Closed Trekking through the fog of moodiness (Vinn)

[Brandon Blackwing]

The 56th of Spring 514AV


Per usual, the bat was on a stroll through the crystal city, something he did very often and enjoyed quite a bit. It wasn’t a special or expensive hobby of his, not even an eccentric activity, and yet he was fond of his walks. The rhythm of the pace lulled his conscious into a state of half sleep, his actions controlled by his subconscious mind only, his autopilot so to speak. Awareness of his surroundings he did not have, images, sounds and scents were registered by the respective senses responsible for it, but were not remembered. The thief’s mind had retracted into a shell, one where it could muse about all kinds of random thoughts that bubbled up, until the shell cracked and the consciousness snapped back and got to work for a brief period again. Then it retreated into the newly constructed shell once more and after a while it would awaken, only to drift of again. An endless circle, one that repeated itself always on his strolls. That was what he liked about it actually, time to mull over anything he wanted, finding solutions for recent problems and making plans for future jobs. One could say that the bat’s brain worked at full capacity while he walked, relaxed and without stressing about anything, not even about the rain that fell from the clouds for a couple of chimes before letting the sun goddess’s smile reach the surface dwellers.

What was different from his ordinary hikes however, was that he had a goal, a purpose with this one. There was a place he wanted to reach, a river that could be seen from the bridge that connected the Sharai and Shinyama peak, the river which too was rumoured for the wonderful waterfalls that could be seen from that connection between the peaks. Or maybe he’d go to the Trail of Waterfalls? Well, for the purpose of washing himself, that would probably the best choice, only for the reason that he couldn’t swim and that the Trail was rather shallow compared to the river. Either way, it didn’t matter since he had to take the same route to get there anyways. Well, in fact there were multiple paths to take to the Trail as it meandered through the whole of the Misty Peaks, but he was already taking the way that used the main gates and turning back would only make his trek longer.

Close to the gates he was already, he could see the elaborate etchings on the Amaranthine Gate from here, vague but visible, and so too were the guards stationed there. Their presence alone made the thief tense up a bit, parts of his body itching with the warning of sweat. Act normal, he advised himself, act like any regular person and everything will be fine. Whatever suspicions they might have on me, they can’t arrest me with that as foundation, otherwise they’d have done so already. Reassured by his own mind, he managed to pass through, even nodding the guards in greeting, though he felt that he had a hard time moving as fluent as usual. For one reason or another his legs felt as if they were wooden sticks and his behaviour was faked, well it was, but it felt as if it was apparent to all that he was faking it. Nonsense, hopefully.

The ledge narrow and long was the next trial he had to pass, one that was easy enough if one wasn’t afraid of heights. With Brandon being a Kelvic born with wings, there was no problem at all, or there shouldn’t have been, yet it seemed that being in human form up here wasn’t that beneficial for his nerves, the fear to fall and not being able to shift due to his clothes hindering his small form’s escape, imprisoning him and pulling him down before he would be able to free himself. Of course no such thing happened, and before he knew it, he was hiking through the elevating, rocky terrain of the peaks, his destination drawing nearer with each step.

And there it was, the stream that coiled around rocks, snaking through the rough underground, the flow of water- No, this was an elevated path made out of wooden boards, not a stream! The hell? Why did they call it the trail of waterfalls if it was just a walkway of sorts? That was a bummer, maybe he should bathe in the Amaranthine River after all. Or he could just follow the path and maybe, just maybe he might encounter a real stream somewhere. To be honest, he’d never been here, at least not in this part of the peaks on this path. He had been using the Tranquil Port end to get into the peaks lots of times, but he’d never realised that it was in fact the Trail. He’d just assumed that the Trail of Waterfalls was a small river. Of course he’d gotten wind of it once or twice, he’d heard people drop the name, but like stated before, he’d never realised that it was the walkway. Like his mother always used to say; “The only thing that is safe to assume, is that nothing’s safe to assume”. Once again she was right, even though her statement didn’t make sense, paradoxical as it was, but it the meaning of the words was as true as the fact that Kalinor was located underground.


c

Credit goes to Ollic

[Vinn]

56th of Spring, 514 AV
The Misty Peaks

“Petch this, petch that, petch the whole petching world.”

