I wish I had a river (OPEN)[SEASONAL EVENT]
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
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#1

Remi could have brought an axe with him. Even no he could just create one. Instead though, he raked his claws down the trees repeatedly to peel bark from them making the area seem as though some vindictive prehistoric beaver had come through. The ribbons of wood would make perfect kindling, and honestly, it just felt good.

It was mindless and it made his muscles ached and it took the alchemist's tired and tattered mind off of all that was happening.

Loren. Ludo and his impersonations of his mother and Ianto. The mask. The spire. The barrier. Rory and Bastien and Jigano. Frey and their curse.

But for now all of that went away and there was only the pressure of the wood against his claws as they tore ribbons and ribbons away from the trees.

REMI
It's not a silly little moment, it's not the storm before the calm
This is the deep and dyin' breath of this love we've been workin' on
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
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#2
 
M E L I T A


Melita had never been much of a planner. She’d been sketched straight out of abrupt and hasty designs, storming heedlessly into battle, swinging a sword, a shield, at anything that barred her path. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t – and she’d learned from mistakes, but never to slow down, to take a breath, to scheme out details and deliberate before her earnest efforts burst across the scene.

So this new trial, of maneuvering, foraging, and hunting for the oncoming season, gave her pause, made her reflect, caused her to do something other than search for demons. Her eyes now had to be cast to food other than typical hunting maneuvers; enough to keep her sustained with DeepFrost’s touch, salted, buried in the snow, or anything else she could snatch and glean. She’d have to become a predator and scavenger, whiling away miles and miles of terrain to get what she wanted – but at the very least, she was determined. It was new, it was foreign, it was unfamiliar, but she took to it with her typical haste, her rushing motivations, her instinctive, impetuous ambitions.

The Woodlands were a first stop – she and Fangorn, walking down the lanes of groves and trees, hoping to catch and snag anything edible. The bag slung over her shoulder was a necessity, and already contained a few traces of winterberries once laden on a few low, hanging branches of brush and fern, and she’d peeled them off with little hesitation, hoping to discover they were nourishing later on. A few late apples had remained, but not for long, plucked by her grasping, ravenous, mercenary hands and stuffed into the satchel. She hummed as they worked, her little gourd sniffling along patches of undergrowth, rime, and snow, hoping to catch a whiff of vegetation or animals hidden and lurking beneath the depths.

But then the sound of claws, dragged and scratching down a length of wood, gave her great pause – she sucked in a breath, narrowed her stare towards the decibels, and dared a glance at Fangorn. It’s eerie eyes were pinpointed in the same direction, but he didn’t appear perturbed, frightened, or concerned, so she didn’t either, but followed the notions and noises out of pure curiosity.

It was a lion, she noted, after peeking around a long bough. Her own lack of fear was likely embedded from long ago, back when Iskra first transformed, and she watched as his features turned into tufts of fur and long, powerful claws. But this wasn’t Iskra; another stranger, unknown and foreign, causing her to tilt her head, stray away a couple of meters, grabbing a fistful of more berries, stuffing them in her bag while Fangorn lurked behind, pretending to look enchanted and allured by the promise of more food, and not completely intrigued by the massive carnivore’s actions. “Hello,” she uttered, a little softer than normal, not daring to incite or provoke it, existing in the same space, the same atmosphere.






Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
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Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
MP: 3059
#3

Too distracted by the bliss of raking the bark away from the trees and the subsequent noise that it provided, it wasn't until the girl actually spoke to him that Remi was alerted to her presence at all. If he had to be a predator for 'real' he would make a terrible one surely. Spinning around, Remi quickly shifted back into his regular body. Being startled as a lion tended to encourage his more uncontrollable instincts to take over. And, being in the Woodlands where he felt far more susceptible to Ludo's trickery, the last thing he wanted was an unstable mind.

