at her. Had she thought about it? Her hasty promise in the cave to meet Citrine again in ten days, her hasty promise to let Citrine help her... find her spark. If she even had one. Thea was vaguely aware that she was trembling, and she tucked her hands into her lap and dropped her gaze, the eye contact a little too intense.
“I - I’ve thought about it,” Thea said, cautiously.
The time they’d spent in the cave felt almost like a dream now. Thea almost wasn’t sure when exactly she’d fallen asleep. At least, that was what she hoped for. Maybe most of it had been a dream? Maybe her spilling of the most personal parts of her soul to a near stranger had been a dream too? The cool, clean relief she’d felt at the time was long gone, replaced by a lingering sense of embarrassment.
Thea got up from the stool, suddenly unable to remain sitting, and took a few steps away, prodding at a container of color rods on a nearby shelf as though it was absolutely life or death that the box move a half inch further from the edge of the shelf. After a moment she just picked the box up, turning it over in her hands. She couldn’t help herself, though, and glanced back at Citrine, turning half back, the box like a shield between them.
The main problem was that Thea didn’t want to disappoint Citrine either. She felt utterly trapped; she didn’t see any point in going ahead with this... charade, this idea that there was something more for her in magic than reluctant acceptance, but neither did she want to just send Citrine away.
“I just - I don’t see how anything will help.” Thea mumbled, finding herself unable to meet Citrine’s eyes again. She set the box back down.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 18, 2019 18:26:13 GMT
Citrine remained sitting where she perched the whole time Thea busied herself with anything and everything that wasn't the topic on hand. Though she didn't look it, the phoenix was worried and nervous as well. A slight perfume of a thunderstorm dumping its steady rain with no end in sight hung around her, the clean yet obscure scent floating off her wings.
It still made no sense to her… how could a sorcerer, or any magic user, really, not want to embrace their gifts? Magic was as life giving as the dawn itself, a power so intricately woven into the blood and spirit there was just no way it couldn't be used. But… here was Thea, someone who'd had the gift now a number of years (if her calculations of time passing and piecing together of the abridged history was good enough) who barely used more than a cantrip in a month's time. Compared to her own magic use - at least 12 different twists and turns of spellwork before she got out of her bedroom - it was like being told she could only eat with one chopstick. It was improbably impossible.
There were times when pretended ignorance was best. Acting as if someone hadn't just said something out loud they thought they'd spoken in their head. A stupid idea that wasn't worth repeating. Drunken decisions that simply 'erased' themselves from the mind upon waking up and searching for clothing. Ignoring those events and more often lead to a better feeling of relief for everyone involved.
But their time in the cave was not such an event.
"Aye can… perhaps see, how hopeless an' strange teh situation might be." Her wings turned to mix steam into the smell, impressions of uncertainty wafting into the room. Clearly Citrine wasn't in her element of full confidence here either. "Et's hard, Aye'll admit, tae wrap me head around teh fact ye're…. Perhaps… meebe nae… against magic, but at least as afriad o' sensitive about et. Aye've ne'er been…" She trailed off, wondering how to phrase it without being too insulting. "Aye've never encountered teh hesitance ye seem tae have." She shrugged her shoulders with open hands. "Aye always embraced magic o' all types, from all schools, an' all sources. What works fer me es prolly nae gonna work fer ye." She was rambling now, but that's what she did best - she talked.
"But! Ye won't get better with tha' sorta attitude though." She pointed out towards the rather bleak statement Thea had made. "Ye're lookin' at magic as tae much on ah whole Aye think. Which might be part o' ye reluctance. Teh gift isn't gonna go away, Lass, et's 'ere, et's ah part o' ye." There was a way, a kree in her head pointed out, that the magic could go away, but she shushed that part of her mind with a clear mental snap. "Ye'll 'ave tae do somethin' with et, before et overwhelms ye. Aye'd hate tae see ye end up destroyin' yeself - or others- because o' ah buildup o' magic thrashin' about."
