Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 27, 2019 18:14:09 GMT
m_7gesYl1d20+41d20+4
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 27, 2019 18:35:07 GMT
"How dare you!"
Oh me fooking, Goddess, yes.
The air around her frizzled and snapped, and suddenly? All her feathers were sticking up on end, sparks shocking down her limbs, searing against her skin, and sending an ache through her very hollow bones. Her hearing was gone, shattered, funny enough, but that didn't deter the firebird. Kreeing back in a warcry that she could barely hear herself, Citrine flared her wings and rose into the sky about 20 feet, hovering, wings beating in place and sending the remaining sparks off of them.
There was pain, yes. Her limbs felt stiff and the skin tightened from the electrical burns that had trailed around her and she still couldn't hear anything. But she didn't care. Her blood was singing. Yes! Wildly, Citrine stared down Thea with a mix of chaotic thrill and almost motherly pride. The storm was rolling in faster now, the winds picking up as a light rain began to pour around.
"Ye sure about what ye sayin' Lass? Ye've told me plenty ov'er teh months… ye can barely lift ah mage hand, ye regrets keepin' ye down." It was weird not being able to hear yourself, overcompensating by shouting and perhaps sounding angry than she intended. But really? She was ecstatic! What was a little bit of spell slinging between friends? Thea would feel horrible about hitting her, later, but until then? The phoenix wanted to see how close to the line she could get... see how many more spells she could coax out of the storm sorceress.
Her wings lit with the purple shimmer of magical phoenix fire, the crackling, sparking magical flame persisting even in the rain. Ironic, her pendent for fire, that she was nicknamed Rain of all things. But for a being infused with fire she had no problem 'dancing' in the downpour. With a snap of her wings a bolt of fire was volleyed towards Thea - targeting the wooden crate next to her rather than Thea herself. -sending the wood alight. Thea would have reason and excuse in her spell fire towards Citrine, the same couldn't be said to her. Really she still felt horrid, despite the results, taunting Thea with words she knew would hurt the most. But it would be worth it… she hoped.
((Beat the DC, take half damage of 13 rounded down: 21/27 HP)) ((Cantrip firebolt used, no damage or save needed by Thea))
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 27, 2019 18:57:07 GMT
The wind whipped up around them, tossing the rain about. Citrine seemed to almost shake the spell off, leaping up off the ground, wings beating as she stared down at Thea, shouting down at her.
Thea could feel the storm rolling under her skin, lightning crackling in her veins. She gritted her teeth, ready to swallow it like she usually did, to smother it into nothingness.
A bolt of fire lunged from the sky, feeling like it just missed Thea.
The storm in her veins surged and Thea let go. Gusts of winds burst out of the stormy air around her, swirling beneath Thea and lifting her up into the air. The blue fabric of her tunic and pants flapped in the stormy winds; her hair swirled out around her head like a halo, streaming wildly.
From this height Thea could look directly at Citrine, no longer afraid - just angry. She didn’t say anything; it felt like there was nothing to say. The spell she’d let off had bled off her anger for no more than a moment; there was still plenty of heat inside her.
Thea snapped out her arm, pointing at Citrine, and a massive thunderbolt arced from her hand, reaching for the phoenix. Thea focused all her energy on the spell, pouring her anger into it in a continuous flow.
((Thea uses tempestuous magic followed by witch bolt!))
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 27, 2019 18:59:26 GMT
Attack roll: [roll=1d20+5]
If it succeeds, lightning damage: [roll=1d12]
((Edit: Mobile is weird))
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 27, 2019 19:00:55 GMT
Because mobile rolling hates Mortal:
Attack roll: uNrytDgm1d20+5
If it succeeds, lightning damage: 1d121d20+5·1d12
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 27, 2019 19:01:46 GMT
Whelp AY3MXNNx1d121d12
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 27, 2019 19:22:34 GMT
A leash of lightning cracked from Thea's pointed arm, lashing and strangling around Citrine. Energy not her own pulsed through her, and the phoenix dropped ten feet of height, momentarily stunned from the lightning being forced through her body. She barely caught herself from plummeting hard to the ground, really, only doing so because the lightning that now literally tied her to Thea held part of her aloft. Her wings lost their fire, and even their color, fading to something that only had a shimmer of red and copper within them. Her only thought?
