Quest [The Lavender Ruins] When The Spirits Cry (Quest)

[Radiant]

Sacred Arch Hotsprings, 4th of Bell, 20th of Spring 514 A.V

The twilight spring air of the Bronze Woods gave off a pleasant smell as Syna was still rising to her full glory, it would take her some bells though. Most people were still sleeping cozy in their apartments, but early risers such as hunters and the ever-patrolling knights could be seen frolicking the Kabrin Road here and there. Near the Sacred Arch Hotpsrings, a popular relaxation spot for civilians, travelers, and knights alike, just fifteen chimes walk north of Syliras, was an unusual knight to those who were not familiar to the Bronze Woods. There stood a massive wolf, her fur as white as snow, and her eyes deep reddish brown, this dire wolf was actually a Kelvic, one named 'Ama', called Radiant White Wolf by the hunters for her deeds of safeguarding the Woods. The old Kelvic heard about Kale Belmont's job of rooting out the ghost problems that travelers had been encountering up in the Cobalt Mountains and she suspected interested adventurers would be gathering here, as always.

"Ama," A sudden voice called out to her, the senior Kelvic turned her head, her eyes gazing at the approaching figures, two of them. One was a woman with back-length pale blond hair, freckled fair skin, and deep amber eyes adorned by eyebags, she wore a studded leather armor complete with a hooded dark cloak, the other figure was an ethereal phantom, a ghost, a man with translucent form and sharp dark eyes. These two were the famous spiritist and ghost duo from the Ethereal Notions, Whisper Addison and her ghostly partner, Duncan Favrie. Both of them couldn't pass up the opportunity to investigate the infamous Lavender Ruins of course, even if Kale Belmont didn't put up the notice, she would do it in the end. The dire wolf kelvic gave a nod in greeting, but she didn't shift to her human form for these duo were few of words.

"So, we shall wait." Whisper approached the Kelvic sat down beside her then started examining her equipments, souldarts, jars filled with soulmist, and ghost beads, these were the things necessary in dealing with fickle spirits, one could never know when they would lash out to attack. Whisper's ghostly companion obediently stood guard in silence, his ethereal eyes watching in their surroundings. The trio would wait for about one bell before setting out on their own. In truth, Whisper was requested by Kale Belmont to lead this little expedition, the pale woman objected at first, saying she could handle in on her own, but Belmont promised to pay her handsomely... she was not a hypocrite, she needed the money to maintain her shop and here she was, about to lead a couple of who-knows-what adventurers, she just hoped at least one of them had some talents in Spiritism.

OOCAlright, feel free to make your first post by your PC hearing about the job and the meeting place would be near the Sacred Arch Hotprings. Then preparations (supplies, renting horses, etc) and finally, greeting the NPCs. If you have any questions, reply to our coordination PM thread. Let's have fun!

[Letixia Raigner]