She adjusted in her spot, bringing her legs up to fold under hear in a lotus position, and her wings spread a bit to help keep her balanced. "Aye've spent teh better part o' teh last tenday reading." She began to become a bit more animated as she dove into some of the ideas she'd been brainstorming. "Me old journals, records o' who've Aye encountered, what they've done, how they've done et. Aye'd even slogged though teh dry as bones scrolls 'Olly sent with me, readin' up on teh hows and whys o' magic en hopes o' finding somethin' tha' might help ye move past ye hesitance."
She grinned now, as her voice pitched higher the more excited she got. "An ye knae what Aye read tha' will 'elp?!" She lingered. "Nathing." She preened a moment, as if it was the best news ever, and that she hadn't wasted away at her desk for -hours- only to come up with nothing helpful.
"Because teh way tha'll 'elp ye, Thea, es somethin' tha' naeone else can dae. What worked fer someone else esn't gonna work fer ye. Fer ye tae accept this side o' yeself ye ain't comfortable with, ye'll need tae find ah way tae make yeself excited about magic. Connect et tae somethin' ye love. Right nae? Ye associate et all with loss, sadness." Her voice dipped a bit, losing some of the bounce due to the seriousness of the topic. "Et's part o' why Aye was curious ef another emotion could stir ye winds. Aye tried anger, honestly, 'cause tha's where Aye had me powers born from. Et's what Aye'm familiar with. But Aye don't think tha' suits ye. An' sadness - et's…. Et's nae teh most potent o' spellcastin' emotion. Et just… smothers et… ef ye can' somehow twist et tae motivate ye."
Catching her breath, Citrine twisted around, picking up a wing to not knock it over, to pick up the glass statue again - holding it up towards the much more magically introverted woman across the room from her. "But this! This art es what makes ye blood sing!" There was no way Thea would be able to deny that at least. "Ye do anythin' fer ye talent. Aye dan't need tae knae ye fer long tae know that as ah fact about ye. Sae… what ef ye started tae view ye magic en teh light o' ye glass? Sae how ye can protect ye glass, shape et, sing tae et?"
The statue Citrine sent to drift lazily in the air, to let it hover in the orange sparks of her mage hand between the two - the magic fireflies setting the bird alive.
"Ef ye can use ye magic tae better ye skill with ye glass - would ye want tae? Magic fer teh sake o' using magic esn't what sings en ye blood, like mine does. Ye dan't want ye magic for power. But ye glass - could ye accept teh shadowed part o' ye spirit, ef et means doin' et fer ye art?" Tapping into the emotions that Thea no doubt experienced when glassblowing was no doubt, to Citrine, the key to unlocking her spellcasting potential. But nothing would work if Thea wasn't open to the idea, of looking at her glassblowing and seeing how her natural affinity for wind and gale could combine with the gifted magic in her blood.
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 18, 2019 18:56:29 GMT
It was warm in the studio; Thea didn’t work glass in the front room, but the big furnaces in the one behind it kept everything comfortable inside during winter. In summer it would be sweltering; at home, Thea had always thrown all the windows open in the hope that a breeze would cut brought the hot, muggy haze.
Thanks to the warmth, Thea was wearing less than usual, a tunic and baggy tights, leaving her slim, muscular arms bare, although the rest of her was well-covered. Suddenly though, Thea wished she’d worn a thick sweater and a cloak; the memory of the cold of the cave seemed to seep into her bones. Thea clenched her jaw a little, afraid her teeth might start chattering at any moment.
Citrine has been working for her - working to figure out how to help her. Thea felt an aching, sickly guilt roiling deep in her stomach, her hair almost entirely still now, with just the occasional faint rustle, as if the wind was waiting to be called up again. As hard as it was, she kept her gaze on the phoenix woman, trying to respect the effort that Citrine had put in for her, trying at least to be open to things changing, although she couldn’t imagine how.
