Completed Bed, Bath and Bondage (Uleru)

[Kuvarakh]

25th of Winter, 513

Wanda was delighted with her new aprons, and it made Kuvarakh feel warm inside. As warm, anyway, as an undead CAN feel inside. Lacking a nice, rich warm blood flow, he was more akin to a side of beef, than a warm body. It did not help that it was winter outside; and that he would soon be swimming in the harbor in winter. Body warmth would not figure into this equation.

Last year, Ionu had decided to grace the city with season-long blizzards in Summer. The populace had hoped that it meant that Winter would be warm. But it had instead featured landlocked icebergs. Open seas were not required in Alvadas for its patron deity to scatter an abundance of gargantuan blocks of ice throughout the routinely shuffled layout of buildings.

Folks were still holding their breath to see if Ionu was truly behaving as mildly as it thus far appeared this year. There had been no wild climates or terrains during the course of this year. And though Ionu's mischief was a source of great diversion from the rut of day-to-day routine, there was a point where it surpassed adventure and became adverse.

But as Kuvarakh made his way to The Patchwork Port, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. That was, of course, a relative term in a city where streets coiled in defiance of physics and houses might be found stacked upside down, or up in trees. Or a waterfall might plunge down a main street, which street would accommodate it by being perpendicular to the ground, the houses jutting sideways into open air. Just another day in Alvadas.

He reached the docks and stepped aside from the boardwalk and trod down the sand to the surf. He had been here plenty of times on shop business. Sometimes, it was to simply pack up buckets of sand for a contract with the glassblowers in town. Other times it was for the water itself. This time it was for shells, simple seashells.

He wanted the scalloped variety. There was a family of Svefra that wanted to have some wood transmuted to carry the texture and scalloped surface of these shells. He did not know exactly what they were going to do with this wood, but that was not his problem. It was probably just some decorative tribute to marine life in general, he guessed,

He walked his way into the waves, unable to resist that same shiver that struck the living when the tender flesh behind the zipper met cold water. This over with, he slid into the water and began to pull himself ever deeper along the sea bed to find some samples of pristine scallop shells.

[Uleru]

There is something in the water. Uleru first noticed when the smell hit her. It's a strange smell, and not quite pleasant. It reminds her when she accidentally stuck her hand in a jar of preserved worms swimming in formaldehyde, thinking they might be editable. And though her sense of smell is quite poor, she was able to take and educated guess and happen upon something she wasn't quite prepared for.

It's a strange, thin figure of a human. Wrapped in winter wear and walking along the ocean floor like it does so every day. Uleru's eyes almost bug out of her head at the sight.

What is this? A ghost? the moulding wonders in the privacy of her mind, thinking of a time a few seasons ago where the ghost of a small Vantha child saw fit to take a stroll through the chilly depths. And chase her through the shallows of Sylira, if she remembers correctly. But no, it cant be. Its too solid, for one thing. It's kicking up clouds of silt as it walks.

She flits closer, hiding behind small stones and waving patches of sea grass as she follows the shadowy form. She briefly entertains the idea that it might be a Konti. But that thought is expelled with an amused snort of bubbles. There is no Konti in sea or sky who looks like that. Even if she were the most overgiven Morpher in all of Miza. Besides, Uleru gets the distinct feeling that this figure is male under all its heavy clothing.

Wait, wait! Could it be a Nuit?

Uleru parts a long patch of sea grass as she sneaks behind a conch to spy. Oh indeed! Could it be? She hasn't seen a Nuit in decades. Not since she met Torias a second time, after she'd met him in his original body nearly a century before that. Ugh. Even thinking about that strange day makes her head hurt.

Though now that she is considering it, it seems to fit more and more. But then something else occurs to her. Could his body be... One of Laviku's possessions? The thought leaves an uncomfortable feeling in her chest. If that body belonged to one of the men who were drowned and reclaimed by the sea god, then isn't that where they should stay?

Uleru finds herself unexpectedly angry. If the owner of that body lived, loved, and died on the the back of the great god, then that is where he should stay. She cant just let it walk out again!