The day before... Letixia was sweltering in her full armor today. Her patron, Ser Ranqor Grayne was doing his patrol, and she was accompanying him. She knew it was spring, but she hadn't expected to get so damn hot today. Using the back of her hand, she wiped sweat from her brow. "Problems?" "No Ser" She saw him smiling to himself, laughing on the inside. He'd been in a good mood all day, much to Leti's own delight. They passed several shops, their heads on nearly the exact same swivel, almost to the point of being comical to a casual onlooker. They neared the front gates, when Leti saw Ser Ranqor's gaze choose a different direction than normal. He was looking upon the Bulletin Board. A slight skip in his step, he strode over to it, squire at his side obediently. Stopping in front of it, he glanced at it, a pondering look upon his face. Leti could swear there was a glint in his eyes, a twitch in his smile that wasn't normally there. "See anything unusual? You know we must keep this board well regulated, from pranksters and the like." Leti gave him a sidelong glance of suspicion, then looked upon the board. She read each notice slowly, nothing really sticking out. Scanning along, her eyes passed over a word that drew her gaze back to it. Urgent. She reread the article, and found something in her gut start fluttering. The more she read, the more excited she got and when she finished, she looked up at her patron, only to realize that he'd already been staring at her, a knowing grin on his face. This was his plan all along, but he didn't want to make it his idea. But why? If he wasn't going to say it, she had to make the first move. "Ser, do you think that I might be able to help out with this?" "Well, I would think that a presence of the Order in such an endeavor might increase its success. But you know how busy you are with your training, and it sounds like this might take a long while." Leti thought about this for a while, and she knew what he wanted to hear. This was the reason why he didn't say it first, to make her earn it, rather than being given it. "Well, what if I log twice as many hours that I'm gone, in the training grounds?" He still had an nonplussed look upon his face, and she knew that she needed to up her ante. "Twice as many hours, without interfering with the times I'm currently doing, nor interfering with my studies or duties." "Now that is something I can agree to. You may go, but be sure to prepare properly, and bring honor to the Order. And maybe, if possible, bring me a souvenir, I've not been to the ruins." The pair spent the next few bells responding to the notice and clarifying the smaller details, and eventually reached the conclusion that Leti would meet the group before sunrise near the hot springs. After Leti concluded that day's trainings and studies, she went to her dorm to prepare everything. She cleaned and shined her armor and weapons, oiled the joints, even her sheath, boots, and belt. She packed all of her toiletries, her eating knife, empty waterskin, and her flint and steel into her backpack. She inspected everything, satisfied that all of her armor, weaponry, and other gear was ready. She was to wake up quite early, for she needed to stop by the kitchens to pick up some rations, after her and Ser Ranqor made the necessary arrangements. Following that, she would need to go to the stables to get her a horse saddled up. Finally she could make her way to the group. Early that morning... After a night of fitful sleep, mostly from excitement, Leti rose earlier. She quickly cleaned up, dressed, adorned her armor and gear, and made her way to the mess hall. The cooks there were already hard at work preparing for the squires to wake, and soon her pack was filled with travel rations. Thanking them, she left for the stables, bread in hand as she ate while walking. She was surprised to find a few stable hands already at work. She made her way to the only horse she'd had any practice on, a grey named Igor. Olaf had introduced the pair a while back, and the two had a budding trust. She quickly prepped and saddled him. She added a few saddlebags, in case they needed to transport anything else. She strapped in her bow and quiver, keeping her shield upon her back and her sword from her hip. Her pack she hooked and strapped to the saddle securely, keeping it within reach. Satisfied that everything was in order, she mounted Igor, and led him out of the yard, and toward the city gates. Many chimes later, Leti and Igor were coming upon the meeting spot. There she saw quite the strange group forming. A wolf, a blonde woman, and a ghost, it almost sounded like the beginning of a tavern joke. She approached the group, watching them all carefully. When she was close enough, she took the reins in one hand, and a bit clumsily, slipped off Igor. "Hello, Squire Letixia Raigner, reporting for duty. It is my pleasure to meet you all." She kept it short and simple, for she was not the leader of this group, nor did she know who was. She stood there at ease, not realizing there was a Knight hidden in the group. Keeping a hold on the reins, she stood there quietly, waiting for the others, only speaking when spoken to.

[Altaira Readva]

Spring 18, 514AV | oocYep, definitely going to go make a horse riding place holder for the 19th >.>

Altaira rolled her shoulders and stretched her back, the ever unchanging routine in Stormhold Salves leaving her tight and knotted, the words of her most recent lesson drumming in skull.

'Delaviv. Delaviv. Delaviv. Decoction. Wine. Decoction. Wine. Delaviv.'

She let her mind dwell on the roundness of the herb's leaves, their soft touch, and how tall its stalk stood it against the other hulking giants of the greenhouse. She pressed herself to remember the earth that the Mistress had placed it in, how moist it was kept and the slight aroma it gave. She had been told some many a thing in the last two bells: how long decoction should last, dosage quantities, how much was needed to do what, how many things came easier under the wine's influence, and countless more. Numbers. Numbers. Numbers.

A brush against her shoulder had her jolt and crash back into reality, white noise thinning into distinct conversation and steps, the stale air of the alleyway setting the kelvic at immediate unease. Her walk was fluid and steadfast, having had missed a turn or side street when caught in thought, and gaze flitting constantly as she sought a building or form of striking familiarity.

A small group of people no later caught her eye, and her waver was near unnoticeable as she made a bee line for Bulletin Board and the humans that surrounded it. A quick question reading to spring to her lips, the words slipping before they could form, fragments of the conversation piquing her immediate interest. 'Spirits. Ruins. Springs.'

Thoughts of a warm bed and hastily prepared meal left her in a heartbeat, and she almost pushed passed the small grouping of men as her eyes darted about the scrawling, seeking the paper that detailed the things that they spoke of.

She'd glanced by it several times over by the time that she'd realised, and she stood bolt upright at she poured all thought and effort into deciphering the text, going back over it several times over as she straightened out the nuances in her mind.

'Spirits. Lavender Ruins. Disruptions in trade.'

But what good was her own aid in the matter? Spiritism was a magic that she herself was only barely exposed to, heard of in conversation alone. Careful mediation hit her, an eerie stillness solidifying her form as her gaze set hard on her right hand, the black scythe of her gnosis mark pressing a crushing weight on her chest, and worries of dusting hit her. She couldn't do nothing.

