Flashback Alone and Newly Dead (Evalin)

[Orinei]

Fall, 410 AV
The Slag Heap Fire

Vaguely, she wondered how firelight looked when it was flickering in dead eyes.

The air around her was filled with the dull roar of the denizens of Sunberth: they raucously celebrated, drunkenly stumbled about, fell into each others’ arms reeking of drink. It was windy that night; it whistled, tugging at the skirts of women, causing the great, ever-burning slag heap to throw out sparks and crackling noises. If nothing else, the breeze was helping with the acrid smell of the fire, and spreading the warmth of the flame through the people surrounding it.

For Orinei, the wind had chosen her hair; it was long and black, loose, falling to the middle of her back. The wind picked it up, swirling it about her face. It was the only thing about her that moved. She had gone largely unnoticed by the revelers surrounding the great fire. In this new form, she was sluggish and slow to react; she had slowly made her way to this place from the center of town, drawn by the glow in the distance. It wasn’t as if she had anything better to do. She was looking down the barrel of eternity; she no longer needed food, water, breath, sleep…nothing. She simply existed. She was terrified. She was numb. All she had in this moment were the clothes on her back, and the wall of the ramshackle, gutted building she currently leaned against.

She had been in Sunberth nearly three days. She hadn’t quite learned how to be awake day and night, yet; back on Sahova, she had been assured it would come in time. Of course, it hadn’t yet, and she was become restless. She had spent those three days wandering the city, dragging her feet through the streets, allowing herself to experience without truly experiencing. The nights, so far, had been the worst. At least during the day she could wander without being bothered; the streets teemed with people, and she looked too poor to be a target for theft. Her black dress, though fitted well, was beginning to fray around the hem, as was her cloak. The only material things she possessed were a handful of mizas, and her mother’s compact. Those she kept in a hidden pocket, close to her heart, fiercely guarded. Everything she had, in a small hidden pocket.

At night, things were different. Rumors of vigilantes, wolves, unimaginable horrors abounded. She was already dead—she was still getting used to thinking that—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid. She was noticed much more easily at night, when fewer people deigned to be on the streets unless they had good (presumably meaning bad) reasons to be doing so. So she decided that this night—this third sleepless night in this completely new city—would be spent in a place where there were people, at least. People who wouldn’t care about a scared, lone Nuit just trying to plan her next move.

Closing her eyes, running a hand through her hair (a nervous habit retained from her human life) she was unable to stop her mind from racing straight back to the circumstances that had brought her here. She heard the hushed voices of her twin sisters (she’d considered them sisters, at least) telling her what was going on, that nuits were dying, that they were getting out and she should too. She heard the agonized cries of the wizard who’d transformed her into this immortal creature she would forevermore be, ripped apart by one of his own creations. She felt the fear race through her still heart once more, re-lived her terrified flight to the harbor, heard her quavering voice once more ask a captain for passage to wherever he was going, anywhere but here—it didn’t matter to her at the time.

She felt the relief that had washed over her when she could no longer see the undead isle on the horizon. She had stayed above deck, wrapped in her cloak, letting the mist hit her face until it was gone. Then she’d gone below decks and stayed there. She exhaled deeply—again, a habit left over from her mortal life. It hadn’t been all that long ago, after all, that she was human. Only a season and a half. She’d stopped counting the days like she had in the beginning.

“’Ey! Whatchadoing over there…” The shout of an inebriated man, stumbling haphazardly toward her, snapped her swiftly out of the reverie she’d been in. Reflexively, she pulled a fold of her cloak up to cover her face—she’d quickly figured out that people didn’t like seeing her nuit’s black tongue, but she hadn’t quite figured out how to talk without displaying it. Her eyes had already widened with fear, pupils shrinking to pinpricks. “Go away!” she said, as firmly as she could, though it was muffled by the fabric. The drunk was undeterred, nearly falling onto her as she slid her back up the side of the building so she’d at least be standing. She wasn’t sure she could do much to resist if he tried to hurt her. And at this point, she was expecting that of people that actually paid attention to her. She was now backed up against the wall of the building, and the man inched closer and closer—they were nearly touching. “You got awful pretty eyes,” he mumbled, and she could feel his hot breath on her face, smelled the wine radiating from his pores.

Letting the cloak fall from her face, she fixed him with her deadest stare, unblinking, unmoving. “I said, go away,” she repeated, this time not bothering—in fact trying—to show him her tongue. She wanted to scare him, and she had. The man was immediately taken aback, stumbling backward so quickly he nearly lost his footing. “’M sorry,” he mumbled, quickly turning, rejoining some group of drunks he’d apparently left to pursue her.

