Thundersnow [Social | Closed - Citrine]

"Sae, et's be ruined then. The negligence an' disinterest en et destroys teh material." It was as she'd guessed, from the few exhibits she'd seen in glassblowing - always fun at festivals. The artisans always worked quick, fast, and nimbly. The puppies, not being sung to, began to fade even more - about 75% there.

"Think o' ye magic like glass then." She latched onto the topic example that seemed to make the most sense to Thea. "Ef ye just let et sit there? Et'll get all…." She gestured uncertainty, hand looking a bit drunk. "Icky." Brilliant example. Clearly, a prime description worthy of nobles and kings.

She then cocked her head a bit to the side, a curious look on her face. "How often dae ye use ye magic, Lass? Aye knae ye must use some, since ye made teh glass orb." She also figured she used passive magic in her glassblowing - but that could also be an air genasi thing as well. She'd never been a genasi - though she'd wanted to be. Fire, of course, but she felt like she got the taste of the flame by being a phoenix and would be satisfied for several centuries until the fire bug came back to her.

Her fingerers tightened as her chest ached inward - a little puff of sound that may or may not have been a squeak slipped out of Citrine. A sorcerer who didn't use their magic. The thought was so strange and unintuitive to the heavy magic user that she was stuck breathless. Another squeak was her only word, her raptor eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. It wasn't that she was trying to be rude, Goddess no, but… but… it just… did not compute. The color in her wings and feathers dimmed lightly at the shock, the strangeness of the situation overpowering even her passive energy that kept her bright and cheerful.

A caster who didn't use magic. It was like a fighter who didn't use weapons… a…. A Holly without her books. A firebird without her fire. It just… wasn't natural - at least, not natural to how Citrine saw the world. Not healthy. And not just any caster, but a gifted caster. She'd known of new users who didn't quite know they had magic. She'd known casters who just weren't good at magic. But to just… not use it?

She tried a third time to ask the question dancing at the tip of her tongue, but yet again an inaudible babble of surprise came out. Closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, Citrine took a moment to let the complication settle. Meditation - it'd taken her decades to finally get the real hang of it.

"Alright." She said after a few uncomfortable minutes of her retreating within herself to understand the strange concept, and to think of possible outcomes and responses she could give. Eyes opening she gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile to the clearly uncomfortable genasi. "Thea, Aye've knae idea how ye do et, nae use magic. Et's… sae foreign tae me, Aye'm sorry ef Aye seem rude." She wanted to keep their growing friendship going, not shatter at the first complication. "Aye'm takin' ah wild guess en teh dark tha' ye glassblowin' doesn't follow teh same fate, aye?" She asked without really needing an answer. Her beautiful pieces, from the simple steins to ornate kraken through the spellbinding storm orb was proof of that.

Running both hands through her crest feathers, massaging lightly her scalp as she passed through, Citrine floundered at what to do next. It never occurred to her that this wasn't her problem, or, the opposite - that this wasn't her business to stick her nose into. For her? She saw a crippled caster who was afraid of their magic, and she wanted to help her. But help was only good if it was wanted. "Dae…. Dae ye…o' shall Aye say ruther, would ye like 'elp en, literally, getting' ye spark back?" She asked, hands settled behind her neck, as if letting them stay in her lap would cause more stress of anxiety for the both of them. "Ye've clearly managed tae be fine until knae, but Lass…. Thea… ye've got me concerned fer ye knae. Aye knae we just met, but still." She gestured with her elbows, hands still locked. It was hard to try to verbalize just how much she felt…. Not required, to help, but to… help guide or act as a sort of beacon to try and tempt the storm survivor to live beyond the masterful work of her glass.

