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( OUTSIDE / ENTERING - IORVETH )
[ The journey from the land of Iorveth's fellows, somewhat abandoned in the wake of his two allies having left, seems near pointless. They each know why she stands at his side and it is not for his company nor his friendship; the ever present pull of his shard against her body is enough to make her want to move closer, to sink her fingers into his chest and drag out the shimmering power so that she can use it, claim it for her own.
It's not so easy, however, even as she settles and considers what the future may hold for them.
They travel back towards Treun, now, towards the population, and her nerves are alight with it. She knows how people react to her, to the colour of her hands and the scars around her ears, the darkness that seems to follow her like an unruly shadow. She moves back, hesitant as she walks behind Iorveth but unwilling to let him see her weakness; it's been weeks, now, that they have travelled together, but that does not mean there is any trust for them to share. They work together because it benefits them both, not because they see one another as friend.
She wants to Turn, but she is on edge, tired, and dares not. Wolves are hunted as much as witches. ]
Edited 2015-03-02 14:44 (UTC)
( ELIZABETH OF YORK )
[ There is a promise that hangs on Lauralae's hands, a reminder of things that she had said months before. A whisper of power she had never had before, latent power that settles in her chest, beyond the call of blood and the power that it offers - something that won't need her life essence to protect her, that won't need her to turn into a wolf in order to survive.
It had come to her at a party, flashes of which settle on Lauralae's mind. The reminder of a handsome woman, a charming young lady (human, of course, which still settles awkwardly on her shoulders, makes her travelling companion bristle and froth with anger) that made her feel somewhat charmed for a bare hour. It had been some time and the weight still settles on her, confusing her, and she ignores it as she waits.
Letters were all they had - she knows she needs to find an alternate means of talking to people, especially if she means to keep her eyes on Iorveth and his shard - but for now they do. She waits, curled in the darkness of the trees, hovering as she watches. Her lady is meant to stop by soon, for them to walk south together for a time, for Lauralae to travel with her until she has picked up the magic that everyone in this world knows.
In return? More power for her. ]
( Months have come and gone since she met the young Aellyn and heard her whisper of a dark form of magic. It had struck her at the time as full of potential to be of incredible use, especially for medical purposes. Were there not a positive to balance the destructiveness of it, she would never have agreed to learn it. Yet she has, because her drive to never again be so completely at the mercy of another demands it just as much as does her compassionate nature.
In any case, she has been looking forward to reuniting with Lauralae for a long time. Because in this elf, she has found a dear friend. The contents of their letters sent back and forth via raven tell her that well-enough, and her heart warms while she gently knees Llŷr, the Ceffyl Dwr gifted to her by Dorian Gray over a year past. They descend through the clouds together, as though borne from the mist itself (he certainly was), and she keeps a sharp eye out for her friend while marvelling silently at the beauty of the scenery spread out below them.
The woods, just to the North of Mair. They had agreed to meet here, and this is where she settles Llŷr, his hooves patting softly in the dirt when he lands. Once he is stationary, Elizabeth dismounts, and glances back at him with a warm smile. )
Come with me. ( She says simply, and moves into the trees, knowing full-well that Lauralae does not tarry upon the open road. )
It is safe, my friend. The way is clear.
( Just in case she's within earshot. In fact, she assumes that she is. )
In any case, she has been looking forward to reuniting with Lauralae for a long time. Because in this elf, she has found a dear friend. The contents of their letters sent back and forth via raven tell her that well-enough, and her heart warms while she gently knees Llŷr, the Ceffyl Dwr gifted to her by Dorian Gray over a year past. They descend through the clouds together, as though borne from the mist itself (he certainly was), and she keeps a sharp eye out for her friend while marvelling silently at the beauty of the scenery spread out below them.
