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Post by moralhazard on Feb 18, 2019 21:48:21 GMT
Citrine was all but dripping with pride. The feeling felt like it trickled out from her, soaking slowly into Thea’s skin, bathing her in a warm glow. Citrine squeezed her hands and let go, looking more than a little smug as well.
“Sculpt with it?” Thea’s eyes widened. “I -“ With a third or a fourth hand, hands that couldn’t be hurt by the heat of the glass? Could she get the winds warm enough not to damage it? Would the winds take on the ambient temperature? If it could work - if - she would be able to sculpt the glass more quickly than she’d ever imagined - or even work inside of a piece! The possibilities blossomed out in front of her.
“How did it feel?” Thea repeated the question back. Largely, she had felt relieved that it had worked. The magic itself hadn’t felt like anything other than an extension of her will. “Good?” Thea hesitated at the word. “No, that’s not - um - natural,” she said, finally, decisively.
Thea worried at her lower lip again, glancing around. Her throat was dry, desperately so. She’d had a cup of water earlier, she was sure... after a moment, she spotted it, sitting at chest height on one of the shelves against the wall, not ten feet from the table.
Thea took a deep breath in, and reached. There was a silvery flicker of wind near the shelf that trembled into existence, then promptly winked out. Thea exhaled, and breathed again, getting a steady rhythm rather than holding her breath. In out, in out - her gaze focused on the glass, and as she watched, silvery streams of wind coalesced into the air, swirling around the glass and gently lifting it up off the shelf.
The glass wobbled as the wind swirled back towards them, a little water slipping out to drip on the floor before it righted again. The wind didn’t take quite the straightest path, drifting left and right, almost winking out of existence for a moment, but it never fully vanished and before long the glass was in Thea’s hands, the wind swirling through her hair before vanishing.
Thea gripped the glass tightly. She giggled, as much a release of nervous tension as anything, and turned a smile on Citrine, taking a remarkably satisfying sip.
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Citrine
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6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 19, 2019 2:37:37 GMT
Citrine trilled a series a whistles and krees, something in the native birdfolk language no doubt, at the diction that her magic had felt natural. "Aye'm glad tae hear et." She ended her impromptu song in common. "Nae all magic involves large flashy explosions o' long winded arcane phrases. Et's… just ye will bein' applied tae things outside an' around ye. Teh simplest o' spells - cantrips? Ah lot o' people tend to think 'em just tricks o' sparkles. But ye can do ah lot with them."
A giddy yet still smug expression showed on her face as, while she was talking, Thea decided, on her own accord, to try and bring her water towards herself. The hand moved like the wind, swaying back and forth, water sloshing here and there - but Goddess she was proud of herself. Was this why people taught? And people said it was hard! Even Holly, who was like, the smartest being she knew, complained that she, Rain, was a near impossible student and woe be to her when one day she had to teach. But this was easy!
"Ah natural." She complimented, beaming from her spot on the table. As much as Citrine wanted to push their success, try to have Thea do something more, or even trick her into another cantrip? She didn't want to truly scare the woman. Plucking the statue that could have cost her a friendship Citrine adjusted so she was sitting cross legged once more, figure drifting into her lap, where she kept tracing a thumb over the design.
"Nae, as ye…." Her tongue stumbled over the word 'teacher', the word sounding much too formal and… Holly for her taste "...te…ea…Captain. Ye just call me ye 'Captian o' teh spontaneous arts!" There, that was a title she could get behind. "Aye want ye tae practice ye mage hand throughout teh week. An' ef anything else strikes ye fancy? Do et tae!" It occurred to her then, perhaps… maybe, just maybe though… Thea wouldn't know what sort of other things she could potentially do with her magic. She floundered. "Errr… ye… dae 'ave some ideas en what ye might like tae try doin'… aye?"
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 19, 2019 3:28:33 GMT
Thea was still riding the exhilaration of carrying the cup to herself. This – this was how she’d imagined magic would be. Shaping the wind to her control! As a genasi, she should be proud of that; if it came from her sorcerer side, Thea was content to ignore that for the moment. She had always preferred her cantrips to the more intense spells; when she had found joy in magic, it was more in little illusions on the wind than big, flashy spells.
“All right, Captain,” Thea giggled again, more relaxed, setting the glass down. She took a deep breath, glancing at Citrine, then back on the glass. Maybe it would be easier to talk not looking at Citrine? The last thing Thea wanted to do was spill more of her guts to the phoenix woman; on the other hand, Citrine was the only one who knew enough of the story to understand, and Thea certainly couldn’t imagine telling the whole sorry mess to anyone else.
Thea traced one finger over a knot in the wood. “I do know – that is – I thought I knew what I could do.” The spell Citrine called mage hand had come as, er, rather a surprise. Thea knew sorcerers could learned new spells over time, but she didn’t think she’d added to her repertoire in years.
