[Flashback]Once Upon A Time in Kalinor...[Veldrys +]

[Dramiana Rosenthal]

TimeThe Autumn Solstice - 509AV Rococo and webs. That was the best way to describe the majestic eeriness of Kalinor. Mia stared at the lofty cavern chandeliers with shameful eyes. It felt as though, through a veil, Kalinor’s people existed only in a far-away dream - too bemused in their everyday lives to notice her. But when you are among a society of puritans, it is as if your heart is throwing itself against your rib cage at every second. Dra-Miana’s fingers often clutched her forearms for fear her impure blood would somehow burst through her flesh crying, “Unclean! Unclean!” Exaggerated as her fears may be, the worry of the fanatical crushed her feathery, Gothic grace from a series of fluid movements into the stiff shivers of paranoia. Clacking heels and rustling chains ruined any composure she so desperately sought to keep at that moment. Her pale right hand pressed upon the obscure webs while the thrumming of her heartstrings yenned in all of the most painful ways. The desire of wanting to belong mixed with the estrangement of an entire race was enough to spoil any appetite. No, the feelings could only be quelled by heavy gulps and slow blinks. Deep breaths had to consciously be made to drown out the shallow ones. The chains woven around her left side were all the more heavy with the burden of remorse – the sort of weight a child has when they blame themselves for a parent’s death. Despite many a Symenstra experiencing this hollow, Dra-miana could not fill it with the promise of a sprawling web or the eccentricities of elegant weaving skills that her pure blooded kin shared. Her neck craned down to let the curtain of her hair hide her pale face (wretchedly pale from the blood draining) so that she may look upon the diary of her mother for false hope. It lie open upon her left palm, barely balanced due to a hand that was being forced to remain steady. Contained on the parchment was one page where Common had been scribbled mundanely, though the remaining, unseen pages were glittered with glyphs. Perhaps she opened her mouth to ask it for advice, but only cold desolate breath trickled from paragraph to paragraph: “There dwelled in Kalinor in the days of your youth a young Nestran web of the Zantedeschia name. They were no friends of mine, and I can not speak the maiden name of the web from whence I came, nor should you, my daughter, ever utter it in the caverns of Viratas, but they were reliable for the task which we confided in them. Only seek out the Son of Davaen, the Animator, whose lineage has secretly blessed the Tomes of Night for ages long forgotten.” “It is with great faith that I hold onto the belief that the gift of animation will be passed to his son, for I fear the father would look upon you with deepest scorn. Speak not your true name and look none in the eye, for though Symenestran blood runs in your veins, you are still your father’s daughter.” Mia’s shoulders slumped. “Mind the grace of your movements and listen much. Do not weave. Do not smile. You are of the strain who still remember the ebullient fountains and emerald trees and travels with the sun. Do not make friends of any kind. Do not --” It was here that the young woman had to shut her book; the pages closed tenderly to not overshadow the ambient noise. Nevertheless, her chains clattered unexpectedly as a violent wind howled through the cave sending her hair and gown adrift like frantic ribbons. “Never should I have deemed it sane to venture here…” whispered she, turning 'round to return home. It was at that moment that an ominous wind cast the malachite flakes from the trough to the fire – a fire she had failed to notice until it blazed. And for a fraction of a second, her heart stopped in horror. There was no turning back.

[Velarian Zantedeschia]

Before Velarian the snake moved. Lazily the reptile coiled on a moos crowned rock, golden sunlight warming its slender body. Two dark stripes ran down its spin in most elaborate patterns, its eyes brown mottled orbs of yellow, cold and unblinking. If the serpent mind her quiet admirer, it made no sign of it. Of all bests roaming the quiet depth of the Gyvaka Swamp the pale Symenestra was one of those creatures who posed little threat to the animal's inherit reflexes and poisonous fangs.

The animator in turn knew he was well advised to keep his distance. And so he did. A dozen yards away he was sitting on the overgrown remains of a formerly impressive tree, a cypress struck down by a thunderbolt three years previous. Already the swamp had started to reclaim the fallen giant, fungi spreading all over one side, beetles and other vermin residing in its rotting core. The man was just glad it still bore his weight, while he balanced a wooden board and some loose sheets of parchment on his knees. Drawings covered all but the last, although the tangle of black lines on white was hard to make out as anything else than careless and even a little clumsy scribblings. Velarian was no painter. He did not even try to draw objects or landscapes the way some other artists might. Instead the Symenestra focused entirely on movement. The shivering of grass in a light breeze, the wreathing of a reptile's slender form and elegant grace of deers stirred into movement by a carelessly made noise. Converted into lines and half finished motion sequences they resulted in a complex arrangement only its creator was full able to decipher.