"Hello!" He greeted brightly, his cheeks rosey both from the adrenaline as well as the briskness of the air. Running a hand through his curls and taking a happy breath, he noticed the vampire gourd lingering on the ground. Narrowing his brows and raising a hand (not that he had any sort of particularly offensive magic, it was merely a reaction), he halted when he noticed the creature gazing up at the girl almost with adoration. And, even if he was wrong about the expression, it definitely wasn't biting her. "Ahh..." He began uncertainly, a crooked smile on his lips as his gaze flashed back up to Melita's face, searching for understanding.

REMI
Traded my soul to free my mind, "can I go back to being blind?"
I ask myself one too many times
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Lily Balfour
Entertainer

Age: 34 | Height: 5'9'' | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#4
lily
from what i’ve tasted of desire
i hold with those who favor fire
She has to keep telling herself that virtually every “weird” thing that she comes across can now be attributed to MAGIC and therefore it’s ok that it all is very much outside the ‘normal’ box.

Like a Lion transforming into a human man, and a bouncing gourd following a fellow redhead. The appearance of the lion almost made her piss herself, sending her shaking behind a very large tree about fifty feet away. She doesn’t come out until she hears a young, female voice pipe up in greeting - and she doesn’t seem worried at all. Lily frowns and then peeks out from around the tree trunk, where, to her utter amazement, the Lion shifts. And this - finding out how he can do that - that is SO much more important than all the other questions she had before.

So Lily pops out from her hiding place, looking at the two of them with a thousand questions in her eyes. “But you… how… I mean. Jesus.

A close second is… why is the Lion making firewood of the tree? Shouldn’t it just go… kill something?



HI IM CRASHING THANKS! <3
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
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#5
 
M E L I T A


As the man shifted, she realized he really wasn’t a stranger at all. Though she had no name to the face, she’d seen him before, amidst gatherings, along the discussions pertaining to monsters, mayhem, and death that wasn’t. “Oh! It’s you!” Her words took on more luster, softness giving way to her persistent effulgence. Her approach was less guarded too, no longer stationary, maneuvering along the wood line, closer and closer until she was a few yards away, bag tucked against her shoulder. The youth reflected his brightness – no need for alarm, for peril, for treachery, for devastation and annihilation; it was in the ease of their meeting, the gentle sway, the lack of danger. She noted his gaze pinpointing on Fangorn, and the pumpkin responded in kind by retreating further behind her figure, and she would’ve explained everything right then and there (he was the last and I had to try ready to set free from her lips, like she hadn’t been amongst the many fighting and obliterating them), had another not popped out from the thicket.

There was moment where Melita was irritated at herself for not noticing the other one; too distracted, maybe, or her senses were going (those clear-cut ones from the Rift, where demonic essences overflowed, overwhelmed, and the note to run or to fight bewildered every other nuance and emotion). Otherwise, she was perfectly content with more flaming-red hair and confusion, proffering a more generous smile despite the inquiries bombarding them. They weren’t technically for her anyway; Melita had been born into realms of magic, of enchantments, of invocations sprung from gods’ lips and deities’ dreams, of ambitions flanked by sorcerers for hundreds of years. She just hadn’t been amidst the blessed, had been forced to forge her own path by sheer dedication, persistence, and sometimes dumb luck. Her friends’ consecrations had been beautiful to see, to know, and to understand, but she could see where one would be bewildered, shocked, by the existence of shifting beasts and figures, of men changing to lions, of oblivion resting on the heels of mortals. The honeybee child would allow the man to explain it anyway – it wasn’t her place, nor her talent.

Instead, she proffered ways of introductions and laughter, a spring of her own radiance and brilliance. “I’m Melita, and this is Fangorn.” Her hand extended towards the gourd, who glared at them from her ankles, and she softened her smile, lowering her frame so her fingers could glide over the top of his stem in a show of ease and faith. The little beast nearly purred. “He managed to survive the great pumpkin purge.” She shrugged, as if this didn’t give her any cause for concern, that he’d somehow either outwitted or outlasted members of the human race for this long, but it was the only explanation she had, because half of it had been on impulse, and the other one basic benevolence. Why this one and not the others was lost on her though – possibly because he’d been the runt, but wise, calculating enough for the both of them. “So I took him in.” The girl settled on this argument as if she’d do the same to any creature – one of those foolish maidens who would try to befriend the most feral of dragons or monsters.






Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
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Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
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#6

Smiling in a way that made his cheeks dimple, Remi nodded. "My name is Remi." He offered, nodding his curled-head gently, his thickly accented voice rolling off of his tongue. Eyes alighting on the creature, he waited for an explanation before the duo became a trio (of the human variety anyhow). Blinking his surprise away—Remi never had been particularly aware of his surroundings, and with the cold making the blood pumping in his ears sound all the louder for it, it was hard to hear—he smiled at Lily despite her rather exasperated introduction.

Glancing at the tree, Remi offered the two women a bashful sort of smile, running a hand awkwardly through his curls and offering an apologetic sort of shrug. "Even large cats like to scratch things." He chuckled before trying to draw his expression into something slightly more serious.

Melita's explanation was surprising, if not rather endearing. It would be foolish to assume that all of the gourds that had arrived so suddenly last season were monstrous, and yet nothing Remi had witnessed indicated anything to the contrary. "It is a lucky thing he was not made into a pie." The alchemist mumbled, looking down at the rather shy looking creature with a smile.

Turning, Remi produced a length of twine and began to wrap up the ribboned-pieced of bark into a neat bustle. "For LongNight." He said by way of explanation, though that was probably obvious. Natural or not, most of those he'd run into had heard about the week-long darkness and all that it was meant to entail. "The Rathskeller is going to offer a place for everyone to stay, if you are looking for a place to be." He continued conversationally. "And because it is under ground, hopefully the noise will not carry quite as much as it might in the domiciles."

REMI
Traded my soul to free my mind, "can I go back to being blind?"
I ask myself one too many times
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Lily Balfour
Entertainer

Age: 34 | Height: 5'9'' | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#7
lily
from what i’ve tasted of desire
i hold with those who favor fire
Neither of them seem particularly alarmed at the shifting (in Melita’s case) or the bouncing gourd (in Remi’s case), so she attempts to relax and just take in the information. Starting with her name. “I’m Lily. Nice to meet you…” a weak smile and equally weak wave of her wrist accompanies the announcement, as she is painfully aware that she doesn’t have anything special about her. She wants to say that she likes the pumpkin’s name, but it seems rather silly in her head, so she keeps it back.

As the man bends down, Lily takes a couple of steps forward and makes a motion to allow her to help. She can carry things, at the very least, since Remi had done all the hard work. “I’ve heard of the Rathskeller, but don’t really know where it is… Maybe I could carry this and your lion… form? Could carry a big branch or something?” She looks at Melita, the younger girl, and motions her over. Seems like fire is important during LongNight and they should have as much fuel as possible. Maybe even take a little bit back for Bastien.

“When is LongNight?” she asks, wondering how much time she has to prepare, or if she should just say fuck it and try to join the Rathskeller crew.

Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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#8
 
M E L I T A


This was a more relaxing disposition, to which Melita responded with aplomb, a winsome smile and impish delight in the curling and coiling of unraveled names and nuances. Fangorn hissed at Remi’s pie comment, but the girl patted him soothingly across the arch of his stem and laughed, muffling too much of a blistering ebullience, desperate not to offend her new companion. He sulked, a pathetic frown etching his eerie features, and she left him to his pouting, turning her attentions more to the regard of LongNight ideals and plans.

She didn’t have any, to be quite honest. She’d been content in gathering her berries, but hadn’t gone so far as to think of fuel or shelter; satisfied with staying in Iskra’s house or eventually grabbing her own bunk and sanctuary. The youth had lived by threads and strands ever since they’d come to the Rift – havens and refuges had been caves with hollowed sanctions for her to linger within as a monster passed by, food had been whatever she could catch, and light had been the wary glow of a fire, never left too long in case it lured another beast so its midst. She listened to the Rathskeller potential, placed it within her mind in case it became a necessity to crawl her way towards a pre-designated sanctum.

