(Flashback) Lost in Translocation (Nisana)

[Wrenmae]

25 Autumn, 510 AV

Mountains had a way of distorting direction. Rocky claws piercing land and sky ringed the traveler like solemn soldiers, black against the setting sun. Pausing astride his horse, Weaver, Wrenmae tried again to discern which way his path should take. The Unforgiving was quiet around him, offering no assistance in this...an attempt to righten his path. Cruel, the rocks would offer no wisdom, only death. Frowning, Wrenmae wheeled Weaver to another direction, trying to set his progress by the setting sun. His path would have taken him to Lhavit, having skirted off from Denval. Unfortunately, unlored in the wilderness and at so tender an age, the storyteller was lost here...and had been for three days.

By night the Unforgiving purred its unseen mysteries, sounds of predators large and small scuttling over rock and stream to find their sleeping prey. Only 17, the boy had set himself adrift from Alvadas in pursuit of story, pursuit of life. Strange that the world be so full of double-handed death, rather than the life and adventure of stories.

Or perhaps adventure was only possible when life itself was in danger.

Sighing, Wrenmae righted his horse's travel, reigns in hand and wheeled the horse yet again to set its hooved tirade. Weaver snorted, disdainful of the interruptions. The slightly glowing hair of its hide was a star passing through narrow canyons, a beacon Wrenmae had not planned for.

Beside him, Ket yawned, stretching her feline paws from a saddlebag and watching the landscape blearily. A stray at heart, she was still a stranger here. Wrenmae kept a steady hand near his long knife, ever conscious of the rising plateaus above them. His stomach protested vigilance, seeking its own comfort and relenting, the storyteller stopped Weaver in the shadowed overhang of a slanted cliff.

First he checked the area, vigilant for signs of animal droppings or recent kills, worried Weaver would not fare well encumbered by its master's equipment. Finding a narrow cave between the cracked stone, he led his horse inside. Rather than let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light, especially as the sun floundered in the blood of its setting, Wrenmae concentrated and allowed his eyes to shift, becoming more aware of the darkness around him. Cat-like pupils now stared from the tale weaver's sockets and he used them to ascertain the rocky niche. With no sign of habitation, he tied Weaver to a stone and took one of his long knives from the saddlepack.

Promising himself he'd invest in a bow at the next sign of civilization, Wrenmae passed from the cave and back into the darkening terrain of the Unforgiving. Not altogether skilled in hunting, he no less tried his best to follow the gamey deer so skittish in these areas. By fortune he came close enough to make eye contact with one, sending out an influential wave of calm and tranquility to the ordinarily frightened creature. Somewhat distrustful, but relieved that, at least, Wrenmae appeared to be no predator, his victim allowed him save journey to its side.

There was no common language between them, and as the human ran a hand along its course fur, he apologized quietly. "I'm sorry," he said, judging the area necessary to cut, "If I were not so hungry I'd be more inclined to give you the chance to escape...but I'm a stranger here, and lost...please understand."

The deer knew nothing, oblivious to words, but his tone was calming to the animal.

With a heavy heart, Wrenmae buried the long knife through the creature's eye.

The kill was quick, the deer only spasming once as it bucked uselessly against the rocky ground. Wrenmae threw himself backward, careful not to be entangled in its death throes. Luckily they were brief, leaving Wrenmae to drag the carcass back toward his niche in the wall by his lonesome.

The task was grueling, attempting to move the still-heavy thing back to where he could make use of his other equipment. He only reached camp when the sun was nothing but a fading memory, blackness spreading through every inch of the land.

Only the glowing coat of Weaver offered a steady beacon, letting Wrenmae drag the deer closer. The horse regarded him suspiciously, but remained quiet.

Finished with the first part of his labors, Wrenmae laid back against the ground besides his horse, letting the strength he lost seep slowly back into his muscles.

[Nisana Curare]

As night descended over the Unforgiving Nisana stalked quietly along the paths and trails that wound their way about the sharp peaks. Any day now Serena would be asking for her to go out on Harvest, and so Nisana was taking this time to enjoy hunting before she had to shift her focus to the Harvest.