The woods, just to the North of Mair. They had agreed to meet here, and this is where she settles Llŷr, his hooves patting softly in the dirt when he lands. Once he is stationary, Elizabeth dismounts, and glances back at him with a warm smile. )
Come with me. ( She says simply, and moves into the trees, knowing full-well that Lauralae does not tarry upon the open road. )
It is safe, my friend. The way is clear.
( Just in case she's within earshot. In fact, she assumes that she is. )
[ The friendship that has budded between the two of them, like a flower that needs special care and attention for it to grow and flourish, to be nurtured or it would wilt and die far too quickly. Lauralae's concern with it would not be so important to her were it not for the strange kindness this woman had showed her, the way that it lights her insides and confuses her -- the last person that had been so kind and tender to her had died from her own mistakes, had died because she had felt foolish enough to love, and she is uneasy as she watches the lady approach.
A beast of magic, she notes, and she's curious about it for all that she pretends to ignore it. It's far too easy to walk forward and greet Elizabeth, to nod her head and watch her with a calm concern that might not be present with anyone else. Iorveth has seen it, of course, her constant companion in the months that have gone bye, the man who now carries her shard of blood granite for her (trust, she thinks, comes in strange forms in this world) but it is foreign to human eyes.
She says nothing, at first, simply follows the other woman into the depths of the trees, relaxing as the darkness and the forestry cocoons around her like a blanket of protection. In the trees she is a predator, her pace slow and steady as she steps through, head held high. She has lived in forests such as these, hunted for her own food and survived from it and nothing else; she is more at home here than she has been in her house. ]
I would not be standing so idly if it were not safe, lady.
[ It's almost derisive, really, and she halts her words before more comes out. Instead, she walks forward, a few paces faster to catch up, and squeezes her hands tight. Calm is important, especially when this woman is trying to be so kind (but for what reason? Why? Other than her magic, what does she have to offer?) ]
We should find a quiet space.
A beast of magic, she notes, and she's curious about it for all that she pretends to ignore it. It's far too easy to walk forward and greet Elizabeth, to nod her head and watch her with a calm concern that might not be present with anyone else. Iorveth has seen it, of course, her constant companion in the months that have gone bye, the man who now carries her shard of blood granite for her (trust, she thinks, comes in strange forms in this world) but it is foreign to human eyes.
She says nothing, at first, simply follows the other woman into the depths of the trees, relaxing as the darkness and the forestry cocoons around her like a blanket of protection. In the trees she is a predator, her pace slow and steady as she steps through, head held high. She has lived in forests such as these, hunted for her own food and survived from it and nothing else; she is more at home here than she has been in her house. ]
I would not be standing so idly if it were not safe, lady.
[ It's almost derisive, really, and she halts her words before more comes out. Instead, she walks forward, a few paces faster to catch up, and squeezes her hands tight. Calm is important, especially when this woman is trying to be so kind (but for what reason? Why? Other than her magic, what does she have to offer?) ]
We should find a quiet space.
( This is a most delicate bond, one which Elizabeth has sought every opportunity to nurture, just like a flower transplanted into new soil. The sun and water are replaced by letters and kind words, smiles and time spent together. Admittedly, the lattermost of those has been difficult to arrange, due to Lauralae's nomadic lifestyle. But somehow they are managing together to make this work, and this connection forming between them is beginning to blossom. This young woman is one whom has known little kindness, at least of late. Much as had been the case for Elizabeth with the exception of Richard, before she had been sent here.
To be warm and tender toward Lauralae, then is second-nature to her. As easy for her as it is to breathe. Llŷr tosses his head, sending a rain of water droplets shimmering through the air. Gently, she pats his neck and whispers to him soft words of encouragement in order to soothe him. Once it seems to work, she turns her head to look sidelong at her friend for a long moment before fixing her gaze back on the road.
Silence reigns for a long time, in which Elizabeth finds herself enormously at ease. Comfortable, she walks with an easy, graceful gait, slow and steady to match her friend's pace. Her bearing, as always is regal and proud, which means a straight posture, and her head held as high as is Lauralae's. When the Aellyn finally speaks, she laughs softly. )
True enough. I have need of lessons in how to survive in the wilderness without company, I suspect.
