Solo Ways of the Wicked I

[Altaira Readva]

Bird Speak | Common | Vani | Others
Autumn 1, 514 AV

She half wondered if she’d outstayed her welcome.

It had already been a full season since Altaira had chosen to keep in the Purple Forest. Since she’d almost made herself the apprentice to Calidus, merely refusing to leave and taking rest in the Lavender Ruins themselves, day and night spent as understudy and helper to the Eiyon Priest who kept to the Ghost filled woods.

Her breath was sharp as she kept on the journey from the Ruins themselves to the surrounding forest, seeking the man who she was keen in hope would finally be open to actively teaching her – for up until that point his attitude was closer to the belief that it was she who should stimulate her learning, the fact that her kelvic mind was none near suited to such learning was, perhaps, not properly conveyed to him by the woman.

She could, however, not fault him for his nature. He was her brother in Dira and somewhat considered family of sorts, and he was often quite soft spoken and stoic. Perhaps it was more so his mere personality and disposition that left her to her own self learning? She sighed and moved forward, grip tight on her kopis blade as she pressed through the forest, hacking slightly at the plants and trees that were encroaching on one of the few worn paths through the forest.

As she moved as quickly and quietly as she could muster, a quiet rustling was heard from her flanks.

Her breath held and her heart beat quickly, bringing her rough dagger to a fighter’s stance as she prepared for the possible fight to come. ‘There are usually few animals here – a human perhaps?’ Her thoughts and wonderings did not go without answer, with Calidus himself revealing himself shortly after, his hood covering his features as though weary of a stranger, and eyes a deep wood brown in the morning shade.

“Tell me,” he began, his posture relaxed as he took in the cool, early autumn breeze. “Why was it you chose to stay?” The kelvic would be lying if she said it was not a struggle to hear his words, soft spoken as he was, and she struggled to have her drawing closer appear to be anything but impolite.

“I know very little,” her words wavered and she was unsure of her place to speak, swallowing hard as she gauged her senior’s reactions and expressions. “And I wish to know more, so that I may serve our lady as well as I can manage.” She pressed her lips as she waited for further words, the winds and rustling of the foliage and leaf litter near deafening as her brother’s steel face was caught in consideration.

Then, with a sudden movement, he lurched forward, face as cold as stone as he motioned for the kelvic to follow. “Those who follow our ladyship at your level often find themselves in one of two primary occupations,” the words drummed through her heart and soul. ‘At my level.’ It was a bitter thought, and not one she was keen to hear, but Gods, she knew the only way to lift herself further into Dira’s favour was to life her life for her work and duty, whatever that may be.

“They either deal with the lost souls of ghosts, or they take to the elimination of nuit, sometimes both,” He walked as though he were giving a guide of his own home, every tree and plant and stone seemingly known to him, a point pressed even further so at the cautious look he gave a largely snapped branch.

“Can you tell me why this may be the case?”

She wasn’t expecting a question to be directed at she herself, and she near spluttered into thought and wonder, reminding herself the reasons likely as to why her brother did not wish to explicitly teach her. Eiyons were not known for close quarters – in their service to Dira, many, she heard, sought to understand life through death, and experience and journey so deeply personal it was no wonder they did not find themselves in large congregations.

“Skills, and passions I suppose?” Her own answer came as a question, as she mediated on the man’s own disgust for the rot of nuit, though how his dedication to the ghosts seem to be far more potent. “To connect with the dead in their ethereal form is far different to taking down flesh and rot.”

Calidus gave a slight hum and nod, quietly approving of her words, it seemed.

[Altaira Readva]

Bird Speak | Common | Vani | Others
Autumn 1, 514 AV

"Yes."

Calidus slowed to a halt and shifted his form, allowing his body to rest somewhat on a nearby tree, and for the first few ticks, it appeared as though Altaira was out of luck - he'd not speak any more for her today. "Spiritism is used often in the dealings of ghosts," although the words themselves were in far greater quantity than she usually found herself allowed, the Eiyon gave no greater volume. The kelvic gave no look of disrespect or mild expectation, nodding at the words offered as they rung familiar in her mind.

"However, in time and training, some skills and talents often used on ghosts extend to harm and destroy others that are within our duty - desolate ones." He cleared his throat and examined the trees above, his quick gaze and eye no doubt picking through that which fades and flickers above, working through to determine which was of ghost or wind or light. "I, myself, have such abilities."

