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Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy roleplaying forum! We strive for creative, free-form roleplaying, in the hopes of allowing each and every single member the power to achieve their potential.
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| Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy forum! We're always looking for new, dedicated members. Elenlond is composed of two continents: Soare and Esiria. Esiria, a land now isolated due to the efforts of the last remaining Goddess, is inaccessible to all beings and lies in the east. Soare, a continent in the west, is composed of three distinct nations: Ashoka, Soto, and Morrim. Lying between the two major continents are the Scattered Isles. Since the dissolution of the pantheon and the fall of the gods, these countries have existed in relative peace and prosperity. But how long will that peace last? Enter Elenlond; Turn the pages and tell your own tale. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
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| Topic Started: Aug 2 2009, 10:13 PM (131 Views) | |
| Ashes | Aug 2 2009, 10:13 PM Post #1 |
 
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It was night, and in the clean streets of Kinaldi, an uncharacteristic bonfire had drawn the attention of an exceptionally large crowd. Wood crackled loudly as it was reduced to ash, consumed by the flames which rose as if to lick the stars above. Tarot, at home in the fire, was perched in the hottest part, breathing jets of fire out. Ashes, her sword ablaze was awing the audience with a serious of flashy and quite dangerous blade tricks. She whipped it around her body, feeling the heat as the flames dared try to taste her skin only to be thwarted each time. Occasionally she would throw a bag of sugar into the fire, changing its color and making the flames leap. These bags were on the ground, scattered around her makeshift stage but most were too distracted to notice her pick them up and throw them. Children gasped, rubbing eyes (it was long past their bed time) as they watched the performer in awe. Her hair was changing colors by the minute, dazzlingly vivid hues coloring each strand, sometimes mixing. Little girls grasped their dolls tightly, and little boys whispered to one another about how they most certainly could do all those stunts not being performed before their vary eyes. Finally Ashes ended with a back flip over the roaring fire and then 'exhaling' a huge breath of fire over the heads of the onlookers. There were gasps and then a sudden thunderous burst of applause. A mischief-makers grin turned the corners of her lips and she bowed as coins were rained down at her feet. She no longer used them for food, however. Yes, her performances had come to supply her with enough money to purchase as many books as possible. She had lived a hundred times over through the heroes and heroines in the stories. Often, of course, she found words she didn't understand, but when the context was not enough she could usually find a made of cook to explain it to her. People were starting to disperse reluctantly, looking back in hopes of more fantastic tricks. Ashes was done for the night, however, picking up a bucket of water and dousing the flames. Tarot let out a disgruntled noise, batting the water from his wings as he perched across her shoulders. Suddenly, though, the black fire lizard leapt into the air, soaring over to a particular male in the audience and flying a circle around him. Silver, intelligent eyes searching this figure's face, as if suspecting it of some deception but unsure. Ashes moved over quickly, “Tarot, quit bothering people.” she scolded, her hair settling on blue for a moment and then to its currently favored vibrant pink. She snatched the lizard from the air, holding him like a child might hold a kitten, and turning her attention on the man, "Did you like the show?" She was dressed in her usual less than modest attire, the pants now with holes in the knee, the boots frayed from dragging on the ground. She had some white ash smudged on her cheek. A few feeble embers dared still burn behind her, feebly mirroring the nights sky above. |
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| Roan | Aug 3 2009, 01:57 PM Post #2 |
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Although he and the doe had much in common, one grateful thing they did not was the incredible adaptation they would have to undergo after stepping foot in this ...strange place. The western continent, he had found, was deceptively boring. The wild life, for instance, had less of a chance of wanting to eat you. Safer did also tend to mean boring, after all. Still, he had been feeling quite homesick from the moment his eyes had left his homeland. This was not where he was supposed to be, like an invisible force field continuously was attempting to push him off, as if he were some kind of bacterial infection inside the body of Soare. Such a strange feeling, it was. He didn't know what was up the Goddess's sleeves, if coming to the city was by choice or by force, but it had been a while and he's eventually gotten used to being stripped of free will every fifteen seconds. Having to second-guess yourself constantly may have made others mad. Not to say it hadn't effected him, but he'd been mad from the beginning. He mused that maybe that's why she chose him. All thoughts led back to her, always. Any day you could ask him what he was thinking about, and the answer was often the same. Even now, in a new place, a new city, surrounded by strangers, he couldn't shake her, that crazy bitch... He hadn't even realized he had stepped into a crowd of people all gathered to watch a girl play with fire. It became evident when the show ended, and he still stood there, staring at where the flames had been. Not even the lizard above his head was distracting enough, and it wasn't until he was spoken to that he gave any sign of life, slowly turning his head to view the source of the question he'd only gotten half of. The man was of an average age, maybe somewhere in his late twenties, early thirties. The features of his face were about as generic as one's could possibly be, five o'clock shadow covering his jaw. Semi-long, rust red hair fell into his face and messily matted to the back of his neck. He was dirty, wore dirty clothes, and in a wealthier environment such as this, he might be mistaken for homeless. Still, there was an air about him that wasn't quite right, as if Ashes herself could feel this continent as it struggled to push him off its grounds. Bright, amber eyes fell to meet her's, drinking in the poison she held within them fearlessly. For a moment, he simply stared at her, as if she wasn't a sentient creature, which could have been incredibly awkward, but they held no signs of judgment - or really any emotion - within them. "I like your hair," he beamed at her, granting her a very bright smile as he failed to answer her question. His voice was dark, thick, and rough, like the black thorns on a dead and dried bush. After giving her the compliment, he turned his head away, becoming distracted by something else like a kid in a candy store. The stranger meandered towards the extinguished fire, gradually pulling a large hand from the pocket of the coat it had been resting in, and poked at the charred and dampened logs of wood. The piece became dislodged from its delicate position, catching the sleeve of his coat in between another. The stranger's eye twitched in annoyance. He tore his arm away and freed himself, only to realize he'd displaced several more planks of wood, enough to have it all come tumbling down on him. The only remaining bit was his left leg, which sat very still, sticking out of the bottom of the heap. Edited by Roan, Aug 3 2009, 01:58 PM.