( The humour is self-deprecating, but kept light and airy. Her smile comes more easily and holds more warmth than it has in months. Time truly is healing her wounds from earlier in the past year. Llŷr follows close at their heels, as though he prefers to keep close to Elizabeth. )
Then I shall follow wherever you lead. ( Her features soften. ) You look very well, indeed. I am glad of it.
To be warm and tender toward Lauralae, then is second-nature to her. As easy for her as it is to breathe. Llŷr tosses his head, sending a rain of water droplets shimmering through the air. Gently, she pats his neck and whispers to him soft words of encouragement in order to soothe him. Once it seems to work, she turns her head to look sidelong at her friend for a long moment before fixing her gaze back on the road.
Silence reigns for a long time, in which Elizabeth finds herself enormously at ease. Comfortable, she walks with an easy, graceful gait, slow and steady to match her friend's pace. Her bearing, as always is regal and proud, which means a straight posture, and her head held as high as is Lauralae's. When the Aellyn finally speaks, she laughs softly. )
True enough. I have need of lessons in how to survive in the wilderness without company, I suspect.
( The humour is self-deprecating, but kept light and airy. Her smile comes more easily and holds more warmth than it has in months. Time truly is healing her wounds from earlier in the past year. Llŷr follows close at their heels, as though he prefers to keep close to Elizabeth. )
Then I shall follow wherever you lead. ( Her features soften. ) You look very well, indeed. I am glad of it.
He's down to the last handful of shardbearers that he needs to find. There's only a few that have refused any and all summons and hidden themselves away in the far corners of the Drabwurld and he's here, in this forest looking for one of them. The name on his list is Sumsi Punu and from what he's been able to gather from others who knew him, he's likely been turned into an animal of some sort. (Again.)
The last time it happened, he'd spent almost a decade as a fisher and Harry decides that's reason enough to look about where fishers might be found. He's no animal tracker, but over the past few months, he and Linn have worked out various ways to help guide a shardbearer towards other magic users. It doesn't always lead to a shardbearer, but it generally points him in a direction, if not the right one. Overhead on his broom, he spots a wolf and a rabbit in a clearing and as he descends, he hopes that it's the wolf he'd been coming to talk to.
The last time it happened, he'd spent almost a decade as a fisher and Harry decides that's reason enough to look about where fishers might be found. He's no animal tracker, but over the past few months, he and Linn have worked out various ways to help guide a shardbearer towards other magic users. It doesn't always lead to a shardbearer, but it generally points him in a direction, if not the right one. Overhead on his broom, he spots a wolf and a rabbit in a clearing and as he descends, he hopes that it's the wolf he'd been coming to talk to.
Edited (html!) 2015-03-01 02:27 (UTC)
The night is dark around her as she stalks through the forest, eyes flicking here and there as she hunts; food is not as important as it once was, not in the way it might be for others, but if she doesn't feed herself, her magic, then it twists inside of her and becomes something worse, sapping the life out of her body and using it against her. It's better to hunt and eat, even if she has to do it raw, often, than it is to ignore the urges that overcome her.
Her teeth have just snapped around the neck of a hare when she feels the pulse of shard magic, her head lifting as she lowers her ears. It's not Iorveth, that she can tell, and she takes a few cautious steps backwards as she regards him. If he approaches she might well have to turn back to herself - already she can feel the exhaustion coiling around her - but she has the upper hand like this, freer and with no consequences for attacking other people.
Who can blame a wolf for instinct, after all?
Her teeth have just snapped around the neck of a hare when she feels the pulse of shard magic, her head lifting as she lowers her ears. It's not Iorveth, that she can tell, and she takes a few cautious steps backwards as she regards him. If he approaches she might well have to turn back to herself - already she can feel the exhaustion coiling around her - but she has the upper hand like this, freer and with no consequences for attacking other people.