Not that she was dreading the idea of going on Harvest, she couldn't wait to go and show she was worthy of being eldest daughter of Valvessa Curare, but hunting had become a passion of hers beyond just showing her skill and worth. The thrill of the chase, excitement of the kill, and comfort of a job well done. Such joys could be few and far between once she left Kalinor to find a surrogate.

Wearing her black armor, Mother's bow in hand, she moved on sandaled feet along the trail. She had found the trail of dear not far back, and while it was not a dangerous prey it was still one that required caution to keep from startling it. So when she heard a voice speaking nearby she thought for sure the animal would be startled off.

Peering around a rocky outcropping at the source of the voice revealed something surprising. A human boy, not old enough to be a man by his look, was standing next to the dear and petting it. Confused Nisana watched, and her eyes widened as the boy plunged a dagger into the dear's eye. The boy had been hunting the dear, but how had he gotten so close to it? Could it be... magic?

Curious now Nisana stalked after the boy as he pulled the dear into a narrow cave. With her keen eyes she easily saw the glowing form of a horse, which the boy lay down next to. Probably the way he had gotten here. For a few moments she simply watched from a distance, but eventually she walked forward.

Bow at the ready she approached the cave straight on, sure that a boy could prove no threat to her, and called out, "You, Boy. What brings you to the Unforgiving?"

[Wrenmae]

Shocked by the voice through the darkness, Wrenmae sat up sharply with his long knife swiftly following his hand. Focusing quietly he filled his eyes with Djed, shifting them to a creature more suited for lowlight vision. The curious female, pale with long arms and a bow held at the ready in front of her, was the owner of the voice. Obviously poorly equipped to handle a bow at distance, Wrenmae sheathed his weapon and prayed to any gods watching to spare him a grisly fate this eve.

Weaver strained his own eyes, nickering both surprise and appreciation before pulling back against the cave wall. Ket, the ever curious female, gazed from the saddle bag at the woman approaching, her eyes the slivered question of a feline.

Both hands up and palm forward, Wrenmae smiled sheepishly. Caught so unprepared reminded him of how very open he was, how unbearably exposed to danger. She must think him a fool for being so obvious, and might even go so far as to steal his kill. If she chose to take it, Wrenmae would simply have to go hungry...it wasn't in him to attack another sentient being at this point...he had a hard enough time killing deer.

"Hello," he offered, completely skipping over her question for the moment, "My name is Wrenmae, Wrenmae Sek...of Alvadas." The words echoed around him in a rough timbre, the sort of clashing sound that caused Weaver to flinch visibly.

Wrenmae lowered his tone.

"If I've stumbled on your territory, my humblest apologies...I've been lost for three days, trying to find my way to Lhavit."

There was a pregnant pause, she with her bow trained on him and he with a small smile and his eyes straining toward her. A standstill with an upperhand on her side.

"May I ask your name?"

[Nisana Curare]

Nisana listened quietly as the boy spoke, and slowly she lowered her bow as he spoke. It was a miracle that such a naive and harmless looking human could be out here alone, and apparently be lost for several days. She stopped just shy of letting her guard completely down however, remembering the sight of the dear standing there and waiting to be killed. Perhaps it was magic, and not luck, that allowed him to survive.

"My name is Nisana Currare, of Kalinor," she responded to his question after a long moment of silence, "And you are not in my territory. Only wild beasts claim The Unforgiving as their territory."

Her amethyst eyes passed over the cave again, touching on Wrenmae's knife for a time, but eventually her curiosity pushed her to speak again. Gesturing towards the body of the dear she asked, "How did you do that, getting the dear to stand still for you? It was magic, yes?"

She was no student of the arcane, but during her years in Kalinor she had learned of some magic. What the boy had done was not Animation, Auristics, or Reimancy, of that much she was sure.

