How Did You Say the End Went? (Aaren)

[Kendall Saarinen]

73th of Summer, 511 AV Kendall sat alone in the Silver Sliver. He wanted to stay out of the streets as much as he could when he was away from Hadrian. He hated to be alone. He knew it was wrong. He was more than old enough to be able to take care of himself. He was sure if he was anywhere other than Ravok he could have. The city just scared him to death. People were not as friendly as the ones in Syliras and Zeltiva. This was what the world outside of his hometown was like though. No matter how much he found discomfort in it, he would need to learn to calm down, somehow. Looking down at the empty page in his notebook, Kendall wracked his brain for something to write about. With a breath in he tried to clear his mind. If he could not find the words now, maybe he would after a bit of meditation. He did not want to close his eyes although he found it easier to meditate that way. Instead he looked out at the people in the tavern trying to keep perfectly still. He breathed in and out slowly, trying to let his mental fire burn away the things that bothered him and cluttered his mind. It was not a perfect method but at least it helped a little. When his mind had cleared a little he looked down at the paper and began to write, trying to force some of his anxiety onto the pages. "And all of the happiness in the world could not make her smile For she does not want money She does not want fame Not even someone to share affection The bottom line is… She cannot find happiness in the world until she can find it in her own reflection."

[Aaren Kendrick]

Concentration. Containment. Just as his soulmist swirled more violently when powerful emotions leaped to the forefront of his thoughts he could collect himself, in many senses. Perhaps it was the agitation of death that dispersed one's soul in this way, though maybe it was merely the lack of a proper vessel that would send tendrils of Aaren curling toward the ceiling. But when he thought about it, recalled the old boundaries that had carried him through an old world he seemed to gain substance. Flesh looked solid and soft once again, and his wispy hair ceased its floating to hang before eyes that once again held color. But his image was far from perfect. Aaren could feel the exhaustion of the trip inside of him. His essence felt loose and slippery, taking more thought that he would have preferred to materialize a lack-luster image. But is was dark in the tavern, and alcohol had spread its warm haze across many of the eyes that may have scrutinized him. By the flickering candlelight the rare flicker of his form could escape notice, and the ghost was satisfied. Well, in his own appearance. Aaren was less amused with his surroundings. The room was dark, which was good, but Aaren had just spent half a season traveling with a caravan, and he had had his fill of drunken nights. Nonetheless, there were many people here, and perhaps one of them would make for interesting conversation, or at the very least, a good host. Aaren moved like an antique oil painting through the smoky, chatter filled tavern, passing patiently by the drinks whose flavors he could no longer recall. It had been too long, he could feel the itch sinking it's claws into his soul once again. He wanted to play again, and it was frustrating to be so restrained. So he settled himself next to a man who's mind appeared to be elsewhere. Perhaps he was tired, or sinking into a stupor, or simply unfocused. It would not be difficult to fill his limbs and coax them outside, pouring his res into the dark of the alleyway. Inconveniently though, the stranger began to write something on a page, looking at it with perfect clarity. Empty and airless Aaren was unable to sigh with his disappointment, he was too tired for this. The man had not yet noticed him, to caught up in his own thoughts to spy the ghost that had moved silently (he had no choice in that) into the seat in his periphery.

[Kendall Saarinen]

Kendall wrote and wrote. He hoped that the more he did so, the less anxiety he would feel. The words were giving him little relief. With a sigh, he closed his notebook and stretched. At times when he wrote he would get too into the act and grow drowsy. Shaking his head, Kendall looked around. The Silver Silver looked exactly the same, save a few patrons added or missing here and there. When he turned to look beside him he jumped, a small gasp exiting his lips. There was what seemed to be a man sitting beside him. He was somewhat see through though, ethereal in better terms. Was this a ghost? Kendall had never seen one before. He supposed Ravok was a place just as good as good as any to see one though. The rest of the city seemed to be creepy enough. "Ummm… hello?" Kendall wasn't even sure if the man was actually well… a man. Perhaps he was hallucinating because of lack of sleep or overgiving. He had used a lot of magic on the road.