At last Velarian looked over the mass of sketches he had made, then he started to pick up the few tools he had brought with him, heading back to Kalinor. Since the day he had come to meet Haeli he had found his way to the Gyvaka rather frequently and while he did not try to catch study objects anymore, he still liked to study nature, to pick up ideas for his work.

Around him the landscape changed until the Symenestra reached the dark mouth gaping in the mountain side, the path leading down towards the underground city, his home. Soon the only thing ringing through darkness was the sound of his bare feet on rock and the distant dripping of water. Today Velarian did not meet any hunter, nor one of the rare merchants who from time to time would brace the wild to visit Kalinor. Indeed the animator would have thought himself alone, had he not seen a flash of light ahead. Down the pathway green flames licking higher, illuminating a lone figure standing before it. A young woman from what he could deduce.

The sight woke his curiosity. It was rare to find woman venture to the underground city, his people had gathered a certain unsavory reputation among other races. Silent Velarian continued forward.

"You are not a trader."

Another stride in the young woman's direction carried the slender man into the flickering gleam of the signal pit. He was tall,yet not overly so, his face framed by loose ashen strands of almost silvery color. Dark ruby eyes settled on the the female.

"You are one of us," the man switched to Symnos without much of a though, nodding towards the city above their heads. "Or almost at least," he concluded with a small smile. "I don't believe I know you. My name is Velarian of the Zantedeschia web. Who might you be?"

NotesHey, Velarian's father is named Andavel and his grandfather was Javile, I named them in a post once, but did not put them into the CS yet. Their web is also rather old, it is just not very prestigeous Next time maybe ask ahead

Oh, and Veldrys wants to join too, just so you know.

[Veldrys]

He’d been about to leave Kalinor. In the home of his Web or at the Purging there were few opportunities for privacy, and he didn’t dare to practice his magic where others could watch him. He was worried about what they would say if they found out that he could make himself look like other people, that he could make himself look as if he were of mixed blood or not Symenestra at all. In many places magic was regarded with suspicion, and there were dangers involved in what he did. Since he had first learned the art of Morphing the healer had gone onto the surface to practice. There were few people in the wilderness outside of Kalinor. As always he wore his exoskeleton armor to protect his fragile body and on top of it a robe of light silk. While he usually preferred to keep his claws short as it made treating his patients at the Purging easier, they had been lenghtened with Morphing now so that he would be able to climb through the underground caves and tunnels with ease. While there were paths through the city that required little more than a certain sense of balance, he preferred to find his own way over stone and rock, extending microscopic hooks from his skin to allow him to scale any objects that were in his way. Soon he was near one of the entrances to Kalinor. He’d thought about just slipping past whoever was there at the moment – or using another path out of the city – but then something caught his attention. Or rather somebody. From his position, half hidden from their sight, he watched the animator whose son he had treated some time earlier as he talked to a woman who was obviously of mixed blood. A frown married his face. Despite the fact that he desperately wished for a way that would allow the women of his race to live, to survive the birth of their children, he disapproved of people like her. In his opinion it was almost as important to keep the bloodline pure so that the Symenestra wouldn’t become a race of half humans, weak and insignificant. Who was this half blood? And what kind of business did the animator have with her? Did he know her? He made a step closer so that he would be able to listen to their conversation, his initial plan to practice his magic almost forgotten.

[Dramiana Rosenthal]

