Closed Some Fogs Are Forever (Savis)

Savis and Mauriel meet at Alheas Park and end up stumbling upon The Lonely Shack, where they may learn more than they bargained for...

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The Diamond of Kalea is located on Kalea's extreme west coast and called as such because its completely made of a crystalline substance called Skyglass. Home of the Alvina of the Stars, cultural mecca of knowledge seekers, and rife with Ethaefal, this remote city shimmers with its own unique light.

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Some Fogs Are Forever (Savis)

Postby Savis Maren on February 7th, 2019, 7:21 pm

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The strings did their utmost to form words in answer to the Crone, but the closed book did not lend well to speech. The Nuit didn't pay much attention to the Crone's countenance, internally fuming at the audacity of the woman in front of her. She'd experienced such self-serving possession of knowledge before. First-hand, at least. The indulgence into the craft of Auristics was epitomized by such self-serving information sleuthing. To look into the aura of another was an advantage, a knowing edge in many circumstances. Now? As Savis Maren funneled djed into her gaze, pulling at the depths of her soul, the whirling entity of aura became apparent to her. She looked onward to the Crone and found in her aura something she didn't quite understand. Her presence was a deep fog, thick and rife with a depth the Nuit didn't anticipate.

A shiver rolled through Savis Maren as the fog permeated forth, the sensation of the Crone's aura akin moisture over flesh. There was a warmth in the presence, a warmth lost on the undead's cold countenance. She contemplated it as she peered deeper still, intent on wafting through the fog and growing closer to the source. Savis Maren saw the source of it all. Raised flesh on the woman's shoulder bore heavy djed that threw fog around the rest of her aura. The Nuit wasn't privy to the power of a god's blessing, and the thick divine djed was palpable, but quite foreign to the undead's understanding. Curious, the Nuit thought, her silver eyes narrowed when the Crone began to address her.

Ha! Of course Suspicion is healthy, she thought, her internal musings thrown about her mind with a heavy echo that rained her presumptions around her over and over. She speaks in platitudes, just specific enough to be relevant, she assured herself. The Nuit needed this skepticism, for the more the Alheas Crone spoke, the deeper the Nuit plunged into memory... to a time where a very much alive young Savis could feel the gentle touch of a mother's hand on her heated forehead. Savis visibly squirmed as the memories tore free from shackles deliberately placed. The Nuit huffed aloud at the remark about the enjoyment of music, her laughter that followed hollow before she was utterly undone by the last sentence.

The old man that sang to me? At last, a notion specific enough to be identified as something partially unique to the nuit's circumstances. At last, the Nuit's high defenses faltered when fact was uttered, fact that in her nine decades of undeath, she'd never shared with anyone. "I went back to their graves..." she uttered at last, and she felt an illusory stinging at the eyes. A stinging that felt, to Savis Maren, very real indeed. She straightened her posture, leaning back into her seat after a moment as she retracted the Sight.

The Sight will do nothing for me without a clear mind. It's best to withdraw my tendrils, she mused. Without her truly meaning to, however, her mouth worked while her mind unhinged itself from the connection between aura.

"It was more than thirty years before I could return and they were gone. The music man was hardly better off than I was and there was no headstone to pay my respects to," she answered honestly. Savis felt cornered, interrogated about a part of her life that she did her utmost to bury, a time when living flesh wrapped around her soul, but failed to follow her commands. When the Alheas Crone shifted her attention to Mauriel, the undead's eyes ceased their narrowed expression. She was beyond relieved to no longer be under the scrutinizing gaze of the Alheas Crone. While she recovered from such invasive questioning, she listened intently to Mauriel's own interrogation. When Mauriel referred to being a Vantha man in a life before her previous, the Nuit looked to her, eyes wide once again as she began to sing. The song chilled Savis Maren to the bone, her senses aflame as she listened to music that she felt intimately aware of.

