You intro was beautiful, by the way!
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Numbers were always tracing about in his head. For as long as Kiaran could remember, that had been the case; he would count anything that he could, then count it again, then again if there was nothing else to do. Numbers just floated in his mind. They stuck there, too- when he was a boy, apples were sixteen silver pieces per. Now, they were twenty two silver pieces per, but that was beside the point. The point was that Kiaran knew his numbers. He knew that it had been eight years, three months, two weeks, and five days since he had been caught.
He also knew that he had one more year, one month, two weeks, and three days until he was a free man again. He recalled that his magic ring had cost eight gold pieces. He remembered that he had used it for two years, eight months, three weeks, and six days until he was caught. Now, he was here. He was a servant. He was nothing. To be fair, it wasn't entirely different from how things had been before- but at least there, he controlled his own nothingness. Here, Kiaran was ordered around and sneered at. The entire staff knew why he was there, and they looked down on him for it. Many of them were serving in repentance for petty crimes, too, but apparently they were his better because they hadn't used magic.
Or, at the very least, they hadn't been caught using it. Some had gloated and teased him about that, though Kiaran doubted the truth of what they said. Either way, it didn't matter. Kiaran was teased, though tolerated, but that was the best of his welcome. Even now, he took his simple meal- leftovers from the royal family's lavish food- and promptly left the kitchen with his bowl of bits. He went to an ugly, unused part of the garden to eat. His meal was silent, and numbers danced in his head. He shut his eyes, then opened them again; part of a still pool was in this little bit of flora, so the servant peered into it.
What did he expect to see? Something different? Some benevolent, magical lady who would take him away from here, and return him to the bliss that was the magic he once knew? No, that was asinine. All that Kiaran saw in the water was himself: dark skin and only a stubble of black hair growing over his scalp, dark eyes- angry eyes, perhaps- and muscles and scars under his loose, tan vest. His legs would have been in a similar state, if he looked at them, under his tan breeches. Kiaran wore know boots, leaving his feet as calloused and tough as the palms of his hands.
Kiaran did mostly physical work; it was due to that that his clothing was so open. He did not usually need to be presentable, which suited him well. Kiaran had been a lumber worker, once, before coming here. Now he did yard work, mostly, and cared for animals when bid to do so, but all of it was physical work.
But he didn't bother to spent much time reflecting on that- after all, he worked well with numbers, not memories. Or at least, not ones like those. So, finished with his meal, Kiaran stood and went to the kitchen, and returned the bowl. His day was over, and he was ready to return to his quarters, when an annoyed butler stopped him. "You," he'd said, with an aggressive point. "Find Princess Isobel, would you? It is late, and her highness needs her rest." After receiving a grunt of recognition from Kiaran, the butler left, and the servant swore under his breath. She could be anywhere! He could spend all night looking for her.
But perhaps luck was with him, for a maid, beating a rug, paused to look up at him. "I sa' 'er goin' t' th' westurn towa," the girl said. Kiaran thanked her, and started for it. That was certainly a start, and it was nice to hear someone not tease him about the ring he'd had, for once. The tower was four hundred seventy two steps away, and contained three hundred sixty four steps. It was strange that Isobel would come here; this tower was mostly empty, save for some store room supplies on the lower level, as far as Kiaran was aware. But royalty was strange, and he was certainly out of any sort of loops.
He reached the top door and would have knocked, but curiosity took hold of him instead. He peered through the keyhole. The princess was looking at the door, nervously, then turned away, and conjoured a chair. Magic! The princess, using magic! In shock, Kiaran was frozen for a moment, and in that moment, Isobel sat down into her new chair and shut her eyes. Kiaran straightened up, and considered his options: he could confront her, or he could use this... No, that was risky. Who would believe his word over hers?
But he could try. So, fearlessly, Kiaran opened the door. "Princess Isobel?"
He also knew that he had one more year, one month, two weeks, and three days until he was a free man again. He recalled that his magic ring had cost eight gold pieces. He remembered that he had used it for two years, eight months, three weeks, and six days until he was caught. Now, he was here. He was a servant. He was nothing. To be fair, it wasn't entirely different from how things had been before- but at least there, he controlled his own nothingness. Here, Kiaran was ordered around and sneered at. The entire staff knew why he was there, and they looked down on him for it. Many of them were serving in repentance for petty crimes, too, but apparently they were his better because they hadn't used magic.