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| Ashes | Aug 5 2009, 09:01 AM Post #3 |
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Amber eyes locked with hers and she met them fearlessly, the way she met the gazes of both emperors and whores. His gaze was strange, and awkward sort of gawking that held no emotion, no real purpose behind the bright orbs. Her own, which had been filled with something like wary boredom, now ran over with curiosity. Her head tilted slightly to one side, like dogs sometimes do when they don't understand what they're being told. Tarot, sprawled across her shoulders, eyes the man with the same intense curiosity. There was something utterly not right, but even as Ashes eyed him she could find nothing out of the ordinary. After all her acrobatics and trickery they shared a somewhat dirty appearance, ash and dirt smeared on her cheek, but unlike him her hair was brushed smooth. Finally, works broke this awkward silence, but they did nothing to dissuade that feeling and sense of utter misplacement that surrounded this onlooker. He was like a a jigsaw piece that, though the same size and color as the rest, did not belong in the puzzle box he was in. Still, she smiled that little mischievous smile at the compliment and her hair instantly changed to match his, at least for a moment, “Thanks,” she laughed softly, her hands resting casually on her hips, “I like yours too.” The feeling she got, it was the same that bubbled up inside her, she realized. Like something was pushing or pulling- perhaps tugging and dragging her away, or towards, maybe forward? She frowned, it was like being tossed in the middle of a riddle that was spoken in a language you don't speak. In the time she pondered, though, with the miniature dragon resting across her shoulders, she seemed to lose track of the man. Claws gripped his shoulder, drawing pinprick amounts of blood before he leaped into the air, letting out a roar and soaring to land on a piece of wet wood in her bonfire pile. Ashes turned her head to look at him just as pile collapsed, sending tarot indignantly into the air once more. She didn't care too much about that, but when she caught sight of the leg no doubt belonging to a body buried beneath she let out a long and very impressive string of curse words that made passing mothers glare and maiden's blush darkly. She was swift to run over to the pile all while the obscenities fled from her mouth. She grabbed pieces of wood and, exhibiting surprising but not superhuman strength, she flung them to the side. Tarot's tail wrapped around the bigger pieces, easily dragging them away. People were gathering in a worried circle around the scene, hushed whispers and 'oh dears' everywhere. Ashes ignored them as she finally cleared the wood off the man and pushed his hair out of his face. Their bodies were very close together, not touching but with a definitely noticeable proximity. She smiled weakly at his face, fingers pressed to his neck to check for a pulse, “Hey, you alright Hun'?” she asked, Tarot perching on a piece of wood jutting out above them and looked down curiously. People surged forward, wanting to see if he was alive. She turned her face to them and glared. They were like buzzards looking for new gossip, eager to feed and create fantastic tails of time and place while a man died before there eyes and they watched and whispered while a performer girl with a slight build urgently dug him out. “Go on you useless rats- you're not helpin' so clear the hell off!” Her green eyes flashed with such an intensity that the majority of the crowd obeyed. Her hair was still the same color as the stranger's. Stranger here having too meanings,a s she did not know the man, but he seemed to be undeniably quite strange. |
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| Roan | Aug 5 2009, 03:03 PM Post #4 |
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Beneath the pile of fallen lumber, he glanced around in the dark, coming to realize what had happened. In irritated wince controlled his mask's features, but at the same rate, he did little to remove himself from the situation. In all honesty, it was only annoying the effort it would take to get out, and even then, it wouldn't take much for him. His strength was greater than probably anyone in the area at the moment. But it was quiet, dark, muggy, and isolated under here, and he kind of liked it. Regardless, he could feel the weight shifting over him, could see the beams of light that steadily grew in number. Someone was disturbing his little new-found nest, but he wasn't surprised to discover his rescuer was that girl. Then again, he probably wouldn't have even been surprised if it was the King of Angkar. Living in a realm of pure chaos, one came to not expect anything, and so expected everything. When his eyes met with the outside once again, he looked up at all the people crowded around. What was wrong with them? Was he doing something particularly amusing? No - brows were furrowed in worry. Why were they worried? It was just a pile of wood... The stranger blinked, eyes darting down with a bit of a start as he could feel a warm little hand passing over his face, clearing a tress of rust away. It moved down his throat where fingers pressed to find his pulse. He certainly had one, and it was growing quicker as his eyes grew half-lidded, more comfortable now beneath a pile of girl than wood. Yes! Of course! He could meet him dreamgirl here on the other side of the world! It would be so romantic. She saves him from being crushed to death, he asks her name... They fall madly in love and he promises to whisk her away to his homeland, and she doesn't even mind his lack of an actual face! Yes, of course! That was what was happening here! Oh, but what about her parents? To hell with them. They'd make a stand together against them, claim their love is too strong, it will never be broken! But then they'd shackle her in a dungeon tower somewhere... and he'd have to go fight his way through mercenaries, dragons, and ninjas to get to her! "My love shall prevail!!!" he shouted, suddenly coming to life in a way Ashes had yet to see. The upper half of his body flew up, doing a perfect handless sit-up in the process, before he stole what could potentially be a sweet, passionate kiss. He tasted a combination of sweat and sweet, foreign fruit. |
