Closed Midnight Meeting

[Keene] Why is a strange man drawing in the sand?

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

Midnight Meeting

Postby Eliro Darkcrest on September 20th, 2015, 1:53 am


60th OF AUTUMN, 515AV
10th BELL, 30th CHIME, NIGHT
EAST STREET BEACH

The biting chill of the saltwater on her bare skin was almost more dulling than it was refreshing. The chilly fall night was not the most preferable time to take a swim, but Eliro was so dead tired, she cared very little.

With blue eyes closed against the grey moonlight, Eliro let her senses loose in her Gnosis, watching the life below her. The land-dwellers believed their Bay was nearly dead, and could only think so from what their fishing nets failed to bring up, but the Svefra knew better. The life that floated just beneath her grasp told a different story. A tale of shell fish and seaweed rather than fish and coral. Nearly a mile away, just to the edge of where her gnosis allowed her to go, Mau hovered. He didn't much like the cold. And if she had been with her Pod they would hae left for the Eyktol coasts long ago. But she had to wait, and wait she would.

Rot in the Bay. Eliros eyes snapped open as she meditative state disappeared. To wish for an answer from father Ocean would be pointless. He had given her a year of silence already, it likely would not change soon. But as the sea-woman snapped out of her trance, she realized how uncomfortable the cold was. A forcible wave of goose-skin shattered her spine and Eliro kicked her legs out to push herself into a vertical position. For a second the Svefra gathered her bearings. She could swim back to her Casinor and warm in her bed, or she could return to the beach and start a fire for warmth.

Although she knew she was going to wake up early the next morning to fish, the Svefra opted for the beach. She had left her things there any how.

Leaving her small bubble of warmth behind, Eliro sunk her face into the waves as she headed back towards the shore. Normally she would have taken her time, gliding with the waves. Except the night was far too cold to rationalize staying in the freezing water any longer. The simple rag that served as her drying blanket seemed more and more inviting as she neared the grey beach. The paired with her ksin of beer to warm her stomach.

But as her bare feet hit the hard sand, Eliro found she could not go any further. In the dark, even with the nearly full moon, Eliro couldn't make out exactly which tree she had draped her blanket and waterskin over during the sunset. But that didn't matter so much as the fact that there was a figure blocking where she was and where her blanket potentially could be.

Wide eyed, Eliro shivered in place as she let the waves slide past her shoulders, picking her braid of metallic blonde hair up and attempting to wash in in front of her face. For a second, the Svefra merely watched. He seemed to simply be drawing in the sand. The man's back wasn't suite faced to her, so she got only a glimpse of his profile before he moved slightly and clouded her view of his face. Another violent shiver rocked through her spine and Eliro clenched her shoulders with each hand as the shivers didn't recede this time. Petch it. Eliro thought, stepping forward, bringing her shoulder from the salty waves only to be bombarded with the chilly autumn wind.

Quickly, and not worrying about lessening her noise, Eliro splashed through the more calm waves. Once she was free of the water, she dug her feet into the sand with vigor, taking long strides towards the tree lines. If the man didn't stop her, and if her blanket was still there, Eliro would dry her limbs off just as erratically, not giving the stranger her attention until she was adequately swaddled in the blanket.


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Eliro Darkcrest
Loosing the Illusions
 
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Midnight Meeting

Postby Keene Ward on September 20th, 2015, 6:42 am

The wind was quiet that night, little more than a whisper on the edge of perception as it drifted beside him. The routine was something familiar to both the boy and the breeze that followed him like a shadow, just barely catching at the dark-hued cloak that hung just inches above the ground, boots carefully placed as the lines drifted from the stick's end. His time in Zeltiva had been marked by surprise after surprise, and the peaceful lap of the waves against the sandy shore in rhythm to the soft hiss of the night air through the sleepy needles of the trees was a calming balm to the ever constant whir of his mind. The symbols that littered the ground were meticulously placed, as if the thoughts that ravaged his weary mind might be contained within the sharp angle of the daeq or the smooth curve of the hea, each a single representation for a whole host more unseen, much like the singular nature of body being host to a world of thought.

