A Time To Heal. (Closed)

[Daroes Murphy]

Murphy watched as Syllke and Seo walked away he smirked happy that he got some help for his friend. Murphy stretched his arms above his head popping his back for a second and started to walk back to the festivities. The Kelvic walked back to the bar with apple still in hand and took a bite. Murphy re-watched the crowd of all the people as before his friend ran off. He watched as some awkwardly move around the small space while other talked and danced around. Murphy sighed, and studied and looked feverishly for someone to talk to. Then he remembered the brother and sister Kelvic. He moved away from the food table and walked toward the big long table where people sat before. He got to the table and couldn't see the duo around so he pulled out a chair and sat.

"If someone wants to talk I'll sit and they can approach." Murphy muttered not wanting to have to endure an embarrassing introduction. He leaned back just so slightly that the first two legs of his chair weren't touching the ground by mere millimeters. He closed his eyes humming some lute and flute music he had heard earlier the day closing his eyes and almost dosing away into a distant land just keeping an ear in the real world to know what is going on around him.

[Seodai]

There was a deep sort of satisfaction Seodai felt, glancing between Syllke and Lysander. At last Syllke could see what his paltry words had never fully managed to express. Lysander transcended his inartful, meager words anyway. Seodai gave the Vantha fingers he was still holding in his attempt to drag Syllke over a squeeze, and then dropped his hand. "Syllke is an artist," Seo interjected, as if he were proud to have such a skilled friend. He smiled at the dancing colors in his friends eyes, and then turned his gaze aside. First to Talen, hardly noticing how out of place his cousin obviously felt, and then to Lysander. All that gold kept him captive audience, even as that boyish smile twisted those beautiful lips and completely melted Seodai. Again. "And Lysander, apparently, is the master of apple bobbing." Amidst the quiet bubble of laughter that followed, Seodai moved back towards the barrel, directing their little social circle towards the aforementioned activity. His bare forearm brushed Lysander's, brazen fingers daring to tangle within and grip at Lysander's own. To an outsider, it couldn't seem too outlandish. After all, he had dragged Syllke to this point by the hand, too. But it was with muted reverence and abject adoration that he experienced these fingers, so smooth and perfect against the callouses of his own. He turned so that he was walking backwards, grinning at Lysander who, for that brief moment, may as well have been Leth and Syna and Bala and the whole damned pantheon rolled into one. With their joined hands extended between them, Seo quipped a playful challenge. "Dunno if you can keep up with Talen, Lys. He's the champion from way back." There was a general air of ease, of relaxation and pleased distraction about Seodai the likes of which Talen would have never seen. Syllke wouldn't find it entirely foreign, as he had managed to drive Seo to recreation many times in the weeks prior. Syllke, however, likely knew Seo more intimately than anyone else living (barring Theo, who was excluded from the knowledge of Lysander) and would easily be able to read the absolute bliss upon his golden face. Seodai, whose life had always been somewhat difficult, was happy.

[Legion]

Master Jarret chuckled under his breath, shaking his head beneath the fruit flowers of the fading orchard. "Lad, it's nothing more than a shot of degtine, this potion for ugly faces. You give it to the viewer. This, however," and the green bottle was given a little shake. "This is something altogether --" The old physician trailed off at the arrival of the little Vantha girl, blinking at her sharp curiosity and audacity to pester a stranger. "Well isn't that a philosophical question if I've ever heard one," Jarret muttered to himself, amused. He reached for his glass of wine punch while Veldrys was distracted by Hanno, but the motion was aborted midway through. The glass bottle labeled Blood Key exploded in his hand with a miniature pop of light, crumbling pieces of thick glass and spilling a substance that had the consistency of blood but shone silver as the moon reflected in water. Jarret cursed, but the sound was drowned beneath the exclamations of others scattered about the sprawl of the feast. The fiddler and the boy with the hand drum had their eyes closed, swaying in the trance of their music. The lively dance wove abruptly into a new song, but this song had an insidious effect. Every note seemed to crash against the skulls of all the kelvics present, bouncing off their bones and shoving up against the inside of their skin. The music was grabbing at the temperaments of Lucette and Murphy, Galio and Lucy and hauling them toward the predatory, teeth and claw aggression of which all of them were ultimately capable. Everything and everyone was, abruptly, an agitation and annoyance. As Jolan, the fire haired kelvic seagull, shrieked angrily into the face of an old friend and Delano Marx frowned thoughtfully at the back of the fiddler's head, greater lights snapped and sizzled in the torch lit air. These lights were those surrounding Leth's fallen sons. Sitkanis and Lysander, despite the prominence of the moon strung from the floor of heaven, went into unnatural transformation into their day forms.

