Closed Prayer of the Refugee (Aislyn)

Of the lives that we've lost, and the lives we've reclaimed.

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Considered one of the most mysterious cities in Mizahar, Alvadas is called The City of Illusions. It is the home of Ionu and the notorious Inverted. This city sits on one of the main crossroads through The Region of Kalea.

Prayer of the Refugee (Aislyn)

Postby Phobius on February 27th, 2017, 7:37 am

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63rd of Winter, 516 AV

Feeling more than a little confused, Phobius watched as the man who'd introduced himself as Liedo hurried down the street. There was a lot that he wanted to ask him, but it seemed like he was in a rush, and he didn't want to slow him down if there was somewhere else that he needed to be or someone else he needed to talk to. Once he rounded a corner and was out of sight, the Inarta looked down at the note that he'd been given and started to read it. Some of the words were simple ones that he'd seen before, but there were others that he had to sound out, doing so under his breath so that no one else would hear him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't talk. There are Listeners everywhere. I've been doing my own watching, I know you sympathise with the Vantha. I do too, it's why I've set up a safehouse for them. I don't know if it will work, but we've got to try. Please come to this house on the 90th. I'll be needing your help then. There's always hope.
~Liedo."


That was all that the man had written. Nevertheless, Phobius stared at the words as though there was something hidden in them, failing to notice that his hands had started to tremble. He knew all about the Vantha, having seen the posters around Alvadas and heard what most Alvads thought of Morwen, the Goddess of Winter. According to them, she had done something wrong, and it was because of that that the Vantha were being hunted down and killed. He hadn't wanted to believe it--the Alvads he knew would never do something as horrible as that to poor, innocent people. Yet the hate in their voices had been real, and those same voices had cursed Morwen's name and sworn to kill all her followers. The few he'd met who were against the violence had warned him to keep quiet about it, lest he was punished for siding with the Vantha, but that hadn't stopped him from wishing that there was something that he could do to help them, and now there was.

Though it took a good deal of effort, Phobius managed to steady his hands after a little while and swallow the fear that had risen like bile in his throat. Then he stuffed the note into his pocket and, with his head down and his eyes fixed on the ruined toes of his boots, started to walk. Honestly, he wasn't sure what to do, next; the 90th was a long ways away, and up until now he'd all but locked himself in his and Dex's house, reluctant to set so much as a single foot outside unless it was to buy some food or deliver something to someone. He could go back home, and was sure that he'd feel much safer there than he did out here, but then what...? What was there to do, other than sit around and wait for something to happen?

At that moment, an idea popped into his head. It'd been a while since he had paid Miss Maya a visit; if he went over to her house right now and showed her the note, she could tell him what he should do. Quite confident in this, the boy began his search, and it didn't take him too long to find it; it always sat next to her mother's wood-carving shop, and the garden in front of it was always filled with dead flowers, which he still found strange and a little sad.

"Miss Maya?" he called when he was at the door, and he knocked on it, the sound uncertain and soft despite the sense of urgency he felt. "It's me, Phobius. Are you in there?"


a
Nari a Common a
Last edited by Phobius on September 19th, 2017, 8:47 pm, edited 5 times in total.
Note: Unless otherwise is stated, Phobius is almost always wearing a blue-beaded bracelet that alters illusions around him based on his mood. That can include player-made illusions. c:
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Phobius
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Prayer of the Refugee (Aislyn)

Postby Aislyn Leavold on February 27th, 2017, 11:04 pm

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"Prayer of the Refugee"
63rd of Winter / 516 AV
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Aislyn was in a good mood. She’d woken up in one, surprisingly enough. It was strange, with the way her mind seemed to work, she’d have long periods of simply nothing, then suddenly one day she’d feel just brilliant. It was more of a physical thing than anything else. There was nothing worse than starting off a day by wanting to go back to sleep.
Today, though. Today, Aislyn was as awake as ever.
Whether she would return to nothingness on the morrow was something she didn't need to worry about, no matter how likely it was to happen. In the most unfortunate way, her good moods often disappeared as quickly as they came. Winter had just been a prime example of this pattern. Winters were always hard on Alvadas, and it was on the final day of fall Aislyn had been cynical enough to wonder what new hell the gods could bring upon them that could possibly top a war of undead creatures and an Alvadas divided in two.

The gods, however, were not to disappoint.

