Casting it all Away (Hadrian)

[Aello]

59 Summer, 511 AV Aello was standing in the center of one of Ravok's many alleyways. This one was quieter than most however, for it was nestled between two slender canals, and the only way to get on or off was by way of an old, rickety wooden bridge, which seemed as though it could collapse into the deep, dark depths of Lake Ravok at any moment. And although it had creaked beneath the weight of her step, Aello was not afraid, knowing that it had withstood her presence before, and that if she did fall, the shore was not all that far away. Aello's things had been stacked only a few feet away from the bridge- her bag on the bottom of the pile, her father's old bow leaning up against that. Her quiver resting just by its side, while her black cloak was draped over the top, as though to conceal what lay beneath, or perhaps, to keep it warm, as though it were some sort of make-shift blanket. Yune had long ago left the girl's shoulder, choosing to take to the sky, stretching her wings. The sky was clear, not a cloud in the sky, the sun dominating the soft blue with its soft yellow and orange hue. Its golden rays trickled down to the earth, caressing Aello's flesh, keeping it warm as it tickled her lips. A gentle breeze swept through the area from time to time, rustling Aello's long brown hair, and sending the surface of the lake into a series of soft ripples. Aello stood silently, the hilt of her cursed blade weighing heavily in the palm of her right hand. Her fingers curling around its smooth surface, tightening their grip from time to time. How long has it been since you first came to me? Aello wondered, having lost track of time. Having lost count of the amount of times it had been taken from her; the amount of times it had gotten her into and out of trouble; the amount of times she had tried to cast it away. But she still remembered that one day, so many moons ago, when the ghost first came to visit, when it drew her into its life. When she had been asked to kill, and had obeyed foolishly; killing the innocent as opposed to forcing the wicked to move on. If only she knew why, perhaps she could be at peace. Aello's grip tightened around the blade as her brow furrowed in frustration. What sort of petching asshole doesn't even tell you why? Aello wondered as she grit her teeth, the tip of the blade pressing even more roughly into her pale flesh; the place just below her right elbow. It send a chill up her spine as she pushed it deeper in frustration, you couldn't even kill him. You couldn't even petching kill him. Aello's body began to tremble as the bloody tip broke her skin, freeing a single, bright red drop of her life force onto the ground. It landed with the most delicate of plops. Gingerly, Aello lifted the blade off her flesh, relieving it of the blade's pressure; its lingering sense of cold; of death. Slowly, Aello turned her hand, so that the blade ran horizontally across her body. She stared at the blood upon the blade, the spots she could not get out. "Even though you have changed those spots have remained. Even though you are more magical now, all the more cursed," she spat, "those petching spots won't go away. No matter how hard you scrub... they won't go away," Aello's voice trailed off, the last of her words coming out no louder than an angry whisper, or perhaps, more the whisper of one who sounded as though they were about to be overcome by a bout of tears. How could should a thing be? How could it never be clean? How can it make you feel so unclean, just to hold it in your hand? Simply to have to refer to it as yours? Aello sighed, hating how dirty she always felt. How convinced that there was always blood on her hands, how it could never be washed away. A single tear rolled down Aello's cheek, causing her flesh to tingle. "I hate you!" she growled, as every muscle in her body tensed, and her heart began to pound in her tiny rib cage. Her eyes were flashing angrily, as though they were being overcome by an inner flame. "I fucking hate you," she whispered, her voice growing all the more intense, that her body shook, that it appeared as though the surface of the water did as well. Slowly, she turned the blade so that it rested against her flesh once more, her grip tightening around the hilt even further. Her flesh was turning a bright red, her knuckles white as the ghost who gave her the blade in the first place. "I petching hate you!" she screamed, as she lifted her arm and tossed the blade towards the lake. The light of the sun reflecting off its silver surface, causing the blood that stained it to glow as it landed on the black waters with a loud plop, and an even larger splash. Aello watched the blade sink, wishing that it would stay at the bottom of the lake. That throwing it away could have done more to satisfy her anger. She couldn't even care that it was gone. How could she when it would be back? When it always came back? As soon as it was out of sight, and the water's surface had stopped rippling, Aello turned her back to that portion of the lake. She petching hated that ghost, and if she could, she would kill it again, and again, and again. For he had turned her into a monster, just as dead inside as was he. "That ghost has ruined everything," Aello whispered, her voice much calmer now. "Every, petching, thing," she added, as she walked over to her things. OOCDon't ask where I was going with this, I don't really know... Aello told me to do it! Feel free to pm me and ask if you need any clarification or anything.

