[Amoren] Everything I'm Not I
Posted: Sat Apr 16, 2022 1:05 am
TIMESTAMP: 18th Solace, Glade 4622
NOTES: Open me!
NOTES: Open me!
► Show Spoiler
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17th Solace, Glade 4622
Mornings in the gilded city of Amoren were always gorgeous. Lucia had risen about an hour after dawn and milled about the house, minding her business for a time. It was too early for her to disturb anyone she had any interest in interacting with, so she remained in her chambers. Mostly due to her station just beneath the head of the house, hers in the Amoren estate was the room directly across the hall from her Veir’s. It was an exact mirror of his own floor plan wise and quite a bit more luxurious than a Valran would come to expect, but she’d definitely earned his favor over the years through her skill and boundless loyalty.
As the hours of the morning ticked by, several questions floated to the surface of the woman’s mind. For one, her sleep had been disturbed just past the witching hour, when the moon was highest in the sky. While she was too tired to really get up and investigate…it sounded as if the Veir was in the company of another. Which…was odd. His state of mind was so frayed that such a thing didn’t make any sense on top of the fact that it was in the middle of the night and she was fully aware that he’d gone to bed alone. At the time, she dismissed it as her simply imagining things…but…had she been?
As it turns out, she was not. With the sun rising ever closer to achieving its apex that day, the elven woman made her way over to Degare’s chambers intending to wake him. She clicked the door open with utmost delicacy, having a small hunch that he would not be alone. Her instincts were correct– the bed held two figures. The first was that of her Veir…but the second one? It was a man she immediately recognized as the lover he’d just begun to mourn. Taken aback, her face twists in confusion, but she immediately retreats, closing the door just as lightly as she had opened it.
She had so many questions…but this was his first day back. They could wait at least another day. Lucia left the two of them to themselves; she figured they would want to bask in the warmth of the other’s company and…she didn’t want to disturb that.
— —
18th Solace, Glade 4622
The elven woman had left Degare and his lover alone for the entirety of the previous day…but now her curiosity was eating her. She waited until the afternoon, hoping she could catch the Ferrier out and pull him aside.
At one point, she did pass him in the hall– he was alone. Seizing this opportunity, “Degare. I need to talk to you, are you busy?” Her words are quickened Silvain, she sounds more urgent than she really should. He stopped, looking at her with a cant to his head, idly curious. “Hm…? Oh…sure. I have nothing pressing and I’m always happy to make time for you,” he speaks warmly, his face quite a bit brighter than it had been over the past several weeks. Odd…but good…?
Once he agreed, she grabbed onto one of the taller man’s wrists and pulled him away to the eastern wing of the house, shutting the two of them in her chambers. She didn’t want to be disturbed while she finally launched her volley of stored questions at him. Lucia guided him over to the small table near the corner of the room and the two of them sat in the chairs on either side of it.
Degare was never really one to sit idly even in conversations. “Do you mind if I play around with Blood Magic a bit while we talk? I’ll use only my own, of course,” he speaks with a bright voice, warm undercurrents in his tone. Lucia sighs, “I suppose you can– as long as you pay attention to what I’m saying to you, that’s fine.”
Once she voiced that she was okay with him doing that, he pulled a blade from where it was hilted at his hip and drew it across the skin of his inner forearm, up near the bend of his elbow. The Vandikar lets the blood flow freely for a moment before wicking it away with Leeching to collect Blight. Once acquired, he waited for a bit more of his life essence to leak out and then willed the substance to slither across the skin of his arm and into the palm of his hand; he collected about 40mL or so of his blood. Using Bloodshaper, he pulls the liquid into a small, squirming tendril that writhes in the air above his palm, firmly attached to his skin at the root.
Lucia was momentarily distracted by his casting, finding Blood Magic to be utterly fascinating. Blood and gore was an interest that both she and her Veir shared…and she was hoping that, one day, he’d be willing to bestow the Mark upon her as well. When Degare canted his head to get a better look at the little tendril in his hand, the collar of his shirt shifted to reveal the diffusion of dark colors, broken blood vessels and bruised skin on the delicate flesh of his neck.