She quickly becomes consumed by the idea of such an act of desecration. Laviku isn't stirring on the other end of her link, but then again she hardly expects him to. So she makes an independent decision to deal with this matter herself. She cant let some dead bugger trope around her territory! She cant let him steal Laviku's dead under her watchful eye!

The Otani leaves the cover of the conch and swims fast with a few undulating strokes of her liquid body, taking on her usual human aspect as she goes. As she gets closer she smiles in a self-satisfied way. It is a Nuit! She knew it all along.

Uleru gives it a wide berth and circles around in front. A hot, oily grey of malcontent distinguishes her form from that of the surrounding water. She does little flips and circles in the water in front of him. As if viewing him from another angle will lift some of the mystery. And he is a mystery all right. He's quite old for a human, his thin grey-streaked hair lifts in a ethereal curtain with the flow and ebb of the water. And his aspect is sunken and thin, but that could be indicative of all Nuits, she supposes.

"What is this? What is this?" she croons, the common language feeling bloated and hollow on her tongue as she tries to speak it through the water. "The drowned don't breath and the dead don't walk. So how can you be doing both?" she smiles in wonder at the novelty of him, but there is a sourness to her lips. "Oh my, theft from the sea king is very severe. What have you done?"

[Kuvarakh]

There was not exactly a bounty of shells on the sea bed here. No doubt Svefra divers had already availed themselves of many of them. Kuvarakh had not tried using shells before. Since both wood and shells were derived from organic sources, there would be an affinity for transmutation that would allow success with less founts or repeated activations. Also, the contract had only stated they wanted the wood to have the "appearance and texture" of a shell. So it was only a cosmetic degree of transmutation.

He looked in his basket and decided he only needed three more. He was already estimating the number of activations and how many founts would need loading for each to complete the work on all the wood. A shell half buried in the sand caught his eye some ten yards beyond some waterlogged driftwood and he turned toward it.

A shadow passed behind him, but he didn't bother turning back to see what it was. It was not so easy for him to turn when fully submerged and he just figured some boat or swimmer had passed overhead. He was not the far from shore here. He picked up the shell, turning it to examine it for flaws.

There was suddenly the strangest sense of words being spoken, in common yet, but hard to discern due to the warbling of the watery effect. "Whablis this? Whablis this? The drobblened don't breabland the debbled doblak." He tried to listen through the bubbly distortion. "So how cabblou be doobling both?" before him stood what he would have guessed to be a ghost. A grayish humanoid figure gazing at him with definite purpose. "Oh bly, thefblom the seabling is vebly severe. What hablou done?"

With effort he grasped what the figure was saying. 'Theft? From the..Sea..King?' he puzzled. He opened his mouth to ask what that was supposed to mean, but remembered he was underwater. It was not from any danger of drowning that he hesitated, but it was still a very unpleasant experience to have his lungs filled with seawater. It would still be a choking ordeal while it went on. Once they were full it would stop, but even then, when he returned to land it was no small problem getting them completely drained again.

He supposed that this ghost , or spirit, or whatever it was, was talking about the seashells he'd been gathering. 'Theft indeed.' he thought indignantly. 'As if everyone doesn't take shells from the beach. Why is she hung up on these?' He handed the one he'd just picked up to her and waved, turning to return to Alvadas. He would make do with the ones he had in his basket.

[Uleru]

Thunk.
 
Uleru whips out her arm and throws the shell back at him with an elastic, whiplike motion. The point of the shell spins through the heavy water to bump against the back of the Nuits greying head.
 
How dare he insult her like that! The Otani's lips are parted in shock and anger, making her look like she just sat on a sea urchin. What, was the shell a bribe? Was he mocking her? And that wave! He is rubbing it in her face, no doubt!
 
She makes wild flails with her skinny arms, motioning to him and to the surrounding water and making horrible screechy sounds that might be considered communication, if he happened to be a parrot. That! she means to say, pushing the last of the bubbles out of her deflating chest, I want that! For there is no way in the wide, petching sea that she'll let him leave with that body now.
 