-Oh fookin' 'ell-
Her feet were clenched, refusing to release, same with her fingers. Her skin was like leather being stretched across her body due to the tenseness she was holding herself. She couldn't even misty step out of the spell effect - the lightning was attached to her like salt on a lime, whiskey in a jar, Citrine in a situation where she didn't bother thinking things through. Funny how all those had something in common.
"Uhh… Lass? Thea?" Citrine, in a much more cowed voice coughed out. Fear now exuded off of her wings, a potent nutmeg smell that persisted even with the rain. Light from the spell effect had more color than she did. But because her ears were still ringing she wasn't sure if she'd managed to speak out loud. She used her action to search out the piece of twisted copper wire in her hair.
"Thea. Me Faodail. Ye made ye point, very potently Aye might like tae add... Aye went ah bit tae far with me words… teh line was back before Dom's name, Aye. Found et, won't cross et again. Aye promise." Her voice held all the panic she was just managing to keep stomached, the raspy, near dying tone transcending into even her mental message voice. "An' Aye dan't knae fer certain whut happen's ef Aye die en this form, an' Aye'd truly like tae nae't find out…. Ef ye might be kinder than Aye was?" The hopeful question was said in a high mental pitch of tone, the spell light illuminating the growing fear on Citrine's face. She liked living too much, way too much, just as she liked finding the line in the sand. And to have it all wiped away from this? Well…. It was poetic, in a way. Very fitting.
((HP: 2/27))
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 27, 2019 19:34:27 GMT
The lightning was flowing from her to Citrine; Thea could feel it connect, the massive bolt arching through the Phoenix woman. She could almost taste Citrine through it, a spicy smell and a feeling of wildness curling back through the spell and reaching into Thea. Perversely it only made her angrier; it was her lightning, her storm, and Citrine was affecting even that, reaching into her. The lightning fizz beneath her skin surged again, ready for Thea to renew the spell.
The wind whipped at her hair, at every inch of her. Thea was silent and still as Citrine made her plea, staring at her, arm still outstretched. In truth she hadn’t been able to hear the words Citrine spoke aloud, between thunder still ringing in her ears and the roar of the wind, the rain, and her own anger.
The mental message? That penetrated, at least, slowly sinking in.
The rain was picking up; within a few moments Thea’s hair was plastered to her head, her clothing to her skin; suddenly the wind felt cutting and cold, ripping through her rather than bolstering her.
Thea dropped her arm, breaking the spell, and half sunk, half fell to the ground, landing on her feet and immediately dropping to her hands and knees, head pointed towards the ground. Her hair tumbled forward over her head, making a heavy white curtain separating her from Citrine.
Thea began to sob, fingers digging into the wet earth, shaking.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 27, 2019 19:56:39 GMT
Citrine only breathed again when the lightning around her fizzled and faded, Thea dropping her concentration of the spell. A relieved whistle weakly chimed even as it was lost in the rain. Quickly she grounded herself, the act of keeping in the air painful. As Thea gripped the soil, so too did the phoenix, her color still dulled and faint. Red marks of where she'd taken spell fire burned into her skin were soon covered by mud as Citrine let herself go flat into the cold wet muck.
She wished the cold could numb her enough so she could ignore how hurt her friend was, much less her own physical pain. But it wasn't winter. This was spring. And even the coldest of spring days were warm when one longed for the heart of the winter court.
Spreading her wings in the mud as far as she could (painfully) stretch them the phoenix let the rain waterlog her feathers. Could she drown herself in mud? It probably wouldn't be helpful, not in the long run.
Fuck her skin hurt.
Sliding up to her knees Citrine looked the few feet over to where Thea was going through a Citrine-devised personal crisis. She'd known she was taking a dark path in insulting and really, truly, hurting someone she considered one of her best friends. She didn't think'd almost die from it of course… but neither did she really think it through to begin with that great, either.
It was like Svana all over again - a close friend hurt and crying because she, Citrine, thought she knew best, and lashed out without considering even the easiest effects of her actions. Last time that had happened, Citrine had stalked off in a temper - no chance of that happening again. In some ways she'd grown wiser… right?
The phoenix was sort of getting her hearing back by now, able to tell it was raining, thunder rumbling in the distance, branches knocking against themselves…. Thea sobbing. What should she do? Stay here and give her space? Try to explain herself? Make her way closer and envelope them both together under her wings like an umbrella?
Fook.
She was a right arse.
