A Wrinkle in Time (Closed)

by **Aello** on May 28th, 2012, 3:39 pm

Spring 33, 512 AV

Pale wings; waxen a near peach in shade, fluttered open, wiping away the thick sheen of moisture that hung beneath their rounded perch. Elongated lines of near black ran from their edges, curling as they fought to keep out the harsh light that came in through the window. A thin sheet of pale silk dangling from the frame, fluttering in the stiff breeze that made its way through. The hairs were all that stood as reminder of life of the younger; before true born butterflies could emerge from their chrysalis. Take their first flaps. Nostrils, rimmed with an unsightly lobster red flared as the dying scents wafted through. Lavender, crushed, incased in a pillow now devoid of fluff as a head lolled from side to side, trying to clear the longer lasting effects of one of the potions the mistress had given several hours before. It did little to ward anything away, even the fading effects of herbs sent to lull her into Nysel's realm, to speed the recovery process along. Aello couldn't help but sigh as her eyes finally fixated on a single black dot upon a ceiling as clearly white as an egg's shell. She supposed it was a bug, a fly waiting to find the latest dead. Or perhaps, some sweet smelling perfume. The aroma of one of the stronger unguents left littered throughout the room, without their stoppers in place.

Long brown hair cascaded down the dip of a pillow; where the face had been left. Rose again to fall over the edges, while others crumbled back, their frayed edges tickling the girl's neck as she lay silently, simply staring at that speck. Trying to get herself to wake up fully before she truly bothered to move more than her hands, which had fallen off her chest, and settled at her sides. Her nails drew over the folds of cotton sheets, lazily draped over her lithe form. Her pale fingers furling over, capturing sections of fabric, that were then crushed beneath her weight. She could feel it scruffing, like a mangy dog she had intended on punishing. It soothed her to know she could feel. To sense the impurities held within, as the scuffle tickled the underside of her skin. Her legs vibrated, pulsing unpleasantly as coiled muscles were leased in painful spasms that shook the entire foundation. Feathers as white and pure as the dove's she had seen the day the Spire came down on her slipping out of the seams. Holes so tiny, that they could not be seen with the naked eye. They prickled her skin, forcing her to release her prisoner, in favor of running her hands silently over her prison, forcing all that had ventured out to relent; to recede.

When the cactus had called all of its twisted leaves back, Aello paused the grace of her hands, allowing them to slide up the length of her middle, towards her chest. There they stopped, there they rested as she gazed around the room. It was simple enough- filled with several empty beds all in a row. She was towards the center, farther than most from the window she had seen before. There were tables too, usually left between the beds, like bedsides. Most where littered with elaborate looking vials, some labeled, others not. She supposed these were medicines of sorts, if not the occasional perfume to ward away the stench of those who where grievously injured, dead, or dying. She supposed she wanted more of that stuff, whatever the Mistress had given her to ease her healing and her pain. Especially now that she had tried to shift her weight, and every portion of her body seemed to ache. She grit her teeth as she winced, praying to Tanroa that time travel swiftly, and heed the shuffling feet of those who tended her during the recovery process. That she get more of that mixture soon. She knew she would get more of it soon. The mistress would never allow her to die; or to get any worse, if she could help it.

Again, Aello sighed as her teeth slid onto her bottom lip. The soft petals bleaching; a pale pink tulip shedding its skin, becoming a ghostly white. Her fingers threaded as the crowns sank in. They settled comfortably on her chest; an impenetrable weave, difficult to get at with a ripper. Small indentations formed on parched lips, causing her to tear teeth away, to make way for her tongue's licking, until a time when water could be brought. She supposed she hoped that was soon too. She was getting tired in here; lonely. She simply wanted to be out where she could do things, where she could continue to fight and meet with Kaledon. But how could she, when she needed her body to mend, at least a little bit more?