OOCForgive me. I read in your Character Sheet differently. Velarian was born as the second son of Davaen Zantedeschia and a Symestrian woman named Soh Jonquil. I would love for Veldrys to play also. RPing with the both of you is a profound honor. Also, Veldrys, due to your character being out of range, I didn't have her respond to him, but I by no means wish to ignore you. <3 Hesitantly at first, but compelled by curiosity, the young half-Symanestra moved closer to Valerian as he spoke: “You are not a trader.” The widow’s tiny hands moved to touch his face, her pupils so wide that they blacked out the amethyst irises her mother had given her. Although terrified, there was an acute curiosity that hinted at the strong will and discipline burning within her. This young creature was good-natured, through-and-through, though there was a strong aura of distrust radiating from her svelte, frail body. It was heavy, sending waves of paranoia through the chinks and chasms of the Woven Gate. Nevertheless, she did not flinch when her hands finally reached the locks of his hair. “Silver,” she said, caught in a daze. “And yet so young. I knew not their locks were silver, also. Are there other colors?” A quick movement and those big black eyes were staring into his, the flame of the beacon reflected in them with hypnotic, dazzling flickers. “Your eyes are red…” With fascination and deep focus, she stared without qualm, to the point that his switching to Symenos had caught her unawares. Also, Miana was hypnotizing him, though it was unintentional. If anything, he’d only feel a little sleepy should he notice. "You are one of us," the man switched to Symenos without much of a thought, nodding towards the city above their heads. "Or almost at least," he concluded with a small smile. "I don't believe I know you. My name is Velarian of the Zantedeschia web. Who might you be?" At the revelation of his name, her head shook as though struck with an epitome. At the same time, she stepped away from his personal space with reluctance; the young summoner fidgetingwith her heavy silver chain. “Mia…Miana. Dra-Miana," blurted the damsel in Common. "I’ve no web. Webs, ha ha. Had a home. Not that you don’t have one! Have a lovely home, I’m sure. Quite sure! Had a floor and a roof and everything in mine. I mean, not that you don’t have those things, er…” A violent echo rattled through the stalactites and cavern walls while the foreigner stumbled over her words, trying desperately not to offend the much taller, much more experienced widow(er). This feeble attempt wouldn’t have failed so miserably had the great length of her chain slipped off of her shoulders and gathered around her left arm and ankle at that very moment. Afterward, to make up for the clumsiness, Valerian would feel a tiny right hand slip into his own giving it a nervous, but firm shake. “I am very honored to meet you. In fact, you’re just the man I was trying to meet. You see, I’ve got this letter—“ With atrocious segue, the young woman let go of his hand and scrambled to open her great book. Dust from the parchment blanketed the stone floor while she blew upon the pages letting him read for himself. There was Common interlaced with glyphs and brush strokes that were distinctly Symenestran. There were even little doodles of Kalinor and spider webs on the manuscript! But the book itself held a deeper, darker heritage. “I need your help,” replied she softly and slowly, her voice barely audible at all as he read, losing both confidence and momentum the longer the silence grew between them. “This book is more precious to me than my life, but it needs a life of its own, otherwise, I fear the secrets contained within it will remain so. Can you take me to your father? Surely, he could help me with this great problem?”

[Velarian Zantedeschia]

NotesMy bad I thought I had corrected that ages ago. Seems I have a ruckus somewhere. Lets stick with what we have right now, I will try to clear this up. Sorry!

Pale fingers touched his cheeks and instinctively the man wanted to step back, regain the personal space the young woman had so carelessly invaded. He did not, in the end. Instead the corner of his mouth lifted into a half amused, half serious smile. In a way he had always admired a certain boldness when approaching others, even when it was not part of his own personality.

"White as an old woman's braids, black like a moonless night and every shade in between," Velarian answered the question regarding hair color with a quiet laugh. "Neither your hair nor your skin would draw particular attention here. Your eyes and hands however would." The young woman was as slender as any of their ilk, yet every Symenestra knew how to tell apart a child of their own kin and one sired by a foreign man with one of their women. The offspring from such bonding was not well liked within the underground city. Usually.

When the girl stepped away, the man tilt his head to the side, eyes shining with quiet delight. "Welcome to Kalinor then, Dra-miana of no Web," he said with a little bow, a gesture which might have been called mocking had such jibe not seemed below the tall man. "Truth been told some of our homes do not have roofs in the sense human houses have them," he admit. "You will see them better once you entered the city proper."

Hanging from the ceiling and without the chance it would ever rain on them, buildings were constructed very differently than the homes of other races. Some structures could be best described as cocoons and in general architecture knew many curved lines, was organic and weightless, elegant and delicate. Fabric was most everywhere. A second it seemed the man would dwell on the subject, but then Dra-Miana's words caught his attention.

"You have been looking for me?"

It would have been an understatement to say Velarian was surprised by her assertion. Still, the younger woman seemed serious. For a moment the Animator used the new found distance between them to study the half-breed. Not for the first time he looked at the chain wrapped around her body. It did not seem like the sort of bond one might use to shackle slaves with. He decided to ask about it later. For now he made a step forward to look at the book offered to him. A long moment he was silent, reading an listening.