It would have been hard to not to know. After the shipwreck, Thea had woken up from her nightmares using magic more than once. She had conjured gusts that had strewn her belongings across her room, shocked Maude with lightning, even conjured massive clouds of fog. There were two spells she’d really enjoyed: the armor she’d learned to craft from lightning bolts and the little illusions she’d been able to cast. Voices and shapes on the wind, Dominic had called them.
Thea exhaled, looking back up at Citrine. Citrine was her teacher – er, sorcery captain – now. Did that mean Thea needed to tell her? She wasn’t shy about using magic when she needed to. Did this qualify?
Thea hopped off the stool, and wiggled it with one hand. Satisfied it was light enough, Thea stepped back, and took a deep breath. The spell always felt to her like a blowing motion, a little encouragement for the wind, but she didn’t really need any hand motions to make it happen. The stool skittered, once, then whooshed ten feet across the room, rocking once before coming to a neat stop.
“I can do more,” Thea said, finally, turning back to Citrine. She wrapped her arms around herself. This was, Thea had to admit, much easier than quenching her earlier temper tantrum had been. Something in her blood felt like it was singing, like the lightning had been in the snow storm she and Citrine had survived. “Lightning bolts, mostly,” Thea shrugged a little. “Fog.”
This one always felt like more of an exhale, and it was hard not to make the motion physically. Despite the warmth of the room, Thea’s breath made a little cloud; it trickled out from her, slowly, until the entire room was filled with a heavy white blanket, leaving most of the room near invisible.
Thea fetched the stool and carried it back, and she was sitting on it again when the fog cleared. “Some levitating, too,” Thea finished, and grinned, suddenly cheerful. “But – I’ve always been able to do that.”
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Citrine
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6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 19, 2019 16:03:15 GMT
For a moment Citrine thought the stool was going to crash into the glass opposite the wall from where it started - her orange sparking mage hand starting to condense. This time? It was Citrine who felt the flush of worry over something breaking - who released the sudden held breath in a joyous laugh when her aid was obviously not needed. "Lass! Ye ne'er said ye'd managed other spells!" The wind blew over her face and outstretched hand from her twisted sitting position, helping to relax her concern over an attempted spell gone rouge, and taking with it the sudden spring of the scent of the ammonia smelling salts smell that had burst in her panic.
"OOoooOOoooooh." Citrine trilled at the mental picture of Thea summoning lightning and fog - easily day dreaming in imagining the genasi summoning storms and gales. Then? Her mental picture was made real as a dense cloud quickly flooded the room. In moments her vision was clouded, not even able to see the hand she held up in front of her face. Instinct took over and her wings batted the air in an attempt to clear it - to no effect. It had been a long time since she had been blinded by magical fog. But she wasn't on a ship, and she wasn't at sea. This fog was hiding nothing she needed to be prepared against.
Only when the fog started clearing at Thea's willful command did Citrine start to buffed the air again, pleased to see the genasi sitting back at the table on the very stool she'd sent flying across the room. "Damn near close tae flyin', levitatin'." She let her head rest in the palm of her hand as she still sat cross legged on top of the table, matching Thea's grin with her own. It was a personal joy to see others happy and cheerful - she'd never get tired of it.
"An' ye lightnin' - how precise are ye with et?" The ache at picturing someone else bringing about lightning and storms pulled at her heartstrings, but she pushed it aside in favor of the present. "Aye traveled with ah Lass who was just grand at usin' lightning… an' teh other elements, really… tae take on foes an' protect her allies. Aye meself am more comfortable with fire, obviously, but Aye can remember teh poses she stood en tae 'elp channel the storms, ef ye think ye need ah few pointers."
Despite her upbeat tone, there was a sadness that softly crept into her posture, her wings, her eyes. The smell of rain poked through the candlesmoke and clove, but perhaps that could just be from the dampness from the fog earlier. "Marvelous! Seems ye dan't need much o' ah teacher after'ull." She teased. "Aye'm impressed, an 'ere Aye thought ye would 'ave trouble with even teh cantrips. Any other spells o' effects ye've find yeself performing over the years? O' want tae try tae learn?"
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 19, 2019 19:02:29 GMT
Thea really had been able to levitate nearly as long as she remembered. Not just herself either. That one was a sort of mental pulling and pushing, a finding of balance in herself and the air around her. She had liked that as a child. Thea remembered well the time she had levitated herself to pick apples from the tallest tree in the courtyard after earlier scavenging had picked what they could reach bare, remembered the cheers and applause from the other children, remembered the glowing satisfaction as she had distributed the apples from back on the ground, even remembered the taste of them, the late summer sweetness and crunch.
The lightning was less pleasant to think about. “Accurate enough,” Thea shrugged in response to Citrine’s question. It was true sometimes, any way; she could summon lightning different ways, as a touch, as an arc, or in a burst that lit up the area around her. There was a different feeling associated with each; the last she hadn’t done often, only when really, truly terrified.
