Alaira did feel a bit happier that Aramir decided to take her up on her offer. She had an... effect on most people. "Just as well, those damn Gargoyles are usually assholes." She said. They walked for a time, Alaira pointing out places of interest, usually along with a story of some kind or some other comment. "The dining hall's just down that hallway, you can't miss it. Remember that guy from earlier, tall dark and armored? He sat in a chair in there once and the damn thing exploded into splinters. Of course, I laughed so he made me clean it up... I tell ya, it's not just bad luck, something up there is pissed." "Most of the dorms are around here. Try not to be on the first floor, the Golems patrol there and those things are pretty damn loud." "Apparently, most alchemical concoctions explode if you drop em. and they're expensive. Avoid Lucillia." After a while, they passed through a particularly long and featureless corridor. Since there wasn't anything to say, she figured she might try this small talk thing out. "So, what brings you here anyway? what can you do?" She asked the girl, the enormous difference in size meaning she basically had to look downward.
Aramir merely smiled as Alaira commented on the personalities of the gargoyles. The forest elf was certainly..abrasive, but there was a certain quality about her that made the Snow Elf like her. Maybe it was the fact that Alaira was the one who helped her after her panicked dash, or maybe it was something else. Regardless, as the two elves wandered the halls, Alaira pointing out and commenting on the various things. Aramir didn't respond just smiled and listened, chuckling gently every so often. The first floor was the loudest hmm? Better make a point to get a dorm there... She mentally noted, before being brought back to the current conversation by Alaira's questions. She hesitated, the silence stretching out as she debated how much to tell the other Elf.
She's only known Alaira for a few minutes, and didn't feel like bringing up the past and the pity that came with it. What she could do, however, was far simpler to explain. "I'm here simply because I've no where else to go...as for what I can do...well, I can create a blue spark for a short amount of time. So, I can start a fire easily enough. Other than that..well, that's why I'm here at the College, isn't it? To learn how to control my magic." And to forget the past.. She added silently. Brightening from the slight souring her past had brought up, she craned her neck up to Alaira. "What brings you here, besides learning your mageblood that is...what is your mageblood anyways?"
"Heh, watch this." Alaira said in response to Aramir's question. To Aramir's great relief, Alaira was not nearly adept enough at social interactions to pick up on her worries, so she had chosen to demonstrate her power rather than ask her what was really wrong. She took a moment to prepare and pointed her lance at a nearby stone wall. With a thunderous noise, a lightning bolt issued forth, scorching the stonework black. The force of the bolt had pushed Alaira back a bit, who was doubled over, gasping for air. "How... *Huff* was that?... I'm here because..." The Berserker braced herself against the wall as she caught her breath. After half a minute, she was at least rested enough to speak again. "I'm here because I want to learn how to do that more than once, so I don't go starting more fights I can't win..." She said. Unfortunately for Alaira, it was far more difficult for her to hide her feelings.
Aramir's puzzlement at what Alaira was actually doing with her staff quickly changed when the lightning bolt issued from it, causing the Snow Elf eyes to visibly start in surprise. Not so much from the noise, as from the unexpectedness of a lightning bolt shooting from the staff. Her own experience with magic was minimal, at best. She stared, wide-eyed, at the scorched stonework for a few moments while Alaira regained her energy from the display. As she stared, a metal bird flew by, chirping irritably at Alaira as it did so. Aramir came back to her senses as Alaira explained what she was doing here, picking up easily on the tone of voice. She stared up at the forest elf(her neck now only aching dully, apparently resigned to it's fate.), concerned. Quietly, she asked, "What happened?" If she couldn't put her own problems to rest, she could at least try and help others do it. Which would be funny, in a grim way. The one who had her own problems that refused to die and kept her up all the time, until her body finally shut down against her will, was helping others recover from their problems. It was almost enough to make Aramir chuckle.