With a few strokes she is in front of him again, blocking his path. Though this time thankfully silent, having squandered her supply of air. She scowls at him, arms folded high across her chest. If he were to try and get around her, she would move again to block his way. Maybe she can just wait for him to drown and be reclaimed by the sea that way. Nuits do drown, don't they? 

[Kuvarakh]

Something struck the back of his head. It was not painful, but it was obviously done in anger, if the look on the translucent face was any indication. He glared back for a moment, then shook his head in irritation and stooped to pick the thrown shell back up.

The water came suddenly alive with sound; a ghastly, dissonant screeching worthy of a dozen forks scraping porcelain plates. He cringed. Though not truly painful, it was most unpleasant. It was fortunate that he had been a Nuit long enough that the instinctive, sharp intake of breath that would accompany such discomfort was no longer automatic. But the instinct to plug his ears came quite naturally. He dropped the basket to do so, looking down at it briefly, and then looking back up at the strange apparition with a sour, 'Happy NOW?' look.

He decided to make another gesture of contempt and kicked the basket of shells toward the thing, with a dismissive, 'Fine! TAKE the petching thing, then' wave, only to find it alternating between squeezing its own chest and pointing at him.

The friction of the water greatly reduced the inertia of his kick. Not that it mattered, the spirit didn't even seem to notice his surrender of her precious shells. This just made him angrier. 'What childishness!' he simmered, 'She doesn't even WANT the shells, but is determined to not let ME have them! What did I ever do to her?' He snorted a few angry bubbles of his own and stepped forward to grab the basket. That was Wanda's, after all. He made an exaggerated gesture of dumping the shells back out and turned to leave.

He was nearly washed off his feet by a sudden current as the creature "flowed" by him to block his path anew, arms folded stubbornly. A germ of alarm planted itself in Kuvarakh's thoughts. This was no ghost! Not with the water displacement he'd just felt. If this was some actual water creature, this had just become a far more serious matter. Thoughts of what sort of abilities this thing might have began to run rampant in his imagination.

He swallowed his pride and gave the figure a respectful bow and stepped to the side to go around it. It was as though the water thickened to near impenetrable density and he recoiled to find the creature in front of him again. The same folded-arm belligerency now embellished with a smug look on its watery face. Though it didn't seem to possess teeth, or the ability to deliver a sharp damaging blow, it was quite capable of blocking his path.

Kuvarakh wondered if the thing would tire of this game, so he continued to take side steps with intent to go around it, but always it moved with him, blocking him and even bumping him back a few steps. He glared at it a moment, thinking of how to communicate with it. He could use hypnosis, of course, but didn't know how many exchanges he would have to make or what sort of mental backlash he might suffer.

Instead he tried to write in the sand, but the water currents turned his efforts to a swirling cloud which filled in his scrapings to render them unintelligible. A thought occurred to him. He'd lately found he could deliver images as well as words. So he looked back at the basket. Then he thought about the outside of the shop, Alchemmia Alchae, where he worked with Wanda. Then he thought about Wanda. Wanda and him, very happy.

Now he stepped right up to the water creature and generated pressure in his head to bring his hypnotist's djed bubble out. He flowed it toward the figure's head as he built an image of the basket on his arm, and he and Wanda hugging outside the door of the shop. He found it surprisingly tiring to do this and wondered if the medium of water he was performing this in was in some way resistant to his usual djed flow. He had wanted to add the sense of affection he felt for Wanda, but his effort waned before he could quite do it. He hoped it would be enough as he watched for the creature's reaction.

[Uleru]

Uleru grows more and more frustrated as time passes, and the Nuit is still making the effort to step around her. How is he still here? She knows what Nuits are, of course, having met one before; they are reanimated cadavers with someone else's consciousness stuffed inside. But her brief interactions with them gives her no insight as to how they work. Their body has to be at least partially animated, doesn't it? Otherwise they might as well stuff themselves in an animal or a large rock and get the same results.