"Ye can think about et. En fact, Aye dan't want an answer nae. We'll set this aside, teh w'ole topic o' using magic, an move tae somethin' else. Aye'll come visit ye after hours tenday ferm nae and we can bring et up again, aye?" She offered the compromise with a nervous about mucking this up sort of smile. It'd been one thing to jokingly start into 'lessons' - but that was before she knew just how severe the situation was. Citrine liked to play, joke, and make light of things, sure, but could respect limits. It was all about finding that line in the sand.

A rising whistle sang the fire brighter, there was still time before she had to recharge it with a bolt - but she could make it warmer in the meantime. She'd be damned to the Seawraith for a hundred years if she was going to let someone freeze on her watch. The storm was still angerly throwing its fits across the cliff side, no hope of it giving up anytime soon.

It seemed the opportunity for a serious discussion on magic and bloodlines and sirens had been a good call - Thea took to the chance like a drowning sailor does a raft. Citrine watched as she stood and began to pace, her shadow dancing along the cave wall, something the phoenix watched as something new to look at and observe. She really hadn't spent much time with genasi before, but the storm soul she sensed in her reminded her of someone else who had a heavy power within her. It was a comfort, of sorts, to simply bask in this feeling of forced nostalgia.

Finding the cave quite warm, even with the wind sneaking through the entrance they'd both squeezed through, Citrine stretched out and took over a good portion of the floor on the non-pacing side of the fire. Fully extended, legs behind her, wings settling down lazily where they'd fit in the small room, meaning, there were feathers all over her side of the cave now at this point - 12 feet of wings had to go somewhere. And her head was propped up by her palm.

Citrine matched Thea's grin. "Aye - Aye 'ave. Bigger was bigger than ah bear, nothing close tae teh tales o' creatures bigger than ships… though ets' nae tae sae Aye've nae't encountered those fellas either." She preened a bit at the personal question, asked because of their conversation before. She always enjoyed it when people remembered things she'd told them before.

"But teh one who inspired me tattoo?" She tapped at her hip with the tip of her wing, using it as if an additional appendage. "Jus' ah bugger named Blackwarn." Closing her eyes, for fond memories this time instead of to calm her heart palpitations, she shifted from lying on her stomach to tuck and rolling to be on her back. Her wings now stretched out to the side and curled up the face of the cave wall (nearest the wall) while the other bent at the elbow and mimicked the bend arm tucked behind her head - and stretched above her head. The other free hand? Was now pointing into the air and being used to draw pictures and create little magic effects to illustrate her story.

"Blackwarn es one o' teh favored servants o' teh Pirate Queen Besmara, ye see. Ah deity en her own right, from the plane 'o existence Aye'm originally from. She's grand, Besmara, an' Aye honor er by trying tae flatter her best points an' personality." A pirate goddess - it was clear where Citrine's role models came from now. "Aye worked with her quite ah bit, during me time bound tae her 'sibling' of sorts, Gozreh. A'undred years, me soul was his - sailin' teh sea known as Teh Shackles en his name - bein' his sword an' vengence." Symbols of a black pirate flag, white skull and crossbones across the expanse, followed by a bright green leaf dripping water - easily assumed as deity symbols - followed by an intricate large gold coin medallion with strange symbols on it, and what looked like a simple map of a coastline… no coastline ever known here in Faerun, were all made real by illustrations in Citrine's magic glowing faintly orange at the edges.

"Aye'd run enta ah bit o' trouble ye see, miscalculated ah bit, didn't think teh targeted ship was prepared tae take on death from above. As much as Gozreh was 'lending me her strength o' teh sea? Teh devil Aye was after had been prepared. Dropped me solid enta teh waves with tha' enchanted net o' his." She growled and illustrated her point this time by spitting off to the side. It was clear whoever this 'devil' was? He was not on Citrine's good side.

