[Amoren] Every Thing, Everything
Posted: Sun Apr 10, 2022 2:29 am
TIMESTAMP: 11th Solace, Glade 4622
NOTES: Direct continuation of Everything, Every Thing
NOTES: Direct continuation of Everything, Every Thing
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Clearly annoyed, the woman purses her lips and narrows her eyes at him. “Answer me, Degare. I thought we were quite close. Am I wrong?” Finally, she allows herself to voice her frustrations with him, allowing him to hear the hurt fraying at the silky timbre of her voice. She didn’t like being kept in the dark. He sighs, again. This time, however, it is much deeper as his eyes drift closed. Reopening as he speaks, “Don’t…think like that. You know it’s hard for me to talk about this type of thing and it’s…it’s…” his voice seems to catch at this part of his sentence, volume lowering into not much more than a mumble as he continues, “...been so long since I’d been shown that level of emphatic passion…and so quickly…? I…didn’t know how to react. It’s hard to process how you feel about a person when the first time you have sex with them, they hold your still beating heart, literally, in their hands. It was an experience so bizarre I couldn’t resist it…I craved more, and more he was so willing to give.” The Veir pauses, throat dry– with a deep breath, he almost speaks again, but Lucia interrupts. “He– wait, what…? I know how your mentalism works so I can suspend my horror in that regard, but why was your chest cavity even open like that?! In that context!?” Though she tried to keep her overall volume down, her impassioned, thoroughly shocked voice rang through the room in regards to what he’d just said.
A bitter smile curls at the corners of the Ferrier’s lips. Right before he was going to respond, the tiny Thing produced another little burst of blood. As before, he Leeches the blood into Blight and channels that to Bloodshape his little prism into a tetrahedron after a few moments of concentrated thought. With the first few notes of laughter that sounds almost painful, he speaks, “From the Blood initiation– a laceration appeared on my lung and it collapsed. He’d opened me up to fix it and since…I wanted to stay conscious, I used my mentalism to prevent myself from passing out.” After this sentence, he sighs before continuing, “With the…extra sensitivity I have from my blight, what he did ended up feeling far, far better than I ever anticipated and well…Arkash noticed. Drunk on my own euphoria, I let him take complete control of me and told him to do whatever he wanted, as dumb as that sounds.” Lucia squints as she detects the slightest notes of shame in the sheepish way he speaks. Very, very uncharacteristic of him. She’s still recovering from the shock that he’d had sex at all in that precarious position, but honestly, was it really that strange coming from him of all people? Though she’d said nothing, he continued, “He was so intent on making sure I lived through the initiation, on fixing me afterwards, and even though he…went a little too far during that encounter, he used his Necromancy to undo his error. We were basically strangers still, but he was so genuinely enamored with me I…was taken aback. I didn’t know how to respond…but I loved how he made me feel. I wanted more, and yet more he was happy to give.” The bitterness in his smile had drained, and for a moment, while he spoke, he appeared to be reflecting on these fleeting memories with a large amount of fondness…yet by the time his words stopped, his words were suffused in a deep, heavy sadness.
Lucia wore a perplexed expression at the bizarre way the two had chosen to show their affection to one another, but despite this, it was beginning to click in her head why the two of them had become so very fond of one another so quickly. Even if somebody doesn’t put a lot of value on sex in and of itself, extremely visceral situations wherein one submits themselves with that level of vulnerability and is treated with loving care, with empathy, with adoration and affection, it’s nearly impossible not to mirror those emotions towards the one whose mercy you’ve given yourself to. It made sense. While she thought about this, the little blood beast vomited another little pool of life essence on the table. Somewhat lazily, the Vandikar Leeched it into Blight and reformed the tetrahedron into an octahedron with Bloodshaping.