Fire burned in the depths of her psyche as she shook her head. No. That can't be... the Nuit reflected. Of course, the piece of music could simply be popular singing in whichever gods-cursed place the Vantha hailed from. But coincidence wasn't something that Savis Maren was willing to believe in so many times, one after another. Then, the Alheas Crone spoke to the both of them. She referred to knowledge and the power it bore. Such 'regular' conversation seemed to bolster the nuit, who withdrew from her mind in order to properly watch the card as it pressed into the wooden table. Three ticks passed and the cards were gone. Gone too was the deceptive warmth that threw daggers of fire into the Nuit's consciousness.

"Hiding from the past is the greatest magic I'm capable of. And yet, I refuse to allow some wretched Seer to call me a coward," she answered, her lips thin and pursed, arms crossed. Discomfort was rife within the Nuit, and yet, threatening to break free of the trappings, there was a warmth. The Nuit raised a bony hand, a gentle caress that sought to part the Ethaefal's closest hand. Beneath the table, she clutched her friend's hand, a measure of support as she was ripped asunder, her past put onto display and the vulnerability of her soul exposed for all within the Lonely Shack to witness in full.
Last edited by Savis Maren on February 10th, 2019, 9:35 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Some Fogs Are Forever (Savis)

Postby Neologism on February 8th, 2019, 7:38 am

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The Crone’s solid black eyes softened slightly at Mauriel’s words. The Lhavitian legend did not pretend to be the ultimate moral judge of character, but she did not wish to see her gifts gone to waste. The idea of an Ethaefal that thought themselves not done growing intrigued the Crone enough to accept the answer as a reason to share what she had learned from the Akvatari to the Akvatari. She could read the earnesty in her aura, but the Crone could also see further than that. The Chavi of the Ethaefal was frayed and twisted in on itself in the peculiar fashion of the Ethaefal. The reincarnation cycle was broken with the chosen ones, and so their past lives folded and melted into one another creating spectacular show for the Seer, and lighting the eagerness for her to share the tales that seemed so obvious to the Priestess, and yet unknown to the one that owned them.

To the Nuit, the Crone’s eyes hardened once more. The suspicion was back once again, and the Seer could clearly see the sensitive Chavi responding to her words. She suspected the Nuit spoke with a sharper tongue than she thought with, and had to simply filter through the records in her Chavi to understand this was not a treatment that was unique to the Crone. Unlike most however, the Crone was not blind to the whims and emotions of the Nuit before her. There was a hope and a hesitation forming in Chavena. The Crone could already tell the information that she would share with the nuit would create a path and arc of its own within Savis’ Chavi, and while the future was never completely certain, The Crone was confident that this would not be a life-breaking moment for the animator.

”I’ll forge a deal with the both of you.” Her ancient voice arose, not acknowledging the nuit’s sharp words after having appraised them both. But then she offered no more information. It did not seem so much a show of mystery as much as the crossing though process of someone’s mind who was in the past as well as the future, as well as the present. She already knew the outcome to the conversation, and she was working with information from past lives to feed her decisions, and so entertaining the single perception of the present seemed not to be even on the Crone’s mind.

With almost no warning, she turned to the Akvatari. ”You will have trouble remembering in this form, but I think I can help you.” The Crone leaned forward on the table, reaching across with two shriveled ancient hands and opening their palms up to ask for the hands of the Akvatari. ”Ah yes, I remember now.” The Crone nodded to herself as soon as the Akvatari took her hands, nodding her head slightly and for only a tick her eyes seemed to drift out of focus. The voice she spoke with seemed to hold inflections that were reminiscent of the Ethaefal’s speech, although it was not from Mauriel’s mouth. Whatever it was that the Crone was doing was not magical in any nature that the women would understand unless they had an intimate view on the Chavena and how it worked like the Crone. But as she half-focused her gaze on the Akvatari’s face, she began to grin slightly.

”You too, dear.” The Crone extended her other hand, reaching out for Savis’. She had no uncertainty that the nuit would not take it. She didn’t seem impatient either, still nodding ever so slightly to herself and staring into the Akvatari’s face. As soon as the Crone had both of the women’s hands in her own, she gave a nearly childish giggle. ”Ah yes, I see now. Now, listen closely. I am but a seer, not a changer of the future or invoker of dreams. I cannot force images upon you, but if you focus on yourself, not your thoughts, yourself. You may find it easier to recall what I will tell you.”