"Faodail." She whispered into her head, choosing to stay put for now until there was some other sign of what to do. "Et was teh only thing Aye could think o' we hadn't tried yet… an', Aye went tae far - an' fer tha' Aye do sincerely apologize…. An'…" She tried to explain herself, but realized how ridiculous it was, and let the message spell fizzle, fading before she went further. So instead she just remained kneel sitting in the rain, wings spread out, with just the occasional twitch to show how her limbs were still suffering from the severe spell damage.
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 27, 2019 20:42:32 GMT
"Don’t talk to me!" Thea’s voice was sharp and crackling back in Citrine’s mind, tinged with a little surge of anger.
In front of her, Thea shuddered, drawing further in. She pushed up, slowly rising off the ground to a kneeling position. Rain splashed at the mud caked into the front of her cloak; Thea wiped one hand on a clean side of it and pushed her hair back off of her face. She was still shaking, tears dripping from her eyes, mingling with the rain as it streaked down her face.
“Don’t talk to me, don’t come near me.” Thea spoke aloud this time, voice just audible through the rain - at least as far as she knew. “I don’t care what you were trying to do. I just - I don’t care.” Thea pushed herself the rest of the way to her feet. Her arms wrapped around herself and she looked away from Citrine, off at the rain soaking the trees.
The worst of it was that Thea could still taste the lightning, the wind swirling in her veins. It would feel so good to get a burst of it off; Thea could only imagine the sharp release of anger, the way it would burn off some of the pain and frustration deep inside her. She took a deep breath, planning to swallow it down -
And then she couldn’t; she was sick of fighting her anger, utterly sick and fed up with it, and instead of calming Thea threw her head back and screamed, winds swirling around her again.
Thea whipped around, focusing her gaze on a nearby tree; the clouds seemed to shimmer overhead, and a massive thunderbolt arced from them, slamming into the closest tree, sending sparks and branches flying into the air.
The storm overhead seemed to settle, the rain slowly to a faint drizzle that barely registered against the two of them. Thea was shivering again, but she felt surprisingly calm; she could breathe again, in and out.
“... Rain?” Thea took a few hesitant steps forward, looking down at Citrine. Her teeth began to chatter again, not cold so much as fear this time. “... are you okay?”
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 28, 2019 1:51:44 GMT
Clenching her eyes shut at the message back Citrine hunched her shoulders back, tucked her tail around her knees as best as a flowing bird tail like hers could, and focused on keeping her breathing stead. Was she breathing too fast? It didn't seem like it, not to hear at least. She -- just -- couldn't -- seem -- to -- get -- air -- fast -- enough -- in -- her -- chest. The heard that Thea spoke more, but couldn't make out the words - no matter, the tone was crystal enough.
Limbs still spamming the firebird chose to just stay where she was instead of trying to move. Resting carefully down to bend-twitch to her forearms, then let herself sink once more chest flat into the mud. If she wasn't treated soon she'd have a new system of scars on her skin from where the lightning forked across her - the red welts already rising despite the coolness of the rain. A darkness haloed at the edge of her vision, and her wings still stank of nutmeg. She didn't want to die. Was she dying? What a strange thought. Of course she wasn't dying. Orin or Holly would be here, if she were actually dying, to prevent her from doing so.
The scream into the storm rang like a tuning fork through the phoenix, and she could feel the power being channeled into the spring storm. Hear the sound of a tree splintering even through the ringing. She couldn't tell he rain had lessened after the explosion, nor that someone had come closer.
While the firebird was, in her opinion, gracefully adjusting to lying on the ground reality said otherwise. She'd wobbled, collapsing down into the muck with as much grace as a baby horse being born, and then some. Her eyes were unfocused as it seemed she couldn't find a balanced way to exist - a weird and strange thing to see this sort of poise-less drunken-like sway in someone who was, even when roaring drunk, smooth and graceful like a flowing river.
The shock was starting to set in, the brief moment of clarity she'd had before disintegrating into the stupor she was now falling into.
"Orin? Holly? Tha't ye?" She asked, in perfect clarity to her - jumbled to Thea who was actually there.
Why did her tongue feel so thick? Had she even spoken? The tremors didn't help, was she back on a ship? Could be, it was storming enough to be on the seas.
"Ye'll 'ave tae look at me list tae see what's next, an doe teh ritual prep yeself, Aye feel ah bit dizzy." Again, crystal clear to her - but no doubt slurred to near incomprehension.