[Lysander]

“An artist!” Lysander repeated the fact as enthusiastic as Seodai had mentioned it, before letting laughter effervesce and burst out of him as his hand was arrested and he was drawn behind the pull of tanned fingers. They were hard, indicative of a life of tedious field work, but they were warm. Lysander’s gold broke from Seodai’s blues to search for the solemn face of the man who’d been regrettably named after a fabric. “I should like to see some art!”

Then the world was Seodai and he pulled on the fingers that locked with his own, endeavoring to make a dance of their mutual approach to the aforesaid barrel. Clumsy feet caught on grass and dirt and he nearly stumbled, but he managed an awkward hop to maintain his balance. “Who, Seo? Talen? That Talen?” Lysander’s free arm rested across Seodai’s shoulder as he motioned towards the man with a dutiful face, squarer than his cousin’s; while Seodai was as slim as a sword, Talen had the hardened look of a rightful Denvali soldier. As he should, considering what the poor man had gone through. “Then I’ll challenge him first! Champion versus champion, a match to end all matches!” The Ethaefal blathered on as if he’d heard the announcements a thousand times before—unknown to him, he had.

“A fight to the … first apple, no hands, no—” a ruckus in the crowd caught Lysander’s voice in his throat, and no sooner were his eyes allowed to assess the situation did dawn violently and blindingly break. But soon, he realized, that they were not witnessing what very well could have been the shortest night in history. The bold silvery face of the moon still hung amongst its court of stars in the black sky, torchlight still burned bright and orange around them, and Lysander’s clothing fit comfortably again.

“No. No! NO!”

Their fingers were still latched together when Lysander dared to peer down into the pool of bobbing apples to come eye to eye with the face he’d so carefully hidden. That face, while not unattractive, was so disturbingly plain in contrast to Leth’s gift. The youth tore himself away from Seodai as dread filled him like a wave of hot sickness; the sounds of a howling, terrified crowd and the beat of drums had all but faded away in favor of the macabre song of his blood pumping through his skull. “What is happening?!” it was all Lysander could manage from trembling lips without bursting into tears.

[Tabarnac]

Master Justus responded to needs, and even with everyone's connections with their patron deities disrupted of late, he could still sense need, and so he appeared next to the young Kelvic, Daroes Murphy, who needed someone to talk to. The rest of his coterie kept their distance, but he always did seem to have followers, which lent to the mystique of his person and the Temple of Nikali. The scarlet chain of his gnosis was visible on his chest through the wide collar of his tunic, and most foreigners come to shore in Denval did not understand how a priest of the goddess of slaves and lust could have such a high position in this little society of warriors on the edge of nowhere. Even some of the Denvali themselves could not grok the concept of a holy brothel, of temple whores, but those that came found a sort of healing, too. If anyone doubted that, they could just ask Cian Noc. "Enjoying the music?" he asked, his voice soft and non-threatening.

[Vanos Strongarm]

Syllke had done an admirable job in describing the foods that he had placed on the Isur's plate. From the odd looking meat that he described as some bird ("a chicken, Vanos, you've eaten it before!"), vegetables with a colour that reminded him of the sunset ("peppers and carrots are not from the sky, Vanos.") to the odd sauce that was covering a mound of white deliciousness known as mashed pot-toes ("Yeah! Kind of like apples from the ground, I guess!"), Vanos was getting a good lesson on the many foods that Denval provided. He found the fork and knife that he was provided with as inadequate to scoop up the amount of food that he wanted to consume; Vanos found it tedious that he was required, by manners, to cut his food into small enough pieces to place them on a fork and then consume them. Not that he would tear into his food like a savage but he saw nothing wrong with taking bigger pieces of food. If it wasn't for the Vantha's corrections, Vanos would appear as a caveman eating an endless buffet of food. While he would never admit or blame the food for the change in his body, he had noticed a very subtle, and very discernible change in the way his body was structured. Others may attribute the change in diet to foods that were less focused on muscle structure and maintenance and more on pleasure as the reason, but Vanos didn't think that was the case. How could food this good do something so bad to his body? The shirt that he wore, one of the many shirts that Syllke had so carefully and gleefully altered so it would fit his frame, fit just snug around his body so that it hid that extra little, tiny bit of width that grew around his midsection. A tiny, teeny bit of growth that he would brush off. Vanos would just dismiss it as something he didn't understand. Translation problem. His eyes followed Syllke as far as they could before the Vantha and a couple other men left the table. He couldn't tell exactly what was going on but was comforted by the fact that his plate was still full of food. After three full plates of the main food, it was suggested that he should try some of the sweeter foods, that he had avoided, for dessert. Vanos pushed himself away from the table and stood at the table of foods that were, he assumed, for dessert. The colours and the way they were presented on the plates (presentation, Syllke told him) made him smile just by looking at them. It was as if they were prepared, baked and placed on those plates out of pure happiness. Nothing bad could come from eating happiness, right?

