Memoirs of an Old Life [Closed]

Citrine's thumb ran across her elvish cheekbones, and Orin would be studying Citrine's face as well. She would chuckle a little bit, but the chuckle would drop slightly as the bird ran fingers across the top of her ears. It would be the first time she closed her eyes and leaned into fingers on her ears since she found it was something she enjoyed thanks to Amafreya all the way back in Silverymoon months ago that seemed like so much longer, honestly. In fact- "I had a friend show me how," she all but purred as she opened her eyes and collected herself, trying to go back to Citrine's eyes with a small cough clearing her throat.

"...Yeah. That sounds nice," Orin would nod lightly as Citrine turned away from her to mage-hand journals on the table, and she'd watch Citrine turn red at the thoughts, or maybe presenting someone else with something so personal? Either way, the eladrin would understand how potentially embarrassing it was- she hadn't even thought about handing her journal to anyone since she had started writing it. The journal had been in her possession since she arrived in Faerun, once she was away from the Winter Court's direct influence. Lady Susan made her remember everything first-hand. Anything that she couldn't remember? She was either punished for, or it was deemed unimportant.

But that wouldn't be a thought that stayed in her head for much longer. Orin's eyes would widen as Citrine leaned down, moved in and pressed her lips into Orin's. There was a moment that the eladrin moved back, slightly, but it was only to adjust before replacing them right where they had been. Slowly, carefully, the eladrin's lips danced with the phoenix's, and her hands slowly moved up from where they were to travel up her neck, her jaw, and her hair, her thumbs behind her ears. The wings spread out, and light shimmered through like a bonfire surrounded them. Orin closed her eyes as the anxiety melted away with each playful nip and tug.

There wouldn't be any response to any kind of mental voice, but almost on queue, the eladrin's fingers would tighten on one side and pull her head to one side before kissing her one last time., Moving a strand of hair from the way and pressing her lips to the top of Citrine's neck, Orin would kiss, then kiss a little further down, then another one, down to where the base of Citrine's neck connected before she softly bit, right above the collar, just for a moment, and just enough to catch Citrine off-guard as her arm wrapped around Citrine's waist, fingers pressed into the swell of Citrine's back.

"Do- do we want to continue?" Orin asked, pulling herself away for a moment. "Not that I have a problem- I don't. You're beautiful-" So smooth, Orin- "really beau- but honestly? I haven't eaten anything today," the eladrin would admit. There was the trays of meats and cheeses, and not to mention the whiskey, even in the small amount she had consumed, had already pulled through, and between the heat from the alcohol, the fire, and Citrine, she felt pretty warm. Though she partially blamed High Cleric Davis, the prick, for that- she had spent her single hour of break hoofing it across town and back because he decided he needed his crap coffee.

Once again, Orin would lean into Citrine's fingers as they traced her right ear, though she didn't close her eyes. The description of her ears as handlebars, though? It made her chuckle, half because she had been well aware of what exactly the phoenix had in mind when she said it. As Citrine stretched, though, the warlock would repeat the phrase she had used- "neach-gaoil-" it was a phrase that felt familiar, but she didn't know the meaning behind it. Orin decided to take it as it sounded, a term of endearment.

As the mage hand refilled the whiskey that she had never taken a drink of, filling it to the brim, the eladrin would chuckle nervously. "My old job at the temple didn't really give me time to eat. Most of my breaks were me on errands to appease the High Cleric, and usually wound up with me running across town," Orin would shift back against the chair, getting comfortable with the new weight on her legs. "All so he wouldn't have to."

The topic of the reincarnation spell came up, though, and she would purse her lips in a flat smile. "No. Not really. My power. My mantle. Everything was left to her discretion." There was an inhale, then an exhale. "Honestly kind of surprised I didn't wind up as a goblin- or a bugbear- or a bear." Her smile would widen for a brief moment before falling back to a flat crease. "I-" Orin would inhale, nervous to even talk about it- "I know what needs to be done- after the crossing," the warlock would admit. "I've never had access to magic powerful enough to cast the spell myself, though. Normally, I was a kineticist, and I was allowed to keep my mastery over the elements through the reincarnations.

"I got-" a thought back to the glory days, if that's what they could be considered, "-really powerful," Orin would admit, "in Lady Susan's service. Did some stuff I wasn't proud of, though," she would speak the Winter Lady's name quietly, almost as quietly as she had just admitted she wasn't proud of the stuff she had done. Besides, it's not like she had been around since Puppers had attacked and blown her secret outside of the occasional appearance in memories during her trances. "Could traverse realms. Become lightning and wind, pure energy, even, if I wanted to. When I left? She stripped me of all of that power, my Mantle, my energies... and my memories of you, apparently." The eladrin, as she spoke, would have stolen some of the meats and cheeses from the platter that Citrine would have mage-hand-delivered to the chair. "Said that it wouldn't be fair for me to just be able to... appear there.