It was at this moment that she noticed the purplish shades of a rather ugly bruise bleeding just over the hem of his rather high collar. She squinted to make sure she wasn’t seeing things and…no, she wasn’t. “This…wasn’t the point of me calling you here, but ah, your neck? What is that?” The woman sounds concerned– especially because of just how high the bruising appeared to reach on the other man’s skin.
As soon as he hears the question, Degare’s face immediately flushes into a deep shade of pink. “I…it’s…” the rapid movements of his eyes indicate that he’s rather embarrassed about revealing this. “Arkash came back and I let him have his way with me, like he’s done before…only this time, he didn’t have Necromancy tools so he opted for a use of force that’s a lot more, um…blunt,” pulling down his collar a bit now, “...this was the result.” Sheepish in tone, his face is fully red now. The color had diffused all the way to the points of his ears. What he revealed was a throat adorned with an ugly kaleidoscopic mess of bleeding reds and purples. There really weren’t many recognizable shapes in the mix of colors, but one could see deeper presses where the points of the other’s fingers must have been and there were horizontal stripes wrapping around his throat as if he’d been choked hard with a ligature of some sort along with the use of somebody’s hands. Whoever it was had offered the poor elf no mercy.
“DEGARE! What is wrong with you!?” Her outburst was loud and extreme as the woman’s eyes widened and brows lifted, knitting together with concern, her whole face distorted in surprise. Immediately after she spoke, she scrambled to her feet and over to him, gently lifting his chin to get a better look at the marks on his throat. “You let him do this?? What…? Why! Are you telling me the truth?” These questions flew from her lips as she gently tilted his head to the side with the light touches of delicate fingers on his jaw. “Since when have you let anyone treat you like this?” The fire in her voice highlighted the panicked concern she felt in the moment. For the whole time that she’d know the Veir, he was always the dominant one in his bedroom relationships.
The man’s lips hardened into a line as he bit the lower one, clearly even more embarrassed than before given his companion’s response. He clenched his teeth together and said nothing to her words while he freely allowed her to look closer at his wounds. It was then that a soft smile pulled at his lips and his amber eyes reflected something warm and affectionate as images from the night he’d received these marks flit through his head. “...yes, I…rather…I invited him to. I know that’s unlike me but…I promise, I wanted everything he did to me. It’s…been this way since he and I first slept together, remember? I told you about that, didn’t I?” His tone is soft, quiet as he admits these things.
When she hears his question at the end of an explanation that, to her, was rather absurd– the woman does recall a conversation the two of them had where he mentioned the first time he and the Dranoch had sex. “Was I really meant to have taken those words seriously? You said he held your heart! I thought…I thought that was a metaphor…? You mean you really laid beneath him while he just did…whatever he wanted to your organs and you didn’t…you didn’t resist at all? No tethers, not a single cast of Bane?” Lucia seemed utterly blown away by this, clearly illustrating that she had absolutely not believed the words he had said in the past. “You knew he was Dranoch at that point, too! A botchling! The least stable! And…and…you let him get that close to you while bathed in a scene of your own blood!?” At this point she’s yelling. She steps away from him and goes to sit back down in her chair, now resting her head in her hands.
The Veir smiles, though it is one that’s embarrassed, rather sheepish in nature. “...y…yes. It, ah…felt good. I…can’t offer…much of an explanation to my headspace at that moment, but…the release of control onto him…felt good. It felt freeing. Along with how warped my perception was from my tethers, I...couldn’t resist; I melted into his hands like wet clay– I became his to shape.” He’s tripping over his words as he’s trying to force some sort of explanation, some sort of defense out, but he’s struggling from conflicting emotions and the pain each word makes his injuries feel. “...and I suppose, shape me he did. From that encounter forward, I’ve…given him more and more power over me. He’s young…about twenty-four. His passion, his enthusiasm…the freedom of his affections for me…? I’m powerless to say no. I cave every time. It reminds me of how I used to view things like this when I was his age…and when I met Averre. Before…everything.” It was almost cathartic to speak freely about these things…Lucia was the only person he could really trust with this information. He hadn’t even given Arkash an explanation quite this specific since…he was afraid to admit it to the other man.
The heat of his embarrassment compelled him to look away from Lucia and back to the little tendril of blood in his hand. It flowed and flicked back and forth for a moment before he used Infusion again to shift its state of matter to solid. Once done, he used Bloodshaper to twist its form from a tendril to a shiny, reflective prism. If he ever needed more Blight, he would gently pull some from the blood in his open wound.