She reeled for the slightest of moments, her feet carrying her off before thought and consideration kicked in, mind a flurry of thought and action as she moved to straighten out the details required. Conformation of date and place. 'Tomorrow. Dawn. The Springs.' Proper leave from work taken, regret riling in her gut as the recent drop in the workers at the store had left it primarily up to the Mistress to carry the bulk of the work. 'Up to a dozen days, no pay.'

The moment her thoughts landed on travel, her stomach lurched. Flying was out of the question, her multitude of weapons and the supplies needed more than enough to warrant the use of a full bag, and that was with several dangers kept on her persons. Her thoughts rushed to horses, and her vast lack of practise with the hulking beings, the short while spent in learning their ways and behaviour leaving her discontent with the thought of dealing with one alone. 'Tomorrow, I will practise further. Work on what Oriah spoke of.'

The thought alone was enough to set her at ease, and it was to the markets on her way home that she went, the final items of supplies required bought before a hasty venture home.

Spring 20, 514AV

Altaira awoke long before dawn, an ache to her body from the hard days learning before, a burning sense of accomplishment surging over her as she bundled together her gear and rations. Toiletries, clothing, her three spider throwing daggers and three simple, her kopis to aid in wading through thick undergrowth, and a punching dagger for good measure.

She'd bought another five days worth of rations, adding them to her previous six as she quickened her pace and made quick for the stables, her backpack swung lazily over her shoulder, breath heaving and face flushed by the time that she'd arrived, pleased enough to find the same horse she'd thus far practised with in form well enough, and setting her affairs in final order. 'Let us hope I am more help than hindrance.'

She managed the saddle well enough on her own, waving off the stable hand who hovered cautiously nearby, parroting the actions she'd seen him do the mere day before, before rechecking her own clothing, having opted for breeches, blouse, and cloak over her usual dress, and securing her backpacks, before leading the hulking beast out and to a place where she could attempt to mount with as few people seeing her struggle as could be managed.

Leaving sooner than needed proved to be an action done well, the kelvic's own novice skill with the horse meaning that the journey was a rather slow one, the light of Syna almost on the verge of breaking the sky bright and full when she came to The Springs, spotting the small group some distance off, and heaving in relief to see that they were yet to leave.

Her sight permitted decent vision perhaps a dozen meters better than that of a human, ample time given for her to whisper quiet assurances to her rented steed, the sight of a her kin in beast form sitting strange with her, though no less strange than ghost she noted hovered about.

'One who has escaped the cycle, is aiding in its re-establishment,' she mused, gaze falling to the other two women, one of which quite obviously being a squire or swordswoman in her own right, the other freckled woman grave and prepared. "Good morn'," she said, her coarse voice cutting through the morning quiet, halting her own horse a little further off than the woman in armour, slipping down to the ground with the kind of ease that usually only came from her kin's natural flow and manner of movement.

"My name is Altaira, I'm not sure what help I can give, but I hope to be of some worth." She gave a slight bow and lead the horse closer to the group, giving the creature a soft stroke as she thanked him for his aid, ensuring to through a short gesture to the mark upon her right palm, ensuing that it was known that she was aiding for good reason, before dissolving into a silence of her own. She was there to aid, beyond what was thus sad, she'd not speak out of turn.

Altaira's Speech | NPC Speech

[Oriah]

Two figures stood by the fringes of the woods, one dark of skin and hair, the other tawny and a few years her patron's junior, both wearing clothes that all but blended in with their earthly surroundings. They stood like this for some time in companionable silence, neither moving nor speaking. Just watching.

Then the smaller but wiser turned to her squire. "You are to go on a mission today, Little Bird."

Oriah felt no surprise, only weariness at the hardships she was confident lay ahead of her. After enduring so many of Mora's eccentricities and mind twisting ideas of tests, she could not help but feel a little...jaded by these sudden announcements. She knew her patron well enough by now to have guessed that all of the preparation they had been working on two days prior were for this very purpose. This mission, as the Chaktawe had stated.

"Very well," the squire conceded. No fuss, no but's. "May I know the details?"

The raven-eyed knight and worshiper of Caiyha was silent for a moment before she decided to answer. "Trouble has been brewing in the Lavender Ruins," came Mora's deep, rich voice, calm as the crystal surface of an isolated pond. "I heard the rumors, then read the pleas for help myself within the city."

Oriah raised an eyebrow at this admission. Up until now, she had always believed her patron essentially lived within the woods because the knight despised crowds and walls. Since when did the desert bred Chaktawe find time to sneak into the city without her squire's knowing? The girl made a mental note to keep a keener eye on Mora's whereabouts. It would be useful to know how her patron managed such voyages without making them known.

"Apparently, a trader named Kale Belmont is worried for his business. He needs for certain disturbances along the North Kabrin road to be investigated and, ultimately, stopped."

