Common
Force-claiming is allowed here once a week per character, as is blocking force-claims by the Peak/Lagoon (as a whole) once a week. Rollover is on Sundays.
Posted on October 14, 2017 at 06:54:34 AM by keira
 | she should have been overcome with relief.
as she climbed from the depths, with water slipping from her sides and the grasp of the sea releasing, she should have thanked whatever gods may be for the air she now drank and the sands she stood fast upon. she should have knelt to the ground and pressed her lips to the dirt in gratitude. for not all who go into the tides are allowed to return. what she felt, however, was a vast foreboding; and it clung to her in a way that she was unable to be rid of. she should have been wary. she should have been watching. she was, after all, an outlander now- a stranger in a foreign land, which was often a dangerous thing to be. though she had emerged from the sea unharmed, it did not mean that she was forever out of harm's way- some bauble warded against ill. though her world had seemed to crash and burn, life moved on at a steady pace, and no doubt there were wolves, and lions, and beasts more than willing to finish the deed begun by the sea. she knew some of her own kind that would be more than willing to oblige. she was finding it hard to care at that moment. to others, she may have seemed unfazed by the circumstances, basking in the afterglow of surviving a near-death experience. but she was neither at peace or content, and her mind was not silent. it struggled against the hands of fate; of things that were and things that should have been, but more importantly, of things she knew might yet be so, should a little determination and elbow grease pay off. this was not her home and these were not her people, but she would find them. she could not be the last. from his vantage point, he had claim of the high ground- with the sun behind him and the winds blowing his scent further inland, so she did not sense him until he spoke. "i looked like you once." how interesting- he did not cut the image of a very striking woman. she watched him descend the sloping bank, dark and unwavering as a thunderhead billowing across the summer plain; his voice a deep rumble that followed. his words, though not commanding, had a familiar bearing; firm in the undertone with a somewhat polished edge. it was not lost on her as she studied him, the self-assured manner in which he approached her, the almost ritualistic offering of his scent. she had seen the marks of royalty before, but she had no discernible clues as to whether he was newly-risen or old blood to the throne. "it does not last long." she eyed this counterpart skeptically for a moment, knowing well what was meant by his statement. there was some part of her that took comfort from the well-intentions of its meaning, but her gut was not at peace with the finality it hinted at. surreal could surely not be lost to her- she would not accept such a notion; the others were too young to be legends and their history was far from being written. this stranger could not possibly be privy to such knowledge though, and so she guides the conversation in a new direction, one without pity or understanding when there was need of none. "i certainly hope it's not as soon as you imply- i rather enjoy being a woman, truth be told." she can't hide the sardonic half-smile that fleetingly finds itself dancing across her lips; a ghost of her former self. she feels the chilly winds drift in from the ocean, stirring the scents that still linger on the ground about them, and she can taste the strange smells at the back of her throat, reminding her that she is a trespasser here. "do you know this place well-- can you tell me of it? i am...an outsider." she tosses her nose, indicating that her meaning encompasses more than simply this meeting-grounds-of-sorts, and rather, the other lands jutting from the frothing waves that resemble this island, if only in form and not in landscape. "i, too, am from an island. have you heard of surreal isle? there may be others who also washed ashore recently." she may not have been able to conceal the intensity behind her eyes, but she does not speak of her conviction to search for any trace of home. suddenly, a notion sparks in her mind, and she wonders if there is a price attached to this meeting- a hidden cost for the answers she requires. it was rather coincidental that they should meet in this way- he waiting as she washed ashore, and she does not trust in such silly notions as destiny. she knows all too well of quid pro quo, after all- for who could have had a better instructor? "what is it that you want?" | |
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