I've been free of mankind for so long, save one pain that I am tethered to for the remainder of my days. I saved her Sanria, and now I feel what she feels and thank Lady Sune, wherever she may be, that I cannot see what she thinks. Now I follow her scent, leading her back through the trees to a man she loved, then didn't love, the loved, then didn't love then loved, then didn't love. Such switching of partners I haven't seen since the last I stepped as an elf out of Lady Sune's temple.
The Haon'Dor is rife with the scent of rabbit and squirrel Something I'll have to remember for a quick meal once all this is done. Regardless... fix Colin. He is a foolish one as well. Loving someone as fickle as Sanria. Fickle - like Lithanus was. Never settling down, always drifting hearts without a home. Never committing for long. I never was very good at spreading love to others. Too worried. Love stings like briar scratches and bites like fleas and you are never free of the memories.
I can't say I remember this waterfall ever being here. It must look foolish seeing a woman and a wolf floating up to the sky... an island... this castle. Sanria resides here? These people... no... not people... what are they? They all seem surprised by me, like they know what I am without my telling them, and it puzzles them.
I smell him already and that scent of his son. It's been a long time since I've seen the boy. He must reside here, too. The silence in these rooms is incredible. It must be magic, or some sort of contrivance that enables it to be so peaceful. Though... Colin does not look at peace. Colin is afraid. 'No fear. I will help.' I must get accustomed to speaking with these people again... I sound like a child.
Lupa Alba Kaliadris
Sanria hadn't left Colin's side. Not for lack of wanting to, but because he was increasingly concerned about her health and welfare if the "man" were to find her. She told him that she was getting to know Gilean, thinking that he would not truly care, thinking that with the black makou gone and no memory of their life together, he would let go. She was wrong, and it only seemed to make matters worse.
She set out after settling and easing Colin's fears, letting her hands graze the trunks of trees, asking and hunting for a large white wolf. Kaliadra had helped her long ago when her mind was frayed, now she hoped that she could find the lythari and that her mind wasn't too far gone into the canis world.
Sanria used the very blood that the two shared to seek, and in combination with the trees, felt a flicker that lead her in the direction of the Forests of Mahn'Tor. It had been a very long time since she'd been within the woods here, stretching back to when Visha claimed her brother and a cave. The memory came back with overwhelming clarity and Sanria took a moment to sit on a boulder. She hadn't thought about her brother Sandorin in a long while, and she felt her chest tighten. 'Why seek me?'
Sanria lifted her head and looked into the bright blue eyes of the wolf she had sought. "Kaliadra..."
'Leave.'
'Please,' Sanria telepathed. 'Listen for a moment. We need your help.'
'Can't help. Leave.'
'Colin is very ill in his mind, and you helped me, can you please help him?'
A shimmer of recognition seemed to drift past the blue eyes and a flicker of intelligence once again seemed to light. 'Colin... ill?'
'Yes. Very. Like I was. We need you to make it better, so he's not afraid.'
Sanria held her breath as Kaliadra lowered her white head, drawing back her ears. The growl that came from Kaliadra's throat was loud, and caused the air around her to quiver. Kaliadra finally looked up at Sanria. 'You love him now?'
'I... love him, but so much has happened, if you'll only help, you'll see.'
'You make pain. I feel when you make it. You hurt.'
'I'm sorry. I wish I didn't, truly, I do.'
'Gilean?' Kaliadra questioned after a few moments and Sanria nodded her head. Kaliadra's long huff of air was the only reply before she stood up and began walking back through the woods in the direction Sanria had come.
She set out after settling and easing Colin's fears, letting her hands graze the trunks of trees, asking and hunting for a large white wolf. Kaliadra had helped her long ago when her mind was frayed, now she hoped that she could find the lythari and that her mind wasn't too far gone into the canis world.
