[Evalin] A Nuit and a Drykas walk into a library...
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Built into the cliffs overlooking the Suvan Sea, Riverfall resides on the edge of grasslands of Cyphrus where the Bluevein River plunges off the plain and cascades down to the inland sea below. Home of the Akalak, Riverfall is a self-supporting city populated by devoted warriors. [Riverfall Codex]
Aoren sat quietly within the halls of Valkalah library perusing what had to be one of mortal’s greatest treasures. A book. The book in question was nothing more than a primer discussing the very basics of the Akalak language, Tukant as he’d come to learn. Aoren had never been much of a linguist. He knew only two different languages to date and those were Common and Pavi. The only reason he’d ever learned Pavi was because it was important to his heritage. He was now in a city far from Syliras where the dominant population spoke a language he was unfamiliar with. To that end, Aoren sought to bridge the gap that might exist with such a problem.
He was, however, making very little headway. The book in front of him contained no great detail but it did at least translate the words and phrases into elegantly scripted common. If nothing else he would be able to point at things and try to make sense of the word according to its translation. He looked up from the book staring at the polished surface of the table he sat at. He looked back down at the book furrowing his brow as he struggled to make sense of the word written on the page in front of him.
“L..ghr…L..” Aoren gave an exasperated sigh. He ran a hand over his face adjusting his sitting position to be more comfortable. If he was going to beat himself up as he trudged onward wracking his brain trying to comprehend a foreign language, he would at least do it comfortably.
“Maybe if I wrote it?” Leaning down he ran a hand over the worn material of his pack. He would need to replace it soon. Still, he tended to carry it wherever he went and one thing he made a point of having on hand was parchment and writing utensils. At least while he was within a city. It was a habit formed while attending the University almost second nature to him at this point. He opened his pack withdrawing the materials. He set the inkwell at the top right hand corner of the parchment to prevent it from rolling. He set the book on the top left.
He stared at the page.
Aoren tapped the feather of his quill against the surface of the parchment. He had come to the Valkalah library intent on learning a little bit about the language of the Akalak. That was not going well. He had neither the motivation nor focus necessary at that moment to devote to unraveling the mysteries of words he couldn’t wrap his head around. His leg bounced impatiently. His eyes repeatedly scanned the page without truly reading what was scrawled across its surface. He emit another sigh finally giving up what felt like a few hours of mindless research. He would have to grasp for the mysteries of Tukant another day. Instead he decided that if he was going to be seated in a library with writing utensils in hand, he may as well put them to good use. It was the excuse he gave himself to make up for wasted time.
Aoren dipped the quill into the inkwell touching the pen to the surface of the parchment. He already knew the shape. He had drawn it a hundred times. Without much difficulty Aoren drew the outline of the Focus he used. His handle on the fundamentals of Glyphing were relatively sound. He had been meaning to put such a grasp to good use. His drawing wasn’t quick but it was certainly done with the hand of one more confident in his abilities than a beginner. It was neither the Focus nor the Barrier that followed that was the center of Aoren’s attention at that time. He’d become familiar enough with drawing both components of a Glyph that they offered no obstacle. During this impromptu practice session his goal was to refine the parameters of his Triggers. His comprehension of Glyphing had grown to a point where he was comfortable with such a course of action.
Aoren leaned back in his chair thinking to himself. He brushed the feathery tip of the quill against his chin as he pondered how to approach this project. More importantly what would he apply it to? It served no purpose to just write a Trigger in the hopes that it would function properly. It would need to be applied to be tested for efficacy. The Drykas man became a little absorbed in his thinking, oblivious to his surroundings as he decided on his next course of action.
She wasn't sure why she was here. It was a moment where the need to go and to move became so great that her legs simply carried her from the safety and comfort of her little room in the inn out into the streets of Riverfall. She did not pay attention where she was going, or who she met or saw or passed. Rather she did not see them, for all the while she kept her eyes locked downward, staring intently at the ground as if there were some great and noble secret that lay hidden beneath the souls of her bare feet. Why was she going to where her feet carried her? For what purpose? Evalin did not try to think, merely content to ride the length of this venture to the end.