"Though she's... connected to me. Just so you know," Orin would look down, eating the meat first before continuing. "I'm a Warlock. My powers are granted to me through her, so she's always there, in the back of my mind." Next, a nervous sip of whiskey before moving on to the cheese at hand. "I just wanted you to know that, before we go any further, Citrine. Before you decide to put me through my paces," the eladrin would curl her lips into a smile once again, quickly, before resting her eyes on Citrine's.

"I don't think anyone ever could come close to realizing," Orin would comment after swallowing a bite of meat, cheese and a small amount of bread. She would take another drink of whiskey, a bit bigger than her last sip, enjoying the burn and generally needing something to wash the food down with. When it came to the medallion that she spoke of? The eladrin would blink at Citrine- enough of a response for someone that could read her body language like Citrine was apparently able to. She'd feel bad, though, like Citrine was remembering this entirely different person, but Orin couldn't remember who that person was, exactly.

"So... you're a warlock, too? Of this Firebird?" Orin would try to remember- really try- but only remember memories of ambient heat, like sitting too close to a campfire. She struggled behind her eyes of dark amber that reflected the autumn stained glass that was each feather of Citrine's wings, each strand of hair, each glimmer of whiskey that burned with each sip. "Like a phoenix?" she wold ask, and on her voice, there would be a little bit of pain, like she was struggling to remember.

It was then, of all the times to do so, that Orin would think of Lady Susan, her own matron. The Winter Lady, Queen of Air and Darkness, the one that had given her so much. Even through her meditations, even with Orin coming to look at her past life as the Winter Knight as a third party, realizing all of the manipulations that had taken place, all of the horrible things that had been done to her- that she had done to others that she had personally cared about, she still remembered the good over the bad. She still remembered the way Lady Susan praised her, the way her arms folded into Orin's as they walked about- even the way that Lady Susan's head curled against her neck, her teeth into her collar like a drug into the veins of a junkie that only craved the next injection.

The eladrin would fall silent for a moment.

She knew the pirate way- taking what they could and giving nothing back. Her greed had led her to some interesting situations, one of which led her to Lady Susan's room in the Inn that she had stayed at, on some cold night. Orin had been curious about what Lady Susan could offer her, and even then, hearing Lady Susan coo her, call her Darling, whisper to her, string her full name together in a way that was better than any Shackles shanty or Chelaxian opera. Orin had wanted more. Orin was always greedy, and she knew it, for better or worse.

In some ways, her greed led her, short-term, to take the glass of whiskey to her lips, tilt her head back, and drink. Each gulp a cascade of fire, each a pulse, heating through her body. Orin's glass would be empty, and she would sit there, leaned back against the back of the chair, under Citrine, and simply exhume fire through her throat and from her mouth. It filled her senses, and even as she resisted the urge to cough, her constitution nowhere near what it had been, she would look up to Citrine before shifting the empty glass over to the plate that held some of the food the phoenix had brought over.

"Would you mind... if we just lived for tonight?" Orin would ask, trying to recoil from her thoughts of Lady Susan. "Take what you want, give nothing back, live in the moment- that sort of jazz, right?" the eladrin would inhale, whiskey still permeating through her senses. "I'm pretty sure my Matron isn't going to like the fact that I've found you, so I'm sure there'll be some kind of roadblock heading my way. So... could we just share tonight with each other and worry about tomorrow... well... tomorrow?" Orin would raise an eyebrow to Citrine, a smirk bleeding it's way across to the corner of her lips.

"I d-" Orin would be silenced, and her answer wouldn't be heard.

She did believe Citrine, though, at least to the point that she didn't completely disbelieve what the phoenix was saying. After all of the things that Orin herself had lived through, all of the things she had done? Why would that be out of the realm of truth and possibility? Still, though, as Citrine's finger trailed down her lips, then jaw, neck, collar and the scar, where Orin would finally take a staggered breath, the eladrin would close her eyes and lean back into the chair, enjoying the touch with a pleased smirk.

Her eyes would open back up as Citrine's fingers left her mid-section. She would look to the palm offered to her by Citrine. This was potentially the person that she had been looking for. If not? At least she'd get one night, and she could worry about everything else after tomorrow's sun had rose into the sky. Orin's palm would move up Citrine's, clasping around the back of her forearm, delicately at first, but quickly becoming firm and strong. Orin would look at Citrine and her smirk would become a full smile.

"...Give nothing back," the eladrin would whisper.

From there, it would be well past the morning sunrise before Orin was able to focus enough to delve into her trance. Pleased, grinning, Orin would eventually fall into herself, reaching out to connect to her past lives. This time, the eladrin appeared, standing at the tallest cliff leading out from her hometown of Port Peril, her eyes traveling out to the coagulation of winds and water that formed the mythological storm known simply as the Eye. She was dressed in layers of mithril armor that wrapped around her form, opening in some spots for her to pour her kineticist energy from. For example, the plates on her armor became wraps around her feet so she could feel the earth, she didn't wear a helm to feel the air rushing through her hair, and her hands were opened, unbound from gloves or plates, to more easily manipulate the elements to her whims.

Here, though, she turned to look back at Port Peril before taking up her quest to fly around the Eye, to attune to the primal, mythical forces that fluctuated within, but instead of seeing the town, her eyes would fall upon someone she hadn't seen in literal months- Lady Susan, the Winter Lady.