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| Ashes | Aug 5 2009, 10:39 PM Post #5 |
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The pulse beneath pale fingertips quickened eve as she looked back to his face to see amber eyes half hidden behind lazy eyelids. She smiled a little, amused but his expression and the way he was looking up at her. She guessed it must've meant he was okay, if nothing else. Tarot rested his clawed front feet on the end of the wood and rested his chin on them, looking down as his tail flicked too and fro in a quite feline way. Despite the comfort in the trio's appearance there was something in the air, and undeniable welcomeness radiating from the earth beneath their feet. It intrigued, but was readily ignored as Ashes moved to stand only to made wide-eyed by a sudden passionate cry and rather swift sit up. She hadn't seen such life in the man thus far, but was not given much time to dwell on it as a mouth was suddenly pressed demandingly against her own, and a zealous kiss froze her mind for a good few moments. At first she couldn't quite understand what was going on, her mind blocking all comprehension before, slowly, it trickled through. She kissed back, just as suddenly as she had been kissed, and an arm rested lazily on the strangers shoulder. Her own taste was sharp and sweet, hot spiced honey with a hint of snake venom. Admittedly she was seriously considering smacking him and being indignant, but he hadn't made any other moves, and such sweet gestures were rarely offered to lowly rats, (even palace rats). Her hair was flickering different colors, all hot and in the range or reds and pinks and vibrant oranges. Indeed, it would seem the only people who was openly upset about this were mothers covering innocent children's eyes and over-protective fire lizard who roared and took flight, his tail raised as a dangerous weapon. Before he could strike, however, Ashes pulled back both to breath and to cut the kiss short, making it painfully clear she was not an easy girl. Still, she crossed her arms, that mischievous smile still on her lips. “Didn't even buy me a drink.” she teased, standing up and holding out her hand to help him up as a few onlooking boys took the opportunity to jeer and whoop. She called, in more of an amused manner than anything else, “Bugger off!” These boys seemed out to prove something though, no doubt spoiled boys riding on their daddy's coat tails. They couldn't leave quietly, scurrying home to elaborate mansions and shelves full of books. No, instead one (no doubt the leader) had to shout, “Shut up, whore!” Ashes blood went from normal to a figurative boil, green eyes flashing as she glared at the group. “Fuckbrained shite-eaters!” She snapped, which apparently struck some sort of nerve because they had all turned from walking away to walking back. Walking back, it would seem, with a definite and unpleasant purpose. Tarot's tail rose up, the barbs spreading out, ready for a fight. Ashes took a deep gulp out of one of her absinthe flasks. When she deemed them close enough, she spat a huge ribbon of flames at them. When it ended, the boy who had spoken the insult was missing both eyebrows, and the rest were wearing horrified looks. They hadn never considered this girls street tricks could prove as a weapon against their brawn, and it would seem they were now reluctant to find out which would win. “Thats what I thought.” She replied, raising her middle finger and sticking out her tongue before turning back to what she assumed to be her new friend. “Speaking of buying drinks, want to go get one? I'll pay, if you're short on coin.” How often did she get to say that? Obviously not often. At least, not until quite recently. One of the boys was approaching her in what he felt was a very sneaky fashion. The youth was rewarded with a less than merciful mule kick to the groin. He fell to the ground clutching the damaged goods and cursing while Ashes took Roan's wrist and pulled him towards a side street, Tarot flying lazy circles around them. “I'm Ashes, by the way. Ashes Ironheart.” She said as she walked, glancing over at him. He was quiet eccentric to say the least, but then again, wasn't she? In truth she just wanted some company, and he seemed ready enough to give it. This would also present itself as a fine what to get answers about that kiss, and his apparently 'prevailing' love. |
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| Roan | Aug 6 2009, 04:33 PM Post #6 |
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All muscles tightened as he prepared himself for a slap, but it never came. Instead, he could feel the pressure of a less violent, far more pleasing response. The surprise turn of events left him paralyzed, unable to think of what to do next. Thankfully, the dreamgirl took the lead, cutting the public display of affection off before it had a chance to become something more. She did it in a way that was neither uninviting, nor sleazy. Just how a true romance ought to begin. It was unfortunate that he didn't exactly like her, but more the thought of her. The being of chaos opened his eyes finally at her joke, still lazily half-lidded, sedated by the actions that had just transpired. He took the hand that hovered in his face and used it to climb back up onto his feet, from there, dusting his bottom off of all the soot he'd fallen into. The jeers of the pack of males went unnoticed until she started interacting with him. He could only watch as she took care of the situation the way she knew how to. Not a very gentle girl, this way true, but he often looked for the trait in a female companion that would allow them the ability to fight beside him. Still, if she needed backup with the hoodlums, he was prepared. Soon, her attention was back on him, and he beamed down at her from his striking height, simply staring at her for a good, long moment before nodding vigorously. "You don't have to pay for me. I can't drink, but I'd love to talk to you and watch you-" Once again, interrupted by a chaotic circumstance, he was hauled off to the other side of the road before he even had a chance to realize the attempted attack. He stumbled behind her in an attempt to catch up so that she might not have to yank on his arm so much, and nearly tripped several times. "Sehsa," he