by **Aello** on July 9th, 2012, 7:04 pm

Hot air pressed through thinly veiled lips, filtered through the spaces left between teeth. Ethereal grace danced about plump peaches, gone unnoticed by the eyes of man. Lacy edges of ruffled tutus tickled the smooth bed of skin as light pink laces left undone fluttered in the breeze as a final twirl of summation was given, before all sensation was lost. The will to entertain having died. Fingers ran over the silken casing of pleats, pressed tightly up against the skin, now that cotton blankets had been pushed down, to drape artfully about the knees. The nails trampled the elongated lines of demarkation; dividations of fabric already cast too thinly over parched skin. That ravaged by the heat, and by burns. Like too little butter over too much burnt bread. They crawled up the length of her chest towards her neck, where a low line of frill left part of her bare. And yet three ribbons hung there, plunging into the lowered line; between the defile of her breasts. One was white as an egret's feathers, another as black as shadow, the third a deep crimson, like the blood long spent. That which spattered the undersides of sheets she'd never save or show. It was the red her limb let entwine. Binding it against the self as it hoisted the weight it bore. She could feel it dragging across her skin; tickling her with its cool breath. The bell gifted to her by a man of time. That which cast sparkles into her eyes as she twirled her fingers delicately around the spare ribbon granted by the hands of healing maidens and men alike. The lonely fell beneath, encasing the underside of the dome, as slowly the limb retreated, releasing the red in angry spurts, which made her prize sink all the more into its eternal resting place. For now, she controlled time.

Aello's finger followed the supple curve of the bell; from the outer rim, to the circular binding atop; through which the red ribbon was looped. Everything about it was cold; relentless, like the harsh metal of her cursed blade. The color was far friendlier on the eyes however, in that it sparkled with Syna's radiance. Although, the color was not anywhere near as vibrant, or as bright, as though it had captured a part of her essence, and dulled over the years to a lackluster shimmer. To a golden shade that matched the chains kept around a lady's neck; should they be rich enough, not in mind or spirit, but purse. There were brass and copper undertones there as well, mirroring the darker, symbolic keepings of the item's other side. The notion that once collared, a woman always served. Was kept on a tight leash, just as Aello kept this bell on one, lest it fall into the hands of one who would use it against her. The edges, feathery in appearance, were the second thing Aello let her fingertips drag over. A deep grey, even black against the gold. They were warmer, perhaps because they were caving in; insulating themselves in a sense, as they kept out all light and emotional sense of solace and warmth. They seemed wispy, as though they had fallen some time ago, and most of the delicate fronds had been torn away by the winds of time; leaving the central stalk so close to a human's nudity, that it may as well have been. There were four lines at the head of each, which Aello's eyes sought. Central points, which made her wonder if originally, these markings were meant to be fans, or perhaps, shells given a more sentient life.

For a long time, eyes and finger hung; basking in the scrutiny Aello gave the gift she had been given for saving a life. Finally, after several chimes, at which point she had reached a certain level of satisfaction, the aurist raised her palm, bringing the bell closer to her lips. She kissed the side gently, before pulling it away, her eyes grazing over its surface for a moment, before she plucked it up, holding it deftly between two of her fingers, and pulled it even higher. It was then that her eyes could search the area underneath, the dark dome that not but a single shard of light could penetrate. The soft pendulum strapped to the bottom. A line with an orb; the way it was rung. The true power of time released, and all was begun. As pale pink petals parted, forming a delicate furl of a smile, her spare finger sprang forth, and gently brushed the orb. "It is you that holds everything," she whispered, as she pulled her finger away slowly, so as not to waste her single chance for the day. "If what Kaledon said is true anyway, but why would he lie about something like that?" The girl tilted her head to the side, shifting her weight every so slightly, ignoring the pain that sprang into her shoulders. "And how could you possibly be tested without alerting the others to your presence? Or rather, making you seem rude for calling them in this manner?"

The girl sighed, and then allowed her shoulders to sag, her entire body to shrug. Perhaps...

by **Aello** on July 10th, 2012, 3:34 pm

Aello pushed her finger forward again, allowing it to settle softly along the bell's flourishing curve, before taking a deep breath in through the nose, and out through the mouth. When the air she had taken in was released with a nearly inaudible sigh, she closed her eyes. It was then that she took another breath as she began to clear her mind; forcing the image she saw behind flecked eyelids a simple sheet of white. A blanket of snow, glistening in the sunlight. From that crystal clear image stemmed another sort of imagining. A figment of the mind's eye. For her finger changed then. It grew larger, in that it stretched. As though someone had taken a clamp to a nail and twisted, drawing it into a narrowed line. One that was fatter in the middle, and slimmer on each of its ends. One of the ends became a simple round; from which sprouted fissures. Several, which creaked as they continued to split along the length of design. Each darkened as they continued to crawl, winding like veins throughout what she was beginning to see had the texture of a darkened piece of wood. Mahogany perhaps; or something simply burnt during the craft. Finally, as these crags reached the other end, a small metal strip formed. Coiling around the end as though it were a singular metal cuff of faded copper, binding everything in place. Smiling weakly as she licked her lips, the aurist continued to breath evenly, as even smaller, slender lines of a much more delicate feel began to sprout from the metallic rimmed end. It was as though fine hairs were growing from a twisted head; marred by countless blemishes and deformities. It was as though a full head of hair could spring from the bald, borrowed body of a nuit. The girl smiled wickedly at the thought as a bristly mane of horse's hair continued to grow into a fine, teardrop shaped furl. When it ceased, having reached its full maturation, the backdrop began to shimmer, as though the light of the sun had strengthened alongside it.