“Why petch the world?”

“Petch it because it’s petching stupid.”

“Why is it petching stupid?”

Vinn had been at a consistent gait for the past and a half, mindlessly talking amongst herself. She had left her apartment with a frown on her face and with a mind shrouded with dark clouds. She had no inspiration for the day, no hope and no courage to pursue in achieving said hope.

She was a passionate woman. She always had been, but when days like this fell upon her like a waterfall of stones, it was hard to take those large breaths of air that were needed. She craved insight and imagination. She hated feeling under the weather mentally and when those emotions affected her emotionally, it took a toll on not only herself, but others that happened to be around her.

She had no destination plotted out at that moment. She was just meandering about through town, scanning the sky for ideas, drifting her eyes across buildings in terms of seeking any sort of spark of intelligence. She came up empty handed. Well, there was an infinite amount of things to draw or paint, but her attention span was short sighted, cut by a pair of incredibly sharp sheers. She had no patience, and with her mind drifting in and out of the state of reality, there was no time for logical thought or realistic perception. She was on a roll in the land of the surreal. She was trapped in between concept and design and how the two worked hand in hand with one another.

She had always admired art and the way it symbolized the wonders of the human mind. She wasn’t racist, more adamant about her opinions. She felt that humans create art better, using it to their advantage in a way that other races could not. She felt that until she met someone who could do it better than her, who was not of human decent, she would rethink her theory over.

She stopped herself short suddenly, realising how silly she had just been only two seconds ago. Had she really been dwelling on the fact that she thought humans were better artists when she, herself was a hybrid. To her knowledge, she held no sense of pure human within her, for her mother had been a Symenestra and her father had been a Vantha.

She shook her head, pouting in the slightest. “Whatever,” she fumed. “My statement still stands.”

“Do you still think this is a petching world?”

“Yes,” she retorted. “I still think this is a petching world.”

A few blurs of colours passed her by, sending a shock of surprise rippling through her skin. Where was she and how had she ended up near the edge of town? Why was she facing towards endless leaves and overgrown shrubbery? Her mind reeled with the possibilities as to how she had just managed to trample through the town. Each time she came up with hilarious events. One included crashing through a couple ready to kiss. Another included flying overhead, passing birds in the speed she was gifted with. However, the latter didn’t seem as believable, so she simply shook it off as if it had never crossed her mind.

She was torn between returning the way she had come and venturing out into the wilderness that had been bestowed before her. Her hands itched, the back of her neck started to sweat. She wanted more than anything to see what was in the midst of all those leaves, but she was also wary about the consequences she could pose to herself. Besides, what kind of inspiration was there out there anyways?

A slap to the forehead. She could have kicked herself right then and there, but she didn’t. “Petching idiot. That’s what you are, no?” There was bound to be tons of adventure, tons of inspiration and tons of creativity plastered throughout those woods. It was more than welcoming. It was pretty much inviting her with an open embrace.

She practically ran into the woods, losing herself in the vast amount of knowledge that wasn’t really there. She didn’t even recognize the trail she started to follow, the one of wood before her attention was drawn elsewhere. A small rock, one perfect for a round arse to sit upon, was located to the right a few yards, hidden partially behind a small tree. She took it, vehemently yanking the backpack off of her shoulder and setting it onto the forest floor. She retrieved her flask from the inside, immediately taking a few large sips from it. She scrounged around inside, pushing aside a few things that weren’t needed for the time being. Finally she found what she needed. She pulled out her sketch book and the ink stick that accompanied it. Her rear had connected with the surface of the rock in such an intimate way she was confused by the sudden arousing feeling. It was so comfy!

Without even rolling up her sleeves, she got right to it, taking the ink stick so that it hovered over the blank page she had turned to with such grace. She closed her eyes for a mere moment before opening them again, fresh irises wavering over a canvas or white. She was about to make the first mark when a sound to her right caught her off guard.

“What do you petching want?” she shouted in the direction of the noise. She didn’t even look up, having no knowledge that a man was standing barely an arm’s length away from her.