Citrine asked if she wanted more spells, something new, and Thea shrugged in response. Thea had never really wished for more magic; her nightmares had taught her something about what she could do, and she’d practiced more or less enough to keep it under control, then pushed things a little further at Dominic’s suggestion - and it hadn’t been the worst notion, Thea had to admit. On some of the adventures they’d had together, her magic had been the difference between life and death, or at least health and injury. Not that she hadn’t hurt Dominic. Even with everything that had come later, the anger she still felt, the memory was a miserable one. There was no ex-post joy in the damage she’d done to him, only an aching, miserable memory of the terror she’d felt.
Thea decided she would prefer to discuss something - anything - else.
“Actually, I was wondering - what can you do?” Thea tucked her hands around her water glass, studying it. Magic fizzed through her veins, under her nails, but Thea knew the storm in her blood would settle, if she didn’t feed it any more. “Spells, I mean,” she looked up and smiled at Citrine, genuinely curious.
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Citrine
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6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 19, 2019 20:31:26 GMT
For someone who'd been around magic, for practically forever her entire life, in some way or another, Citrine couldn't imagine someone having a bad connotation with a spell, spell family, or just general spellcasting ability. You had magic? You used magic. Simple as that. With this frame of mind Citrine heard and saw Thea shrug and simply assumed the genasi was just playing down her enjoyment of the spells and didn't wish to boast. She was aware that there were spellcasters who didn't expect, require, or even wish for acknowledgement of their abilities. And an 'accurate enough' was an acceptable answer to her prying and sticking her nose in where it probably wasn't welcome to begin with.
"Me?" She took a mental step back from the question, as she'd been so focused on today, and the last tenday, on Thea and her abilities it took her a moment to change mental gears. She just… did, when it came to magic. She rarely had to think about it - even moreso when sailing under Gozreh's name. An idea shaped in her mind and the magic in her responded. But Thea had asked with such a nice smile and tone in her voice? She fell for the redirection without a hitch - her personal confidence and love of herself paired with her general vanity a flaw just as much a benefit.
"Oi, well." She realigned her mind to start from simple and grow towards complex from there. "Ye've seen quite ah few o' me cantrips. Mage 'and es me favorite, havin' a third hand es right convenient. And me fire, ah mix of me phoenix an' me spellcrafting - just like ye've ah mix of air an' storms from being ah air genasi an' a storm sorcerer." She twirled a finger into her hair, the same copper curled braid she'd spun during Thea's opening exhibit, and sent a message to the glassblower. "Aye can send messages fer on'y a certain person's mental ears. Ye can respond back tae, even ef ye don't knae the spell."
Pushing up off of the table, standing now, but short enough her head still didn't touch the ceiling, Citrine started to roll her shoulders. "Can dae all sorts o' little things tae, write en air, create illusions -another favorite-, clean, tidy, diry… really the ideas are endless. Can even focus me anger enta et an send ah good blast o' energy out fer an attack. Summon light, both magical an' non-magical fire… Scold the dead tae, tha' be one o' me favorites." Citrine had a lot of favorites. "Aye just… think o' what Aye want ta do? Me magic makes et happen."
She turned to look down at Thea, her wings turning waxy. "But those be all me cantrips. Me real spellpower? Aye can ask teh power tae protect me, just like ye describe ye lil' coat o' lightening - mine's just ah subtle sheen… ye can see et most on me wings. Looks like oil. Aye can conjure ah shield, curse an opponent tae suffer misfortune an' wrackin' pain, an' even make someone think they be somewhere else entirely - seein, smellin, an' thinkin' they be experiencein' whate'er Aye want them tae." There as a shift in her voice here, one that seemed to coax and enjoy the thought of placing someone under those sorts of spells she described.
Her tone changed even further, becoming deeper, as if a bit hypnotized or a touch drunk, slowing down from her usual talking speed. "Me magic itself though… Et's... wild.... Chaotic. Et's been morphed an' changed tae behave en all sorts o' ways throughout me lives - divine, occult, arcane, natural, spontaneous… using all schools o' magic tha' exist. Et's power, pure an' simple. Teh fire en me blood's made even more potent from variety o' sources me magic comes from. Aye treat et like me dance partner, ne'er demanding, but asking. Because? From all teh twists and changes en how et works? Et 'as ah mind o' et's own. Anythin' above ah cantrip?" She grinned, the chaos that lived inside her blood showing through. "There's ah chance me magic just… does what et wishes. 'Ell, et could even try tae kill me." She gestured to the door, wings now rolling in their joints like her shoulders were. "When Aye popped o'er there? -another o' me favorites, poppin' places- Aye had ah chance o' me magic explodin' enta fire all around me. O' turned me blue… really there be no rhyme o' reason tae et."
The phoenix cocked her head and licked her lips in excitement, eyes shimmering in life-loving fun. Like a switch or level was flipped, her voice returned to the more mundane and fun-loving sort of tone she usually had. "Ye want tae see ah demonstration? O' the higher spells, tha' es." Her weight shifted from foot to foot. "Beyond teh misty step."
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 20, 2019 0:04:27 GMT
Thea was listening, attentively; something about Citrine’s voice always felt like it was weaving a little spell over her. She’d considered and discarded the possibility, deciding it was just something about the phoenix-woman’s accent and the story-telling way she spoke. The effect was much like magic, however it came about. All the same, she jumped half off the stool when Citrine sent a message straight into her head with no words, eyes widening – and she grinned, thoroughly impressed.