Or, at the very least, they hadn't been caught using it. Some had gloated and teased him about that, though Kiaran doubted the truth of what they said. Either way, it didn't matter. Kiaran was teased, though tolerated, but that was the best of his welcome. Even now, he took his simple meal- leftovers from the royal family's lavish food- and promptly left the kitchen with his bowl of bits. He went to an ugly, unused part of the garden to eat. His meal was silent, and numbers danced in his head. He shut his eyes, then opened them again; part of a still pool was in this little bit of flora, so the servant peered into it.
What did he expect to see? Something different? Some benevolent, magical lady who would take him away from here, and return him to the bliss that was the magic he once knew? No, that was asinine. All that Kiaran saw in the water was himself: dark skin and only a stubble of black hair growing over his scalp, dark eyes- angry eyes, perhaps- and muscles and scars under his loose, tan vest. His legs would have been in a similar state, if he looked at them, under his tan breeches. Kiaran wore know boots, leaving his feet as calloused and tough as the palms of his hands.
Kiaran did mostly physical work; it was due to that that his clothing was so open. He did not usually need to be presentable, which suited him well. Kiaran had been a lumber worker, once, before coming here. Now he did yard work, mostly, and cared for animals when bid to do so, but all of it was physical work.
But he didn't bother to spent much time reflecting on that- after all, he worked well with numbers, not memories. Or at least, not ones like those. So, finished with his meal, Kiaran stood and went to the kitchen, and returned the bowl. His day was over, and he was ready to return to his quarters, when an annoyed butler stopped him. "You," he'd said, with an aggressive point. "Find Princess Isobel, would you? It is late, and her highness needs her rest." After receiving a grunt of recognition from Kiaran, the butler left, and the servant swore under his breath. She could be anywhere! He could spend all night looking for her.
But perhaps luck was with him, for a maid, beating a rug, paused to look up at him. "I sa' 'er goin' t' th' westurn towa," the girl said. Kiaran thanked her, and started for it. That was certainly a start, and it was nice to hear someone not tease him about the ring he'd had, for once. The tower was four hundred seventy two steps away, and contained three hundred sixty four steps. It was strange that Isobel would come here; this tower was mostly empty, save for some store room supplies on the lower level, as far as Kiaran was aware. But royalty was strange, and he was certainly out of any sort of loops.
He reached the top door and would have knocked, but curiosity took hold of him instead. He peered through the keyhole. The princess was looking at the door, nervously, then turned away, and conjoured a chair. Magic! The princess, using magic! In shock, Kiaran was frozen for a moment, and in that moment, Isobel sat down into her new chair and shut her eyes. Kiaran straightened up, and considered his options: he could confront her, or he could use this... No, that was risky. Who would believe his word over hers?
But he could try. So, fearlessly, Kiaran opened the door. "Princess Isobel?"
Aw, that's a shame. But at least you got something done; that's certainly more than I can say.
(Indeed we are. It's a very malignant plot against you, you see.)
(Indeed we are. It's a very malignant plot against you, you see.)
I hope your busy weekend was at least a good one? c:
Had she heard correctly? Xalia was guessing at best, but if she didn't know, she would have thought that he was stuck. True enough, she could see the tip of a boot from under the bush that sealed away her little alcove. After some tugs, the owner of the boot sat down on the ground, from the sounds of it. The witch started to breath, slowly. Perhaps she was the one who was the predator! There wasn't much that Xalia could do with a hostage, admittedly, but it was still a better option than praying to a murdered god that she stay hidden.
With as little disturbance as she could make, Xalia opened her satchel and pulled out a small knife. It was more suited for cutting fruits and plants than it was for cutting flesh, but it was still a sharp weapon. Carefully, the witch placed the wooden handle into Junedith's open palm. The girl, as though she were shocked by the wall behind her, jerked to life. Her small hand tightened around the knife, and she poised herself on the balls of her feet at the entrance of their hole.