[Brandon Blackwing]

Fortunately, after the bat had followed the path into the wilderness for a couple of chimes, he found a space that would suffice for the activity he had planned today. Right next to the walkway were a bunch of rocks, in the middle of the green spread by the trees and other sorts of flora dominating this place. The rocks were rather large and scattered over the area, with a small spring bubbling up in the middle of them. Most likely it wouldn’t be a hot spring, though there were some situated throughout the peaks, but it was still quite useful to the bat, hot or not, any puddle looking shallow enough could be used to bathe in, the only requirement being that it wasn’t the hiding spot of any kind of dangerous predator.

That didn’t seem to be the case, but caution was required, seeing as he found himself in the wild right now, and when one wasn’t cautious in such places, Dira would soon come greet that individual. It was then that he heard the footsteps drawing nearer, the wood of the walkway knocking under the weight of the person it carried, too far away to be sighted as of yet, the Trail meandered through a forest with greenery that hid the approaching creature, at least for now. In itself, that was no strange occurrence, it was a popular route to take when wandering into the peaks, though one could never be certain in an environment as this. In his city of birth, Kalinor, he had heard tales about the vicious and merciless winged hunters know as Zith, he’d even seen a few during his stay, never clearly always vague, but still. And there were the Sym’s themselves too of course. Though weak and frail of body, they were not to be underestimated, agile and uncatchable as the wind. Dangerous, deceiving, haughty creatures. Every other race than their own was considered lesser, his mother had taught him, people were to be always suspicious of the spiders, else nasty surprises waited around the corner.

While the footsteps echoed loudly in his superior ears, the thief decided that for now the best option was to hide and see what or who was closing in, friendly, hostile or guard. The last option was one he least wanted to run into, he’d rather have to fend off a wolf trice as tall as himself then to get caught by the Shinya, stripped from his freedom. Thus, he crouched down and softly moved to the side of the path, his fingers wrapping around the edge and letting his body descend, dangling below. But that was not enough, staying like that would cause great strain on his fingers and he wouldn’t last long before dropping down on the ground, merely a couple of inches here. It seemed that it was built over a small canyon, at this location anyway, and therefore the space under the path was far greater here than anywhere else.

The thief kicked his legs and feet forward while one of his arms shot forward too, fingers penetrating the space between the bars with which the path was constructed, grabbing it and stopping the movement. His other hand followed suit, his body was now completely obscured by the Trail and faced the direction the footsteps weren’t coming from. Then he swung his legs up again, aimed at a bar that was used to elevate the structure. By making his ankles overlap, the thief managed to grab the pole, his eyes narrowing with pain as flesh collided with wood. Then he started moving again, retracting his fingers out of the gap and placing them in another one, doing the same with his other hand and repeating it a couple of times until his head almost touched the pole opposing the one his feet were anchored on to. By now they had sled down a little, not helping in keeping his body right beneath the walkway. Thus the thief undid the overlap of his ankles, still keeping one foot hooked behind the pole while placing the other on it, his head now pressing into the other pole. The same happened with the other foot and the pressure increased, hurting quite a bit, but it allowed him to free one hand to grab the bar that hurt his head, redirecting the pressure through his hand, the other one joined soon.

Quite the uncomfortable position to hang in, but the bat managed, his arms trembling, elbow in an angle of ninety degrees, the effort making droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead. The footsteps had stopped by now, and through the gaps of the path the bat could see a shape, curvy so a woman was the most likely assumption. She stepped from the path, deciding whether making herself comfortable on one of the rocks -at the same side his head was located, at the side of the puddle- or not. Well, it didn’t seem as if she was looking for him, seeing as she hadn’t continued walking onwards, unless of course this was a trap. However, there was no way he could avoid the woman, he wouldn’t last much longer. Once again he placed his head against the pole and grabbed the bars that made up the surface of the walkway, this time at the edge but a little towards the left so he wouldn’t collide into the pole if he bended his knees and let go of the pressure. That was what he did next.

Dangling underneath the Trail only by using his fingers once more, the strain of his arm muscles increased as he proceeded to haul himself up, as quiet as possible, not wanting to be noticed by the woman, who wasn’t seated that far away. Less than a meter actually. But she was searching for something in a thing that looked like a bag, at the other side of her, so this was his chance. First his forearm and elbows came up, and then everything went more or less smoothly. Within half a chime he stood on the surface of the walkway again, his arms feeling dead. It was at that time he was noticed, while he was turning around in order to face the spring, his boots making hollow noises when connecting with the wood. A harsh sounding question filled with irritation was flung towards him, while her eyes didn’t leave the paper.