To her credit, Alaira had finally managed to notice how Aramir was practically forced to look directly up to speak to her. So, the Berserker sat against the wall, which brought her to about eye-level with the snow elf. She was doing her best to ignore the construct that flew by. Yeah, yeah, whatever. It's not like I broke anything. She thought. Alaira was taken a bit by surprise when Aramir asked her question. How did people keep doing that? She certainly wasn't a psychomancer... Alaira appeared deep in thought for a moment, before her trademark smirk returned. "What didn't happen?" She said softly, gazing off into nowhere. "For as long as I've known, I've been rushing right into fights, not a care in the world..." She absentmindedly brought her hand up to the deep scars on her cheek. "Everytime I lost, I'd limp away going 'when I get just a little stronger I'll be back!' but a week and a day ago I fought this Drake. Ever seen a drake?" She said, finally making eye contact again. "it's like a wingless dragon. So it kicks my ass, and I just barely manage to make it out of the cave and run off in some random direction. a few hours later, I collapse in front of this place. Don't ask me how I got here, I can't remember..." She took a moment to put her arms behind her head. "And you know, I learned something. You can't get any stronger by yourself. So that's why I'm still here, instead of out there."
Aramir gave a small sigh of relief as she could finally look straight at Alaira rather than straight up. Her neck was certainly grateful, the dull aching almost stopping completely. She listened quietly as Alaira began to explain, only shaking her head in a mute negative when asked if she's ever seen a drake. Dragons definitely wouldn't like the Frozen Plains, and she somehow doubted that drakes would live there. It was too cold for anything but the most stubborn or the strongest to survive in. She still wasn't sure which her race, the Snow Elves, was. Personally, she was leaning towards the most stubborn. A memory stirred, of happier times in her tribe, at the Forest Elf's final words. One of the tenants of her tribe. It came back slowly, but Aramir remembered it all. Softly, she recited, "The strength of the Tribe comes from the Individual. The strength of the Individual comes from the Tribe." It was one of the few memories she had left that wasn't tainted by the night of bloodshed and betrayal, along with her memory of receiving her tattoos. . That night could take many things from her, but there were some things it would never take.
Alaira heard the snow elf's words, but chose not to comment. Alaira herself hated talking about the past, and had chosen to leave out just why she needed to get stronger. She was no hypocrite, she understood the value of privacy. "Anyway, we should probably get going, wouldn't want to miss dinner, would we?" With taht, she got up to continue their quest, motioning for Aramir to follow. After a while, she spoke again. "Hey, if you don't mind me asking, how'd you get here?" She said. Noticing that maybe a little more context to the question would be appreciated, she added "I mean, the frosted plains are pretty far north, and I remember there being too many roads that lead here. Luck? Or can you fight?" Well, the conversation was bound to reach the topic of violence at some point.
Aramir nodded in agreement, smiling slightly. Her neck would certainly begin complaining as the Forest Elf rose, but at least they were moving again. Both away from a delicate subject, and closer to the prospect of dinner. When you've spent a long year scavenging in a strange, unfamiliar land and only occasionally being helped out by natives, anything promising to be a feast would set your mouth watering at the merest suggestion. Fortunately, Aramir was well-mannered enough to keep herself from drooling in public. In private was another matter entirely. After a few minutes of walking(silence still being blissfully beat back by the music that seemed to be all around them), Alaira spoke again, asking how she had arrived to the College. It was several more minutes before Aramir responded. How was easy enough. Why was a lot harder, and something she didn't want to explain for a while yet. Never, preferably.
"It's not that I'm lucky," She gestured to the sewn up portions of her vest, the side where the dagger had been plunged and the back where a sword had slashed at her, as way of explanation. "and I wouldn't say it was because I can fight my way out of any situation. I come from the Frozen Plains, as you well know. It's a harsh, merciless place, where only the extremely stubborn or the strong survive. We lost people yearly, sometimes monthly, in my Tribe. The old, the young, the sick. When I left the lands I traveled to, while having their own dangers, seemed rather...relaxed, compared to the dangers of the Plains. So, rather than luck or extreme skill at fighting, it's because I'm a survivor. You have to be, coming from the Plains." She had, rather pointedly, left why she left out of her explanation.
