Location [Syliras Location] Kova's Wishing Well

[Gossamer]

Description: No one knows where the stones came from. Rumor has it that they were somehow salvaged from Suva on that fateful day when Ivak turned the world asunder as he unleashed his grief and rage over Kova's death. The only thing folks know for sure is that sometimes the ghost of a woman - a woman of great beauty - appears to those that toss in a coin and make a wish. Sometimes she speaks, sometimes she does not, but regardless to those sincere in their needs - the ghost changes their lives. It might be for the better, or it might be a curse. It all depends - on who and what situation it is. As for the well itself, Kova's Wishing Well is a simple singular construction of patterned stone with a large sturdy frame supporting its crank and bucket. Sometimes, in the summer, a kindly soul will hang flowers from within it - reminding people not to drink from its waters - for they are strange and littered with coin. But they can make wishes, and some do... out of curiosity or out of desperation. The spirit will help a few, sometimes, if it can.

This location is moderated by All Syliras Staff Please feel free to post an introduction post and toss in some coins here, but then please PM the moderator for a thread.

[Ash'eny]

Date: Day 28 of Summer, AV 510

Six days, that's all it was. Six days since Ash'eny had been caught in a swirling pathway towards insanity. His morals had been conflicted ever since that damned knight spoke to him. Ash'eny would have been just as well, fine, normal, unchanged, if that man would have done his job and chased him out of town. But no, it wasn't like that. The knight had to have morals as well, he actually betrayed his oath to uphold the law just to help Ash'eny. How completely pathetic. Ash'eny hated that man, Wystern, yet he also respected him, and the strange part was that he couldn't comprehend as to why. Why was it this man that had him pondering, questioning his own motives, wondering on his own choices. Never before had Ash'eny wondered, much less been genuinely bothered, by his choices in life, but now it was tearing him completely apart. Perhaps that's why Ash'eny found himself peering into the darkness of the well. He could have sworn he saw the flicker of the moon somewhere down there, reflecting off the surface, but that wouldn't have made sense, since the angle simply didn't work for that. It was desperation, everything that was happening. He had heard rumors of a wishing well, and in his desperation, he followed the stories to its origin. It was desperation that forced his lethargic body to move towards the circular stone structure, it was desperation that had him even hesitating about dropping a coin into that vast darkness. If he had been watching himself only seven days in the past, he would have thought he was being foolish, considering something so ridiculous as throwing away money just to please a rumor about some spectral woman. It wasn't like the rumors were all cheery and grand either, no, it was situational, it depended upon the giver, it depended on Ash'eny himself and what he wished for. Slowly, his left hand was pulled out from under his cloak, the four fingers on his hand (the pinkie was missing for those who don't know) tightly pinching a single golden miza coin as his eyes watched it. It was desperation that pulled his fingers apart and allowed the golden circular currency to tumble into the darkness. There were a few sounds of the coin hitting the insides of the stone wall, but not once did Ash'eny hear the splash of coin against water, not so much as a faint trickle. What was his wish? It was simple, yet complicated. He didn't want money or love or comfort. He wanted to be cured of this problem. What was his problem? He was torn between morality and selfishness, goodness and himself. He wanted to be altered. But that's not a wish that could be granted was it? In fact, Ash'eny was quite certain that wishes were lies, fickle stories told to children to coax them into behaving correctly. Ash'eny, thanks to desperation, was a victim of that lie. How pathetic he felt. Ash'eny, however, could not tear himself from the side of the well, his hand gripped the stone wall tightly, as if he would be sucked straight up to the moon-lit sky if he didn't. His knuckles looked almost painted-white as he stared in the darkness. "Splash. Where's the water? Where's the miza? Where's my splash! Just once, let me hear you splash." Ash'eny felt tears forming a thin layer over his eyes as he began to panic, and he couldn't understand why. He didn't care about the coin or the splashing of the water, he wanted a miracle, a sign that they existed, or at least confirmation that it was a myth, no more, no less. Ash'eny was really beginning to feel crazy, perhaps he was losing it after all. It would suit him.