[Haraza Frostfawn]

The streets of Denval were packed today. Haraza walked behind Hanno, as usual, letting her lead them forward even as the speech began. Haraza still didn't know the leaders and higher-ups apart very well, but he listened the best he could. The stories being told gave obvious reactions from the crowd, the way the words soothes or riled up or mystified people around him. Haraza smiled. Haraza, too, heard the Denvali around him as a blur rather than a language. But it's not what he heard that he put together, but what he saw. The way Cian Noc's hands motioned as he spoke. The way the crowd reacted, how they marveled with pride at his words. While he understood even less words than his daughter, he didn't need words to tell him how people reacted to stories. "He's introducing the festival and speaking of Denval, my dear. Talking about how great the city is, I think. You can tell by the way he's spacing things out he's making a point." Haraza answered, also in Vani. With a firm hand he lied against Hanno's shoulder, giving her a big smile. As the speech approached its cascade, a cheering and whooping from the crowd around, Haraza gave his own call to add into the symphony of voices around him, raising his fist from her shoulder to the air momentarily. Haraza took the offered drink graciously as the speech began, offering his badly accented 'Tanks' to the child who handed it to him. He wanted to reach out and scoop Hanno up in that instant, but she was off again before he had his chance. Thoroughly distracted by the drink offering Haraza hurried to catch up. Haraza reached Hanno as she began to speak to Veldrys, moving behind her and placing his hand again upon her shoulder. He smiled at the stranger, but caught sight of the pale skin and thicker claws. "I'n sorry, she gets away fro me sonetimes." Haraza said, his common still accented slightly, but he kept his tone warm and care-free. Still, he couldn't help but keep his hand protectively over Hanno and his eyes on the stranger. oocPermission to join late granted by Legion. ^_^ Thank you!

[Lucette]

Noise! Noise! The endless chattering of humans! The grating music! It all centered deep within Lucette’s skull, a lingering, frenetic cadence that pounded at her temples and frayed her nerves. The notes seared her brain, and ate away her careful composure. The slave girl’s head turned slowly to the left, and Lucette shook it to send soft curls swirling about her face. The disturbance did not subside with the movement; instead the pressure continued to build, and her agitation only grew stronger. Lucette sidestepped away, as if she could distance herself from the inner unease that swelled so uncontrollably in her head. In her haste, the Kelvic bumped into a man. He looked at her quizzically, and she turned abruptly to hiss menacingly at his carelessness. He was the cause of all agitation! She slunk away, and her normally soft and delicate steps transformed into a careful, predatory stalk. She had always been graceful, but now that grace had a deadly, charged feel, even within the human body that she wore. Shoulders tense, Lucette’s head lowered as she observed everything going on about each side of her. People. Humans… humans were in her way… A low keening sounded in the deepest portion of her throat. Gold flecked eyes stared here and there, at each abrasive person she passed. Lucette was unaware of the change in her demeanor, but there was nothing docile in the instinctive responses that filled her. Her Cheetah nature was that of a solitary animal, but even if Lucette had never known it, the Kelvic within knew it intimately and instinctually. There were too many people here! She did not trust them! She did not like them! She needed solitude, a way out of the maze of bodies... And she was hungry. Very hungry… Lucette needed meat. Opening her mouth slightly, her breath came heavy. The wild, predatory feline within that Lucette had never been allowed to express now recognized the chance at hand, and her animalistic nature too often denied, flared into life. Unprepared from living a life of almost human servitude, the Kelvic had no defenses with which to fight against it. Strong, feline sensations overwhelmed her mind… and in the blink of an eye, tiny particles of white, speckled lights transformed into the form of a very annoyed and very angry Cheetah.

