The Whispering Wind (Dra-Seven)

[Archon]

Season of Summer, Day 6, 511 AV It had been almost a third of a season since Seven tossed his Miza into Kova's Well, and during that span of time he had the slightly uncomfortable feeling of eyes watching him whenever he had passed through the courtyard surrounding the well. Even if it seemed no one else was about it always seemed like someone was staring at him. Sometimes he could even faintly hear that same voice whispering to him that he had heard on the day that he cast his coin in. This particular evening, as Seven's business took him past the well once more, the courtyard was completely deserted, and the feeling of a hidden gaze was intense. A faint breeze was blowing through the courtyard, and on it came a now familiar sounding voice, "Lelina... How I miss her," the voice was stronger now, sounding more like someone in the area actually speaking than just a mysterious whisper. Shortly after the voice spoke a pale, translucent, figure rose up from within the well. It looked to be a man in his mid thirties wearing clothes that could best be described as a traveler's outfit, rough simple clothes suited for long travel, and short black hair sat atop a plain face. Aside from his translucent appearance, along with the smoky white soulmist drifting around him, he would not look out of place wandering the thoroughfares and passageways of Syliras. Turning his brown eyes towards Seven the figure drifted forward slowly as the ghost spoke, "You... You're the one who called to me. Won't you please help me find my Lelina?"

[Seven Xu]

Summer air hung stagnant around the Stone Gardens as Seven passed hastily through them. Every time he found himself in proximity to the ethereal place, it felt as if eyes were on him, a presence near him, and a voice called to him. Until now, he had chalked it up to growing paranoia. Paranoia of what exactly remained a mystery even to him. As a breeze picked up, it carried light hair across Seven’s forehead and with it the smell of burning torchlight from the never distant citadel.

Lelina... how I miss her.

From Seven’s peripherals rose a curious white haze with the same familiar voice that had dragged through his mind several times since his encounter with the wiry thief whose name had escaped him with the passage of time. It drew his gaze, and soon, his feet as well as his pace slowed and he turned towards the well. Bleary eyes blinked several times in disbelief, as if to clear his mind – but focusing and refocusing on the apparition did not make it disappear.

“Hello?” Seven called into the darkness. If his voice were a physical entity, Seven was sure it would have floated clear through the translucent frame of the man that was addressing him. He had never encountered the likes of the undead before, and while he assumed he would be overcome by fear when he had; nothing but a sense of calm curiosity radiated from him. “You're the one who called to me. Won't you please help me find my Lelina?" Called to him? Seven’s brow drifted skyward and he did a brief shoulder check to ensure no other eyes were on him as he approached to close the gap between himself and what he had only assumed by now, was a ghost. “I am not sure I understand,” his voice was unfailingly polite, even to something he was unsure actually existed. There was a short pause before Seven began to offload a nervous slew of questions. “You are the one that’s been calling to me? Who is Lelina? How did I gain your attention? Are you the ghost that lives in that well?”

[Archon]

As Seven approached the simple ghost he was able to make out the man's eyes, a soft brown, full of sadness and longing. Even the flat expression of his plain face seemed to contain faint traces of sadness now that Seven could see the man's features more clearly. Seven's response, followed by his barrage of questions, washed away the sadness with a brief show of surprise, the man's eyes widening slightly, followed by relief and the faintest hint of a smile, "Oh, you finally heard me. I'd started to wonder if I was merely insane..." the man gave a small shake of his head before turning a determined gaze on Seven, "Yes, I have been calling you. Lelina is my love, or at least she was when we were both alive," Giving another shake of his head the man turned his gaze back on Seven again, "Please, all I want is your help in finding Lelina. I've looked, but I can't find her. Please, won't you help me?" towards the end of his words the man's voice took on a hint of pleading, and his face showed the signs of someone truly desperate, "I know I don't have much to offer you, but won't you help me find her so I can move on and be free of this shadow of an existence?"

[Seven Xu]

He was worried about his sanity?

