Flashback Whispered Words (Verin)

[Venser Rush]

78 Winter, 505 AV Dusk settled upon the city of Ravok as Venser Rush cast his crystalline gaze about. Crossing one of the many bridges set along the canals of the floating city, the teenager wore a mask upon his expression. His chiseled jaw was set in a neutral position, his right hand kept in his coat pocket, fingers clenched around the jaw bone of a small dog. The poor beast was one that Venser had kept tabs on, watching the stray and its mother in their walk in life. Left without food, abandoned by owners that had left the city behind, the dogs were destined for a slow, painful death. And that was exactly what had happened. Venser had not kept track of the mother, but had taken care to learn where the puppy had passed, removing its jaw and spending hours afterwards cleaning it off, removing fur and skin alike. His hands smelled of rot afterwards, though he had managed to wash himself and the jawbone clean. Now, the teenager approached the apartment that he called home, hoping that his father was still wasting away at the local tavern, wondering perhaps if his brother had come home. More than likely, his twin was at home, perhaps worried about the younger twin, wondering where he was. Venser, condmned to a life without a proper, given education, had far more leisure time than his brother, prone now to his own private, and what most would consider morbid pursuits. Malediction called to him, its sweet, unpredictable song resonating in his life, rife with chaos. He wanted the power that such endeavors granted, the reasoning behind it that he could, some day, make use of such a gift to level the playing field with his brute of a father, who left bruises upon the boy's form. Even now, Venser felt the dull pang of pain at his ribcage, hampering his ability to bend to the sides at the waist, the scratches on his face were subtle, though Verin would know what they were from, as well. The elder twin bore similar punishment upon his body, having taken more than one beating for his brother, graciously taking the younger's place as the drunk's punching bag in order to sympathize better with his twin. But, Verin would never know how it felt to live in fear of his father. Verin was the scion, the heir and the son loved by his father, entitled to everything and given everything, though Venser bore no jealousy. His brother shared what he could with him. As the younger twin closed his approach towards the apartment, he noted the silence within, relief flooding Venser's body as the news that his father was not there. He needed a reprieve, a break... Perhaps his brother would provide something of interest to learn or see. Venser, on the other hand, would keep his secrets. He needed to. His brother needed not to share in the pursuit that Venser prized more than nearly everything. "Verin has other things to reflect on," he thought to himself, allowing himself a moment to breathe in the last breath of cold, winter air before pushing the front door to the apartment open. "Hello?" He called out, crystalline orbs casting their gaze about the small apartment as he stepped forward. The teenager would find himself at his and Verin's bedroom door, knocking on the wood as he waited for his brother to answer.

[Verin Rush]

The day had been a long one, just like many others the young adult was subject to. He was to rise early each day, wash dress and eat, before taking a brisk morning walk along the many narrow paths and alleys between the waterways and the buildings. At this time of year, Verin did not relish this task, and, like this morning, would borrow his brother's more worn cloak as further protection against the cold. Upon returning he would continue his studies, with notes left for him and, on very rare occasions, the odd book to read. Today he was alone, and he was bored. Looking towards the dimming sky, the boy decides that is must be nearing five bells past midday. Knowing that his father was unlikely to return until long after darkness had fallen, he pushes his chair away from the desk upon which he had been sitting and stands up. Today had been a day filled with studies of the Ancient Tongue, or rather, it's script. Verin was in no way capable of pronouncing the words, and every attempt was a pathetic failure; he had long since given up, knowing linguistics was never going to be his strongest attribute. He did, however, find great satisfaction in the knowledge that his translation abilities were growing slowly but steadily. When he first began studying the language, at his father's request, the boy found it nigh on impossible to work around the fact that there were so few words in the language, because each word was a homonym for at least one other, often having multiple meanings. Though he could not translate infallibly, he understood that the language was incredibly context-specific, and that it was the clause, rather than the word, which carried the meaning. Truth be told, the boy would have given up on learning the dead language long ago, were it not for his brother, who did not receive the same privileges as he did, and was not deemed worthy of an education by their tyrannical father. Verin knew, however, what the learning off this language meant to his younger brother, and looked forward to the nights, when the knowledge would be shared, to the best of his ability. Running his hands through his hair, Verin wonders, not for the first time, where his younger brother was. It was not uncommon for his twin to disappear in the early hours of the morning in order to avoid the random swings of their father. And Verin understood, but that didn't stop him from missing the other. Heading to the small room they shared, he picks up a crudely designed ball - one of his brother's creations, if he remembered correctly - and, sliding down one of the exterior walls until he was sitting on the floor, tosses up in the air a few times. Only a few chimes pass before he hears the familiar sound of his twin's voice, barely distinct from his own, call through the apartment. “In here,” he replies, a little more animated than he had been a moment ago, though he does not move, or pause from his well-practiced motions of tossing and catching the ball.