Orin's eyes would lock onto Lady Susan's as the Winter Lady moved, circling around the dock she was standing on. The eladrin would feel the chill of winter as it froze through the summer tides that poured in from the Shackles, and even bathed in the fiery red light of the sun, cold winter claimed the air. The century of training that Orin had experienced still caused her to remain silent in Lady Susan's presence, but there was a plethora of things she wanted to ask, to confront the Winter Lady on.

The song that Orin had been enjoying, the one that Citrine had lulled her into her trance with, suddenly stopped with the sharp break of glacial ice snapping apart and dropping into the ocean. The absence of Citrine's voice would be the first time that Orin would look away, her vision looking toward the sun that still rose in her memories. As Lady Susan sighed in comfort, Orin pursed her lips into a flat line, exhaling through her nose. Lady Susan finally asked a question, though, and Orin finally spoke.

"I actually liked the song, my Lady," she would admit as the Queen of Air and Darkness took three final steps toward her. She asked Orin how she had been, and, maybe as a surprise to both of them, the eladrin would lean back, away from Lady Susan's chilling touch. It was subtle, tilting the head away just enough for the finger to miss where the Winter Lady was going to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"Thank you for the boots, my Lady," Orin would continue on, despite a little bit of nervousness in her voice. The last time she had defied the Lady Susan, she wound up in the dark. She wound up doing so much worse to get back into her Lady's good graces once again. But the moment of defiance hadn't ended quite yet. "They'll help me the next time you decide to send Puppers after me. Maybe give him the advice that he should check to make sure he actually killed me next time?" She would offer before stopping. The question had been answered, and while she was... distraught with Lady Susan, she would still remain proper. Even her posture, in her old body, with her old armor, was straight and posh, arms folded behind her.

As Lady Susan went to trace her fingers across Orin's temple this time? Orin wouldn't move this time. The fingers would trace, and behind her back, her grip around the wrist behind her back tightened. As the hair tucked behind her ear, Orin would close her eyes. By the time the finger had curved around the ear, Orin would take a shaky breath. Down the crook of her jaw, Orin would tilt her head and show her neck. The finger came down her neck and she hated the fact that the touch of her Matron felt as good as it did. The finger turned to come down her jaw, and Orin's expression lacked.

Orin didn't like this... but she wanted more. She had missed the touch of her matron, and despite the thoughts of defiance in her mind, she was a druggie that just traded in a thirty-day chip for one more dose of a drug of choice. Even as she felt her abilities drain from her very being, Orin only wanted more, her posturing relaxing into obedience and nothing more as the scent of her Winter Lady flooded her senses.

"There has been hiccups, my Lady," the warlock would speak, three seconds later, with a morose, cold tone to her voice. "But I do agree. Almost three years of stress and worry. I'll finally figure out where I belong, my Lady," Orin would open her eyes, looking at Susan, taking a couple of heavy breathes as the cold air hurt her lungs.

"But, a question, if I may?" Orin would look to Lady Susan's eyes, not knowing what to expect as an answer. "If I do find the person I'm looking for, and decide to go with them. Would you respect my choice?"

Orin would look down from Lady Susan's eyes as if shamed by the Winter Lady's declaration that she was gluttonous for the touch of others. On one hand, Lady Susan was right, but on the other hand, wasn't Orin doing this in order to find something that she had longed for? To find that someone that, even through her service to the Winter Court, even though everything that had happened with Lady Susan- even the night they had shared together!- she still sought someone else.

Lady Susan was right- at first, she had thought it was Darious. But when she woke from her trance to find that Darious was attempting to charm her, and when she made him confess that had been what he was doing. When she had heard the reasons why and had relived the memories that Darious had given her before she had struck him down once again? After what she had done in Lady Susan's name to everyone else that she cared about?

"...But-" Orin would start, still looking down, quietly now- "by your own logic, my Lady..." Orin would inhale, steel her resolve, and then continue, her lips pressed together, her body tensing back up, despite the sensation of wanting to simply abide and agree with the Winter Lady. "...I can't trust you, either.

"Am I ever going to find anyone that can actually smell whatever's in the vial?" she would ask, the storm rumbling in the background of her memory. "What's the reason I can't remember Citrine, but I can remember every other detail of everything I've done?" Orin would ask, not angry, but hurt. "Why does my heart skip when she's nearby? Why did Lessi lead me to her?" she would ask before looking back down. "I mean no disrespect, Matron, but there's... questions. There's small discrepancies I've found in my memories the last couple of months. Like... here, for example-" Orin would be speaking of the memory they currently found themselves in.

"I know I didn't make this flight alone. There's this nervous feeling, and there's instances when I look back to check on someone that isn't there. I wasn't in your service yet, my Lady, and I can feel that someone is there, but I don't know who. There's others, too, where I have that same feeling, but-" Orin would stop, taking a deep breath for herself, the cold undoubtedly flooding the very air she needed, even in the reveries of the trance. "Why would someone hide my memories?" Orin would look at her. "I can't place it."