Morwen’s Edict, the hunt on the Vantha. For the moment, Aislyn planned on playing the role of the blissfully ignorant before reality returned. After all, according to the small calendar in her journal, the day was not a multiple of five. It was not a day for Anjani. Yet she also wasn’t particularly inclined to draw anything in particular, but with the sun still high in the sky it was no time for Thief. So, for the moment, she was disillusioned, sitting at the table in the center of her empty abode. Her mother had already left in pursuit of her carving shop, leaving Aislyn to spend the morning at first walking in circles, then walking in circles while also organizing every item she owned, then just walking in circles again. Eventually, of course, she had stopped walking in circles, sitting down to instead draw small circles in charcoal on the tabletop until she eventually grew bored of that as well. Her good mood certainly didn’t mean much if it came with a lack of motivation to actually do anything.

After what seemed like quite a bit more than just a few chimes of sitting, Aislyn rose again. This time she headed for her bed, procuring the set of paints from underneath. The set was neatly fit beside the frame of her old bunk, the pots within the wooden case each spilling their own shade and hue. Aislyn set them each on the table, pulling a clean bowl from the cupboard to fill. Dutifully she topped off each paint pot with water, rejuvenating it. Following this she pulled a single paint brush from her artist’s kit, and found herself at a crossroads. She could pull out a canvas, yes, but she had no art in mind. Twirling the brush between her fingers, she idly pulled the wetted bristles along her arm, creating a bright streak of blue.

That was an idea.

Only just barely pausing to wipe off the blue-tinted bristles, the artist dove into the next colour along. Trailing the blue, the magenta, mixed with just a bit of yellow to make a sunset red. The water made the colours ran into each other, each brushstroke pulling off into another, winding direction. Soon enough both of her arms were covered in whorls and branching arms of paint. By the time she had reached her shoulders, a knock came at the door. With a look through the system of mirrors she had set up for this express purpose, Aislyn found a familiar face.
With just the slightest hint of a smile, the illusionist ran her fingers an inch above her face. Dark hair to light, red eyes to blue, scarred skin to smooth. She hesitated at the marks on her arms. The paint went right along the countless cuts on her wrists, marks that the artist usually kept hidden. Squinting at the skin, Aislyn pulled the illusion along, as if under the paint but over the skin. The paint would remain visible, she’d decided. In just a few moments, Aislyn was gone, replaced with the Maya that Phobius knew. Opening the door, the illusionist held it ajar with her foot as she tied her hair back with an azure ribbon.

"Phobius!" Moving out of the doorway, she motioned for him to come in. "It’s a pleasure."


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Prayer of the Refugee (Aislyn)

Postby Phobius on September 27th, 2017, 6:24 am

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There was no immediate response from the other side of the door, and Phobius frowned a little. In his mind, Miss Maya spent most of her time in the comfort of her own home, either painting pretty pictures for people or drawing even prettier pictures that she could put up on her walls. She worked hard, so he could understand her wanting to take a break every once in a while to stretch her legs, if nothing else, but he'd been hoping that she would be home today of all days; she was one of the few people that he could talk to about something like this.

Just as he started to consider leaving and coming back a little later, the door swung open, and Miss Maya appeared in front of him. "Phobius! It's a pleasure," she said, motioning for him to come in once she'd finished fiddling with her hair, but he was hesitant to move from where he stood. Liedo had warned him about Listeners in his note; what if some of them were watching him right now? He had no idea what they looked like, so it'd be impossible for him to pick one out of an average crowd of Alvads, and if they heard him say something about how bad he felt for the Vantha, there was no telling what terrible things they would do to punish him.

Feeling overcome with a sudden, almost sickening sense of unease, Phobius looked around and slipped inside when he was sure that he wasn't being watched. Then he shut the door and turned to look at Miss Maya. For some reason, there was paint all over her arms; as tempted as he was to ask about it, however, he didn't let it distract him, focusing instead on fishing the note out of his pocket. Once he had it, he held it out to her so that she could take it. It was a bit crumpled, but he was sure that she would still be able to read the words on it, and he waited until it was in her hands to start speaking. "A man named Liedo gave that to me," he said, keeping his voice low. "He didn't say anything, he... he just gave it to me and walked away. And I didn't know what to do, so I... I came here. To show it to you."

With that he fell silent, stuffing his hands into his pockets and nervously licking at lips as he waited for the artist to reach a verdict.


a
Nari a Common a
Note: Unless otherwise is stated, Phobius is almost always wearing a blue-beaded bracelet that alters illusions around him based on his mood. That can include player-made illusions. c:
User avatar
Phobius
Perpetually Curious
 
Posts: 327
Words: 283495
Joined roleplay: May 30th, 2014, 12:08 am
Location: Alvadas
Race: Human, Inarta
Character sheet
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