- - -
17th Solace, Glade 4622
Mornings in the gilded city of Amoren were always gorgeous. Lucia had risen about an hour after dawn and milled about the house, minding her business for a time. It was too early for her to disturb anyone she had any interest in interacting with, so she remained in her chambers. Mostly due to her station just beneath the head of the house, hers in the Amoren estate was the room directly across the hall from her Veir’s. It was an exact mirror of his own floor plan wise and quite a bit more luxurious than a Valran would come to expect, but she’d definitely earned his favor over the years through her skill and boundless loyalty.
As the hours of the morning ticked by, several questions floated to the surface of the woman’s mind. For one, her sleep had been disturbed just past the witching hour, when the moon was highest in the sky. While she was too tired to really get up and investigate…it sounded as if the Veir was in the company of another. Which…was odd. His state of mind was so frayed that such a thing didn’t make any sense on top of the fact that it was in the middle of the night and she was fully aware that he’d gone to bed alone. At the time, she dismissed it as her simply imagining things…but…had she been?
As it turns out, she was not. With the sun rising ever closer to achieving its apex that day, the elven woman made her way over to Degare’s chambers intending to wake him. She clicked the door open with utmost delicacy, having a small hunch that he would not be alone. Her instincts were correct– the bed held two figures. The first was that of her Veir…but the second one? It was a man she immediately recognized as the lover he’d just begun to mourn. Taken aback, her face twists in confusion, but she immediately retreats, closing the door just as lightly as she had opened it.
She had so many questions…but this was his first day back. They could wait at least another day. Lucia left the two of them to themselves; she figured they would want to bask in the warmth of the other’s company and…she didn’t want to disturb that.
— —
18th Solace, Glade 4622
The elven woman had left Degare and his lover alone for the entirety of the previous day…but now her curiosity was eating her. She waited until the afternoon, hoping she could catch the Ferrier out and pull him aside.
At one point, she did pass him in the hall– he was alone. Seizing this opportunity, “Degare. I need to talk to you, are you busy?” Her words are quickened Silvain, she sounds more urgent than she really should. He stopped, looking at her with a cant to his head, idly curious. “Hm…? Oh…sure. I have nothing pressing and I’m always happy to make time for you,” he speaks warmly, his face quite a bit brighter than it had been over the past several weeks. Odd…but good…?
Once he agreed, she grabbed onto one of the taller man’s wrists and pulled him away to the eastern wing of the house, shutting the two of them in her chambers. She didn’t want to be disturbed while she finally launched her volley of stored questions at him. Lucia guided him over to the small table near the corner of the room and the two of them sat in the chairs on either side of it.
Degare was never really one to sit idly even in conversations. “Do you mind if I play around with Blood Magic a bit while we talk? I’ll use only my own, of course,” he speaks with a bright voice, warm undercurrents in his tone. Lucia sighs, “I suppose you can– as long as you pay attention to what I’m saying to you, that’s fine.”
Once she voiced that she was okay with him doing that, he pulled a blade from where it was hilted at his hip and drew it across the skin of his inner forearm, up near the bend of his elbow. The Vandikar lets the blood flow freely for a moment before wicking it away with Leeching to collect Blight. Once acquired, he waited for a bit more of his life essence to leak out and then willed the substance to slither across the skin of his arm and into the palm of his hand; he collected about 40mL or so of his blood. Using Bloodshaper, he pulls the liquid into a small, squirming tendril that writhes in the air above his palm, firmly attached to his skin at the root.
Lucia was momentarily distracted by his casting, finding Blood Magic to be utterly fascinating. Blood and gore was an interest that both she and her Veir shared…and she was hoping that, one day, he’d be willing to bestow the Mark upon her as well. When Degare canted his head to get a better look at the little tendril in his hand, the collar of his shirt shifted to reveal the diffusion of dark colors, broken blood vessels and bruised skin on the delicate flesh of his neck.
It was at this moment that she noticed the purplish shades of a rather ugly bruise bleeding just over the hem of his rather high collar. She squinted to make sure she wasn’t seeing things and…no, she wasn’t. “This…wasn’t the point of me calling you here, but ah, your neck? What is that?” The woman sounds concerned– especially because of just how high the bruising appeared to reach on the other man’s skin.
