[se] for all her anger
for Maea
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#1
She doesn’t come here often. There is little reason to, outside of hunting, but she rarely needs to stray so far in order to catch some decent game. Occasionally she makes the trip though, finding that there was something beautiful about their ‘sea’. Now that she has seen Torchline and the true sea, she cannot really call it a sea anymore. Not that it ever was, but still, her mind drifts to waves and an endless horizon at the word now.

Today she has a lantern with her, it’s flame flickering in the wind though she finds it is easy to keep it alive now. Far easier than it ever was, and for all her anger at their training, it had worked. When she arrives, Weaver places the lantern down and swings her pack from her shoulder. There are a few small logs in there - enough to catch and practice with.

She uses her little flame, pulling a piece of it through the air and landing it on the log to catch. Not that she necessarily needs more flame, but it’ll keep the predators at bay and besides, it’s far more fun. The day above her is a gray thing, but dry and without the threat of a storm (not that they couldn’t creep up on even the most seasoned on Halovians). The flames roar to life easily, and she grins, her smile wide and pleased, as she grabs a piece of the flame with her magic and lifts it, swirling it through the sky to leave a trail of smoke.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Maea Valair
Hollowed Grounds Ambassador / Loreseeker

Age: 29 | Height: 156 cm / 5'1 ft | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#2
MAEA
Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering
The Sea of Glass had become a regular training spot for Maea. Ever since she realized the deadly potential of her magic, she had kept her practice as far away from other people as she could. Sometimes it came back to bite her, whenever the ice acted up and slipped from her grasp; more than once she had been stranded out here, too weak from burning herself out to make it back that night. But she had started to come prepared for that, and thus these lonely excursions had become something more along the lines of a field trip. A chance to spend time alone, think, both work and rest at the same time... and sort through her thoughts without distractions.

Gods knew, she needed the last bit desperately these days.

Unfortunately, it seemed her favorite spot had been claimed already. From a distance, she saw the snow and ice redden with the glow of firelight, and her approach was cautious, some taste of disappointment coating her tongue... she wouldn't be completely alone today. Upon coming closer however, Maea recognized Weaver, and her moodiness was quickly replaced by curiosity. So far, her few brief interactions with the woman had left her the impression of indomitable will, attitude and with a deep sense of respect.

But they had never actually talked to one another.

"Care to compare notes?" Maea called with a tentative smile, keeping herself well out of range of any errant spells as she tried to draw Weaver's attention. The fire magic reminded her of Maea's first meeting with Zariah, and from the looks of it, their skills were about on the same level at the moment. She itched to see how her water would hold up in comparison...
Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#3
Weaver drops the fire at the sound of a voice. She’d been so excited, so enraptured by her own pathetic skill, she hadn’t even heard the sound of approaching footsteps in the snow. Internally she scolds herself, knowing better. Never let your guard down,” she thinks, though the voice in her head is her mother’s and Erebor’s both. Even in death, they manage to scold her regularly.

Calling a bit of the fire to her hand, just in case, Weaver turns to see who has come to join her. The face is one she knows though, and Weaver drops the fire to sizzle out in the snow. ”Maea,” she says, a pleasant smile on her face. ”Sure. I’d love to.” Behind her, the fire crackles and pops like a normal fire, eating away through the log she’d caught it on. The lantern burns easily though, and Weaver is not concerned about using up one log.

”Do you come out here often to train?’” she asks, curious if this is a popular training spot or just today. It does seem like a good place to do so, a place where she cannot accidentally burn her house down or anyone else for that matter. She’s never really had enough magic to actually need a place away from town to practice and it’s strange to consider that she might now. Weaver takes a step to the side, as if inviting Maea to join her, even though there was plenty of room. She gestures with her hands spread a bit, encouraging the other mage to show off.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Maea Valair
Hollowed Grounds Ambassador / Loreseeker

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#4
MAEA
Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering
Keeping back until she was sure the other woman both recognized her and cared for the company, Maea's smile widened a little more at the invitation. Approaching, she looked between the fire and the log, the pack that seemed to contain still more fuel, and nodded to herself... she'd had to use existing sources of water before too. Interesting.

"Thank you. I do, at least when I want to try bigger things. I wasn't really expecting anyone to be out here... So far, it's only happened once. Hope I'm not interrupting you?" Setting aside her own bag with emergency supplies, Maea stepped back a little, hands at her hips as she considered the surroundings, the sky empty of snow, the water she could feel churn under her feet beneath the thick ice.

What to do? Well... fine control was always a challenge.