[Hadrian]

Ravok was no less new to him now after a couple of days spent exploring, and the subtle shift of hues in the sky from one to the other, melting and rich, was a change from the stark, clean beauty of the trip up the Kabrin Road and through the forests and mountains. The city of evil was like an overripe peach, its pastel skin hiding the sickly sweet stench of decay. But here he came, scrubbed clean, properly groomed, and clad in black, playing the part of Andry Ellis, dilettante and rich man's son come to play in Ravok while ostensibly seeking new trade routes for his father's wares. Hadrian Aelius was too tempting a figure for the Ebonstryfe; better be someone else for the nonce. Ever cautious, his every outing involved careful control of his aura, a new skill he had acquired recently. Keeping it contained, he let some magical ability show, for it would be easier to accept that he was a low-level magus than to try to hide his magic entirely. But he also cast out into the space around him with his senses, testing each aura that he came across, trying to ferret out danger before it got too close. A troubled spirit was not so rare a thing for Ravok, he thought, but the intensity of the emotional turmoil, so contained that it roiled within whoever the woman was, it near bowled him over. His pace faltered a bit, and slowly he moved toward the place, unerringly following his senses. It couldn't really be called Sight any longer, nor analogous to any other of the five senses as he had tried to teach Auristics to Ethan, but now it was a separate sense, a sixth sense, a feeling for auras in particular and djed in general, so steeped in the magical practice was he, generally skirting the edges of overgiving, but careful never to cross that line. Or cross too far beyond it. Her aura tasted of death, but not her own. It was a familiar sort of scent, much like he sensed back in the spiritist shop in Syliras. A shaman, then, or necromancer. While many a person might recoil in horror, Hadrian did not. He had spent time on the undead isle, and mixed his blood with food to spit out a spiritual repast to repay ghosts who told him things... But this one had power far exceeding his own within the spirit realm. Caution. He probably should have walked away, but sometimes he was like a moth drawn to a flame. Then he turned a corner and saw her. "Hello?"

[Aello]

As soon as Aello heard Hadrian's voice, she looked up from her things and towards him. Now how did we not notice him coming around the bend? Aello wondered, as she took him all in. The man towered over her, and although he was on the lankier side, she figured that he must have made a great deal of noise crossing the bridge in order to get close to her. Well, relatively close, for he still seemed to be well enough away, shrinking towards the dark depths of the lake that surrounded them on all sides. Is he afraid of something? Aello wondered, as she tilted her head slightly to the side; her eyes finally settling on his own. Did he watch that whole scene? The dagger being cast away? she wondered as her gaze became slightly far off, as though she were looking through him. "Hello," Aello replied simply, an edge of her sorrow still making its way into her voice. Oh geez, when did this one get here? How much does he know? Aello wondered. How much did he see? Her cheeks took on the palest of pink tones as she simply stared, his aura refusing to come into view, although she smelled it. For once, something rather atypical for her. Aello smiled weakly as the scent of freshly bound books made its way up and into her nostrils, causing them to flare slightly. She could feel the weight of a rather large book in her hands. She could feel its smooth, leather-bound cover beneath her fingertips, hear the pages turning softly, one by one. But she couldn't sense what the pages had in store for her; what story they told. What they could teach her. Aello closed her eyes a minute, sighing deeply as her palms began to sweat. She felt so foolish, for not knowing what to say; for being caught in such a state of disarray. Just remember to breath, she told herself, and try not to worry so much. Aello gave a slight nod as she opened her eyes again, and peered back at Hadrian. "I'm Aello," she explained, thinking it best to introduce herself to him as her mind whispered generally useless bits of information about him- things like how he liked to learn, and used magic much as she did. Although, he didn't seem as skilled, just a beginner when it came to auristics. It was how he knew... "And who might you be?" Aello asked, figuring that if Hadrian got to know her name, she may as well know his as well. "And what brought you to this part of the city of all things? It's not exactly... well-populated or exciting, or even in the way. In fact, it's kind of off the well-beaten track," she commented, knowing only that he knew of some level of her distress, and not that he had used his magic to find her here. Aello shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she awaited an answer, her pupils having just dilated from the use of her magic. She wondered if he was trying to see into her soul too; trying to understand. Using magic, which could so easily help someone, or destroy them.