Once he’d gone, she sighed. She’d never been like this in her human life. Unable to protect herself, unable to come up with so much as a stinging remark, unable to figure out just what it was she was supposed to do next. She slid back down the wall until she was seated on the ground, not looking like much more than a pile of black fabric.

She mused, a tiny smile coming to her lips, wondering if immortality would always be this lonely.

OOC :

This is what Orinei looks like right now: I suppose...possibly less alive-looking, though, haha.

[Evalin]

The darkness parted before the cloaked and hooded figure that made her way through the near empty streets. In her hand she held a beautifully ornate staff which made resounding thumps on the stones as her progress continued forward. Evalin's eyes scanned the city with mild disgust and irritation, Be damned that man sending me here as if I were but his errand girl. What I would that I could twist that dreadful grip from his lips and rest from him that pride of the ages.

A growl curled in her throat, yet quickly was silenced as she passed a group of intoxicated mortals. As normal Evalin paid them little mind, yet a phrase caught her attention, so unusual in a city such as this.

" 'er eyes were dead as a corpse I tell ye!" One said, stumbling even as he did. Those who accompanined him laughed, pulling him up and pushing him onward, "Course ya did ha ha. An' I just saw m'self a fair lass with bat wings down that last alley."

Pausing Evalin looked back toward the men, eyebrow raised, then looked back at the path they had come. Her mind turned over a pondering or two, and with a shrug she gave into her own curiosity, What chance could there be... yet what else have I to do this night. Let this be my passing fancy for the evening then.

And so it was that Evalin, so uncaring and upon a whim, ventured down that alley way and just changed upon the figure that sat curled against the wall. The sound of her staff proceeded her, and Evalin cared not if this child knew of her coming. Walking slowly, with patient steps, head held high yet features shadowed by her hood, the Immortal would come to a halt just a few paces back. Leaning upon her staff those eyes red as freshly spilt blood would fall upon the girl, this child who stunk of immortality as well, and smile a small, and not kind, smile, "Well then, perhaps mine visit here might not be so unbearably dull after all." She chuckled, leaning down, "What be you that frighten the poor mortals?"

[Orinei]

After the man had retreated, Orinei had regained some small sense of composure, even if it had only manifested in the quieting of her thoughts. So peculiar, she thought, to feel so frightened without the feeling of a heart hammering in your chest. Though her chest still held the requisite organs for human life, they were stilled, frozen by the ichor that ran through her veins. The feeling of fear--even without the heart palpitations--had not been far from her chest cavity since those unfortunate events had begun to occur on Sahova.

She had felt safe for a moment, letting the the glow of the giant peaty fire warm her from a distance, but the fear promptly welled up once more as soon as she heard the thumps of Evalin's staff on the ground. She thought for a moment that the cloaked figure was simply passing through, but a sinking feeling in her gut told her that was not the case. The thumps were getting louder. And louder. Her eyes were shut, trying to mentally will whatever intruder this was to go away. Louder. Until she opened her eyes--crisply blue, but deadened--and found Evalin's blood-red ones.

She wasn't sure what frightened her more: the advances of drunk human men, or this....person? Creature? She couldn't put her finger on it. Her limited time in the world of being a Nuit meant that she was fairly inexperienced in spotting them, especially on first glance, at night, without a human to compare them to. In Sahova, of course, she could have pointed out 10 people and 8 or 9 of them would have been Nuits--but not here. Not in the rest of Mizahar, she supposed, somewhat miserably. In any case, Evalin presenting herself was an anomaly--another frightening anomaly. Orinei figured she wasn't human--with those bestial red eyes, how could she be?--but was at a loss. A frightened, stammering loss, once Evalin spoke to her. Once again, she slid herself back up the wall, so she'd at least be able to attempt escape if things went sour.

"I'm--I'm nothing," she said meekly, shaking her head rather violently; she pondered revealing her true identity to this unexpected visitor--trying the scare tactic once more--but she felt, somehow, that this woman wouldn't be easily scared. She wasn't even sure of the woman's interest, after all. "I didn't mean to scare the human. I couldn't help it." She couldn't stifle the very tiny smile that had come to her lips at that last quip; she also didn't realize that she had probably just identified herself as something other than human, if the other woman hadn't realized it already.