[Talen Stirling]

Talen grinned in response to Lysander's challenge and narrative announcement of the competitors. Even if he didn't feel alike the others, they were all friendly and amusing. They were happy, even his cousin seemed to be enjoying himself more than ever before. So perhaps all of his worries were unnecesary. However, his optimism was quickly torn apart when something impossible happened. Blinding lights surrounded Lysander's tall, beautiful shape and obscured him from vision. His cries echoed across the field in a voice that went from the steady deep voice of an adult to the rough yet light voice of a teenager. He grew smaller, the light subsided and the terrified man-become-boy jumped backwards crying out in disbelief. Talen definetely had no idea what was going on, but all around the field there seemed to be turmoil and sudden strange events. Lysander's jump had brought him closer to him since he was at the back of the group, and a hand landed assertively on the youth's shoulder. "Stay calm," something is wrong, was left unsaid. He scanned the crowd warily, the majority of people seeming regular and merry. Yet, there were a few who were acting strangely, hostile to the people around the-- A tiger! Or some other form of giant cat had just formed a few feet away, hissing and snarling at the people who were scurrying away from it's predatory gaze. A Kelvic? He had barely seen the transformation out of the corner of his eye. God damn magic, he would never understand it...

[Seodai]

Seo did not notice the change in the music, nor its affect upon the sensitive Kelvic population. He didn't notice the advent of aggression in otherwise docile creatures. That moment of his life belonged wholly to Lysander, and to the small group they were with. He was laughing, bright and free, as he and Lysander half danced towards the apples. That the infectious bubble of the joy which was the ethaefal extended to include Talen and Syllke only made the encounter all the sweeter, an inclusion of those most important to him. His laughter died in his throat, his smile froze and then fell. While the rest of the interruptions might go unnoticed, the crackling, living light that sudden burst forth around Lysander couldn't. And, what's worse, it stole his Lysander away with it somehow. Seodai had never met an ethaefal in both of their forms. He knew Sitkanis, but only as a burly Drykas beneath Syna's golden kiss. And Lysander? Lysander was this demi-god that he couldn't help but worship. Now, though, those blinding lights had stolen away that inhumanly beautiful man and left behind... a kid? Insult to injury, Lysander jerked away. Alarm colored the voice that fell from the lips that used to be Lysander's. Lips that felt so very good against Seo's smooth skin. The farmer's face was inscrutable, though confusion and alarm were prominent in the emotions that caused his brow to scrunch. "Lys?" His voice was low, and only those closest to him might hear the panic lacing his words. Lysander had somehow put the barrel of water and fruit between them, and so Seodai had to step around it. He bumped it hard on the way, paying too little attention to his footfall. Water sloshed out, soaking one leg from hip to ankle. He didn't seem to notice. What mattered most was Lysander. What if the lights returned and snatched him up entirely? Poor, old Zahari. Seodai was terrified of the possibility, even as he was terribly confused about what those terrible lights had done to (or was it with?) his Lysander. "Are you okay?" he asked hurriedly, finally finding his voice. He reached for Lysander's hand again, only to have the smaller, younger fingers pulled away quickly. Seodai may have been bruised by that gesture under normal circumstances. These were hardly normal circumstances, though, and so Seodai opted instead to splay one calloused palm against the boys face. He brushed the chestnut, no longer gold, away from those unhappy eyes, and traced the line of his cheekbone on his way back down. His expression was focused, even as Seodai scrutinized the youthful face. It seemed like Lysander in there, somehow. Aged backwards. Gone softer, younger. Gone was the magical allure of his night form. But, even as he processed all of this, the truth of what was happening just didn't click. Seodai was not slow in intellect but, perhaps, blinded by affection. He didn't even consider that Lysander might understand exactly why he looked this way. He didn't imagine that the same Lysander might have deceived him all along, kept this from him. He certainly didn't think that, under different circumstances, this change was quite normal. He felt only alarm, and a deep concern. "Lysander, are you hurt?" Naively trusting, beautifully loving. "Lys, we'll fix it." For the very first time since the strange lights had stolen his Lysander, Seodai glanced away from the boyish face left behind. First to Talen, who was behind Lysander. Talen, the brave warrior amongst them. Talen would help make it right, wouldn't he? And then, more aside, to Syllke. Syllke, who was so very creative. He could figure out what they needed to do, couldn't he? Seodai's expression was beyond confused, pained, his eyes lingering on the dancing colors in his friends eyes before he glanced back to the place where his palm still rested against Lysander. "We'll fix it."