”Let’s start with the eager Akvatari. You mention memory of your Vantha form. Recall with me, if you can, tell me the name of your children? Do you recall the passing of your wife? I know it is a difficult memory, but it is often the hurtful things that stain our Chavi the deepest, and it is heavily present in this strand.” The Crone spoke in a low and steady tone. Her voice held the weight of narration, but once she had finished speaking, the room lapsed into a silence of thought while the Crone waited for answers. Her mind was deep in the Akvatari’s Chavi so she half expected complete answers, although her knowledge of Ethaefal and the present reality told her that the Akvatari may not recall all the details that the Seer could see so clearly.

”Yes dear, it is that pain, that loneliness, that is what had driven you in this life. You loved your wife dearly, and you loved your daughters more than anything, but your home was empty. They grew and created families of their own and they came to visit, but there is a different loneliness when you no longer share your life with someone who had previously walked every step beside you. I understand this pain dear. Now, you must look past it. With that sorrow you traveled. You risked Aquiras’ domain in search of the company you sought. And yet it would be years before you found a companion to spend your time with again. As Leth came to bring you to his domain, you found her.” The Crone was deep in her storytelling now, and although there was no pause in her words, there was a discernible difference in the tone. Her story began to morph and change. Where Mauriel was no longer the focus of this tale, Savis begun to slide onto the stage of the past.

”And you, my dear. You must recall the frustration? To be so young and to lose your limbs so quickly... Not even a significant child recalled as a friend, for at that age they had no interest in staying inside with the sickly one.” Just as with Mauriel, the Crone’s voice echoed the sadness of the memories she was seeing of the women before her, and yet this tactic was deliberate. From all her years she knew that she could not force a memory on anyone, she could merely see and remind them. Any details they wanted to believe would have to be recalled on their own. With time the Crone had found the easiest way to do this was by pulling at highly emotional memories, usually negative, which would help the women remember on their own. ”And yet, Mizas are a powerful thing, and it seems, in this circumstance, they could buy friendship. That is when he found you, the Vantha. Your memories may be foggy since your sight was gone at that point, but your Chavi is rich with this memory. The memory of the first song that he sang you. The first time you felt joy in so many moons of pain and depression. At such a young age the comfort of a mother’s touch was powerful, but the necessity of stimulation and entertainment was more so. Without limbs to play with, without eyes to see with… music became your world. Music was his world too, it still is, I see. Music brought you both together…. Can either of you remember the first song you shared?”

The Crone’s head finally lifted as her slow and steady procession of words came to a conclusion, one last question hanging in the air with so many more. She spoke as a woman who anticipated each of her listeners to see the story exactly as she saw it. And yet she also spoke as a teacher, trying to walk her pupils through a memory to help them draw conclusions without giving them an answer. She watched closely with her auristics and her divination to watch how their emotions and Chavi reacted, to try and see through their eyes if they were recalling the events she wanted them to think of.
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Some Fogs Are Forever (Savis)

Postby Mauriel on February 9th, 2019, 5:16 pm

Savis' brief yet solemn overview of how her last ties to her mortal life were severed made Mauriel really sad. To be torn apart from your mobility, senses, your family, and then your very flesh, and given no chance to regain a modicum of your identity for years on end... It was hard to imagine a more difficult fate for a mere child. The Nuit was unsurprisingly not too eager to further explore the topic, and relinquished the floor to the Crone swiftly.

While conversing with the Crone, despite her hectic thoughts, Mauriel couldn't miss Savis' gesture of surprise on the mention of her past life. The undead's pearly eyes were met with raised eyebrows, as Mauriel started to put two and two together. She did not remember, but the gentle way Crone led them towards certain topics became increasingly apparent. Alongside her parents, she casually mentioned the man who sang to Savis, but what if he was the centerpiece of this conversation?