Sanria used the very blood that the two shared to seek, and in combination with the trees, felt a flicker that lead her in the direction of the Forests of Mahn'Tor. It had been a very long time since she'd been within the woods here, stretching back to when Visha claimed her brother and a cave. The memory came back with overwhelming clarity and Sanria took a moment to sit on a boulder. She hadn't thought about her brother Sandorin in a long while, and she felt her chest tighten. 'Why seek me?'
Sanria lifted her head and looked into the bright blue eyes of the wolf she had sought. "Kaliadra..."
'Leave.'
'Please,' Sanria telepathed. 'Listen for a moment. We need your help.'
'Can't help. Leave.'
'Colin is very ill in his mind, and you helped me, can you please help him?'
A shimmer of recognition seemed to drift past the blue eyes and a flicker of intelligence once again seemed to light. 'Colin... ill?'
'Yes. Very. Like I was. We need you to make it better, so he's not afraid.'
Sanria held her breath as Kaliadra lowered her white head, drawing back her ears. The growl that came from Kaliadra's throat was loud, and caused the air around her to quiver. Kaliadra finally looked up at Sanria. 'You love him now?'
'I... love him, but so much has happened, if you'll only help, you'll see.'
'You make pain. I feel when you make it. You hurt.'
'I'm sorry. I wish I didn't, truly, I do.'
'Gilean?' Kaliadra questioned after a few moments and Sanria nodded her head. Kaliadra's long huff of air was the only reply before she stood up and began walking back through the woods in the direction Sanria had come.
Location, location, location
Sitting at the Park Cafe, Ror sipped his latte. The drink was turning cold while Ror took small sips. He was not focussed on his drink, but on the words of Psycho. Ror's thoughts mulled over the ideas and promises and very soon concluded that the Radiant Heart were not just backing him up in the idea, they were giving him a carte blanche. They put trust in him on this. Which was nice of course, but didn't make things easier. For one, Psycho only mentioned the school. So it was unclear whether he supported the rest. Then again a school was better than nothing. He would need a location though. But Ror knew that was just the start. After the location picking there was the building and of course the teaching and rallying of children and grown-ups to actually come to the school and learn. Because education was important. No matter who you were or what you'd do later in life, education would help you build your self-esteem and strengthen your resolve in the world around you. It made you less gullible and less stupid. Where do I start? thought Ror. He drained his cup and placed it down on the table, closing his book with the other hand. No more reading for today. It was time to visit that floating island and ask for a reply from the Keeper's side. They were the only ones left to respond, and hopefully they would have some further ideas as well.
Log: 31012013 - Ror and Phil
OOC commentary: The mob was taken over by an immortal who had some fun with it. And so, for the first time ever, Phil the barman roleplayed back! Stuff like this should happen more often.
Phil's Bar
Ror sat down in the warm chair against the wall in Phil's bar. He placed his ordered pizza on the table next to him and started reading his book, eating a slice every now and then. After a while Phil looked up from his glasses and glanced at Ror, saying 'Tough times, huh, bud?' Chewing on his pizza thoughtfully, Ror went 'Hm?' still focussed on his book. Phil nodded toward the book, still polishing glasses, asking, 'What are you reading there?' The barman put some glasses back and started wiping down the bar. Finally Ror looked up from the book at Phil, 'Ah, that'll be 'The Art Of War' by Tsun Tsun,' he answered. 'Whoa, ho! A friggin scholar in my bar.' Ror chuckled. 'I actually pay my tabs, if that helps... '
The barman let out a gruff chuckle and opened the ice chest behind the bar. 'So what do you think about this new Westbridge garbage? I gotta say, it's nice not having those purple armored bastards in here.' He started chipping off pieces of ice. Curious about the use of the terms 'new garbage', Ror asked about but agreed with the barman. Less purple bastards was always a good thing in the eyes of any TriPower officer. And Ror was no exception. 'You green, bud?' asked Phil, 'Those Vector bastards have been here for years. I almost forgot what the damned place looked like without that trash around.' Now Ror understood exactly what Phil had meant and he explained about his absence while the barman was wiping the sweat off his face due to the hard chipping labour he was performing.