As he worked, Keene, kept himself focused, pushing each unnecessary thought out of his mind as they came, holding those that were relevant at the forefront, instilling his force of will in the symbols he produced: protection, attraction, control, balance, and containment. These were each achieved in varying ways, some from a single glyph, while others were an entire sigil. Mistakes came often, and Keene used the toe of his boot almost as often as the end of the stick, drawing and redrawing until he deemed the shapes acceptable. He had found that his journal's once empty pages had filled rapidly over the duration of his trip earlier in the season, something that was not necessarily a bad thing, but as he had little intention of single-handedly crafting a glyphing library, he had taken to the more malleable medium of the grainy sands of Zeltiva's more secluded beaches.

The majority of the city's coast was rocky: large weathered stones upon which dark waters beat in an endless rhythm of give and take. Those few alcoves along the shoreline were often wrapped up tightly between stone, water, and wood, removed enough from the general public that it made unlikely the chance of discovery by a passer by. As he was still out in the open, however, there was still the chance that his work could be stumbled upon, a likelihood that kept him from testing the runes with more arcane experimentation. Still, even with a lack of practical application, Keene had made progress in both speed and composition of his sigils, and progress was the point of the exercise. As the light of the moon grew ever so slightly with the mounting bells, Keene's attentions slipped farther and farther from the world around him. It was a cathartic exercise, one in which he could lose himself to the steady beat of his heart and gentle rise and fall of his chest, pressing against the chilled fabric of his shirt and cloak, the itch of the cloth only a distant annoyance in the face of the creation and composition of will.

It wasn't until he heard the irregular splash and crash of the water's disturbance that he realized he was no longer alone. The breeze about his ankles wandered with a subtle curiosity, his clothes fluttering only slightly in its wake as it moved out and over the bay, sliding over the nubile curves of the woman who rose up out of the waves as if she belonged beneath them, eyes fierce in spite of her shivering form. Keene paused, the stick tapping against his led in idle contemplation as his grey-green gaze held steady with the woman's own sea-tinted stare, but as she moved forward, he stepped into her path, making sure to hold eye-contact as res slipped from the skin of wrists, moving in a pale blue wave behind him, marring the sigils into nothingness with twists and whirls before the res faded into nothingness. To keep her attention on him, Keene took his stick and, without giving the gesture much thought, pressed one end against her shoulder in a very deliberate, fluid movement. Immediately after, his voice rose to match the gentle lap of the waves, tone cool and steady, lacking any sort of emotional connection at all, seemingly unaffected by both the woman's state of undress and his peculiar reaction to her unexpected presence.

"Good evening."
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Midnight Meeting

Postby Eliro Darkcrest on October 11th, 2015, 2:43 am


Good evening? Who says good evening to a stranger in the middle of the night? A violent shiver protested the sudden stop, and Eliro glanced at the stick on her shoulder. Unlocking one hand from her ribs, she reached up to gently push the stick aside, stepping back as she did so. "Ahoy, landlubber." She muttered, her already think accent buckling under the chattering teeth. Perhaps he meant to start something, but at the moment the Sevfra was getting too cold to entertain the idea of a interrogation. "Me threads on de tree. Ye gimme time to getat now." She explained, blue eyes sliding towards the tree line, where she could almost think she saw the shape of her clothes.

Spinning on her feet, Eliro strode back away from the man again, narrowing in on where her garments hung on the branch. "Avast, what ye furlin'?" Her jaw shook involuntarily, sabotaging her words. "Drawrin' somethin' there?" She reworded her thought, aware of the possible communication issue. Eliro wouldn't have guessed the land-dweller would have had a very good grasp on her mother's tongue. Grinning when she grabbed the blanket, immediately wrapping it around her shoulders. Autumn was too cold for a swim, but she was too busy for anything else.

Curious, the Svefra turned around to peer in the sand where he stood, but saw no breaks in the shell patterns other than her own footmarks. Surely if he had brushed it away with his foot, something would show. Turning her eyes back up to the man, Eliro's first instinct was to accuse him of something, although what she didn't know. Then again, who was she to talk? Svefra didn't exactly hold the trophy for clean reputations. But instead of reading any expression from him, Eliro felt as if she was looking at a mask. The face of a shark morphed into the frame of a human. "Ye gone smile? Hang de jib? Anythin'?" Rough fingers pulled her blanket closer around her shoulders and the Svefra's eyebrows dropped with the corners of her lips. This guy was weird.


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Eliro Darkcrest
Loosing the Illusions
 
Posts: 57
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Joined roleplay: May 17th, 2015, 3:08 am
Location: Zeltiva
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