7th Frost, 4621
Terrified.
The moments of the battles of nameless reptilian creature he laid his eyes upon in the badlands. It was daunting to say the least, yet Caladrin made his way alone; away from the political chessboard known as Entente Square. He took a moment to gather his thoughts as he had been terrified by family prospects. He was terrified of failure, ruin and the mistakes he could make along the way; a path that had lead him in extreme cases of social anxiety when out in public. He chose to keep himself to himself at times, although the only one who appeared to understood his pain was his stepfather, Tyrik. He stood amongst a pond, surrounded by lilies, freesias and other blooming flowers as he contemplated his thoughts.
He stared at the sunsetting in the distance as he exhaled deeply, closing his eyes. The wind blew in the direction as he remained hooded within his Entente garbs. A gold-lined jacket with floral patterns intertwining symmetrically with his buttons along with feathered epaulets, followed by a golden facemask, which covered half of his face. He had been well decorated with the status, although he had nothing to show for it. He possessed magic, but he wasn't powerful like most of the great mages within his family. It was difficult for him, especially since only the most powerful Sil'Norai climbed the ranks of the Entente; the pressure was on him to become powerful; to become a paragon of his family.
There was one thing he didn't have in common however; the access to a rare magic which had been lost to the generations of Sil'Norai, during the Bleeding of Venedak. A magic which is now common within the groves of Vendigad. However, he thought the magic was a joke; to grow flowers and maintain the land was something a powerful mage would want to hear? The naivety and underestimation of his magic had lead him to believe his magic was nothing more than a curse.
"What's the matter?" A calming baritone voice brought upon him as Caladrin looked behind him. A Hyr'Norai man stood before him in Entente garbs as he walked towards him "Tyrik... Or should I say, father..." He acknowledged as he stared bitterly into the sunset, yet there was darkness to his voice. Perhaps, there was some sort of maliciousness to his voice, or maybe his voice had a natural contrabass tone to it. Either way, Tyrik would never know if he had upset his stepson or simply pleased him. It was always hard to tell with Caladrin, with the way he conducted himself. He remained poise, often swallowing his own pride when it came to matters with his family and other Entente. He reacted passively aggressively towards his father
"Something troubling you?"
"Nothing..."
"You can't lie to me, I know there is."
"I said nothing." His voice boomed, although his tone gave him away. There was a problem, one that Caladrin kept close to his chest at all times. His shoulders were tense with stress as he could feel the tension rising through him "I just want to be alone..." He said with a deep sigh as there was a sternness to his look as he glared at the sunset in the distance. The Daravinic sky had commenced it's magic hour as hues of pink and purple littered the sky. It was a magical scene, which Caladrin had used to take his mind of the current situation. However, Tyrik watched him as he tilts his head for a moment "It's about your mark isn't it... You're having doubts, Caladrin..." He sighed.
"Don't doubt it, it's a rare gift... A gift that one day you'll return to your people."
Caladrin's look lit up as he looked back at his stepfather for a moment with both annoyance in intrigue, he turned around and sat next to him as he sighed deeply "How is it a gift? Explain it to me..." He asked as he looked back at Tyrik. He sighed for a moment as he looked back at him "Years ago, Caladrin. Before the Bleeding, all elves had access to this magic. The golden elves, the lord elves and even the Fae; they all had the ability of life. It was a gift passed on by three gods. Malek, Azunath and Y'shendra." Caladrin looked at him with anger in his eyes "Don't speak of their names, father, you'll become a blasphemer, especially out in public; theres always someone peeping over your shoulder." He said with a glare, knowing that he had been faithful to Ulendeaism since his birth. His father remained quiet as he looked at him "My point is, it's a gift of life. You just need to have patience, you know as much as I do. Magic is not something that will instantly make you powerful. You must train it, like a muscle in the body." He nodded.
"Come, theres much to teach"
Caladrin looked confused for a moment as he followed him further, on the outskirts of Amoren, where they wouldn't be disturbed.