She shifted her eyes around, never letting them stay fixed on one thing for too long; the woman's eyes unsettled her, and she wanted to be able to plan her evasion if need be. The woman's words replayed in her head, and upon that second thought was when Orinei realized that she had an interesting way of speaking--almost archaic in her syntax. That was as far as her puzzlement went. She had a moment of bravery: this was no drunken man. This was simply another small-framed woman. She could defend herself, here. Throwing caution to the wind, she bravely asked, "And who are you to disturb me, here?"

Little did she know that this woman was far more dangerous than any drunk she might have come across.

[Evalin]

Evalin cherished it, reveled in the confused and uncertain gazes cast about her but never locking onto her form. Yes the immortal could feel it, sense it, that growing uncertainty that came when faced with something unknown. It was what many felt when they first met her, first gazed into her blood red pulls as deep as the Suvan Sea. It was, perhaps, one of the few pleasures the woman allowed herself in this endless eternity, yet then the infant had to shatter the dream and play pretend to posses the courage to face this most terrifying of presences.

That smallest of smiles slowly slipped from cold dead lips, leaving behind what once was a slightly amused look to become a stony mask. Shadows played under her eyes and at her cheeks, casting a deep darkness to fill in the gaps and give her already annoyed look a rather ghoulish effect. Straightening Evalin raised her staff, speaking slowly as she stared unblinkingly at the child, "Who am I...?" In her minds eye Evalin formed a picture of a circle, carved it into her brain in fiery lines that she then embedded in her very djed, coursing it down into the staff, "I am she who walks eternity. I am the consumer of lights, the expanding darkness. I am the silence before death, I am the knife that bears first blood." Furry lit her red eyes as she slammed her staff down on the stones, flames leaping out from its tip to surround Evalin and Orinei, "I am the flame which burns eternal, I am the Sorceress of Flame and Shadow." The fire ceased and in their place was left a black circle, scorch marks that encircled them both.

Evalin's hand tightened on her staff and she glared at Orinei, "I am the Contractor, I am she who defies Fate." Then she moved. She moved fast, faster than any nuit, faster than most humans, closing the distance between Orinei and herself in an instant. Her cold fingers found the child's throat, pushing her back to pin her against the wall as she leaned in close to whisper in her ear, "I am the Immortal witch Evalin. She who will see this world burn to ash." Leaning back enough to stare deep into Orinei's eyes with her own red ones, mere inches away, she asked, "And who... are... you... Though it was a simple question the meaning there was so much more. Who are you that would question me? Who are you that would stand up to me? Who are you to act so brave in my presence?

That smile returned, a creeping grin that split those pale lips in two as a black tongue extended to lick the girl's cheek, "Tell me girl... why should you not die by my hand this very second?"

[Orinei]

The moment that Evalin’s smile began to fade was the moment Orinei began to sense trouble. She’d always been flighty, even in life, and the events of the last few weeks had done nothing but increase those tendencies. Problematically, her reflexes were not what they’d been as a human. She might still have her human body, but she moved half as quickly. Her mind moved at the same speed, if not faster, which frustrated her to no end—especially in dark alleys when confronted by absolutely terrifying creatures.

As Evalin’s expression changed, Orinei’s did as well. Her eyes widened, and their constant movement ended. She was transfixed; her ice-chip irises stared into Evalin’s pools of blood, round as mizas. Her mouth fell open slightly in surprise, her face becoming perhaps even paler than it was to begin with. She was only able to tear her eyes away from Evalin’s for a second, her unease heightening; she stared around like a trapped animal, but could not move. She was paralyzed with fear, in the truest sense of the words.

That was all before Evalin began to speak. When she began to tell Orinei, in no uncertain terms, exactly who she was, every hair on Orinei’s body stood up, goosebumps racking her flesh. Evalin’s voice seemed to reverberate and echo in her ears, and her eyes, once so dead, were nearly rolling in their sockets, searching for a way out. The mere possibility of that escape was dashed as the ring of fire erupted around them. A hoarse cry finally escaped her lips, but in her fear she was rendered incapable of speech. She wrapped her arms around herself, tightly, clutching at her own sleeves for dear life, back pressed flush with the wall behind her. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut, attempting to regain some semblance of control. The fire burned hot, almost excruciatingly so, and she could feel it lapping like so many tongues at her face.

