[center][abbr=#B8041A | Alt+0248 for ø][img]https://i.ibb.co/wY7GYz8/Kaspar-Header-2.png[/img][/abbr]
[hr][color=#B8041A][b]LOCATION[/b][/color][b]:[/b] Torragonese Desert
[color=#B8041A][b]INTERACTIONS[/b][/color][b]:[/b] Ayla [@Ti], Jocasta [@Force and Fury], Yalen [@pantothenic], Ysilla [@Pirouette], Zarina [@YummyYummy]
[hr][/center]
As they departed from the halassa’s corpses, Kaspar found himself gravitating toward the back of the group, keeping an eye to make sure no one fell behind. Solitary as he was, it didn’t bother him to be a step behind his companions; yet, several still turned their attention toward him. [color=#7ea7d8]”Shame there wasn’t an opportunity to study them more closely. When the circumstance is right, you should find the opportunity.”[/color] He half-smiled at her comment, undoubtedly spurred by his interest in sketching, and nodded, [color=#B8041A][b]”Perhaps I will. Their shells had quite intriguing patterns on them, I may try to sketch them from memory. Surely you might find a subject in them, too?”[/b][/color] He remembered the way she painted, and though partial to charcoal himself, thought they would make good subjects for a more colorful medium as well.

Even as he spoke, another figure drifted toward the back of the group; this one surprised him, as Zarina Al-Nader came to walk beside him. He recalled the way the girl had awkwardly complimented his kill earlier, and wondered what the Helbahn noble could’ve done to draw her attention. [color=#C78A2C]”Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favourite Binder.”[/color] He turned toward her, seeing the way her features softened, and remained silently curious. [color=#C78A2C]”Think you’d be able to make some grub, should this take a bit, Casper?”[/color]

Some small part of him prickled at the slightly mispronunciation of his name, but the boy didn’t sense any harm in it as he contemplated the answer. [color=#B8041A][b]”I am capable of creating food, yes, so long as there is something around me to pull from.”[/b][/color]

[color=#C78A2C]”Wait, could you, technically, change a sapphire into an emerald? Because that’d be pretty cool.”[/color]

This question took him by surprise, and the boy couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him as he glanced to the Virangish girl, tilting his head to mimic her own stance. [color=#B8041A][b]“Gemstones are an interesting question. A binder could draw from a sapphire and reconstitute the matter into an emerald, but it does not require the destruction of one gem to make another. A binder could construct an emerald from sand, or dirt, just as easily, so long as they know how to make the emerald. Chemical mages, I understand, can also change the nature of matter—in, perhaps, a more direct manner.”[/b][/color] As she seemed to parse over his response, he added, [color=#B8041A][b]“Is this simply curiosity, or do you have a greater reason for asking?”[/b][/color]

Zarina seemed dissatisfied with his answer, lips pursing and hands coming to her hips, and Kaspar quirked an eyebrow. [color=#C78A2C]“Huh. Yeah, you can just make very pretty and wonderful things from crap you find. Yup. Way to remove the mysticism out of things! At least make it sound cool and interesting. Give me a moment. Like, say…”[/color] She picked up sand, and he watched as it slowly turned into a small drop of glass. [color=#C78A2C]“See? Like this! Except this becomes a diamond, or something. There, class is now captivated and thinks of dumb schemes to make bank. But anywaaayyyyy, no, I’m just making conversation. And y’know, figuring out what some of us can do. I guess.”[/color]

[color=#C78A2C]“So, apart from a lecture, what do you do, Kaspar? And make it sound interesting, I’m a demanding audience.”[/color] She winked at him, and the boy found the barest start of a blush creeping up his cheek. 

He still wasn’t sure what had drawn her attention to him—was he simply the one she knew least? Was there something special she saw in the Elstrøm child? 

And why did he feel the sudden need to impress her? Was it in defense of himself, of his schooling? Was there just something that demanding about her presence? Yet, he found himself drawing from the top of the sand and converting the granules into something concrete and whole. [color=#B8041A][b]”I apologize for removing the… ‘mysticism’ of this. Forget everything. Let me try again.”[/b][/color] He closed his hand around the still-forming marble of glass, waving the other with some flourish as the pieces came together. He opened his palm, revealing the blue orb. [color=#B8041A][b]”A sapphire, you see?”[/b][/color] His hand snapped closed, and he pulled out the energy, reconstituting it for this paltry trick as the noble revealed an orb, shaded green now. [color=#B8041A][b]”Behold! An emerald now, yes?”[/b][/color] He held it up for her to admire, before hiding it from view and completing the trick one last time—revealing, at last, an orb of glass swirled with green and blue. [color=#B8041A][b]”Why only one, if you can have both? There, the mysticism has returned!”[/b][/color] He dropped the orb into her palm, trying to understand his own motivations for such a show—and finding no answer to his satisfaction. 