When he stepped back a moment later, his expression was serious, the smile faded. "I am not sure if I can help you. My father – he passed away some years ago." Ruby eyes darted to the heavy tome, thoughtful. "Eventually I could instill life on the book, but you would need to tell me what you want me to do exactly. I also have not reached my father's mastery of the art yet, so I am not sure I will be able to do what's needed."

Above their heads the sound of rustling fabric could be heard and Velarian knew the guard of the woven gate was about to climb down his rope to see who had come to enter the city. The man turned towards the girl again. "If you like, we can talk about it some more, but we might better do it at my home. It is easier talking there."

[Veldrys]

The halfblood seemed to be unfamiliar with the Symenestra, surprised by Velarian’s very appearance. To the healer that seemed strange. How could it be that silver hair and red eyes draw such a reaction from her? Halfbloods like her had a Symenestra mother, and their mothers usually survived the birth. She should have seen at least one Symenestra in her life. And yet she was hesitant. He came a bit closer, moving silently from rock to rock, aware that his behaviour, that the fact that he was spying on them would likely be met with disapproval. But he had never been one to approach complete strangers openly, and people of mixed blood always made him a little wary. She seemed nervous, clumsy, which wasn’t unusual in these surroundings. As she produced the book and handed him the letter, the young healer cocked his head a little to the side, as if he were confused. For a moment it seemed to him as if he had heard the word „help“. What did she need the animator’s help for? And that chain. Was she a slave that had escaped from the surface and hoped to get help here? He made another step forward, walked in their direction, seemingly casually, as if he had climbed down together with the guard, as if he had just come from the city above their heads and not been here for a while. "Velarian." He inclined his head in a greeting. His voice was, as it most often was, calm as he looked upon the two, the slight dislike for Dramiana’s kind hidden behind a mask of politeness and a gentle smile. He cast a brief glance at her, furrowing his brow a little, before he focused upon the other man. "I could not help but notice the two of you. I’ve seen few of mixed blood in recent times. Is this woman known to you?"

[Dramiana Rosenthal]

After her balmy fingers faintly touched Valerian, she moved them to her own eyelids in confusion. “My eyes. My hands. I knew not of a difference,” her voice trailed off, barely audible, as if she were thinking aloud and wasn't aware. When Valerian gave the little bow, she gave one also with a wide sweep of her left arm. The gesture was melodramatically graceful, accentuated by a fine curtain of masterly chain, thinly woven but strong. There was some hint at its craftsmanship by the fact that she held no pockets in her clothing, hinting that she had spent her life’s fortune on it. Though there was nothing stated, the token of gratitude was obvious. “The city proper?” she asked softly, worried. “I don’t think I can climb like you can…” But Dra-miana was easily distracted, and able to throw her worry away quickly for a spectacle or secret point of delight. Therefore, as he spoke, the summoner went to turning her eyes aloft, the bright amethyst irises kindling while her pupils dilated. “Beautiful…” declared Mia, her long hair falling past her waist in wild, untameable waves. The outcast must've been hypnotized by Kalinor, itself. Meanwhile, Valerian continued divulging information about the extent of his powers; still, the young woman was distracted by the architecture of the city like someone watching a fairytale come to life. And for her, Kalinor and its Symanestra might well have been fairytales - having only been told of a land suspended by fabric and lattice-work in the ancient pages of a mother’s diary. Perhaps the ignorance could be exchanged for wonder. Suddenly, the sound of movement! Keeping to her reclusive nature, Damiana moved behind Valerian and hid behind his lithe frame – alarmingly skilled at how quiet she could keep that fetter of hers should her life depend on it. “Yes, let’s go somewhere more quiet and dark.” "Velarian." He inclined his head in a greeting. His voice was, as it most often was, calm as he looked upon the two, the slight dislike for Dramiana’s kind hidden behind a mask of politeness and a gentle smile. He cast a brief glance at her, furrowing his brow a little, before he focused upon the other man. "I could not help but notice the two of you. I’ve seen few of mixed blood in recent times. Is this woman known to you?" Bright violet eyes suddenly changed their gaze, and the wide pupils settled on the bridge of Veldrys’ nose. Fear was easily read by the gentle grip tightening on Valerian’s shirt. “You must believe me,” she whispered breathlessly to Valerian, knowing full and well that her Gnosis mark had the strangest effect on those with little faith. “I’ve no reason to lie.”