'Need a hand?' asked Ror, but the response he got was one of laughs as Phil rolled up his sleeve and flexed his arm. 'You kiddin? I ain't a greenhorn here.' Ror disliked the display of muscle, as if it was the only requirement to be helpful, and so - to make a statement - he pointed with his finger at the block of ice and cast a lightning bolt to shatter it, saying 'Neither am I.' At first Phil raised his eyebrow, but after it sank in, the man finally grinned. 'Well alright then, range rover. You win.' Ror smirked and turned back to his book while Phil shut the ice chest, satisfied, and started cleaning up the ice fragments on the floor with a broom. Resuming the smalltalk, Phil said, 'So, war. Not to put to fine a point on it, but the war is over, brother.'
'For now,' said Ror trying to concentrate on his book again. Near the bar Phil was emptying the ice fragments into a trash can and nodding. 'Yeap. I s'pose your right there. Someone always wants someone elses' shit. That's for sure. Anyway, I'll let you get back to your reading. I know what it's like to have people talking non stop.' And with that last commented the barman looked out over the pretty empty bar with a smirk and a shrug. Life was as it was. And Ror could not disagree with that. 'Indeed. And we've not seen the last of Vector, I'm sure of it,' added Ror thoughtfully. 'I'll bet you're right,' replied Phil going back to cleaning his glasses. 'I wish I wasn't...' Behind the bar a grunt of agreement came.
The barman let out a gruff chuckle and opened the ice chest behind the bar. 'So what do you think about this new Westbridge garbage? I gotta say, it's nice not having those purple armored bastards in here.' He started chipping off pieces of ice. Curious about the use of the terms 'new garbage', Ror asked about but agreed with the barman. Less purple bastards was always a good thing in the eyes of any TriPower officer. And Ror was no exception. 'You green, bud?' asked Phil, 'Those Vector bastards have been here for years. I almost forgot what the damned place looked like without that trash around.' Now Ror understood exactly what Phil had meant and he explained about his absence while the barman was wiping the sweat off his face due to the hard chipping labour he was performing.
'Need a hand?' asked Ror, but the response he got was one of laughs as Phil rolled up his sleeve and flexed his arm. 'You kiddin? I ain't a greenhorn here.' Ror disliked the display of muscle, as if it was the only requirement to be helpful, and so - to make a statement - he pointed with his finger at the block of ice and cast a lightning bolt to shatter it, saying 'Neither am I.' At first Phil raised his eyebrow, but after it sank in, the man finally grinned. 'Well alright then, range rover. You win.' Ror smirked and turned back to his book while Phil shut the ice chest, satisfied, and started cleaning up the ice fragments on the floor with a broom. Resuming the smalltalk, Phil said, 'So, war. Not to put to fine a point on it, but the war is over, brother.'
'For now,' said Ror trying to concentrate on his book again. Near the bar Phil was emptying the ice fragments into a trash can and nodding. 'Yeap. I s'pose your right there. Someone always wants someone elses' shit. That's for sure. Anyway, I'll let you get back to your reading. I know what it's like to have people talking non stop.' And with that last commented the barman looked out over the pretty empty bar with a smirk and a shrug. Life was as it was. And Ror could not disagree with that. 'Indeed. And we've not seen the last of Vector, I'm sure of it,' added Ror thoughtfully. 'I'll bet you're right,' replied Phil going back to cleaning his glasses. 'I wish I wasn't...' Behind the bar a grunt of agreement came.
Is There Life on Mars
Sanria watched Colin sleep, his breath moving rhythmically in and out, his large chest rising and falling with the respirative effort, his body working of its own accord. She lay there, Orn's words echoing in her mind like a multi-bullet ricochet, "Where have you been? This invasion happened, and you were nowhere around." He was in pain, her son. His bear had died on the field and she was blamed. If she would have been there, she might have saved Reggie. "Where have you been?"