“Scold the dead?” Thea’s eyebrows shot straight up, and she leaned forward, wanting more details on that. She shivered a little when Citrine got serious, moving into her “true” spells. They were very different than the magic Thea reluctantly claimed as her own – focused, Thea thought, on manipulating the minds of those Citrine met. A good fit for the phoenix-woman, somehow.
Thea’s eyebrows had more or less settled back into place when Citrine began to explain the – well – downside of her magic. They promptly shot back up. Thea had never heard anything like Citrine’s style of sorcery before; what little she knew was about storm sorcerers and draconic sorcerers. There was a sea sorcerer she had met as a child, a year before she’d become a sorcerer herself. She’d heard whispers of more beyond that, but something like what Citrine described?
The only thing more shocking was that Citrine still used her magic so freely. Uncomfortably, Thea felt like there was probably a lesson in that, and not even a subtle one.
There was excitement rippling across the phoenix woman’s face as she leaned forward, making her offer. Thea was meeting her eyes – she couldn’t look away – and despite herself, despite her own fear, slowly, she nodded. What had she expected of someone who saw a storm and thought it was a fun ride? Of course Citrine wouldn’t balk to use her magic. Thea couldn’t think of anyone she’d ever met who rode adrenaline as hard as the phoenix sorcerer.
“Yes,” Thea said after a moment, figuring the question deserved better than a nod. “I’d like to see – something. If you’d like to show me.” It was a little bit of show me mine and I’ll show you yours, although Thea risked much less in the trade – but somehow she thought Citrine wouldn’t have it any other way.
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Citrine
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6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 20, 2019 21:23:36 GMT
"Aye, aye." She waved the question of scolding the dead absentmindedly, and answering it as if it were a boring topic. "Me Father doesn't care fer teh dead - ah right abomination tae real reincarnation an' revivitation, ye see. Sae Aye'm able tae whistle at 'em tae remind them teh dead should stay dead. Et stings ah bit more tae those who are already injured tae - ah useful cantrip, tae be sure." Depending on how wide Thea's understanding of sorcerer powers was? She might be able to know that, from her spell description? It was a spell commonly known as Toll the Dead - and it was most defiantly not anything any sorcerer could cast. It was more something a cleric was well known to perform, perhaps even a wizard - or a warlock.
"Ye seem surprised, Aye bet ye thought Aye was ah fire sorcerer, maybe o' teh red dragon bloodlines- ah lot o' folks dae, least until they hear about how chaotic me magic can be. There aren't many o' us - wildblooded sorcerers." Citrine had seen how shocked Thea reacted to the news that her magic wasn't fully hers to control. It was this same chaos that ran in her blood that pushed her to experience adrenaline, risk, and no doubt poor choices on a regular basis.
A wicked excited grin stretched across her face, tongue sneaking out at the corner then skimming over a tooth. "Tha's what Aye was hopin' tae hear!" The phoenix literally kreed a burst of excitement - sounding very much like the osprey she was fashioned after. "Nae - Aye'm sorry ef Aye end up destroyin' ye shop - but Aye won't apologize either." Cracking her knuckles Citrine was running through her mind what she was about to do.
Abruptly Citrine cracked her knuckles, then hovered into the air a moment in order to lower herself on the edge of the table to sit - tail feathers flicking to behave like the tailcoat of a men's jacket. With nothing more than a smile on her face she leaned over towards Thea, and tucked her hands behind herself to sit on them. "Then let me show ye something special tae me, Aye? Daen't resist if ye can 'elp et." She neglected to say, however, if the affect would cause any harm - it was more fun that way, to leave it to mystery.
With that? Citrine began to sing a song under her breath, a hum mixed with lulling bird trills that sounded almost like a lullaby. She moved one hand to start fiddling with the ring she wore around her neck - a brilliant orange-citrine colored stone wrapped protectively in gold and mithril wings. The air around them got warmer, hotter and hotter, and made of salt and brine, as the sun blistered the skin at high noon. Blinding light reflected off the water that could be heard further away - mixing with the creaking sound of wood, the snapping of canvas, and the jovial sound of a crew insulting and ragging on each other in a bid to finish top-deck chores before the others.
Citrine was now sitting on the railing that guard railed the drop distance between a beautiful golden red ship's wheel - small hairline engravings of feather imprints and fire decorating the spokes. Giant masts, holding bright red sails caught the wind, moving the ship forward. The edges of Thea's vision would be blurred, like it was hard to see beyond her immediate surroundings, but the mind would think nothing of it. As far as she knew? Thea was standing, hands on the ship wheel, of a massive and pristine and crew populated pirate ship.