Savis' turbulent feelings did little to quench the storm brewing inside Mauriel. Her breath shortened, and she started fidgeting on her pillow, although her giant tail allowed her little wiggle room. Savis took the Akvatari's hand in her own, and she instinctively clutched at it. The cold dry skin did not give her the instinctive comfort she was seeking. In fact, the very fact that she was seeking comfort from Savis scared her further. Yes, she's made a friend. She's opened herself up a bit. She was still uncertain about how she felt towards the Nuit or where their relationship will go past the mutual benefit. The sudden onslaught of history caught her by surprise, deepening their relationship at a pace she was not ready for. Mauriel has felt incredibly alone during these past seasons, despite all the company she's had. She was walled off, she hardly understood herself, and nobody she knew understood her at all, barring Leth - or so she told herself. She pushed those feelings away and enjoyed momentary interactions, being sociable, and pursuing her goals. But now... is she about to find out something that may change that profound existential loneliness of a newborn immortal? And if so, if her suspicions prove true... is that something that she wants?

The Crone kept talking. She'll cut them a deal. She'll help her remember. An expecting hand on the table in front of her. You asked to be awoken, girl, she reminded herself, now follow through. There was no going back at this point either way. Refusal would mean submitting herself to the torture of never knowing for sure, or having to go through the cumbersome and slow process through which she sometimes recovered memories, digging deep, focusing on feelings, trying to restore them from various associations her brain made, through triggers and reminders, and still knowing no rules to the game. No, she was deep in the wilderness now, and she'll either brave it now or lose her mind trying later.

The hand still waited, and slowly, apprehensively, her own was gently placed in it. The Crone's skin did offer that instinctive comfort of mammalian warmth, though they were rather more rough to the touch than Mauriel expected. The Crone offered the same to Savis, and with that they were all holding each other in a neat triangle.

She obediently tried to focus, invoking the imagery the genderless being tried to spark in her mind. She felt really walled off from her memories in this form, she saw or heard nothing, but they were not entirely inaccessible. She did know laughter of children, and she was almost certain she could see them playing in the snow if she meditated on it tonight. But they all left. She was alone at the end, and the Seer confirmed as much. No names graced her lips. She thought she heard the music of her eldests' voice, but she could not know whether her mind was playing tricks on her or not. The memories were so close, but the figures she saw were akin to the being in front of her, hard to grasp, and if she thought she did, impossible to get a hold of. Perhaps tonight... But one name came back with ease, and with an accompanying image which turned Mauriel stone cold.

A loving smile greeted her in her mind's eye, somehow naive yet wise, the eyes soaking in Mauriel - or rather who she was back then. Long black curly hair framed the pale young face. Too young. She was too young! Mauriel could not recall the very moment her wife died, nor the illness that took her, but the feelings she went through were coming back in an avalanche, and the only thing keeping her from breaking down was her mind incessant denial to truly deal with them. "I remember Ethelen, my wife," she said, sobbing, "but no more." The Seer's words pierced like daggers, and with each stab some hidden beast within her clawed harder at its confines, threatening to break free. She was growing restless and angry, and rather dissociated. Why was she imploring her to remember all the pain? Didn't Mauriel ask for something useful? What would this achieve? All of her previous analyses fell by the wayside in wake of the reopened wounds, and she frowned as she listened further, pulling her hands away from the women to wipe her eyes, and crossing them in front of her instead of returning them, as she continued listening.

It did surprise her that she traveled. She actually did do it once! She thought she never managed a serious attempt, but Leth decided on taking her only after she had done so. Perhaps it was driven by circumstance, and hardly successful, but it was an achievement nonetheless. And then Mauriel found her. She gulped, turning her head to meet Savis' gaze yet again, her eyes lingering even if the undead turned away. No memories came. A dying man, stranded far away from his family, watching a girl die slowly and painfully, perhaps reliving his past traumas, or maybe seeing his daughters in the youth, or merely looking for a companion to follow him into Dira's embrace. Whichever was the case, it did nothing to move her caged mind closer to the memory, but she could still feel empathy for the man she used to be, and for young Savis Maren, entrusted to a stranger to accompany her on her last journey.

