Natural Enigma (Nim pls)

[Sereptinidy]

Location: southern coast of Sylira Timestamp: 61st of Summer, 510 AV Blue and turquoise sparkles of light. Deep shadows whispering over her body, her skin, her brilliant red wings and tail. For a little longer than four days the journey had led the Akvatari along the southern coast of Mizahar. A short bit of Eyktol, then Cyphrus, and now Sylira. Those were only names to her, though, for she didn’t see anything except the underwater variety of colors, fish and the kelp she ate. There was beauty in solitude, especially when salt water dimmed every noise and created a sort of silence that only existed in the ocean. The Akvatari, carrying crimson and bright red hues on her body, didn’t quite fit in at first sight, but she undoubtedly belonged to it. Like a dancer she moved in the water and like the passionate person she was she continued her journey towards Zeltiva. However, even an Akvatari needed rest from the wet element every now and then. They weren’t called ‘Children of the Sea and Sky’ without a reason, after all. So it was at dawn of the fifth day that she propelled herself out of the water with a powerful kick of her double fin and her translucent wings took over control. The landscape of Sylira stretched out off the coast, meadows and fields speckled with wide carpets of forest. The Akvatari, however, didn’t venture deeper into the dry lands, but remained by the coast. Navigating her wing movement with ease, she seated herself at the small streak of sand, facing the sea. Strands of strawberry blond hair nearly touched the ground when her tail curled up around her body so that she could sit upright. Then she exhaled and let the surroundings sink into her perception. Traveling always was an interesting experience. Traveling alone even more so. There was nobody inspiring her, nothing happening – at least if she stayed close to the coast – and no architecture to admire, no history to explore. The sea had always been and would always be. Perhaps the Akvatari were more closely connected to nature, but they also lacked any social skills. Not that this particular Akvatari considered that as a disadvantage at all. But sometimes she wished they were better at adjusting to other races. Perhaps this was one possibility to compensate for the lack of history from which the Akvatari could draw. Everyone should be free to belong to any group or nation they wanted. Of course, not everyone could reach a state of total assimilation, but at least play to the culture they liked best. They should have the chance to do so. But the Akvatari had been given a nature that simply prevented that. It almost seemed as if some unknown deity had deliberately crafted them and then disappeared just to see how they would cope with their fate. So the Akvatari sat there, watery blue eyes watching her shadow grow long and the ocean dark as the sun set behind her back. Her thoughts were elsewhere, but deep down she would never falter in her own beliefs. She was an artist. Period.

[Nimvahlis]

Syna was sinking westward, surrendering her dominion over the sky as the world swallowed her. This fact wrapped itself tightly about Nimvahlis as his wings beat, carrying him south to the rolling plains of Cyphrus. Time grew short before the small gift the sun gave him would dissolve as Leth took control of the sky. When that happened, the tail and wings of this form would shimmer and disappear like Syna, replaced by a body of living marble. It was a bitter notion though, that he needed this current body for a task such as travel, but still his violet wings propelled him as the last shreds of daylight slipped away. Shades of translucent red and silver glistened in the sun ahead. The large wings of a butterfly, attached to a human torso, and the unmistakably colored tail all shouted the same word- Akvatari. A slew of memories forced themselves upon Nimvahlis, some pleasant but many not. Many decades had been spent in the soaring city, translating the language of emotion to that of art. Yet he had grown bored, for though he learned to appreciate the subtleties of an aura, the congruences were overwhelming. Sadness, art, peace, all the same. This was not to say he had broken free of the melancholic state that plagued his race, but within him burned a desire for variance. What will I find now? It had been a lifetime ago. The Akvatari sitting on the beach faced the calmly roiling waters of the ocean, seemingly drawn into the entrancing metronome of its waves. The lower part of the beach found itself mercilessly washed by the salty water as the tide rolled in. A chance was taken when Nimvahlis fluttered over to the lone Akvatari, for any lack of intellectual novelty would leave him rather remorseful of this visit. He banked left, flying in front of the beach dweller. Pulling up, he hovered for a moment before settling on the beach to her right. With each exhalation, Nimvahlis pushed the Djed from his core and into the hungry veins of his body. It filled his existence, invoking the sweetest of pleasures. Neither the most decadent palaces of Ahnatep nor the wisest of the Spires' scriptures could parallel the ecstasy that threatened Nimvahlis at that time. This encounter had already proven itself to be worthwhile- any chance to use his magic was. Though the Djed steeped his cells, there was no call from him to dominate her mind or peruse her inner workings. No, Nimvahlis held himself in check now as he contemplated the Akvatari before him. "Greetings, Akvatari. I am Sonblummatos, what is it you call your trade?"