Well, at least it wasn’t a trap set up for him he’d have been a goner sooner otherwise. “Me?” he spoke, a little annoyed with the rude way she’d asked “I don’t want anything from you.” Even though she was a female of above average beauty, on Brandon’s scale, he had never given anyone the right to speak to him in an manner such as she had without reason, without having even acknowledged who she was talking to, without even trying to come across as more or less friendly. That was not the way you were supposed to treat people without a reason to. He frowned and took off his vest, bandolier with daggers and shirt, his voice a little muffled because of that. “But may I point out that I was here first and that your attitude isn’t desirable in my presence right now. Go be a pest somewhere else, be someone else’s trouble and don’t ruin my mood with your attitude!” The bat himself had all reasons to be unfriendly, as he had already said, she’d just ruined his mood with her voice, and far and foremost with the emotion she’d expressed with it. Whether it was that or just because he’d been annoyed with the presence of someone else when he wanted to be alone for a while, was unknown. Not that he needed privacy because he was about to bathe, but just because he didn’t want to get interrupted and probably because he wasn’t really tolerant when having been awake for more than thirty bells straight, and even the tiniest thing that frustrated him was enough to set his temper aflame, which had just happened. Yet, to turn it into a blazing fire more was needed, if she’d leave no without comment, it would smother itself. If she’d leave.
c

Credit goes to Ollic

[Vinn]

56th of Spring, 514 AV
The Misty Peaks

He took her by surprise, sending her into a turmoil of guilt and anger. How dare he sneak up on her like he did! He could have given her a heart attack without trying. It made her fume at the thought of being vulnerable, taken advantage of over her inactivity to become self-aware.

But then she let a small smirk toy with her lips. “So, we’re playing that game, aye?”

The way he mentioned claiming the particular spot she was sitting as his made her laugh inwardly. There were bound to be other boulders to lounge on, yet he was adamant about staking this specific one for himself.

She didn’t even bother to address his rather aggravating comment about being a pest. She shook it off as she ran her fingers through her hair, the ink stick still grasped between her index finger and her thumb. It made a black streak appear, marring the blonde of her dyed locks.

“Well if ya want’d this spot so bad, why din’t you take it ‘for I sat down?” But a more important question bubbled up to the surface, demanding to be paid attention to. “Where’d you come from?”

Men, always sneaking around both physically and emotionally. They wound themselves around women’s heart strings, tampering with things that seemed important and plucking ones that seemed inessential. She couldn’t help but grimace. It was latent and not visible to anyone but herself.

"You be sneaking around like snake."

She had never found men attractive. She wasn’t one for the opposite gender. She had always found women appealing and the way they said things, the way they moved. This conversation with this man that she was having right now? It was like fighting with a little brother.

She smirked again, looking up at the man and starting to take in his visual features. He had stark black hair and eyes that resembled coal. His face was unshaven, his hair messy and unkempt. He looked disheveled and the way his shoulders were slumped gave her vast assumptions.

Is he tired? Did he just get done lifting something heavy? Is he hungry? Why is his face look so forlorn? Why is he out in the middle of no where? Why am I out in the middle of nowhere? She didn’t much care for the answers, but curiosity almost always found itself to the brim of her emotion cup, filling it to the top until it poured over. She could feel the foam sliding down the sides of the glass as she continued to observe him.

She had half a mind to start sketching him, right then and there, and so she did. She shot her head down, not bothering to hear a response, although one ear was still listening attentively. She gripped the ink stink in between her fingers tightly and raised her elbow so that it hovered over the blank book with mild ease.

“You,” she said. “have given me an idea.”

[Brandon Blackwing]

OOCSorry for the delay. Also, sorry for the rather sloppy post.

Of course, his demand for her unwanted company to disappear was met with refusal, the woman didn’t move at all, her facial expression one of rebellion against everything and anything, most of it aimed at the bat. Her reply was one that confused him slightly, she spoke of the spot she was sitting at, but that hadn’t been what Brandon had meant to say. Any other day he’d have sighed and calmly explained that there was a misunderstanding, even grinning all the while, but not today. On the contrary, the corners of his mouth pointed down and patience had left him.

