TIMESTAMP: 15th Earth's Rest, Ash 4582
NOTES: Direct continuation of River Styx I
NOTES: Direct continuation of River Styx I
► Show Spoiler
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With a soft laugh, Averre replies, “Aye, but this is my shop…would come across poorly if I didn’t show up. Not that I…doubt your abilities or anything, but…you know how people are.” Much as it appears he would indeed rather continue to lay there, the sentiment stands– it is his shop, after all. With a sigh, the elven Ferrier retracts his hand and sheaths the dagger at his thigh as he moves to get off of both his partner and the bed itself. “Still, don’t rush yourself. I wouldn’t mind continuing after we’re done with the Ferriment.” The sentiment was shared in a light, affectionate tone with playful laughter at the end. “You would, huh…? Can’t say I’m against that, to be honest,” Averre’s voice mirrors his lover’s affection and is sweet as honey. At that, Degare throws back a glance to the smaller one– features aglow with a soft, loving adoration.
At that, the elven Ferrier starts to pick the rest of his clothing up from the floor and begins to dress himself. On this day he wears waist high matte satin black pants with three rows of two shiny silver buttons each. For his shirt, he wears one of fine white silk with loose, billowing sleeves that are cuffed at the wrist. Around his neck, he wears a cravat of the same type of fabric. For shoes, he wears black boots that reach up to his ankles of the finest quality leather. Once he was fully put together, he moves back over to the bed where Averre was now sitting up and plants a loving, lingering kiss on the other’s lips. “See you soon, then, hon,” soft words spoken as the silver elf turns to leave the room.
Under more regular circumstances, it really didn’t take that long for Averre to put himself together and get ready but even after you allay off Sap there is some degree of lingering weakness left by the strain it puts on one’s body. Plus, pallor doesn’t actually heal anything, it only seals wounds, so in this case, Degare didn’t actually know how much slower he’d be. With brisk strides on crane-like legs, the elven Ferrier moves through the main living space of the upper floor and heads for the stairs leading down into the reception area.
Opening the door, about five people have gathered along with the covered body of the deceased that had been carried in on a makeshift stretcher of sorts. With a soft, pleasant expression on a face dusted with lingering color from that which had been interrupted, Degare speaks, “Sorry for the wait– we weren’t sure exactly when you all would come by. Averre will join us shortly.” With that, all five sets of eyes were on him.
In regards to those present, there were two women, two men and one child– all human. From what he knew, they were a mix of Veir and Valran from a fairly minor noble house in the city and the deceased was somebody of the same family that had failed an initiation ritual and expired. Tragic, but not all that uncommon a fate for members of the Entente, fledgling or otherwise. Unfortunately, such an end can leave behind many fixations because the process of failing an initiation and knowing you’re going to die is incredibly horrific for an individual to experience…and most of the time, the person involved didn’t want to die, so they don’t want to let go, either.
The eldest looking male speaks next, “Might we move the body to where the Ferriment will be performed, then? It would be…easier for all of us if we were ready to go by the time he arrives, then.” His voice is hoarse and low both in tone and emotion. In response, “Yes– right this way, then,” with these few words, Degare walks across the room to the wall on the other side where the door to the basement is located. Being that the pale elf was fairly weak, physically, there was not much he could really do to be useful in aiding them when it came to carrying the body down. Thus, he just opens the door and makes his way down the stairs to wait for them.
It didn’t take long for them to follow. The stretcher was manned by the two men while the women and child carried the deceased’s personal effects that would require cleansing. With few words, the Ferrier directs the family members over to the large, rectangular stone altar in the middle of the room. The body is laid horizontally across it and he tells them to place the deceased’s possessions however they’d like beside it. After everything was properly situated, “Alright…at this point, I can begin, or we can wait for Ferrier Averre to arrive. That much is up to your discretion.” His words are calm and polite. This time, the older woman speaks, “I’d feel more comfortable with the both of you here,” she says in a shaky, timid voice.
Shortly after she spoke, as if on cue, the other Ferrier rounds the corner of the stairs. “My apologies,” words spoken with a light bow. “There were a few things I had to take care of before I came down. If everything is ready, shall we begin?” The man is calm, almost somber in his tone and body language. It was always strange to see him behave in this manner around his customers. Though it made sense for the nature of his work, it was such a stark contrast to how the rather impish man usually acted that it always came across as uncanny to Degare. Members of the bereaved family nodded or verbally indicated their readiness and stepped back and away from the altar.