The Benshira looked to her mentor, eyes narrowed in curiosity. Her grip around a set of simple reigns tightened as the quiet, even tempered mare beside her bent a blonde maned head to nibble at the budding grass. "What kind of disturbances...?"

Mora turned her pure black eyes to meet her pupil's tenuous gaze. "Ghosts."

Swallowing, Oriah looked away and focused hard on the moving shapes in the distance. "You knew. That is why you are making me go on this mission, isn't it."

The Chaktawe smiled her cryptic little smile, eyes revealing nothing but one mystery hiding beneath another. "No one is making you, Little Bird. You know as well as I that this is important. That it will yield more fruit than you can predict at the moment. Sow the seeds well, and the harvest may surprise you."

Oriah was quiet, listening with a mixture of dread and excitement. Taking this as a good a sign as any, the knight continued. "Not only do you have experience that might very well aid the others in this task, you also have to learn to face your old fears. The unfortunate souls who have chosen not to pass, for one reason or another, are as much of a reality in our world as Syna's course through the sky and our natural need to eat. They will always be here amongst us, and therefore you must learn to deal with them."

Sighing, the squire nodded her head in agreement. "I understand. I will do my best to help however I can, and to overcome the darkness of past memories."

Oriah made a move to begin walking, docile mare in tow, but her patron whipped out a hand lightning fast to stop her at the last tick. "One final request. A tradesman's agendas are a tradesman's agendas. Ours, however, are different. You must remember to--"

"To keep the safety and balance of all life that dwells in this forest as my topmost priority," the squire smiled as she finished Mora's warning for her. "I know, Big Bird. And I will, don't worry."

The Chaktawe's lips twitched at the absurd nickname, knowing full well her squire only used it to prod at her in good natured humor. "Be safe then, Little One. Come back to me with interesting news."

"Always," Oriah saluted in her native tongue, then made her way down to join the others, mare following amiably in tow. They'd taken to learning a bit of the other's mother language, exchanging simple words in Tawna and Shiber when they could. Pretty soon, the squire grinned as she marched down toward the road, they might even be able to speak whole sentences to each other.

For now, though, her concerns lay elsewhere. Primarily, questions concerning what her fellow adventurers would be like. Tall? Short? Fat? Skinny? Selfless? Greedy? Man? Woman? Possibilities rapid fired in her mind as she adjusted the heavy pack on her shoulders and plowed on. She and Mora had spent two whole days in preparation for what Oriah had only assumed at the time to be another long sojourn through the Bronze Woods for educational purposes. All manners of roots, meats, and berries dried for extended travel, armor and boots mended where they needed to be mended--and even fortified in some instances. Suffice to say, it was a harrowing ordeal. One that the Benshira was still aching with weariness from.

As for the mare, Oriah had borrowed her from the stables and affectionately named her Pie. Pie was a good horse and friend. Not picky, fussy, or easily scared. A stout and steadfast companion with a little too much fondness for seeking out snacks but otherwise solid in temperament. That was all the squire cared for, really. Was for a horse who wouldn't buck at the first sign of trouble or piss all over her freshly mended boots. She was still a beginner when it came to riding so speed and strength were not qualities she wished to attempt to exert control over.

The Benshira turned back to give Pie a warm smile before picking up the pace a little. It seemed the others had all arrived, and she was the last to show. When she was finally within distance of the group to make out their faces, Oriah's jaw dropped.

"Altaira!" she greeted with a toothy grin, having picked the Kelvic out instantly. The squire jogged the last few stretches and hugged her friend bodily. "Fancy seeing you here, my friend. I see one dangerous adventure last season was not enough for you." She said this last bit with a playful tone, knowing full well why the young woman had trekked out into the woods with nothing more than a couple daggers and humble squire at her side.

Oriah suddenly remembered there were others present and coughed in embarrassment. There was another young woman--tall and lean, with a green brown eyes and tawny skin. And, near her and her horse was just about the strangest trio the Benshira had ever seen. An enormous, snow white wolf with reddish, gleaming orbs for eyes, A blonde haired, weary looking woman somewhere in her early twenties, and a...

...a ghost.

He must have been handsome in life, Oriah noted, but she could not suppress a shudder at the memories he evoked. The last time she had dealt personally with ghosts was two years ago, and still the dreams came on occasion, leaving her brow beaded with sweat and a hoarse cry trapped in her throat. It made her miss the harlot sometimes, when those memories returned. But this was not the time for nostalgia; there was a mission to be seen to, and people to greet.

"Forgive my late intrusion," the squire nodded respectfully to others. "My name is Oriah Azari, squire to Sera Mora of the green company, fourth regiment, humbly at your service."