“Of course,” Seven replied with a breathless tone, still visibly unnerved by the fact that if he reached forward, his hand very well may go right through the man that pleaded with him. He was apprehensive to help at best – although he thought it noble for love to persist even after death – who knows what he’d find. A sullen widow? A macabre pile of human remains? Seven’s eyes bored into the face of the ghost as if trying to draw a conclusion to his expression. He seemed sincere, enough.

“Do you … know where to begin looking?” Seven’s brows knitted together, checking over his shoulder a second time. He thought to ask the ghost his name, if anyone else could see him, or if Seven looked like a lunatic whispering into the night. He floundered in his serendipity, something that seemed to hang on to him wherever he wandered and pondered why Lhex or maybe even Ionu were intent on pushing interesting figures into his life. It was curious. Seven did a full body turn then, eyes searing into the darkness that enclosed them as if expecting Lelina to appear in the night as if on command. “Is she still alive?

“If she is alive, will she be able to see you? My apologies … I know little of-,” he hummed, biting down on his lower lip in a pause and his voice flattened, “ghosts.” It was then, in his humility, Seven felt the bite of his worn fabric on his tired skin, buttons clinging haggardly to cotton. His thoughts wandered to the Ravokian that was likely dead asleep in his bed, still ragged from an impossible journey on foot. What would he think of this?

[Archon]

Seven's answer instantly brought a show of relief and hope to the man's face, and the sound of it to his voice, "Oh thank the Gods!" he stepped out of the well and approached Seven, moving as if to shake his hand, but stopped just shy. "I have a rough idea where to look," the man said with a nod, and gestured to the east, "Outside of the city walls, and a little way into the bronze woods. I remember a few things from nearby, but I haven't found any of them when I looked myself." Seven's turn around revealed a pair of Syliran Knights walking along the nearby thoroughfare, but they seemed to be paying little attention to him or his ghostly companion. One of them noticed Seven's eyes on them, and gave a slightly cautious nod of his head in return. "She's not alive," the man replied to Seven's question with a shake of his head and a faint tinge of anger, "Those men made sure of that. I know beasts like them wouldn't give her body proper respect, and that's why I need your help. I have to at least make that right." Seven's last question brought a look of confusion to the Ghost's face, "Why wouldn't anyone else able to see me? You can see me, can't you?" after a moment realization seemed to dawn on him, "Oh, you're worried I'm not real? I assure you, I am. If you'd like you could try and touch me, but it should only be quick so you aren't hurt."

[Seven Xu]

Seven’s apprehensiveness showed in a crooked smile and a quirked brow. Just wander out into the forest with nothing more than an apparition for protection; while it sounded like a little more adventure than the halfblood could handle, he gave a slow nod. “I will do what I can.” It could not be helped; he couldn’t simply leave the man after he said he would help. The thought of the murky depths of the Bronze Woods would raise his heart rate and wash his pale skin in a hot wave of perspiration made cold in the night air. The ghost’s offer to touch him to verify his existence brought the awkward smile back to Seven’s lips and he shook his head briefly, refusing to let his digits linger within the swirling soulmist. “I believe you.”

Seven’s heart caught in his throat as his gaze met that of the passing knight. The halfblood had good reason to be wary - he never really knew what sort of reaction to expect from those that controlled the fortified city, although most often he expected a judicious glare to be shot in his direction. He was, after all, skinned in a manner that was entirely inhuman, and many of them picked up on it quickly in the light of day. A dirty look was better than an arrow, he decided; when the knight did little more than nod in his direction, Seven nearly smiled and broke the gaze to turn to the ghost, “Lead the way.”