[Velarian Zantedeschia]

"The fire you lit was a signal for the guards." The man nodded towards the flames by their side, coiling green and golden. "One will come down and see what's going on. Then they will let a basket down to lift you up." At least they will do so once they are sure you are harmless, the animator thought by himself, certain the Ochya would find no reason to deny the woman entrance to the city. Halfbreed or not, woman were always welcome to the underground city and here not only to its male inhabitants.

Ruby eyes shifted from the flames towards Dra-miana. "I could carry you too, if you preferred, but riding in the basket might be more comfortable."

It would not be the first time for him to scale the cavern walls with an living attachment clinging to his back and while he was certain that the risk would be a minimal one, it was an exhausting experience still. The sound of feet on stone let him turn, wary. He did not know who might have followed the girl and was surprised to see Veldrys step into the fire's bright blow.

"Veldrys."

Absently Velarian noticed the young woman slip behind him, felt her tuck at his shirt. Like a child hiding behind her mother's skirt from a stranger, Dra-miana seemed worried about the healer. The older man could not have said why. Instead he nodded his greeting to the approaching man, then shook his head. "I did not know her until mere minutes ago." And since she had made no note of her web it was hard for him to tell if she had family left in Kalinor. "She does seem to know a bit about me however," he added with an amused smirk, the expression masking his curiosity, his concern.

He had not been aware his father had worked on projects not dealing with toys and other playthings – and those rare few the old man had worked on, he had believed to know. It was an uncomfortable feeling to realize there existed things about his father he had not heard of, had not read about in his mentor's jottings.

The whisper in his back let him glance over his shoulder. "Lie about what?," he asked softly, not quite sure what part of their conversation the girl was referring to. All of it? A certain assertion? It seemed a rare chance she could have picked the name of one of the few animators Kalinor had seen in recent years.

"But I forget my manners. Dra-miana, this is Veldrys a healer who was so kind to patch up my son some days ago. And the young woman in my back is Dra-miana, a visitor to our fair city." Again he looked up and this time he already believed to see the slender frame of a guard descending down the woven gate.

His attention turned back to the medic, studying the young man. "Are you coming home or leaving?," Velarian asked with a nod towards the cave entrance.

[Dramiana Rosenthal]

Mia did not wish to entertain the idea of “guards” at all, and rather clung more tightly to Valerian. “Nay,” she whispered softly. “I will go with you, should you wish to share my burden.” While women were welcome in Kalinor, half-breeds were not – especially those born of a human father and Symanestran mother. She had often heard tales of certain sects and webs needing to flee in lieu of the harvest. "Veldrys." “…there are few who believe my words. When they leave my mouth, they instil doubt into the weak-willed,” replied she, whispering again, her large eyes never compromising their stare even when a slight nod was given to the other Symanestra. “A healer? It is an honor to meet you. The gentle hands of a healer can change an entire world. I do hope you will excel from the rudiments and become a master at your craft. There are many whom need you.” Now very anxious, Damiana actually began to slip her arms around Valerian’s waste, careful to keep her fetter from obstructing him. “I’m ready. Let’s go now. I will be sure to repay you in kind favour soon.”

[Veldrys]

He watched as the halfblood hid behind Velarian. Was she afraid? As far as he was concerned, she had more than enough reason. People like her did not belong here. They were neither Symenestra nor Human, not really part of any race. They were half this and half that, incomplete, forever unable to realize the potential they would have had if their parents had been of the same race. And yet her reaction puzzled him. Did he look that threatening to her? He was barely out of his teens, slender, fragile, pretty to the eyes of somebody who had likely never seen one of his kind. She seemed paranoid. So Velarian didn’t know her – or claimed not to. But she, whose every action hinted at unfamiliarity with the Symenestra and their ways, seemed to know him. It didn’t make any sense to him. He would have to watch her. "Dramiana", he repeated her name and inclined his head in a greeting. He was less than enthusiastic about the appearance of a halfbreed in his city, but he didn’t show it. Being impolite, being rude and making his suspicions obvious was, as far as he was concerned, not acceptable. Good manners were of the utmost importance, even when the other one’s blood was obviously tainted. "I’m pleased to meet you. I can only hope that I will indeed master my trade and be able to help those that are in need." He looked up, towards the woven gate, where he thought he could already see a guard before he turned to answer Velarian’s question, "I was just about to return to Kalinor." It was a lie, and the guard would likely think it strange that he came back a few minutes after leaving, but at the moment he was more interested in the halfblood than spending an hour or two practicing his magic. "I will go up after you." He made a step aside, as if to underline his words and waited.