“Like I care about your stupid rock! For all I am concerned you can have it, take it home if you are so obliged, but leave me at peace, you Godsdamned …. wench!” The delay on the last word came from the inability to find a fitting insult, but when he’d found one, a random one at that, he spat it out as if it were the most disgusting thing in the world. The inquiry that had left the blonde with the razor styled hair’s lips was ignored, lost in the array of words that had left his. The bat hadn’t understood the question because of that, but the fact that that meant that he wasn’t being listened to pissed him off.

Actually everything about the girl did. Her presence, her voice, her spiky hair, everything. And there was no real reason for that, but that was just the way things were sometimes. Mood was something strange, something that could or could not be easily swayed, depending on the mental state of the subject. Insomniacs didn’t have such a stable one, but still today was an exception. It was quite rare he was this moody, however, it hadn’t been great the days prior either. Sometimes, stuff that had happened quite a while ago drifted back up, influencing his behavior and temper.

One could state that Brandon was at the level of a child when his temper was lost, starting with verbal hostility at first, but physical depending on the circumstances, and when things didn’t go as he wanted them to, when shouting didn’t help, he resorted to other tactics, such as violence or when he was not actually mad but just annoyed or frustrated, like now, he would ignore them, or try to anyway. The latter was perhaps the most childish of them all, maybe the only one.

Therefore, he didn’t respond when she compared him to a snake, keeping silent, averting his gaze and focusing on the spring that was in front of him. Only when the stick she had been holding scratched the paper, creating noises that floated into his ears, he reacted by swiftly glancing in her direction, black lines on paper could be seen. As well as one in her short hair, messy and blond, but not her natural colour. His tired orbs could see the roots of which the thin locks sprouted, and those were white, almost like snow, but a shade darker. A single spot in her hair was of natural colour, yet it made her look quite goofy, as if she’d forgotten to dye it. Ha, it was quite ridiculous, a smirk emerged on his face, though the malice contained within it was apparent to all.

The thief continued stripping, his boots were taken off and then his pants too. Stark naked he stood on the walkway, bending over to grab the clothes and possessions he’d placed on it. One more look was thrown at the haircut of the girl and again a grin formed on his features. One last try to get her out of here, he placed his clothes on a boulder when he stepped off the walkway and onto the rocky surface around the spring. “You know, if you dye your hair you have to do it properly. You seem to have forgotten a spot right here.” Bran circled around the place the discolouration would have been on his own head with his finger while he spoke, his voice full of hateful tones.
c

Credit goes to Ollic

[Vinn]

56th of Spring, 514 AV
The Misty Peaks

She constructively began to sketch his outline, starting with the head. She drew a well-rounded circle, yet made the chin more prominent than the rest of the shape. She crafted the cheeks, the neck and as seldom as she did, she made sure the nose was adamantly pronounced as well.

She sat back to observe, clucking her tongue and visualizing what else it was she wanted to add. He was a fine model, she couldn’t deny this. However, when it came to ‘well-dressed’ and ‘looking healthy’, she couldn’t not argue. Nonetheless, she continued to draw.

She sculpted his facial features, digging the stick of ink into the paper and contaminating it with the dark magic of art. She traced his eyes over the image she portrayed in her mind. She dimmed the spark in his eyes, shading around his eyebrows and giving him a more sinister appeal.

She smiled, but her smile faltered for a mere moment as an insult came blundering at her head on.

“Like I care about your stupid rock! For all I am concerned you can have it, take it home if you are so obliged, but leave me at peace, you Godsdamned …. wench!”

She wasn’t one for intense hostility. Sure, she loved a fight every now and then, but it wasn’t like she was out to make enemies on a whim of personal desire. She liked arguments and tussled with few people every now and again, but right now it seemed like the two had gotten off on the wrong foot.

“You can have it if you’d like,” she said, but then added quickly, “when I’m done with it.” She forced a smirk up onto her lips then. “I don’t think my room will allow such a big piece of furniture now will it?”

She tried her best to neglect paying attention to the insult. She wasn’t a wench. She wasn’t anything but her individual creative self and there wasn’t anything that was going to get her down about that. She might be special, but she wasn’t special in that way, shape nor form.

