[Windward Boardwalk] Magic Is: [Coren]

[Belgar]

75 Summer, 511

As of late, Belgar wandered around holds instead of within them, spent more time in the wilderness between than in the company of humans. The solitary Kelvic had not necessarily grown fond of solitude; he would choose a good conversation over a walk through his own thoughts any day, but it was easier to just keep walking. There were fewer obstacles, fewer courtesies, fewer tied tongues. And without her to encourage him, he had begun to choose the easy option where ever it presented itself.

It was during one of these easy tours of the city that he found the trees seemed to have taken formation. By the time he realized that they had been planted deliberately by a gardener’s aesthetic, Belgar was already well within the Boardwalk. He raised his head and removed a pair of ungloved hands from the pockets of his coat. He had not been walking on the designated trail, so he hastily moved to the nearest, kicking snow into a small clearing where the path branched into four. The airy white flakes clung to the foot of a statue at the clearing’s center. When Belgar looked up at it, he started.

The piece was carved of black stone, a peculiar choice for the otherwise cheery environment. It depicted two figures, male and female, entwined in a rapid, electric dance: her hair and long skirt seemed to flail from her body and wrap around her partner, who leaned over her with undeniable passion and power. The naïve half-beast could have sworn they were moving before he glimpsed them, and would resume their dance at any moment. That their faces could seem so real, their moment so sincere, was beyond the depth of his floundering imagination. It could not be a mere carving. No one could peel out such a vivid, living thing from something so... tangible.

Only one thing could and did tear Belgar from his baffled reverie. A densely packed mound of snow suddenly collided with the side of his shoulder and exploded in a fit of cold powder. His hands became fists, but he did not raised his arms even to brush away the ice from his clothes. More than perturbed at the interruption, he turned towards the invisible source of the assault and sniffed the air. A human. Vantha. Where he might have otherwise been angry, his tone settled into mere impatience. “Who is there?” He bellowed.

[Coren]

Coren kept looking over his shoulder as he made his way through the park, keeping close to the many hedges and trees for cover, doing whatever he could to make sure to lose any potential pursuers. Though if there where any of them they did a pretty good job at concealing themselves and to not stand out in the crowd, unlike himself who already had drew quite a few confused stares and muffled snickers at his weird behavior, but he didn't care about that. He just wanted to be completely sure nobody was following him or could accidentally stumble on him while he was practicing with his magic. Words could spread like fire in a haystack in avanthal and he would rather castrate himself then let that happen. As coren sneaked, or do a rather pathetic attempt of it, towards the less visited parts of the boardwalk he let himself relax a bit, decreasing the amount of times he looked over his shoulder with paranoia visible in his eyes and not paying to much attention to whoever could be following him, I mean if he didn't see anybody following him as he was walking through those empty path's there where no people following him. A small smile spread over his masked face as he came towards a small clearing with four path's branching off it. That smile slid of his face when he noticed the black sculpture proudly being displayed in the middle of the clearing however. He would have recognized that one everywhere, it was one of his father's more recent works and he hated it with a burning passion just because of that. Just as he was about to turn around and find another place to practice, one that didn't remind him to things he didn't like dwell on, he got a terribly amusing idea. He was planning to train his projection by throwing snowballs at something anyway, so why not use that petching statue as a target? A mischievous grin on his face he sat down on the ground and took one more look around the place to make sure there where no unwanted onlookers before he closed his eyes and tried to calm his mind, before carefully guiding his djed towards the shoulder of his right arm, slow and steady starting to push out his astral body from there, taking his time to do it properly he worked down to the tips of his fingers. Ignoring the rather discomforting feeling of feeling nothing at all that slowly spread over his arm, when he didn't feel his arm at all anymore he opened his eyes and moved his projected right hand through the snow, scooping up a bunch of snow with it before he stood up using both his projected limb and his left hand to press it together into a snowball. With an exited grin on his face as he finished his snowball he took another look at his target and threw it as hard as he could at the petching statue... missing at least by a few foot, which by itself wasn't to much of a problem he could just try again, the real problem was that a six foot tall man suddenly walked into the clearing and stopped to admire the statue and got hit by the snowball he threw only a few moments ago. Quickly deciding that he didn't want to get the flak for that he tried to dive behind one of the hedges... Only to come up a few foot short and not only land face first into the snow, he could have lived with that, but also was easily spotted by the larger man. Coren let out an embarassed chuckle as he pushed himself back on his feet, his limp right arm uselessly hanging next to his torso. “Ehm... Sorry?”

[Belgar]

Belgar might have seemed a right statue, the way he looked at the floundering man that emerged from behind the trees. But he was still and straight and stoic, not the fluid and beautiful figure that moved at the same time as it did not. His fists loosened, but his fingers were still stiff as the stranger rose. Confusion tinged the middle of his flat brow; his head tilted in silent question. Then a peculiar smell found him and his nostrils flared. The air had smelled like it did now, when—

The Kelvic, as tall and imposing as he was, stepped back. “You do not... it’s fine. Only snow.” He tried to soften his face to something forgiving, but caution had made him tense. No smile, nor any other outward emotion, bent his flat lips. He glanced around to look for a possible target for the snowball, but before he found one, his eyes settled on the statue again. It distracted him from his raised guard instantly, and adoration made his black eyes linger on it. Like a good conversationalist, he opened his mouth to mention it; he could not know what associations this stranger had with its creator. But before he spoke, a more important thought suddenly occurred to him. He paused, then a breath of laughter whitened in front of his hanging mouth. “Why were you throwing snow?”