Then there were books. Books and tables and people, quietly reading or talking. It was a land of knowledge where no one was interested in one another, but rather all focused on what could be learned in the space of time lent to the pursuit of study. Without meaning to Evalin smiled as she ducked down a row of shelves, pressing herself close to one side to avoid disturbing any of the other guests here. It was then that she noticed something, a man not far away gazing intently at the table at which he sat. The intensity of his eyes gave voice to the extreme focus that was applied to that which he was studying, and so for the moment Evalin could not bring herself to disturb him. But still...
Small, childish hands grasped the edge of the shelf as the Witch cloaked in her child body looked around the corner of the shelf she used for cover. She tried not to make too much noise as she watched him, biting her lip as she inched closer and closer to the edge of the shelf. So focused was this man he did not seem to notice, and as the ticks went by Evalin grew all the more curious. What was it that caught his attention so? What was of such interest to him? Thus she slowly inched forward, the hem of her simple green dress flowing just above her ankles as she tip toed closer, and closer. Carefully touching the icy blue gem that hung at her neck Evalin reached one hand up to grip the edge of the table, standing on her tip toes so that her chin was just able to make it over the edge and looked up at Aoren, "What are you working on?"
Wretched Aura: As a Wretched One Evalin possesses an unnatural aura about her that causes unease in those who get too close. It can come as a prickle of the hair on the back of the neck, a sense of 'wrongness' about her. How people experience it is different depending on their personality and how they handle the unnatural and unknown. Animals tend to become more agitated, more easily sensing how wrong Evalin is and often avoiding contact with her.
Aoren was rocking back and forth on the chair, the legs propped up at an angle. When a small female voice interrupted his thoughts he was brought back to reality. His eyes came to rest upon a little girl peeping over the edge of the table. He was about to respond when his foot slipped. Several things happened at once then. Aoren threw his arms out doing a frantic windmill. The chair tilted backward as he lost his footing.
“Oh shy—“ Aoren toppled over onto the floor with a thud. The quill went flying from his hand. One of his legs knocked against the table smarting something awful. When the table was nudged the parchment he’d drawn the glyph upon was tossed into the air.The Drykas bumped his head on the hard floor. Aoren lay there for a moment sprawled out on the floor before he collected his wits. He let out a sigh more from embarrassment than from pain. He sat up untangling himself from the chair. As he did the parchment drifted down to the floor at Evalin’s feet.
Rising to his feet, Aoren righted the chair thankful that it hadn’t been broken. He supposed Akalak furniture was made more sturdy to support their weight. He looked around the floor for a moment searching for his quill. The feather was a little bent but that was forgivable. He could still use it. A slight flush touched his cheeks before he met the eyes of the little girl. He cleared his throat.
“I was merely drawing.” It wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either. Those not gifted in magic didn’t need to know that the symbols Aoren had sketched upon the surface of the parchment were magical in nature. On that note, Aoren realized the parchment did not rest upon the table. He glanced around before his eyes came to rest on the sheet at the little girl’s feet. He resumed his seat gesturing to the rudimentary scroll.
“May I have that please?” Aoren took the time to get a better look at the girl in front of him. She was pale, as if she’d not spent a single day in the light of the sun. Her hair was long and black. As he studied her, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end. He suppressed the urge to shiver before reaching up to rub at the back of his head. The opalescent sigil woven upon the right side of his face nudged him gently to which he complied. The hand that rest upon the back of his head found the spot where he’d bumped it against the floor. It was a minor thing tended to easily enough. The ache was soothed. The dull sting abated. He dropped his hand to his lap.
“Are you...did you need something?” Everything Aoren knew about Riverfall thus far told him that children were cherished in the city. He couldn’t imagine why a young girl would be left unattended.
The sudden fall startled Evalin, but just as quick as it came it evaporated to amusement that brought a smile to her lips and a very soft giggle to her lips. She had not meant to scare the poor child, but sometimes such things were unavoidable. Thus she inched closer around the table, one hand still grasping the edge as she did to look down at the man and get a good look at him for the first time.