Again, she didn’t respond yet but he continued, “Even though he’d left me almost a bit worse for wear after he repaired my lung, I found myself beneath him again later the same evening. He assured me he’d fix the damage he’d done, and pleaded with me to trust him. I relented and found myself comforted by nothing more than his touch…I...craved it. I felt…spellbound by him, though nothing of the sort had been cast.” The weight of his despair ebbed and flowed through the words as his adoration for the little Rathor danced alongside it in the way he spoke. It was almost heartbreaking to listen to him talk at all considering how happy he must’ve been in the moment only to end up in his current state. She blinks a couple times, once again caught off guard and a tad bemused at whatever he was implying by saying Arkash had ‘left me almost a bit worse for wear,’ but she glosses over it considering it’s apparent that the silver elf had been fully restored. “Degare…I…and all of,” she pauses to gesticulate fairly vaguely, but wildly, “...that…happened in what, the span of a day? If my timeline is correct, that was before you fed him the disloyal Valran…the way your eyes reflected bright with your adoration makes so much more sense now…” she’s speaking almost nervously, musing these thoughts to herself almost as she walks through this series of events out loud.
In response, Degare just laughs, drifting off into a tired sigh. Though it would appear he wanted to speak again, the tiny Thing crawling around in front of him produces more blood. In a now rather short period of time, it swirls into Blight from his Leeching then quickly dissipates as the octahedron collapses in on itself and is once again reformed by Bloodshaping to be an icosahedron. When finished, “That’s not even everything. He overheard that single comment you made about my birthday on our way out from the basement that day and endeavored to get me something. Make me something. This little Thing here was the result…took a few days of his time to tinker with his Necromancy to make it for me. The gesture melted my heart in and of itself,” taking a deep breath after this sentence, he continues, “...and then he opts to follow me all the way back to Boghadar because by that point, he’d claimed I was…stuck with him. He was so eager to just…be in my presence. It felt so nice to just be open with him, connect with him…so I let him in, and maybe that was foolish but emotionally weak as I was, I couldn’t…resist.” The same interwoven mix of affection, adoration, and something akin to love shifted back and forth with deep sadness and painful despair as he spoke. Lucia sighs, for how could anyone even claim his decisions were stupid? Short sighted, maybe…but emotions are powerful. She knew that all too well.
With a longer exhale, he speaks once more. “In the days that followed in Boghadar, we spent them together just…enjoying one another’s company. He taught me the fundamentals of Blood Magic, as well– I only know vaguely what I’m doing here because of him. His unabashed enthusiasm for my music was also…precious and endearing. It was just long enough for us to spend together for me to start getting used to having his arms around me at night when he got a…letter calling him away.” While his voice was much the same as before when he spoke here, his throat sounded far drier towards the end and cracked at the word ‘away.’ Lucia bit her lower lip, extremely curious as to what he meant though she knew this must have been what drew his lover away. “A…letter? You mean that’s how that other Veir summoned him back? I know you said he was a runaway slave but…interesting that he’d choose something so benign to draw the man back.” She spoke with a curious cant to her head, though there was a sense of foreboding in her voice as she knew that a missing slave’s master was never that amiable unless they had some sort of nefarious intent. “Yes, and the letter claimed that Arkash had business he yet needed to attend to. He…claimed they would trade marks. I just…I don’t believe that that was an honest offer since the man was happy to convince him to sign a contract knowing full well his slave couldn’t read. Why would he be honest about trading the Marks of Power of all things if he’d already done something like that?” Once this information was revealed, Lucia’s head drops back and she stares at the ceiling. No wonder he was so mortified at the fact that the little Rathor had never returned. He was either still enslaved or his master botched his initiation, killing him. Those are the only two options in her head.
Without moving her head at all, she speaks, “Oh. That’s why you’re acting as if you’re mourning all over again. You were blindsided and now…he’s just gone,” her own voice was frayed at this point. It upset her, too. Especially so with the added frustration that there was absolutely nothing that could be done about it at this point. “Just…let me support you. I’ll do whatever you need as you put yourself together again.” Her voice is soft, comforting and rings with genuine affection for the saddened Veir. Slowly, his eyes drift closed as he exhales and he holds them there for a few moments. When eyes of amber reopen, they appear glassy; it doesn't take much longer after that for the pale elf to begin to cry. "...Thank you..." was all he managed to say, broken and coarse as his voice was.