[Wrenmae]

Kalinor...the word rolled off his mind like raindrops from a leaf. He knew the name, but not the specifics. Someone had been talking about it in Alvadas some months back...though details were lost for the most part, obscured by more pressing events. He found himself nodding at the mention of wild animals, having skirted their territories and briefly seeing some of them, monsters of imagination slinking close to bone-white rocks...it gave the impression the Unforgiving might be the skeleton of some mighty god creature, laid low in the beginning of time.

The thought itself was disturbing, though might make for an interesting tale.

At the mention of magic, Wrenmae seized up, eyes widening slightly and hand on his knife again. She had seen him stalk the deer, likely saw him murder the creature in anything but a natural manner. Being in the Unforgiving, the boy had let down his guard, accepting that few, if any, walked the Unforgiving in the same places he did.

He should have been more careful.

Swallowing, Wrenmae considered lying. How easy would it be to try and convince this curious humanoid that he had simply been lucky, that the deer had been sick?

It wasn't worth the suspicion he decided, lowering his eyes.

"Yes," he answered after a moment, "I...you weren't supposed to see that." It was true, she wasn't. It would seem more knowing eyes than he'd assumed might watch his movements in the clefts of stone. "I hypnotized it," he continued, indicating the deer, "I don't have a ranged weapon to hunt with, so it's been hard eating these past few days." He smiled sheepishly, hoping her experience with magic wasn't as suspicious or ill-willed as others he had heard about.

"I know I have no right to ask this, but if I share my kill will you not speak of what you saw to anyone? People...well, people have a poor opinion of magic and I don't want it spread around that I'm a practitioner...and stuff."

[Nisana Curare]

Again Nisana was quiet as the boy spoke, hardly moving, but she did frown slightly when he offered to share his kill. She certainly had no need of taking someone else's kill, especially not a small human boy.

"I do not need your kill, but if you tell me of this magic that you used on the dear then I will promise not to tell anyone else," she said as she slowly stepped into the entrance of the small cave, finally lowering her bow the rest of the way, "That is acceptable, yes?"

Even though he was a human the thought of learning of another type of magic pricked at the childlike curiosity inside Nisana. He certainly seemed much more eager to talk than fight, and a bit scared of her as well, so there should be no danger in stopping and talking with him for a time. It was not as though she had to hurry and return home with food, she had simply been out here hunting for the lessons to be learned.

[Wrenmae]

Her request surprised the storyteller, far more used to the stygmatism against magic entirely. She wanted to learn something of what he knew however, although that begged the question of how to teach it. Hypnotism was a deeply personal magic, the sort that one had to use with force of personality and presence. Even then, the risk of overgiving...of seeing illusions, damaging ones sense of what was and wasn't in the world was a frightening possibility. Why anyone would want to learn magic was beyond him...he'd known it, practiced it, became it, since he was a child. No one had taught him before, it simply was.

It made the idea of teaching rather difficult.

"I...err," He stumbled over the words, trying to find a point of origin to push from. "I don't know how to teach it...exactly, but I can try...I suppose." Indicating the rock in front of him, Wrenmae placed his long knife back into the saddle bag. It was obvious by now that she was not going to attack him, curiosity motivated her movement and promised him at least a measure of peace.

"First, what is Kalinor?" The question had been bugging him since she had mentioned it, like an errant fly buzzing in the back of his head. "I know the name, but not much about it...and you look rather different from the people I'm used to seeing, what would I call your kind?"

Relief was returning to him, his breathing normalizing as the danger of assassin possibility faded. He hoped he could give her what she asked for, but the only way he knew how to teach was through experience.

At least practicing hypnotism would give him a better edge on the personal magic-like talent.

[Nisana Curare]

Nisana shook her head faintly at Wrenmae's offer as she took a seat on the rock he indicated, "I do not wish you to teach, I just wish to learn of it. How do you hypnotize, what can be done with it? Those are things I wish to learn."

Perhaps hypnotizing things could proof useful on her coming Harvest, but she was confident in her abilities to persuade with words. Certainly more than confident enough that she had no need to seek help from a human. Still she was curious to learn of a form of magic she had not heard of before.