Two little words had been spoken and resonated deep in her bones. Those two little words and her ears pricked and spin riveted. Gods knew the expression that was, in that moment, etched into her features. The soft spot she had for ghosts and other poor souls lost from the cycle was known well enough, however the deep seethed repulsion of nuit scum that coursed through her veins was no less prominent, if not more.

She'd seen the man in action, with hundreds of nuits encroaching on his own ruined home, with one powerful scum at he helm of the vile operation. He was a man with whom she looked upon with the greatest respect, his own powers and title leaving her to view only Dira and the other Gods themselves worthy of greater reverence. If he had a single word to spread and speak of that would aid her in her own life's work of serving the Death Goddess, it would be words and wisdom held quite dearly to her heart.

"You understand that our kin do not often linger with one another," he said, with almost a tired tone. Altaira felt indeed that she'd stayed for too long. Although Calidus was a servant of the same Goddess, and welcomed brothers and sisters warmly, the kelvic's presence by his side meant that there was less of Lady Dira's elsewhere. She knew the fact perhaps too well herself - her mind quickly flicking to the words and whispers of the many spiritists she'd seem come and go from the Lavender Ruins. She'd listened far keener to all words of distant cities and disparaging news than she'd have liked to admit. She was, in her own disgruntled way, trying to determine where in the world to take root as Dira's influence upon a region.

"I understand - my own wish for enlightenment by Dira's name is not yours, and my presence here means that it is lacked where it may be needed. I should keep my wits, and stop sharing your duty and seek my own." There was a bitter, matter of fact tone with which she spoke. She didn't wish to admit that her path was one that lacked much companionship - something which she herself yearned for, innate in her kelvic mind. She'd been doing no less of Dira's work in the Purple Forest, with hundreds of ghosts and lost souls, her own work chipping away at the mountain that Calidus had vowed to care for.

"Spiritism is an ancient art, there a ever number ways to approach and take to it. Mine may not suit yours, it is a path you must begin on your own." Altaira gave a solemn nod. Her brother in Dira had already given her more that she deserved, than anyone she felt deserved, and it was with a shameful nod of her head that she rolled her shoulders and stood taller.

The silence sung out for an awkward moment, and she shifted in place as she sought for a word worthy of being spoken. "Three foods from different sources are needed to make soulmist, you know this, yes?" The woman frowned and gave a short nod. The concept was seven kinds of familiar, though perhaps it was more something heard in passing and conversation than a statement told explicitly. 'It would do me well to seek greater company with those that take rest in the ruins.' "Combined with blood, a dough must be made, and kept in the body for some time," the woman nodded, taking each word for law as she laid it in her mind.

[Altaira Readva]

Bird Speak | Common | Vani | Others
Autumn 1, 514 AV

Altaira brought her hands close to her chest, cracking her knuckles absently as a short nod shook her form. "Concentration is what then follows..." she hummed, before giving a slight bow of her head as she motioned for the man to take his leave. "Thank you, I will... heed your advice," she said, hiding the sigh that rolled from her lips, her eyes glued to the rotting, thriving earth below her as she waited for the sounds of her senior to disappear.

Regardless of any way she spoke or held her form - she was, by nature, far simpler in mind and thought that the humans that she shared form with. There were some vast array of emotion and their mixtures therein that she could never hope to understand, and concentration in its purest form was one of such little curiosities with which she struggled to no end.

She rolled her shoulders and set her sights bitterly on the path behind her. The Purple Forest was not misnamed, the number of spirits and the dead that wandered and flitted through the woods surrounding her giving the world that swarmed at all sides a dazzling glow. Her steps back towards the castle were measured and quick, her gaze sliding from tree to stone to plant as she sought all things familiar, the slightly worn path that ran beneath her feet not something that she found herself placing sole trust in.

The kelvic extended a hand as she ran her fingers across the rough wood of the trees that lined the way, finding that the touch of something quite very real allowing herself an anchor and point of reality. In a place so filled with awe and life, it was easy for the kelvic to slip into a daydream. It was, in part, she thought half the reason so many fellow spiritists clamoured to stay and study in the vast and eerie woods. It was beautiful, it teemed with life, and it gave cause to find and wonder the meaning of it all.

Or perhaps she dreamt too much.