[Venser Rush]

The grin that materialized across Venser's expression was of independent manifest. The fact that he and his brother were alone in the household guaranteed a sense of safety that the younger twin was nearly never fully entitled to. A life endangered by the mere fact of existence, Venser would never be one to call this wretched apartment a home. Rather, his home was wherever he and Verin could live safely. It was a wretched life, in truth, for the both of them. Despite his entitlement, Venser knew that Verin despised his father as Venser did, perhaps not quite as intensely, though sympathy certainly did not give the older man any respect from his eldest son. No, the teenager knew that his elder brother was in his corner from the very first time he had stood in for Venser, replacing him as the object of their father's fury. Pushing the door open, Venser took a quick look around the small room. Two beds were visible, separated only by the space necessary for them to safely crawl out of their respective beds in the morning, a lantern hanging on the wall near Verin's (for he was the one privileged enough to have one) headboard. Venser looked to his brother, taking notice of the notebook, filled with the meager scrawl that was his brother's handwriting, as well as a book, presumably one that Verin was studying from. As he sat on the bed across from his brother, he'd notice that he was correct. "The Ancient Tongue, again?" he asked, curiosity overtaking him. They had studied the Tongue of the Ancients weeks before in small detail, and Venser had caught onto the smattering of the language that Verin knew, though he was, in his own opinion, slightly better at pronouncing the words. Writing was where the boy failed miserably. "It's because I'm more used to carving away at bone, isn't it? The parchment's just too... fragile. That has to be it." Caught up in his own thoughts, Venser failed to notice his brother tossing the crudely carved wooden ball until he heard it tossed and caught again, a laugh escaping him, "I really should take another swing at making that. It hurts your hand to catch, doesn't it? It's not entirely round..." He sighed at the admission, knowing better than anyone the limitations at his ability to carve correctly. It had, more than one, caused his Malediction attempts to go awry. It was, in truth, the reason that Venser had returned home one day with rather nasty burns on his hand one night several weeks before.The hand still pained him if he extended his fingers too far. Venser strived to keep the burns a secret, hiding the pain from his expression even hours after it had happened, setting his jaw in a locked position and chewing on his tongue until it had been his turn to speak. He had, or at the very least, he believed that he had succeeded in hiding it, and it mattered little in retrospect, his injuries had become far more severe just a day later, after his father struck him yet again. The wounds continued to scar him long after they faded from his flesh. "Anyway, what do you have planned for us tonight? You've likely had more time to think than I, stuck in here all day as you've been," he teased his brother, reaching forward to lightly punch Verin's shoulder before he looked up, anticipating an interesting answer.

[Verin Rush]

It is as if Verin was looking into a looking glass, or into the canals on a peaceful day, when his brother pushes the door open and walks into the room they share. The smile on his face grows as he sees the identical boy, marking the start of what he hopes would be a memorable evening without their father. Often, the man could be found at the pub, but it is rare for him to be gone so early, so Verin knows they would not be disturbed at all tonight. Though Verin was treated well by his father, the despicable negligence and abuse his twin brother suffered had made him hate the man too. His respect for the man had also been lost long ago, when the god-fearing Verin learnt of his father's own lack of respect for the Gods. Particularly Rhysol. Though their father is not always outspoken about it, it is not a secret through the city and Verin, a devout follower of Rhysol, would often argue with the drunkard about his faith. Fool. At his brother' words, bringing him back to the present, he glances over at the notes he had uncaringly left behind and nods, “As always,” he says wryly. Languages are not his strong point, preferring the sciences to something which he deemed nigh on useless. He did not understand the point of studying a dead language, however much his brother always insisted that it was pivotal to the study of magics, something else that Venser had begun to develop a great interest in. “I don't see why father makes me study this stuff. It's not going to get me anywhere.” What he says,though, is not entirely true; he knows the benefits of the Ancient Tongue, but, other than hypnotism paths older twin has no real interest in magic. “You can go through my notes, if you wish? Or we can go through it together, and continue with the translation? I'm still trying to learn all of the meanings of the words.” For the most part, Verin wants to help his disadvantaged brother to gain the same knowledge as he is offered; he loved his brother, and had always thought of them as equal, no matter his father's opinions. However, the young man has an alternative motive in offering to teach his brother the Ancient Tongue. Recently, Verin had discovered the art of Hypnotism, and was keen to practice it at any chance he received. Currently, the only person who would allow him to do such a thing on him was Venser. The pair would often help each other out selflessly, but, growing up in Ravok, the brothers had long since learnt that it did not work that way in the rest of the city. I'll mention it later...