She paused, contemplating the Seer's question about a song they shared. Her head slowly shook 'no,' but her eyes were still on Savis, as she suspected that her friend remembered. Mauriel reached for her hand again apologetically, offering some comfort to the girl, as she could've been going through a memory as painful as the ones the Akvatari scraped off from the pits of her soul.

OOCSorry for template change mid-thread, I'm just too in love with this one now and it seems very fitting
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Some Fogs Are Forever (Savis)

Postby Savis Maren on February 10th, 2019, 1:37 pm

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Memories were torrential in nature for Savis, the Nuit's past a fearsome cascade that shot fear and hatred through the consciousness. The decades of unlife she'd experienced were hardly nourishing in nature, and the introspection that the Nuit often relied on to ground her only served to scald her senses as she was forced again and again in the Winter to remember the darkness.

I brought myself into the light in order to banish this, she mused, listening to the Crone as she spoke to Mauriel. Then, the woman turned her attention back to Savis. A hand extended, a lifeline towards a terrible past the Nuit never fully healed from and she felt in the Crone's reach that a crossroad of destiny had formed. Was she, truly, ready to experience the past again? Memory was both assailant and shield, lessons learned meant to protect the fragile psyche from further attack.

And yet, like the gluttonous cur who eats and eats until their stomach burst from the action, she craved satiation. She needed to know for sure, the game that the Alheas Crone played with the two immortals bringing her past the crossroads and fully into the need to understand. She reached for the Crone's hand, still clutching onto Mauriel's with the other. As the three of them sat in their triangle, all holding one another, the Crone began with Mauriel.

Of course the music man had children, she realized, her young mortal self never truly garnering answers of the elderly musician's life before coming to her aid. Savis listened, her unblinking silver eyes darting between Mauriel's face and the Crone's forehead (for she couldn't bring herself to meet her eyes).

"You risked Aquiras' domain in search of the company you sought. And yet it would be years before you found a companion to spend your time with again."

Tragedies spilled over the sunsets of the world, the passage of time a corrupting thing. For some, it loosed them of their sanity and their mind. For others, they lost love and companionship. For Savis, she reflected that she sat somewhere in the middle, still sharp of mind but so fragile in that preservation. Love lost for the Nuit was an old wound, one that had begun to scab with the new attachments she'd made within Lhavit. The healing process was going well, until this wretched Seer deemed it her responsibility to tear that scab open and allow the bleeding to resume anew.

As The Alheas Crone spoke to Mauriel, the Nuit listened closely, but her mind was taken by the fogs of memory, her silver eyes growing somewhat vacant as she delved into a past she wished desperately to avoid. "We've got a surprise for you, Savis!" her mother called out, a musical chime to her voice that'd been lost in the season since the child had lost her sight. To avoid the girl shambling about in the eternal darkness, she'd been all but confined to her room, the gentle breeze from an open window the only reminder of Zeltiva's blue coast. The Nuit, in her recollection, could even smell the tang of the ocean's salt, the warmth of the sun before it surrendered to the crisp chills of a Winter that the Goddess Morwen was there to rain snow upon.

"What is it?" the Nuit murmured aloud, her mind deeply entrenched in recollection and she hardly realized the omission. "We have a guest. Be a dear and say hello, won't you?"

"Are they here?" she asked, an impatience in her tone. The dying girl always detested being admonished for her manners, and she certainly hated it more now when she couldn't even see the person she was supposed to make nice with.

"Oh... Yes, he's right outside," the mother answered, a growing rift between mother and daughter only augmented by the callousness of her treatment.


