not where I want to be
Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8 - Int:
Played by: Neowulf Offline
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Posts: 397 | Total: 642
MP: 970
#1
This: the cool spring earth beneath him. His hands scrabbling into dirt and pebbles, fingers digging into the soft loam. Cold toes embedded in cold earth. Elbows. Knees. Thighs. Hips. His trembling breath in the darkness.

He had waited for too long before diving through the fire, and all he could remember was the sight of it all around him

The acrid stench of burnt hair filled his nose. The golden mess splayed over his shoulders was mostly as it had been mere minutes ago, but the tips were uneven; melted. It didn't look to be too bad.

He felt his pulse thunder through his body, the vibration in his veins compounded by the solid earth he lay on. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic, frightened thing. Slowly, he forced his clenched jaws apart, licking his lips. He wanted to swallow the night. The river. The cold, the fire-free.

Beneath the cloak, his tunic had ridden up his hips when he rolled out from underneath the fire. His bare calves were pale in the starlight, the cloak spread over his back and pooled around his knees. He remained motionless a couple of seconds longer, holding on to the earth and listening to what went on around him.

No pain sang through his body.

He came to the conclusion that he was unharmed, aside from a knee he must've fallen on when dropping through the fire. It throbbed a little, but he figured it'd pass within minutes. But that was pretty much where the good ended and the worse began: he was half-naked in a strange forest, far away from home, uncertain of how he'd gotten there, and of how he would get back.

More importantly, he was out there at all. He .. did not want to be out there. Softly cursing Rory began to push himself up with his hands, to get a better look at who might be paying attention to him. He didn't quite want to start climbing to his feet before ensuring his modesty would not get further compromised by doing so. This all was bad enough as it was.

[ Set directly after {DROP} Teine ​​is fortan, probably a Jigano and whoever else is around! ]
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#2
Jigano's path towards his fire-kissed friend had been only briefly interrupted by the elemental woman's sudden change of attitude - and voice, he'd noticed with absent interest. A split personality? A duality of nature? The old, old river and the playful young fire embodied in one magnificent fleshly garment for a short while upon the earth?

Either way, he felt the warmth of their interest pass through him with a start, pressing a hand to his heart as something within his spirit seemed to expand - or perhaps it was that something hidden from him had just been revealed? A sense of power and speed and strength like he'd never known...

That he didn't have time to worry about now. The fire had vanished but not before Rory had fallen through it, landing on the ground with a bonelessness that frightened Jigano more than any fire could have, magical or otherwise. As he moved through the milling people he took care to note his other friends - Amalia, second only to Rory, the baker displaying wings for arms in a way he would remember to ask about later. Maea, sheathed in water. Deimos and Remi, Lucas, Are, and Phoebe, in various stages of unruffled aplomb or only slightly singed. His mind barely catalogued the others, strangers or those he cared for not at all, focusing as he did upon the man in the borrowed cloak who still knelt upon the earth, a fallen star whose light was dimmed but not extinguished.

Jigano did not know what the hunter would want, but he knew that he could not leave him, even if Rory's pride would be wounded by being seen in such a state. So it was that he knelt, using his body as best he could to shield the blond from the sight of those others milling about and beginning to disperse, and offered his friend his hand - to grip, to hold, to steady himself, to use to rise, or to use to pull the fox into an embrace, all would be welcome, but he made no move to touch his friend without permission yet.

"I'm here," he said simply, searching Rory's eyes with a gaze both worried and relieved that no more hurt had been done to him, due to the lorekeeper's failure to once more protect his friends.
Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8 - Int:
Played by: Neowulf Offline
Change author:
Posts: 397 | Total: 642
MP: 970
#3
He was all too aware of the tunic he wore, and how inadequate it was, in more ways than one. Freed from the spell that had lured him from his bed he felt the night chill press in against his skin. It crawled in underneath the cloak.

Unsurprisingly, one of the first things he saw once he lifted his face from the soil was Jigano. His silver hair shone in the dark, his blue eyes grayed out—heat and a sense of dread filled Rory. The flush climbed in his cheeks. His eyes studied the sparse spring vegetation under Jigano's boots. Between the night and his fire-scare he was trembling, a lingering sort of shivering.

He knew that the concern, the offered hand, even Amalia's cloak, came from a place of love, of good intentions, but all he wanted to do was erase the night from everyone's memory. Rory, dreamwalking; Rory, falling through the fire; Rory, laying face down on the earth as his heart raced pitifully.

Rory, the rabbit chased by the wolf.

"I hate surprise fire," he said to the earth, his voice calm and factual, his scars slithering like snakes over his night-bleached skin.

But staying as he was wasn't going to get him back home. He could hate the position he was in as much as he wanted, but that wasn't going to get him back home either. So, he breathed in, and used Jigano's body as the shield it clearly was meant to be. Slowly he pulled himself onto his knees and one hand, the other smoothing the tunic down over his exposed thighs. (He hated how his breath still trembled oh so slightly when he pulled it in.) Then he pulled the cloak around him and took Jigano's hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet.

"Get me out of here," he begged quietly, a wild-eyed animal trapped in an unfamiliar place.
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
Played by: Cirago Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,914 | Total: 7,219
MP: 10170
#4
”You are not alone in that,” Jigano said softly, lightly, trying not to show how fast his heart had raced when he had seen Rory fallen and still upon the cool earth. The fear still coiled through his guts, an icy serpent in his veins, lingering in spite of the relief that had washed through him upon seeing his lover move again, and hearing the rough music of his voice. He wished that the hunter would meet his eyes again… but after his previous experience with fire, the bard could hardly blame him for being shaken and focused inwards.

Would he be any different, having been put to such a test of his greatest fear and left with little in the way of dignity? He could only hope he dealt with it as stoically as Rory was, trembling but pushing himself upwards once more.

He held himself still, tense as a drawn bow as he let his friend rise at his own pace, trying not to stare as the blond straightened his clothing as best he could. What Jigano wanted just then was very much to close his eyes and whisk them both back to the Farm again, none the worse for wear after this excursion. He had chosen to come, after all, but Rory very clearly had not, unprepared and unprotected against the night.

Elegant fingers stilled their faint quiver as they were finally grasped and held, and Jigano pulled up even as Rory rose. The others had left, or were in the process of leaving, and the bard knew they should go after them. Knew, and yet he hesitated to slip his free arm around his friend in a gentle embrace, needing to feel the other man whole and alive against him for a few selfish moments. The plea fell on sharp ears, and something shifted restlessly within him, a sense of power that responded to the hunter’s words and the urgency in his voice. Jigano’s breath shook as he drew in Rory’s scent, fingers curling into a fist against the cloth between the blond’s shoulder blades, and he spoke on the soft exhalation. ”Yes,” he agreed simply.

The restlessness grew stronger, and so he kept an arm wrapped protectively around his friend’s shoulders as they started to walk. He was slowly learning the ways of the forest, and at least knew not to think of their destination (though perhaps the forest would be more than happy to spit them out back towards the barrier, intruders as they were?) as he led Rory back into the trees, away from the river and its strange and capricious sprite. The tension in his chest seemed to grow worse with every step, however, a stretching of skin and bone that demanded release, and even with his fox’s eyes he stumbled in the dark, needing to catch himself on the hunter’s strength for a moment. ”Sorry,” he murmured, shaking his head against the impatient buzzing in his blood. ”I feel… strange…”


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