silverking | ✖ IC CONTACT #3

Ah...of course.

[A pause.]

I wonder, will you be traveling to Wynn this evening to visit the site of his burial?

I think I should.

I will visit it every day... I couldn't do that with General Oror or my people, but I can do that for Orsino.

Allow me to come with you.

[Phrased like a question, it's really more of a gently spoken order.]

Of course, you may come.

I would not be able to leave the gravesite if I went alone.

We can't have that.

[...]

In any case, I'll meet you there.

I thank you, Isley.

You are a very good friend.

I do what I can.

[He disconnects.]

[It's sometime later, after crossing the sea aboard the Victoria, that Isley waits inside the headquarters of the Order in Wynn. He has with him a Native who is helping to carry some supplies: extra blankets, pillows, a basket of foodstuffs and drink, and a few other items. Once the supplies are put away neatly, he passes off some ivories to the Native person and dismisses them. Yaha will be arriving soon...and he needs to prepare all of his patience for dealing with the elf.]

[ It is a little way that the ground gives way to allow the elf to the surface. He sighs loudly as he walks forward to where his father is to lie. His head gives a slight tilt to Isley before his legs give out and he rests on the ground where Orsino will be buried deep underground. No, not here. Anders convinced him to let him be in the cemetery, but he'll still give him a monument here with the tree, since this is where his soul will rest. ]

[When the elf arrives, Isley joins him outside and returns the nod of Yaha's head with one of his own.]

[That is when Yaha's legs give out and Isley watches as the other man's knees strike the softer ground. A minute passes before he pushes away from the headquarters wall and starts toward his extraordinarily dramatic guest.]

Welcome, Yaha. [...] You're going to get dirty if you continue to fall all over the place in that fashion.

Why can't he wake up? I could keep his corpse about the manor and talk to him each day. Eventually, it will be like he is alive.

[Not my manor, thinks Isley, but what he says is:]

The Mist would claim him, if it hasn't already. I'm sorry, Yaha, but...this is the way things work here in Anatole.

[He steps closer and kneels, looking at the elf.]

It's a fortunate thing for the Mist, however. It means his body will not decay, that the memories you will have of him will always remain those where he is handsome.

Besides, I think his presence would be a novelty around...our home. You would only take comfort in it for a little while, and then the absence of a response would cause you great anguish and distress. I'd prefer not to see you troubled in such a way.

[Meaning, he doesn't want to listen to the whining and crying and carrying on.]

[ Turning over on his side, he looks up at Isley. ]

He is very handsome, isn't he? You saw him... so you can attest to his looks. I told Anders that while I do not lust after him, I do not mind if others... in fact, I would like them to... it means that he was loved and wanted.

[ He rubs the side of his face against the ground. ]

I suppose. Yes, you are right. I would miss his voice and eventually, his voice may sound like my own in my head.

Yes, a remarkably handsome man.

[Actually, Isley can scarcely recall Orsino's face having only seen it a handful of times, but he remembers that the man wasn't what one might consider an eyesore. He was...not unattractive.]

I'm certain he was loved.

[...Well, no, he's not, but it hardly matters. He sounds sure, and that's what counts.]

The stone turned out rather nicely, didn't it? [Still kneeling next to the elf, Isley turns his gaze toward the headstone shaped like a phoenix.]

It is a shame there are those that will not know --

[ His eyes widen before he stands up. Brushing off the dirt from his clothes, he holds his hand out in front of him. Lips moving to a silent incantation, the air shifts as he makes an illusion in the shape of the mage in question. His smile is a broken one as he goes to hug the form, before he sighs in content. ]

Of course, Father is loved. [ "Orsino" remains still, unmoving, little more than a stuffed animal conjured up. ]

I think it does. [ Yaha peers over the illusion's shoulder to the headstone. ] I think that he will like it very much. His spirit lives on and on.

[The conjuration reminds Isley too much of the apparitions that the Mist produces far out into the Ruins. Though it might be a comfort to the elf, as Isley stands, his expression is disapproving.]

Yaha.

[A step is taken toward the elf, and a hand placed upon his shoulder.]

[You shouldn't waste your magic this way. There are better uses for it.]

This isn't healthy.

[ He looks over his shoulder, bottom lip jutting out at the sight of the disapproving look. ]

I know. [ Yaha looks at "Orsino." He reaches his hand up to pry he illusion's eye open. ] I can never breathe life into their sight. It always looks dead. [ Flicking his index finger against the eyeball a few times, he eventually lowers his hand. ]

[Isley catches Yaha's wrist next.]

Enough of that. It's unsightly.

[Says a people-eater. Pun unintended.]

That may not be Orsino, and it may not have the glimmer of the man's soul behind his eyes, but it is still in his image.

[Releasing Yaha's wrist, Isley folds his arms over his chest and sighs. He regrets now not having lectured Anders about the clumsiness of his announcement. It had occurred to him then, but he'd bitten his tongue and had hoped for the best.]

[I ought to have expected this outcome, though. Both men are completely irrational...]

We should go indoors. Besides, I have something for you. Something warmer than conjured illusions.

[ Ah.

He looks to Isley then, looking as though he has been struck. No, if he had been struck, he would actually enjoy that. This is more of a broken look upon hearing those words. Shame might actually make their way into his gaze, but he looks away instead.

Once his hand is free, he gestures a little to break the spell which he cast -- the "Orsino" before him disappears in a flash of bright light. ]

You are also right. His embrace is very cold.

[ Perking up just a little, he walks over to lightly reach out to grab and tug lightly on Isley's sleeve. ] A gift... for me? To ease my heart over what has happened with my father? Truly?