A snort of air sounded behind her, followed by a blunt nudge. "Oh," Oriah added, stepping aside a little to reveal the doe-eyed face of her piebald mare. "And this is Pie. Pleased to meet you all!"

[Radiant]

OOCSince Letixia is banned, I'm going to act as if she just passed by.

Ah, from the three morning walkers, for a lack of better term, two ended up approaching the strange trio of dire kelvic, master spiritist, and ghost guardian. The first one to approach was on horseback, a woman with tanned olive skin, slightly wavy dark hair, and unusually gold-amber eyes which gave off the impression of an ethereal exotic beauty, her name was Altaira. The first one to notice her was the Whisper's ethereal companion, Duncan, the ghost had no way of knowing Altaira was one of Dira's marked of course, nor did Whisper or Ama since none of them were marked by the Death Goddess, but Whisper could recognize the intricate black scythe mark on Altaira's hand should the Parrot Kelvic revealed it to her, "Welcome." the ghost said simply while Ama gave a curt nod of her canine features.

As it turned out, the Kelvic revealed her mark through a short gesture, Whisper's eyes stayed rather placid and half-closed, but the turn of her head showed that the mark had interested the master spiritist, Whisper was not as blessed as her, she was never marked by Dira before, she self-trained her own ghost-hunting skills, but Eiyons had a special place in her heart, she hoped of one day attaining it. "Hail, Death's daughter." Whisper simply said, prompting a raised eyebrow from Duncan, but the ghost understood what his companion meant after a short gesture. Whisper might look unassuming and cold, but it couldn't be further from the truth, she was just a quiet woman who preferred actions more than words, and her fascination for the ethereal dead had distanced her from the living.

The second to arrive was also a female, a pretty looking one who possessed a bright smile that could melt all but the coldest of hearts. She also had olive kin, hair in the color of desert sand, and oasis-blue eyes. Whisper had the feeling that this two were sisters or at least related by blood. They seemed to know each other though, so the spiritist supposed they came from the same region or hometown. She wouldn't be surprised if they were indeed, sisters. The two of them looked calm enough in the presence of a giant wolf and an ethereal man, so Whisper gave a small smirk - in her head - now this was the kind of people she looked forward to partner, they wouldn't shudder at the first sign of spirits. "Hail, Squire Oriah." The duo of spiritist and ghost greeted simultaneously. So this one was a squire to Sera Mora, the mysterious Chaktawe Knight, Whisper slightly tilted her head as she finished packing her equipments, "I know your patron." She didn't give further comments, but the slight smile on her face indicated that Oriah was blessed to be under the patronage of Sera Mora.

The trio then stood up, with Whisper taking the lead, "I am Whisper Addison, spiritist," She then gestured to her ghostly companion, "This is Duncan Favrie, my partner and guardian," Duncan gave a firm nod, then finally, Oriah gestured to Ama, "This is Ama, caretaker of the Bronze Woods, she and Sera Mora should know each other well." Ama then gave a polite 'woof' from her canine jaws. The spiritist then gestured for both Altaira and Oriah to gather, her face turning serious, "We are going to the Lavender Ruins, an infamous ruined castle filled with ghosts and spiritits... usually," She turned her head at Altaira, "Your sibling takes care of any incursions," By 'sibling', she meant fellow Eiyon of course, "However, something is amiss, hostile ghosts and spirits are surging out from the ruins, disrupting trade and risking the safety of the Road. We must take care of this before it's too late." The Knightly Order was always busy, but the 'incursion' didn't seem dire enough for them at the moment, but Whisper assumed it would only get worse. "Any questions?" Whisper would answer any inquiries made by the duo before walking up to Ama then rode her, "Let us be off, I'm in your care, Ama." The pale blond woman rubbed her hand on Ama's neck.

Without further ado, the group of five, seven including Altaira and Oriah's horses, departed into the North Kabrin Road, to the Cobalt Mountains. A journey of about four to five days would await them.

.........

.....

...

Cobalt Mountains, 4 days later...

The Cobalt Mountains, a beautiful wilderness filled with equal beauty and danger, amongst the lush trees and wildlife, were ruins of the Valterrian littered here and there, most of them were just that, ruins, but some... held something - or someone - within them, whether hostile or benevolent. As they rode into the mountains, Whisper would gesture for the group to stop by raising her right hand, "We... are close..." True enough, both her and Duncan could feel they were being watched by ethereal presence, Altaira would feel her gnosis prickling at her being. A flash of white mist crossed the road before them in the shape of a translucent deer, then... another and another, three ghostly deers in total passed before them. Then it all went silent once more...