Even Pycons and Otani need to breath, though they are both single ingredient constructs. So surely something as complicated as a human need to as well. Uleru ponders this as the undying Nuit -at the end of his patience- steps right up to her while clutching his straw basket. Dimly Uleru wonders if he is going to snap and try and deck her in the face. By what he does, and what she feels, leaves her baffled.

In a sudden flash she sees a brightly lit cobbled street in her mind like a resurfaced memory. The Nuit is there, looking drier and much less annoyed, and hugging an older, grey-cloaked woman with curly brown hair. The thought comes with a very subtle feeling of affection for the lady.

The gills on Uleru's sides flare as she sucks in a surprised breath. What, by Laviku's scraggly beard, was that? She has never knowingly run into a Hypnotist, but she knows that some of her kind dabble in the magic to coax offerings and food from reluctant sailors. But could that be it? Is it Hypnotism?

And already a mess of will and intention, some of which isn't hers at all, the Otani immediately mistakes the feeling of affections as hers. Though the thought surely isn't. Does she know this woman? It's not impossible. They could have been friends decades ago while she was still young. She puts that thought aside for now.

Uleru's eyes narrow as she considers the Nuit. And little by little the oily black colour leaves her body, slowly to be replaced by a much less ostentatious blue. Why did he show that to her? What does it accomplish? She's not sure. It doesn't prove his innocence, in any case. It only proves that he is still fine, and she has to help his death along if she plans to leave before nightfall.

Making friendly gestures, the Otani pulls his attention to the center of her chest. Inside the translucent material a fistful of glowing white res is slowly taking shape, pulsing like a living heart. It grows and grows, and she pulls it up to rest lightly at the base of her throat. She smiles at him, but it looks slightly off. Where her teeth always so pointed?

Suddenly her arms snap out and she grabs his face, forcing it back and pressing hard on the hinge of his jaw to open his mouth. She presses her mouth to his like a parody of CPR, and like that the res in her throat comes roaring out of her mouth, where once it's down his throat she taps her Reimancy. He was not drowning on his own, so she will forcefully fill his lungs with water to help him along. If her suspicious about Nuits are correct, he will still drown.

Then she'll take that basket and the shells and go find the woman with the curly hair. And see where this affection stems from.

[Kuvarakh]

It appeared for a moment that his attempt was going to have the desired affect. To communicate that his life was one above the waves. That he had friends up there, that he belonged there. Surely this watery figure would understand that she was holding him by mistake. That he was only here by necessity, and only for a short while.

Then it occurred to him that he may still need to show the use of the shells in an alchemical manner. But that thought was countered by a cautious concern that this may be considered some sort of blasphemy to this thing. He did not know much about the Sea God, or gods. Almost nothing beyond the name "Laviku". The Ethaefal woman, Lacerta, had made some mention of it while he'd spent some time on Mura. But he'd really only listened politely, to make conversation, and had retained little of it.

But he knew something was up when her color began to change. Generally any change from dark to light indicated a positive change. A luminescent bead began to form in her chest. Her gestures were not really necessary to get his attention, but he hoped it was a precursor to some offer of a trade or truce. It grew larger as it moved up into the part of her shape that corresponded to a mortal's throat. It hovered there a moment and Kuvarakh suddenly felt a stab of alarm.

'What if this is Reimancy? What if this is going to be formed into a spear of ice, and stake me to the sea bed? Or even the start of a block of it to imprison me?' He knew either course of action could be deadly to him. If only Alchemy had some combat use! Her smile was strangely threatening, feral even.

His concerns were seemingly confirmed when he tried to pull back and the thing "grabbed" his head. It was the same ability to solidify itself enough to affect him. A back corner of his mind pondered whether this required expenditure of djed on the creature's behalf. But the forefront of his mind was aghast to find a current of water suddenly forced down his throat. 'Myri's Balls! It's trying to drown me!'

The expected chain reaction of gagging and inhaling more water ensued as Kuvarakh choked and writhed in shock. But it quickly turned to anger. He knew he couldn't drown, and he knew as well, from past experience, that the discomfort would pass as soon as his lungs were full. But still, the affrontery, the aggression, without provocation, and the awareness of the chore he was going to still have to deal with to drain his damned lungs drove the shock and alarm right out of his mind, to be replaced by outrage.