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 28, 2019 2:11:47 GMT
The anger was gone now, drained out of Thea with the last lightning bolt. With it gone, Thea could think again - and her thoughts weren’t pleasant. She had nearly killed Citrine. Citrine had said things that were borderline unforgivable, even if her intent had been to help Thea, but no words gave Thea the right to kill her, no matter how nasty. No words gave Thea the right to hurt her either, however badly she had made Thea feel. Now, calm, without the storm rushing through her, Thea felt that. The first attack, Thea thought, she could forgive herself for. Citrine had taunted her, and Thea hadn’t really known what would happen with the spell; it had felt almost like the magic burst out of her, as if she hadn’t been able to control it. That lack of control was her fault, yes, but - well, she hadn’t meant it, and that at least lessened her guilt. The second time? Thea felt sick just thinking of it. She could list excuses to herself, endless excuses. It had felt like Citrine had flung a firebolt at her (now, in retrospect, Thea could tell Citrine had meant to miss; at the time, she hadn’t been remotely aware of it). The spell had been stronger than usual, the lightning bolt more powerful than she expected. Citrine had made her angry! Thea felt that that was, really, her weakest excuse. Perhaps the worst part was that Thea knew she had been - close. If Citrine hasn’t begged her to stop, Thea honestly didn’t know what she would have done, and that was the worst part of all. Thea had been angry before. She could remember being angry. But - angry enough to kill? It didn’t feel like her, and that was the scariest feeling of all. It reminded her a little of the tantrums she’d thrown in her earliest days of sorcery. She had woken casting a cantrip more than once from sleep; scary as that had been, it hadn’t been enough to force her to learn control, not on its own. Much worse had been the way anger had surged and fizzed like lightning through her blood, the way sadness had crept up like wind in her throat; she’d had to fight constantly to keep from expressing her emotions in destructive spells, spells that might hurt those around her. More than anything, Thea wanted to blame the storm in her blood. To say - it wasn’t me, it was the storm. I couldn’t control it, because it wasn’t really me. She had always thought of the process of learning control as learning to tame this - this thing which was inside her, but somehow separate. She had learned to keep it contained? But wasn’t that what she and Citrine had been talking about, for all these months? The storm was part of her. Whatever Thea had been before, the storm was part of her now, and Thea couldn’t bring herself to pretend otherwise. Would it help to own it, to bring it into herself rather than keeping it separate? Was that what Citrine had urged all along? Thea wanted to scream again, to cry, to throw things. She couldn’t; she felt utterly drained of emotion, not a drop of tears left. And, worse, the ordeal wasn’t over. Citrine was collapsed on her side in the mud, twitching faintly and babbling incoherently. Thea felt a brief surge of guilt and shame, and did her best to push it aside. She would figure out how she felt about Citrine later, and how she felt about herself. Right now, she had to figure out how to get Citrine home. “Rain?” Thea crouched down, slowly, setting a hand gently on the other woman’s arm. “... can you hear me?”
There was no more response, not even incoherent half-words; Citrine's eyes seemed to flutter shut and, if possible, she slumped further over in the dirt. The red welts raised across her skin seemed to reach directly into Thea's heart and squeeze.
Thea shut both her eyes for a long moment, wishing again that she wasn't too exhausted for tears. She took a deep breath, looking down at Citrine. They were both already absolutely covered with mud; carrying Citrine wouldn't do any more damage to her clothing. Carefully, slowly, she reached for the phoenix woman's limp, surprisingly colorless wings, sort of tucking them against Citrine's back, as gently as she could. With her wings folded up, Citrine was small, so small that it sent a pang of terror through Thea. Carefully, with spectral winds swirling against Citrine's back to help lift her, Thea picked Citrine up, bracing Citrine against her chest. She could swear Citrine curled up towards her, almost cuddling against her; even asleep, her limp hands seemed to avoid a certain spot on her chest, an odd snowflake-like scar that Thea had never noticed before.
Thea took a deep breath, fixed her gaze on a point in the horizon, and started walking. Thea hadn’t killed Citrine with lightning; she wouldn’t do it with neglect either.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 28, 2019 2:53:33 GMT
She was on something soft, smelling like the sea and smoke - her smoke. Catlike she twisted, stomach down, stretching her arms under the pillows she detected under her head. Wings extended (brilliantly dressed in all their firey shades once more), taking up a huge amount of space as they too got the pet-waking-up treatment of always stretching before moving. Her talons curled under the bedsheets, not even tangling, as her tail bumped up the comforter from underneath.
