Closed The Hand That Bleeds You (Rafael and Edreina)

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The Hand That Bleeds You (Rafael and Edreina)

Postby Edreina on January 24th, 2014, 8:22 am

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"I was not planning to 'excuse'... and now the wharf rat isn't bleeding all over the floor, I can finally talk..."

His dangerous tone was met with an icy glare that signaled a very strong desire in Edreina for him to stop stalling. As if to spite her, he suddenly found the process of fire-building to be ever so fascinating, leaving her to be reminded of how cold she was, especially with the now-damp ground. The chill of cold was quickly replaced by the stillness of anger as a single phrase caught her ear.

The rest of his little tirade was met with an unblinking glare as she attempted to rein in her frenzied thoughts. A thousand of them exploded in her head at once, all fighting and clawing for space on her sharpened tongue. The child's hand grasping hers broke the battle, bringing her back to the moment from her anger. "I'll take him to the fire. You've done enough," she growled in the Common tongue, pointedly ignoring Razkar's subtle hinting at her being an ignoramus; as if she did not feel his weak grip on her hand.

Without groaning, she looped both of her arms under his and pulled him gently to the side of the fire. The urge to groan was brought on by the exhaustion that plagued her every time she called forth Res. This time, it was thankfully less than before and she desperately hoped that was a sign of improvement. Once he was there, laying carefully on his back, she straightened up once again and turned on Razkar with the looming fury of an off-shore tempest.

"That wharf rat," she spat venomously, blue eyes caught between boiling and freezing solid, "is only bleeding because of what you did to him. He is a child, Razkar. From the look of it, he's never had parent to teach him right and wrong and, even if he did, they probably didn't teach him such in Sunberth. As you've so kindly pointed out, acting according to what's right will get you killed, here." In the dancing light of the fire, Razkar would see her hands were balled so tightly that they were a stark white. "Look at him, Razkar." Words would not come again until he had. "Does it look like he stole the food for fun?" He was tall, but his body was curved in a way she thought to be inherently painful by a lifetime's worth of hunger. "He could have cut your purse, but instead went for your food." That alone spoke volumes in her mind. Her lilting, accented voice was deadly quiet now, but utterly unwavering. "He was trying to survive in the only way he knew how and you've put him in danger. This place is rank with disease... A wound even as minor as that could grow infected and take away his arm or his life. Or both... A sickly cripple won't last long in Sunberth's Winter." Fire danced in her hair and her eyes as she shook her head. "Without thought of anything other than how things operate in Taloba, you acted. You maimed him, Razkar."

Finally, she sighed and it was apparent that she was spent. Beside the boy she sat, and sighed again. It was apparent in his every feature that he was still afraid, terrified, even, of Razkar. It was so wrong... His life was likely filled with a thousand different fears, why were they adding to that. Silently, she pulled Djed from her soul, straining faintly as she forced it into the gentle touch of her fingers upon his brow, brushing away his hair, and into her whispered words, "You're going to be ok... Please don't worry..." She wanted him to be at peace, for his heart to settle and for him to rest, now.

I can do more, for him... she thought blearily, reaching for her Djed once again. It was then that she was surprised by a sudden warmth rolling down her face. Was she crying? Why? Her fingertips left the boy's hair and moved to brush the tear away, only for her fingers to come back stained red.

Red, with blood. She blinked, and a pinkish haze covered her vision. The low, drawling voice of Ignotus Everto slid silkily through her head as she remembered his warnings. Overgiving, she thought and her lips formed around the word. As much as she craved to cast more Djed, helping the boy find peace, she knew that she could not. 'Do not be poisoned by your own venom,' he had told her before launching into a description of the symptoms of Overgiving. At the time, she had thought herself too wise and too responsible to fall to such folly.

It was so much easier than she had thought, forgetting that magic was not limitless and neither was she. Her legs trembled as she stood and made her way over to the dresser upon which rested a dingy mirror. Blue was so stark against bloodshot red, in her left eye. "Gods..." she whispered, sagging down to her elbows on the rough-hewn wood. A cynical laugh bubbled up from her chest.