Once Averre made his way over to the altar to stand beside his protégé, “Begin at your leisure, love.” His words are spoken soft enough such that the other Ferrier is likely the only one who could hear them. At that, the elven Ferrier lifts the first of the deceased’s items into his hands and runs long, graceful fingers over it to get a feel for how many ribbons of Ethos were bound to it. This one, at least, didn’t feel too concentrated. Grabbing hold of a few of them, the ribbons of bright, ghostly blue silk became visible to everyone in the room. Simply touching the ethereal fabric was draining to Degare’s ether– not to mention the garbled voices and other uncomfortable sensations from the dead man’s memories.
Much as it was sometimes fun to try and listen to the voices and be nosy by paying proper attention to these cracked and quivering memories, experiencing the failure of a mage’s initiation was not actually something the silver elf was all that interested in savoring. Gathering these ribbons into a ball and passing it off to Averre, he plucks the rest of them free from this particular relic. With one hand he gives that next collection of Ethos to his partner and picks up the next item, beginning to strip it of its ribbons too. For both Ferriers, this particular man’s passing was incredibly uncomfortable even when experienced through the limited windows you get by touching Ethos. It would appear that he died being initiated into Resonance, having his bones shatter and impale his softer bits from within.
The two of them continued to work in tandem until all of the objects that had been brought in were torn free of their ribbons. Once this was completed and the fabric was woven together into one very large, bright blue orb, Averre handed it back to Degare to cleanse it. Holding all of it together was very draining to his ether, and also…it just hurt. Dying to a failed Resonance ritual was definitely a very awful way to go. In front of the altar sat a slightly shorter basin filled with Pathos which the silver promptly submerged the Ethos ball into. As he held it there, it rapidly began to dissipate– fraying and unraveling until there was absolutely not a trace of it left. The last thing Degare did was infuse ether into his lungs and exhale Spectrified ashes onto and around the body. As far as either of the Ferriers could see, there was no longer any lingering trace of a ghost or Ethos on the body or any of the things the family had brought in. The Ferriment, it would appear, was complete.
Now finished, the pastel elf withdraws his hands and shakes the Pathos off of them. Both Ferriers now turn to look at the family of the deceased who were all watching intently. Averre looks up at his lover and smiles, “Wait for me up stairs, then? I’ll finish up with them and collect payment. I’ll join you as fast as I can.” His words are spoken quietly so that only Degare may hear them, but they are warm with his abundant affection. “Alright…might not be able to use that much magic, though– that was…a lot of ether,” he replies, voice equally soft. With a coy wink, Averre responds, “I’m happy to cast on myself, you know~”
At that, the two temporarily part ways as the more senior Ferrier goes to deal with the family and the protégé opts to return to the top floor.
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With a soft laugh, Averre replies, “Aye, but this is my shop…would come across poorly if I didn’t show up. Not that I…doubt your abilities or anything, but…you know how people are.” Much as it appears he would indeed rather continue to lay there, the sentiment stands– it is his shop, after all. With a sigh, the elven Ferrier retracts his hand and sheaths the dagger at his thigh as he moves to get off of both his partner and the bed itself. “Still, don’t rush yourself. I wouldn’t mind continuing after we’re done with the Ferriment.” The sentiment was shared in a light, affectionate tone with playful laughter at the end. “You would, huh…? Can’t say I’m against that, to be honest,” Averre’s voice mirrors his lover’s affection and is sweet as honey. At that, Degare throws back a glance to the smaller one– features aglow with a soft, loving adoration.
At that, the elven Ferrier starts to pick the rest of his clothing up from the floor and begins to dress himself. On this day he wears waist high matte satin black pants with three rows of two shiny silver buttons each. For his shirt, he wears one of fine white silk with loose, billowing sleeves that are cuffed at the wrist. Around his neck, he wears a cravat of the same type of fabric. For shoes, he wears black boots that reach up to his ankles of the finest quality leather. Once he was fully put together, he moves back over to the bed where Averre was now sitting up and plants a loving, lingering kiss on the other’s lips. “See you soon, then, hon,” soft words spoken as the silver elf turns to leave the room.
Under more regular circumstances, it really didn’t take that long for Averre to put himself together and get ready but even after you allay off Sap there is some degree of lingering weakness left by the strain it puts on one’s body. Plus, pallor doesn’t actually heal anything, it only seals wounds, so in this case, Degare didn’t actually know how much slower he’d be. With brisk strides on crane-like legs, the elven Ferrier moves through the main living space of the upper floor and heads for the stairs leading down into the reception area.
Opening the door, about five people have gathered along with the covered body of the deceased that had been carried in on a makeshift stretcher of sorts. With a soft, pleasant expression on a face dusted with lingering color from that which had been interrupted, Degare speaks, “Sorry for the wait– we weren’t sure exactly when you all would come by. Averre will join us shortly.” With that, all five sets of eyes were on him.