Those red eyes then at last fell upon the mark on Aoren's face, and they widened in surprise. Was he like Caelum? Did he know him? Such were great leaps in logic of course, and just as quickly as they formed they were dismissed for sharing a similar mark did not necessarily mean they were in contact with one another. This was when the flutter of paper caught her attention and Evalin glanced down just in time to see the drawing flutter just before her bare feet.
Crouching down Evalin ran a finger over the rim of the barrier, tilting her head curiously as she examined the 'drawing'. "This is..." she hesitated, and then picked up the drawing, searching it more closely before handing it back to Aoren with a smile, "This is a pretty drawing. What does it mea?"
He is a glypher... Evalin mused within her mind, one hand slowly moving to touch the icy gem around her neck as she stood up, What a curious one, to draw something like this in a public place where any might see.
Perhaps he simply is simply ignorant. Tsenrika replied.
Doubt I this very much. If he would know the art of glyphing, and bears a mark similar to Caelum... what other secrets might he hide? The Immortal's interest was growing with this man, but for now it did her no good to reveal too much of herself. So, instead, Evalin decided to play one of her favorite games.
"I did not mean to disturb you, I was just curious what you were doing staring so hard at the table." Evalin pointed at the paper as she said this, nodding at it and the man himself, "The library is for reading, so why are you drawing weird things like that?"
Wretched Aura: As a Wretched One Evalin possesses an unnatural aura about her that causes unease in those who get too close. It can come as a prickle of the hair on the back of the neck, a sense of 'wrongness' about her. How people experience it is different depending on their personality and how they handle the unnatural and unknown. Animals tend to become more agitated, more easily sensing how wrong Evalin is and often avoiding contact with her.
Time seemed to draw to a standstill as the girl picked up the parchment upon which Aoren had drawn the Glyph. It was not that he had a fear of being discovered. Glyphing, of all the magic that he knew of, was perhaps one of the least harmful when not given direct purpose to cause harm in some way. It was he did not want her to tamper with the work that he’d put into the Glyph thus far. In that moment he noticed several things about the girl in front of him. Her skin was pale. It was far too pale. Her eyes were what drew his attention the most however. Red. The scarlet of freshly spilled blood. Curious, Aoren drew upon the powers of Auristics. He pulled his djed from its resting place breathing life into the magic at his command. He covered his eyes with the djed willing them to see that which hung about the body of all things. It was slow at first.
“Art has many interpretations. It possesses the meaning that you give it. I have yet to give meaning to this particular piece.” He arched an eyebrow as he accepted the parchment from the girl. The mist around her finally came into focus. The moment it did, Aoren felt every hair on his body stand practically on end. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to jerk away in shock. His focus was entirely upon the girl’s aura and that aura was a heavy, dark thing. The icy chill of death and hate rippled across his consciousness. It slammed into him with a bitter cold that clawed its way into his skin.
It was then that the gnosis gracing the back of his right hand awoke. It were as if Avalis moved to intervene and save her faithful from the overwhelming horror that dripped from the girl’s aura. Aoren was drawn immediately into the Chavi. His hold upon his djed and the powers of Auristics was severed. His gaze peered not at the girl but through her, beyond her down the corridors of time to a place long, long ago. Outwardly his eyes glazed and became distant.
Secret :
Aoren gasped almost as if he were coming up for air. He shivered but it was not a physical shiver. No, he was outside of his body now. He was in a place where only he and those with the gift to walk there could tread. All around him stood pillars of light in a world where time was irrelevant. To him, the mundane world had halted. His ears were soothed by the music of the place between all places, he could feel the call of the Divine and his soul ached to answer that call.
He turned to follow the music but stopped. To his right rose the tendrils of his own Chavi. He knew the tapestry of his life but rarely did he walk it. The corridors of what lay in his past were painful. He was only now reaching a point where he could withstand the thought of divining his own origins.
To his left however, there hung a portrait of a different life. It spun upwards and on for forever from the body of the girl who had filled his with an unnamable dread. Dare he touch a hand to the web of her life? Did he truly want to know why he’d nearly been overwhelmed by the sheer wall of bitterness, hate, and darkness that screamed forth from the girl’s aura?