The girl didn’t shudder at the notion of LongNight; she’d long since been exposed to evenings spent secluded and forlorn, desperate and afraid, clutching her weapons and waiting to stab or be consumed. But she did want to hear more about its potential, about the sentiments surroundings its expanse, how long it actually occurred, what demons and fiends lurked along its impending threshold. She’d fallen strangely silent in her musing, usually torn between obliging a thousand thoughts to her membrane and spilling them out for all to hear. After Lily’s interest and intrigue, it eventually came as she began to reach for bundles of wood Remi had splintered and fractured away from its previous residence. “What else can we expect from LongNight?” Was it all just darkness – no light, no sun, no serenity – or was there something more, demons and infidels unfurling their way through corridors? Were they meant to hide, scurry away, underground like Remi had said? It wasn’t in her nature; she clenched her teeth at the thought, wondered if she should be more and more weapons in her clutches instead of just food and fuel.





Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
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Posts: 10,723 | Total: 16,193
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#9

Remi nodded thoughtfully. There was something rather embarassing about the magic he suddenly found within himself. The man was a commoner in the land he had come from, and, given his ability to shape-shift, was the very bottom of the proverbial ladder onto which everyone stood. To just wave his hand and solve problems with magic now seemed callous in some strange way, and undeserving in another. Even so, Remi would not struggle needlessly just to try and maintain whatever bland-ness of rank he'd come to Caido with, but nor could he help the rather sheepish expression that suddenly curved his lips. "Perhaps a sled will be easier—" He said, and with a wave of his hand, one appeared. Just large enough to carry the bundles and with a handle to easily pull it along the snow. "It is much harder to speak with a mouth full of sharp teeth after all." He added with a chuckle, hoping to shift their attention from his little magical display.

"I believe it is the last week of DeepFrost. The end of it is meant to herald the next season. Flowerbirth, I believe it is called?"

Glancing towards Melita, Remi hummed a thoughtful note under his breath as he placed the remainder of the wood into the sled and began to pull. The skies moved easily—though somewhere along the way the alchemist had gained a good deal of muscle, which helped greatly. "I have not been here long enough to have experienced it for myself, so all I know comes from the stories I have heard, or what I have read in books. But other than coaxing the luxere to stand guard outside of your home, you are meant to dampen all noise and remain as silent as you can." He shrugged, as if to reference back to why they were planning on staying at the Rathskeller, conveniently located under ground. "I read in a book that to get back at one's enemies, you can spread raw meat by their doors to encourage monsters to attack...At first I could not imagine that actual monsters would be around, but by all accounts it seems that is precisely what to expect."

REMI
Traded my soul to free my mind, "can I go back to being blind?"
I ask myself one too many times
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Lily Balfour
Entertainer

Age: 34 | Height: 5'9'' | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#10
lily
from what i’ve tasted of desire
i hold with those who favor fire
Perhaps it is the novelty of magic to Lily, but it is far more likely that the lion-man is a genuinely delightful individual and so while her reaction may seem excessive, it is fully warranted. She claps her hands in delight at the appearance of the sled, taking joy in the appearance of something out of nothing. But before she can place one of the bundles of bark on the sled, the non-magic user reaches out to touch it, confirming that yes - it is real and can bear weight. Of course once she verifies what she sees as real, Lily eagerly begins to load the sled, as if to say that even though she can’t do much in the way of cool magic-y things, she is still useful.

She will, however, happily leave Remi to pull the load through the snow. She is not quite so labor-hardened as some other women might be.

Instead, she walks by his side, stretching her legs through the snow and overall beginning to work up a sweat, even in this cold weather. The redhead listens closely, eyes widening at the mention of revenge and monsters. She throws a glance to Melita, and then can’t help but interject, saying rather fearfully, “But what if someone puts meat outside the entrance to the Rathskellar and the monsters all come for everyone gathered there?”