"While I'm on the subject of the Plains, I believe it's time I explained why I freaked out back in the courtyard." She hesitated, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. After all, who had ever heard of someone being afraid or silence? "The Plains are trapped in an eternal blizzard. The wind is constantly howling, ice is cracking, snow drifts building and toppling. Noise is everywhere, and I grew up in the chaos of that. I was taught, from a young age, that the only time that there would be silence or anything close to silence was when I was dead or dying. So..." She hesitated again. Finally, she just blurted it out. "I'm terrified of silence. Anything quiet, or too close to it, and I get more and more uncomfortable till I panic..like in the courtyard.
"Yeah, you'd have to be a tough bastard to live up there year-round." Alaira replied. While she had never been there for an extended period of time, she had been up there once or twice in her travels. It was not a happy place, that's for damn sure. At hearing about the comparitively lesser dangers of other places, she couldn't help but speak up. "Oh, there are worse places than the frozen plains. Ever heard of the scorchlands? Horrible place. Everythings on fire, volcanoes, and the worst part? Just being there makes you sick!" She said. She did not have a good time in the Scorch lands, that's for damn sure. The memories weren't traumatic or anything, but it certainly was not a good time. "No joke! I was camping out in these ruins for a week and I'd never felt so, err, weak in my life. I was lucky a passing trade caravan managed to find me..." She said, her voice trailing off, in more of an 'end of the story' way than anything.
"Silence? Never thought someone could be scared of that!" Alaira said, laughing. Not a malicious laugh, but laughing nonetheless. She noticed that she was probably not doing wonders for the girl there, and actually tried to fix things. "Hey, don't worry. We're all scared of stupid crap. Take me for example..." The berserker just kind of trailed off. She couldn't really find the words to explain her fear, and at the same time her pride worked against her as well. It was a moment before she spoke again. "Caves. Underground, really tiny rooms, I can't stand it. It feels like the walls will come down and grind me to paste..." She had a hard time saying it, as if the mere thought of those things was too much for her. She quickly shook herself out of it, however. "And I was never to fond of quiet either. That is, unless I'm trying to sleep! I swear, that damn necromancer is making sure those golems go stomping around near my room."
Aramir nodded. It was a harsh land, but it was still home. Or had been, until it had been soaked in the blood of her tribe tearing itself apart. Home died the same time her tribe did. Now...now she was here. Learning how to control a Mageblood she wasn't even fully aware she had. As Alaira went off into a minor story of the Scorched lands, Aramir listened, smiling slightly. "I'll be sure to keep away from there. I don't do good in heat. Being sickened by the land itself as well...yeah. I'll stay to the lands I know." Truth be told, she was worried what would happen when true summer hit these lands. Summer in the plains was most days were barely above zero degrees, and nights were only barely below zero degrees. Here, she was told, it got quite uncomfortable if you weren't used to the land's weather or weather like it. But, this was a mage College. She certainly wasn't going to die of overheating..she hoped.
As Alaira began to laugh, Aramir felt her cheeks coloring again. Well, she had expected it, but she had also owed the Forest Elf an explanation as to why she had freaked out earlier. Then, Alaira began to explain her own fear, perhaps in an attempt to make up for laughing at her. Aramir listened, before offering a small comment. "We'll get over it. Or, at the very least, learn how to control them so they don't control us." The last comment was puzzling though. "Necromancer? You mean Uicle?" That was the only teacher's name she knew...
"Aye, Uicle." Alaira said. Uicle was more or less elected to be the one responsible for her since she arrived, as nobody else much wanted to do it. This can also be interpreted as horrible luck, or unbeknownst to her at least, divine meddling. Therefore, whenever she broke something or she done goofed, it was Uicle's responsibility to fix it. This usually soured the Necromancers mood considerably, and perhaps in petty vengeance seeing as he can't actually harm her until she does something malevolent, he's made sure to make his Golems extra annoying. Or perhaps it was because she spilled that bucket of paint on the dog-type one a few days ago...
"Yeah, he's the guy that makes all the golems around here. I remember he tried to scare me with these knives. See, he'd gotten himself stabbed in a bunch of places, but I doubt he expected me to laugh and walk off." At Aramir's no doubt horrified expression, she added "Hey, people tend to bleed when they get stabbed. Though I didn't mention that did I?" Whether Alaira intentionally left out that crucial bit or not is anyone's guess. "Turns out, he's just possessing his own suit of armor. Somehow. I didn't pay much attention. All I know, is don't touch the staff he's carrying. Ever."