"Me rapier was lost, me pistols loose, and me hat knocked clear off me head." Illustrations now showed a simplified version of what must have been Citrine - a winged orange haired birdfolk woman - being snatched mid-air assault by nets, affects scattering, as all fall into the sea. "Right pissed, Aye'd let me emotions cloud me judgement and had flown right en. But anyways, Aye was tumblin' enta teh sea, twas all chopping an' black ferm 'ow angry Aye was going enta teh siege, an' couldn't tell what was goin' on around me. Took me ages tae settle tae teh bottom o' teh sea - net enchanted tae act as ah sort o' anti-magic enclosure." She refused to call it a birdcage, on principle.

"Then, this big lil' bugger shows up! Tentacles squirmin, holding all me affects an' lookin' at me like Aye twas teh most stupid lil' bird et's ever seen…. He wasn't wrong, tae be fair…." She chuckled, now drawing out a caged Citrine and a bear sized octopus dwarfing the orange, holding small little child-like looking pistols and sword and hat. "Et seemed Aye 'ad more than one deity's blessin en me target. Which was ah right grand thin', considerin' Aye wasn't stoppin' me attack anytime soon. He reaches in, grabbing me by teh hip - lil' suckers just grabbin on like crazy, while the others slip in ta rip teh net ta shreds. Hands me me weapons, then tips me with me own hat! Bugger takes his leave without much ado about anything else except ta slap me like a lash against me hip an' leg. Cheeky sprog. But me hat was ah small price tae pay tae just be rollin' on teh sea floor. Sae Aye popped up above, drenched tae teh bone with sea-floor grime all over me, but grinnin like ah mad hatter."

The illustrations matched the story, ending with a rather quasi-real looking still image of Citrine, hovering like an avenging angel in the air, but looking older than she did now - crest feathers larger and more ornate even through the grime, wings larger and brighter, taloned feet more wicked and jagged, and a look to her eyes that had a targeted bloodlust within them. But no hat.

The real life Citrine turned her head to look up at Thea, wondering how she'd take her story - fact, fiction, or a bit of both. Near everyone assumed her stories were simply stories, and when that happened she laughed along with them, making no fuss. "Sae Aye tattoo'ed ol' Blackwarn on me hip where he scarred me good fer runnin' en stupid. Nae other kraken o' any size 'as ever held ah candle tae his memory.... want tae see et? Teh tattoo tha' es, o' course."

Slipping her wing down from being over her head to wrap snug around Thea like a third arm Citrine let the genasi snuggle closer. It was like when she'd snuggle puddle with her adventuring group, back when she'd traveled for months across the wilderness with her once companions all across the winterscape, cities, and beyond in the hunt for Baba Yaga - another strange story that was best for another day. She's sparred a few glances at the exhausted glassblower, snugging her wing a bit closer around her friend. There was no other word for it, they'd exit this cave much closer than had they just met up for drinks or just had a customer and artisan relationship.

Laughing at the plea for more stories as Thea pulled herself up onto her knees, Citrine ran her hands through her hair. "Oi! 'Course Aye can! But Aye'll add on - just fer ye." She teased the taller woman, but it was clear from her tone and the way her tail flicked like a satisfied cat Citrine was pleased with the request for more story. She shifted, rolling her hips, so the knot that held her scarf securely around her waist could begin to be undone, so as to get to the side-pant ties on the side so show off her Blackwarn... but then the first question was about the ship.

"Oh, teh ship?" She tried to keep an upbeat tone, but the memories of her first purge on the seas was bringing back the very anger and rage she'd told Thea earlier that she still had trouble controlling when it took over. Her talons curled and there was a shift to her eyes, the curl of her lip, and a tenseness through her body felt through the arm around Thea's shoulders that gave her away. And, of course, the sulfur smell that began to flood the cave. It came from her wings. Before now it'd just been the traditional smell of candlesmoke, ash, and clove - a scent that always hung around the phoenix as if she smoked three packs of cigars a day, with a bit of a happy warm ocean breeze that might have been 'masked' by the warmth of the cave and the actual sea wind getting caught inside.