"Take care," Whisper then gave both Altaira and Oriah a circular lasso rope adorned by gleaming beads, "Ghostbeads, when needed, deploy it on the ground, put yourself in the inner circle, ghosts can't enter it." Just to be on the safe side, Whisper checked her spring bracers, filled with master-level souldarts, "Let's proceed..." Then they walked forward, once more.

However, after only five chimes, a pair of twin ghosts in the shape of two translucent little girls spawned directly behind Altaira and Oriah, hugging them tight with their materialized body, the both of them would feel as if their body were touched by ice, but not harmful in anyway. The ghostly girls giggled with high-pitched echoing voice, "Hey," They spoke at the same time, "Let's play~" Whisper, Ama, and Duncan turned around, but not one of them made a move... yet, the thing with ghosts, one couldn't know if these were ghosts of former children or... something malicious in the shape of children.

[Altaira Readva]

A familiar voice cut through the silence, the sounds of hoof and movement soon after, Altaira too busy in awkward survey of the trio before her, and perhaps just slightly evergreen with the pride of being recognised as a daughter of death, to notice her dear friend's first approach. When the hug came, it was barely a surprise, the quirk to the encroaching Benshira's face and lips practically screaming her intentions, the holding of her body and arms even more so. “Oriah-good to see the knights are yet to quell your spirit,” The kelvic hummed, low and sweet, her lips curving upwards as she gave a tight squeeze on her own, before the world began to shift and move back to the wright that bore down prior as Oriah gave her own introductions, almost snorting when Pie got her own introduction.

‘Ama. Duncan. Whisper. Ama. Duncan. Whisper.’

The names rung hollow in the kelvic’s mind, gaze flitting over the three time and time again as she sort to associate name and face and voice, the last of the three the only of which that could do at all with the later. The woman’s voice suited her name, she thought. No excess words or unneeded phrases, soft and stern and to the point, much like the hushed words passed between shelves and corridors.

Whisper gave a short string of information, the name and place and most basic of points brought up, most of which were those that were already well enough known to her, though she could scarcely help the short wonder as words of her brother were said – usually. Her jaw set tight, and her gaze roamed the area, listening as the world began to timer with the early morning life and calls and trills, mind a whirl of questions and queries. ‘How many marks, how old, what race? Can he merely not handle such a number, or has something greater occurred?’

As the final questions of the journey were raised, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, her mouth drying as she sought to form thoughts to words. ‘No, no. No questions needed.’

She threw a glance instead to the squire, gaze washing over the woman’s form as she took note of the way that that the Benshira held her jaw, and the tightness of her overall form – though the later could have very well been little more than uniform worn. She felt her own look to be too harsh, and absently let a hand go out to nuzzle her horse of choice, an encouraging smile creeping onto to her features as she attempted to make Oriah as comfortable as she.

Whether or not there were questions to come on her part, they would be greeted with a short look of thought and a gesture to leave, the kelvic going over what was kept on her person another two times over before mounting once more. The journey to come would be far different than anything else she’d ever had the pleasure – or displeasure – of embarking on.

The ride had been long and hard, Altaira’s base knowledge of riding more than enough to have her horse grumble and misunderstand a large variety of her gestures, the kelvic trying her best in her usual clicks and whistles to coax the beast to do her bidding, though it seldom seemed to work.

“Shyke,” the word rolled off her tongue with a sigh and a bitter breath, Altaira already on foot by then for a quarter bell, the flurry of chirps and birds whirling above setting her at strange ease, the feeling slipping as her gnosis prickled and writhed, the spiritualist no later making a point of how close the group was drawing to the Lavender Ruins.

As the ethereal deer pranced and passed, a short bout of awe hit her. Her eyes raked over the shimmering edges of the ghosts, the smallest quirk to her lips displaying her pleasure in their appearance something shocking. No sooner had the look formed did it slip away, a glance towards Oriah and that strange look to the Benshira dampening the kelvic’s thrill, the gravity of the situation once more grounding her.

As the circular ring was given, Altaira’s expression faltered and set, only the shortest of moments of recollection required before she linked thoughts and words of people prior. ‘Ghostbeads, understood.’ The time that passed was so short the kelvic couldn’t tell it, a shudder splitting her spine before she heard the chime of laughter and a crushing hug from behind.

“Play?” The word came with a heavy breath, the gooseflesh rippling her skin scarce enough to shake the warmth from her tone, nor affect the sweet grin that tugged at the corners of her lips. They were such a fair, small pair. Far smaller than Millicent, yet high enough to tower over Kimi. “The games I play are no fun,” she mused, sights set on the girl that ringed Oriah, half lost in the shimmer and ethereal edges of her form. “Games of words and blades,” the Eiyon shot a look at the spiritualist, pressing her lips as she tried to gauge the best line of action for the situation. Ghosts were not so stable of mind, not without discipline or grounding, she’d found, the last thing she wished to do was infuriate a harmless or prove gullible to a malicious.