As calmly as she could manage, she turned back to the man she had just been berating for a lack of forethought; Karma was not the bitch, apparently, but her sister Irony."Razkar, can you fetch me something to eat..." The words came even as she slid warily down to the floor, resting back against the drawers with her head tilted up. Magic really took it out of a person... Literally.

OOCHehe. Always wanted to Overgive.

NOW, it's your turn Raf. :P
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The Hand That Bleeds You (Rafael and Edreina)

Postby Rafael Colebourne on January 24th, 2014, 7:06 pm

Like a sack of potatoes he was carried to the fire. And though she layed him down, he immediately propped himself up against this closest wall and rested his head against it. Attempting to distract himself from the throb in his fingers, he stared unrelentingly at Razkar's features. The man was covered in intricate tattoos, ranging from a large circle on his forehead to a fierce tiger on his arm. The more he looked, the colder his innards grew. This 'Razkar' was a savage, a brute, a wilding, and quite possibly a man-eater; why else would he have sharpened his teeth?

He dug his nails into the pale flesh of his left arm as he tried to save some dignity by fighting back his tears. Like a dissonant orchestra the chords of aches, throbs and flares reached their crescendo in his head, which felt mysteriously detached from the rest of his body. When he moved it left to look at his stump, the weight of his face seemed to trail behind, as if the air had suddenly grown thick with an invisible tar. An icy knot began to form in his stomach as he heard the savage recount the events of his attempted thievery.

But the woman jumped to his defense, and though her words only reached his ears in fragments, he managed to catch their meaning.

The full weight of his predicament crashed down on him as he cocked his head and listened intently to her. She was speaking a more crippling truth than she probably realized. After all, what did he have? Some gold pieces, a few clothes --all far too thin to protect against the cold, and a collapsing shack with some ragged blankets for a bed. No employment, no income, no training or apprenticeship, nothing to fend for himself, save for sneaking up on people and lighten their purses.

He swallowed down a gulp and averted his gaze to the ground. The scent of the fire consuming its scorched meal reminded him of better times, times of warmth and comfort. Out there, on the piss-soaked streets of Sunberth, his bondage marked him as easy prey for thugs and slavers alike.

Pupils dilated, his eyes found Razkar again. The savage was even more terrifying now, his skin glowing in the fire behind him, breathing live and motion into his tattoos. Afraid she'd gone too far in arguing with her husband, Rafael braced himself for a flash of violence to come. Instead the woman sat down next to him, reinforcing his crumbling confidence with merciful eyes and a caring stroke. A wave of warmth streamed into him, and her eyes comforted him much more than he thought eyes were capable of doing, almost as if there was an an invisible force behind them...

But was he going to be okay? Much as her presence soothed him, doubt still gnawed at him. No, it wasn't going to be alright. She wasn't alright. Blood streamed down her face. Blood? Had he missed Razkar clubbing her on the head? No, it was coming from her eyes, she was a witch! He was stuck with a savage and a witch. A witch! Out of all people his father had warned him against, witches were the very worst. Magic corrupted free will, he'd even heard that magic could turn people into monsters, and he believed to be witnessing it before his very eyes. He was sure of it now, they were going to ease him into trusting them and then, when closed his eyes he'd be murdered, cooked and eaten. The pork Razkar had brought had been a bait to ensnare him, perhaps Razkar had already snacked on his pinkie...

"No!" He scooted far away from the fire, "stay away from me witch!" He cried feverishly. Eyeing the savage and his red-haired demon with wide, fearful eyes he retreated to the furthest corner of the room, stumbling clumsily against the furniture as he retreated. "What do you want from me?" He breathed quietly.
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The Hand That Bleeds You (Rafael and Edreina)

Postby Razkar on January 25th, 2014, 5:22 am

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"That wharf rat is only bleeding because of what you did to him. He is a child, Razkar. From the look of it, he's never had parent to teach him right and wrong and, even if he did, they probably didn't teach him such in Sunberth. As you've so kindly pointed out, acting according to what's right will get you killed here."