Vinn wanted to spout out assumptions and observation, insults of her own, yet she kept her mouth shut. She sewed it closed, and ditched the needle in the bushes. No matter how much she wanted to yell at him, ‘someone slept on the wrong side of the bed this morning’, or ‘cat bit your arse?’ she didn’t. She kept it inside, concealed it from the outside world.

She wasn’t good at it, but she was going to have to try.

It didn’t register in her mind until she glanced back up at the man, detaching her attention from her work. He was all there, as in nude. She giggled silently to herself, her face contorting absentmindedly, showing all signs of hilarity in both emotion and expression. She forced the corners of her lips downwards, but they wouldn’t go. They were forever plastered upwards, rejecting their master’s orders.

He walked around her, but she maintained eye contact with him at all times. He was still angry, and she didn’t know how people handle such interactions in a city like this. It was beautiful, she had no disagreement there, but the people might not be so.

“You know if you dye your hair you have to do it properly. You seem to have forgotten a spot right here.”

His tone of voice slipped her grasp of consciousness. Her thought process diverted into the past. She saw images of her mother, her father of which she couldn’t see and her mother’s personality danced like a ballerina on her brain.

“I tried,” she said, changing the pathetically enraged aura that surrounded her. Her voice was softer, defining more so as a somber mood. As quickly as it came, exiting her mouth in thick waves of despair, she lodged them back inside. She heighted her voice by a few octaves and tilted her head to the side, watching the man and his male physic.

She sketched the outline of his entire body in full, mesmerized by how wonderfully proportioned he was. The gods ‘ave gifted him wi’ somethin’, she thought to herself.

Her hand continued to caress the canvas of which was no longer blank. It was marked with her signature artistry. She shaded in the regions she found darker on his person and even highlighted at his more personal regions.

She sighed. He wasn’t going to mind, or if he did, she was going to make him not mind. If anything, she would ditch the piece of paper later, or give it to him as a sign of her ferocity.

“I tried,” she continued. “It’s like a scar. Won’t go ‘way no matter how hard I try.”

Just to lighten the mood with her childish arrogance, she made sure to force something immature out into the air once more. “Are ya jus’ gonna stand there ‘n show me yer stuff or are ya gonna wash?”

oocYour fine! =)

[Brandon Blackwing]

No matter how grumpy he might have been, how hard he had tried to push her away, to make it clear that she wasn’t wanted here, it didn’t help. The girl stayed where she was, watching him, and no desired reaction came. If there was one thing that was the most frustrating and annoying thing ever to frustrated people who were or looking for a fight or just trying to make clear that they wanted to be alone, it were people who kept their cool, and didn’t react, who were objects that the fire of rage couldn’t consume just to die out a little while later. People who thought they could quench it by ignoring, by not letting themselves get burned. That was a complete misunderstanding, those were the people pouring oil on the flames by mistake. She should have left, if it were not for Brandon’s semi-reasonable and exhausted state.

Because of that, the anger burning in the shimmering of his onyx orbs faded, no more substances to feed on were left, he didn’t have the energy required to argue or continue fighting, or maybe to even start, since the previous was hardly worth considering a row. Always bickering due to a bad mood, it was tiring, so he reached out for the ignore strategy. All things considered, he was actually too tired for any kind of interaction right now, maybe if his mood improved, yes. Thus even the soft-spoken, with sadness laced couple words did not receive a reaction, which was remarkable seeing as it were this kinds of remarks that he found interesting and that he jumped at the chance to learn more. Not now however. He listened but no questions came, no comments were made, only silence hung in the air around them, a barrier where sound was prohibited, yet outside of it birdsongs could be heard.