[Dusk]

The Ghost in the Well Even as Ash'eny feared for his sanity, he heard the sound he was waiting for: infinitely small, heard only between one shuddering breath and the next. A single tear fell from his cheek and disappeared into the darkness, and a moment later the well echoed back the yearned-for splash! * * * Cold creeps across his skin and into his bones, freezing him there against the Wishing Well as surely as a cobra calms a nested bird. The noise of Syliras fades away, the ever-present sound of thousands of people retreating as if it'd never been and leaving only the utter silence one finds in the abandoned places of the world, deserts and icebergs and stranded ships at night. Ash'eny, a voice whispers, soft and feminine and so close he can feel the icy breath brushing his ear. Do not despair, little one, she murmurs, and he feels a cold head settle down on his shoulder, watches as black hair pours over it and down his chest - but it is translucent, glowing faintly in the evening darkness, and the hands that clutch at his cloak are colder than the walls of Avanthal. Despair should come easily when one is embraced by the dead. But something within him settles and calms just as she says, and though she reaches up and traces chilled fingertips across his jawline, there is no panic or fear within him. It is comforting, in fact, though his mind knows it shouldn't be. But each stroke of her hand calms him, until Ash'eny curls his arms down on the wall of the well and lays his head down. Sleep, the ghost whispers, and know that tomorrow, you will find the path you were meant for. She twists a little until she can meet his gaze for the first time, and Ash'eny sees the light of the moon shining through her body. She is beautiful - ivory skin and huge basalt eyes, dressed in flowing white robes. A breeze swirls around her, though it does not seem to tug at Ash'eny's clothing the way it does hers. Most striking, though, is the repetitive cerulean mark etched in her skin, pouring across her cleavage and climbing up one side of her throat to curl into her dark hair. But he can't concentrate on that, because her charcoal eyes catch him once more, and then she leans forward and presses frost-covered lips to his, and the world dissolves into darkness. * * * Ash'eny awoke stiff and cold just before dawn, slumped over the edge of the well with his head pillowed on his arms and tears dried upon his cheeks. His pockets were a few coins lighter, but his heart was calmer, and his dreams were filled with glimpses of pale skin and the feeling of cold against his lips - but that must have just been because he'd slept against the stone of the well, right? Either way, he didn't feel the harsh despair that had weighed him down when he came here. Perhaps he'd just needed a good cry. Silly to have expected a miracle from something so mundane as a well. Surely tears had solved what the gods couldn't.

[Ash'eny]

Ash'eny felt strange, but that was an understatement. Something felt completely unnatural with the whole situation, his situation. He must have looked as crazy as he felt, watching the motionless silent black of the well below him, almost in a screaming panic that the simple sound he should have witnessed did not come. Wait... there it was. Ash'eny listened, as if he knew precisely when that musical echo from below would flood over him, and between one still held breath, the man heard the glorious sound. The water, the coin, colliding, becoming one, becoming forever lost. There was very little sense of relief from this though. It was just a natural occurrence after all. Water splashes when coins are dropped into them, this revelation of gravity working correctly, as his mind should have been, but failed to do so, did not bring peace though, he was still torn in half by himself. Ash'eny waited several more moments as he listened, as if expecting to see a glowing hand in that dark void below him to reach out and grab his face, which is was startled him. He felt his muscles tense up as the color from his hands continued to drain as they clutched tighter and tighter against the cool moist stone wall that was the well. His biceps began to quiver under the strain, yet he could not unlock his grip from the stone, he was frozen! Frozen, yet peaceful. Everything began to fade, the sound, the light, his cares, his thoughts, his past, his future. Ash'eny felt very alone all of a sudden, in a place where nothing existed except himself in one, ever-lasting moment of time, a moment that neither progressed towards a new day, nor was spawned from the previous moment. Just one moment. In one single moment of existence there is no past to regret, no future to fret over, there's just calm, emptiness, loneliness. There was a sound though, it was his own breath, faint, rhythmic, scared, yet calmed. He could smell a chill in the air, but his gaze was locked on the insides of the well, the deep dark quietness. Ash'eny His breath stopped then, his lungs felt like they had frozen over with ice, blocking the very life-sustaining movements of inhaling and exhaling. Part of the man was panicking, yet the majority of him was still calm. His mind told him this was wrong, but his body, his emotion, his heart was relaxed with peace and comfort. Ash'eny continued to experience more and more cold, first, the breath in his ear, the hair on his chest, the head on his shoulder, the hands on his clothing. Ash'eny realized it then, even though his own gaze failed to pull itself from the well, as if denying that the very spirit he longed to see could come from any other place but the well's depths itself. Do not despair, little one. Ash'eny smiled then, as if the voice's command was not to him, but to his very emotions, and each nerve and conscious and subconscious thought obeyed without question, without hesitation. His shoulders lifted slightly as if the very weight of Mizahar was lifted by the specter's cool presence. Then he lowered his head, or his head lowered itself, finally pulling his gaze gently from the well's black pit. 'I suppose she won't come from there after all...' Ash'eny pondered as he was practically sleeping, his thoughts made no sense really, since she was right here, caressing his body, soothing his fears, calming his doubts. The Spirit-Woman moved in front of his resting head so that they could meet gazes, and Ash'eny couldn't even resist the urge to smile. He felt like she was watching over him, guiding him to safety, protecting him. He felt like she actually cared about him, of course it wasn't true though, she wasn't alive to give love, but in that moment, Ash'eny was sharing a moment with her, the Woman from the Well. Captivated wholly by her own eyes, Ash'eny could only watch as she leaned in and kissed him. Ash'eny closed his eyes to embrace the chilling comfort across his face. - - - Ash'eny kissed back, but when he opened his eyes, he saw only the stones of the well, and his lips did little more than brush the wall itself. Moments later he realized the pains on his cheek and nose from where he had been awkwardly resting against said well. He opened his mouth to speak something, but his throat was parched, his voice cracked and all he could manage to do was cough harshly a few times. He grunted lightly as he slowly turned around, pulling his arms from inside the well and resting his back against the well stone wall. He was so tired that he could have very easily fallen asleep again right there. Instead though, he idly rubbed his lips, they were numb to the touch, and it wasn't until he actually prodded them with his fingertips did he realize a thin layer of frost resting upon them. Ash'eny stood up quickly, stumbling faintly as he did so (he found out that his leg was also numb from sleep) and supported himself against the well, peering down inside of it, then quickly glanced around the area. Where was she? Ash'eny felt confusion, curiosity. Who is the woman he met? What's her name? Did she die? He wanted to know, he wanted to talk to her, to ask her so many things, but most of all, know if it was just a dream or not. Part of Ash'eny wanted to believe that it was just that, an illusion made up by his tired mind. But part of him wanted to Believe that such a gorgeous and mysterious woman really did give him his first kiss. Regardless of the truth, Ash'eny knew he would return here, perhaps several times. At least he found his comfort.