“Shall we play a game of guessing, quick one?” She kept her words as light as she could manage, a tightness in her chest and a tingling in her right palm leaving her sharp of mind and firm in choice, in constant care and caution of the whirling world around her. ‘Do not judge by first appearances. Do not place trust in a fickle being. Guide.’

Altaira's Speech | NPC Speech | oocSorry for the wait, and if I have misinterpreted anything!

[Oriah]

A moment of surprise flitted across her features at the mention of her patron. It took some getting used to, meeting those few who knew of the Chaktawe as more than just the Desert Witch or an eccentric recluse. Oriah had to admit, it lent her encouragement to know others thought so highly of Big Bird. Smirking at the thought of the ludicrous nickname, she smiled back to the woman who had introduced herself as Whisper Addison.

So, this was what a right and proper spiritist looked like. Using her abilities to help others and aid in the handling of ghosts. Such thoughts sent her memories reeling to the past. What was the harlot up to these days, she wondered? Did he make more encounters with spirits, or just resume with his usual...interests...? Knowing him, it was entirely plausible for him to do both.

And speaking of spirits, Oriah found her attention honing in on Whisper's partner, Duncan. It had been a long, long time since she'd last seen a ghost up close and personal, and even then the squire had never encountered one during the day. Granted, Syna had long since given way to Leth when she and Matthew had found Cordelia and her father. The environment--and company--was much warmer and brighter now. And, with so many allies in sight, she felt far from alarmed.

Even so, the sight unsettled her. Just a little, the phantom tinges of past experiences coloring her mood despite their circumstances.

Last but not least, there was Ama. Caretaker of the Bronze Woods. Oriah had heard her fair share of stories and words of advice regarding the legendary guardian. While Sera Mora tended mostly to plant related affairs and the occasional human ones, Ama watched over all else. The squire had been taught from the very beginning to respect the giant wolf, long before they had ever met. And, now, she was finding herself rather glad for such lessons.

Once the introductions were finished, Whisper initiated the beginning of their journey. Oriah felt a surge of excitement course through her, though not without hints of fear and worry as well. Even with the abundance of expertise and aid on their side, the mission ahead still left her with an uneasy feeling.

She could only hope it wasn't a premonition of any kind.

---4 days later----

If she had felt nostalgic before, it was nothing compared to what hit her now. Oriah reeled with a fresh wave of memory at the sight of two girls. They reminded her so much of Cordelia it took every inch of her will not to bolt right then and there. But, even if it had been Cordelia, she would have forced herself to stay just the same. The Benshira was a squire now of the Order; she would die first before turning her back on her comrades and running like a coward.

Oriah tightened her grip on the ghost beads Whisper had given them. If things became dangerous, she wanted to at least be able to attempt to use them. The gleam of a wicked blade held in Cordelia's ethereal hand was still vivid enough in her mind to warrant caution from the pair of ghostly girls.

Fortunately, Pie was more stalwart than her rider. The mare seemed unperturbed by the undead. Either she didn't notice them or found them to be less interesting than whatever it was she was trying to nibble on.

"We can try to guess things about each other," the former dancer chimed in, taking her cues from Altaira. She kept her tone light and playful, as she usually did with children, though her questions had all the direction of an ulterior agenda. "Maybe...things we like, or where we come from. How about that?"

[Radiant]

"Hmmm?" The little ghostly girls gave both women, Kelvic and Human, a questioned look befitting for a curious child, only their translucent and shimmering edges coated their apparent innocence with a sense of haunting. As if their mind linked, both of the girls spoke at the same time, even if they responded to Altaira first, "Why is it not fun?" The ghost hugging Altaira then tilted her head slightly, seemingly not understanding what the woman meant by 'Games of words and blades', then they giggled, "Oh! Is it the part where you kill people?" Their eyes shifted to the weapons carried by the party "We agree! That's not fun!"

When both women suggested about the 'guessing' game, both girls vanished from their spot and appeared in front of Altaira and Oriah's horses in an instant latter, holding each other's hands, their long translucent hair swaying in its own 'wind', "We love guessing games! Alright, you can go first!" When Oriah asked about their origins, both girls nodded, "We live in a big purple castle! Near here! Ehehe~" They giggled then circled each other, "We play a lot! Papa often takes care of us! Papa told us to 'move on' though, but we still want to play!" The twin ghostly girls then suddenly became saddened, they both hung their head, "But... a bad man came to our home, that bad man drove Papa and friends out!" Like true fickle children, they immediately became cheerful again in an instant, "But now we can play with you! Alright! Our turn then!" The ghosts then looked at all of them with bright curious eyes, "What are you all doing here if you don't want to play? Visit Papa? We can take you to Papa!"