And then, her voice sounded anew, a playful tone whirling around it, a comment about his unclothed state was made. The thief merely grumbled, still not very pleased with …. Well, everything. “Got a problem with it?” he asked in a way telling her that a reply wasn’t what he wanted to hear, that he only wanted to hear the quiet. “I was here first, as stated before, so if you don’t like it, piss off!” The humor that had decorated the girl’s comment was neglected completely. No surprise, given the fact that he was rather straight to the point and curt today. Ah insomnia, what you could do to a man full with playfulness …

But the reminder of why he had come here was one he had needed, also having forgotten he was naked already. The bat snorted and stepped forwards, the spring coming nearer and the clear water reflecting the sunlight in sparkles. Crouching down, a hand was extended towards the surface, gauging the temperature. Cold. Well, this wasn’t a hot spring and it was located in the peaks, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, nor as something unexpected but still Bran seemed to deem it worthy of grumbling and mumbling about while he shook off the droplets clinging to his hand. He then put in a foot, slowly going down while he grabbed the edge of a rock tightly in order not to fall in should it be too deep to stand, swimming being something he was not able to do. Water could be quite treacherous, even if the bottom of the spring could be seen and it seemed shallow enough.

It was indeed shallow, the surface hugging him just above his bellybutton, the cold spreading fast and his muscles tensing to counter it. Soon enough though he got used to it and relaxed, letting his body sink deeper, elbows and upper arms serving as a means of support out of the water, resting on the edge. His face was directed to the sky, his eyes closed and breathing with slow but steady breaths, nothing existed but him and the small spring.

c

Credit goes to Ollic

[Vinn]

56th of Spring, 514
The Misty Peaks

She shook her head, stifling a laugh between her tongue and her teeth. “I ain’t got a problem with it,” she announced in response. In fact, it gave her a better figure to work with.

She immediately started working again. She ceased drawing his face and focused more of her attention on his body. She outlined his shoulders, how broad they were, and she drew lines in opposing parallelism to them as she made his waist. She moved her hand down as she stroked his hips and then his legs.

She made sure her wrist wasn’t smudging the paper by looking at her posture every few chimes. He was a brilliant model and she appreciated his relatively slow movements. He didn’t move much, actually, which gave her a better view of figuring out a pose for him.

She decided to work with the simple distinguished, yet playful look, one she would see in older brothers when they were acting towards their young siblings.

This reminded her of something that was happening right now. The steam had subsided, relieving both individuals of the hazardous lack of vision. He was still moody, she as well, but the two had found some sort of boundary lines of which both shouldn’t cross.

Soon his lower body vanished, shrouded by the liquid of the lake beside her. She frowned, but wasn’t reluctant in finishing up the flourish she always added to his genitals. She had them in her mind, and wouldn’t let them go until she succeeded in completing her work.

She went back to his shoulders, creating dashes and faded lines where his collarbones were and his neck muscles. They strained as he spoke, but she sighed, realising that other people probably had the same affect when they spoke.

“You like the wilderness?” she asked nonchalantly. She wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but she wanted the feud to die off completely between them. She didn’t intend to make enemies, it just sort of happened.

“I come out ‘ere ta draw. Well, I do now. I’m still new ta this city ‘n all, but it seems nice.”

oocSorry for the wait!

[Brandon Blackwing]

Cold water could be quite relaxing actually, it was so … good to let it envelop his body and purifying him –that’s how it felt anyway. It was freezing at first and his body had trembled and told him to get the hell out of the puddle, but his stubbornness had been rewarded with the feeling of utmost relaxation. Once one got used to the temperature, it was indeed very pleasant, he could just close his eyes and fall asleep right here, right now. But that would result in his drowning so he didn’t risk it. His upper body needed washing too, not only his lower, he sighed.

Reluctant to do so, the bat detached his arms from the rocks, his body sinking into the water where his feet supported him, the slimy rocks on the bottom slippery. Standing upright the water only reached his bellybutton, so he crouched lower, his chin touching the surface, his chest having to get used to the cold. It attuned to it faster because a part of his body already was immune to it, and as soon as it happened the thief ducked and disappeared under the mirror of water. Not something he could do without worry, yet the spring was shallow, so he guessed that he would not drown just like that.

Instinctively his eyes sealed themselves shut, the cold of the liquid cooling his head and clearing his mind. It was pleasantly quiet here, the sounds that existed strange and twisted, longer and slower. Weird, but nice too. Time itself seemed to flow here differently as well, slowing down to a crawl while bubbles escaped his lips. And then his air ran out, his lungs empty. At first there was panic, not having realised that he had been holding his breath –again, he never got used to being underwater- he now realised with a terrified opening of his eyes that he was in fact suffocating, or on the brink of. The surface was right above him, he saw the rays of sunlight piercing through the clear liquid, his body started moving and with much more force than needed he breached the flat line with a splash of tiny droplets.