As soon as he hears the question, Degare’s face immediately flushes into a deep shade of pink. “I…it’s…” the rapid movements of his eyes indicate that he’s rather embarrassed about revealing this. “Arkash came back and I let him have his way with me, like he’s done before…only this time, he didn’t have Necromancy tools so he opted for a use of force that’s a lot more, um…blunt,” pulling down his collar a bit now, “...this was the result.” Sheepish in tone, his face is fully red now. The color had diffused all the way to the points of his ears. What he revealed was a throat adorned with an ugly kaleidoscopic mess of bleeding reds and purples. There really weren’t many recognizable shapes in the mix of colors, but one could see deeper presses where the points of the other’s fingers must have been and there were horizontal stripes wrapping around his throat as if he’d been choked hard with a ligature of some sort along with the use of somebody’s hands. Whoever it was had offered the poor elf no mercy.
“DEGARE! What is wrong with you!?” Her outburst was loud and extreme as the woman’s eyes widened and brows lifted, knitting together with concern, her whole face distorted in surprise. Immediately after she spoke, she scrambled to her feet and over to him, gently lifting his chin to get a better look at the marks on his throat. “You let him do this?? What…? Why! Are you telling me the truth?” These questions flew from her lips as she gently tilted his head to the side with the light touches of delicate fingers on his jaw. “Since when have you let anyone treat you like this?” The fire in her voice highlighted the panicked concern she felt in the moment. For the whole time that she’d know the Veir, he was always the dominant one in his bedroom relationships.
The man’s lips hardened into a line as he bit the lower one, clearly even more embarrassed than before given his companion’s response. He clenched his teeth together and said nothing to her words while he freely allowed her to look closer at his wounds. It was then that a soft smile pulled at his lips and his amber eyes reflected something warm and affectionate as images from the night he’d received these marks flit through his head. “...yes, I…rather…I invited him to. I know that’s unlike me but…I promise, I wanted everything he did to me. It’s…been this way since he and I first slept together, remember? I told you about that, didn’t I?” His tone is soft, quiet as he admits these things.
When she hears his question at the end of an explanation that, to her, was rather absurd– the woman does recall a conversation the two of them had where he mentioned the first time he and the Dranoch had sex. “Was I really meant to have taken those words seriously? You said he held your heart! I thought…I thought that was a metaphor…? You mean you really laid beneath him while he just did…whatever he wanted to your organs and you didn’t…you didn’t resist at all? No tethers, not a single cast of Bane?” Lucia seemed utterly blown away by this, clearly illustrating that she had absolutely not believed the words he had said in the past. “You knew he was Dranoch at that point, too! A botchling! The least stable! And…and…you let him get that close to you while bathed in a scene of your own blood!?” At this point she’s yelling. She steps away from him and goes to sit back down in her chair, now resting her head in her hands.
The Veir smiles, though it is one that’s embarrassed, rather sheepish in nature. “...y…yes. It, ah…felt good. I…can’t offer…much of an explanation to my headspace at that moment, but…the release of control onto him…felt good. It felt freeing. Along with how warped my perception was from my tethers, I...couldn’t resist; I melted into his hands like wet clay– I became his to shape.” He’s tripping over his words as he’s trying to force some sort of explanation, some sort of defense out, but he’s struggling from conflicting emotions and the pain each word makes his injuries feel. “...and I suppose, shape me he did. From that encounter forward, I’ve…given him more and more power over me. He’s young…about twenty-four. His passion, his enthusiasm…the freedom of his affections for me…? I’m powerless to say no. I cave every time. It reminds me of how I used to view things like this when I was his age…and when I met Averre. Before…everything.” It was almost cathartic to speak freely about these things…Lucia was the only person he could really trust with this information. He hadn’t even given Arkash an explanation quite this specific since…he was afraid to admit it to the other man.
The heat of his embarrassment compelled him to look away from Lucia and back to the little tendril of blood in his hand. It flowed and flicked back and forth for a moment before he used Infusion again to shift its state of matter to solid. Once done, he used Bloodshaper to twist its form from a tendril to a shiny, reflective prism. If he ever needed more Blight, he would gently pull some from the blood in his open wound.
____
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"