Razkar rolled his eyes and the roll turned into his neck and he bought it snapping back to her, turning away from the skewer he was loading pork onto. Edreina had changed so much since they'd met; the naivete that had defined her in the past had been... battered, abused, but not entirely shed. Part of him prayed, and prayed often, it would never leave; that some small corner of her would remain that child with enraptured eyes. But not now.

"There are no children in this place, Edri!" He barked out the words now, accent intensifying as it always did when his Common struggled to match his irritation. "And since when were you an expert on him? Mayhap his parents are no more moral than him, hmm?" He damn-near growled at her last comment, jabbing toward the boy with a dining fork. "I will remind you that the 'right thing' was exactly what I did! I sought to punish the boy, not leave him for the petching jackals. The situation changed, but the circumstances that created it did not. Were he older and I more decrepit, what think you he would have done? Put a knife in me after he'd ripped the food from our mouths?"

Razkar snorted, a picture of contempt for her innocence that he was unwilling to hide, not today. Instead he stabbed and impaled the inoffensive chunks of quivering meat like they were mortal enemies, taking out his frustrations elsewhere.

"Youth does not equate to innocence, Edri." His choler was lowered, perhaps; what was growling and irritated before was... almost pleading. "This is not the place for such softness-"

"Look at him, Razkar."

The Myrian did. He saw a shivering, sweating youth in threadbare clothes. He saw the white dressing with a core of dull scarlet covering the place where a finger should have been. He saw confusion in the flickering firelight, shadows caressing his gaunt face. Then he saw that hand gripping Edreina's so tight it made a pale hand even paler and his eyes narrowed. Razkar knew what the Svefra saw... and while he coul bring himself to see it to, it was the same insane leap to his mind as mutilation for thievery saw to hers.

"I see a thief who got punished."

"Does it look like he stole the food for fun?"

"He stole, and that was what mattered!"

"He could have cut your purse, but instead went for your food. He was trying to survive in the only way he knew how and you've put him in danger. This place is rank with disease... A wound even as minor as that could grow infected and take away his arm or his life. Or both... A sickly cripple won't last long in Sunberth's Winter."

"Ah, Ruros' balls!" One of the juicer Myrian oaths that he'd unfortunately taught the Svefra snarled from his mouth as Razkar looked upward, as if beseeching some deity for intervention. "Which is why I brought him here! I wanted him to just scurry off like the wharf rat he is, but no, he had to faint and suddenly I was responsible-

"Without thought of anything other than how things operate in Taloba, you acted. You maimed him, Razkar."

The table screeched as Razkar jerked quickly to his feet, latent, chained violence in the harsh movement. The Svefra didn't budge, though. She held her ground and stared up at those glaring black eyes. Perhaps she knew, despite the evidence under her shoulder speaking otherwise, that she was perhaps the one barbarian beyond his wrath.

"If we operated like in Sunberth," he ground back between his teeth, "I would have left him to die. But I am not a petching barbarian. He heals, he eats, then he fucks off back to his hole..."

She didn't snarl back like they were two cats in an alley; that somehow made it worse. She didn't goad or play to his anger: she turned from him and back to the boy, like he was so worthy of the attention and he was-

Unworthy. Naturally. Because I wouldn't let him freeze to death.

"Ah, waste your own time... Myri knows we're already wasting the food."

He muttered once more in his own tongue and got back to the pork, rolling his eyes again as she whispered some sweet nothings to her newest pet... then his hands stilled over the skewer. There was... something else in her tone. Something under it, more than just words... was it djed? Well, if she wanted to work that on the lad, so be it. Would be stop her? Not bloody likely.

"And when this is ready," he grumbled as he set the skewer over the deliciously-warm flames, "Don't give him the choice cuts. He won't bloody well get what he tried to steal just be-"

"Gods..."