She hadn't planned on active battle. She had her children to think about and the rest of her clan. She had said from the start she wouldn't be involved, but it didn't matter to Orn. The truth was, the truth she couldn't bring herself to admit out loud, was that she had been in the arms of a very familiar new man. She was isolated from Westbridge, deep in the Druid's Grove, away from the carnage and slaughter and death. She was busy feeling the most unguilty sense of peace she'd felt in years while her son was battling a demented mad man and his furry companion was breathing his last. She was feeling a happiness she hadn't experienced in years while her fellow leaders were swinging swords in the name of justice. When she'd come back up for air, all there was to breathe in was the crushing atmosphere of guilt. "Where have you been?"
Orn had apologized to her when he saw the anguish that filled her features, but facing the uproar of emotion that poured from her son broke something deep inside Sanria. She knew his pain, she'd been intimate with it the first time Thasmudyan had died, and when she'd lost Throm. She knew it could make people say things they wouldn't otherwise- a wound exposed: unapologetic and raw. Orn's truth stung like a shower of salt, and Sanria saw what her son wanted far clearer than she had ever before. A mother who was stable, a mother who was with his father - a stable family, home, and clan. "Where have you been?"
She couldn't share with him the joy she'd experienced with Gilean. She could not share just how happy she'd been spending time with Gilean. Instead she would have to do what would help her son. She would fix the pain on Orn's face- anything to make that hurt, heartache, anger, anguish, and rage vanish. She would tell Thasmudyan there would not be a reconciliation. She would swallow the feelings she experienced with Gilean and banish them to the farthest reaches of her soul. She would sit then with a man who didn't remember her or their life together at all. A man who had hallucinations, who needed her to even stay asleep at night. A man with whom there may never be a full recovery. "Where have you been?"
Colin woke only slightly and gave a sleepy smile. "You're like a dream," he said, "appearing to me in the night. Will you be here tomorrow?" Sanria, her heart heavy, nodded her head 'yes.'
She hadn't planned on active battle. She had her children to think about and the rest of her clan. She had said from the start she wouldn't be involved, but it didn't matter to Orn. The truth was, the truth she couldn't bring herself to admit out loud, was that she had been in the arms of a very familiar new man. She was isolated from Westbridge, deep in the Druid's Grove, away from the carnage and slaughter and death. She was busy feeling the most unguilty sense of peace she'd felt in years while her son was battling a demented mad man and his furry companion was breathing his last. She was feeling a happiness she hadn't experienced in years while her fellow leaders were swinging swords in the name of justice. When she'd come back up for air, all there was to breathe in was the crushing atmosphere of guilt. "Where have you been?"
Orn had apologized to her when he saw the anguish that filled her features, but facing the uproar of emotion that poured from her son broke something deep inside Sanria. She knew his pain, she'd been intimate with it the first time Thasmudyan had died, and when she'd lost Throm. She knew it could make people say things they wouldn't otherwise- a wound exposed: unapologetic and raw. Orn's truth stung like a shower of salt, and Sanria saw what her son wanted far clearer than she had ever before. A mother who was stable, a mother who was with his father - a stable family, home, and clan. "Where have you been?"
She couldn't share with him the joy she'd experienced with Gilean. She could not share just how happy she'd been spending time with Gilean. Instead she would have to do what would help her son. She would fix the pain on Orn's face- anything to make that hurt, heartache, anger, anguish, and rage vanish. She would tell Thasmudyan there would not be a reconciliation. She would swallow the feelings she experienced with Gilean and banish them to the farthest reaches of her soul. She would sit then with a man who didn't remember her or their life together at all. A man who had hallucinations, who needed her to even stay asleep at night. A man with whom there may never be a full recovery. "Where have you been?"