Had Avalis not just saved him? Had her gift not sent him to a place much quieter, much more peaceful? Was he not now surrounded by the beauty of the Chavena? The Goddess had obviously given him this opportunity. He would be an ingrate if he did not take it. With a deep breath, Aoren stepped forward and began the journey of walking through this bitter girl’s life.
His steps were not his own as it seemed the Gift of Avalis had an intent for him on this journey. The painting of this chilling girl’s life was marred by a music of hardship and sadness. It was a sorrow Aoren could not place but he felt it all the same. Were he not walking the strands of her Chavi, he would have wept at the pain he felt. His steps came to a stop as through the grand cathedral of the girl’s chavi, he bore witness to a chain of events.
The shadow of a predator. The agonized lament of a dying woman. An exchange of words and power.
The birth of an Immortal.
As the vision faded, Aoren turned away from it. Though he was hesitant to face the truth of what he knew the vision meant, he had to return. The music of the Chavena was not for him to dance to that day. As his drifted back through the corridors of the Past the Chavi whispered to him. They whispered a name.
Evangeline.
Aoren blinked. The whole of his vision and the event that brought it on taking no more than perhaps a few short intakes of breath. His mouth stood slightly open. A wetness trailed down one of his cheeks. The Seer straightened as he regained himself. He reached up with his left hand touching it to his cheek. When he drew his fingers back they were wet with the drop of a single tear. Aoren sat back in his chair regarding this girl, who was in truth a woman, with a blank expression. He glanced at the Glyph in his hands before setting the parchment on the table. It took a moment as he contemplated on the knowledge he’d gained before he answered the question posed to him.
“I could ask a similar question of you. What brings one such as yourself to the library if you did not come to read?” The phrasing of Aoren’s question perhaps hinted that he knew now there was more to Evalin than met the eye.
The sudden distance in his eyes as he took the parchment fro her was the first thing Evalin noticed. His eyes looked at her, but through her as if she were not really there. Was it an episode of some kind? Was he ill?
Withdrawing her hand Evalin folded her own at her waist, the corner's of her mouth tilting downward somewhat as her brow furrowed in confusion, growing ever more as within the span of a few breaths a single tear welled up in the corner of one eye and rolled down this person's cheek.
Stricken he is with an illness of the mind. Tsenrika agreed, He is a mage yet, most likely fallen victim to the whispers or other magical abnormalities.
Perhaps so... Evalin followed Aoren's hand as he returned his precious drawing to the table, He all but admitted his magical heritage. A glyph that has yet to be given a purpose or task. Wonder I how far gone he really is.
Tapping one foot Evalin flicked her gaze back to Aoren's, biting her lower lip as she regarded him with cautious curiosity. A few ticks after the question would ask the Immortal would plaster a smile on her small face, trying too hard perhaps and making it too wide to show more teeth than is necessary, "You ask the strangest things. If you are not reading in a library the answer is quite obvious. You are searching for something." She pointed at the parchment once more, "Or you are writing or drawing or sleeping. Really I suppose you can do just about anything in a library you wish, as long as you keep your voice down and do not disturb the other people."
Stepping a little closer the Nuit clasped her hands behind her back, leaning forward slightly to gaze intently upward at Aoren, "What is your name, and what exactly are you searching for?"
Wretched Aura: As a Wretched One Evalin possesses an unnatural aura about her that causes unease in those who get too close. It can come as a prickle of the hair on the back of the neck, a sense of 'wrongness' about her. How people experience it is different depending on their personality and how they handle the unnatural and unknown. Animals tend to become more agitated, more easily sensing how wrong Evalin is and often avoiding contact with her.
“Strange people breed strange questions.” He cast the Immortal a look. Aoren quietly shifted the parchment upon which rested the Glyph. He took up his utensils and began tending to the sigil once more. The Barrier resting around the Focus was only partially complete. He diligently began the work of completing it jotting down the runes necessary to make a complete Glyph.
“You may call me Aoren.” He dipped his pen into the ink his attention divided between the task in front of him and the girl who had leaned closer. He completed another rune then moved on to the next in the series.