"Welcome aboard Gozreh's Firebird; ye're standing at 'er Helm." Citrine preened from her casual lean-sit position on the guard rail, wings spreading to gesture around in sync with her hands. All the details, from the feel of the well-loved spokes and the heat seeming to rise from the wood itself, to the rushing sensation of wind teasing through hair would seem absolutely and utter real. The storm genasi, if she looked down, would be dressed in deep blues, sea-glass green, silver, and rosegold and outfitted in what could only be described as a blue shaded version of what Citrine was wearing - a huge leather Captain's hat, impressively emblazed sleeveless coat sitting over her traditional vibrant emerald chest band - skin tanned and protected against the sun's rays, almost looking gold when in the right angle. Rings, bracelets, and leather were bound up her open arms, gold for Citrine, silver for Thea, as well as necklaces and trinkets (even more than she wore now) tied into the hair. The only other difference between color? Thea actually had boots on, while Citrine still only wore the jesse leather cuffs around her ankles.
Leaning on the rail was a very tall half-elf woman with pure white hair protected against the sun by a braid down her back and an elegantly simple tricorn hat. Dressed much simpler, but somehow more expensive and 'noble' looking in blue, black, and silver. Yet for all the differences she seemed to mesh with the scene, seemed cool, elegant, and composed - a juxtapose to the wild beauty Citrine and Thea were dressed in. "Me sister… 'Olly." She gestured her head towards the over 6 foot tall statue of grace and poise, to address the most likely question. A compass was open in Holly's hand, steady eyes ignoring everything around her while she muttered in an unknown language under her breath. "She's me navigator fer me time aboard teh Gozreh. Stood up 'ere with me more often then nae." No one else could clearly be perceived, but the impression of there being more crew around on the deck below them, and even up in the assumed rigging, was unmistakable.
Once the spell concluded it's affect, and Citrine was maintaining the spell through the careful twisting of her ring at her neck? She felt the surge of her wildmagic brushing over her skin.
((If a 1, I'll roll next on the d100 table)) dNGlsAaA1d201d20
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 20, 2019 21:44:07 GMT
At the warning to her shop, Thea glanced around the room. Plenty of materials on the shelves, but no current projects and relatively little glass. As long as the entire thing didn’t explode, and whatever Citrine caused didn’t spread into the workshop connected to the front room by the little door behind them, they should be fine. Thea knew herself – she wasn’t nearly the risk-taker Citrine was – but somewhat to her surprise, she found a little shiver of excitement running up her spine at the thought of the risk.
Don’t resist? After a moment Thea realized her mistake – several of the spells Citrine had described were about affecting the mind of another person. The little frisson of tension increased, and Thea hesitated. To let someone cast an illusion over her without even fighting it? But, then, Citrine wasn’t just someone, not anymore. And while Thea had absolutely no doubts that Citrine would be a very dangerous enemy, she also believed that Citrine wouldn’t hurt her.
At least, not intentionally.
“All right,” Thea took a deep breath, relaxing on the stool, doing her best to keep her mind calm and empty. She focused her gaze on Citrine, listening to the song, letting it sort of seep into her mind, almost like she’d felt when the thundersnow storm had so enthralled her.
And then –
Thea gasped in awe, clinging tighter to the ship’s wheel. She could feel the soft grooves of the spokes beneath her fingers, worn from the grip of many hands in more tense situations than this one. “Oh…” Thea couldn’t help laughing with the sheer delight of it, the feeling of the sun on her skin, the wide expanse of the ocean. It brought to mind a dozen memories of standing with her hands on the wheel of her mother’s ship, feeling her mother’s hands clasped over hers the first few times, then later on her shoulders, then later still her mother standing beside her, smiling down at her as Thea ‘steered’ the ship.
Thea glance down at herself, and squeaked a little. She was an air genasi, not typically known for modesty, but she had grown up in a conservative human family, and this was a bit more skin than she, er, preferred to show. Her body gleamed blue all the way down to the waistband of her pants, slim and boyish, with just enough curves to show she was, definitively, female. Thea promptly let go of the wheel with one hand to tug the coat over it, a deep blue blush rushing up her cheeks, the bracelets on her arms bumping noisily against the pistols belted to her waist. She couldn’t think why she’d chosen to wear something like this, or why she’d failed to keep the coat closed just a moment ago!
Thea looked up at the other figure leaning against the rail, then back at Citrine, blush fading slightly as the sight of Holly distracted her. “She’s a beautiful ship,” Thea kept one hand on the helm and the other on her coat, but ran her gaze enthusiastically over the ship’s rail. Behind them, she could hear the hustle and bustle of a working crew, and it never occurred to her to check whether they were there. “Where are we headed?” Thea’s gaze drifted back to the horizon, drifting from side to side as if checking for landmarks herself.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 20, 2019 22:06:13 GMT
Laughing at Thea's reaction to being dressed in her Captain's regalia Citrine crossed her arms and simply watched the genasi standing at her helm. The shift of her arms showed off the dual hatchets at her hips, an unseen sheathed rapier that rested down the spine of her back in between her wings shifting with the motions, while two pistols snugged against the dips of her back. "Ever'where yet naewhere!" She exclaimed, pointing a thumb towards Holly. "She hasn't told me where we're headin' yet, an' won't fer ah bit. Tae many cross-checkings tae consider. Sae? We're just sailin fer teh joy o' et right nae."