In regards to those present, there were two women, two men and one child– all human. From what he knew, they were a mix of Veir and Valran from a fairly minor noble house in the city and the deceased was somebody of the same family that had failed an initiation ritual and expired. Tragic, but not all that uncommon a fate for members of the Entente, fledgling or otherwise. Unfortunately, such an end can leave behind many fixations because the process of failing an initiation and knowing you’re going to die is incredibly horrific for an individual to experience…and most of the time, the person involved didn’t want to die, so they don’t want to let go, either.
The eldest looking male speaks next, “Might we move the body to where the Ferriment will be performed, then? It would be…easier for all of us if we were ready to go by the time he arrives, then.” His voice is hoarse and low both in tone and emotion. In response, “Yes– right this way, then,” with these few words, Degare walks across the room to the wall on the other side where the door to the basement is located. Being that the pale elf was fairly weak, physically, there was not much he could really do to be useful in aiding them when it came to carrying the body down. Thus, he just opens the door and makes his way down the stairs to wait for them.
It didn’t take long for them to follow. The stretcher was manned by the two men while the women and child carried the deceased’s personal effects that would require cleansing. With few words, the Ferrier directs the family members over to the large, rectangular stone altar in the middle of the room. The body is laid horizontally across it and he tells them to place the deceased’s possessions however they’d like beside it. After everything was properly situated, “Alright…at this point, I can begin, or we can wait for Ferrier Averre to arrive. That much is up to your discretion.” His words are calm and polite. This time, the older woman speaks, “I’d feel more comfortable with the both of you here,” she says in a shaky, timid voice.
Shortly after she spoke, as if on cue, the other Ferrier rounds the corner of the stairs. “My apologies,” words spoken with a light bow. “There were a few things I had to take care of before I came down. If everything is ready, shall we begin?” The man is calm, almost somber in his tone and body language. It was always strange to see him behave in this manner around his customers. Though it made sense for the nature of his work, it was such a stark contrast to how the rather impish man usually acted that it always came across as uncanny to Degare. Members of the bereaved family nodded or verbally indicated their readiness and stepped back and away from the altar.
Once Averre made his way over to the altar to stand beside his protégé, “Begin at your leisure, love.” His words are spoken soft enough such that the other Ferrier is likely the only one who could hear them. At that, the elven Ferrier lifts the first of the deceased’s items into his hands and runs long, graceful fingers over it to get a feel for how many ribbons of Ethos were bound to it. This one, at least, didn’t feel too concentrated. Grabbing hold of a few of them, the ribbons of bright, ghostly blue silk became visible to everyone in the room. Simply touching the ethereal fabric was draining to Degare’s ether– not to mention the garbled voices and other uncomfortable sensations from the dead man’s memories.
Much as it was sometimes fun to try and listen to the voices and be nosy by paying proper attention to these cracked and quivering memories, experiencing the failure of a mage’s initiation was not actually something the silver elf was all that interested in savoring. Gathering these ribbons into a ball and passing it off to Averre, he plucks the rest of them free from this particular relic. With one hand he gives that next collection of Ethos to his partner and picks up the next item, beginning to strip it of its ribbons too. For both Ferriers, this particular man’s passing was incredibly uncomfortable even when experienced through the limited windows you get by touching Ethos. It would appear that he died being initiated into Resonance, having his bones shatter and impale his softer bits from within.
The two of them continued to work in tandem until all of the objects that had been brought in were torn free of their ribbons. Once this was completed and the fabric was woven together into one very large, bright blue orb, Averre handed it back to Degare to cleanse it. Holding all of it together was very draining to his ether, and also…it just hurt. Dying to a failed Resonance ritual was definitely a very awful way to go. In front of the altar sat a slightly shorter basin filled with Pathos which the silver promptly submerged the Ethos ball into. As he held it there, it rapidly began to dissipate– fraying and unraveling until there was absolutely not a trace of it left. The last thing Degare did was infuse ether into his lungs and exhale Spectrified ashes onto and around the body. As far as either of the Ferriers could see, there was no longer any lingering trace of a ghost or Ethos on the body or any of the things the family had brought in. The Ferriment, it would appear, was complete.
Now finished, the pastel elf withdraws his hands and shakes the Pathos off of them. Both Ferriers now turn to look at the family of the deceased who were all watching intently. Averre looks up at his lover and smiles, “Wait for me up stairs, then? I’ll finish up with them and collect payment. I’ll join you as fast as I can.” His words are spoken quietly so that only Degare may hear them, but they are warm with his abundant affection. “Alright…might not be able to use that much magic, though– that was…a lot of ether,” he replies, voice equally soft. With a coy wink, Averre responds, “I’m happy to cast on myself, you know~”
At that, the two temporarily part ways as the more senior Ferrier goes to deal with the family and the protégé opts to return to the top floor.
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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"