Citrine asked if Thea knew what she’d read that would help, and Thea shook her head, waiting, feeling a faint surge of hope - and then Citrine dropped her bombshell. Nothing.
For a moment Thea felt - angry. Didn’t Citrine understand how much work it had taken to get here? It wasn’t as if she had just ignored her magic, hoping it would go away. Well - she had. For a long time, she had. But for the last few years, it hadn’t been like that. Thea had practiced, had studied, had gotten to where she could control it, instead of the magic controlling her. And that had taken work, a good deal of work and patience and acceptance. She had tried!
Sadness. Thea felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes and clamped them shut, refusing to cry. The worst part was that Citrine was right; she was right, and it hurt. Glassblowing made her feel joy, and magic made her feel - sad.
But the storm orbs? Citrine was right about that too, blast her - Thea didn’t fear the magic she’d used to make those. They were beautiful; they made her sing inside. She had never felt that they were tainted by her past, even if they contained a drop of the storm inside her; it was if the glassblowing process purified it somehow.
“I -“ Thea worried at her lower lip. It was a bad habit; she had tried to break it for years, hating the cracked lips it left her with, the little bumps and groves. “I mean, I have. You know I have.” She shifted a little, slowly drawing closer to the table. She wasn’t quite ready to sit again, but she came a good foot closer to Citrine, leaving the shelf behind.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 18, 2019 19:32:56 GMT
As much as Citrine wanted to go over and try to sooth the pain and sadness Thea was clearly experiencing, she stayed put on top of the table - figuring still hovering in the air via her mage hand. She'd learned, over and over again, the hard way, that you couldn't force people to want to better themselves - particularly if her opinion of what would make them better wasn't agreed by the other. It was hard, trying to convince someone else to see the benefit of looking at things in a better light. A positive light. That they didn't need to wrap the wet blanket of fear, depression, and sadness around them and let themselves be hurt by their own self-doubt.
"Aye knae relatively very little, Lass." Citrine softly corrected, her breath quiet in the room. The heat didn't bother her, in fact, she barely noticed that the room might have been considered 'too warm' for most people. "Aye knae ye survived ah wreck at sea, an' ye're afraid o' teh storms that live in ye blood. Aye knae ye can do wonders with glass. Aye believe ye think ye've been tryin' tae embrace et, but somethin' es still holdin' ye back."
The phoenix looked at Thea, carefully, and softly, like she was searching for the answers herself so she wouldn't have to speak out loud her own doubts. But she wasn't a mind reader. Thea took a step forward, and she considered that a right grand success. Perhaps it was the instinctual urge she felt to try to comfort and soothe those around her, either through song or coos. Through touch or, and only in the gravest of situations, prove the myths right that a phoenix's tears could in fact heal. But Citrine considered Thea one of her… not projects. Projects assumed that there was a start and end to it - that it was ultimately something that would be set aside to move to something new. But friends. Real friends. Friends that eventually became family. Being stuck in a cave had given their friendship an atypical start, that was for sure. She wanted to help.
"What would help ye teh most Thea. What's holding ye back?" She asked, head tilting a little bit to the side. "Aye truly dan't wish tae force ye tae do anythin'. Ef ye want tae sae no, right 'ere, right nae? Ye can - an' Aye won't bring et up e'er again. We can just spend teh evenin' learnin' more about each other, perhaps over drinks, an' 'ave a pleasant evening." She hoped though that Thea wouldn't take the easy out wouldn't cave to the chance to side step this (in Citrine's opinion) gigantic personal problem. "But, Aye hope ye can summon teh personal strength tae confront this. We'd start small, o' course. Ave'ye ne'er really been ah teacher - Aye'm too unfocused. But aye can promise et wouldn't be anythin' like what they teach en teh towers! Et'll be focused on ye, ye strengths, ye goals. Aye dan't want tae see ye wind die, Thea. Et wouldn't even be everyday - et'd fit ye schedule."