[Venser Rush]

Wasn't going to get him anywhere? His brother was... so utterly mistaken. With the smattering of the tongue he knew came the realization of how much more he truly needed, the desire manifesting to further his knowledge. More so than ever! Malediction was a harsh craft to learn, the first relics he had created crumbling to dust after weeks, if not days, the crude carvings chipping away, or cracking, the power leaking from the artifacts and rendering them useless. A sigh escaped the young twin as his thoughts led him to those memories, Venser's eyes of ice narrowing as he approached his brother. He needed to amass knowledge, collect it, and more still, apply it to himself. Maledicition was a craft that would only yield results to time, Venser wished for a better use of his time. An understanding that had come to him was that there were magicks that pulled the djed from one's very soul in order to cast, but he had, as of yet, been unable to study further. It was difficult enough to study when one had just recently come to learn to read fluently, the knowledge kept from him by their father. "If that's what you want to do? I had the impression that the Ancient Tongue interested you about as much as our dear father enjoys sobriety." A bitter chuckle escaped his lips as Venser set the book aside, once again hiding the wince as he pulled his hand away, setting it aside with a sort of nonchalance, though his eyes would fill with the pain of injury. Not the best of actors, Venser hoped to the Gods that Verin chose this moment to be unobservant. His brother, while knowing his vague interest in magic, wasn't to learn everything. That would ruin the surprise. For months, Venser had been setting aside small pieces, chips of bone that were roughly the same size and shape, carving tiny letters into them in order to "reward" his brother for all of the sacrifices he had taken upon himself for him. It was within the next few weeks that he planned for the surprise to be unveiled. Not yet... "Maybe we could study at some other time. I feel a bit too lively to study properly.All traces of his wince would be gone, a grin slowly forming upon the twin's features, as he snatched the wooden "ball" from his brother's hands, tossing it up in the air before spinning it atop his index finger. He wondered why his brother was partial to it. He had carved it ages ago, the wear visible upon the surface from both use and inexperience. Unpolished and crudely designed, it was unlikely to last very long. "Definitely have to make you another one of these. Maybe we can throw it around or something. Wear it down some more and give me an excuse to do so." Venser would chuckle before tossing the sphere at his brother, the boy examining his hand for splinters afterwards.

[Verin Rush]

The older twin’s eyes narrowed as he followed the movements of his brother carefully. He did not know where his brother went each day, nor did he find it necessary to enquire – he only needed to know that he was safe and, for the most part, that seemed to be the case. Recently, however, he had begun to notice a change in his brother. Slower movements, which were more careful, and every now and again, a twitch, which seemed to be out of pain. Venser’s expression was as schooled as his brother’s though, and if there was any pain that flashed across his eyes, it disappeared before Verin could question him on it. One day, he promised himself, he would ask. But not now. “I resent that accusation, brother,” he teased lightly, unmoving from his spot on the ground as his brother took the ball and fiddled with it, “I’ll have you know that I value my education highly, as I value yours.” The second bit he said pointedly as he met his brothers eyes; they were in this together, for the long run, and he needed Venser to know that. “And anyway... neither of us are going to amount to anything without learning something. I just don’t understand why a dead language is valuable to anyone.” Verin did know why such studies were useful and he had no intention of learning the magics for which the Ancient Tongue and Script was needed, but he had is suspicions about his younger twin, and wanted Venser to confirm said thoughts. He shrugged, though, “It’s up to you, my notes aren’t going anywhere…” He didn’t really want to do any more work on the language this evening anyway, but he would if Venser asked. Raising his hand, he caught the ball with relative ease. He examines it himself, and doesn’t understand Venser’s words, thinking to himself that the ball was fine; at least, he’d never had any problems with it. He chucked it up in the air with one hand and caught it with the other. On occasion, he would not be paying enough attention, miss it and it fell into his lap, but for the most part his motion was fluid. He wonders… if Venser was too full of energy, would he be too full of energy to sit still and allow Verin to practice a little Hypnotism on him? It was worth a try. “Venser, remember I told you about my wanted to delve into a new craft?” He waited for his brother to nod, knowing that he would know what he meant by ‘craft’. “Well I’ve done some research and what little I can do alone… would you be a willing subject for me? Doesn’t have to be right now, or even today, but at some point…” He trailed off in his question; only his brother was allowed to see his insecurities, which was why he wanted to learn on Venser and no one else.