repeated her name backwards as if it no longer took him any time to re-configure words in such a fashion. "Mine's Roan." Finally able to catch up to where he briskly walked beside her, his wrist inside of her hand rolling about, seeking freedom, and when it was found, he angled that arm, quickly threading her's into the loop so that she may instead hang onto him. The other hand quickly slid his hair from his face, raking it all back and out of the way. The form he took now was so often irritating, having to get used to bangs falling in his face every two seconds. So, he'd successfully engaged a native. Evie will be pleased. He'd have to ask Ashes what was going on around here. Hopefully she'd know a good deal, enough to report later. "...Tsol gnieb etah I..." he muttered quietly, glancing around. "Drinks get to place a is hell the where?" His head turned to her, raising a quizzical brow. "You're the native. Or we could just walk around till one hits us..." |
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| Ashes | Aug 6 2009, 05:06 PM Post #7 |
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Ashes released his wrist as soon as it rolled about in her grip, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure the boys had not decided to follow them. To her satisfaction they seemed to have crawled home to lick their wounds, leaving her and this man- Roan, quite alone. Her hair switched colors for a few brief moments, pale blue to orange, then pausing a moment on her company's rust red, and then switching to her typical hot pink. His arm maneuvered, looping around her own, and it would seem she did not readily know hat to do with such a gesture. She let their arms remain hooked but made no move to hang off him like most girls might. It was a bit surprising to hear her name spoken backwards but she merely responded, “Naor. Got it.” She figured he was just joking. Smoke was billowing out of chimneys from the houses all around, the product of warm hearth fires. The sky was clear, but the night came with a definite chill. Tarot was almost out of sight, glimpsed occasionally as he flew in a dizzy circle around a chimney or dove on what was assumed to be some unlucky toad or rat. When Roan spoke again, Ashes looked up and him and blinked, taking a moment to understand him. She was a clever girl, at least, and it made such word play not only easy but fun. “Like I tavern a theres, road the down.” She replied after just a second, a little choppy as she sort out the words and no where near as fluent as him, but still catching on with impressive quickness. She smiled at him, amused by the game and leading him where she had said they'd go. The tavern's windows were all lit up, and as she pushed open the door a wave of warmth hit them. The sign above the door red, 'Fat Tom's Tavern', and was complete with a faded painting of an overweight tom cat with a rat snoozing on top of its head. She held the door for Roan and moved over to the bar, untangling her arm from his and doing a front flip to end up seated on a stool. “Aye 's lil miss readsalot, neh? What'll ya be 'avin missy?- ah see ya finally brought yer man friend, neh?” True to the title, the bartender doubling as the bar owner was a rather large fellow with wispy gray hair and mustache that hid his whole mouth and muffled his words. It would seem all his hair had migrated from the crown of his head to rest beneath his rather bulbous nose. “Ah, this is Roan, and we just met.” Ashes corrected the man, glancing over at the red-haired man, “I'll have rum... You're sure you can't have anything?” Her eyebrow was quirked, head tilted curiously as her eyes searched his bored expression. He was definitely a strange fellow, but nothing short of likable. |
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| Roan | Aug 6 2009, 05:37 PM Post #8 |
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Speaking his name in the same way he had her's, a smile grew. She caught on quickly. Most just stared at him and would ask him to repeat himself. He took notice that she wasn't holding him in a manner he was accustomed to. Perhaps it's just a gesture they didn't do over here, so he brushed it off as such and reminded himself to teach her later, that is, if he remembered at all. Then again, she surprised him as she took this new way of speaking and made a whole sentence. This playful little act caused the being to completely throw his head back and bellow in laughter. Very few he'd encountered understood right off the bat, and even fewer chose to play along. "Excellent! Gniog teg stel neht, llew!" his laughter faded into little happy sighs before they reached their destination. He walked on through the threshold, taking in the place's surroundings one thing at a time. He did a total three-sixty turn twice, nodding at things he liked. Like a child, he followed her to their respective seats, watching her flip onto her's before he casually just sat down on his. Roan's finger tapped on the bar counter in anticipation, yet he still seemed to be thoroughly analyzing the place. When the bartender arrived, Roan noticeably jumped, obviously so distracted by his surroundings that he hadn't seen the guy walk up. When he realized that there was no threat here, he laughed once, opening his mouth for a big "HAH!" at the tender. He listened closely to what the man had to say, and scoffed towards the end after being called a man-friend, less about the 'friend' part, more the 'man' part. He smiled again at Ashes when she asked him if he was certain, to which he rested one elbow on the counter to lean towards her, the other's hand rising to his face. "It's not that I don't want to," the hand hovered there for a moment. "It's that I actually am incapable." Finally, the hand took action as he opened his mouth wide for her to see. The finger fell inside, and only an inch in, the last joint pivoted up, finger pressed against an unseen wall of the mask fused onto his face till death. "See? It'd come right back out and be a total waste..." The hand lowered. "I'm not human," he smiled brightly once more. "So no, nothing for me, thanks," he said this to the tender and waved a hand in polite dismissal. |
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| Ashes | Aug 6 2009, 08:19 PM Post #9 |