Who can blame a wolf for instinct, after all?
He's fairly sure that the wolf is sentient and after briefly berating himself for what is bound to be yet another Very Bad Idea, he flies down low to the ground and hops off his broom. Carefully, he puts it down on the ground and shows that his hands are empty.
"I don't want to be a bother, but I'm looking for Sumsi Punu and I've been told he might be in these parts. Likely as a fisher cat or maybe a marten?"
"I don't want to be a bother, but I'm looking for Sumsi Punu and I've been told he might be in these parts. Likely as a fisher cat or maybe a marten?"
She pauses, for a long moment, examining him, before she tilts her head. With a nasty snap, letting her teeth sink in to the flesh before she twists and drops it to one side. Her snout is bloody, now, her jowls matted, and she takes a step back to sit. Watching Harry for a long moment she pauses, wondering how this man thought a wolf might respond to him, before she breathes out sharply, darting into the forests to the left.
There, she transforms, not willing to let a stranger see what she becomes; the elven creature that is her natural form. She moves out, making a soft whistle, as if she had called the wolf to her side, moving forward to bend and pick up the dead hare.
"I have not heard the name," is all she says at first, her eyes exploring Harry's face and turning to look at his broom before she lifts her head, acting as superior as she dares. "And I doubt trying to converse with beasts of nature will help your cause."
There, she transforms, not willing to let a stranger see what she becomes; the elven creature that is her natural form. She moves out, making a soft whistle, as if she had called the wolf to her side, moving forward to bend and pick up the dead hare.
"I have not heard the name," is all she says at first, her eyes exploring Harry's face and turning to look at his broom before she lifts her head, acting as superior as she dares. "And I doubt trying to converse with beasts of nature will help your cause."
A talking wolf would hardly be the strangest thing he's seen in the Drabwurld. (That rather dubious honour goes to the Brucolac and Vol'jin shrieking like toddlers as they splashed about in the ocean during Samhain.)
"Thank you though, and I'm sorry to have bothered your hunting. I hope I haven't disturbed any other game?"
"Thank you though, and I'm sorry to have bothered your hunting. I hope I haven't disturbed any other game?"
"I don't need more." Which is true enough. She's out here from stubbornness - there's only so much she will accept from Iorveth without a growl overtaking her, without him sneering at her, even with their uneasy and developing alliance. She's always keen to prove herself and if that means getting her own food for a few weeks then she will go out of her way to do it, to show him wrong if she can.
Turning her head, Lauralae lifts her hands to pull her hood lower, careful as she watches Harry.
"You are too far from home."
Turning her head, Lauralae lifts her hands to pull her hood lower, careful as she watches Harry.
"You are too far from home."
"Probably, but I can't go back until I find Punu and this is the best place to look." He'll find somewhere out of the way to camp for the night and wait. It might be easier to apparate to somewhere warm and safe, but Harry has learned that he needs to make himself somewhat visible, somewhat vulnerable, for the older, more cautious shardbearers to risk approaching. They all know what he's come for, but they want to get a measure of him before relenting.
[ The bond that's between them is, in Lauralae's eyes, a fleeting, fragile thing. It's like a newborn; small, easily damaged and scared. In truth, she doesn't know how to handle what is developing between them - for all that Elizabeth is kind (and handsome, if she is going to be honest with herself) there is a steel block between them. Lauralae is not the kind to believe that anything between them might last longer than the bond between teacher and student. She knows what it is to be used; it's as clear as daylight.
It doesn't mean she doesn't intend to enjoy it whilst she can, of course. Her eyes cast down, drawing her gloves higher on her hands and securing them before she steps ahead, watching at the ease with which Elizabeth holds herself; it's as though she was born and bred into power, and whilst Lauralae knows nothing of her history she believes it to be likely. She has the gait, she has the power.