Unlike Weaver, Maea didn't have to draw on the ice and snow around them for water. She summoned it from her hand and let it pour down onto the frozen ground, and used her control over it to shape the liquid. It began to pour upwards, curling around the fire and the log and took on the shape of a structure. Pillars of translucent water, reminiscent of those at the Palace, rose up, flattened at the top and arched up, until a gazebo of sorts had formed, with the fire burning at its center. Maea kept her hands at her waist, trying not to rely on gestures to aid her concentration.

"Have you found any limits to your control over your element?" she asked. Her eyes narrowed a bit, focused mainly on the magic; gradually, the water began to freeze, from the bottom up. Hopefully it would be sturdy enough to actually hold itself up. Then she could start working on more elaborate details.
Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#5
”It is an unlikely place to run into others,” she says, amused. ”Gods, I live here and I don’t even come here that often. But definitely not interrupting. I wouldn’t mind some company that understands magic.” Also some company that wasn’t going to throw an ursur at her and pretend that was totally reasonable.  

Weaver watches are Maea summons water from her hand, remembering how Deimos had done the same with fire. That was the piece she was still trying to get down, but she hadn’t been able to actually conjure flames on her own. It wasn’t the most problematic for her, being from Halo and all. She’d been carrying tinder with her and learning to light fires since the time she could crawl (sort of, anyway), and she could light a spark while running into battle and use it.

Still, it would be nice to avoid having to sheath her scythe just to start a fire. She can’t help but imagine herself, scythe in hand, flames around her, charging into the fight. It was an attainable goal, to become a reaper with both blade and flame. Before her, a miniature Palace forms of water, slowly taking shape and solidifying. Maea works without her hands, another thing Weaver has not yet figured out how to do.

”I can’t create fire. Not yet, anyway, though I’ve been getting closer,” she says, moving her fingers to grab at the fire in the lantern. The fire expands, floating through the air, and she shapes it into a ball that hovers above the Palace. A burning, Longheat sun, kept far enough away to avoid melting the ice that Maea is working to make. She can’t quite imagine actually crafting as Maea does, but then again, fire is not really designed for creating sculptures. Though she was learning to shape it into more things, other than swirls and balls. ”How do you do that, without your hands?” she asks, curious how she learned to focus her magic without the aid.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Maea Valair
Hollowed Grounds Ambassador / Loreseeker

Age: 29 | Height: 156 cm / 5'1 ft | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#6
MAEA
Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering
It felt good to hear that she was welcome. That her company was not only tolerated, but appreciated. For all that she tried to put up a normal face and keep a good front, Maea realized she was starved for a lot of things. Normal conversations that did not involve flirting or attempts to push her away, for example. Or not having to tiptoe around sensitive emotions, afraid that the slightest word would push someone off a very literal edge.

Weaver felt incredibly stable compared to Maea's usual friends... but perhaps that was just because they hadn't actually spoken much yet.

"Maybe it will come. My magic grew stronger quite suddenly, without any real warning. Almost killed a friend when I couldn't control it... Fortunately, he was able to dodge in time."

Once the foundation had been laid, Maea began to work on the details, which were her main goal. Standing at quite a distance, she chewed her lip, frowning in concentration as she pulled more water from the surge within her, and began to weave a lattice-work of fencing around the pillars. To form elegant walls. Once those too were frozen in place, she made plants and flowers sprout around the building. Delicate stems of grass, creeping rose vines that bloomed frost-white in the cold hair.

It was fun, but rather taxing.

"Hmm... I can only explain it as a feeling? I can almost... hear the water. Feel it in my blood, in my bones. It's like a song just outside the range of my hearing... and when I listen actively to it, it comes closer.

"Controlling it... is a matter of emotions, really. I don't know if the teachers at the Academy would agree, but I think magic is quite intuitive. I don't micromanage every last drop of water. More... imagine what I wish to happen, and push it to become that way."


Taking her gaze off her work, to pause and rest for a bit, Maea smiled at the raven woman. "Sorry, I know it's vague. I try not to use my hands because they're not really necessary. It's all in the mind... and I'd rather be able to do several things at the same time." If she was busy gesturing with her hands, they would be useless to hold a dagger or a bow.
Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#7
Weaver liked to think of herself as stable, and probably she was. Raised to be as tough as the land that she grew up in, Weaver’s mother taught her children to be resilient, to expect heartbreak. Nothing came with a candy coating during childhood, and Weaver thanked her mother for it now. Of course, Weaver still hurt, still felt, still knew the pain of loss, but she simply coped with it better than others. Life was for living. It was a disservice to those who passed to stand around and waste whatever life she was granted.