The tone was all he heeded, not the word. His head whipped around so fast it almost broke his neck, just in time for his wide eyes to take in her sinking, drained, melting from the exertion.

"Reina?!"

She chuckled, and Razkar thought it was because only now, in real stress, did he use the affectionate diminutive that everyone else used for her. All other times, she was "Edri". Razkar darted over and low, catching her before she'd finished slumping over-

"Razkar, can you fetch me something to eat..."

-close enough to feel the breath from her words as she muttered them; smell the copper sting of the blood oozing from her eyes.

Don't panic. Think... Overgiving. From the mage's book about The Flux. It happens when you use your wyrd too much, and she has used two kinds in as many chimes.

"OK, Edri, listen to me," he said softly, switching back to "Edri" and placing her gently on her side near the boy, "Just relax and breath. It's your wyrd, making you weak, sit down and-"

Then, of course, naturally, fittingly for that sodding day, Razkar had a fresh problem: the Boy had stopped pretending.

"No! Stay away from me witch!"

Frantic and terrified as he was, Razkar's first thought was along the lines of, Gods but he can surely move on a petched up hand. The Boy scooted back against the chair, knocking one over, making the table groan in protest as he knocked into it, until he was against the wall and babbling. Throughout it all, Razkar didn't move. He just blinked, and watched.

"What do you want from me?"

The Myrian glared at him and decided not to voice the most urgent and vindictive suggestion that came to mind. He didn't want the child bawling and bringing the landlady storming the castle. Instead he turned back to Edreina, words coming slowly, grudgingly, but in Common that was fluent, if accented.

"I want you to eat, and to rest, and then I want you to leave."

Razkar turned back to his woman, putting her head in his lap as he sat cross-legged by the fire. He reached up and spread his shadow across the room, a looming shade that reached and lurched... but only for a pan of water with a moist towel bobbing inside it. Then the shade began to wash his lover's face, wiping away the blood that stained her pale face.

No reply. Wonderful start.

"What's your name boy?" He flicked a glance over to the human and grimaced, like he'd smelled bad meat. "And stop cowering, for Myri's sake. If I wanted you dead, you would be..."
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Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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The Hand That Bleeds You (Rafael and Edreina)

Postby Edreina on January 25th, 2014, 6:58 am

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"No! Stay away from me witch!"

That was unexpected to say the least, for Edreina. Blood-rimmed eyes blinked up at the scooting child before drifting shut again. They burned. They itched. It was awful. With a groan, she lay her forearm across her eyes, blocking out the light though it did little in the end. They hurt from the inside out, not the other way around. If her knowledge was anything to go on, these symptoms were mild. If she had used more Reimancy, she could have liquefied her insides. More Hypnotism, and she could have bled from her mouth as well as her eyes. Bad enough she scared the boy instead of comforting him as she had planned. A little bird warbled in her mind, begging her to use more magic, perhaps to clean her eyes with transmuted water or to try again to calm the boy. But she knew its allure and was able to see through the haze.

"What do you want from me?"

Silence... The redhead thought with a quiet groan. If only for a moment... Her head was pounding, her eyes throbbing, and her butt hurt from laying on that damn hard wood floor. Another weak laugh bubbled up from her chest as she realized that she was getting upset with him over her terrifying him by bleeding out her eyes. Gods... How she probably looked to him. She laughed again, this time stronger. Probably like some 'witch' trying to ease his pain a moment before she tossed him into the fire. And Razkar was the Myrian she sent out to bite off a child's finger so that they could be sure the meat was perfectly tender. Again she laughed, but this time cut off with a groan as it made her eyes throb again. Poor kid... I'm probably terrifying him with this laughter, too.

"I want you to eat, and to rest, and then I want you to leave."