“No need to introduce yourself. I know who you are, at least in part. As for what I am searching for?” The Seer paused looking up from the Glyph to study this girl, this Evangeline intently. “I suppose I’m searching for an explanation behind people’s pursuit of power. For instance, I search for the perfect meaning to give my drawing here. A meaning that would give it purpose when others look at it. I search for a means of making what I see in here…” He touched his forehead then gestured vaguely to the world around them.
“A reality out here.” Aoren completed the Barrier resting around the Focus. He dipped his pen into the inkwell moving to design the trigger for this particular Glyph. He stopped as he considered exactly what he wanted to contain within this particular scroll. He could seal away a product of his reimancy but he was not about to conjure such manifestations with this enigmatic woman nearby. In any case, he proceeded to outline the purpose of the Trigger.
“I am an explorer of sorts. You could say I search for many things. I would ask what you are searching for but that’s a small question in the grander scheme of things.” The Drykas set down his quill pen. He leaned back in his chair folding his hands in his lap directing the whole of his attention to the red eyed girl in front of him. He was intrigued by her but the dark weight of what he’d seen of her also disturbed him. But if what disturbed Aoren had been enough to dissuade him from pursuing the mysteries that had presented themselves in his life, Aoren would never have left Syliras.
“The more appropriate question is, what do you intend to do with it once you get it?” He considered the vision that had saved him from being left a sobbing mess. There had been several facets to it. Some of them he didn’t quite understand but the dark tone of it was all too clear. One thing had remained clear though, this was not a person to trifle with. The Seer had met a few Undead in his time. None of them had been all that pleasant to deal with. Nevertheless he’d always walked away from the interaction with greater insight than he’d had before. Those who took up the mantle of the Dead Walkers, the Nuits as he knew them, tended to be old. Very old. There was wisdom in appreciating that fact. Still, Aoren was curious.
His mind is gone. The Familiar restated, and as Aoren spoke the Immortal could not help herself. She began to think so as well... The sudden turn of his words, the subject matter, the broad statements. Was this how a man would talk to someone they just met, a child figure no less?
She would wait until he finished before pulling out the chair closest to the man, using it like one would a step so that she could come to sit on the table. Scooting her little form further onto the table Evalin would cross her legs under her, inching around to face Aoren across the table with the glyph drawing separating them. When he leaned back in his chair Evalin would turn the drawing so that it was right side up for her, examining the new drawings that he had added but, as he had said, she could not determine their intent because he had yet to assign intent to them.
"You are quite mad aren't you." She whispered with a smile up at Aoren before looking back down at the paper, "I am simply in the library searching for knowledge just like anyone else. I do not know why you think I want power at all."
Tapping a finger on the edge of the parchment she looked back at Aoren, "You think you know who I am? Then please tell me. The insane have the most unique thoughts and logic."
Wretched Aura: As a Wretched One Evalin possesses an unnatural aura about her that causes unease in those who get too close. It can come as a prickle of the hair on the back of the neck, a sense of 'wrongness' about her. How people experience it is different depending on their personality and how they handle the unnatural and unknown. Animals tend to become more agitated, more easily sensing how wrong Evalin is and often avoiding contact with her.
“I think we’re all a little mad sometimes.” Aoren gave the strange one a half-smile. He supposed that what he was saying could easily be perceived as the ramblings of a madman. Nevertheless he believed there was some truth to them. He gathered that might have been the most dangerous of beliefs to have, to believe that there was truth in madness when one knew they sounded so. He reflected on what had been revealed to him in the brief glimpse of this woman’s past. It had not been a large number of things. Fragments of an exchange of words and power between herself and an unknown figure. A figure who was and wasn’t a man. The death of a woman who had already been dying. The birth of an Immortal who lived without living.
“You are she who was born to die and died that she might live again. You are she who made a bargain with darkness without realizing the depths of the well you’d plunged into.” Aoren regarded the woman carefully. There was a sadness to his gaze as he recalled the glimpse of her that he’d been given.
“You are Evangeline.” The Seer was partially tempted to step into the corridors of the Chavi that he might learn more of this enigmatic figure before him. There was more to her story than the small piece of it that he’d seen. He could feel it written in the whole of her Chavi. There had been suffering written in the depths of her soul. There had also been great mystery and wonder. The Chavi that he’d beheld had been vast in comparison to others that he’d seen.