Knights patrolled the Bronze Woods at all hours of the day and night, though that did little to sway Seven’s thumping heart towards anything resembling calm. Weighing racism against sacred duty overcame the majority of Seven’s thoughts as he plodded on leather boot behind the ghost. Would a knight save him from a terrible, bloody death if something attacked him out here, or would they deem the halfblood of not being worth their time? The glow of the citadel behind them was slowly melting away and seemed little more than an orange beacon by the time they had left the relative safety of the North Kabrin Road and slipped into the uncomfortable embrace of the Bronze Woods. Seven had been in the general area once before, mapping a path to an ethereal pond for a squire whose name had conveniently floated out of his racing mind. The entire journey from the front gates, down the road and back up again into the forest had taken little more than a half bell and through it all Seven had remained quiet. Finally, he spoke up.

“Are we close?” It came out as little more than a whisper.

[Archon]

The light coming down from Leth, along with Seven's heritage, gave him a good, if not comforting, view of the area the Ghost was leading him to. A little ways off of the North Kabrin Road they came across a faint trail through the trees and grass. As they moved stepped onto the trail, the Ghost having taken to walking instead of floating shortly into the trip, the man started to mumble softly to himself too quietly for Seven's ears to pick up. Seven's softly whispered question seemed to startle him out of whatever had caused his mumbling, and he turned to give Seven a faint smile, "It shouldn't be too far. The clearing is just a little ways ahead, and I don't think they dragged us that far before..." as the man's voice trailed off Seven caught a brief glimpse of a ragged cut across his neck that spilled liberal amounts of blood down onto his clothes, but both cut and blood vanished shortly after appearing. Turning back onto the path the Ghost started to mumble again, but this time loud enough for Seven to hear, "We were just sitting there, smiling at each other. Lelina screamed. She was pointing behind me. I started to turn my head but something struck it. The world spun. Lelina screamed again. The men laughed, and made those horrible comments..." This time it was the ghostly man who interrupted his mumbled words as he gave a small gasp and moved off the trail to a small clearing, "Ah, here it was..." The clearing was rather simple, and probably would be lovely in the daylight. A couple fallen logs were gathered around a simple fire pit, and there was a good amount of open grass about, "We came here... just to have a picnic. Just a happy day together away from the city," sorrow filled the man's voice as he spoke.

[Seven Xu]

Seven’s eyes grew wide and face flushed white as the streak of blood and broken flesh appeared before his eyes as if on command from the back of the ghost’s neck. He reached forward as if intending to touch it, but it disappeared as quickly as it materialized and he jerked his curious digits away. As the pair neared the clearing, Seven’s attention was divided between listening to the apparition and their surroundings. It was cold. Colder than it should have been for early summer, and the prickling, stinging goose bumps on Seven’s arms persisted despite his smooth palms’ attempts to rub them away. An apprehensive boot pushed away wood in the abandoned fire pit only to watch it disintegrate into black dust under pressure. Beyond the glade, the forest was thick and dark and Seven would have to squint to see far even with his ability to see clearly in low light; the trunks of straight, thick trees and bush were just too close together.

“You wouldn’t have seen them coming,” Seven mulled over the words, grasping for something to say when the ghost had finished his sad story. He wanted to reach out and pat the man on the back, and once or twice his fingers would twitch outward at the thought of such a comforting gesture.

Silence festered between them, a silence so genuine Seven could hear the blood rushing past his ears and soon took note of his own breathing, slowed and calculated – in and out, in and out. There was no silence like this within the citadel. A chime passed before Seven broke the black air with a stumbling question. “So, she is … your wife, Lelina, she is here?” Seven turned his entire body as his keen gaze searched the logs, the fire, and the short grass and scattered weeds that sprung up beneath his boots. Was she buried, burned, or left out to rot? Seven’s stomach turned at the macabre possibilities of the woman’s lifeless body, but he refrained from voicing his concern out of respect of the solemn man at his side.

“What horrible comments?” Seven belatedly inquired, as if knowing what the men had said before they took the lives of this man and his wife would lead them to a conviction. The idea of prosecuting someone for a murder by the individual that had been themselves murdered was an interesting thought.