Colin woke only slightly and gave a sleepy smile. "You're like a dream," he said, "appearing to me in the night. Will you be here tomorrow?" Sanria, her heart heavy, nodded her head 'yes.'
Aftermath (Part 2)
Vorcet gasped in a breath as he sat bolt upright off the floor. The vision already starting to fade. It wasnt a dream, the dead dont dream. Just enough remained to remind Vorcet of what he had been doing prior to the invasion.
Vorcet slowly stood up and walked to the window in the tower. The sun had travelled two hours in the sky since entering the tower after Kefka had breathed his last. The gates remained unmanned as the insurgents evaluated the damage to the city and began organizing themselves.
So much work was yet to be done with the city before Vorcet could return to his investigations. So many arrangements to be made. Vorcet openned a gate into the basement of Elbryan's house. He made his way upstairs to his room and his wardrobe. He pulled the bloodstained vectorian armor off and tossed it in the corner.
Vorcet had gotten a few strange looks at first as he waded into the combat directing his spells at vectorians but most simply seemed to understand. Vorcet had allowed himself to get too close to the front lines and his spells had attracted Kefkas personal attention. Only the prayers and spells of the priests had kept Vorcet standing through Kefka's onslaught. Every so often Vorcet would feel the rush of his magical powers returning only to catch a glimpse of a familiar halfling chanting arcane phrases in the crowd. Spells flew and weapons had flashed for what seemed an eternity. But in the end, the combined forces of the realm had ended the vectorian occupation.
Vorcet pulled a clean set clothes out of his wardrobe. Thankful for Elbryan's staff's diligence. He dressed slowly working out the stiff muscles and freshly healed wounds. It had been weeks since Vorcet had seen his own clothing, much less his own face. He stopped for a moment to inspect his appearance. Minus the blood and terribly uncomfortable vectorian armor, Vorcet felt almost human again, almost.
Taking a last glance in the mirror and muttering a quick prayer to Talos for letting him see another day, Vorcet opened another gate back to westbridge. The guard tower was still empty as he worked his way to the streets below. Vorcet wound his way through the crowd, taking in the damage that had been wrought by both sides of the conflict. Yes, it was indeed time to begin the healing of the town.
Vorcet slowly stood up and walked to the window in the tower. The sun had travelled two hours in the sky since entering the tower after Kefka had breathed his last. The gates remained unmanned as the insurgents evaluated the damage to the city and began organizing themselves.
So much work was yet to be done with the city before Vorcet could return to his investigations. So many arrangements to be made. Vorcet openned a gate into the basement of Elbryan's house. He made his way upstairs to his room and his wardrobe. He pulled the bloodstained vectorian armor off and tossed it in the corner.
Vorcet had gotten a few strange looks at first as he waded into the combat directing his spells at vectorians but most simply seemed to understand. Vorcet had allowed himself to get too close to the front lines and his spells had attracted Kefkas personal attention. Only the prayers and spells of the priests had kept Vorcet standing through Kefka's onslaught. Every so often Vorcet would feel the rush of his magical powers returning only to catch a glimpse of a familiar halfling chanting arcane phrases in the crowd. Spells flew and weapons had flashed for what seemed an eternity. But in the end, the combined forces of the realm had ended the vectorian occupation.
Vorcet pulled a clean set clothes out of his wardrobe. Thankful for Elbryan's staff's diligence. He dressed slowly working out the stiff muscles and freshly healed wounds. It had been weeks since Vorcet had seen his own clothing, much less his own face. He stopped for a moment to inspect his appearance. Minus the blood and terribly uncomfortable vectorian armor, Vorcet felt almost human again, almost.
Taking a last glance in the mirror and muttering a quick prayer to Talos for letting him see another day, Vorcet opened another gate back to westbridge. The guard tower was still empty as he worked his way to the streets below. Vorcet wound his way through the crowd, taking in the damage that had been wrought by both sides of the conflict. Yes, it was indeed time to begin the healing of the town.
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