The brief smile straightened as he turned to look at the Vantha again. Only then did he noticed how his arm hung limp at his side. He stepped forward again, filling the old footprint of his previous stance. Concern weighted his tongue as he observed, “You’re hurt.”

[Coren]

Coren shifted a bit uncomfortably as he refused to meet the man's gaze, choosing to instead look at the snow at his feet. Scratching behind his head in embarasment, why the heck did things like this always happen to him? Was he the chewtoy of kelwyn siblings or something? A look of confusion came over his face as the tall and imposing man stepped back and told him it was fine, it was only snow after all. Letting out a small breath of relief he looked up from the ground and looked at the big man. “Its still a bit embarrassing though.” Coren said in relief. “I mean its typical this happens to me and not some other vantha.” When the man asked why he was throwing snow at all, coren shrugged, ignoring the laughter. “I got some issues with the creator of the sculpture, so even though it was a bit childish I wanted to take out some of my anger on the statue.” Coren stated in a bit of an embarrassed tone hoping that the man didn't take offense to the statement or knew his dad for some reason and put one and two together and confronted him with it, or worse report back to his dad. He didn't doubt spring would come to avanthal before he would stop hearing about this if his parents got wind of this. When the man suddenly took a step forward and voiced a bit of concern about his limp arm coren's eyes went wide in shock and he took a step back in fear, twisting his body so that his limp arm was facing away from the tall man, and grabbed the arm with his left hand. “NO!. I mean no, I'm not hurt at all,” coren instinctively held his projected limb right in front of him, ready to lash out with a punch or slap. That reaction only lasted for a few moments after that however as he quickly forced himself to relax and lower his projected limb. “It.. well this happens occasionally to me, something I was born with.” Coren quickly began attempting to justify his reaction. “And whenever somebody I don't know notices it they become insistent that I visit the whitevine hold and get it looked at, or if they know something about medicine themselves they begin to poke and prod it themselves. Its annoying as petch if that happens your entire life.” Coren just gave the man a friendly look, well as friendly he could look with half his face covered up, and hoped he bought his bullshit story.

[Belgar]

If Belgar were a lesser man, he might have stepped back again when confronted with the stranger’s sudden refusal. His arms tensed and alarm cocked his head, but otherwise he stood his ground. He softened easily as the man explained himself. He was standing strangely, but how exactly Belgar could not say. Caution remained beneath the necessity to be courteous.

“Anger?” Belgar repeated, confused. His eyes were drawn to the statue again, like a hare to warmth. There had been some other question on his tongue, a curiosity as to the nature of the relationship between this man and the absent carver, but the Kelvic forgot what he meant to say when he saw it again. “It is beautiful,” he admitted, then realized that the Vantha probably did not think so. So he forced himself to look away and found his eyes on the snow in front of his feet. “Whoever offended you... they are talented, at least.” He lifted his eyes to face him again.

A hasty smile changed the subject. It flickered on and off of his face unnaturally, a polite obligation more than a true sentiment. “I hope I did not offend you. I cannot assume anything; I am no doctor.” A wary instinct had settled in the pit of his gut, fed by the peculiar scent that persisted around the poor limp-armed man. As he had learned to do in his life among humans, Belgar ignored it. It was more important to be civil; even if his instinct was right, it would be ill-mannered to say so. On that note, the Kelvic suddenly remembered another of his neglected manners. “I am Belgar,” he mentioned, then belatedly offered his hand as soon as he remembered he should.

[Coren]

Coren visibly relaxed as the man's posture softened as he was explaining why he burst out in anger so suddenly, it seemed his hastily made up cover story was believable enough to fool at first glance at least. Now he just hoped the man wasn't going to look deeper into it. Carefully putting his right hand into the pocket of his robe, trying to prevent it from swinging around and possibly damaging it. “Well, its a nice statue and I can't deny the man has talent” Coren freely admitted, clearly showing that he wasn't jealous for the talent his father had in carving. “To bad he can't get the clue I don't even have close to the same drive, talent or interest for the art he has though. Would make my life a lot easier.” The unnatural and hasty smile that was used to change the subject back to his arm was completely lost on Coren, who was more trying to figure out how to let the man leave or at least distract him long enough to carefully put his astral body back where it belonged, he was slowly wasting djed right now, and he honestly didn't find that a very safe idea. Coren gave the man a shrug as he apologized for his concern. “Apology accepted. At least you stopped talking about it and didn't continue nagging me about it.” Coren said in a cheerful voice as he grabbed Belgar's outstretched right hand with his left one. Making the handshake a bit more awkward as normal. “My name is Coren skyglow. What hold are you from?”

