His feet hit lightly against the uneven ground of the Sahovan wilderness, the scratch of stubbly grasses scraping against the skin where his sandals did not protect him. The warmth of day was bearable, though with the rush of air into and out of his lungs, it felt far greater in scope that it truly was. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck, cooling at the steady ministrations of the wind's passing touch. The breeze that so often accompanied him seemed to have passed on for the time being, as it was so often wont to do, and so the winds that wrapped around him that morning were of a far more austere nature. There was playfulness within them, certainly, to find a marked of their father lumbering through their airy domain, but they lacked interest, simply testing him with a simple gust or flurry before they sent him on his way.
Atziri had sent him to assist the other initiates with a curious case of narcolepsy. It seemed people were popping up along the northern reaches, and some were far worse for wear than others. The initiates had been more or less conscripted to find those still slumbering and take them back to the citadel. This was, of course, assuming that the individuals were in a position to be escorted, as Atziri had seemed to insinuate that is was entirely possible that those who had fallen asleep would not be waking. He wasn't sure whether this was because the sleep itself was deadly, or if it was due to the helpless nature of sleep that invited the death at the hands of the creatures that forever roamed both above and below the island's surface.
He did not run out of urgency. The island was dangerous enough that he had no doubt those that were met with trouble would be out of his capabilities to assist. Instead, he used the time to further familiarize himself with the djed swept landscape. The steady scuff of his sandals against the earth carried him at a comfortable pace, and though his breath was heavy, the strain of the run had yet to outweigh the benefits of his increased pace. It wasn't until he saw the body that his jog slowed to a more cautious walk. There was nothing particularly unnerving about it, though the inert figure who lay splayed across the ground, covered in little black dots and larger, pale petals, was a fair indication that it was best to approach with at least a small amount of care.
As he neared the body, he found that she was breathing. Immediately after, he recognized her. Keene pulled a glove from his back pocket, slipping it over his hand to pluck one of the blooms from where they had settled over the slumbering form. He felt not urge to wake her, as his interest had already been piqued and captured by what he imagined to be the cause of her current state of unconsciousness. He slowly twirled the petal between his thumb and finger, the winds having since died down into a gentle stirring of the muggy air around them. There was a faint hint of something sweet drifting in the undercurrent, but it was too delicate to properly identify or investigate any further. The petal itself seemed harmless enough, and there were several seeds sticking to it, just as they did to Kamilla's inert form.
Taking a moment to wipe away a trickle of sweat that had sought entrance through his eye, Keene slowed his breathing, concentrating on the ever present nature of his essence, drawing the djed up and along the pathways that had formed to allow him a deeper look into the world around him. With a soft flare, he felt the world grow far less distant, an intimacy of the sense drawing fourth the nature of everything, presenting him with its very essence. Once more, he looked to the petal, only this time, he was met with an aura far more potent than he had imagined. It wasn't so much that the petal itself was infused with some great and terrible power, but there was a faded, blood red haze about it, a whisper of magic, a hint of something far greater than the discarded petal who's beat of life had long since faded. The sweetness grew with his senses, and he could taste the sickly honeyed flavor of the flower's nature, though it was weakened, like if cotton had been placed in one's ears to muffle the true tone of one's voice. Whatever the true nature of the bloom, Keene found it was highly likely it was the cause, and that that cause had been one of machinations hardly natural.
Grabbing hold of his djed once more, Keene pulled it away from the forefront of his senses, coaxing it along the natural flow that sustained his body. He waited a few chimes, his breathing falling into a more calmed state as he allowed the djed to settle before calling upon it once more. This time, however, it sloughed off of his skin, an opalescent cloud that wrapped itself around the petal, drawing upon the plant's djed the tiny crystalline structures shifted in their composition, taking on a rosy hue before he carefully solidified them into the gossamer fractals of his shield's frosty weave. With the remaining djed, he focused on the seeds, layering over the first to keep both petal and seed from affecting anything beyond the firm, insulation of the barriers about them. When that was done, he slipped the petal into his pocket before turning his attentions back to the dark haired woman.
Her face was fully relaxed, no smile nor frown upon it, only the peace of sleep. Had he been one for sentimentality, he might have thought her beautiful, but his mind was far more focused on the fact that she was essentially defenseless in a world of impending danger. Sleeping with abandon was hardly conducive to one's survival. Gently at first, then with incrementally firmer applications, Keene's gloved hand tapped against Kamilla's forehead. "Wake up." Getting no stir, Keene's res drifted from his hands, spreading over the woman in a slow, pale-blue film. With a snap of his fingers, water carefully interspersed with minuscule beads of ice slipped into existence, soaking the woman with a frigid blanket of simultaneous chill from head to foot.
by Kamilla on May 20th, 2015, 12:08 am 