As The Crone addressed Savis, skepticism was gone beyond a shadow of a doubt. Shivers, very much real tore through her body as the mind recalled living flesh. She shook her head, the illusory stinging of tears that could never fall bringing a clench to her jaw. Within her aura, the sadness flowed freely, and she allowed her bony thumb to traverse Mauriel's palm before she answered,

"I didn't need to see him to remember who he was," she answered, her words a faint murmur as the recollection of her parents throwing the responsibility of comfort to another momentarily flickered within her, a leaf taken from the page of history before flipping to the next chapter.

Fingers sifted into silken auburn hair, kneading into her scalp before they lowered to brush tiny tears from the corners of her eyes. Mr. Sorrel was a man who deeply understood the pain in Savis' soul, and didn't shy away from it as her mother and father would in the trenches of advancing sickness. After a particularly brutal treatment involving leeches, Savis was weaker than ever, with no relief for the concave of suffering that permeated around her like a vile aura.

A girl who was once the president of her school's chess club was now relegated to being an outcast. She was a burden and now, a bearer of unjust physical punishment. She never felt better, and she'd insist on her mother to stop those awful treatments and just let her die in peace. Little did she know that blessed fate would never come for her.

The touch faded from Savis' cheeks and her hair, and she could hear when the music man leaned back in the chair provided to him. The creaking wood swayed back and forth, a rocker given to a man that was only slightly more resilient than the girl he was comforting. Then, the mellifluous strumming of a lute permeated the air, and Savis leaned back as she allowed herself to be carried by the melody.


"His first song was in another language. I can only assume it was Vani, given what he was," she answered at last. Narrowed eyes were so much different now, as Savis looked to the ground and cursed her inability to remember the words. But even the sharp mind of Savis Maren could only be pushed so far, and she faltered again while attempting to save face with her tone and expressionless features. The silver orbs shifted to stare at nothing in particular.

"The last one was a local ballad about the swingers on East Street. He never told me what it meant. Then, the light came back, but everything else went away..."
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Some Fogs Are Forever (Savis)

Postby Neologism on February 17th, 2019, 1:35 am

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It was during that seemingly long chime of silence that the two children before her took time to reflect and gather the memories she had helped them find. The Crone could watch their memories as clearly as they did while it occurred to them and there lay a faint smile on her lips. She did not mind dredging into the pain so much, but her heart was always warmed when one found connection. Even then she could see their Chavi intertwining and coming together once again after having been apart for so long.

”It is okay dear, this form will not afford you much memory of your past life.” The Crone murmured a reassurance to the Akvatari .”You give it time now, and when Leth graces the sky once again you should find it easier to search into the past and find what you cannot see right now. I cannot guarantee you will uncover everything, but I doubt your friend here would be opposed to recounting her own tales together with you.”

Then the girls would feel the boney and ancient digits of the Crone slipping from their hands as she broke the intimate triangle. ”At this time, there is little more I can do to aid the both of you in rediscovering yourselves. Savis, you will find it easier in the moment to recall past events, but When Mauriel takes on her Ethaefal seeming once more, she should use my words to recall what she can. I am a Seer, a humble watcher of Chavi, and I cannot create or alter it such as the worshipers of Nysel, and so cannot call forth these memories for you. The work must be done by the both of you.” Her words held a weight to them, but they were not grave. It was merely the weight of responsibility and the reminder that work was to be done if they wanted to recall their time together better. ”Or, perhaps, you can find a follower of Nysel and place your trust in them to invade your Chavi and call forth these memories without touching any other parts of what ties you to the Ukalas.” The mischievous tone had returned, and her words could be interpreted as a warning, a joke, or in any other way now that the seemingly emotionally charged words were completed.

”Now, no compromise is complete without repayment.” The Crone spoke again, the mischief fading as her elderly voice returned to its usually monotone. ”However there is nothing that I need of you two today. In the seasons to come we will find an unrest in this city, no matter how spoiled the denizens of Lhavit believe themselves to be, we are made of three people, not one. There are those who live for magic.” Black eyes fall on Savis. ”And those who live for art.” Black eyes shifted to Mauriel, no emotion resting in her gaze nor her words. ”And those who exist to grovel the Gods for Survival.” The Crone said, letting her ambiguous gaze settle on each woman’s eyes, watching her for a tick before switching to the other. She did not follow up on her words, but merely let odd information end with this sentence, watching what the women thought of this sudden end, and the hanging demand of a favor owed.
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Some Fogs Are Forever (Savis)

Postby Savis Maren on February 18th, 2019, 10:36 am

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While undeath had oh so many detrimental effects on the Nuit, the wretched sentimentality of her all-too-human soul could not be so easily expunged.