She was in her bed in the Mariners' Hall, the guildhall for ship captains, and she didn't quite remember how she got here.
Groaning from how good the stretch, goddess why was she so stiff? Citrine eventually, after taking her sweet time stretching face down in the bed, released a deep breath of air she'd inhaled and stretched upwards into a 'cobra' yoga position. Holding it, feeling inordinately pleased at the stretch she was experiencing, wings sweeping up like a sphinx to curl over her head in a large 'C'. Her back cracked in a satisfying way, wings joints too.
Releasing her breath she relaxed to sink back into the pillows…. Then froze….
What time was it?
Eyes shooting open she felt adrenaline run through her as her internal clock was already measuring the amount of light in her room. Mid-morning. She'd slept in, and hadn't woken up. She'd missed the dawn. She never missed the dawn! Even hungover as all hell, she'd never missed the dawn. And why?
Memories began to trickle in. Of teaching Thea, of a storm, of her nasty hurtful words, of thunder breaking her ears and lightning whipping her skin, of wings being tucked in and being picked up before it was just easier to give in to the creeping darkness. The Firebird would understand, he'd have to, right? It'd been a long… long… time since she'd been injured enough to sleep though the morning.
She supposed she deserved it. She had been unrelenting. Just like when she stood at the mast, a crewmen holding onto the ropes as she weighted the split cat in her hands, preparing both herself and her crew for the punishment to be set out. 10 lashes. As deemed by the Code.
But Thea wasn't one of her crew mates, she was a friend. A friend who, despite the glorious and brilliant breakthrough they'd had, hadn't deserved her tongue lashing.
Huffing into the bed, promising the Firebird she'd sing to him at high noon, she rolled over… and finally spotted Thea sitting there in one of the armchairs she had in her suite.
"……" Well, this was awkward. And Citrine didn't experience awkward nearly as much as she should.
"Erm. Moring, Thea." She was both pleased to see the genasi here, but also apprehensive. The last words she'd shouted back to her via the message spell was to not talk to her at all - she remembered that the instant she spotted Thea. Whelp.
"Fancy seeing ye 'ere this mornin'?" she wanted to get a tone for how the storm sorceress was feeling before any apologizes started.
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 28, 2019 3:11:38 GMT
It had been a long and miserable night. Thea had decided to leave at least a dozen times. The healer had promised Citrine would be fine, had sworn that between the healing and a good night of sleep, it would be basically as if nothing had happened the next day. There was, really, no reason for Thea to stay; she wasn’t doing any good by sitting a vigil in Citrine’s chair.
But every time she started to get up and go, Thea would think of how Citrine had looked – lifeless and limp, so much… so much smaller than she really was – and all she wanted was to see in person that Citrine really was her full self again. She didn’t think she could stand it if her last image was one of Citrine small and half-dead, or pale and unconscious in bed as the healer left.
So – Thea had stayed, sitting in Citrine’s chair, wrestling with feelings of anger and betrayal and self-loathing, periodically dozing off, before waking again and beginning the whole cycle over, starting with the desire to leave.
Sometime long after dark but still before light, Thea had truly fallen asleep, curled up in a little ball against the back of the armchair. Her dreams were snatches of lightning and wind, clouds floating above the ocean, swirling, storms coming and going across the deep blue sea; rather than being afraid, for once, she felt – calm.
She woke to the sound of a faint groan and a loud crack, and opened her eyes to see Citrine stretching out every inch of herself over the bed, extending her body to its absolute fullest.
Thea couldn’t help smiling; it was almost unavoidable, with the massive rush of relief through her system. Then –
Citrine turned and looked at her, eyes wide. She thought she saw – Thea wasn’t sure what she saw on Citrine’s face. Nothing she’d ever seen before.
There were a thousand things Thea could have said. A thousand things she wanted to say. She was fine. She wasn’t fine. She was sorry for what she’d done. She wasn’t sorry, Citrine was the one who should be sorry for provoking her, sorry for – for what she’d said. She was sorry. She hadn’t meant to hurt Citrine. She had meant to hurt Citrine; she wouldn’t deny that to herself any more. She had meant to do it, but she was sorry for doing it anyway. She had meant to do it, but she wasn’t sorry.