“I would like to point out that I never said that you were in search of power. Merely, I was curious as to what you intended to do once you obtained that which you sought? Do you indeed search for power then? Of what sort? For what reasons?” He paused. Aoren realized that he might have slipped ahead of himself. He had become wound up in the curiosity of his vision. It wasn’t often that bearing witness to someone else’s life, their trials and experiences, fascinated him so much. Then again, one did not often see another person die only to rise again as something more than what they were before. He cleared his throat.
“I think I should offer an apology as my words might be confusing. I am…gifted.” Aoren rest his left hand over the back of his right concealing the Seer’s Lily that rest there. He rubbed a thumb over the smoothness he felt there. “I know things others do not. I see things most can’t imagine. I can’t see everything. I do not know everything but sometimes…things simply come to me. Names. Pieces of other’s lives. Bits of knowledge. Entire chapters in the chronicles of other’s experiences.”
Aoren shrugged his shoulders. He normally wasn’t very shy about his gifts as a Seer. It had been a corner he’d crawled out of when he’d finally come to terms with the blessing Avalis had bestowed upon him. It had taken years but at that moment he felt much like the boy who’d been frightened by things he shouldn’t have seen or known.
“Your name. A piece of your life. They came to me in a vision. It is how I know that you are not who you appear to be but more than what meets others eyes. It is also how I am certain that with time, what you strive for will one day be yours. That is why I ask not what you are going to try to achieve but what are you going to do once you do it?”
The smug little smile slowly slipped from Evalin's features as instead of the odd and curious ramblings of a quite mad man instead were the words of someone quite sane, and quite dangerous. Aoren spoke as if he were reading from a text about her very life, easily thumbing through the pages of history she had never told anyone. That name... the name of a dead person who was no more was uttered with such easy familiarity it made Evalin clench her teeth, and whatever was said after that was erased by a blind emotion of roiling waves of anger and sadness in equal parts.
As he finished his words Evalin would rock forward, staggering to her feet and dusting off her dress. The ring upon her right hand felt heavy as she let it pull upon her djed, attracting more and more to gather into her right hand and arm as the ticks past. She did not immediately look at him, or speak. Instead she nudged the paper aside with a toe, her movements careful and methodic as she tried not to wrinkle or damage the paper in any way. Then, ignoring any looks she might have gotten from standing on the table Evalin walked straight up to Aoren, looking down at him with eyes burning with emotion.
"How dare you..." She whispered as her expresion twisted into one of anguish, hurt and despair, "How dare you speak that name to me."
Several ticks had past when Evalin raised her right hand, striking out with a powerful backhanded slap that would contain enough force to send him out of his chair. If he fell to the floor Evalin would jump off the table to stand over him, otherwise she would simply glare down at him.
"How dare you look into the past of others and thumb through it like it were some novel in this very library. What right do you have to say these things to me? You know NOTHING about me or who I am!" It hurt, somewhere deep in her chest. She felt... Shamed. Like her soul was laid bare to someone without her permission. Like she had been assaulted and dirtied. This man, this terrible man had looked into her heart and seen what she did not want to show anyone and yet he talked about it so casually.
"A gift you say..." If she could still shed tears they would have fallen and her chest would have heaved with emotion if such things were possible, "A gift best suited to the deceptive and foul hearted. You tread in places you are not welcome and dredge up the memories others would rather have forgotten just to flaunt them as a way to satisfy your own ego." She hissed and spit at Aoren's feet, "Pathetic wretch. It is monsters like you that have turned me to what I am. Be damned you and any children you might have to an early grave. Rather they pass on to the cycle than be raised by the most heinous of villains such as you are."
And with that she would leave, not giving a single glance back as she hurried past this man and made to the exit, wishing nothing more to leave his presence and never to see him again.
Wretched Aura: As a Wretched One Evalin possesses an unnatural aura about her that causes unease in those who get too close. It can come as a prickle of the hair on the back of the neck, a sense of 'wrongness' about her. How people experience it is different depending on their personality and how they handle the unnatural and unknown. Animals tend to become more agitated, more easily sensing how wrong Evalin is and often avoiding contact with her.