But there was still a question unanswered. He thought, studying himself carefully before supplying an answer, this time in a voice much softer. [color=#B8041A][b]”For the Gift? I do Binding, mostly—as you know. I draw, very carefully; I’ve practiced a long time, to be so careful. I’m learning the ways of Chemical Magic, too, though my knowledge is… lesser, in that field. For everything else? I sketch, mostly plants. I take the beauty in the world and recreate it on paper with charcoal. I study plants, too—I study many things, in truth, but none are very exciting. I speak with Ayla, or sit in silence and sketch while she speaks, sometimes. I’m afraid it is not… all that interesting.”[/b][/color] His crimson eyes drifted back toward the lioness as he spoke, watching her engage with Yalen and Jocasta. He wondered silently if she would have dropped back to speak with him, had the Al-Nader not arrived first. Biting back the contemplation, his gaze slid back to the girl walking beside him, and he found himself curious. [color=#B8041A][b]”And what of you? What is it [i]you[/i] do, Zarina?”[/b][/color]

[color=#C78A2C]“I do loads of things.”[/color] Her voice dropped in volume too, nearly drowned out by Ayla’s playing. [color=#C78A2C]”People say I’m a good performer. Mostly for dancing. But I just like to move. Ride. Go anywhere I want. How I want. And it makes it easier for me to do another thing I do pretty good. Taking care of business.”[/color] She clenched her palm, and Kaspar watched passively as the orb he’d given her was crushed, the tiny particles swept away by the winds of the desert. [color=#C78A2C]“... That sounded sinister. I just tend to shake the wrong tree from time to time. Or they rustle mine.”[/color]

He thought about what little he knew of leading, of interacting with others—and how some seemed to find him uncaring because they did not understand his nature. [color=#B8041A][b]”As I understand it, only those who are idle or disinterested can truly avoid shaking trees. You do not seem the type to sit idle; it is inevitable, I am sure.”[/b][/color] 

[color=#C78A2C]“Or just idiots who like to mess with the wrong trees.”[/color]

He let out a small chuckle of amusement, walking through the sand in silence for several moments. Yet, as Kaspar trudged side-by-side with the girl, he found his attention pulled harshly to the front of the group, where Yalen and Jocasta seemed to be speaking.

[color=#FFE4B5]”They say it’s so you won’t miss the family that left you there. Didn’t your… your own parents abandon you? [i]Mine[/i] sure did, whoever they were.”[/color]

He felt the words crawl up his throat and choke him, gut twisting in an unusual sympathy. His breath stuttered as he thought, unbidden, of parents who could abandon their own child because they couldn’t handle his Gift. He forced it away, sucking in a deep breath and stripping the memory down, storing it in a box that was meant to stay locked. No matter the emotion, he could not afford to seem so weak with so many eyes watching. He returned his attention to Zarina, forcing himself to say [i]something[/i] to distract from the conversation ahead, and any response he might have had to it. 

[color=#B8041A][b]”It was, perhaps, a touch sinister—crushing objects to dust may certainly have added to this.”[/b][/color] His voice sounded hollow to his own ears, but he forced some sense of amusement into it, hoping the Al-Nader did not notice. 

She seemed not to notice for a moment, glancing at him and stuttering in confusion for a moment before replying, [color=#C78A2C]“Sorry, just showing what I can do. I think. Crushing glass isn’t exactly impressive, though.”[/color] She hummed for a moment, before dropping her voice and asking a question Kaspar would rather not answer. [color=#C78A2C]”What do you think of them? The afflicted and the mind scrubbing.”[/color]

Kaspar glanced away, distress in his red eyes as he forced stoicism onto the rest of his face, rather than flinching as he would’ve liked from the raw strike to a nerve. He’d not spoken of anything like this since he was eight; no one in Wentoft discussed the abandonment of children by people who should’ve loved them. Yet there were rules of his home that could not be enforced here, and he was sure this was the first of many painful clashes he’d encounter. 