Aramir's calm expression as she listened to Alaira explain who Uicle was, turned to one of minor horror as Alaira explained how she had just laughed and walked off after seeing someone stabbed. There was callous and then there was malevolent. That little stunt ended up far on the latter's side. Just as Aramir was going to ask the Wood Elf how she could just walk off and laugh after someone was stabbed, Alaira explained further. Apparently, Uicle wasn't actually inhabiting his armor. It was his soul..somehow, some way. Then again, it kind of make sense. He is a Necromancy teacher after all, so what's to say he didn't use his own mageblood to bind himself to the armor? Aramir thought, considering. That of course, is impossible, but Aramir's knowledge of magebloods is small and based heavily upon rumor. So one couldn't really blame her for having a misconception like that.
Rubbing her throbbing neck, she asked, "Why? Why don't you touch his staff?" It seemed like a very odd rule, that no one touch his staff. And it didn't appear to have any purpose that she had noted as Alaira was helping her up and leading her away. It was just...there. Odd. Very, very odd.
"Well, I tried to take it," Alaira started. She saw the snow elf's expression once again and quickly added "What? I was just trying to get a closer look at the engravings... Anyway, So I try to touch it, and I feel his palm slam into my stomach and knock me over." She wouldn't admit it, but she doubted she'd seen many people move that quickly. "So here I am, ass on the ground, and I'm just in shock. Mostly because I didn't think he even could knock me down without magic. And then he just says, without even screaming, 'Don't. Touch. The Staff.' and storms off." She shuddered a bit at the memory. She'd never seen such simmering fury. Sure, she'd been angry, angrier than goddamn volcanoes. But Alaira's fury was loud and aggressive. Uicle? every word dripped with a quiet menace she'd never known. And it was all made worse by the slight ringing his hollow armor made when sound traveled through it. "I know I screw with him a lot, but don't push him too far. Theres something wrong about him." The berserker said solemnly.
It was then that something caught Alaira's eye, and she was a bit surprised she didn't notice earlier. "Hey, is that a bow? Heh, it is! mind if I take a look at it?" Alaira asked, extending her hand.
Aramir's face showed her exasperation as Alaira explained that she had tried to take Uicle's staff from him. She was certainly an odd character, but she hadn't displayed any truly malicious traits. That was something, the Snow Elf supposed. As Alaira continued with her explanation a slight smile made it's way across her face. So the Elf warrioress had made a mistake, underestimating the teacher. It was amusing, in a way. But the smile immediately dropped when the other Elf shuddered, apparently scared by that side of Uicle. All Aramir could do was nod and say, "I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Not that she planned on antagonizing or generally causing arguments or fights in the school. She had had enough of that to last her a lifetime, thank you very much. Enough blood to last her a lifetime too...and violence...
Aramir's mood grew somber and depressed again as her thoughts went along the familiar path of the night of hell a year ago. It only brightened when Alaira asked about her bow. Now that, that was a fond memory! Aramir brought her bow out, a bright smile on her face. "Oh, this? I made it when I first got my hunter's tattoos. Hasn't let me down since." There was unmistakable pride in her voice, pride and love. It was her bow and it hadn't let her down, even when everything else was burning down around her. She handed it over, giggling slightly. "It looks more like a toy a child would make in your hands!"
Alaira had definitely noticed Aramir's enthusiasm. Apparently, she made this bow herself. She turned it in her hands a few times, before she attempted to string it. Damn, this thing was ridiculous! It took a bit more effort than she thought it would for it's size. It really was quite small, and probably wasn't very powerful. At least, that's what you'd think if you weren't a Bowyer. The thing was quite strange looking when unstrung, as it turned completely away from the firer in almost an O shape. When strung however, the thing looked more like a Recurve bow. This, was a Reflex bow. Alaira had only seen a few in her lifetime, and had never tried her hand at making one before, mostly since the act of creating these was no small feat. The design allowed it to fire at the same strength as a longbow three times it's size! The thing was also constructed very well, the love and care Aramir must have poured into this thing was obvious.