She trilled a little song in the back of her throat, a subconscious thing that she couldn't control, in hopes of keeping a soothing calm atmosphere. "Really - et'll probably end up with me tryin' somethin' stupid tha'll ye'll yell at me fer before thankin' me en the long run." She grinned at the self-ribbing. Yes, the stunt with the figurine wouldn't be the end of her practical jokes, tricks, or attempts at lightening the mood to keep the mood upbeat. It was just who she was. "Sae, ye'll 'ave tae be able tae put up with me as well, nae just me attemps at playin' teacher."
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 18, 2019 19:56:23 GMT
Citrine didn’t let her get away with the evasion. Thea froze again, not coming any closer. What was holding her back? Nothing - there was nothing holding her back.
The anger swelled back up and Thea gritted her teeth again, suddenly no longer cold. Why did Citrine need to fit Thea in her own mold so badly? There was nothing holding her back, nothing wrong, nothing lacking. She didn’t need this - this interference! She was fine. She had accepted her powers and she was fine with them. She didn’t need someone telling her what to do, how to be.
Something wild was brewing in her chest and tousling her hair and for a moment Thea wanted to - winds and lightning were bad for glass and bad for materials, and so Thea choked the power down, pulling it inside and letting it fizz under her skin, churning in her chest.
And if Citrine was so unnecessary, why had Thea accepted her offer?
Thea swallowed, hard, the anger and the storm draining of her and leaving a hollow blankness behind, a jittery sense of repressed energy. Citrine was still talking and Thea looked back up at her, Citrine’s chirpy, melodic voice flowing over her.
“I don’t know what’s holding me back,” Thea was aware of and made utterly by the teary raspiness in her voice. She held there for a moment, summoning her courage. “... but I’d like to find out.”
Thea felt exhausted, again, arms and legs like leaden weights, and sank back down onto the stool next to Citrine. She was shivering again, flushed and at the same time feeling goosebumps rippling over her skin, the exertion of holding her magical temper tantrum worse than she’d expected.
Thea propped her elbows on the table and cradled her face in her hands, clammy to her own touch. After a moment she looked up again, mustering her courage once more. “I’d -“ Thea’s voice cracked. “I’d appreciate your help, Rain. Whatever jokes you need to play.”
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 18, 2019 20:39:41 GMT
She could smell the anger like warning smoke from a wildfire. The stirring of a tempers and race in the blood, she could smell it, and with it? Citrine's eyes took a sheen of personal enjoyment in managing to spark the emotion she was so tied to in another. For all her love of fun, Citrine lived for anger as well. Tempers. Yelling. Even coming to blows - either magical or physical. The passion and heat that came with it? It, quite literally, fueled her own personal fire. Her raptor eyes looked like they were reflecting a furnace, matching Thea's tousled hair with near bated breath.
But then the anger died, and with it, the fire in her eyes smothering to neutral.
It wasn't gone though, not completely, the power stirred by her anger. Thea looked like she was holding back tears again at this point, and were her arms shaking? Citrine stayed quiet, watching her, as she opened up enough to admit she didn't know what was holding her back, would accept her help, and even put up with her antics.
Citrine grinned like the Cheshire cat, seen by Thea by the time she looked up from her elbow lean on the table. Her hybrid bird face was close to Thea's, the genasi able to see the small skin-shade feathers that grew at the scalp before they turned red and copper. Citrine reached out and gently took both of Thea's hands in her own, nesting them together so both her hands were enclosed over Thea's, and gave them a comforting squeeze. When all four hands were layered, however, the smell of colored wax spread quickly and unmistakable this close together. "Then - catch." She quipped, pulling the topmost hand away to snap her physical fingers in between their faces. The mage hand that had been holding the glass figuring? It disappeared, turning to smoke and then nothing at all.
