[The Mirror Lake] On Thin Ice [Open]

[Fantol]

3rd day of Spring, AV 511. Another one skated past him. He sat by the brink of the frozen lake, under a tree whitened and burdened by snow. It was afternoon. The rays of the sun got through the thick clouds every once in a while. Fantol tossed another pebble on the ice surface of the lake, effortless in his throws. He was restless. Only a day had passed since he had entered the city again, he already felt alone. Everyone had their own Holds to cling to, while he was still searching for the one he belonged to. He felt the cold metal of the heirloom around his neck, raising his hand to it. It was the only thing left for him by his parents, or whoever had dropped him in the woods. He found it slightly ironic that he was searching for the very ones who had left him for dead at birth. But, as it was, he had no-one else to seek out. He threw a few more of the small stones, before his green gaze started to follow the skaters on the ice. His eyes had turned to a slightly more dim green, reflecting his melancholy. As he watched the skaters go by, he thought about trying to trip one of them. Just to see what might happen. He could need a little training, after all.

[Berus]

Berus ran fast, faster than he had in a long time, and made it several steps onto the ice before his feet slipped out from underneath him and he landed painfully on his face. However, his momentum kept him sliding painfully forward on his poor pointed nose. Several thoughts crossed his mind, the most prominent of which was a great regret that he wasn’t wearing skates!

A second thought pushed that regret out of his mind, however, as his mind victoriously gloated over his genius idea to run headlong into the lake. In fact, it was even happy that he was sliding painfully along and away from the bank of the frozen lake. This contrasted sharply with the complaints coming from his entire little body yet still stood strong.

He finally stopped and assumed a sitting position, rubbing his now sore nose. The look on his face was not one of sadness and his eyes did not shade to a dark brown, strangely, but was rather one of glee graced by sparking green eyes. There, standing on the ‘beach’ of the frozen lake, was a very angry drunkard who was currently weighing his desire to throttle the boy who’d stolen his drink right from under his mustache against his fear of the pain that would inevitably follow the decision to soldier out onto the ice in his intoxicated state.

The fat man sent the little bard an angry glare and waved at him dismissively as he turned about and shuffled back to the tavern. Berus smiled widely, eyes dancing through several bright colors. Though the man’s last words were a promise that he’d get the youngster back for his mischief, he knew that the drunkard would go back to the tavern and quickly forget ever having seen the little bard after his next drink.

Berus climbed to his feet and dusted the snow off of his clothes, casting his eyes about for the surest route back to nice, snow covered land! Determining the best route was to a nearby tree; he shakily set one foot in front of the other and prayed he did not slip.

He slipped and landed right back on his face.

[Fantol]

Fantol caught sight of the young man as he stumbled around on the ice. When the young man looked back at the brink with mischief in his eyes, Fantol turned his head to see an obese man looking ready to strangle him. When the large pursuer finally gave up and walked back to the tavern, the young man seemed to have some trouble with getting back to solid ground. His feet kept slipping on the troublesome ice, causing him to fall constantly. A laughter builded up through Fantol's throat into a bellowing guffaw, as he watched the bard in his struggles. "Now that's elegant!" he shouted, "Can you do piroutte too?". The sorcerer's gleeful laughter faded slowly, as he wiped his nose and stood up on fresh legs. It seemed the playful mood on the youngster contaminated him as well, pushing the self-pity aside for the moment. He felt a bit sorry for the boy, too, even as it amused him to see his trouble. He leaned his chest in over the brink slightly, holding out his arms as if he would catch him. "Stand up and be still. You won't get anywhere with that dance." He closed his eyes, as their tone started to flare into a fiery orange. What seemed to be an innoccent gesture with his arms, was really a position to focus his djed. He gazed inward to himself, his astral dual, and concentrated in detaching invisible hands from the confines of flesh and bone. It was a bit of a distance to the young man, him standing around 6 yards from the shore. He reached out, glyphs flaring in a dim, white color beneath his fingerless gloves. Feeling the connection to the hands detached from him, he took the young Berus by his shoulders. He felt the linen between his fingers as he took hold of the boy, attempting to heave him up. Then he tried to draw the bard towards himself, using his projection to pull him over the ice slowly and towards the shore. If Berus' balance failed again, so would the magic, but Fantol hoped the boy could abstrihate from panicking and just keep his footing.