[Belgar]

Belgar could not think fast enough to change his greeting to his left hand. He grabbed the back of Coren’s awkwardly and squeezed it as gently as his strong hands could manage. He should have realized that the Vantha would have to use his other hand. He should have been more observant, more respectful. She would have been ashamed. Preoccupied with his faux pas, it took a moment for Belgar to realize that a question had accompanied the introduction. He laughed, a combination of nervousness and amusement, then responded, “Icewatch.

“...But I lived in Skyglow, for a time. Between rounds. With...” The name still felt thick on his tongue. He choked on it and stuttered. “Se- Seisswyn.” He should have asked if he knew her. That would have been the natural flow of conversation, he thought, and he had studied conversation carefully throughout his life. But he did not want to talk about her. He glanced away from the man’s face and his eyes instinctively fell to his arm. Recognizing the discourtesy, he hastily moved his eyes to look at the statue again. It was all there was left.

“Why don’t you want to be an artist?” He asked idly, the affect in the interest painfully apparent on his tone. “Many Skyglows are very happy with it. I might become a carver, if I could... Oh. But... each man has the right to choose his path. What would you do instead? Do you live at another hold?”

[Coren]

Coren was too preoccupied with trying to find a way to distract belgar that he completely missed the short moment of self chastising before he answered his question. Coren blinked in surprise at belgar's answer. Did he just answered icewatch when he asked what hold he was? And why was he talking about having been belonged to skyglow like that? As far as he knew nobody had been thrown out of the hold in ages. “Well I don't know her.” Coren said in an awkward tone as belgar revealed with who he lived. Shifting a bit in the rather uncomfortable atmosphere and shifting a bit on his feet. Waiting till belgar would answer him on that. While belgiar pulled his gaze away from him and back to the statue, coren moved his projected arm over his limp arm again and slowly pressed his projected fingertips back into their respective part of his body. The slightly tired feeling coming from his arm slightly beginning to scare him. When belgar suddenly asked why he didn't want to be an artist coren stopped with slowly guiding his projected bodypart back into his arm and just shrugged. Or at least tried to since one of his shoulders was limp. “Well I never had much talent for it in the first place. Nor did I really like art in the first place and I never was very good with putting effort in things I didn't like.” Coren said plainly. “My father didn't agree with that though and he kept pressuring me to follow into his footsteps and still is pressuring me for that. And no, I am not living with another hold and for the moment I'm working in the library as a clerk.”

[Belgar]

Belgar did not know whether to be insulted or relieved that Coren did not recognize the name of one of the greatest women to ever call herself Skyglow. Either way, he was glad not to push the subject. “That’s... understandable,” he replied to the man’s opinion of his Hold’s favored trade, unsure of how else to comment on the trouble of human families. He did not know his father and would not have recognized his mother if he saw her; keeping in touch was not their way.

Belgar found himself growing restless. Whatever remained of the offending snowball on his sleeve had long melted and dried, no match for the warmth of his Morwen-marked body. And as much as he valued conversation, he easily grew weary of the effort it required. His feet squirmed in his shoes like padding paws and his eyes darted away from where he caught them staring at Coren’s arm.

“A clerk. It is a respectable commission.” Belgar continued idly, though he did not know what the life of a clerk was like. His jaw was stiff. “Would you say... clerking is your greater passion then? Is—” No, of course he did not enjoy clerking, whatever that was. That job was one for those who could find no other, or at least those with more pressing hobbies. Belgar was glad he did not say that out loud. Instead, he looked back at the conspicuously hanging limb at Coren’sside. His nostrils flared with that same peculiar smell, which he recognized but could not name.

Then his tongue was moving before he realized what he was saying. “Are you certain that you are well? Would you not rather recover in the warmth of some Hold? It does not have to be Skyglow. I can take you there.” He stepped forward suddenly, eager to be of help. Assuming the Vantha knew what we was, his hands rose to the topmost button of his coat: a suggestion that he could strip and shift, if the citizen of Avanthal preferred it.

[Coren]

Coren just nodded at belgar's answer, failing to notice the restlessness that was slowly creeping into the man before him.But he did catch the way belgar suddenly cut of his sentence, causing him to narrow his eyes at the man slightly in annoyance. Why did people always start to say something and then just leave the sentence hanging in the middle of it? He just let out an annoyed sigh and restrained the urge on calling belgar out on it. He didn't want to anger that giant of a man. “Well I wouldn't call it my greater passion, though the job isn't half as bad as I thought it would be at first though.” Coren started to explain, a bit of his earlier irritation still audible in his voice. “Its boring most of the part, but there are a lot of interesting books in the building that I can read or use the silence of the place to study something interesting.” As belgar once again asked if he was okay Coren fixed a glare on him. “Like I told you before. Yes I am completely all right.” He said in an annoyed voice. “I don't need to be escorted towards any hold like a small child. I'm twenty-four winters old for morwen's sake.” Coren's said in a slow and highly offended tone.