Couldn't have said it myself, she thought with a shrug before tensing as she felt Razkar's hands on her. And then, she relaxed, completely and utterly, with the gentlest of sighs. "I should Overgive every time we start to argue," she whispered, too tired to think of his tongue or to try to simplify hers. Pale fingers reached up to caress his hand as he tended to her. Usually, she would worry about a stranger seeing them as such. But she was both too tired and too generally uncaring in that moment. All she wanted was to rest, now.

"What's your name boy? And stop cowering, for Myri's sake. If I wanted you dead, you would be..."

Edreina grimaced lightly, ignoring the urge to look at the poor boy. Before he could speak, she started to. "Look. I'm sure this day has been far from ideal for you. Razkar is a good man, if a little misguided," she did not have to have her eyes open in order to see the look he gave her. Some levels of annoyance managed to transcend sight, vibrating down into her bones in a way that would have been menacing had she not known him so well. "And I know that I probably did not create the best impression with the whole bleeding eyes thing, but I was just trying to help... I feel bad for what happened to you." The woman sighed knowing that this was about as helpful as telling a terrified and injured dolphin that you had fish. Words alone did little. He had to feel that she meant no harm without the use of her hypnotism. Fingers stilling on Razkar's hand for an instant, she decided to approach it from a different angle. "My name is Edreina," she offered gently. Tilting her head, she was able to look at him for an instant. Hopefully, he would be able to see more than the harsh pink, into the deep and caring blue at the center.
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The Hand That Bleeds You (Rafael and Edreina)

Postby Rafael Colebourne on January 25th, 2014, 11:55 pm

Rafael's eyes flicked between Razkar and Edreina, unsure on which to settle, which to trust. The enraged savage or the red-haired witch? His legs were stiff, his arms heavy and a massive bell tolled in his head, hammering against his temples every bloody tick. Brushing his hand through his hair he tried to cast the two out, perhaps he'd wake up, perhaps it had all been a bad dream. But the odd couple was still bickering when he glanced up, the bitter stench of clashing personalities was almost palpable. This was what happened when a crushing force met an indestructible object.

Edreina's red hair morphed into his red scarf, dangling loosely about his mother's neck. Razkar's grimace became the rough-cut face of his father.

"He is your responsibility as well, Edmund," his mother cried.

Making his own path through the furniture, his father stumbled over towards his mother, the foul scent of piss and drinks trailing after him. "Don't talk so loud you petching whore," his father had hissed, "you birthed the bastard so you'll take care of him. And that's final!"

Little Rafael cowered even further under his blankets, putting his fingers in his ears until they hurt, trying ever so hard to fall asleep again. But even in that muffled world, were he could hear the frightened galloping of his own heart, he still heard the shrieks and growls that his parents exchanged almost daily. The next day, they'd both apologise to him, swear it wouldn't happen again. His father first, before he left to work in the old mines, then his mother who would rouse him from what little sleep he'd have caught. "We both love you," she'd whisper, "that's why we're staying together. You are our hero. We love you."

Hero or not, he'd been unable to put an end to their bickering, and just like now, he'd been unable to make a choice.

Sagging down against the wall, the present returned, and he nodded quietly when Razkar explained his demands.

"What's your name, boy?"

"I am Rafael," he straightened his back, "and I'm not a wharf rat. If I was, you'd be long dead, your wife would've been raped and sold into slavery and I, well I would've earned more coin than I could spend this winter."

He sighed, "I know there's no excuse for what I tried, and I am sorry for what I did. If I had known you had a wife to take care of, I wouldn't have tried to take it," he nudged towards the cooked pork. "You have no reason to trust me on my word, so tell me what I can do to make it up to you and I will see it done even if it'll be the end of me." His voice was gruff but strong, sharp but sincere.

"I am not being useful to anyone anyway," he dropped his head and awaited their ordeal.
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The Hand That Bleeds You (Rafael and Edreina)

Postby Razkar on January 26th, 2014, 3:17 am

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"'Misguided'. Fucking rich, coming from you, female..."