[Sereptinidy]

She didn’t pay attention to the landscape behind her back, although she found the last rays of Syna on her exposed skin comforting. Only a narrow, bright red piece of fabric crossed the line of her back and covered her breasts. When a subtle, all too familiar noise reached her ears, she didn’t turn around to explore its origin. There was no need to either for only seconds later the person creating that noise slipped into range of vision. It wasn’t unusual to see another Akvatari around. Most frequented Ahnatep and the east coast of Sylira in search of publishers and galleries they could sell their works to. Not that they were greedy, not in the least, but most only felt satisfaction when their art was displayed somewhere. It was very likely that all the social skills the Akvatari didn’t possess they poured into their art. Introverted nature displayed itself in color, in shape, in words. That was undoubtedly what they were made for. The other Akvatari came right to the point, she perceived. Sonblummatis … it was an elaborate anagram; that much she could tell. Something the red-winged woman unfortunately didn’t have in store. She inclined her head slightly as a greeting. “Sereptinidy.” Then she hesitated, letting her gaze wander over the silver hair and tail of the other Akvatari. He was a beautiful exemplar, but weren’t they all, with their wonderfully translucent butterfly wings? In Ahnatep she had seen what others thought of beauty, though, and couldn’t be sure about its definition anymore. It was obvious, though, that this one didn’t give a damn to beauty. He was interested in art, and that was something Sereptinidy could appreciate. She briefly wondered how skilled of an artist was hidden behind his direct words. It was very likely that he was more a professional than she was though … Maybe she could learn from him? “I write”, she eventually said. Then, after another short pause: “I take it you follow a different path in your life?” It was a strange formulation, but then Sereptinidy really did notice something about him that was off for an Akvatari. Perhaps he practiced one of the more eccentric arts?

[Nimvahlis]

Idle wings beat slowly, silently. Nimvahlis contemplated the words, and the answer that had commenced coalescence in his labyrinthine mind. What iterations would spill from his mouth? Buried was the word hypnotist, and Nim ensured it would never be heard by mortal ears. He was not a hypnotist, he was an "aurist. I am an aurist." Yet that was not complete. Buried within Sonblummatis was a painter, and at some point in time he would have said as such before he ever mentioned auristics. When did I stop being an artist, and become a magician? Nay, artistry still ran within his veins; for it was not a descent he had embraced, but rather the transcendence of mediums. How was this conveyed? How would he tell Sereptinidy that "I was once a painter though, many years ago." As if the confession of his profession sent the spinning desire careening over the edge, warm Djed seeped into his eyes and intertwined with his vision. Sereptinidy's skin burst, inundating the air with colors and designs. The Ethaefal's nerves prickled as he suddenly felt her skin brushing against his own, her heat seeping into his fingers as they explored her body. The strong scent of the sea filled his nostrils, and the taste of her neck lingered in Nim's mouth as the impressions bombarded him. Though a plethora of sensory input tantalized the Akvatari, the only outward indicators lay with the goose flesh spreading over his skin and the pleased smile that crossed his face. His focus sharpened, the typical hues of cerulean and sapphire limning her delicate form. She was of course melancholic, sad and depressed as most Akvatari. Vast, quiet matrixes of lines appeared in the blues, each design inevitably leading to herself. Small streams made their way along these ley lines, a small trickle of the world into Sereptinidy. Observant? His wings continued to beat as he observed the female before him. Line vines his mind wrapped around her, twisting and contorting to take in every facet. They snaked up her tail, spiraling around her arms, unveiling Sereptinidy as he observed her on a level more than skin deep. As his powers of auristics grew to the magnitude he had once attained, he would reveal people such as Sereptinidy to himself. Entomb each subject in the glorious state of being known, tenderly pull away their secrets until I have known them for who they are, who they have been, and who they will one day be. Yet that day had not yet come, and the Akvatari found himself bombarded with only vague notions Yet, there was something else within the pattern, a faint smell that Nimvahlis could not dismiss. The scent coiled itself around his nostrils as he breathed it in. Familiarity. Yes, this same notion swamped his own aura; although this sensation had a peculiar tinge to it. It was fainter, and less personalized than the smell that hung about Nim. Where his interwove and mingled with every facet of his being, this scent stood out as its own entity on the woman. "You smell of magic, Sereptinidy.