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Clearly annoyed, the woman purses her lips and narrows her eyes at him. “Answer me, Degare. I thought we were quite close. Am I wrong?” Finally, she allows herself to voice her frustrations with him, allowing him to hear the hurt fraying at the silky timbre of her voice. She didn’t like being kept in the dark. He sighs, again. This time, however, it is much deeper as his eyes drift closed. Reopening as he speaks, “Don’t…think like that. You know it’s hard for me to talk about this type of thing and it’s…it’s…” his voice seems to catch at this part of his sentence, volume lowering into not much more than a mumble as he continues, “...been so long since I’d been shown that level of emphatic passion…and so quickly…? I…didn’t know how to react. It’s hard to process how you feel about a person when the first time you have sex with them, they hold your still beating heart, literally, in their hands. It was an experience so bizarre I couldn’t resist it…I craved more, and more he was so willing to give.” The Veir pauses, throat dry– with a deep breath, he almost speaks again, but Lucia interrupts. “He– wait, what…? I know how your mentalism works so I can suspend my horror in that regard, but why was your chest cavity even open like that?! In that context!?” Though she tried to keep her overall volume down, her impassioned, thoroughly shocked voice rang through the room in regards to what he’d just said.
A bitter smile curls at the corners of the Ferrier’s lips. Right before he was going to respond, the tiny Thing produced another little burst of blood. As before, he Leeches the blood into Blight and channels that to Bloodshape his little prism into a tetrahedron after a few moments of concentrated thought. With the first few notes of laughter that sounds almost painful, he speaks, “From the Blood initiation– a laceration appeared on my lung and it collapsed. He’d opened me up to fix it and since…I wanted to stay conscious, I used my mentalism to prevent myself from passing out.” After this sentence, he sighs before continuing, “With the…extra sensitivity I have from my blight, what he did ended up feeling far, far better than I ever anticipated and well…Arkash noticed. Drunk on my own euphoria, I let him take complete control of me and told him to do whatever he wanted, as dumb as that sounds.” Lucia squints as she detects the slightest notes of shame in the sheepish way he speaks. Very, very uncharacteristic of him. She’s still recovering from the shock that he’d had sex at all in that precarious position, but honestly, was it really that strange coming from him of all people? Though she’d said nothing, he continued, “He was so intent on making sure I lived through the initiation, on fixing me afterwards, and even though he…went a little too far during that encounter, he used his Necromancy to undo his error. We were basically strangers still, but he was so genuinely enamored with me I…was taken aback. I didn’t know how to respond…but I loved how he made me feel. I wanted more, and yet more he was happy to give.” The bitterness in his smile had drained, and for a moment, while he spoke, he appeared to be reflecting on these fleeting memories with a large amount of fondness…yet by the time his words stopped, his words were suffused in a deep, heavy sadness.
Lucia wore a perplexed expression at the bizarre way the two had chosen to show their affection to one another, but despite this, it was beginning to click in her head why the two of them had become so very fond of one another so quickly. Even if somebody doesn’t put a lot of value on sex in and of itself, extremely visceral situations wherein one submits themselves with that level of vulnerability and is treated with loving care, with empathy, with adoration and affection, it’s nearly impossible not to mirror those emotions towards the one whose mercy you’ve given yourself to. It made sense. While she thought about this, the little blood beast vomited another little pool of life essence on the table. Somewhat lazily, the Vandikar Leeched it into Blight and reformed the tetrahedron into an octahedron with Bloodshaping.