The spell wouldn't last too much longer, not at this rate, and so with a renewed series of trills sensed somewhere in the background of this illusion Citrine refreshed the spell, pulling on her blood's power to force the spell to last longer than it generally did. As for the goosebumps across her arms? They settled, content. She hadn't thought her magic would resist showing off, but you just never knew.
"Aye'm glad ye think sae. Sailed 'er fer ah'undred years - an she ne'er let me down. Course… et goes tae ways. Sailed into many ah storm, many ah battle, but we kept each other straight enough tae only gain ah few scars." As if unable to resist running her hands over the fence rail Citrine didn't keep her arms crossed for long, caressing the wood with a mix of emotions behind her eyes.
Lost in the bittersweet waves of memory Citrine didn't catch the end of her song nearing its conclusion until it was too late. The waves and crew shouts faded. The smell sucked in on itself to only remain the same clinging on candlesmoke Citrine had around her. Fizzling, the ship fence turned into the table, Citrine sitting on it with her palm flat on the surface. Holly turned into nothing, shelves of supplies transforming from the railing. The spell wasn't one that lasted too long, a minute at most unless she focused on singing the spell longer. Humming the last bit of the tune, Citrine soon went quiet, and it was like nothing had ever happened. Clothes back to normal, with them both just existing inside the glass shop.
"Well." A bit more dialed back, the memory obviously having some sort of effect on the firebird, Citrine wasn't as drunk and high on adrealine as she'd been before. "Tha's tha. One o' me grandest spells - an' always risk teh use ef Aye'm needin' tae pull et out." She looked up at Thea then, as she described the spell a bit more. "Crazy how someone can twist teh mind tae make et believe anythin', aye? Illusions bein' real, real bein' illusions… ne'er quite naeing which one es which until et does nothin' but make ye mad fer death." She breathed a bit deeper then. "But tha's only ef et's unpleasent nae ain't et?" She pushed the melancholy out and down. "Et's right grand fer sharin' experiences!"
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 20, 2019 22:20:01 GMT
Thea giggled. “Sounds good to me,” she admired the wheel with a smile, smoothing the hand that held it along the spikes. With the seas so calm, the wheel really didn’t need much attention at all, but, in truth, Thea just liked the feel of it beneath her hands. She had been back on a ship – before this one, of course – since the wreck. Several, in fact, during her apprenticeship and since. The first time, she’d climbed onto the ship, settled into her cabin, and absorbed herself in reading for the entire journey, happy to pretend she wasn’t on a ship at all, and thoroughly grateful that she was never seasick.
Later – years later – Thea had found happiness on the deck of a ship again. Now, it brought back that tingle of pleasant memories, not fear and pain. Gazing out at the horizon, she could feel the now of the ship beneath her feet, and the memory of then, of bare, callused feet against the smooth wood of her mother’s deck, the now of her captain’s jacket and hat and the then of a tunic, sunburnt blue skin and white hair waving wildly beneath a blue bandana.
“I’m glad to have met her,” Thea said, softly, glancing over at Citrine, then back to the wide, blue horizon.
It was only when the illusion faded that Thea’s mind snapped back, and she realized – with an abrupt sense of loss – that it hadn’t been real, at least not this time. She shivered, clinging to the stool, and looked wide-eyed at Citrine.
“… Well,” Thea shivered again, goosebumps standing up on her arms. Her eyebrows lifted at Citrine’s description of the power illusions cold have, feeling the phoenix woman spoke a bit too much out of experience, but she nodded her agreement. “I’m not sure it’s only the unpleasant ones that are dangerous,” Thea said, wryly. One hand lifted to touch her cheeks, where the feeling of the sun’s warmth and the sea’s spray still lingered. “… I could happily lose myself in an illusion like that,” Thea sighed, unhappily aware of the cold evening that awaited her outside. “Thank you for sharing it,” She grinned again, the buoyant lifting of spirits that the shipboard illusion had given her outweighing the disappointment of reality.
“Do you have to have experienced something to conjure up an illusion of it? Or does it matter if the person you cast the spell on has?" Thea asked, curious. “I mean – is it you who fills in the details? Or does my mind do it too?” The ship had felt so real, so vivid, not at all like her mother’s, except in the way that all journeys on the sea were a little bit alike. Would it have been so real for someone who’d never been at sea? Thea wondered. Could Citrine conjure up an illusion for her of something Thea had never seen? Something neither of them had ever seen? Thea imagined that – at the very least – Citrine would need to have something to feed into the illusion.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 21, 2019 17:11:52 GMT
"Ye're moar than right. En ah lot o' ways? Teh nice ones are worse." She refused to let her melancholy memories ruin the joy Thea had clearly gained from seeing the ship.