For a silent moment she stared at Wrenmae after his questions, plainly shocked by what he asked, "You do not know? Well, me and my kind are Symenestra," pride was plain in her voice as she spoke, "And Kalinor is our home. It is the most elegant and beautiful city in Mizahar. Elegant pale buildings hang from the ceiling of the massive cavern that houses it, connected by webs of silken threads draped between everything. No where in Mizahar can compare."

Casting her gaze over the horse and cat for a moment she casually asked, "You said you are from Alvadas, yes? What is it like there?" she didn't care much to learn of the city, as it could not compare to Kalinor, but this would at least be a good exercise of her skills in conversation.

[Wrenmae]

"Hypnotism is...well it's complicated," Wrenmae began, shrugging his shoulders faintly "At the same time it isn't all that hard to grasp...I guess that's why not many people do it...I mean apart from the risks magic already has." Rubbing his fingers along the stubble on his chin, he called the details of hypnotism into his mind. The emptiness, the removal of self, the influencing of a person sphere, the aura. After a moment he seemed to have it, smiling through the thickening shadows, his eyes glittering, "Yes, it's about influencing another mind...not really controlling, more...pushing, like gently leading a horse to water. I can't make it drink, but I can make the water look especially tempting." The sensation he felt now was the calling to his inner djed. Whenever he met someone, part of his first instinct was to reach out with his mind and briefly touch theirs. Through eye contact he expanded his will, briefly skating along the surface of her aura. It wouldn't be much, exercising care in every practical use of hypnotism. Instead he would simply pull her emotions slightly, no more than a gentle tug. He called her to trust him, to relax before the human. He certainly was no extreme threat, relaxed and unarmed, a friendly smile and open information. Perhaps she would count the feeling natural, if not...well, he'd have to hope it didn't offend her.

Breaking eye contact, he reached up and scratched behind Weaver's ear. The horse looked at him wryly, chuffing a soft guffaw.

Kalinor sounded beautiful, the kind of city Wrenmae could appreciate. The entirety of it was built on webs, strands of story and history pulling them all together. "Kalinor huh?" He asked, still scratching his horse, "Sounds mesmerizing, I'd like to see it one day if I'm able." He was wistful, more a sigh on what he could have done. It was likely the city offered no help to strangers...or perhaps even killed them on sight. He'd heard Wind Reach was none too kind to visitors, perhaps everyone was to an extent.

Turning back from the horse, Wrenmae winked, twisting his hands into swift serpentine gestures. "Alvadas?" he asked with a grind, "Alvadas is a windy city, confusing roads and illusions...the sort of place you're lost in before realizing you'd misstep. It may not be as mesmerizing as Kalinor, but it is a city worth seeing I think."

His manner was easy, his words smooth and measured. First impressions were the scar of perception. If he ever met this girl in the future, she would remember him as he was now...and he would prefer it be a memory he could control and build from.

"You travel the Unforgiving with ease...but not with much supplies. Is Kalinor close then?"

[Nisana Curare]

Nisana listened with an intense curiosity to Wrenmae's description of Hypnotism. It certainly did sound like a skill that could be very useful during a Harvest. Not that she would admit such a thing to a human, but perhaps there might be a Symenestra who knew of the skill...

Even as she was pondering the thoughts over she felt a little shift in her feelings. She could trust Wrenmae, he was harmless and friendly... But there was something off about those thoughts. Nisana gave a small frown as Wrenmae spoke of Alvadas, and then remembered the sight of the dear standing there, waiting to be stabbed.

Nisana's eyes widened and she jumped back off the rock, bringing her bow up once more as she pulled an arrow out of her quiver, "You! You were using hypnotism on me just now!" she glared at Wrenmae, and then a small smirk touched her lips, "But I am not so easy to control as a dear. What did you hope to achieve? Did you plan to rob me?"

She didn't really care about the rest of what he had said at this point. There was the more pressing matter of the boy trying to use hypnotism on her. Placing the arrow on her bowstring she waited to hear Wrenmae's explanation warily. She would not fall under such influence again.