Again, she didn’t respond yet but he continued, “Even though he’d left me almost a bit worse for wear after he repaired my lung, I found myself beneath him again later the same evening. He assured me he’d fix the damage he’d done, and pleaded with me to trust him. I relented and found myself comforted by nothing more than his touch…I...craved it. I felt…spellbound by him, though nothing of the sort had been cast.” The weight of his despair ebbed and flowed through the words as his adoration for the little Rathor danced alongside it in the way he spoke. It was almost heartbreaking to listen to him talk at all considering how happy he must’ve been in the moment only to end up in his current state. She blinks a couple times, once again caught off guard and a tad bemused at whatever he was implying by saying Arkash had ‘left me almost a bit worse for wear,’ but she glosses over it considering it’s apparent that the silver elf had been fully restored. “Degare…I…and all of,” she pauses to gesticulate fairly vaguely, but wildly, “...that…happened in what, the span of a day? If my timeline is correct, that was before you fed him the disloyal Valran…the way your eyes reflected bright with your adoration makes so much more sense now…” she’s speaking almost nervously, musing these thoughts to herself almost as she walks through this series of events out loud.
In response, Degare just laughs, drifting off into a tired sigh. Though it would appear he wanted to speak again, the tiny Thing crawling around in front of him produces more blood. In a now rather short period of time, it swirls into Blight from his Leeching then quickly dissipates as the octahedron collapses in on itself and is once again reformed by Bloodshaping to be an icosahedron. When finished, “That’s not even everything. He overheard that single comment you made about my birthday on our way out from the basement that day and endeavored to get me something. Make me something. This little Thing here was the result…took a few days of his time to tinker with his Necromancy to make it for me. The gesture melted my heart in and of itself,” taking a deep breath after this sentence, he continues, “...and then he opts to follow me all the way back to Boghadar because by that point, he’d claimed I was…stuck with him. He was so eager to just…be in my presence. It felt so nice to just be open with him, connect with him…so I let him in, and maybe that was foolish but emotionally weak as I was, I couldn’t…resist.” The same interwoven mix of affection, adoration, and something akin to love shifted back and forth with deep sadness and painful despair as he spoke. Lucia sighs, for how could anyone even claim his decisions were stupid? Short sighted, maybe…but emotions are powerful. She knew that all too well.
With a longer exhale, he speaks once more. “In the days that followed in Boghadar, we spent them together just…enjoying one another’s company. He taught me the fundamentals of Blood Magic, as well– I only know vaguely what I’m doing here because of him. His unabashed enthusiasm for my music was also…precious and endearing. It was just long enough for us to spend together for me to start getting used to having his arms around me at night when he got a…letter calling him away.” While his voice was much the same as before when he spoke here, his throat sounded far drier towards the end and cracked at the word ‘away.’ Lucia bit her lower lip, extremely curious as to what he meant though she knew this must have been what drew his lover away. “A…letter? You mean that’s how that other Veir summoned him back? I know you said he was a runaway slave but…interesting that he’d choose something so benign to draw the man back.” She spoke with a curious cant to her head, though there was a sense of foreboding in her voice as she knew that a missing slave’s master was never that amiable unless they had some sort of nefarious intent. “Yes, and the letter claimed that Arkash had business he yet needed to attend to. He…claimed they would trade marks. I just…I don’t believe that that was an honest offer since the man was happy to convince him to sign a contract knowing full well his slave couldn’t read. Why would he be honest about trading the Marks of Power of all things if he’d already done something like that?” Once this information was revealed, Lucia’s head drops back and she stares at the ceiling. No wonder he was so mortified at the fact that the little Rathor had never returned. He was either still enslaved or his master botched his initiation, killing him. Those are the only two options in her head.
Without moving her head at all, she speaks, “Oh. That’s why you’re acting as if you’re mourning all over again. You were blindsided and now…he’s just gone,” her own voice was frayed at this point. It upset her, too. Especially so with the added frustration that there was absolutely nothing that could be done about it at this point. “Just…let me support you. I’ll do whatever you need as you put yourself together again.” Her voice is soft, comforting and rings with genuine affection for the saddened Veir. Slowly, his eyes drift closed as he exhales and he holds them there for a few moments. When eyes of amber reopen, they appear glassy; it doesn't take much longer after that for the pale elf to begin to cry. "...Thank you..." was all he managed to say, broken and coarse as his voice was.
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'Thoughts'
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"Silvain Tongue/Speech"
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"