Weaver chuckles slightly, only because no one was actually killed. ”Noted. I won’t practice indoors for a while,” she says, pausing for a moment as she watches Maea work. ”I hate to admit it, but that stupid training worked. I couldn’t do anything besides flicker a candle before.” Weaver really wants to hate Zariah, but she can’t quite bring herself to. Friendship seems unlikely, but still, Zariah’s methods worked. The Archmage could turn Weaver into what she dreamed, and Weaver might have to learn to bite her temper down in order to achieve it.

The detail that Maea is able to create is fantastic, and Weaver enjoys watching. The little sun sputters out for the moment, as Weaver watches and listens. A feeling. Weaver is silent for a while, trying to imagine what Maea describes. The concept isn’t foreign to her. When she heals, she can feel the wound, can stitch small cuts and remove small bruises with nothing but a thought. ”No, I think that makes sense.” she says.

Ensuring she is not too close to Maea, Weaver sticks out a hand and stares at it, looking a little ridiculous. Maea won’t judge, she hopes. She tries to imagine the feeling of fire the same way she might imagine the feeling of a cut. She can feel a shimmering warmth, and for a moment something seems to flicker in her palm before disappearing. She lets out a breath, feeling tired already, and she takes a moment to pause. ”When did you first learn your magic?” she asks, curious if Maea had never known anything different, as Weaver had.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Maea Valair
Hollowed Grounds Ambassador / Loreseeker

Age: 29 | Height: 156 cm / 5'1 ft | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#8
MAEA
Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering
She returned the chuckle with a lopsided grin, nodding that it might be a good idea. Reluctant to admit it, Maea grimaced at Weaver's words about the training. "Same. I've been warned by so many to be careful about Zariah, and I have to say... it's good to find that she can at least teach well enough to put up with all the people questioning my presence here. It wasn't a huge mistake joining the school." She rolled her eyes, thoroughly fed up with the overprotective attitudes.

While a bit self-conscious about Weaver watching her work, Maea didn't let the attention shift her focus away from the task at hand. At least she was able to return the favor as she took her break, and could watch the dark-haired woman try to summon flames from her palm.

"I was about five years old," she replied, not minding the question. Hunching down to sit on her heels, with underarms resting on her knees, Maea shrugged. "Made my bedroom shake from a nightmare, when my telekinesis manifested. Father gave me a beating for it, to make sure I wouldn't use the magic again." Which obviously hadn't worked... not as well as intended at least.

"What about you? How is magic viewed here on the outside?" Naturals though they both were, there was a difference about them. Maea had grown up in a cage, like a trapped bird. Weaver..? Seemed to be far freer than that.
Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#9
Weaver listens as Maea talks of the training, glad that they both feel the same way. ”Same,” she says. ”I have heard the stories of her time in the Grounds, but perhaps she has learned something from that time.” Changed might be too much of a stretch, but learned at least. She did seem to care, as much as Weaver was loath to admit it. Their conversation in the Archmage’s office had not been terrible, and perhaps even borderline productive.

”The only thing I’d question about your presence here is why anyone would actually want to come to Halo,” she says with a slight chuckle, knowing that of course it was the school that brought  the other mage here. There wasn’t much else to come here for, after all. And though Weaver is curious who is giving Maea crap for coming here, she won’t press.

Weaver listens, interested, as Maea talks about discovering her power. For not the first time, Weaver finds herself infinitely thankful for the family she had been blessed with. ”Around the same age as you, though my mother encouraged it. She was also a fire manipulator, among other things. My older brother manipulated the earth. Our mother disappeared when I was still pretty young though, and I sort of refused to learn much after that. Which was foolish, I suppose, but I guess I’ll make up for lost time now.”

She pauses, thinking about Maea’s second question a bit more though. ”Even here, my family is unusual though. The Gods frown upon us, and as such, so does everyone who follows them. Perhaps with a little less hatred though, because it’s pretty useful to have fire mages in a place that tries to kill you with the cold.”

Weaver takes a breath, sticking out her hand again and trying to feel for the shimmering heat of fire. It’s hard to find, as the wind whips at her cloak and against her face, Leafchange already heralding in the bitter temperatures of Halo. She keeps her mind focused on the task though, and after a moment, a little fire sputters to life in her palm. It doesn’t last long, and she finds herself tired quickly, but it had been there. Her face splits into a grin, her power manifesting in pathetic little bits but...it was something. It was progress.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Maea Valair
Hollowed Grounds Ambassador / Loreseeker

Age: 29 | Height: 156 cm / 5'1 ft | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#10
MAEA
Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering
Maea hummed thoughtfully. She hadn't spoken to Zariah beyond that time when the woman recruited her to the Academy, and she really only had the judgement of others to go by. Still, there were so many people with grudges against her that the Launceleyn hardly could be completely misunderstood. "I guess we just have to keep an eye on her," she said, with a light shrug. "And if she starts to act funny... perhaps there are others who would do a better job as head of the Academy." Her mind strayed to Loren, who had already been nursing plans for a school before this. While he seemed happy enough as Grand Healer... perhaps the two tasks wouldn't be impossible to combine.