"As fer teh details o' teh illusion?" She pondered the question, running a hand through her hair, then pulling a wing forward so she could fiddle and preen at the glossy feathers as something to keep her hands busy. Spell theory wasn't her fortae, so she tried to remember what Holly had told her about the illusionary school of magic. "Well… an' all this be accordin' tae 'Olly, mind ye. Aye'm nae one fer learnin' an' studyin' teh abstract myserious ways o' magic - Aye just use et." She grinned a laugh. "But? Et's ah mix o' both, really. Aye present teh imagery an' sensations Aye want someone tae experience, an mix en teh emotions Aye've felt durin' teh scenerio. Me own flair Aye add - sharin' emotions tae make teh spell more potent. But ye head does ah-lut o' teh work tae. Ye fully believed we were on ah ship, teh two minutes o' so we were en the illusion. Felt teh sunburn. Smelled teh sea. Et was real. Ye mind did most o' that convincin' work."
She trill hummed as she collected more of her thoughts, fingers deftly shifting through her feathers to keep them aligned properly and unbent. "Aye've always pulled folks an' beasties enta memories o' me own, forcin' em enta whatever emotions Aye was feelin' at teh time. An… ef Aye'm potent enough with et? They're harmed, an' pained, accordin' tae what Aye force 'em tae experience." Citrine debated expanding further, "Ef Aye'm castin' angry? Me foe feels me anger - can feel teh fire o' teh Firebird en me blood. An' et burns 'em - burns 'em grand. They can't handle teh sensation o' what et feels like tae be burned alive ferm teh inside out. Nae on else Aye've ever met has ever experienced bein' born ferm fire… but tehir mind believes et, an their body reacts tae what teh mind tells 'em es pain."
The undercurrent to her casual discussion of forcing fire and sulfur into the minds was a frothy one. Like shimming coals of a fire, there was a sense of Citrine never being too far away from igniting into flame, just as she described subjecting her enemies to.
"Emotions are heavy things." She concluded. "An' Aye'm, admittedly, ah very emotional being." A lopsided grin justaposed the serious topic. "Orin used tae say, Aye et was because Aye'm so small, tha' Aye only feel one type o' emotion at ah time, leavin' nae room fer teh others. Aye just laughed. Aye'm nae tiny sprite or pixie… But tha' means tae… fer all me tendency fer anger an' hate towards somethin'? Aye feel teh same with all teh other emotions tae." She stuck out her tongue briefly, a few loose feathers now gathering in her lap that she'd pulled from her wings. "Only time Aye dan't feel sae… 'fired up' as et were, es ef me flame gets snuffed an Aye gae numb. Mostly from cold, but bein' literally snuffed daes teh trick tae." Her mage hand was now taking the loose feathers and arranging them around Solace.
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 21, 2019 17:48:12 GMT
Thea nodded a little, still sitting comfortably on the stool, listening attentively to Citrine. Her mind did the convincing work; it made sense. Thea wasn’t sure, exactly, but she could imagine that the smell of the sea wouldn’t have been so crisp, had it not also been a part of her memories. How could someone ever imagine such a thing, without knowing it? It would have to come from either Citrine or her or both, else… Thea didn’t see how the mind could know it. And yet – perhaps if one had never smelled the sea, one wouldn’t know if an illusion of it was, well, wrong? The whole thing make Thea’s head ache, a little, and she was happy to listen to Citrine instead.
The description of the feeling of the firebird in her blood made Thea shiver a little, made her eyes widen, but she didn’t interrupt, although her arms crossed one another in front of her body, like a half-hearted hug, as if that somehow might protect her from the intensity of the emotion.
“Was it the same when you were an elf, or a kitsune?” Thea asked, curiously. The best part of the time they’d spent in the cave had been hearing about Citrine’s past. In the days since, when Thea had thought about it, she’d felt much the same way she had upon hearing it – that it was clearly true to Citrine, and that, as far as Thea could tell, it was objectively true as well. “The… intensity of emotion, I mean,” she shrugged a little.
“Can I?” Thea extended a hand towards the feathers. If Citrine allowed her, she’d help with the arranging; it was her art, after all, and she had a bit of a knack for making the feathers look nearly like part of the statue. If Citrine didn’t seem to mind, Thea would explore the feathers a little further with her fingers, comparing them to the etchings she’d done on the statue, always eager to improve her craft.
“Does heat have the other effect?” Thea asked. “If you’re near fire, is it… are you… more emotional?”
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Feb 21, 2019 19:26:04 GMT
Trilling her approval, she had no problem with Thea arranging the feathers like a herbalist would flowers. Preening was always a good distraction, and removing the loosened or broken feathers always felt nice. They were works of art, each of them, stunning examples of a fire-dipped feather. They had an oily residue on them that faded soon after it clung to something other than the feather - the 'polish' rubbing off of anything not itself. They'd have with them the same smell of candlesmoke, ash, and clove - proving that it was from the feathers themselves where the scents that rainbowed around the firebird came from. Unlike when they were firmly attached though, these imperfect pieces of shedding had no warmth in them. Not like ones she plucked with intent.