[Venser Rush]

Verin would likely never understand the subtle connections between what was the Tongue of the Ancients and the infinite space of the magical realm. Venser had begun to delve, if only just, and the information, the potential that was unlock-able through this pursuit was simply... breathtaking. The unpredictability of his own craft, pursued due to the simplistic nature of acquiring the materials, was astounding. Though, he had come to read about Alchemy, another craft that steered through the recesses of change and forced alteration. It seemed that magic as a whole seemed to flirt with the concept of change. His thoughts had trailed on, Venser not quite fully paying attention to his brother as he shook his head, crystalline orbs fixated upon Verin. "Brother..." he'd begin, soon cut off by his brother's continued speaking, arching his eyebrows as he noted his brother's lack of focus. The ball had fallen to his lap as he seemingly hesitated. He had heard something about his brother wishing to embark on a journey into an unnamed 'craft', a word that he could only associate with the pursuit of magic. "Oh? How wonderful, Verin! The pursuit of magic is a worthy path." Perhaps Verin could be told, then. Wait... there was little to no chance that Verin would be studying one of what he had come to know as "World Magicks," as the boy would show signs similar to the ones Venser kept hidden away. Could that mean...? Was he given the opportunity to study the other kind? Jealousy surged through Venser at the realization, though he would not hold it against his brother, incredulity materializing upon his expression, instead. "I'd... um..." Both seeing his brother unsure and learning that he was progressing down the path to greatness ahead of Venser had rendered him quite speechless, the boy stepping back and sitting down upon the bed, his energy dissipated, awe visible in his features as he said, "I will allow it. I trust that you would not endanger me, Verin... I think it could even be now, if you're able. I want to see it. See what you've delved into." A bit of bitterness would enter his tone, at himself for not progressing his own pursuits. His brother left books behind, and Venser himself was more than capable of actively searching for a tutor or some kind of other means of learning how to pull the djed from the soul. To Maledict was yielding no immediate results, his creations crumbling to dust, or injuring him to the point of true endangerment. He had to progress. His brother was doing so, and he seemed to lack the painful consequences that Venser experienced. Venser was adamant in his insistence, crystal orbs staring into the boy's face as his fingers clenched around his knees, eyes boring into Verin. Perhaps he could learn something, anything, from the experience. He had to. He coughed quietly, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he considered his reaction. Perhaps it was a bit harsh, but he didn't care anymore. He simply had to know. He had to see just what his brother knew.

[Verin Rush]

The elder brother kept his pale blue eyes on his twin at all times, careful to watch for any changes in his demeanor as the other digested the question and made his own answer. The brothers had grown up together, and had always shared a room. It was a relatively recent phenomenon that the two spent large sections of their days apart from each other. To this end, they knew each other well, better than most cold hope to know of another in a lifetime. They each knew what made the other tick, and what signs to look out for if one had pushed the other too far. Luckily, that didn’t seem to be the case yet, but Verin frowned all the same; he could tell that he had struck a nerve with his brother. “Look we don’t have-” His own brow shot up as Venser praised his attempts to learn a branch of magic. That gave weight to his own theory that Venser was serious about a pursuit into the world of magic too. He closes his eyes for a second and prayed to Rhysol, hoping that the God would give his brother guidance in his path; Verin knew he could do nothing to stop it, but the boy was impulsive. It was likely a vain hope, but he hoped the Gods would watch over him, as they should them all. “Thank you, Venser,” he said slowly, “It’s a new interest, but one which I hope I might be able to master, in time.” He opened his eyes at the concept of his brother trusting him, however; he was amused at the very idea that Venser might not. If there was no love, or trust, between the brothers, why would Verin sacrifice himself in order to spare his brother from the occasional beatings laid down by their wretched father? Verin also found himself mildly irritated; the fact that Venser had to even mention it meant that he had considered it. There was something in his brother's expression, something dark, that he was trying to hide, a longing for information. Venser was clearly craving something, though Verin wasn't entirely sure what. Perhaps there might not be enough trust between the siblings after all. But Verin bit his tongue, careful not to place the seeds of doubt in his brothers mind just when he was about to practise such a craft on his brother. For a moment, he and his brother stared each other down, pale blue eyes meeting slightly more colourful, crystalline ones. Venser was clearly waiting, and Verin was evidently deciding, until, eventually, he spoke. “Okay… lie on your bed, then. Or sit. Or… just get yourself comfortable, please.” He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but he had to start somewhere.