Then suddenly the fire ceased. She opened her eyes, tears streaming already, trembling. She thought her ordeal might be over, but those thoughts quickly fled her terrorized mind as Evalin’s hand found its way to her throat. She had no time to remark upon the quickness of the Nuit’s actions; she let out another yelp, strangled and gurgling this time, face contorted in fear. This time, though, her eyes did not waver; though she struggled, fists now pounding against the wall behind her, she stared deeply into Evalin’s unsettling gaze. She had not felt so close to death since she had, in effect, died—when she’d become this immortal creature she was now destined to be. She barely registered Evalin’s black tongue grazing her cheek, still mad with fear, struggling to escape even though on some level she knew it was impossible. She wondered if she would die, here, having angered this defier of Fate. Could I truly die, now? Am I not immortal, as promised?

And as such, she somehow managed to choke out her reply, straining in the immortal witch’s clutches. “Because—“ she struggled to speak, her vocal cords reduced to a gravelly whisper. “I’m…already dead.” It was meant completely seriously, and the desperate pain in her eyes would show it. Her courage was gone—it had flown out of her like a terrified bird at the first echoes of Evalin’s voice, the first moment of searing flame. It was simply the only reason that came to her, here in this direst of moments.

[Evalin]

Those eyes of red stared unwavering, looking at Orinei, staring through her, into her in search for... Evalin was not sure. Something, anything. Thus it was that the child's answer caught her off guard, and Evalin blinked in surprise. Amusement lit her features as she smiled once more, showing her teeth in a twisted grin as she chuckled, "Ah... I will say that is the first I have heard of such an excuse, though it will suffice."

Releasing the girl's throat Evalin would step back, leaning upon her staff as she looked down at Orinei, "Though I would protest against your lack of breath as an excuse for anything further."

Evalin stood over the girl, a figure etched into the very fabric of eternity. There was confidence in her posture, a haughty pride and arrogance that had been hard earned. Wisdom and knowledge filled her gaze, as well as a power, a blood lust and sense of danger. She looked upon the child with cold indifference as she spoke, "Quit your groveling. Tis not fitting of one such as you. Stand. Stand now and speak your name." she waved her hand absently in the air, "And tell me of your purpose here child."

[Orinei]

As soon as Evalin let her down, Orinei’s hand went to her throat, gently massaging her cold skin. True, Evalin wouldn’t have been able to choke her—she didn’t need to breathe, after all—but it had hurt. And it wasn’t as if Evalin wouldn’t have been able to kill her: Orinei had been completely at her mercy. She knew that. So, such as the situation was, she was frozen, still as a statue, back flat against the wall, fixing Evalin with a rather scared and baleful look.

The tiniest of smiles came to her lips after she was freed from Evalin’s grasp, though; a rather delayed response to Evalin’s own chuckle. She hadn’t thought it the cleverest of answers—surely, she could do better—but better she keep this terrifying woman laughing rather than angry. She made a mental note about how just how clever she’d need to be to keep herself on Evalin’s good side (if there was such a thing). When Evalin laughed, Orinei realized that she might be able to keep herself alive, particularly if she could gain Evalin’s favor. The woman’s mere posture in itself spoke volumes about her power, her demeanor, the way she lived. All things that Orinei was in dire need of learning.

As Evalin stood over her, nearly leering, Orinei’s small smile faded. There was just something about her eyes…the longer Evalin stared at her, the more unsettled Orinei felt. However, with Evalin’s command to stop groveling, she immediately attempted to remedy her posture: she tried to stand straighter, trying to set her features so that she didn’t look so frightened. Of course, her insides felt as if they were fluttering, and if she’d had a heartbeat, the ichor in her veins would have traveled at triple speed. But her face looked quite a bit more steely than it had before.

“Orinei,” she said, her voice slightly tremulous, but still containing strength. “I’m Orinei. My purpose…” she trailed off slightly, chewing at her lower lip. “I’m escaping. I left Sahova not long ago.” She left it at that. If Evalin wanted specifics, well…she’d have to ask, and Orinei wasn’t sure she was up to reliving the whole story right at the moment.

[Evalin]

An eyebrow raised upon the name spoken, "Sahova you say?" Her eyes move toward the docks where the sea spread outward, over in the direction of the grand Citadel that held the ancient knowledge of the oldest nuits. HEr eyes narrowed and Evalin drew her gaze back upon the child, "You say you flee? For what purpose is there in fleeing? If enemies you have made with the likes of THAT place then neither the grandest strongholds or the darkest of pits might save you from their grasp." She paused, mind working quickly, "Yet... it matters not for the moment, for what luck you have to have stumbled upon one such as myself."

Crossing her arms Evalin eyed Orinei up and down, taking stock of her movements, her words and her demeanor. This child was like a cattle being appraised at a market, scanned and judged for ever minor imperfection, yet there was little she could do to alter the forming opinion.