A crack of stick and throwing of stone to her far left had her shoulders roll and her form shift to the offensive. Truly alive critters and creatures often avoided the part of the woods that she’d most recently declared home – the ethereal causing some form off-putting to those who drew breath. That, however, did not mean that one would not lurk if grown desperate now that the winter months had ended, and it also did not mean that a hostile ghost itself was out of the question.

She shifted slightly, and it was a horrid creature that she saw. There was a glint to the sides of the person - a man, with clothing drenched and hair matted with earth and blood - and a feeling of sick settlement took to Altaira's form. Fight or flight? Attack or converse? This was why she was so dire in the need of the learnings of spiritism.

She took several breaths, and a single step towards the being, her nerves far better steeled as she reminded herself that the man - or whatever it was in original death - was quite obviously one who wished to cause fear. She'd not let it take a single ounce of power over her. "Any help I can give?" it was a hollow offer through a genuine tone, and the woman took another step towards the man, before he quite swiftly disappeared into the thicket and woods.

[Altaira Readva]

Bird Speak | Common | Vani | Others
Autumn 1, 514 AV

"A problem not meant to be faced today, it seems."

A rolling breath left her lungs as she then pressed on, the path through the woods slowly wearing thicker as she neared the ruined castle itself, batting no eyelash as she then pressed immediately for the kitchens.

‘Work, work, work. I’ve much to do.’

Altaira would have been able to find herself to the small rooms had she never been before- with there quite simply existing only a single path that lead anywhere within the tattered halls. Even with the hundreds of cobwebs and the half dozen nooks and crannies one would think would breed all manner of pest and unwanted beast- but it seemed as though the sheer number of ghosts and ethereal being kept all that drew life and breath at bay.

The soft glow of candlelight shortly came into view, and the kelvic broke into the simple kitchens few ticks later. ‘Egg, flour… milk?’ her memory fled her as she sought to confirm what items she was to seek, and she busied herself to make quick work of gathering the needed items, noting to buy her own next time a trip to Syliras was solicited, replacing what was taken at the earliest convenience.

A bowl itself was then searched for and adopted before Altaira began the hazardous venture of combining the items gathered at the closest cooking bench, her lower lips bitten and brow creased in concentration as she poured what she thought to be a generous amount of flour into the bowl. It took a chime for the kelvic to quite figure out how to properly crack the egg, the woman shattering the shell in an attempt to create a mere crack, the next several moments of her time then spent fishing out several small fragments. ‘Petch.’

As the woman’s hands then moved to the milk, memory struck her, and she shortly returned to the food cabinet in search of a variant. ‘Cheese.’ At the sight of the small, wax covered roll, a glint of guilt hit her, before she once more reminded herself about how easy such an act to replenish the stores would prove.

The short doubts then left her, and the kelvic pressed quite quickly then returned to the bench she’d designated herself, a hand dropping absently to one of the daggers that hung at her side.

‘I need blood.’

Her gaze dropped to the floor before rising once more, the woman steeling herself at her post as he then began the haphazard task of mixing all ingredients gathered, a chill riveting her spine as she sought the hand basin and rinsed her hands, before shortly delving them into the mixture of flour, cheese, and egg. All at once she felt as though she were a mere little child once more, helping one of her sisters make bread for supper, and an elated hum and giggle left her lips, before a smile formed and fell. ‘I’ve no time to be silly.’

Between the kelvic’s fingers, her gaze took point and note of the crumble-like texture of her dough, and dwelt shortly on the off colouration that came from the yolk of the egg being broken and worked into one section of the dough more than another. She pressed her lips and worked small pieces between her fingers, repeated the task over and over again until she was satisfied that the mass beneath her had been properly tended.

[Altaira Readva]

Bird Speak | Common | Vani | Others
Autumn 1, 514 AV

Altaira knew very well that she had perhaps spent too much time working at the dough and flour that now whitened her fingertips, and it took a further few moments before she managed to clean herself enough to press forward to the next little step of the soul mist making.

It almost surprised herself with how much ease she drew her own blade, inspected the edge’s cleanliness and sharpness, before she found herself wondering just which little piece of flesh would be the part that she cut and bled from for Dira.

She shortly found herself trailing the tip of her blade down her hands and arms, mind falling into a short reverie as the decision was brought before her, before a nip of skin was taken from the outer length of her right thumb, and a deeper, solid cut through her own flesh followed the instant the kelvic noted the initial slice. The woman had spent enough seasons as a herbalist to know in general how much blood would be let from how deep of a wound, how it was far easier to treat wounds that were in a more localised area, and as she then began to further knead and press together the dough with a her fleshly bloodied hand, her lip then bitten as she fought back sharp waves of pain.