For a moment, nothing more stirred, and all was silent and still. But this moment was fleeting, for within a heartbeat it seemed, perhaps two, a speck was beginning to form. It was circular, spinning on an invisible axis. A whorl of gold, that expanded each time it twisted. Aello simply watched it do so through her mind's eye for a time, until it came to be about the size of her palm. From there, what had once glistened and seemed so smooth began to grow hot. She could see it from where she sat, although she did not reach out to touch it with her mind. Tendrils of smoke wafted away, floating through the bed of white. Tinting some of it a dismal grey as black settled into the gold. Slowly, it melted down, dripping down the sides of the circle as though it were wax drizzling down the sweating stalk of a candle into a molten bed. She could see it pooling around the bottom most points, just as was seen in any temple that employed the blaze as opposed to incense. She could smell the fire inside of its heart burning, as it fell into the rim and then stopped, as two rivers ran up, forming a final loop, as the last of the black settled in, forming the same feather like pattern on the bell Kaledon had given her.

As the bell solidified, the landscape that lay behind it and the brush began to fade. At first it seemed to grow clear, as though the sun had grown too strong, and the snow was beginning to melt. But Aello soon realized that this was not the case, for it transformed from a transparent liquid, to a soft lavender, the consistency of paint. In an instant, the brush sprang forward, dipping itself in the cascade of soft shadings. As it pulled back, the aurist noticed beads of color; excess, dripping away into oblivion. A place she could not see, but hear, each time a droplet plopped. Shattering, exploding, into a multitude of miniature splatters. The brush seemed to ignore this. Her mind seemed to ignore this as the bristles, glistening with wet paint, drew closer and closer to the bell, until the end brushed up against the loop. Slowly swirling around, like a vine about the trunk of a tree. Soon, lavender was dripping down gold. Bathing it in a sickening sheen. The brush having run dry was retreating, drawing more from the background, before returning to run over the supple curves of gold. The black, allowing the paint to sink inside before moving on to other portions- the underside where the pendulum lay as the bell turned as if by an invisible string. Or perhaps, by reading the mind and the will of the artist herself. When every inch of the bell was covered, the brush retreated, so that the painter may study her work. Every corner of the bell glistened with a sheet of paint. Some areas heavier than others; caught with the occasional stray hair. A brambly bristle which she couldn't pick out with the help of trained pincers; keen, muddied eyes. Excess continued to run down as the paint fought to dry, and slowly settled into its canvas.

Satisfied, the painter drew away, as she imagined the layer disabling the bell from making a sound. Causing it to grow as silent as she, seemingly useless. The picture began to fade as her eyes fluttered open, leaving her with the true bell. The one she had painted with a shield, now faded. Not but a shimmer in its place. Tulips spread, forming a delicate smile that framed the stamen which lay within. Now all that's left is to test you, Aello thought as her eyes danced over the intricate designs on the nearest face. They followed the lines for a time, until the sound of footsteps looming outside her door rattled her enough to draw her out of her musings. Her thoughts. And look, time has favored us. Offering us but a single opportune moment to do just that. The girl waited, until the shuffling drew near. There was but a knock, as what she assumed to be a tray lain thick with both food, ointments, and other herbs clanked against the wooden frame. Next came the creak, as the door hesitated, reluctant to part. As it was forced slightly ajar. Aello could see the flash of metal as a tray was wedged through, keeping it from slamming shut.