[Hadrian]

She looked normal enough, but he had spent enough time in Ionu's city to know that looks could be deceiving. Even what he learned via Auristics was suspect if dealing with an illusionist, though it would have to be a rather skilled and clever one to foil his inner eye. This place likely held its illusions, too. Aello. He didn't recognize the name, and when she asked his own, he had been over his story so many times over the trip from Syliras that his answer was automatic, natural even. "Andry," he said, not coming close enough to shake hands. "Andry Ellis." This was, like she said, a place off the beaten path and crime was likely rampant unless the Ebonstryfe kept all that under their collective thumb. "Visiting from Zeltiva. Exploring. A little lost or..." He glanced back over the bridge, having felt where the djed was most cohesive so as not to break the ramshackle thing and, hence, being rather quiet about his crossing. "Well, I think I can get back. Safely...? That's another matter entirely. "Is anything the matter?" he asked, guardedly solicitous.

[Aello]

"Nice to meet you Andry," Aello replied simply, as she eyed him warily. Now why would a complete stranger want to know something like that unless he was trying to take all your money? Aello wondered, as she considered the rest of his words. "How is the old port city anyway?" she asked, "haven't been home in a long time now... probably been a couple of years since leaving the old family cottage," she explained, leaving as much sorrow as she could out of her voice. "Has a lot changed, or is it still the same old boring place?" she inquired, as she kept staring, considering how out of place he seemed in Ravok. After all, there was no room for kindness here, not if you expected to survive longer than a few hours. Aello remained silent for a few moments before continuing. "No, nothing is the matter Andry," she replied calmly, her voice sounding rather neutral. "Now, whatever would give you that idea?" she asked, a part of her wishing she hadn't thrown the dagger away; just in case this potentially crazy person tried to attack her. Auristics; his magic told him so, her mind whispered, long before he'd ever have a chance to respond to her. "It's not as though tears are falling freely, or one has fallen to their knees, crying out in despair... nor is anyone bleeding; taking their last ragged breath." There was a slight pause, as Aello's voice grew lower, and her eyes sparkled, as though she were truly enjoying her words. "No, considering where we are, I'd say things were going pretty well. Don't you think?" Aello asked, knowing full well what this city and the people within it were capable of. Knowing full well that even when the sun was out; it was still shrouded in darkness.

[Hadrian]

"Nice," he mused. He wasn't sure he would agree with that assessment, but he left it alone. "Zeltiva is probably much as you remember it. I don't know your people, though. So I can't speak for them." He kept his aura close, diminished. She might read the eclectic nature of his education, but not its depth in any one field. His greatest fear was becoming a slave-magecrafter to the Ebonstryfe, to work with the Voice's tongue in his ear and Rhysol's cock up his arse, working his magics to take down Syliras and the other Syliran city-states, and then the continent. So many Zeltivans here, and he couldn't understand why. "Well, if all is well, I suppose I can leave you to your business," he said, not wanting trouble, and not willing to risk too much trouble for information that may or may not be available.

[Aello]

"Fair enough," Aello replied, knowing full well that Hadrian couldn't possibly know of 'her people' considering how they'd been dead for a few years now. Knowing full well that everything she had said about her feelings was a lie; and that she dreaded the time the dagger returned to her more than quite the number of other things within this world. The only thing that may be worse for her were thoughts involving the goddess of death, Dira; of displeasing her in some way. Of being forced to serve another; marked by another that she did not deem worthy of her, or that opposed the viewpoints of the one she truly loved. "Travel safely," she whispered as a familiar weight returned to her right hand. Instantly, Aello glanced down, knowing what she would find. There rested the dagger; her fingers curled around the hilt. The blade resting against her pale flesh, its tip ending just below her elbow. The silver seemed to glisten beneath clear droplets of water; the remnants of its time in the lake, while the blood that stained it permanently seemed to fade. Several drops of water rained down from the tip of the blade, falling slowly to the street, landing with a plop that seemed to reverberate loudly within the young spiritist's ears, causing her to wince a little. It felt colder than usual, the blade, now that it had been bathed in unholy waters. Aello smiled weakly up at Hadrian as a shiver shot up her spine and she pressed her fingers more tightly into the hilt, allowing her palm to soak up any moisture that lingered there. "You're back a little earlier than expected," she mused, eyeing the blade playfully, yet with a hint of wariness. "Don't tell me you missed me all that much," she said with a small chuckle, as she looked back up at Hadrian, wondering how he'd take to finding a blade seemingly appear out of nowhere. After all, surely he hadn't seen anything quite like the dagger she wielded before. "Or was it simply that the waters were not so welcoming; not as warm as a woman's flesh?" Aello whispered, so quietly, breathlessly, that it was unlikely Hadrian could hear. Her eyes were sparkling, the silver glint in the blade reflected in her dark brown irises. If only there was a way to keep you from coming back; at least for a little while, Aello thought, then perhaps the darkness that lingers in this place would shadow someone else for a while. And perhaps, that would provide enough time for me to regain some semblance of my sanity... Aello's thoughts trailed off for a few moments, her eyes taking on a far-away look. "What do you make of the blade Andry?" she finally whispered, not truly knowing if she wanted an answer. Or even if he was still around to do so, for all she could see, all she could feel, all she could sense, was it. OOCI wasn't sure you wanted to cut the thread so short... so I improvised... kind of.