"Catch them. Try not to harm them," Xalia said, under her breath. Junedith did not acknowledge that she heard the command, but rather jumped out of the hole. It was rather awkward, as the child had to adjust herself sideways once in sight, but she had surprise with her and knelt on the man's chest with the knife against his neck, completely expressionless. Xalia crawled out after her, a moment later, and kneeled next to the man's head. She grinned down at him. "What can you offer me?"
With as little disturbance as she could make, Xalia opened her satchel and pulled out a small knife. It was more suited for cutting fruits and plants than it was for cutting flesh, but it was still a sharp weapon. Carefully, the witch placed the wooden handle into Junedith's open palm. The girl, as though she were shocked by the wall behind her, jerked to life. Her small hand tightened around the knife, and she poised herself on the balls of her feet at the entrance of their hole.
"Catch them. Try not to harm them," Xalia said, under her breath. Junedith did not acknowledge that she heard the command, but rather jumped out of the hole. It was rather awkward, as the child had to adjust herself sideways once in sight, but she had surprise with her and knelt on the man's chest with the knife against his neck, completely expressionless. Xalia crawled out after her, a moment later, and kneeled next to the man's head. She grinned down at him. "What can you offer me?"
Mmmmmmhm
Though the child never responded to anything but an order, Xalia still found comfort in muttering to her dolls through the night and day. "Nearly day, now, Junedith," she cooed to the suspiciously clean, blonde girl behind her. The child, who looked to be no older than eight or nine years, wore a simple blue dress and a neutral expression. She said nothing. "I need to stop and sleep." But there brought about the trouble of finding some place safe to do so; no matter how off the beaten path the witch and her doll were, it was suspicious to find a woman and a girl alone, sleeping, with nothing but themselves and Xalia's brown satchel of books, and her now small, unanimated doll. If someone were to find them, death would be immediate for Xalia. "I really ought to find somewhere to settle," she mused, as she and Junedith walked. They had been traveling without any direction for some time now- weeks, perhaps?
Still Junedith said nothing. Xalia never expected her to, but paused to look at her, and point at an area of the cliff wall they were walking along. "Do you see that?" The girl looked at the wall, then at Xalia, blankly. "There is a divet, behind those leaves." She started to it, and pushed back various foliage to expose a space just large enough for herself and Junedith to enter, so long as they crawled. Had it not existed, Xalia would have theoretically been able to push at the cliff wall to make it, but the effort would have been overtaxing. The witch would have passed out, or died, had she attempted to do so much in the condition she was in. Junedith came and held the leaves and small bush back while the witch crawled in. Xalia managed to sit, albeit hunched, and face the entrance. "Come."
Junedith followed without a word. The bush and leaves swayed as the child let them go to sit. She sat along a side, with her legs stretched across the width of the small area. The two met eyes, and the girl went limp; the half life that had been in her eyes vanished, and she slumped. The witch's smile was replaced by an expression of shock a moment later; she could hear someone walking. An animal? But taking that chance was still a risk. She raised a hand towards the flora at the entrance of her little cave; instantly, it stilled, but perhaps whoever was out there was close enough and saw it. Did I remember to dissolve our tracks? Xalia couldn't remember, but it was most likely too late to remedy that, now. She hadn't sensed anyone; they must have come from the other direction. The witch threw a glamour of darkness across Junedith and herself, and held her breath, but felt fear. If they were smart, they would find her; she had to hope that she would be smart enough to escape if the situation turned deadly.
Still Junedith said nothing. Xalia never expected her to, but paused to look at her, and point at an area of the cliff wall they were walking along. "Do you see that?" The girl looked at the wall, then at Xalia, blankly. "There is a divet, behind those leaves." She started to it, and pushed back various foliage to expose a space just large enough for herself and Junedith to enter, so long as they crawled. Had it not existed, Xalia would have theoretically been able to push at the cliff wall to make it, but the effort would have been overtaxing. The witch would have passed out, or died, had she attempted to do so much in the condition she was in. Junedith came and held the leaves and small bush back while the witch crawled in. Xalia managed to sit, albeit hunched, and face the entrance. "Come."