Whisper and Duncan were ready for any ugly confrontations anytime, but by experience, speaking to a non-hostile ghost and gaining information from them was preferable than dusting them. Whisper only attacked in self-defense, not all ghosts were evil after all. The master spiritist then looked at Altaira and Oriah, best let them to handle this situation, these two ghosts seemed infatuated with them. Who was this 'Papa' anyway?

[Altaira Readva]

...

Oriah's voice was a welcome relief, more so when the words she spoke were those that resounded the kelvic's idea and the twist and turn that she wished to take the flow of conversation. Away from themselves and towards the girls - sweet questions that would not bother one who had no secrets held, yet would likely shake and annoy any with malcontent.

The girl's laugh and play thus far had proved them no less sweet than Kimi, with giggles and hugs and same childish innocence seen on any child. A tang hit the Eiyon's mouth the moment she considered their death, the two girls - should their ghostly form have held true to that in which they died in - hinting a passing that came too soon. Before the kelvic could too long dwell upon it, Oriah's words prompted the mention of something that snagged and demanded her utmost attention.

"Lavender Ruins, no?" the words rolled of her tongue with a sigh and a light chuckle, the ache to her legs and her sides easing some as she heard that from another source that they were close indeed, though the words that accompanied the confirmation sent a jar of warning down her spine. 'Father. Father. The brother of mine or a fellow ghost? Would a ghost try and convince another to depart?'

Golden eyes slid a glare in the direction of the so called 'Duncan,' a thorough look up and down the ghost as Altaira mediated on the thought, memories of Shiyami striking her in full force. Her last ghostly father encounter was something far different, it was a man who’d taken a girl ghost under his wing and chosen to care for her, from the way the ghost spoke, Altaira figured that he had no intention of moving on, some philosophy of living a life taken from him in death. He was not the kind to promote the acceptance of Dira.

Words of the shimmering twins then slipped cold, and the gnosis on the kelvics right palm writhing as what was spoken cut to her bone: a bad man came, and drove them out.

She felt her fists clench and jaw lock, thoughts a whirl and a mind a haze, gaze flitting to her companions for aid in the decisions to come. "We’re here to help a friend," her voice held a motherly charm and a dear tone, her expression soft as she danced around the sensitive topic, shooting a look to her dear Benshiran friend as she wavered on the next course of action.

...

Altaira's Speech | NPC Speech | oocSorry for the wait, again -_-

[Oriah]

The tiny hairs on her neck stood on end, though she kept her expression unchanged. Before their mismatched ensemble pranced and danced the two ghostly little girls. Utterly carefree, with no inclination it seemed to distrust strangers or lament their circumstances. Perhaps they weren't aware of the latter. Perhaps they were. Either way, it didn't change the uneasiness that came with their ethereal answers. Big purple castle...love to play...bad man...

...Papa.

It seemed that her past had come back to haunt not in singles, but pairs. How the world never ceased its confounding irony.

At Altaira's responding answer, some of the squire's mind jogged back into action once more. Now was not the time to feel nostalgic or philosophic. The two childlike ghosts had given them as good a lead as any and they seemed to have little choice but to follow. Not to mention the others--Whisper, Duncan, and Ama--made no move to intervene, so it likely meant the ghosts posed no immediate harm.

True, their vanishing and unvanishing act tested her composure to its limits. It took every bit of her will not to flinch and jump five feet back at their unexpected ability. The Benshira was far less superstitious than her kin back in the Eyktol, and even still she found herself on edge whenever she was around beings or forces of such natures. Ghosts, magic, that maddening ability of her patron to sense even the smallest of her movents--all fell into the same category of "stay the Hai away from." But so far the girls appeared to harbor no ill will for the newcomers. Maybe they would even help them during this peculiar mission. Who knew at this point?

All the same, though, Oriah kept her hands firmly gripped the soul beads in one of her pockets. One never knew when things would take a turn for the disastrous.

"Yes, a friend," the Benshira chimed in, meeting Altaira's cautious gaze with a somewhat worried one of her own. She kept the rest of her expression serene, however, and smiled her warmest smile at the two ghostly children. "We would love to meet your Papa. He seems like a nice man. Maybe we can all play together when we see him?"

And figure out what the deal is with the one who drove you out, too, Oriah thought to herself. It was a tricky business, trying to keep a facade of calm going while darker ideas flitted through her mind. She wasn't at all sure of how much ghosts could feel or sense from their living counterparts.

Best not take a chance and keep smiling.