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Tom's eyes grew wide and shifty when Roan let out that one large laugh, but he was not above gawking and leaning forward to watch as this man (well, not-man) proved that he could not partake in the drinking of alcoholic beverages, or apparently any beverages. That to Tom seemed like a huge curse, who could possibly live their lives without beer and ale?! It just couldn't be! What a poor, miserable fellow! He hurried off to get Ashes her tall glass of rum though, filling a huge, heavy tankard knowingly, and ignoring a rat that skittered across the counter, knocking over an empty bottle of gin. Ashes meanwhile was watching intently, head tilting as the finger touched and invisible barrier about an inch deep inside his mouth. Green eyes glinted with curiosity, her head tilting ever so slightly to one side. Her bangs fell into her eyes, and she asked quietly, bluntly, “Then what are you?” Most people probably would've been more tactful, but unless she needed to be manipulative Ashes was in general a very straight forward person. Besides, she didn't ask it in a cruel way, she just wanted to know. After all, he resembled a man, talked and walked and kissed like one. Her drink was set before her with a loud clunk, the contents sloshing over. Her eyes instantly moved over to it, and she used both hands and leaned forward, sipping off the side without lifting the drink in order to keep it from spilling all over her. She wiped her chin with the back of her hand and looked back at Roan, pausing a moment before she asked finally, “Em ssik uoy did yhw, os?” She paused, hesitating as if considering her speech and then nodding, apparently content with the way all her words had sounded. Other people entered the bar, and a group of drunk men playing cards erupted into sudden raucous laughter. Ashes looked over and then back at Roan. She hadn't realized it but she was officially the only female in a large bar full of very drunk men. Not only that, but her drink was bigger than the majority of those surrounding her. That certainly must've said oodles about just what a “lady of quality” she was. Tilting back in her chair she wondered also if Andromalius was back from Eldahar. Still it was just a passing fancy. Another drink, smaller, was set beside her own where tarot was sitting regally, waiting patiently. He instantly wrapped his tale around the glass and began drinking up the beer greedily. “No too much Tom, he couldn't fly a straight line yesterday night and I ended up carrying him home.” The bartender just laughed before moving over to assist one of the new patrons in choosing a drink to start the night off with. |
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| Roan | Aug 6 2009, 09:11 PM Post #10 |
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When the bartender leaned in to get a look at his trick, he tilted his head to give the man a clear view. Tom was right, he was a miserable man. Before the enchanted artifact permanently glued itself to his face, booze was a favorite. Now, he could hardly remember it's wonderful effects, its taste, or the way it warmed the body from the inside out. Lack of a mouth had forbidden him from many of his favorite things... Now, as he just had, if he kissed a girl, it would not be his lips she would be kissing back, but that of a randomized illusion. This mask had also stripped him of his freedom... Roan tilted his head in response at her in the opposite direction when she did, blinking. She asked him a simple question, one that didn't have a simple answer. He didn't mind her blunt interrogation, he spoke much in the same way. Even so, to not be blunt is something that he didn't necessarily realize as polite. Standing in the wilderness where anything could happen at any time, one naturally became blunt for a lack of an appropriate time to communicate. "I am...!" he began energetically, pittering out into a pathetic, "...I don't know. But the drinking thing is a totally different story. Here, I'll make it a little less complicated." Roan stood from his seat, shrugging off the coat he'd been wearing to blend into his environment, and reached down, proceeding to lift his shirt up over his head and toss it to the pile with his coat at his feet. He was a normal bloke beneath his clothing, somewhat toned, somewhat hairy, very human, until hairline cracks began to appear in random places along his figure like the black majesty of Ashes's disease. They eventually collected into one another and the sound like breaking clay began to fill the room, catching the attention of various intrigued patrons. One after the other, great shards of his appearance began to fall to the floor, revealing beneath it an eggshell, almost plastic coating. His nose fell from his face, followed by the mouth that had known her, and the eyes... At the end, exposed for what he really was, he plopped back down on the stool and picked the remaining pieces off which were stuck to him. On his face was a moving mask, expression a fairly contented emotion, before it warped into annoyance at a particular piece of flesh he had to really dig at, and while he was finishing that, she could see his hands. They were backwards, the left on the right and the right on the left. Roan turned his attention back to Ashes, and while the color was fairly the same, one was simply a sea of white while the other possessed an odd tiger's eye design. He rested his elbow on the surface of the counter and set his head on the palm of his hand. "I don't even have a mouth," he told her in a voice of displeasure. His jaws seemed to move as he spoke, but somehow, the sound of his voice was easily overcoming the physical obstacle. Now beside her sat a large and muscular creature, an alien, hairless as a reptile save the rusty red locks on his head that hadn't changed. He didn't really think about how this would go over with the rest of the people in the place. It was always so uncomfortable to be wearing some other kind of skin, and he'd rather not if he didn't have to. "Ssik eht yhw?" his mismatched eyes blinked. "Because I meant to. I'd do it again right now, but I'm afraid you missed your opportunity, Sehsa." Roan's attention dropped to the drink in front of her, staring at it longingly, completely oblivious to what was going on around him now. "I'll let this," he moved his arms around himself, gesturing to his new appearance, "sink in before talking anymore." |