"Ehh…. Aye've always been ah bit o' a handful." She grinned in an embarrassed sort of way. "Always had ah temper - et split 'Olly an' Aye away from each other fer awhile when Aye was en me first life… daen't even remember teh argument nae… But Aye left me home city, Chelliax, an' refused tae look back - marched meself right tae teh docks, became a ship's scrub tha' day, sailed away, an' didn't talk tae me sister fer years." Remembering how her sailing career all stared brought a funny sort of amused smile to her face. "An' Aye've always been passionate about things Aye care fer. 'Especially teh people who make life worth livin. Sae, though et's never been quite as fueled as Aye am nae? Aye've always been ah wee lettle troublemaker. Teh Firebird just makes some emotion's more extreme tehn others."
The question about fire and heat prompted another teasing smile. "Oi! O' course! Fire sings tae me blood as much as magic an' power." She peered with a steady eye towards Thea, "Et'd be like me askin' ye ef teh stormy skies dan't effect ye - nae matter how much ye might nae enjoy et." She'd looped the conversation back around to Thea's uncomfortableness of her situation, but fluttered away just as quickly by continuing her own commentary. But the nod of acknowledgement was there - Citrine knew Thea was diverting the conversation from talking about her own magic. "Aye love teh heat, teh sun - est's part o' teh reason Aye feel drawn tae sailin'. Aye love teh summer, an find meself just more…. Me feelin' when Aye'm near teh flame."
Fire - always an element that had drawn her eyes and heart. Watching the flames, knowing it was only managed, never controlled. Each element could be destructive, sure, flooding was horrid. High winds destructive. Earthquakes - literally ground shaking. But fire? Fire was everywhere, from the smallest candle to the mighty forge - and it could as easily burn as warm. It was potent, intense -just like she was. "Teh best sort o' fire though? Magical fire. Et's like ah drug o' ets own, an' one Aye can't resist. Especially ef et's ah different sort o' magic flame than mine. Makes me want tae taste et, keep et, sing tae et."
One of her hands, as it passed over the wing elbow of the bend, ignited then - the fire somehow different from the fire she'd summoned in the cave. This one had the same sheen the oil on her wings held, turning the center violet and sparking with something much more alive. "Phoenix fire - quite different from teh usual fire Aye can summon o' whistle tae." Peering over her hand at Thea she had a sort of look on her face that seemed to convey 'I don't share this with many, enjoy this'. She pulled her hand away from the wing joint to keep the dancing mote in her palm - the colors shifting from orange to yellow to violet to white like a dancer's skirt twirling around and around - the flame sustaining itself through magical will alone. "Et likes finding other magical fire to dance with - et shares its personality with the other fire, and takes from et as well. From me Neach-Gaoil? Et took a seriousness Aye'd never hope tae 'ave on me own. Et's still playful, me phoenix fire; wild an' ferocious - yet with teh heart o' ah child...just like me... but…" She shrugged, letting the flame dance between her fingers. "There's ah balance added tae et... Et 'elps me, tae meditate with teh phoenix fire on occasion... tae remember her by."
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Post by moralhazard on Feb 21, 2019 19:47:08 GMT
Thea let the light play over the feather, admiring it, the sheen of colors and the faint oily residue. There were some things she couldn’t quite create in glass, but her mind played with the possibilities anyway – she couldn’t mimic the scent, of course, nor the softness of the texture, but she thought she could get closer to the color than she had, if she ever wanted to try to memorialize Citrine once more. The texture too – the look of it – had a few subtleties that Thea thought she could do better with, the look of the shaft down the center and the way the hairs connected to it. It didn’t matter much for something the size of Solace, but if she ever wanted to make a larger feather… a wing, perhaps? Thea could imagine trying to make a massive one of glass feathers, although she’d need a closer look at Citrine’s – or, well, an actual bird’s – in order to understand how the feathers fit the wings, the different layers of them.
“Where is Chelliax?” Thea asked. “Is it – from the other dimension that you mentioned?”
Thea was still listening to Citrine with, perhaps, two thirds of her mind, and the sudden mention of storms was like a guilty shock to her conscience, sending her gaze shooting up to the phoenix. She giggled a little. “How is it you can dive underwater, then?” She reached out to slide a finger over a feather she hadn’t touched, feeling the oily coating. She thought of oil, floating on water, separate from it, wondering… “Does it matter if the water is cold or warm? I suppose, far enough down, it must – must get cold.” She was happy not to think any more deeply on Citrine’s description of the pressure at the depths of the sea.
Thea caught the unusual look on Citrine’s face, and set the feather she was playing with down, giving Citrine her full attention. Her eyes widened at the sight of the flame dancing on the phoenix-woman’s palm, and she shivered a little. “That’s… wow,” Thea smiled, the light reflecting in the pale blue of her eyes, glowing against her skin. “Beautiful,” Thea said, finally.
“What’s… Ney-atch gay-oal?” Thea did her best to pronounce the word, aware that she was likely failing. Her gaze was still focused on the little fireball, basking in its splendor. Citrine was much more interesting than her own magic; Thea felt only a tiny bit guilty for preferring to talk about the phoenix-woman’s history to her own.
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