Thea said none of them.
Slowly, quietly, she uncurled herself from the chair. Her legs and arms were stiff, her neck aching; she and the healer had washed Citrine and changed her clothing, leaving her as much dignity as possible. Thea had managed to borrow a tunic and leggings from someone at the captain’s guild, and sent her own things out for washing; she had told them not to worry about the tunic if they couldn’t save it, but that she was happy to pay whatever it took for the cloak. If she was lucky, maybe it would already be back at her rooms.
All the same, aches aside, Thea did her best to stand gracefully, not limping or flinching. She held her head straight, no matter how much her neck hurt. She looked at Citrine, just looked at her, as if maybe this new memory could wipe out the sight of Citrine nearly-dead on the ground, reeling and senseless from Thea’s lightning – from Thea.
Thea swallowed, once, feeling a hard lump in her throat, then turned and made her way out of the room, slowly and deliberately, one step at a time. She kept the tears back until she was in the hallway at least, and didn’t stop then to dry them even then, letting them trickle down her cheeks as she left.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 28, 2019 4:01:56 GMT
No words met the ones she had said, Thea preferring to keep a quiet silent vigil in the chair she sat in. That was worse. Just like disappointment was worse than anger. The silence, meant any number of things.
Then she walked away.
"Nae, Thea! Dan't leave me." Her voice croaked, catching in her throat as a weird sort of bird warble more than actual words.
The worst habit Citrine had, self-acknowledged for more than a century, was that she jumped first and thought later. No matter the lives lived, experience gained, and knowledge learned - Citrine still acted from the heart than her mind.
Shoving the blankets off of her, feet only tangling slightly in the thread count, she used her wings to keep herself from falling face first onto the floor while detangling herself to try and catch up to Thea. Freed, the genasi well out of the room already, Citrine ran as fast as her lil bird legs could go to reach the doorway, holding onto the frame to look to either side to see what way she'd gone.
"Thea!" She whistled her voice so it would echo down the hallways, a tone despondent it was hard to believe it'd come from the sassy firebird.
'You've right fucked up Rain.' A voice in the back of her head instructed her bluntly. 'Oh ye fucking keep ye mouth shut, 'olly.' She huffed at the nagging voice in her head, Holly's voice.
It was a voice that had started getting more and more persistent and even more 'Holly like' since spring hit, to the point she was nearly certain her sister was actually speaking to her from another realm. She didn't question it, and talked to it as if it was really her. When in reality? There was a chance Citrine Redbriar had finally gone mad from the nagging in the back of her head that demanded she stay in Waterdeep. And at times like this? When she could think of nothing else but perhaps it was her time to leave the city -she'd done enough damage- Holly's voice snapped at her.
'You are to stay here and fix what you have broken - smartly I might add - otherwise my spell would have been for nothing.' 'Ye self-centered arse, ye fucked up ye spell.' 'Look in a mirror, Rain, I am not the only one who is a self-centered arse.' '-snort- Ye said arse.'
It was a petty victory in the last place she was currently stranded in.
Decision made, not caring at her state of undress consisting of just a long night shirt someone… probably Thea… had picked out for her, and neither caring for what fire she might be jumping in - Citrine ran to the banister and vaulted over the railing to plummet down the three floors to the bottom of the Hall. Whichever way Thea had gone? There was still only one main exit she could go through, and Citrine intended on beating her there.
Shocking some of the residents and staff as she superhero landed on the main floor Citrine gave them no heed except to chase after her Faodail. Her muscles rejected her quick movements, but she would soak them in a tub later. This was more important. Quickly moving from the resident area to the front of the Hall Citrine hoped she wasn't too late to intersect with Thea….
There she was.
Fists clenching in having no idea what sort of anything would happen, she misty stepped from where she had been keeping an eye on the front doors, and appeared out of thin air in front of the genasi.
"Faodail, plesase, just 'ear me out, aye? Aye understan', easily, ye're right tossed at me. Aye get et, deserve et even. Aye was ah right devil, an' Aye'm sorry Aye went as far as Aye did. Just… please, let me knae when ye'd like tae talk?" Her hands fidgeted together, her wings smelling like burning nutmeg and the thunder of a rainstorm - the latter Thea would most likely recognize as having been a scent associated with the firebird before, but the burning nutmeg? It was a rare one. "Aye'd like tae still be part o' ye life, an' work through this."
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