For a moment the sculpture held itself in the air, almost defiant in its own way, much like its owner, and hung in the air without support. But… Thea had been right. It wasn't a real bird. It was glass. And glass was just as much a slave to gravity as everything else. It fell, catching the light of the room with a twinkle and shine, from where Citrine had moved it higher above the table. If Thea tried to tug her hands away? Citrine wouldn't let go. At the core of each and every sorcerers she'd known - herself included - their magic was wild, chaotic, sure... but it was also instinctual, reacting at the user's intent and will. Thea, Citrine theorized, was much too caught up in overthinking the reason she held herself back. The phoenix was watching the figure drop to the ground as it came closer and closer to shattering on the ground.
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 18, 2019 21:10:45 GMT
Citrine took Thea’s hands in hers, squeezing gently. Thea managed a pale shadow of a smile, the normally cheerful and bright genasi still muted, although the goosebumps and shivers were starting to fade.
Thea hadn’t yet learned much about how the smells coming from Citrine’s wings telegraphed her behavior; she hadn’t started consciously associating them yet. That meant then when the smell of wax picked up, all Thea was aware of was a creeping sense of unease, with little idea why.
Then -
Thea shrieked, trying to pull away from Citrine’s death grip on her hands, but there wasn’t time, and Citrine was staring at her, and all Citrine’s promises to cherish the statue aside, Thea couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t let it smash to teach Thea some kind of lesson about magic and glass.
To smash it! All that work, the effort and sweat and blood, gone in an instant because Thea couldn’t get over her magical hang ups. These thoughts and more passed through her mind in half an instant, fueled by an monstrous surge of adrenaline.
And in that moment of sheer panic - Thea reached, not with her hands but with something inside her, just reached. A gust of wind swirled beneath the statue, silvery and visible in the air, cradling the glass and lowering it, slowing its momentum until, as delicate as a hand, the wind set the statue down on the table with barely even a sound, and dissipated back into nothingness.
“You - “ Thea gasped, turning her gaze back to Citrine. “How could -“ Thea paused, her thoughts catching the rest of the way up to the present. “I...” she turned back to the statue, slowly relaxing. “I didn’t know I could do that,” she turned back to Citrine, eyes widening slowly. “You definitely didn’t know I could do that! What - what were you thinking?”
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 18, 2019 21:27:42 GMT
The most proud and preening expression was plastered all over Citrine's face, body language, and wings - the whiskey barrel smell as subtle as her peacocking. The faintest of orange had started to collect at the point of impact but were swept away by the silver wind that reached to cradle the statue.
"Nae. Aye didn't." She crowed, quite pleased with Thea's emergence of her very own mage hand. "Aye had nae idea what would 'appen, o' even ef ye had teh affinity fer ah mage hand. O' ef ye'd end up freezin, an Aye'd 'ave tae catch Solace at teh very last moment. As fer what Aye was thinking?" She squeezed Thea's hands again, the third mage hand joining the pile before she released her hands. "Aye wasn't. Tha's me secret, Thea. Aye ne'er think. Aye just do."
The smug self-satisfied look throughout her entire body still hadn't faded even as she leaned back to prop her weight up and pull a knee up, still sitting on top of the table. "Et's me favorite spell effect - mage hand. Aye was hopin' ye'd 'ave et. Quite teh useful bugger. Aye've even tried tae summon ah second one at teh same time - can ye imagine!" Her eyes lit up again. "Two mage hands! Oi - what Aye could dae with four hands…" Somewhere, probably a collection of someones, shuddered at the thought of the extroverted redhead having four hands. Seven year olds didn't need four hands.
"Aye bet if ye practice with et, ye might be able tae sculpt with et. Teh winds pushin an' pullin' on teh glass? Imagine teh detail ye could do!" Her toes curled as she stretched out on the table top. "But at teh very least? Ye knae ye can catch things tha' fall nae." She lifted her head so she could look at the still flabergasted Thea. "Saeeeee......." She drawled. "Hae did et feel?"
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