He kept staring straight ahead, feeling notes of vulnerability as they crawled up his throat. [color=#B8041A][b]”It is... unfortunate. That some have parents who could not or would not love a child because of something that child could not control. Those who take them in... It should be done with a willingness to care for the child as a being, rather than a disease. Only some of..."[/b][/color] He choked on the words he wanted to say, on [i]us[/i], as he forced himself to continue, [color=#B8041A][b]"Of them, are fortunate enough to receive that compassion.”[/b][/color]

Yet up ahead, shapes appeared in the sand. Their duty was upon them now, and the boy forced back the emotions threaten to bubble to the surface, placing a careful mask over him and standing up straight, Kaspar Elstrøm von Wentoft once again. 

If only things did not go so wrong. 

[hr]
He did not speak Torragonese, but Kaspar knew enough to hear panic and fear in any language. He braced, crimson eyes sweeping the sand wildly as he tried to decipher what was approaching, attention pulled from the figures hurriedly running back towards the refuge. 

[color=#FFE4B5]”Sand Wyrm! East of here! It's... it's coming up [i]fast[/i]!”[/color] The panic in Jocasta's voice was concerning, but the translation nevertheless helpful. 

Nevermind that he didn’t know what a sand wyrm was—he could hazard a few guesses, but the most important was [i]deadly[/i]. He watched Jocasta take to the air, Ayla shouting after her, and wondered how he could best evade the beast—and how many of his companions similarly lacked the talents to do so. He doubted they could fight it, even as he tried to bolster his own confidence in his ability to draw its life away if necessary—there were some creatures that were simply beyond death at the hands of mortal men. 

Ayla turned toward them, shouting something in excitement. [color=#7ea7d8]”Dança-Alsahra, Dança-Alsahra!”[/color] He couldn’t even pretend to understand the words, but paid rapt attention to the girl anyway. She pulled something out of her pocket, holding up a metallic object towards them and declaring, [color=#7ea7d8]”Binding Magic. Kaspar, Ysilla, need this bigger, at least 100 times bigger. Right now. Use everything.”[/color] He wasn’t sure what Ayla’s plan was, but Kaspar had to admit he didn’t have one of his own—and so he would do as the musician asked, and hope there would be time for asking questions later… [i]inside[/i] the refuge. 

He turned to make eye contact with Ysilla, nodding sharply at the puppeteer and sweeping his arms to draw from the plentiful desert sand. Great pockets of shifting granules appeared dozens of feet away as he absorbed the matter, taking care not to destabilize their group. He pointed his cherrywood wand at a spot in the sand, and there began to emerge the massive tuning fork, the concentrated effort of binders who could not afford to not give their all in this moment. He felt the pressure inside his blood, and the strain of casting so quickly, but shoved it all down and focused on his talents, on how he [I]knew[/i] he could do this. 

As soon as the construction was done, he stumbled a few feet away, bending over with his hands coming to rest on his knees. He took deep breaths, watching small droplets of sweat drip into the sand and pushing away the slightly nauseousness turning his stomach. Panting, the crimson eyes glanced up to watch the efforts of the Priest, heating the object as it waited to be flung some great distance. He couldn't help but think back to the halassa with the boiling eyes, and found it did not help his momentarily compromised constitution. 

Ayla spun, finished with her instructions to Zarina and the flying Jocasta, and his eyes snapped to her face. [color=#7ea7d8]“Stop absolutely everything, not even a breath.”[/color] He sucked in deeply, providing oxygen to his heaving lungs without bothering to straighten up, and stilled—it was not easy, but he could sense the urgency in Ayla’s voice, and would rather feel the momentary discomfort and continue living. 

Kaspar watched her prepare magic of her own, but did not call out any of the things that sat in his throat. [color=#B8041A][i]What are you doing? What is your part?[/i][/color] he thought, but spared some of his confidence for her. He would need to trust all of his companions in this moment—at least that came easiest with the painter whom he'd spent so much time with already. But, quieter and unbidden in his mind, came one other thought, [color=#B8041A][i]By Gods… Be careful, Ayla.[/i][/color]

All he could do was watch as she hit the tuning fork, sending a great vibrating noise through the dunes of the desert. His breath held, eardrums reverberating with the noise, as he waited to see if the sand wyrm would divert, giving them a chance to run to safety.

He hoped that he wouldn’t leave his parents childless again.