But with her growing memories? Turning her wings into the embodiment of her emotions? The sulfur had nowhere else where it could have been coming from but her wings. "Teh Argent Prince." She ground out. "Was destroyed with all teh fury, range, an' fire Aye could muster.
Nae one.

                                                            Who'd willingly signed.

                    That bastard's Code.

Lived.    

An' they didn't                 get sent                 tae teh                 depths                     quickly                 either....       



      

Nae one."

Snorting hotly through her nose the firebird, who'd started to molt motes of fire across her skin and wings - a potential danger to Thea catching fire herself - shunt her eyes closed and forced calming and gentle thoughts into her head instead. But it was hard. Breathing heavy, forcing the roaring heat and revenge of her sorcerer bloodline in her veins, she could hear the drum beats and violent krees and yells from the Firebird who gave her fire. It would have been too easy to let the memory engulf her…

…

…But the figure kneeling so close to her, grounded her. She was too experienced to let herself go, and blindly let the fire take over. Had she been alone? She would have let the transformation fully take over - turning into a pure bird of fire like the legends spoke of more than a hybrid bird-woman that she was, just to bask in that beautiful hot anger once more - and cooled off only by yelling into the winter hurricane outside. But knowing Thea was so close nearby was a solid forceful reminder she wasn't alone. This was the present. Not the past.

Rolling over, a growl in her throat and an intimidating clatter of bird sound from her lips, Citrine tucked the wing that was between her and the fire to her chest as she drew all the fire threatening to ignite all over her body to her opposite hand. The motes of fire, excited to go anywhere easily obeyed, and with a forceful flick of her fingers? The fire was sent into one large firebolt towards the fire. The scene happened all in moments, giving little risk to real harm happening to Thea.

Citrine was breathing heavily, sweat shining on her face, arms, and stomach. Her jaw was clenched against trembling even as tears threatened her eyes. For a quiet time Citrine was poised there, arm outstretched, as if reaching for the fire, shaking. "Aye apologize Lass." She said, sulfur finally fading to nothing. "Memories are strong at times." It was an understatement, that was for sure. "An', as Aye said… sometimes teh anger gets teh best o' me. Even nae."


Her arm dropped, her fingers clenching from the afterglow of sending that much rage-made fire out of her. "Ye'd… ye'd asked other questions… aye… Lass?" She struggled as her breathing started to steady, but her head was still filled with smoke.

She stayed stiff as a statue at first, no doubt making Thea think she was being foolish or unwanted in her attempt of comforting contact - only to cave just shy of the moment it became awkward. The arm that was outstretched still cracked and gripped around Thea, her wings following suit, until the genasi was like a teddy bear to the smaller woman. Unlike Thea, she didn't cry - her emotion wasn't sadness, but anger. Luckily, just like her fire to begin with, her anger burned hot and potent before using itself up and returning to normal.

But holding and being in physical contact was a balm to her heat. She tucked the teddy bear closer, sitting back on her haunches, then on the floor, wings cocooning them both, until she felt more settled and grounded. Her breathing calmed and the heat from her wings was no different than normal.

"Aye, yes, me tattoo." Her voice wasn't ragged, at least not like it'd just been. Anger that potent just didn't dissolve that quickly… but it was greatly reduced. She released her near death-grip and let Thea pull away, but still kept a wing stretched over her just as she kept a hand on her knee. Looking at her face? The grin, wink, and gentle reminder helped just as much as the contact. A heavy breath, pushing out some of the lingering heat, then a smile of her own. She left the elephant in the cave of her not being afraid alone - Thea was still here, and continuing on just as she'd done for her after her own sobbing mess. No need to insult the grace and tact with a stupid question.

Focusing now on the knot on her scarf she tugged at the tie just right to make the whole thing loose, then used her mage hand to help unravel the whole thing as she sat up on her knees. Foot after foot of fabric unwound from her hips, the jingling disks, gems, gold and silver thread woven within, and designs that -upon a closer look seemed to look like Citrine herself- flickered in the firelight. In all? There was about three meters worth of burnt orange fabric being piled up and folded nicely by her three hands.