Her eyes suddenly glanced up at the stars, as a sight escaped over pale lips, "Orinei then... That is your name is it not? I have little use for the week and feeble minded, yet what generosity I might have has been extended toward you this night." Clucking her tung Evalin turned, her staff falling upon the stones once more as she made her way into the darkness, "You may follow behind me if you wish, but should you prove a burden I will cast you off without mercy. Come then. I have much to do."

The sounds of Evalin's staff upon the stones would begin to fade as she began to be consumed by the darkness. Not once did the Immortal Witch look back. It mattered not to her if the girl followed or not. This was just a chance encounter, one of little consequence in the end. Though for some reason Evalin felt she had to extend at the very least that singular offer. A symbol as close to kindness as she could ever come.

[Orinei]

Orinei was torn: she wasn’t sure if she should feel like the luckiest girl in the world, or perhaps the unluckiest. To come across another like her in this unforgiving place was surely a blessing—it felt as if the hand of Fate himself was prodding at her back, pushing her toward Evalin. What else, if not Fate, had brought her to this immortal witch, so like her yet so different? But on the other hand, so far, all Evalin had done was grab her by the throat, stare into her very soul with those malicious red eyes, and terrify the living (dead?) wits out of her.

She watched Evalin’s eyes move toward the sea; her own warily followed, and she blinked to clear them of the lingering visions of the undead isle. Like so many of the things the witch had already saw fit to tell her, Evalin’s musings on Sahova only served to frighten Orinei that much more. Her eyes widened very slightly at the mentions of the “grandest strongholds” and “darkest pits” that she might still not be able to escape…before her mind could run away with her, she shook her head slightly, as if trying to dislodge water from her ear. I’ve got this far, haven’t I? she reminded herself. If he’s coming after me, so be it. Let him come. Her bravery, as usual, extended exclusively to her thoughts and not her demeanor.

Her feelings of unease intensified as Evalin looked her over. Those eyes…it was as if she could feel them roving over her like so many uncaring hands, appraising and evaluating her, coldly calculating her potential value. This is it, she thought, finally realizing what it was she had to do. This is how you survive. She knew from Evalin’s appraisal that this was her only shot, and this was not the time to be a fool about it. As Evalin turned to walk away, she swiftly followed, a fluttering of anticipation in her chest, worn boots gently thudding on the ground a few steps behind the witch.

“I’ll come along,” she said, quietly, but firmly enough to be heard. “I’ll make myself useful—and I certainly have more than a feeble mind.” Her tongue, so sharp in her human life, was merely coming into its undead self; it was as much sarcasm as she could muster to simply assert her intelligence. As Evalin walked, Orinei hurried her steps until she was nearly even with the witch, perhaps a half step behind. Realizing she hadn’t addressed Evalin’s questions about her escape—not that she wanted to address them, anyway—she spoke again.

“I fled Sahova, but I have no real enemies. No one truly powerful, that is.” It pained her even to mention it—but she spoke the truth. Only a mad Nuit sought to end her un-life; no important wizard had it in for her. “He’s insane,” she said dismissively. “Out for blood, not revenge. He will not seek me.”

She’d already spoken more in these last few minutes than she had in several days. She found it soothing, in a strange way; even if the other Nuit scared her, it was all but the most welcome sight she’d ever seen to simply be in the company of another like herself.

[Evalin]

"If what you say be true," Evalin replied, red eyes glancing down at Orinei, "Then you be no better off now than you were within the walls of Sahova." She clucked her tongue, walking briskly with the occasional sound of her staff hitting the stones echoing off the silent walls, "Many have called me mad as well. Where I tread blood flows free, and at but a word I might end a life." Chuckling she raised an eyebrow at Orinei, "Why think that you be any safer with me than within that man's clutches? I might as easily turn on you as he."

She let this sink in for a moment, returning her attention to the path before she continued, "But then to kill you would be such a trifle, yet if he might come for you I care not for your fate." Evalin absently fingered a thread from her cloak as she continued, "I see fear in you, despair and uncertainty. You cry of what this man might do to you, and yet I hear nothing in your voice that speaks of intentions to take action to prevent this." She would stop suddenly, eyes turning to gaze fully at Orinei, staring down with hatred and lust for power, "What use is it to cry and preach of your fears? What use is there in running like a mortal from death? Tell me child, do you wish to cower for all of eternity, or do you wish to make this man suffer as much as he has made you?"