Junedith followed without a word. The bush and leaves swayed as the child let them go to sit. She sat along a side, with her legs stretched across the width of the small area. The two met eyes, and the girl went limp; the half life that had been in her eyes vanished, and she slumped. The witch's smile was replaced by an expression of shock a moment later; she could hear someone walking. An animal? But taking that chance was still a risk. She raised a hand towards the flora at the entrance of her little cave; instantly, it stilled, but perhaps whoever was out there was close enough and saw it. Did I remember to dissolve our tracks? Xalia couldn't remember, but it was most likely too late to remedy that, now. She hadn't sensed anyone; they must have come from the other direction. The witch threw a glamour of darkness across Junedith and herself, and held her breath, but felt fear. If they were smart, they would find her; she had to hope that she would be smart enough to escape if the situation turned deadly.
I am a liar. So, so, so sorry! My niece had karate on Friday and I was busy Saturday, sorry, didn't mean to make you wait so long!
Name: Xalia
Age: 31
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:
Physical Description: Xalia is pale and physically weak from her lifestyle. She walks with something of a hunch and has an always tired look in her brown eyes, with dark bags under them. The witch is small, both in stature and in weight, and her dark hair is rather rough and frazzled from living as she does.
Personality: On a basic level, Xalia's personality focuses around her own survival. It could be argued that she is amoral, a she will lie, cheat, steal, and do anything that she must in order to meet her base requirements. She is also distrustful of most around her, but power hungry and willing to work with others if there is a discernible benefit to herself at the end of said partnership. SHe will do this even if it means stabbing her partner in the back to take what she wants.
History: As a child, Xalia lived in one of the few villages that still did not accept the Solarian's way. Her home was raided, and those not killed were forced into slavery to build a great tower of worship. Xalia grew up in that slavery, but those around her that knew magic taught what they could to her. She would steal scrolls and books, too, when she could, to learn more. Eventually, she escaped. She's been living as a traveling, hiding hermit ever since, eager to seek revenge on the religion but unsure how she, as one woman, would go about doing so.
Skills: Xalia is skilled at magic. She is also skilled in survival arts- hunting, seeking safe shelter, hiding, etc.
Some Notes: Xalia keeps two human sized, human looking puppets with her at all times. She calls them her dolls. They can't die, but are taxing to maintain, so she does not keep both of them active unless she needs to.
Meredith was actually a doll that Xalia animated; Junedith was the corpse of a sacrificed girl that she found and reanimated. Both resemble people only in appearance, but do not act like people.
Age: 31
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:
Physical Description: Xalia is pale and physically weak from her lifestyle. She walks with something of a hunch and has an always tired look in her brown eyes, with dark bags under them. The witch is small, both in stature and in weight, and her dark hair is rather rough and frazzled from living as she does.
Personality: On a basic level, Xalia's personality focuses around her own survival. It could be argued that she is amoral, a she will lie, cheat, steal, and do anything that she must in order to meet her base requirements. She is also distrustful of most around her, but power hungry and willing to work with others if there is a discernible benefit to herself at the end of said partnership. SHe will do this even if it means stabbing her partner in the back to take what she wants.
History: As a child, Xalia lived in one of the few villages that still did not accept the Solarian's way. Her home was raided, and those not killed were forced into slavery to build a great tower of worship. Xalia grew up in that slavery, but those around her that knew magic taught what they could to her. She would steal scrolls and books, too, when she could, to learn more. Eventually, she escaped. She's been living as a traveling, hiding hermit ever since, eager to seek revenge on the religion but unsure how she, as one woman, would go about doing so.
Skills: Xalia is skilled at magic. She is also skilled in survival arts- hunting, seeking safe shelter, hiding, etc.
Some Notes: Xalia keeps two human sized, human looking puppets with her at all times. She calls them her dolls. They can't die, but are taxing to maintain, so she does not keep both of them active unless she needs to.
Meredith was actually a doll that Xalia animated; Junedith was the corpse of a sacrificed girl that she found and reanimated. Both resemble people only in appearance, but do not act like people.
No worries, it's perfect! Anything is game, really, but I did imagine that they would focus on fire over other elements.
I will get a reply up either later tonight, or before I leave school!
I will get a reply up either later tonight, or before I leave school!
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