The nearest clearing is a few strides to the east and she makes the movement easily, turning her body and barely turning her head back to look at her friend - it's better to say ally, she thinks - before she nods, once, sharply. ]
It would be better to learn quickly. You will not survive for long alone if you don't educate yourself, no matter how much power you have.
[ She doesn't pick up on the humour, the tenderness of it lost on her, and she moves to breach the clearing and step through, frowning as her robe is caught on a thorn. She takes the moment it needs to undo herself before she feels her face go a touch pink, staring at Elizabeth before she turns her head away.
Foolishness. ]
I have had nothing to fear. Iorveth is a good companion and a capable warrior and I have more power in one hand than most have in all their body.
It doesn't mean she doesn't intend to enjoy it whilst she can, of course. Her eyes cast down, drawing her gloves higher on her hands and securing them before she steps ahead, watching at the ease with which Elizabeth holds herself; it's as though she was born and bred into power, and whilst Lauralae knows nothing of her history she believes it to be likely. She has the gait, she has the power.
The nearest clearing is a few strides to the east and she makes the movement easily, turning her body and barely turning her head back to look at her friend - it's better to say ally, she thinks - before she nods, once, sharply. ]
It would be better to learn quickly. You will not survive for long alone if you don't educate yourself, no matter how much power you have.
[ She doesn't pick up on the humour, the tenderness of it lost on her, and she moves to breach the clearing and step through, frowning as her robe is caught on a thorn. She takes the moment it needs to undo herself before she feels her face go a touch pink, staring at Elizabeth before she turns her head away.
Foolishness. ]
I have had nothing to fear. Iorveth is a good companion and a capable warrior and I have more power in one hand than most have in all their body.
"You will not have much luck if you continue as you are. Do you think him capable of speaking if he were trapped as you think?" Lauralae watches him with dark, careful eyes, flicking here and there before she shakes her head. "It is too late for you to find anyone, save the people that need not be found. You would do better to find a place to keep yourself safe, mage." She isn't being kind, she is being practical; his travelling will bring more dangers to both herself and Iorveth and she doesn't have the energy to deal with that tonight.
"You're right, of course. I'd just ...well, I'm almost done a very long task and I'd hoped to get that much closer today." Harry shrugs and shaking off the thought, he reaches down to pick up his broom. "If you've a long way back home, I can offer you a lift, but I don't think I can fit your wolf as well."
"One night of rest will not put it off so much. It is better to complete a task with all your energy than give a bare amount to it." Lauralae moves, stepping forward, the light of the moon lighting up her face; she seems gaunt, for the moment, her hands, covered in light gloves, pushing her hair into her hood. "I would not ask for it. The wolf doesn't care for those other than myself."
"In that case, do you know of a good place to rest around here? I'm not much trouble and I can trade for the help." He tugs his own cloak up around his neck and as he fidgets with the clasp, the sense of his shard fades away so that it can't be spotted. "I don't have much to swap, but if you want some bread and dried fruit to go with the rabbit, I'll share what I've got."
"I don't need anything else." She shakes her head; it feels like charity, as if he pities her, and it makes her recoil in frustration. "There is a clearing north of here, by a river. I am sure that would suit you and, if not, a few miles south there is another, one without access to water." Her nose wrinkles as she loses grasp of his shard and she steps closer, her eyes boring into him. "How did you do that?"
"The Queen gave me a boon; it's not a sort of magic I could manage on my own." Harry doesn't really understand how it works, just that it does and he's grateful. Normally he leaves it on, but he thought that leaving his shard visible might help convince Punu to come out of hiding.
"Ah, the Queen and her magic." Lauralae's nose wrinkles, a childish action that goes back to a time when she was with her own people, and she shakes her head. "Their magic is cheating. There is no cost, no adventure in it. A wave of the hand and their will is done." A wave of their hand and, she thinks, she could be cured - but why? What would be the point if she hadn't learned it herself?
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