Twas indeed a sharp and barbed look Razkar hurled Edreina's way, but it was wasted on the back of her head. He added a grumbling Myrian sentence into the mix but by the time she'd finished her well-wishing to the terrified boy, she was past caring... and he had other things to worry about.

"Gods, what a mess, female," he said as he wrung out the towel again, water now pink and his hands stains, wiping away the last of the claret on her cheeks, "Didn't anyone warn you about this? Everto?"

"I am Rafael, and I'm not a wharf rat."

That caught the Myrian's attention, it only because it gave some identity and shape to this bedraggled creature cluttering up their lodgings. He wasn't just "him" or "the boy" or "wharf rat" (certainly not the last, apparently), and that added... a little more depth to him.

Then he went and spoiled it with the implied threat of his next sentence, but Razkar was not so proud or impulsive to rise to it. After all, this "Rafael" was only a boy: he was foolish and injured and, well...

You did cut his finger off.

"Hmm." He said with a roll of his eyes, deciding that sarcastic apathy was preferable to cutting off something else. "You would have tried, at least. Which would not have been so bad, perhaps. Less complications, in this city, to just leave a corpse rather than make an amputee..."

The Myrian turned back to the meat and expected some sharp retort, something they could knock back and forth until sullen silence or explosive violence claimed one or both. But instead, Rafael's words were... apologetic. Conciliatory. Contrite and, perhaps, genuine.

But since when were you a great judge of that?

He should have just ignored him. Kept his eyes on the skewers, rotated them as he needed to, ensuring all of it got thoroughly cooked, fed him and shoved him out the door. Conversation wasn't even really necessary, was it? Food, eat, leave... nothing there about talking.

Too long in these lands, perhaps. Clemency for the barbarians, their dregs and scum.

Then Razkar's eyes flickered to Edreina. Stubborn and too-trusting and so sodding, irritatingly optimistic about the world... and he sighed. All those things and more... but the one he loved, and the soul that inspired him.

"Every man does what they assume to be the best," he said as he slid the sizzling hunks of meat off the skewers and onto a plate, "But few take responsibility for them. That means you accept the consequences of your actions." He thought of the curse etched onto his chest and nodded to himself. "I know that, as well as any other. You were starving, you tried to steal from me, and then you tried to mulch my eggs. So I cut your finger off."

Metal clanked against wood and bit into bread as Razkar worked on the table, spreading out their fare and preparing... more than looked necessary. A think smile creased his face as the human spoke again, shaking his head with a warmth in his eyes the human hadn't seen before.

"Heh, she's not my 'wife', as you barbarians call it. I'm her... ah, that is to say, she's my woman, true enough, but no priest has mumbled his words over us." Razkar gazed up wryly, as if expecting some thunderbolt of judgement to smite him. Alas, it did not... by he was in Sunberth; perhaps even the gods feared to walk those streets. "Where I come from, males and females love each other, true, but... becoming together, a partnership with priests and ceremony and such... it is for the elders. I am still too young, I think, but who knows..."

The boy... no, Rafael made his offer then, and Razkar turned to give him the full weight of his stare. Chin out, back straight, eye level... ah, such a noble bearing. He'd seen it before, on knights and knaves alike, with pure honesty and the blackest lies behind their words. To this day, Razkar hadn't been able to fathom lies. They were so... distasteful. It spoke of cowardice, or weakness. Better to err on the side of caution and just assume everyone not blessed by Myri was a liar. And in Sunberth? Doubly so, and he was about to say as much when-

"I am not being useful to anyone anyway."

The Myrian was still. The fire crackled merrily and Edreina breathing had become even and true. In silence he placed a plate next to her, rubbing her cheek until her fluttering eyes opened and he placed her hand next to it.

"Get something inside you. Wyrd takes much out, hmm?"

Then he got up, a plate in each hand. The boy cringed a little as the Myrian loomed over him, but then Razkar surprised him anew as he offered one of the plates. A hefty slice of steaming, gently-hissing roast pork. A thick hunk of bread with cold, hard cheese.

"Eat."