[Sereptinidy]

So he was a magician. That surprised Sereptinidy for she had believed herself to be the only one in Abura to be truly obsessed with magic. There had been others, reading up on the topic, perhaps even aiding their own artworks with what magic could do, but never had she heard about a case such as hers. Perhaps there had been in the past … She hadn’t been too eager to research the topic either. It had already been too late when she noticed anyway. Still Sonblummatis had obviously chosen a slightly different path of magic. During her youth Sereptinidy had focused more and more on a single discipline, crossing all the others out after superficial analysis. Nothing was as interesting to her artist nature as just that one discipline. So she wasn’t even sure whether the meaning of auristics she remembered was the right one. Aurists saw colors, expanded their vision to see something others didn’t. That was what she remembered. It suited a painter, too. Hadn’t she seen something of interest at Lemanychol? A long time ago, being barely a teenager? Tilting her head, the female wondered: “A painter then. And a successful one too, if it really is your name I remember.” Success was important to her, after all, and this other Akvatari apparently deserved some more respect. As silence stretched out between them, Sereptinidy turned to watch the sunset. Syna’s rays turned to golden and orange hues, casting long shadows and painting the two creatures at the shore in a magnificent light. She briefly wondered if such wonders of nature could even be caught in words. As an artist, Sereptinidy featured an affinity for describing landscapes. In the visual arts, such works would have been called still lifes. For a writer, they were of no significance. One day, she had promised herself though, she would make a unique and original writing style out of her affinities. Suddenly Sonblummatis interrupted her thoughts. Smell of magic …? Mildly surprised, she faced him. The words of a response didn’t yet find her, but her watery blue stare met his filled with curiosity and, undoubtedly, passion. A small part of her rang the alarm clock, but she pushed it aside. This was a chance she hadn’t gotten in half an eternity. “Is this what auristics does?” she asked, a bit cautious, but visibly intrigued. “Unfortunately I haven’t learned to use my own Djed. But I have dwelled in alchemical studies for quite some time.” Perhaps he could read the understatement in her aura to which Sereptinidy, of course, was oblivious. Her thoughts drifted back in time, to those endless weeks she needed to recover after nearly killing her with magic. The other Akvatari might see the old wounds in her aura … and the burning desire, a thirst that could never be sated. Despite her recovery and the long time she hadn’t made use of her alchemical knowledge, Sereptinidy still longed for delving into the secrets of her chosen discipline once more. Deeper and deeper she would dive into its embrace if she only got the chance. That, of course, was unlikely considering the circumstances.

[Nimvahlis]

Her aura changed with his query, each delicately hewn packet of information shuddered under resurgence. Of what, the aurist could not be entirely sure. Her blues transmuted, caving in to expose the hollowness. His brain spun like a top as he focused, and familiarity struck him like lightning. Congruency rang between them, the same insatiable hunger. As Nimvahlis, or rather Sonblummatis at this time, examined the parallel, he began to notice differences. Their vague impressions danced beyond comprehension, and the realization struck that the only reason the aurist had deciphered Sereptinidy's hunger was because it resonated within him as well. So he would investigate. Sonblummatis' concentration wavered as his thoughts shifted, and the aura collapsed to hide within Sereptinidy's delicate form once more. His eyelids suddenly grew heavier as tiredness engaged the emptiness that his magic had left. "Magic is a most fascinating topic is it not? We are alike in our base desires, we share commonality." His wings fluttered a bit as anticipation grew at the thought of a what he would propose, "I confess, I know not the nature of alchemy, and would find enlightenment rather pleasant." A long pause overtook Sonblummatis' speech as he perused the notion growing within his head, "So you must demonstrate your craft for me, Sereptinidy." Though his voice remained untainted by the Djed it often ran thick with, Sonblummatis hoped he could begin the conditioning without it. Yet when the flower blooms, such glorious colors will arise. He turned to see the last slivers of fire begin dipping beneath the earth, he had only a few minutes more at best. Sonblummatis' wings beat, "Will it be necessary to relocate, friend Sereptinidy?" No questions or hesitations were left in him, as far as he was concerned his counterpart would willingly show him her art. After all, magic was art and the Akvatari were creatures of the aforementioned were they not? But is she an Akvatari, or a magician? Memories of days long past shook off their dust as Sonblummatis recalled the years where the question had dispelled sleep and suspended peace. But now I see. The Akvatari form he now inhabited began to blur in the dusk. The phenomenon was difficult to detect in the dusk, yet Sonblummatis knew it would escalate. Within minutes he would be indistinct as if viewed through dewed glass. Enter Nimvahlis.