[Shame isn't something Isley has seen Yaha express before, not that he can ever remember. Of course, whether or not it's an honest expression, well...time will tell.]

[He permits Yaha to tug his sleeve, in any case, making no attempt to pull his arm away or put distance between himself and the elf.]

It's just a little something, but yes, I had hoped it might ease your troubled state of mind.

This time of year in Anatole, the denizens often find themselves bestowed with unique baskets full of delights suited to their personal tastes. Given my inclinations, I am not actually able to share mine with other people, and more often than not, it goes to waste. Except that this year is different. You're here.

[Wining and dining with Rigaldo is not something he does, and seeing as how Priscilla does not much care for his diet, despite her tolerance of it due to it being an unarguable necessity, there is only Yaha.]

[He steps in the direction of the doors leading into the Mess Hall from the side yard.]

This way. I'll show you what I mean.

Is that what that was?

[ He blinks a little before he reaches down to the ground. It opens up to grant him a basket. Here he thought that it is something that Anders gave him, but all the same, he follows after Isley. ]

I did not -- I thought it was a gift from someone sad that Father is gone. Wishing to offer me sympathies. But... I suppose not. [ He lifts it up to lightly chew on the handle of the basket as he walks. ] I'd like to share this with you, too. I don't know what to do with all my emotions.

They'll be chaotic, but you handle them marvelously... so I think we will be all right with sharing of the meals, yes?

Ah, you received one, too? I'm not surprised.

[He smiles, peering a little more closely at Yaha's basket as they walk. There is an enticing smell emanating from it...]

It would be nice if they came from fellow Scorched and had more of a defined purpose, but instead they are...purposeless. Except that in the food within, and the wine, are often self-replenishing for a few days. It may have something to do with an Earth celebration for giving thanks. Somewhat appropriate still for the timing of Orsino's passing.

[At the doors, Isley draws them open and allows Yaha to enter first, following him into the Mess Hall. A long table surrounded by benches stands before them. It's rustic, but clean and cozy. And on the table? Isley's basket, various items from within it already set out. Strawberries, because he has something of an affinity for them, a couple bottles of wine, and...cuts of meat. Uncooked and miraculously still warm. Still...a little bloody.]

I'm not certain I handle your emotions well, but I'm pleased you think I do. [...] Take a seat. Get comfortable.

I don't give thanks to his going. [ He sighs just slightly.

His steps are light before he comes to the table, and smiles slightly at the meal, before taking his seat. It occurs to him that he shall never share another meal with Orsino. Somehow that makes him feel ill. To lose a father another third time, he tips his head back as he starts to laugh. It's funny, because he cannot keep any family close. His laughter carries on and seems to echo in the Mess Hall. It's funny because it seems he is mistaken with the Gods. They are continue to make him be alone. The only elf. It is like his existence negates all others. Is that his fault? Is it? No, it's fate's. The Gods' of his world's curse upon him.

The hysteria fades as he sets his basket down on the surface finally. Tears from his laughter rolling down his cheeks as he peers to see what it is that he has -- ]

Oh, looks like there are some cheeses and meat... and wine here, too... How tasty.

I would never ask you to give thanks to that...

[Wandering around the table and coming to the other side, Isley neatly arranges himself across from Yaha.]

...I would only ask you to be thankful for the beautiful headstone, for those that remember him fondly, for the Mist as it will keep him forever beautiful, and for company - if I may suggest that. It is, after all, better not to be alone when coping with remorse.

[Allowing Yaha's laughter to pan out, Isley occupies himself with opening the wine and pouring two glasses full. The contents of the bottle refills itself shortly after being set down.]

I hope you don't think that I expect you to overcome this loss easily; I don't. But I would like to do everything in my power to assist you through this time. We are, after all, close.

[As close as being a flatmate allows, at least. And even that is fragile in its existence.]

I shall be thankful for such things. And I realize that there is a curse upon my existence that I did not know until I came to this place. The Gods chose me to live in my world. For whatever reason, they saw reason for me to continue on. It's touching in a way, but I was the last of my kind. And now that I am in this world, it seems like I would have solidarity... but that would break the kindness the Gods gave me. To be the last. To live. And so it is taken from me.

I know of their existence, but do not believe nor worship them.

[ No. He did not believe in them, at all. Instead, he fashioned his own altar and room that seemed so very holy and bright within his citadel. He would bring people to be sacrificed, tortured, and other horrors would grace their flesh before death would finally come to them. Yes, he would defile what it is to be sacred and show the Gods that he will not kneel before them. They are the only betters that he will not, because of their cruelty. ]

Upon that realization, it is easier to accept Orsino's passing.

[ He reaches in to pull out some of the flesh that he spoke of. Red and dripping, he lifts it up to sniff the meat. ]

Oh... I remember this... [ His mouth waters just a little. ] I cannot partake in this meal here... the people would think it ghastly. Do you know what beast this came from?

[Isley pushes a glass of wine at Yaha.]

Mm...I find it difficult to believe a curse from your world could follow you through the Door and into this place. The power of other gods doesn't take root here.

[Rather, he thinks Yaha is out of his gourd and has a tendency to make excuses for the poor state of his mentality. Blaming others, gods, and curses...that sort of lark.]

[He lifts his cup to his lips, eyes on his drink, and takes the smallest of sips. He knows how potent the gift basket alcohol can be, so it is best to proceed with caution. Not that he doesn't make it look as though he is taking a bigger sip than he really is.]

But, perhaps I am wrong.

[Whatever helps you cope, Yaha.]

As for that...a beast called man. Eat to your heart's content. You're my guest here and I'll not deny you food. And, as there is no one else here but us, no one will frown upon your consuming that flesh, least of all me.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Voice to Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action

Action