He should have left it there, but try as he might, even less than a bell later, Razkar couldn't see the boy or the wharf rat anymore.

He saw Rafael.

"Then we'll talk about you being useful..."

You're getting soft and stupid, male.

Oh, shut up.
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Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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The Hand That Bleeds You (Rafael and Edreina)

Postby Edreina on January 28th, 2014, 5:51 am

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"Get something inside you. Wyrd takes much out, hmm?"

Without realizing she had drifted off to sleep, Edreina woke and smirked faintly. "Something inside me, hmmm?" she growled playfully, winking as she sat up. But, all was jest. Even sitting up made her head pound and, as she reached for some of the steaming meat, something dark and odd caught her eye. The tips of three of her fingers were faintly purpled by bruising. Perhaps, she considered quietly, picking up the meat with one hand so that she was free to examine her fingers, The same thing happened here as with my eyes... I did channel the Djed into my fingertips...

The Svefra ate quietly and delicately, feeling more and more comfortable as she felt her belly filling and her strength returning. She still felt empty in a way that transcended hunger and the pull of using more Djed, more Res. It was better, though. When her food was gone, she stood and made her way over to the bed, sitting crosslegged upon it. Razkar and the boy were discussing something that had obviously been brought up while she was asleep.

Edreina knew that her mind was not clear enough to offer anything to the conversation. Instead, she decided to sit and watch and let the males work it out. After all, they were the cause of this mess.

OOCSorry! Not much for me to do, here.
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The Hand That Bleeds You (Rafael and Edreina)

Postby Rafael Colebourne on January 28th, 2014, 6:19 am

Rafael took some careful bites, the fat and juicy meat tickled his tongue and his eyes dilated a bit as he swallowed the excellent food down. One by one his throat, chest, and belly warmed up, sending new strength into his small frame. When he was done licking the juice off his finger, he charged at the old cheese with renewed vigour. It tasted dry and salty, the perfect follow up to the fat pork. He never looked up from his plate, not until he'd scraped the last crumb off it.

Still shaken but replenished, he put the empty plate down. "Thank you," he said to Razkar. His eyes were heavy now, and he could barely keep them open. "I just need a chime, to close my eyes" he yawned, "then I'll be on my way, depending on-"

He never got to explain what it depended on as he fell soundly asleep. Slumped against the wall his head bobbed to the side and for the first time in that season his features were relaxed, peaceful even. All his worries were forgotten, his pain was just a faint throb in the background, and his eyes remained closed for many more bells to come.

OOCAs far as I can tell, this is drawing to a close. I propose Raz does a final post and then we can start a new thread in which Rafael becomes their apprentice? I dunno...I don't want to make it too much about my character. Perhaps there is some business that Raz and Edreina need to attend to in which they could use his help? He knows his way around Sunberth...
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The Hand That Bleeds You (Rafael and Edreina)

Postby Razkar on January 28th, 2014, 11:20 pm

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Gods, I didn't even know you could do that.

Razkar blinked his surprise as the boy went from making excuses to snoring within the space of three breaths. Edreina, propped up on her bed and looking better for a solid meal in her, seemed ready to doze off herself.

Must be the weather, he thought with a sigh, looking out their frost-crusted window and longing yet again for the humid clime of Falyndar. Sucks the energy out of you like a winged leech...

The Myrian sat back down and finished his feed: he'd cut a boy's finger off for it, after all. Damned if he wasn't going to savor it, at least. Watching the sleeping figure, mouth chewing mechanically, Razkar pondered and wondered and questioned, directing them inwards as much as out.

Where can this go? He is a thief, and thus cannot be trusted. Even now, he could be faking his sleep, waiting for you to drift off, and then...

Rafael shifted against the wall and slid down slowly, using his arm as a pillow. Razkar knew what the narrative demanded of him: he was to carefully place a blanket over the boy, a little touch of sentiment to show he wasn't all bad.

Bugger that. We've only got one and we need it.

But...