But Maea laughed when Weaver questioned her presence in Halo. "Would I be considered crazy for claiming to actually like it here?" she asked, grinning. "I always enjoyed snow and cold, so there's that. And this place... it's so bluntly, obviously, on the nose dangerous. Stark and sharp and clear... it's like a dagger to the throat, both threat and promise all at the same time. Very straight forward and to the point, which I like." Halo didn't pretend to be anything but lethal... and yet held so much beauty if you were able to see it.

Listening to Weaver's retelling of her experiences, Maea picked up the tunes of magic whispering through her again. Plucked at it, played more than practiced, creating flowers and plants from ice to fill the ground outside her gazebo. They were delicate and fragile, and would soon be worn down by the constant pelting winds. But for a time this would all stand, here in a land where ice never melted.

"I think the views on Abandoned are the same pretty much everywhere," she mused. "Except perhaps among the Fae, their aversion is more for the Ascended. I wonder if there is a way for us to change that. Ludo told me once that I could make amends for the folly of the past by using my magic 'modestly, under the eyes of the Old Gods'... How would you interpret that?" Maea was devout herself, wanted nothing more than to earn the favor of her deities... and would take any alternate views on how to do that to heart, if she could.

"Nice!" she hummed, eyes glittering when she saw Weaver make a spark flare up from her palm. Progress, and so soon..! It felt good to know that perhaps Maea had been able to help bring it about.
Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#11
Her brows raise at Maea’s suggestion, though it’s with a pleased sort of expression. Weaver likes how she says we, including herself even if Halo wasn’t her original home. She likes too how Maea seems protective of this place, how she seems to care. Maybe Weaver is reading too much into it, but still, Weaver nods in agreement. ”She’ll have trained a magical army capable of rebelling against her if she acts funny,” she points out. Of course, she’ll have trained a magical army capable of many things, and she can’t forget Zariah’s choice of words in their meeting, the impression that the Archmage wanted to make Halo some sort of force.

Weaver’s brow rises further at the next statement, but her smile is wide. ”Oh, I like you,” she says breathily. Because here’s the thing, for all Weaver puts down her own home, she does love it. It’s not for everyone and she’ll be the first to admit it, but for those who belong, there is nothing quite like it. ”Do you think you would stay, if not for the school?” she asks. Or even after the school, if there is ever such a time. Weaver can’t quite fathom hitting a point where she doesn’t need to keep learning, but there might be a time where she does so in a different fashion.

”I gather there’s a lot of aversion to the Ascended in general. Hell, there’s just a lot of aversion...:” Something Weaver doesn’t quite understand, but she is far more open-minded than the average human. There was too much prejudice running amok in Caido. Against the Outlanders, against the Ascended, against the Abandoned. Where did it end?

Weaver snorts at the mention of making amends though. ”Truthfully, I would call bullshit. The Gods have never even bothered to speak to me, and it’s not like I’ve never tried and I almost never used magic except to start a fire in the hearth. Maybe I’m just bitter about it, but it seems to me that the smart thing to do is befriend us rather than give us a reason to be pissed off.” She shrugs, because what it sounds like Ludo is suggesting is that they all sit quietly and behave and the Gods could just string them along forever.

”Thanks for the tips,” she says. ”It’s a sort of shimmery warmth, the feeling of sitting beside a roaring fire as your skin toasts pleasantly. A little different than water, I’m guessing.” She doesn’t attempt it again yet, giving herself a break, knowing better than to run herself into the ground. Unlike Maea, she wasn’t planning to sleep out here, though she was always prepared if necessary

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Maea Valair
Hollowed Grounds Ambassador / Loreseeker

Age: 29 | Height: 156 cm / 5'1 ft | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#12
MAEA
Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering
It was the mage army part that really had Maea concerned, and especially if it was paired with the casual disrespect towards the Old Gods that Weaver showed. She mulled it over for a moment, shaping some snowballs with her hands to give her something to juggle with - using telekinesis this time.