[Hadrian]

The blade seemed to appear out of nowhere, though he was certain that there were a fair number of thieves and rogues in Ravok who could probably make a concealed dagger appear from hiding upon their person with a bit of the old sleight of hand. It blazed to his senses with that crystalline, structured form that screamed of magecrafting, and by someone with great skill, possibly even greater than his own. From this distance, it stank of the grave and corruption, and he wondered if she looked so strangely because of its effects. For all he knew, it might have been cursed. He frowned, knowing that if he said too much or asked for a closer look, he would be admitting that he had training in Auristics. But the novelty of it, the innovation, was like a siren call. Even if he was afraid to touch it for fear of contamination the same way he had heeded all those professors who told him that Leeching would be the death of any magus. "That is some kind of a 'crafted death blade you have there," he posited slowly, not closing the gap between them. She looked jumpy enough to stab him if he came too close, and whatever the blade was, he didn't think it was worth that. In any case, if it were truly cursed, the Voice and her god might have had their eye on it. He kept his aura under tight control, a benefit of his mastery that he found quite helpful in navigating Ravok without his skills being evident to any other Aurist. "I don't know if it's the sort of thing you'll want to keep around for very long."

[Aello]

Aello's lips curled, as her eyes glimmered, leaving a somewhat sinister expression upon her face. He seems to take his time to speak, as though he is calculating precisely what to say and how it will come off to those listening, Aello thought, as she moved her thumb off the hilt and onto the lower portion of the blade. She ran her finger slowly over it, taking in the tiny indentations of dried, dark brown blood on her flesh. How each time her finger passed over it, she'd have to force herself not to cringe. It felt so warm, in comparison to the rest of the blade, as though it were the only thing that still carried a trace of life; as though it were the only thing that hadn't yet turned to the dark; been cursed. The clumps of dried blood were small, not enough to force her skin in too deeply as it passed over it. Now why would someone speak in such short terms? Why speak after taking such a long time to consider your words when the question that has been posed is so simple? So straightforward? There was a slight pause as Aello considered what her mind was whispering to her, unless it is not all he is thinking. Unless there is more buzzing around in his mind, but he is not feeling comfortable enough to share... or perhaps, he simply does not know how to put what he is thinking into words. Although, that does seem doubtful. Aello pulled her thumb off the metal blade as a chill shot up her spine. Perhaps he is thinking of something more, perhaps he knows something, or at the very least, can sense that this blade isn't like any other, she thought. After all, he did just witness it materializing out of no where... perhaps that alone has sent him into a minor state of shock, which is making it difficult for him to think clearly, and to respond in a reasonable amount of time. Aello sighed, as she moved her thumb back onto the hilt, and tightened her grip around it, overall. "Every blade is meant to injure another Andry," Aello replied calmy, "why would this one be any different? Why would you find it strange that this blade was created to kill, just like so many others?" There was a slight pause as Aello considered the last of what Hadrian had said again. "What makes you say that Andry? That it is not worth hanging onto?" Aello inquired, truly somewhat curious as to his opinion. "It's just like any other blade really, well, sort of..." And how would he know it's not worth hanging onto, if he just laid his eyes on it for the first time? the young spiritist wondered. OOCSorry this is blah.

[Hadrian]

"I've some experience with death magic," he admitted carefully, alluding to why he called it a death blade when any blade was capable of killing a person. "Not enough to tell you everything about it, but..." He frowned, hesitantly closed his eyes to shut out the more mundane sense in order to focus on the higher one. Her aura shone with a black fire where she held the dagger, marbled with strange other energies of such a high order he could only assume it was god-touched. The sickly, beckoning sense of it made him want to vomit into the canal. "The homegrown god has touched that," he announced, not wanting to even say Rhysol's name. "And something else. Something cleaner." Then he shook his head, retracing his mental steps. "He touched it more recently, after it was made. Underneath the taint, it seems..." He concentrated, all of this attention to detail difficult from the distance between them. Magecrafted items were easier to read when he could hold them in his hands, the tactile connection bringing the aura into blazing clarity. "Well, it's attached itself to you. The attachment can be transferred. Somehow. But you needn't bear it forever if you don't wish to do so. Have you... Have you used it on a ghost?"