Terrified.
The moments of the battles of nameless reptilian creature he laid his eyes upon in the badlands. It was daunting to say the least, yet Caladrin made his way alone; away from the political chessboard known as Entente Square. He took a moment to gather his thoughts as he had been terrified by family prospects. He was terrified of failure, ruin and the mistakes he could make along the way; a path that had lead him in extreme cases of social anxiety when out in public. He chose to keep himself to himself at times, although the only one who appeared to understood his pain was his stepfather, Tyrik. He stood amongst a pond, surrounded by lilies, freesias and other blooming flowers as he contemplated his thoughts.
He stared at the sunsetting in the distance as he exhaled deeply, closing his eyes. The wind blew in the direction as he remained hooded within his Entente garbs. A gold-lined jacket with floral patterns intertwining symmetrically with his buttons along with feathered epaulets, followed by a golden facemask, which covered half of his face. He had been well decorated with the status, although he had nothing to show for it. He possessed magic, but he wasn't powerful like most of the great mages within his family. It was difficult for him, especially since only the most powerful Sil'Norai climbed the ranks of the Entente; the pressure was on him to become powerful; to become a paragon of his family.
There was one thing he didn't have in common however; the access to a rare magic which had been lost to the generations of Sil'Norai, during the Bleeding of Venedak. A magic which is now common within the groves of Vendigad. However, he thought the magic was a joke; to grow flowers and maintain the land was something a powerful mage would want to hear? The naivety and underestimation of his magic had lead him to believe his magic was nothing more than a curse.
"What's the matter?" A calming baritone voice brought upon him as Caladrin looked behind him. A Hyr'Norai man stood before him in Entente garbs as he walked towards him "Tyrik... Or should I say, father..." He acknowledged as he stared bitterly into the sunset, yet there was darkness to his voice. Perhaps, there was some sort of maliciousness to his voice, or maybe his voice had a natural contrabass tone to it. Either way, Tyrik would never know if he had upset his stepson or simply pleased him. It was always hard to tell with Caladrin, with the way he conducted himself. He remained poise, often swallowing his own pride when it came to matters with his family and other Entente. He reacted passively aggressively towards his father
"Something troubling you?"
"Nothing..."
"You can't lie to me, I know there is."
"I said nothing." His voice boomed, although his tone gave him away. There was a problem, one that Caladrin kept close to his chest at all times. His shoulders were tense with stress as he could feel the tension rising through him "I just want to be alone..." He said with a deep sigh as there was a sternness to his look as he glared at the sunset in the distance. The Daravinic sky had commenced it's magic hour as hues of pink and purple littered the sky. It was a magical scene, which Caladrin had used to take his mind of the current situation. However, Tyrik watched him as he tilts his head for a moment "It's about your mark isn't it... You're having doubts, Caladrin..." He sighed.
"Don't doubt it, it's a rare gift... A gift that one day you'll return to your people."
Caladrin's look lit up as he looked back at his stepfather for a moment with both annoyance in intrigue, he turned around and sat next to him as he sighed deeply "How is it a gift? Explain it to me..." He asked as he looked back at Tyrik. He sighed for a moment as he looked back at him "Years ago, Caladrin. Before the Bleeding, all elves had access to this magic. The golden elves, the lord elves and even the Fae; they all had the ability of life. It was a gift passed on by three gods. Malek, Azunath and Y'shendra." Caladrin looked at him with anger in his eyes "Don't speak of their names, father, you'll become a blasphemer, especially out in public; theres always someone peeping over your shoulder." He said with a glare, knowing that he had been faithful to Ulendeaism since his birth. His father remained quiet as he looked at him "My point is, it's a gift of life. You just need to have patience, you know as much as I do. Magic is not something that will instantly make you powerful. You must train it, like a muscle in the body." He nodded.
"Come, theres much to teach"
Caladrin looked confused for a moment as he followed him further, on the outskirts of Amoren, where they wouldn't be disturbed.