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| Ashes | Aug 6 2009, 09:43 PM Post #11 |
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The crack in his flesh appeared, and Ashes' eyes widened visibly. Under the bandages her own affliction seemed to twinged as if connected directly to her thoughts. Was this the same sort of thing? She watched, amazement and not a single ray of disgust on her face as his flesh fell away. Was hers trying to do the same, and to reveal a truth hidden deep beneath? What was left standing before her though it resembled a man had the long powerful legs of something like a kangaroo, but with feet something like Tarot's. The fire lizard flecked his four toed, one thumbed feet and gripped the edge off his glass, now licking the bottom in hops of getting every last drop. Roan sat down and Ashes leaned closer, inspecting the blankness of his features and that single white eye. Something in her stirred, was it fright? What if she looked like this underneath it all, and all these years she'd been living a lie? She laughed, then smiled, at least she knew, if that were true, she wasn't alone. At his subdued tone the still smiling acrobat reached over picked off a tiny sliver of flesh that was still clinging to the side of his neck. Examining it a moment, she listened to him speak before shaking her head. “One have I'll, kiss a want I if.” She told him and leaned over, kissing where his mouth would've been in a brief sign of defiance. As she pulled back, her hair turned bright orange and she glanced around. Quite a few people had fled the bar during her company's odd transformation, and only the brave or too intoxicated to linger were still hovering over handfuls of bent up cards and half full tankards of sloshing ale. Tom frowned, moving over to give an ecstatic Tarot another glass full of rich dark beer. “Eh ya scared away 'alf mi' customers, lad.” “He isn't a lad.” Ashes scoffed to Tom, playfully, smiling at him, “He's an I-Don't-Know.” Tom quirked and eyebrow and shook his head, topping off her already half-empty glass and saying in a somewhat perturbed way, “Yer one strange gal, missy.” Ashes rolled her eyes and then, looking over at the fellow beside her, she reached over and took both his hands. She looked at them curiously, head tilting as she examined the thumbs on the wrong sides and peered once more that the blank slate of a face. “So,” She asked, no doubt trying to lighten his mood, “Are you right handed or left handed?” |
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| Roan | Aug 6 2009, 10:15 PM Post #12 |
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The defiant kiss had already done enough to lighten his mood. He'd been mildly surprised at her helping him shed his other skin, but when that happened, his eyes went wide, then slowly folded down into their more common half-lidded state. It was a pity he couldn't return the kiss, but he could feel her lips on his face and that was as much as he could ever ask for. As she pulled back, he followed for just a moment, unwilling to sever the touch, until she was too far away for comfort. He slumped back down in his seat then, chuckling quietly. "Em ot teews oot eruoy..." he said dreamily. Roan perked, once again not having seen the tender until he was right there speaking. The creature glanced up at the man, brows raising over the pair of strange eyes, and the muscles of his cheeks tensed as if he were trying to grin or smirk. Ashes did the talking for him. What a bold girl. Young and spry too... probably too young for the standard social practices. Lucky for him, common social practices were worth about as much as pocket lint. "Sorry, Tom. It wasn't my intention. But if you ask me, good riddance. Unloyal customers..." he turned half way around in his seat to shake an angry, balled-up fist at the empty doorway before turning back around. That fist was taken, followed by the other hand. Sitting up to an impressive size, he looked down at what she was doing with him now, his straight locks of hair falling around his face greedily. "Left-handed," he made a face as if to grin. "But I'm pretty good with both." Roan flexed both extremities to prove it, wiggling the thumbs as if to know that that was the most interesting part. His head lifted and his attention went to the glass. "You know, I hear your skin absorbs anything it touches. Maybe if I just stuck my hand in a drink and left it there..." His left brow rose humorously slow. "Oh right!" his head snapped back to her. "Can you tell me what's going on in these parts? I'm supposed to collect some information, see, and am pretty empty-handed on the upper going-ons." As he looked at her, the new fascination in his eyes was replaced by the dreamy look. Without thought, without real reason, the creature leaned towards her once more to try to snag another touch of her lips. He couldn't catch her without a mitt, so it would be quite easy to evade. He was such an easily distracted guy... |
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| Ashes | Aug 6 2009, 11:07 PM Post #13 |
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The dreamy voice made Ashes smile broaden. Not on her lips, but in her eyes, gleaming while her small smile remained. She blushed very, very faintly and shook her head no in response but didn't want to argue more. She felt something swelling up inside her though, something that seemed to urge her to hit him or yell at him or do something that would separate them. It was a familiar sensation, a knowledge that if she did not push him away then she would be the one left alone. Solitude was always better on ones own terms, right? She struggled internally a few moments, the smile leaving her eyes but a small laugh leaving her lips. She was brought back to life as he answered her question and, pleased, she responded, “I'm left handed too, for the most part.” His thumbs wiggled, as if to prove to her that they truly were switched around. In response, she gave his hands both a light squeeze before releasing them. Tom just laughed, his mouth still completely obscured by the rat-sized white mustache on his upper lip as his stomach shook like the elusive Santa Claus' might. He still, after his mirth he looked thoughtful at what this strange