[Venser Rush]

Perhaps Venser had gone too far in his insistence. His brother not only seemed even more unsure about practicing on him, but there was a trace of annoyance, or perhaps even anger on his face. It was an expression that Venser was unused to seeing on the face that was so similar to his own. I'll tell him. It's the least I can do. Verin and I spend less time around each other everyday, it's up to us to re-forge the trust. There were so many new aspects that Venser had searched into, investing the vast majority of his time into it. Malediction was a harsh mistress, requiring that its practitioner delve into the depths of the dreary. The craft had transformed Venser, if not physically, then mentally. He did little to socialize with others now, seeking refuge in the depths of the mind. The mundane was of little interest to him, the desire to gain power, of any kind, and raise himself to a point where he could rid himself of his suppressor had dominated his time. Magic is the only way to do that. The boy shook his mind of the thought, obeying his brother's instructions and laying upon his bed, looking up at the ceiling as he sought to purify himself of thought. It was an exhausting task, as Venser was always thinking. Staring up at the ceiling, the boy focused, instead of clearing his mind, he banished all other thought from his mind. He envisioned the body, a structure of bones, muscle and skin. Within it, he envisioned the pathways that led from the soul into the physical, envisioning the travel of Djed as he had read about, but unfortunately, lacked the actual experience to imagine. The thought began to upset him, the boy's eyelids wrinkling as he forced them to shut tighter. Stop... Think about your experience, then. Shut the foreign out. Verin's waiting on you. Following his own instructions, the visage of the body, which superimposed itself upon the ceiling, decayed, leaving behind only the skeletal structure. The skull manifested, connecting to vertebrae, which in turn connected to the ribs, shoulder blades and pelvis. The joints connecting to the legs and arms materialized, and in that... Venser envisioned what was left of the Djed when the soul ascended. The skeleton, the most permanent of the bodily remains, manifested as Malediction's favourite medium, the sturdiness of the bone allowing them to last for lifetimes, yet still be clawed at, etched upon, and Venser's personal choice, carved into. He envisioned drawing circles upon each of the limbs, then the skull, carving tales that he did not yet know or understand into the center, and completing the transcription to unlock power. When all other thoughts were finally purified from his mind, the skeleton burning into his thoughts, he opened his mouth to speak, "I am ready."

[Verin Rush]

The elder did not move as the younger sat himself down on the bed and made himself comfortable. Instead, he continued to play with the ball for a moment, throwing it up in the air and catching it a few times. Every so often, his eyes drifted over to his brother, and he watched the rise and fall of Venser’s chest. Deep breaths, he wondered if Venser had an idea of what was coming; clearly he was trying to calm himself… did Venser know more than he was letting on? Had Verin not been as secretive in his private studies as he had hoped? Thinking back, he had mentioned no specifics… “Okay… clear your mind as you lie there, Venser,” he ordered his brother as he chucked the wooden ball onto his own bed and pushed himself up. Using the wall as support, he stood and took the few steps closer to his twin’s bed. He continued to watch his brother, curious to see emotion after emotion pass over his face before he finally relaxed it, at he spoke. At that point, Verin said nothing, but also closed his own eyes, knowing that his brother would be patient – he was clearly curious enough to follow Verin’s instructions. Before he could attempt to do anything with Venser’s mind, he first had to center himself. It was a slow process, and after the activity of attempting to learn more of the Ancient Tongue, Verin’s mind was far from empty. His first attempt failed; thoughts kept running through his brain, unrelated thoughts that he didn’t want. “Just… wait... relax…” he whispered as he tried again. Deep breaths were the key, and with each one he allowed his muscles to relax, tension drifting away from them, until, finally, he felt ready. His eyes opened and he looked down at his brother’s prone form. A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips before dying away: Venser looked at peace, lying there, though the bruise under his left eye was something that Verin would never allow himself to get used to seeing, no matter how many times he had seen it, or similar, upon his brother’s skin, and his own. “Sit up.” He spoke slowly, softly, and his tone was somewhat melodic as he addressed his brother - the initial command, as it were. First, he would try the first technique he had stumbled across: Suggestion. From his readings, he had learnt that the simplest words and phrases were often the most effective. “As with all things in life, never use twenty words when five will do.” Up until then, he had had no idea what he should try to get his brother to do, or say. He debated trying to find out about Venser’s time in the city, about what he got up to. But then, he was risking animosity between himself and his younger twin, something he was keen to avoid at all costs. He could, however, try to use this learning-curve to help his brother, perhaps more than Venser was going to help him.