Considerations of using the blood of animals crossed her mind as she owned her own pain, pressing the dough harder and harder as she considered whether or not she could stomach the blood of another in her own mouth. She was a kelvic, yes. She had two forms- both animal and beast, with a mind that laid somewhere in between.

But she was a parrot- one of nut and berry and fruit and bread. For first time in her life, she found herself wishing that the form she bore was one that devoured blood and flesh- surely, she thought. Surely such a creature would have no qualms with the chewing of a blood that did not flow from their own veins.

‘I’m shouldn’t bother with such thoughts.’

Without another worry for word, the kelvic took hold of a larger, bloodier portion, and slipped it into her mouth, pushing her mind not to note the taste as she worked on ensuring that the wad of dough well and truly was worked, slipped several pieces more into her mouth, before she found herself shifting from her stance at the bench to a seat at a small set of table and chairs off to the side of the kitchen.

From there, Altaira uniformed her chewing and aligned her breathing, keeping her tongue still as she let her thoughts flow instead that to Djed and the end that she wished to achieve. It was such a difficult thing- truly to weave and come to terms with something that she was quite rightly unsure of in all aspect. How long did she need to chew, was the transformation from dough to soulmist one that happened as it left her lips, or would she herself simply know when it was done?

‘Breath in, and out. In, out. Even. Balanced.’

[Altaira Readva]

Bird Speak | Common | Vani | Others
Autumn 1, 514 AV

The kelvic forced herself into a state of greater concentration, letting her mind slip and fall from the world and wonders that surrounded her, attempting to numb herself to all that was worldly as she pressed herself deeper into simple thought of transformation. It wasn't an easy task for her, not in the slightest.

Many had died in the halls that surrounded her, and though that fact alone gave her far greater peace of heart and mind than she could ever explain, her own kelvic nature and lack of experience in the art of mediation hindered her greatly. She’d find herself beginning to finally find an even state of serenity, before some catch or hitch or numbness of limb would cause a flinch and disrupt the process.

‘Breath in, and out. Even. Slowly. Balanced. There is only my breathing. There is only transformation.’

She worked the chant further, and in her mind’s eye she did her best to imagine what it would look like for the strange dough in her mouth to transform itself into something other. From there, her mind slipped to every account and time she’d met a ghost, the slight shimmer that rippled their forms, and the strangeness of their touch.

A sparse coolness then began to form in her mouth, and the texture of the chewing changed. Her brow furrowed as she lingered with the substance, unsure whether it was quite time yet to free it from her mouth, or if the transformation was yet complete. A moment more of confusion and wonderings followed, before the woman leant forward over the table as she cupped her hands to catch whatever was to slip from her tongue.

A moment later, she was looking down at the strange pile in a curious reverie, her thumbs pressing and poking the gel like substance as she herself attempted to come to terms with what in Dira's name had just occurred, swallowing hard as she further prodded. Her mind once more flitted to ghosts, the fabrics that they themselves were made of and found herself in a short place of deep consideration.

It took the chilling of an icy draft for Altaira to realise how rigid she sat, and by the time she collected herself well enough to take seat more comfortably, the minuscule portion of soulmist she'd created was well on its way to decay. "Petch," she cursed, as the substance seemed to almost slip through her fingers as it vanished, a rolling sigh escaping her lips before she gave a short, harsh look to the benches where she had begun work.

'Practice makes perfect, no?'

[Marrick Corvis]

Altaira Readva Skills earned Kopis +1xp Stealth +1xp Endurance +1xp Spiritism +3xp Meditation +1xp Land Navigation +2xp Cooking + 2xp Lores learned Calidus- A soft spoken Spiritist Lore- Occupations of a Spiritist Lore- Spiritism Uses Lore- Desolate Ones (basic) Lore- Making Soulmist (Recipe) Lore- Soulmist (how to make it) Lore- Location The Purple Forest Lore- Navigating the Purple Forest, Beware the Path Lore- Spiritism Mantra “Any Help I can give?” Lore- How to crack and egg Lore- How to make Dough Lore- Meditation Methods Lore- Soulmist Creation (basic) Notes It was a short thread, but full of well written content. Enjoy your skills and lores. Thanks for the read. If you think I missed anything let me know. As always a pleasure.