Blowing the streams that ran from his long and wet mane away, he stroked his locks backwards, clearing his vision. Good, now that he had been cleansed it was time to get out the puddle and dry up a bit. A towel he had not brought, some things were just too easy to forget, but there was no need for one. The sunshine would do just as well while he sat on one of these rocks. Brandon climbed the nearest and rested on the top, one leg dangling down, the other foot on top of it, knee pointing upwards and supporting an arm.

“Do I like the wilderness, you ask? I guess I do. Sometimes, I like the absence of people, the pressure drops and the rush fades. It’s quiet, no-one’s around … Yeah, I do like it. An excellent place to hide from civilisation.”

As she stated that she did too, and that Lhavit seemed nice, the thief realised she was new to it, mostly because she said so herself. “Ah yes, Lhavit’s nice …. Not much crime going on, a place quite safe. There isn’t much to worry about, apart from the occasional mage running amok, or a fight between drunks.” A chuckle escaped his lips and a shiver of cold ran down his spine. Syna could hurry it up, it was getting rather cool, the wind didn’t help either. “By the way, what are you drawing?” In his attempts to ignore her, the bat hadn’t seen what the lines on her paper formed, only the act of putting them on the white rectangle.

c

Credit goes to Ollic

[Vinn]

56th of Spring, 514 AV
The Misty Peaks

Vinn admired the way he moved. It was pristine and evident of intention. She gazed at him as he stepped into the water, her mind reeling with ideas and concepts as to how she could incorporate this action into her drawing.

She let her head drop to her paper and began to outline a puddle. She drew the rippling marks of the puddle as he fell deeper and deeper into the aqueous substance. She sketched the waves as she saw them and then started to add more detail, smudging the paper so that it didn’t seem as harsh.

She watched him again, observing how he strode into the pool and how he let his chin touch the surface. She drew that too, only not below his chin, for she had not started with this position. It was hard to draw someone who kept moving and she was beginning to grow frustrated. However, she had never asked him to be her model; therefore she couldn’t hold her anger against him. It was her fault for taking hold of something that was from a whim of creativity. It wasn’t his fault per se, although, her mentality took it as soon.

She bit her lip, attempting to hold back her interjection. She was near close to shouting for him to stop moving and just relax when she rectifying the issue by chewing on the inside of her cheek instead.

Her ears perked up when he mentioned an answer to her subtle question. He liked the wilderness because of the serene tranquility. Such would she have answered if asked a question of similarity. She didn’t intervene on his explanation by mentioning her thoughts on the outdoors, but instead continued to draw.

Suddenly the man asked her a question of which bewildered her into shooting straight up, her back forming a perfect adjacent line to the earth she sat above.

She shrugged, keeping it cool. For some strange reason, she felt caught in the act of some thievery or some form of treason. She wanted to rip her paper to shreds and throw it into the lake so that it would never be recovered and examined. She hated feeling like this, although she did nothing wrong in terms of deserving it.

Instead of lying, she fessed up, but not in a way of defeat. No, she was too good for that. She continued to hold the higher ground, or tried to.

“I’m drawin’ you,” she said, but she did not show him her work. “You look good without pants on.”

She smirked at that last comment before readjusting herself on the boulder. She was about to flip to a new page as to draw something else, a tree perhaps, but decided against it. If he was curious, let him be. She had nothing to hide.

However, she tried to change the subject. She was humble about her work, and frankly, she thought she was a terrible artist. This was why she never liked someone else looking at what she did. Strange isn’t it? A tattoo artist to be, but someone to refuses to display their art.

“But ya kept movin’,” she growled from under her breath. Wrong turn. She needed to keep the conversation in a light and friendly mood. She didn’t like discord between two parties.

“Why don’cha cover up? Most people I know don’t flaunt themselves like ya do. I mean, it’s fine wit’ me ‘n all, jus’ strange,” she said, trying to cover up the insult that attempted to burst through the façade. She was prone to causing turmoil, and loathed the ability to naturally do so.

“Yer different than the rest, ain’cha?”