[Dusk]

XP Award! Ash'eny Lore Award: Moral dilemmas, Ghostly visions, Unnatural kisses Additional Note Ash'eny's memories of his early years, especially of those events which first prompted his addiction to stealing, have become hazy and vague - not that he has forgotten large chunks of his childhood, just that they've faded and can't be recalled in detail even if he wanted to. Because of this, his feral need to steal has been lessened and is more a compulsion than a full-on addiction. It's something he wants to do, not something he needs to do. You now have a Storyteller's Secret thread. Please be sure to add it to your profile links!

[Ash'eny]

28th Day of Fall, AV 510 Ash'eny had been wandering Syliras a lot these past few days. It was tonight, however, exactly one season since his last visit to the well, that he felt a need to return. Last time, he left with fewer coins, but a hint of joy in his heart. It was that which led him to meeting the artist he foolishly fell in love with prematurely, and now that he had disappeared, he felt the hole ever wider. This was a visit of desperation. Ash'eny peered down into the well, and like last time, he could not see his reflection, nor the surface of the water itself. The night sky was strong, the well was deep. Ash'eny reached into his coin pouch and pulled out five gold-rimmed miza coins. He sighed heavily, money seemed to lose its value in his eyes. Part in carelessness, and part in hope that his apparition would be bribed with more money, he allowed all five coins to drop into the well. There was a moment of silence before five consecutive sounds of object on water was heard. Now he just had to wait, both the phantom's appearance and lack-there-of would have a deep impact on the man at that moment.

[Dusk]

The Ghost in the Well Waiting. So many of life's dangers began with the simple act of waiting. The quiet of the evening stretched out for long minutes. Normal noises of the city were muffled from the quiet of the courtyard where the wishing well stood, the soft droning of nocturnal insects and the occasional call of a nightingale. Eventually the heavy weight of the silence weighed upon him, and he sank to a seat with his back against the cold stones. And, as he had last time, his lids grew heavy and he fell into a fitful sleep - though he needed no ghost to speed him this time. * * * When Ash opened his eyes again, he stood atop the great smokestack of Li Mauta, balanced hundreds of feet above the city of Syliras. He felt no fear at the immense height, felt, in fact, more comfortable here than he likely had in a long, long time. Look around you, a familiar voice whispered, and an icy hand touched his, wove its fingers with his. The ghost of the well hovered beside him, an unfelt wind swirling her dark hair in a cloud around her pale face. Look at what we have built here. And he would see, stretched out below him, the entirety of the city. From here it was easy to see the difference between the Old District and the rest of Stormhold Citadel, the stone used to extend the castle much less weathered than that which was constructed at the city's founding. The docks laid beneath him to the southwest, stretching along a swath of the coast and the only border that was not walled off by the Wall. The First Tier, home of the Dyres family and the upper echelon of the Knights, stood above the oldest corner of the citadel, molded of glittering white marble and tall windows. To the south, the fields of Syliras reached out into the horizon, and to the north rose the cloud-shrouded peaks of the Cobalt Mountains. The cold fingers slid against his as she squeezed his hand, and if he turned to her he would find those same gray eyes shining translucent and silver in Syna's light. You have made no wish, she whispered, reaching out her other hand to cup his cheek.