man said about putting his hand in alcohol and he immediately set to perusing the shelves for his strongest drink. Ashes had it covered though, standing on the barstool, leaning over the counter to grab a glass. She was precariously balanced, but managed to snatch one of the tankards like her own and set it down on the bar. There was a scraping as she unscrewed one of her flasks of Absinthe and emptied the green contents into the glass, spilling a few drops on the counter. Her eyes made the truthfully bright green substance seem pastel in comparison, leaning down and taking a sip. Tom made a face and a clucking sound, 'Yer supposed to dilute it with sugar and water!!!” Ashes shook her head, “I know, and it turns it white and then its drinkable. Regretfully we're short on pure water, sugar cubes, and a slotted spoon. Not to mention I've been drinking it like this since I was younger and it hasn't kill me yet.” She deposited one of Roan's hand in the glass, partially just joking with the other, but hey, it was worth a try right? Tarot was on his fourth glass and swayed on the counter before just laying his head down and trilling happily. Ashes stroked his back, watching him amused before she tipped her own rum to her lips again and drank quite greedily from the glass. In comparison to the wormwood liquor, the spiced rum tasted quite sweet. His question made her pause, swirling the contents of her glass around. What was she allowed to say? She knew quite a bit, a shadow on the wall of the palace. She turned to speak in time toe see him leaning forward once more with that dreamy look in his mismatched eyes. Amused, she leaned forward and gave him another kiss where his mouth should have been. He was sweet, in his own right. She lingered in the kiss, letting him enjoy it. Then a thought struck her, and she looked annoyed and angry, her whole body language shifting, muscles tensing as she accused, “You're only treating me so nice because you found out I live in the palace, hn? You want me to tell you what the Emperor is planning- you're just trying to use-” The idea of being used had spiked her blood up from a friendly temperature to anger's boil; but she didn't have time to linger and beautiful darkness dripped from beneath white linen, running to pool suddenly on the bar and Ashes cried out in pain. The cry was followed by terrible, mirthless and quite frantic laughter as she held her arm tightly and grit her teeth. She fell sideways off her barstool, her cries falling silent for a moment as she laid there, the stabbing agony left just as the edges of her vision had started to blur and black. Tarot peered upset over the edge of the bar at her, head swimming, not daring to take flight or jump down to help her. |
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| Roan | Aug 7 2009, 12:04 AM Post #14 |
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He payed little attention to the frenzy of getting him the strongest drink readily available, even as his hand was placed into the glass of liquid that burned a little bit. After he did his asking, what he was supposed to be doing all this time, and met her mouth once again, he savored it, closing his eyes to wander off into dreamland where love would again prevail. She was so pretty, so scrappy, so utterly adorable that he was powerless against her. He wished she came travel-sized... Her pet could come too. Maybe she can ride it. For the first time, he made a move to make this something more than just a sweet peck, dry hand rising, seeking the side of her face. The thumb on the wrong side would no doubt feel very strange, but she wouldn't get a chance to witness it. Instead, she tore away in anger, unleashing a slew of accusations as him that caused him to sit straight up and blink about a million times. "Hu-what? Palace? Emperor? Ashes!" the first time he said her name right was the first time he saw the affects of her affliction, crying out as blackness stained the wooden surface she held herself against. Then laughter came, and he wasn't quite sure what to do until she began to wobble. Roan was there beneath her before she could hit the ground, massive legs splayed out in something of a very low battle stance, oddly supporting both him and her. He kept her to his chest with a single strong arm, looking down at her frantically for any signs of how to go about helping her. "Er, don't struggle. Can you tell me what's wrong? With your arm?" As he said this, the black substance began to drip over his hand, the one he used to hold her. He didn't know the first thing about fixing people other than to distract them, but since it looked like emotional distress was what got her into this, he didn't want to make it any worse. |
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| Ashes | Aug 7 2009, 12:01 PM Post #15 |
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Ashes felt her body shift, her own body weight suddenly too much for her muscles to handle thus sending her toppling sideways. Here eyes closed tightly, braced as much as she could to feel the floor fly up to greet her. Imagine her surprise when, instead, a single strong arm flew out and saved her from such a fate. The dark elegance the slipped down her arm seemed the tantalize Tom, glimmering in the light of the torches that lit the bar area. Her glass had fallen to one side, the huge amount of rum pouring off the counter before reducing to a drip drip drip into a puddle on the floor. Tarot, very drunk and very upset beat his wings but didn't dare take flight, helplessly watching as the pain started to ebb and her mind cleared slowly. In the absence of complex thought she had instinctively curled against the body holding her up, one hand dripping his shoulder tightly as if afraid of being dropped. Her hair had turned a dull gray, but as she seemed to reanimate the hot pink color returned. Lastly, her eyes flickered open, looking up at him blearily, she laughed again, the same hollow sound and tried to push away, “Don't worry, I'm alright.” She slid back, leaning on her stool, suddenly feeling quite drained but knowing her usual zealousness and vigor would return soon enough. She glanced at him and then fumbled to untie the stained white linen on her upper arm. One last drop of obsidian disease fell to the floor, into the pool of rum. It would not mix with