With a muttered curse from his homeland, Razkar snatched up something from the bed and stalked over to Rafael, slowing suddenly when he reached that cluster of squeaking floorboards. The fire lit him like a creeping daemon as he approached, black eyes clinically gauging and approving of Edreina's work to the stump of his finger... leaning down... readying what he held...

... and sliding the pillow under the boy's head. Rafael shuffled a little, unconscious body for readjusting to this change in outside stimuli, but gratefully staying that way. The boy's hand reached out, however, and-

-Razkar moved deftly away.

Oh, no. We're not even close to that yet, boy.

But when he walked back and caught his female's eye, he held up a stern and reluctant finger, snatching up his tome on The Flux as he clambered back onto the mattress.

"Not a word, Edri. Not a bloody word..."

Razkar of the Shorn Skulls settled onto the mattress and let the smoky warmth of the fire caress his bare feet as he slid off his sandals, toes wiggling in the light, stubby shadows dancing against the wall. Already Syna was fading behind her mourning veil of constant cloud, wind and tiny shards of ice battering their window.

Beyond it Razkar knew that sexes and ages indiscriminate froze and starved and brother would throttle brother for an extra blanket or a loaf of bread. Razkar spared a thought for that... but just the one. After a moment he turned to a section on meditation he was unsure of.

"Sleep, my love," he murmured, eyes already squinted like they always did when he focused, "I will watch our... guest, for a few bells."

Soon a patient and muted chorus filled the room. Soft snores from Svefra and human; twigs and kindling crackling, and logs hissing as flame scorched them; the wink rattling the windows and the small sound of figurs outside brawling, laughing, loving, hating, living, dying... and the occasional fwup of a page being turned...
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Razkar has been cursed by Yahal, and as such finds little acceptance from others; they will instinctively view him as being deceptive and traitorous. However, when close to one blessed by Yahal, the effect is negated. The curse is etched onto his left pectoral, and viewing the mark causes others to feel dirty and unclean.
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The Hand That Bleeds You (Rafael and Edreina)

Postby Vanari on March 7th, 2014, 6:33 pm

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Raz
Intimidation +1 XP
Logic +2 XP
Tact +1 XP
Intelligence +1 XP
Body Building +1 XP

Lores :
  • Survival of the Fullest and Warmest
  • Weakness Dies in Sunberth
  • Taking a Pinkie: An Act of Mercy
  • A Millennia of Male Subservience
  • Edri: I'm Not Making Excuses!
  • Edri: A(nother) Fiery Debate on Morals
  • Reina: Collapsed from Overgiving
  • Rafael: The Boy Who Isn't a Wharf Rat
  • Watching Over Those who Slumber


Rafael
Observation +4 XP
Larceny +1 XP
Rhetoric +1 XP
Intelligence +2 XP
Stealth +1 XP
Negotiation +1 XP
Endurance +1 XP

Lores :
  • Stealing in the Name of Hunger
  • Caught Red Handed...Literally
  • A Pinkie for Retribution
  • Razkar: The Foreign Savage
  • Edreina: Red Haired Witch
  • When a Crushing Force Meets an Indestructible Object
  • A Full Stomach, A Peaceful Slumber


Edri
Intelligence +2 XP
Hypnotism +1 XP
Medicine +1 XP
Rhetoric +2 XP
Persuasion +1 XP
Reimancy +1 XP

Lores :
  • Raz: Bringing Home the Bacon Body
  • Healing a Pinkie Stump with Res
  • Raz: He's Just a Boy!
  • Undergoing the Effects of Overgiving
  • Overgiving: Effective Way to End Arguments
  • Rafael: The Boy Raz Maimed
  • Food to Ease the Wyrd


Notes :
A delight to read, and impressed, as always. It made me laugh, think, cringe, the whole shebang.

Please don't hesitate to PM me with questions, comments, or concerns! Also, remember to edit your grade request as "graded."

Cheers :D
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A lonely heart is better than a bored one.

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