He stabilized his lungs in moments and turned glaring eyes toward the creature now. He swung his fist at its head, his sudden aggression taking the thing enough by surprise that its "head" was distorted briefly by the contact. He could see that he'd done no true damage to it, but he felt like returning the insult. So he pressed forward for a change, keeping his arms swinging, a grin forming as he saw the shape discomfited by the onslaught of distorting impacts.

It was yet another phenomenon he found it satisfying to share that, once his lungs filled with water, he could actually sound words with the inhaling and exhaling of water as he formed and forced it past his lips. "Poxed Bitch! What is your problem?...What's the matter? Don't like having someone be rude BACK to you? You think it's your right alone? What did I do to you anyway?" It was a cold, invasive feeling to communicate this way, but he was angry enough to put up with it.

Then another idea struck him. He knew he may be going too far, but his previous thought of "combat uses of alchemy" took on a viable aspect. In all his activations since his University days in Zeltiva, he'd worked alchemy with the meditative representation of a whirlpool to connect his influence to the spinning djed stream.

He let a vicious sneer sour his face as he once again extended his djed bubble to engulf the creature's head. Then he lifted his arms, as if to begin an incantation, and let his mind focus on the image of a slowly growing whirlpool. He let the image grow as clear and realistic as he could while still retaining the focus to send the image into his opponent's mind. He knew the image would only be a flash, so he tried to remember that he needed to maintain the pose of a powerful mage in the midst of a dread casting.

He released the image, hoping the creature would fear itself to be in the presence of a mighty water wizard. 'Take THAT, you petching water worm!' he thought, not considering that this thought might transfer as well...

[Kuvarakh]

Apparently, either the creature did not register his remark, or took it to mean that he was so confident of this power to generate maelstroms that he added it as further punishment. In either event, the watery form backed off with an air of contrition.

Kuvarakh was still angry, but now it was only the thought of the impending draining of his lungs that riled him. He decided to play the diplomacy card now. "What is your name?" he gurgled to the creature. It named itself 'Uleru' and called itself an 'Otani', a servant of Laviku.

Kuvarakh had thought the Sea Lord's name might pop up in conversation with this entity, so he nodded and tried to give a look of regret. "I am sorry if my behavior gave you cause to feel I ought to be detained. I am not of your lord's domain, but I would not seek to take that which would give him, or you, offense. I have not been accosted for collecting seashells before. My intent is to use their texture to modify items used by the Svefra."

He didn't know if there was some other name by which the seafaring nomads were known to this creature, but it brightened noticeably and darted eagerly to return with the dropped basket, collecting the shells willingly now and handing them over to Kuvarakh.

He thanked her and then asked her if he had her leave to go back to land and finish his work. He gave a brief account of the process of alchemy and said he'd been doing it for many years now. The creature asked hesitantly if he'd performed this wonder in the body he now wore. He was unsure of what the purpose of this question was, but took it to at least confirm that the creature knew what a Nuit was.

He felt relief at the knowledge that it knew what he was, but that it was apparently not the reason it had detained him. He answered simply enough that he had "worn" this body for a couple of seasons now, and expected to enjoy a couple of years more from it.

'Uleru' seemed satisfied with this information and made a point of visibly stepping aside and giving him a wave to proceed. Kuvarakh nodded his appreciation and told the Otani that he hoped they would see each other again. Then he took the shells and returned to the shop to get to work.

continued here.

OOCUleru has retired so this had to come to more of an abrupt end than I'd hoped, but she told me to go ahead and have her character back down.

[Shai]

However hopeless the situation appears to be There yet always exists the possibility of putting up a stubborn resistance Kuvarakh : Hypnosis 2 Intimidation 1 Swimming 1 Searching for Scallop Shells Speaking With Water Rather than Air Otani: Laviku’s Servants Uleru The Otani Check : If there are any concerns with my grading please feel free to toss me a PM. I am more than happy to explain my reasons or reevaluate them if you feel I've been unfair.