Is she hedging her bets? Should she shore up the Church of Safrin or go in with Bastien? Should she join the people at the Rathskellar?
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
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#11
 
M E L I T A


Magic had been common in her homeland, and despite the fact that she held none in her power, the youth didn’t bear any jealousy or envy towards those blessed with invocations. Instead, she’d always marveled, smiled, been fascinated by the kinds of things others could do simply by turning their wrist, by flicking their fingers, by summoning up the thought of barbarity or benediction. She thought about clapping when Remi’s skills furnished a sled from nowhere, but Lily took care of that for her, and the youth grinned all over again. She took the hint, and gathered up the strips of bound wood, carefully placing them along the container.

The girl listened as she worked, taking in the information about forthcoming LongNight. She already had a problem with silence, so it was a good thing to note that she’d have to alter her entire being for the ominous week. Coaxing some luxere to stand outside Iskra’s house, where she’d invited herself in and had yet to leave, sounded a bit more convincing and probable; perhaps she could entice them with fruit and lead them back to the promised land, maybe gather a few more apples and place them outside the home.

The notation about raw meat thrown at another’s domicile, for enemies and adversaries, was just the sort of treacherous action that the Rift would’ve utilized. There’d been enough monsters, demons, and wraiths to maul an entire village – but they’d never stayed in a sanctuary long enough to ensure this sort of tradition took place. She frowned, mulling it over, while Lily dug deeper into the inquiry, and left the query hanging there. What if someone bothered to do such a thing? Would they all stand and fight? Would they have a chance against whatever lurked out there? Her eyes slid back to Remi, awaiting the verdict, pondering over how deep vengeance and cruelty lingered here.





Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
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#12

Almost a bit shyly, the alchemist flashed Lily a small and uneven smile at her obvious amusement at his conjuration. Every instance of magic use still felt like it was somehow stolen. Someone like him shouldn't possess this sort of arcane skill. That, and Ludo had certainly made it seem like a curse when he'd bestowed these powers upon him. Even so, it had made his life easier. Glancing towards Melita out of the corner of his eye to gauge her reaction, he chuckled boyishly as he soldiered on forward when they'd finished packing the sled.

Remi glanced towards Lily thoughtfully, shifting his grip on the sled slightly as he navigated through the snow. "Well I would hope that if anyone meant any of us harm, that they would not exact their revenge on an entire group if innocent individuals. But it is possible I suppose." He acknowledged with a gentle dip of his curly head. "I will add it to my list things of things to check." He added with a chuckle. "Then again given those who have already said they will be staying down below with us, I think you would be hard pressed to find anywhere safer to be."

Eventually the woodlands bled away and the settlement came into view. Halting, Remi glanced over at the haul of wood they'd gathered and nibbled the inside of his lip. "Why don't you both take this, especially if you will not join me at the Rathskeller. I can always get more."

REMI
Traded my soul to free my mind, "can I go back to being blind?"
I ask myself one too many times
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Lily Balfour
Entertainer

Age: 34 | Height: 5'9'' | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#13
lily
from what i’ve tasted of desire
i hold with those who favor fire
“You would be hard pressed to find anywhere safer to be,” Remi says, and Lily believes him. Foolishly, perhaps; but if she must choose who to throw her lot in with, she would choose him with his magic over a week without such reassurance. But then there is her host to think of… No, she should ask him first, see what he thinks they should do. Lily smiles and shrugs a little, not going to decline his generous offer.

“Well, If you insist. I’m staying with Bastien right now… will ask him what his plans are for LongNight. Thank you, Remi. Let me know when I can repay the favor.” She turns to the younger redhead and also offers her a smile. “It was lovely to meet you too, Melita. Hope to see you around.”

And with that, Lily takes one of the bundles of wood and heads back towards the Church of Safrin to investigate more regarding their… predicament.




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