"I think... that they probably have been given a good reason to be wary of those who possess power, and seek it too greedily," she mused, sharing her thoughts with Weaver. "The Voice... our legends say she was Abandoned too, once. That it's because of her we were shunned... and that's why both her and the Ascended have a bad reputation in the Grounds. It's better than it was, but... try ask a Fae what they think of the Ascended. They've banned them from the Greatwood, especially after the Blight."

Raising the snow with her mind, Maea began to play with it, testing the limits of her reach, of her ability to focus on more than one thing at a time. Not only had her limits been extended, she found, but she could lift far heavier things now, too... Thoughtfully she tugged at the burning log Weaver had brought, and hummed in startled delight when she found herself able to lift it without problem.

"As for staying here... Yes, I might. Could definitely see myself living here. It's just..." She blushed a little, teeth worrying at her lower lip. "I'm... seeing someone. And he isn't too fond of the cold. Has a lot of bad experiences with Halo too, so I'm a bit... torn. If it came to making a choice... but I'm not sure it will."

Her gaze fell, and the snowballs, the hovering log, all the magic just faded, settling slowly back down. Like the gentle shrug she offered, a simple rise and fall of shoulders that seemed rather small under the ragged, black shawl she always wore.
Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#13
She may have little respect for the old gods, but she wasn’t a fool, and she had a healthy fear of them. She has no ambitions, no dreams of raising an army to repeat history. Whatever respect she lacked stemmed from hurt, from rejection, and it was easiest to wear such emotions as bitterness and anger than to admit she simply wished they cared. ”I am sure they do have good reason,” she agreed, knowing the history, knowing that once someone turned on them. The Voice, probably, amongst that crowd. ”It just seems to me that to keep us close would serve them better. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, and all that. Instead they shun as, and it feels like betrayal and punishment for a crime we never committed.”

Weaver shrugs. They perhaps would not see eye to eye on this, and that was okay. Weaver can understand, she supposes, because she might come more readily to their defense if they had ever bothered to show her even a glimmer of kindness, as it seems Ludo has done for Maea. But they have not.

Weaver watches, a light laugh escaping her, as the burning log drifts into the air with the snowballs. Weaver tugs at the fire around the log, taking pieces of it with her and painting them across the sky, leaving streaks of gray smoke against the gray, Halovian sky. It is vastly easier to work with existing fire than it ever had been, and she finds she can move the flames with her hands tucked beneath her cloak with more ease than she expected, though her concentration falters a bit as Maea speaks again.

”Oh?” she raises a brow, interested in the way a girl friend of much longer might be interested, but Weaver is quick to befriend those around her. She cares fiercely, even when she is unwilling to admit it. ”Any chance you want to share who this someone is? I won’t pry, if you do not though.” The fire in the sky flickers out entirely, erased by her curiosity in the boy instead that leaves Maea worrying on that pretty lower lip of hers.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Maea Valair
Hollowed Grounds Ambassador / Loreseeker

Age: 29 | Height: 156 cm / 5'1 ft | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#14
MAEA
Carry me through this world alive
I feel no more, this suffering
It was very much like listening to an echo of her own thoughts, not so very long ago. Thougths she still shared, and very much agreed with even now. "You're not wrong, really. I've been lucky," Maea admitted. "Ludo has been kind to me. Appeared to help when no one else would... I really wish all the gods would give everyone else the same benefit of the doubt. " It certainly would gain them more allies, and remove the risk that others went the same path as The Voice.

Maea watched Weaver bend the fire from the log, and smiled at the new ease with which they moved. The decrease of movement the woman used, her hands prone and still. It looked very much like progress, and made her wonder how much she would have grown and benefitted from having a training partner earlier in her development.

Her murmured confession quickly caught the attention of the other woman however, and as Maea's magic sputtered out, so did Weaver's. The pale girl blushed under the intrigued eyes, dark and keen, and for a while she wrestled with herself. Tried to decide whether she wanted to reveal this, or... but no doubt the raven-haired beauty would find out sooner or later.

"It's okay, I don't really... mind. It's... it's Sunjata," she said, the blush deepening into a bright scarlet, made all the more apparent for her pale complexion. Her expression was a mix of complex emotions tumbling over each other as she said the man's name; soaring delight, slight embarrassment, the kind of rosy glow brought on by genuine love... and it all fell under shadows of sadness, when she reminded herself of how precarious that whole relationship had become. If it still even existed... The letters exchanged had not been promising.

"I... he said you would open a bar, here? An affiliate to the VlamVloed..." A gentle way to suggest that Maea had been told a lot of things. Knew that the bar would be more than just a tavern or inn.
Bury me in this cold light
I feed the wolf, and shed my skin
♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦


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