[Ash'eny]

Ash'eny did turn around, the voice both startled him, yet comforted him once again. It was so familiar, yet so distant. It was both amazing and caring, yet too rare to ever be well known. As the phantasmal woman placed her hand against his cheek, he merely closed his eyes and placed his own hand on hers, or where hers would have been if he couldn't feel her touch. He sighed heavily, nodding faintly in sorrow as she pointed out his mistake. What good was approaching a wishing well if you had no wish to ask for? Ash'eny, however, found himself content just where he was in that still frozen moment, with the woman that was not alive nor dead. "I know not what to wish for. Spirit, I feel empty, broken, distracted. There are powerful people that depend on my services for good, and then there is myself which is neglected. I feel that I need a new path in life, a new calling, something to... fill this hole in my chest. I have twice given my heart to one that has vanished from me, and twice I am broken because of it. I feel a hunger in my stomach to return to the ways I was raised upon. The ways of Sunberth, and even though I know, in my mind, it is wrong, these tantalizing images almost make me happy, almost push the broken heart from thought all together. I feel that I'm not lost, but I am found between a road that branches into two destinies that cannot coexist, the past and predictable future, and another future that has no past from which I can predict an outcome. My lady, I know now that I must wish for my own happiness, if it can be something granted, and if not, I wish for the wisdom to seek out which is required to smile in joy once again." Ash'eny slowly opened his eyes to gaze on the apparition, he was not on the brink of tears, he was dry, but calloused to the point where tears would have been welcomed on his stone-solid sorrowful face.

[Dusk]

Foolish man, the ghost whispered, leaning forward to press her icy brow against his cheek for just a moment, like a kitten nuzzling a kind hand. When she drew back, it was a rueful smile that touched her lips. Do you think a broken heart mends so easily, and without pain? Were it so, it would not mean so much to give your heart away. You are alive, Ash'eny. What you feel is what all living men feel. To crave otherwise is to crave only death. Your past has twisted you, convinced you that the sick pleasures you have known in your past actually made you happy. But you have known happiness since, in the glance of a woman's eyes your way. In the thrill of a job done well. In the satisfaction and pride of having a goal to fulfill and a purpose to serve. To give up all that only to descend into pain and suffering and degradation is madness. But you know this, she said, reaching up to trace a fingertip along his cheek where his skin still burned from her previous touch. You know what is good and what is not - the knowledge you lack is how to go from one to the other without losing your self, without losing who you are. She looked out into the city once more, and reached an corporeal hand out to point towards the city gates. One shall come who needs your help, she murmured, and she will take you far from these shores to give it. You cannot reconcile yourself within these walls, but you will return to them and know they are your home. And I will be waiting, she said, turning to offer him a smile somehow both cold and welcoming, and as he drank in that smile it felt as if her pride in him were a salve on the wounds his heart had taken.

[Ash'eny]

Ash'eny closed his eyes as the specter's coolness rested against his cheek. It was such an odd feeling, finding both a chill and warmth in that moment. It was, regardless, comforting. He reopened his eyes once again to look at the ghost, certain now that she was no figment of his desperate imagination. Twice now she came to him, when he came to her, and never before or otherwise. Ash'eny nodded vigorously as the apparition explained his situation. The heart, which he gave away without restraint, was now wounded. Like a knife submerged fully into a body, he was injured, and like any grievous wound, he needed time to heal. What he was doing, being reckless and destructive, was him trying to cope with pain. The drinking either nullified it briefly, or brought it back painfully. But this, the words of wisdom pointing him in the right path, already felt like a start to ultimate recovery. Would he ever fully love another? Unlikely, but at least there was hope for him to love life once again. "I will always come back to you. As long as my legs can carry me and my heart still beats, I will return to you, seek you out always once again. Thank you." Ash'eny listened to the the foresight of the spirit. She spoke of another coming that would require aid, and he was to help her. Ash'eny wasn't sure what that meant, but he would trust that when the time came, he would not only recognize it, but would remember this moment in time. "Do you have to go now?" Ash'eny knew it was probably time. She shared her wisdom, and he could only assume her time in this world, or however spirits work, for so long.