Now is your chance, time is yours, Aello told herself as her fingertips tightened around the loop for a moment. The ends sweating a little as she gave the bell a swift shake. The pendulum swung, rattling against the sides. Jostling the metal enough where it sent tendrils of silent sound through the girl's fingers. Through her veins, the length of her coiled arm. The air seemed to hum as a nearly inaudible chime was sent forth, and then all fell silent as the air rippled. Pulsing with its own beat, her vision of the room stretching into thin lines before convulsing into a fit of insanity. Whirling dervishes, and then compressing back into normalcy. Although, Aello supposed this had to do more with her being in a slightly drugged up state, than with the power of the bell. Even so, it was enough to make her heart race as she watched and waited for what was to come next.

by **Aello** on July 10th, 2012, 5:53 pm

For three full ticks of the clock, nothing seemed to happen. The air didn't stir. The sheets never rustled; fabric never rippled. The pendulum had ceased, and hung loosely, while the door remained in place, the figure behind, balancing the tray which stood wedged in the doorway. The metal points shimmering in the sunlight that trickled through the open window. At the sight, the girl's breath caught, as she wondered if this was merely her imagination, or the magic of the bell was as Kaledon had said, something entirely too real. While another part contemplated what could be going through the bearer's mind. Would they know all had gone still when they were allowed to move again? Or would they lose the silent passing of this time altogether? Or, had nothing happened at all? The carrier simply ceasing to see if the girl had stirred through the slit, if she was decent, thus making it permissible for the third party to enter. Shrugging as a sandaled foot slid through the door, the girl resumed her breathing as the bell slipped. Falling onto her paling skin, before sliding between her breasts and out of sight.

Materializing out of the dark beyond was an older woman of about seventy years in age. With hair as silver and clouded as her daggers, and eyes as dark as her own, she came. Dark coals darting about the room until they settled on Aello. Her hands, grown slightly swollen and plump with age, speckled by freckles; like the fur of a leopard, shook against the side of the tray. Her weather beaten knuckles rattling against the underside as elongated nails clicked the metallic sheen. Drumming out her steps as tanned pink lines for lips parted, to reveal a wall of white marbled teeth. The color of the simple nursing dress she wore. The fabric swayed against her hips, her ankles as she tread. Aello could only watch her come as she grit her teeth and tried to sit up in bed. "Hello Mistress Claira," she called. "What is it you have brought today?"

"Just some herbs for your pain, water for your parched throat, and fresh bandaging and ointment for later," the older woman replied as she closed the distance between them, and set the tray on the beside table closest to Aello. Aello smiled as sparkles leapt into her eyes. The woman began to pour Aello a glass of water, which she knew she would never drink. She wasn't thirsty for the likes of such things, just knowledge. The exploration of this gift, coming to understand just what it was. What it could do.

"Sounds lovely," the aurist whispered.

"Yes, yes, now lie back as you get some more of the mint leaves for your pain. Can't have you moving too much or you'll never heal," she scolded as she put the full glass of water down and waggled a finger at the girl. Aello could only smile as the healer handed her some mint, which she chewed thoughtfully. "Speaking of which, we should be able to get one of the Konti in to see you later. A younger one, still practicing, but gifted well enough." Aello nodded in thanks, unwilling to respond with the leaves, semi-masticated, rolling about her mouth. "Be back with her later dearie. Or if not with her, alone, to change your bandages." Again, Aello nodded as she watched the woman retreating, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The bell.

The bell. As soon as the door had shut silently behind Mistress Claira, Aello pulled the bell's strings. It straightened instantly, as though it were a puppet in the hands of its master. Gingerly, her finger came forward, brushed the frame. Curled, so that the back end could run over the smooth surface too. Caressing it, as though it were a lover, or perhaps a most favorite pet. "You know, if I weren't imagining it all, I would say I could make great use of you," she whispered to it, as her fingers furled. Twisting the bell enough to make it ring. A clear, hollowed sound now that the shield had faded. Now that her concentration had broken, as the leaves rolled down her throat. "Only time will tell," she added with a satisfied smirk as she let the bell back down. Allowing it to settle upon fleshy bed, beneath a fabric tainted by blood.

The first bell had tolled; and now, time was hers.

OOCPermission to use the mistress granted by Paragon.

by **Cascade** on July 19th, 2012, 12:05 pm

Adventurer's Loot

Aello's Loot :

Lovely thread, and I don't think I've ever seen such a creative way to shield something.

Also, that bell is amazing. Take good care of it!

If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me!