[Archon]

"I should have seen them coming," the man snapped in response to Seven's comment, loathing filling his voice, "I could have protected her, protected us both if I had only seen them there first! If I'd only reacted quicker, or been more clever!" the rage left his voice and form suddenly, replaced by sorrow, and the open gash spilling blood reappeared on his neck, "If only I'd been better my Lelina wouldn't have had to endure such horrible things..." Ghostly blood spilling from his neck wound in a ghastly showing, the man seemed content to stand there in silence for a time. Even when Seven spoke again the man was slow to respond, as if reluctant to give up the silence, "She should be nearby... They didn't drag her far away before they started to," the man suddenly halted with a shudder, apparently unwilling to give voice to what had happened. Seven's question drew the man's gaze, and Seven could see pain, sorrow, rage, and horror all trapped in his brown eyes. He stared at Seven for the space of several breaths before he finally spoke, his voice flat and dead and his eyes growing distant, "They said... They described what they were going to do to her. How they would take her to Ravok and sell her as a slave, or maybe how they'd keep her for themselves so they could petch her whenever and however they wanted. How they'd cut off her hands and feet, because a petching toy didn't need those..." As the man finished another voice entered the clearing, a rough, drunken, voice that caused the ghostly man to freeze with his eyes wide, "Oi... Whoze out there?" Thanks to Leth's light and his heritage Seven was able to faintly make out a swaying figure in the woods north of the clearing. It was a tall and burly man, definitely bigger than Seven, and from the way the moonlight glinted off of something metallic in his hands it seemed he was armed. After a silent moment the man called out again, "Come 'ere.... So I ken cut ya!"

[Seven Xu]

The sound of the gruff voice froze Seven’s blood and sucked what little color he had from his face. He didn’t even have time to question the existence of another in the inky black woods or rebuke the ghost for putting him in danger before he saw the glinting silver of a blade and the outline of a stumbling, stinking man far larger than he. “Oh petch,” he mouthed between trembling lips and took a few steps backward and out of the clearing. Running seemed like the only option; but his legs had turned useless and stiff and he tripped over the fell log to ungracefully meet the ground, his tailbone painfully absorbing most of the impact. Seven’s gaze darted from the approaching figure to the ghost that had, moments before, recounted a story of his wife being snatched up and defiled and mutilated. If he had less self-control, he may have vomited.

The figure moved blindly, clumsily through the glade as Seven tried his best to soundlessly make his way to his feet, cursing Leth for being so bright, so unbiased and revealing for human eyes to see in the night. It didn’t seem the man, who smelled of alcohol and sweat, had seen the halfblood as Seven ducked beneath the cover of a thick bush and crouched in the musty smell of dead leaves and fallen twigs. A twig snapped beneath his leather boot and Seven bit his lower lip so hard his careless fangs drew blood. Stupid, so stupid, he reached up to attempt to dull the pain on his mouth with a finger before seeking the ghost in the darkness. Maybe the ghost and this man were in cahoots, getting off on dragging innocents into the woods with sob stories of a fallen loved one just to cut up the gullible souls who pitied a solemn face.

And then, as Seven waited for the man to inevitably stumble upon him, crouched behind a thin cover of leaves and twigs with burning knees and a throbbing lower lip he remembered a book. A book he’d read cover to cover many times over as books were scarce outside of libraries and he was lucky to own not one, but two. The book detailed a self-defence art of magic called ‘shielding’; using one’s own djed to extract res and form it into a protective layer tasked with fending off other djed or physical attacks. How did that go? Seven grit his teeth and closed his eyes – meditation. Something he was terrible at, having tried many times and failed to focus his wandering mind, to organize stray thoughts and focus on drawing the very life out of his small body.

Seven was not strong; he had little idea on how to fight to defend himself – a kick to the groin, a naive bite containing venom only potent enough to dissolve thin skin on fruit, and that was it. If he could manage to shield his body from that glimmering, taunting knife gripped between thick and dirty fingers he may be able to outrun the man and find safety in a passing knight. Trembling, knees crying out in the burn of his squatting position, Seven drew in long, deep breaths and attempted to calm his mind.