While this was going on, Citrine continued, focusing on the question asked now to help further reduce the heat. "Breathin' underwater, an' not dyin' from teh immense pressure down below, es easy when ye've teh blessin' o' ah two-faced God-Goddess who rules and reigns o'er teh sea an' sky." Casually she spoke, though her body language betrayed how nervous and apprehensive she was to talk on the topic. Many people didn't believe her to begin with, so she could pass of her answers as furthering a practical joke.. Most, if they did believe her, however, then scoffed and rolled their eyes - the very notion that regular folk could catch the eye of the deities and pantheons an absurd and undignified declaration - if not blasphemous. But never once had Citrine ever behaved as if she mocked the sea, or disrespected it, or anything of the sort that could be labeled blasphemous - perhaps, except, calling a deitiy's beloved servant a sprog, but even that had been with a layer of respect still. There'd been comments of being crazy. Of being touched in the head. Cursed even. It was much easier to not bring it up, ever, on her own accord.

"Down tha' deep there's naethnig tae see anyways - we were sailin' en deep water, far removed from teh islands. Teh level o' storm Aye stirred? Aye didn't want et tae damage other ships o' towns. Et rained quite some days after though - there was some floodin' en some o' teh areas despite teh distance out… but tha's teh nature o' storms." But she'd never deny the truth of a directly asked question, no, never… minus three things.

"Oh there be fish, an' merfolk, an' corals, an' all sorts o' other besties tha' travel en teh sea. It's when there's…. Really *truly* deep, deep water tha' there's pratically nuthin'. Just, dark water. Ah graveyard fer ships." Ah.. Well… that was awkward now. But there was no adjusting her statement then, she'd put her foot in her mouth there talking of sunken boats and gravestones. Nothing left to do but continue on. "But ye're absolutely correct! Teh stars are, aptly, called starfish. An' teh pools? Shoals, o' even tidepools dependin' on teh formation o' teh rocks." Oceanography was perhaps one of the few topics Citrine could actually talk intelligently on.

The polite change of topics had Citrine a little disappointed, but she didn't let it show. It's not like she needed to talk to someone about her time under Gozreh's leash and collar… but… it would have been nice. But there was just so much history involved in it, that, much of the story all told together would make her sound insane. She knew, because she'd tried before. Learned the hard way to just, let things be. But when asked a question like Thea had asked her? She felt almost compelled to answer.

By now the scarf was all settled, leaving Citrine kneeling in just her chest wrap and leather pants. In a very different setting with very different intentions her position could go in a very different direction - but somehow, in the cave, with the recharged fire? It didn't seem invasive, provocative, or inappropriate at all. Holding her wings away from her back so the flight feathers wouldn't interfere with her ties, she chuckled, going on as if she wasn't slightly dejected.

"Oooh, Aye've loads o' stories Lass!" She excitedly said, giving the assumption that all her tales were indeed stories and not a truthful re-account of her lives. "What sort o' story? Aye've stories from an elven village - be warned though, they'll put ye right back tae sleep. Ferm ah few traveling gypsy camps! They're ah band o' bards an performers fer teh most part. Ooh, an' then o' course Aye've plenty more stories o' being on the sea - Anchor Days in particular, where Aye tricked teh Fleet Commander entae being forecfully 'eld down by 'es Master Gunner! All sae Aye'd stop playin' ah single song on me violin." She grinned then, each story idea getting more and more absurd from the other.

The ties at top were finally undone - the trick knots needing all three hands, including mage hand, to undo properly. If you'd just had two? It would have constantly kept re-tightening the knot, making it impossible to undo. Citrine was good with rope. The two sides of the right hip's pant parts began to separate, though she left a loop at the very top to keep her pants up, the tan skin with little red feathers began to show. As well as the bright orange and teal ink that poked through.