[Berus]

“This is really weird…” Berus thought aloud as he started to slide forward on the ice. He felt pressure on his shoulders that was roughly hand shaped, yet they were gentle hands and hadn’t yet smashed him down into the hard ice. In fact, he was now slowly but surely being right over to the safety of good solid ground!

His eyes flicked up to the tree he had been determinedly aiming for and noticed that a man was standing there looking as if he was trying to pull the thin air. He looks ridiculous! Berus thought, suppressing a chuckle. The man looked from here as if he was of small stature and slight build, though probably not as short and tiny as the little bard himself, but he wore odd black clothing that caused Berus to bite back his first greeting.

As he got closer to shore, he started to develop a theory as to how exactly he was being assisted by shore… and why the man was still standing in that same pose. Berus peered at him closely, starting to suspect that this man was a magician using magic to assist him to the ‘beach!’ The little bard froze, trying to decipher how exactly he should react. This magic was mundane enough, yet for all of his life his parents had cautioned him against users of magic as they were part of the reason the world was in its sorry state!

He finally decided that he would rather receive magical assistance to the beach, it was only two more feet away afterall, than freak out and land on his face yet again. Besides, if the black-clothed man meant him harm he probably would have beat him up with his invisible hands out on the ice where the little bard was completely defenseless. As soon as his feet touched the beach, however, he immediately stepped forward away from those helpful hands.

He regarded the helpful, if perhaps dangerous, stranger with eyes shifting through different shades of green. He nodded his thanks but did not extend his hand as was his usual greeting out of caution. Still, his tone was definitely friendly as he thanked the kind man vocally. “Thank you, stranger! I do owe you quite a bit for saving me out there! I do believe I’d have crawled off that ice many hours later sporting several bruises if you hadn’t of come along!”

[Fantol]

As Berus was pulled ashore, Fantol focused on attaching his astral hands back to their origin. It took him some time, leaving a strange pause after what Berus said. He then looked up and grinned in regard. He found the boy to be terribly entertaining, even as he simply thanked him. There seemed to be some sort of glistening life in the bard, making him lively and exciting to behold. Fantol recognised some of that playfulness in the boy that he himself had, but yet unspoiled and ruined by the world. Perhaps that was why he had helped him. He rubbed his cheeks, a bit taken-aback by the overflow of thankful words that streamed out of Berus' mouth. "Well, what can I say? Just doing my - civic duty," he said in a non-chalant manner, the boasting clearly evident. He shook his limps lightly. He always needed to shake that feeling of detaching off afterwards, to become present with the world around him. He felt the consumption on his djed already; this long-drawn act had been a tiring one. He stroke some hair back from his face. "Do you often try to skate the ice with your boots?" He asked teasingly, a small smirk appearing on his face.

[Berus]

Berus relaxed as the man began to speak. Now that he was up closer, he didn’t look quite so ominous in his all-black clothing. In fact, now that the little bard could see his eyes, he found the particular mischievous glint that perhaps identified a kindred soul out in this frozen wasteland. Since his good friends had long since abandoned their trickster ways, he was left alone in his shenanigans, which were now few and far between now that he invested his time in the more noteworthy cause of rending people’s eardrums with his lyre.

He relaxed even further, going as far as to even brighten his boyish grin, as the man teased him! “I do as I must to escape danger, for that crazy man would surely have had my head!” He replied with a wink. “I thought it a shame to die over a few drops of cheap brew and I’d left my skates at home so I decided to bravely try the great frozen expanse.”