"Wow..." she said to herself quietly as she inspected it. While this was certainly no masterwork, it was a good damn bow. Mostly she was surprised at how much she clearly cared for it. Most people view weapons as tools, or toys for some. But they were more than that. A good smith pours his soul into everything he makes, and makes it his own. Aramir had done the same thing. This bow was hers, and hers alone. Alaira caught what Aramir said about it, and almost giggled. "Aye. But it's just as strong as one my size, huh?"
Hearing Alaira's quiet exclamation, Aramir beamed. She didn't know why or what had the Forest Elf so impressed, but it had something to do with her bow and that was enough. It really was in remarkably good condition, considering the long trek she had taken it through. She had cleaned and polished it as best she was able every night since leaving her tribe. What had simply began as a soothing, repetitive motion to keep hysteria at bay soon became a nightly habit. The wood gleamed in the torchlight, showing clear signs of having been lovingly cared for. She had found that the repetition of the act helped keep back the hysteria and waking nightmares brought on by the fact that her tribe was nothing more than corpses in the snow, and she had not only watched it happen, but been apart of it. Friend had turned into enemies, and family had died before her eyes. It had been a scarring experience, to put it mildly.
At Alaira's words, she smiled wider. "I wouldn't know about your bows, but there was this human who challenged me to a marksman contest a few months ago. Thought it would be easy cash, to beat such a small bow. He hadn't planned on me having been a hunter in the Frozen Plains most of my life, and had thought that my bow wouldn't do well, based on it's size. My bow proved equal to his, and it came down to personal skill. A lifetime of hunting paid off that day. Shooting against a still target on a windless day proved much easier than my usual targets. " She was clearly very pleased with herself, that she had shown a human the error of just assuming something was weak based on it's size alone. "It took me nearly a week and a half to get it right, then another three days making sure it would stand up against the elements of the Plains. I'm still fairly amazed my arms still worked after I got my tattoos." She touched the tattoos on her arms almost subconsciously, remembering the pain of getting them. "Regardless, it is my preferred weapon, the bow that is." Aramir's eyes shifted to Alaira's lance. "I take it yours is the lance?"
Ah. here we go... As soon as Aramir mentioned the challenger, Alaira knew exactly what kind of guy she was talking about. Considering her current stature, one might assume she'd always been that way. True, she'd always been tall, but there was a time when she didn't look anywhere near as strong, and people would constantly underestimate her, though she supposed not to the extent Aramir must deal with it. Alaira couldn't imagine being in situations like that constantly. "Well, I suppose you handled it better than I would. I would have broke his bow in half and fed it to him." She said, laughing a bit. She noticed her say something about those tattoos on her arm, but she assumed it was a cultural thing, so she didn't ask. It wasn't much longer 'till the girl asked about her lance.
"Heh, I guess it is my favorite. Still, I can use damn near any weapon, provided it isn't something freaky like a multi-flail." It was true, Alaira was skilled with all but the most exotic of weaponry. Being a Forest Elf, she had a lot of time to practice. That being said, she did seem to have a natural affinity for weaponry. But she was fond of the Lance above all others. "It's kinda like those arrows of your's. When I hit something, all the power of it's forced on the point here, so it punches through easier than something you hack and slash with." She said, moving the lance upwards for emphasis. "But this thing here... It's a piece of shit." She said. "It dulls quick, warps too easy, the haft isn't that straight, and it's damn heavy. But you know what? This thing's gotten me through more jams than I can even count." She was probably right, math was never her strong suit. "If my piece of shit lance can do so much, think how much you can do with this thing here." Alaira said as she unstrung the bow and handed it back.
Aramir laughed gently. "I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to do that. The bow was as tall as I was, and I'm obviously not the strongest of people." That, and she could barely tolerate arguing. Unprovoked violence(which, in her mind, means someone is threatening you or someone else unjustly)? She would probably go into a coma before that happened. Not that she would mention it to Alaira. Just by that statement alone, she could tell that the Forest Elf wouldn't be able to understand. "Freaky like a...you know what? I don't want to know." Snow Elves weren't known for their strength, and having a large hunk of steel on your back just weighed you down in the Frozen Plains. So, until now, Aramir had never seen any of the heavier weapons and armor.