the liquid, like ink in water. Green eyes, looked tiredly at Tarot, pulling the fire-lizard to herself like a little girl might hold a teddy bear or kitten. She looked at Roan, eyes glinting, watching his reaction to the now visible black cracks spreading across her skin, like she too might be shedding her flesh to reveal something new beneath it. Tom looked nervous, but short of anything else to do he just gawked. The whole bar had gone silent. Finally, the pink-haired performer told the jolly bartender, “I'm going to need a refill.” She smiled at him. He hesitated, but nodded, refilling the glass. She drank deeply from it. It was like an invisible wall had risen up between them, not of her own free will but in her nature. A sort of self defense technique. Finally she spoke, “Thanks, for catching me... but I wont be your tool against Andromalius.” She twitched, another single hairline crack appearing as she clapped a hand over the Shatterglass sickness, unable to prevent the flinch that came with the sharp pain it inflicted on her. |
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| Roan | Aug 7 2009, 10:23 PM Post #16 |
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At last, she spoke, reassuring him that she would be alright. He was very relieved, as he felt rather helpless and pitiful that he could do nothing but hold onto her. The emissary's arms fell from around her when she moved to push away, offering no resistance. He hovered there, still sprawled out on the floor with his powerful legs, just waiting for another episode to attack her to catch her again, but when he was fairly certain that wouldn't happen, he rose to stand and found his seat again, all the while carefully watching her with the one gem-like eye. For a good long while afterward, until she spoke directly to him again, he was busy staring at the pool of beautiful oil that had come from her and now lazily waited on the bar counter. A shy finger went to poke it, bringing back with it to his face a nice shiny coating. He curiously rubbed it between his fingers, then turned his head back to her. It obviously caused her pain, so it couldn't possibly be a concealment spell, or anything of her own doing unless she was a glorified masochist. To hear she needed a refill made him relax a bit more, leaning back in his seat while shifting into a better, more comfortable position. As Ashes drank, he took the time to finally make a good evaluation of her little friend currently being cuddled up against her. Drunk little dragon... The mask on his face attempted a slight smile. "I don't know who Andromalius is," he responded flatly, shifting the one eye back up to connect with those tired bright greens. "And unless this person is significant, I don't really care. You've got the wrong idea, Sweetheart." This pet name was used affectionately, not in a sarcastic tone. Roan's left hand plopped itself back into the glass of pure absinthe, still attempting to get something out of it, while he rested his chin is a propped-up right hand. "I'm not from around here, see, so I have no earthly idea how you people live or maintain yourselves. This place is called Morrim, this is the big city in it where everyone who's anyone lives, there are divided nations... That's about all I have. It'd be great if you could tell me who the big shot here and there is, if there are any conflicts I might want to avoid... If you know anything about what's to come, that'd be perfect." Evie would be proud, probing like a champ. "Oh, and is this stuff contagious?" Roan nodded to her arm. |
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| Ashes | Aug 13 2009, 02:04 PM Post #17 |
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The momentary lack of vocals was a gift. The sound of small talons clicking on the bar top and strong drink sloshing as it was poured to fill her tankard to the brim. She took it with both hands and attempted to drown all lingering pain with it. Grown men sitting around paused to stare as she guzzled the drink like a dying man in the dessert might imbibe water. A little trickled from the corner of her mouth, scarcely breathing as the richness of the spiced realm overwhelmed her senses. Finally she dropped the tankard back to the counter. A few fugitive drops lingered, but besides them the very large, rather heavy tankard was empty of rum, just as her body was empty of all but a few momentary pangs of pain. Her eyes turned back to odd friend as he spoke, wiping her face absently with the back of her hand. Her arms scooped the drunken firelizard off the counter and into her lap, stroking his ridged back and snakishly smooth black scales. Her green eyes turned to his own, mismatched. The plain of his face, a blank canvas full of movement and life. He called her sweetheart, and her head tilted. Often times the whores had been called things like 'darling' and 'sweetheart' the same way she often referred to people as, 'hun' and 'sugar'. It made her smiled a little, the absence of sarcasm was enough to curve the corners of her lips. ”But Andromalius is important.” She scratched Tarot under the chin, her hair was changing tones while she picked a stray deck off the counter and started shuffling them. She knew enough tricks with them that the barkeep stopped washing glasses to look over at her as she did a trick that made it seem the cards were flying from one hand to the other. “I'm not from around here myself, but nowadays I live in the palace... Andromalius is the big shot while the empress is away and I wouldn't bet a rats ass that she's coming back anytime soon.” She paused in her tricks, drawing cards absently out of the deck. A joker, a queen of spades, and a a king of hearts that had had ink spilled on it. No wonder the deck had been abandoned here, she eyes the card and found the edge darkened, as will as droplets over the eyes. She tilted her head, how oddly fitting of a draw it was. She glanced over at Roan and shrugged his shoulders, “I know as much about the future as anyone else,” she glanced up as Tom dropped a pint glass for beer. It shattered on the floor, and for just a moment she was transfixed, before she looked back at finished, “Nothing. At least, nothing for certain.” She wasn't going to tell him anything she might later regret. |
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