Berus finally raised his hand for a friendly handshake, deciding against caution. “I am Berus Snowsong, a dreamer and a would-be bard. What is your name, good friend, and what brings you here?” He spoke lightly as he introduced himself. It would not be right to be rude to someone who had just saved you so much trouble out on the ice!

[Fantol]

"I do as I must to escape danger, for that crazy man would surely have had my head!" Fantol made a brief snicker of recognition. The boy kept talking and talking, words of an almost poetic nature spilling out of his mouth in an unstoppable stream. He did not hear all of it, as his attention flashed back to the crippling sense of numbness in his hands that was slowly subsiding. He worked his wrists absent-mindedly, suddenly hearing the bard asking him of his name. He looked up and regarded Berus for a moment, keeping a bit of his bemuse when he took the hand for a shake. "Good to meet you, Berus," he said, as he raised his other hand and heartily clapped the bard's shoulder as well. He felt the pronounced bone in Berus' arm, speaking of not so much flesh to grip on. He had the lankiness of a young boy, whose muscle and mass was yet to evolve. "I am Fantol. And I am here to find my family." It was not a lie, as he was indeed on a search for his bloodline. He tried to make it sound more innoccent than it was, though his tone could suggest something of serious matter. First then he retracted his hands from the boy, keeping them occupied with holding in the large double belt that crossed his hips. He felt the heavy press of ought-to-do that pushed down his brief spark of joy. "And what of you?" he turned his back to Berus, and took a few steps away, boots trodding through the snow, "What brings you here?". He stopped to eye the surroundings, his gaze following the Mirror Lake. He could still see the rocks he had thrown out on the ice. He hoped someone would trip their fancy skaters over them. "I doubt your first purpose would be to have angry mountains of flesh chasing after you," he spoke over his shoulder, turning slightly with his side towards Berus.

[Berus]

Berus frowned as the man stated so casually he was trying to find his family, though the words were dripping with some emotion the little bard couldn’t decipher. He was not left much time to consider it, though, as the man soldiered on, asking him questions as to why he was here. The little bard was not to be deterred for long, however, so he hurried his answers so that he could get to his favorite part in a conversation with strange people; the questions.

“Ah, I’m here merely because that err.. angry mountain of flesh chased me here,” Berus said with a boyish grin. “He didn’t take too kindly at all to me stealing his drink right out from under his whiskers and apparently had the energy to chase me all the way out here. I’m rather impressed he had the strength to do that, really, as this is quite a ways away from the Red Diamond.” Berus winked mischievously at the man. “Other than that, not much really. I do need to hang about for a while, though, before I can head back and collect my things at the very least,” he concluded, cursing himself slightly for having to be so hasty in his retreat.

“So what was that about your family? Are they residents here? I’m pretty familiar with all of the holds, really, as I’m a bit of a layabout and have quite a an abundance of spare time,” Berus said, truly curious. This was something quite new and interesting, to say the least. Very few strange people dressed in all black hung around the frosty city in search of their family, for all of the families really lived together in massive holds. He must be a bit of an outsider, he decided, his eyes appreciating the man’s strange choice of dress in a new light.

[Fantol]

Fantol let his head hang a little. It was the question he had tried to avoid somewhat, as it helped reminding him of his poor situation. "I am not certain myself." He walked back to stand infront of Berus, taking out the small silver amulet that hanged around his neck. It had a green jade in its center. He held it up to show it to the bard. "This was all they left me."

[Berus]

Berus scrutinized the green-jade amulet with eyes that shifted into a deep, thoughtful blue. He leaned in close to get a better look as possibilities presumably flooded his mind. Then he stepped back and put one hand thoughtfully to his chin as if he were considering the amulet and what its origins could possibly be.

Then his eyes flashed bright green and he brought his hands up to his sides. “I honestly have no idea where that amulet’s from!” he proclaimed in an overly loud voice, grinning boyishly and winking at the stranger.