As Alaira went on her little speech about her 'piece of shit' Lance, Aramir could hear the fondness in her voice. "Piece of shit your lance may be, it appears to be servicing you admirably. Why fix what's working?" As she took the bow back, and the Wood Elf spoke of what she could do with her hunting bow, Aramir's smile faltered, slightly. "I haven't really been in any form of combat..aside from..never mind. ." She said, grasping for something to change the subject. For someone who wanted to forget her past, she seemed to be reminded of it at every turn. "Is there a place where I can make more arrows when I lose them?" Along the way to the College she had seen more wood than she had ever seen in her life. Trees, houses, tools. It was everywhere. Surely there would be enough left over for her to make arrows out of?
"Multi-flail. It's like a stick with several Iron balls attached by several chains." Alaira said. She knew Aramir must not particularly care but... Sometimes it was hard not to say something. Then Aramir spoke again, this time of Alaira's lance. "Because one day, it isn't gonna work. A good weapon is no substitute for skill, but if you go around using inferior equipment for too long, no amount of skill can help you." She said. That one was a favorite line from her old master, the one that taught her to focus her rage and use it as a weapon. Alaira was a little surprised at Aramir. The girl had said she'd never really seen combat before, and Alaira couldn't even imagine a world without fighting. Wouldn't that be dull?
Of course, Aramir's tone was lost on her. "Never? Gods, that must be dull. There's nothin' better than a good fight!" Alaira said, but before she could continue, Aramir spoke. Apparently, she was asking where she could get more arrows. "Well, most of the ignorant jackasses would tell ya to head to the forge. Of course, that's stupid. They think that 'oh, if it's a hurty-thing you go to the forge!' well, we make arrowheads in the forge sure, but if you need arrows head to the courtyard, where ya were a bit ago." She paused a bit, before realizing that she probably needed more to go on. "There's a white canvas tent tucked away in the corner. A Fletcher by the name of Brandis lives there. And no, I don't know why he lives in the tent. Something about the stars or something. But I say it's too damn cold out there."
Aramir merely nodded, as far as the flail was concerned. It certainly wasn't something she planned on using or seeing up close any time soon. Never, preferably. The thing sounded like it could shatter what fragile bones she had. In multiple places. Something that was certain to be a nasty experience, an experience few would recover from in full health, if they recover from it at all. As Alaira went on about her lance, the Snow Elf tilted her head, listening. It made sense. After all, poorly maintained equipment had been the death of many a fool on the Frozen Plains, even if that fool had been living there for most of their life. "I can see your point." Was all she said in reply. Though, the question she was wondering was: if Alaira knew she needed to fix her lance, why didn't she just fix it here at the College? Or before hand for that matter. Both seemed relatively easy to do, given the abundance of supplies here that were rare commodities in the Plains. But, what did she know? This wasn't her land, and it obviously played by a different set of rules than her own.
At Alaira's words about fighting, Aramir gave a pained smile. "To you perhaps. To me, my life is quite exciting enough with out anymore combat in it." She couldn't blame the Forest Elf for the remark, she had no idea of the past. Still didn't stop it from hurting or bringing up bad memories. She turned her attention to the fletcher before things could go from bad to worse. "I don't mind the cold. Especially here. This land seems to be trapped in an eternal warmth, compared to the cold of the Plains."
"Eternal warmth? Heh, you're a long way from home, that's for sure." Alaira said. Well, at least the girl seemed alright. Seemed a bit squeemish as far as she could tell, but she was alright. "Wait, you said any more?" Alaira said. She actually managed to catch something for once. Course, if she demanded information that would be pretty hypocritical. "Ah, don't worry, you don't have to tell me anything. Gods no I wouldn't if I were you. Anyhow, looks like we're here." Alaira said at reaching the dining hall. Of course with that detour they were late but whatever, there was plenty of seating. "Well, I'll see ya later. Make sure you don't get stepped on, alright?" Alaira said as she pushed the door open.