Hide it all, never let anyone see. The wretched emotions of the living belong not on the face of a monster. Abandon it, and with it, abandon that humanity of yours. Only then will eternity bring its dark smile to you, she recalled. The first master Savis Maren possessed sought to shake the scared girl from her terrible depression. She'd been forced out of her own body and thrust into that of an older child's. Dark hair matted her face at that time, unruly to any sort of grooming. Savis raised her hand up to caress her own face, as if to determine which skin those piercing silver eyes were wrapped with.

Your family promised you reprieve from your illness. And look at you, now! You can walk again. You see with new eyes, hear with new ears. How fortunate you were, my dear, to never know the pleasures of the flesh. For you'll certainly never know them now. You're mine, and that heart of yours will become the dark vessel I require it to become. Savis Maren was encased in the darkness. It fell along her shoulders, replacing auburn tresses with the unkempt, coarse black strands of some abandoned shell. The young Nuit shook her head then, and the much older Savis Maren shook it now, hoping to the gods that forsook her that they could rid her of the conflict that stirred within.

"At this time, there is nothing more I want to hear from you. You expect gratitude for tearing worlds asunder? You're..." she trailed off, feeling the warmth of Mauriel's hand in her own cold flesh. She turned her head to face the woman, and she couldn't finish her statement as the Akvatari girl she'd come to be so fond of took the form of Sorrell in her eyes. She saw the kindly old man in the Akvatari's pools of dark, violet-laden silver and let the screams of venom die on her lips.

"I'm sorry," she began, raising her hands in surrender to the Crone before she turned and pulled Mauriel into a hug. The Nuit's shoulders shook with the sob that her eyes wouldn't let turn to tears. She pressed her forehead against the woman who wore Sorrel's eyes before she raised her hands to take to the satchel that she hung on the chair she sat on. She produced the living notebook, Tunes, and flipped it to its earliest blank page. She began her lines towards the second third of the page, keeping the text centered. The Nuit's lips parted in conjunction with her writing, and her unpractised voice struggled to catch a tune as she sang,

"The stars shine for you my dear
They guide you on your way
The darkness tries to capture you
But in the light you stay
You hurt and weep but soon you'll be
A star child in Leth's majesty
Please, my star, look to the sea
Please, my heart overwhelms me

Dira comes for us my dear
She rides the winds for you
She comes to release you
And soon you will be free
But please, my star, don't forget
Please, my heart, do not relent
Remember me in your final breaths
And we'll meet again
We'll meet again"


Savis Maren released Mauriel's hand, inscribing the last of the lines before passing the notebook to Mauriel. She couldn't look at the text, the words burning red in her heart. The final lullaby Sorrell sang her had been a lie. And yet... the truth of it was staggering.

"You didn't lie to me, Mr. So-" she cut herself off, and then rose from her chair.

"I'm sorry, Alheas Crone. Thank you for this... enlightening experience. I hope to never see you again," she completed, lifting the hood over her eyes before leaving the Lonely Shack, her friend, and the Crone behind. She didn't stray too far, but waited outside of the Shack as she sought to regain her composure. She hurriedly picked up her things on the way out, but left Tunes where she'd written on it. She simply couldn't be in that chair anymore. Or that room.

So many sweet lies whispered in my ear before that horrible day... So many terrible truths after... And now, Mauriel serves as an eternal reminder of the living flesh I once had. She's a wound that will never heal and yet... the Nuit didn't... couldn't leave her behind.
Savis Maren
Only a little bit dead
 
Posts: 295
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Joined roleplay: July 8th, 2018, 11:49 am
Race: Nuit
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