[attr="class","gold"]...sanctuary in their hearts,
[attr="class","gold"]and in the hearts of their descendants...
ulla
[attr="class","sun"]I Distress You ;
I Draw Fast To An End
A surge of magick rushed back to her, jolting the elf as well as the heap of garbage she had hidden underneath. Who could notice, in the rearwards shadow of the great Library, the rustling pile of rubbish or the once-small figure beneath it. Wrapping her parka close, Nagiko Quilliam sat upright with equal parts dismay and disbelief painted on her face. She sought to feel for her beret's continued presence and in doing so touched the top of her hand faster than previously possible. Outside of that treasured outerwear of hers digging into her elbows at each turn, and sleeves running much farther up than she recalled, Nagiko Quilliam noted how the cardboard she called 'bedroll' no longer fit her as well as it had.
The young elf stood up with frightened caution. She became aware at last at how she had grown taller, that she had felt a large strain lifted on her magickal capacities, and fell right back down the ground. She noted the strange certainties now marked in her recollection, fragments of experiences that had only occurred to her upon her awakening. A brimstone scent wafted in and out of her ramshackle memory, vague shrieks and cries lingered without relent. Nagiko Quilliam grasped at her hair as it now appeared longer than she remembered it to have been before laying her head to rest, just some days ago? Fingernails scratching themselves, crushing themselves in futile attempts to crawl through Pavane's cobblestone streets occupied her mind, even refracting to induce a light pain in each of her fingertips.
An instance of lucidity struck Nagiko Quilliam, affording her time to turn around and see the pile of colourful candies appear atop the cardboard she called 'bedroll'. Had she not the wits about herself to know they were false creations, her own false creations, Nagiko Quilliam's tale could have been consumed by itself, much like a serpent ravenous for what it believes to be another serpent. What more, her wits told her, was the tinge of ominous crimson oozing here and there within the pile of candies. A stench, a revolting and putrid stench, not of flesh but of the flesh-eaters' own, billowed through her, rattling Nagiko Quilliam to quickly maneuver her novel and reinforced frame to make a sweeping gesture with a fist. The wretched sweets erased from view, whatever remaining sensosomatic charges they had held returned to the elf.
Only later would she hear word of the Council's actions against the Ghouls, and this would send her in a mind-crushing spiral against herself, mired in guilt. Yet stuck in the present, Nagiko Quilliam suppressed an urge to spit up whatever illusory food she had made for herself, instead maintaining sense enough to look toward the direction in which she had heard footsteps.
A forceful blink changed her clothes from ragged and ill-fitting to ragged and properly-fitting, a hand wave produced a popsicle powerful enough to repress the burgeoning storm of consciousness and conscience in her mind.
"H- Hey, can I help you?" coughed a Nagiko Quilliam near ten centimetres taller than she had been days ago.
Oreiades typically cut her time in the library short to avoid having to justify herself for simply being present. Not taking her leave hastily, per se, but there was no point to loitering when she had gotten the information she came for. Generally, scholars she met were not terribly interested in her particular neck of the woods. Magic this, magic that. That was all that she ever heard discussed. It got old.
She took a roundabout, winding route to return to her residence in Mid-Pavane, taking her through alleys and less visited areas. This was a calculated move, as finding candidates patients was often as simple as peeling drunks and junkies off of the cold cobble.
As she rounded the corner of the building she had just left, a figure stood tucked away in the shadow, on two shaky feet. She could sense their anxiety from where she was. It took them a moment to notice her footsteps but they reeled quickly to face her, and spoke.
Elf. Young, by the looks of it. Speaking full sentences, breathing is deep, nonlabored. Pale.
The Witch walked toward her in a straight line. She drew her hood up in a fluid motion to offer her full face to what light there existed, hopefully communicating non-hostile intention. Elves, in her experience about Yggdrasil, tended to be suspicious creatures. She stopped walking, a few meters short from the other.
"But I'm thinking I can help you." To speed this up, an introduction and quick assessment.
"My name is Ori. Your name?"
Last Edit: Apr 20, 2020 14:20:38 GMT -5 by oreiades
"I'm N- Nagiko. And I'm usually not this tall." she said while stretching her arms behind her head. Calling out to someone in the alley had been Nagiko's first mistake, she mentally kicked herself for not opting to slink out of the place as a jackal or loose sock. Too late to illusion a way out of this now, not while the witch was taking an active interest in her at least. Ori's demeanor, eyes too, held a sharp quality to them. Nagiko thought of her as someone who could get along with the other witch she knew. Get along like a house on fire, was the amusing thought that appeared in her mind. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen her in a while. She hadn't seen anyone in a while.
There was a sportiness to the witch's look that Nagiko couldn't help but admire--Nagiko eyed her own jacketed arms after stealing a glance at the tattoos that decorated the witch's. Taking a bite of the popsicle she'd made for herself electrified her bad idea into a good one, such that the elf squinted at her unoccupied arm and with a directed blink, an exact copy etched itself onto her arm beneath the sleeve of her jacket. The pain struck a second later. Her popsicle hand flashed open, dropping the precious treat. Nagiko dove on the ground to save it, snatching it up before it could splat on the stone path. "Got it." sighed Nagiko. Concentration disturbed, her sleeves faded to their original, ill-fitting length to reveal the edges of the inflamed tattoo.
Ori glanced behind the elf, her attention caught on what seemed to be candy wrappers. Bright and sticking out like sore thumbs in the collection of drab colored cardboard...and garbage.
Looks displaced. Probably sleeps here.
Knows name. Alert. Eyes open spontaneously, tracking. Somewhat skittish.
She directs her attention back. "Really? And how tall are you usually, Nagiko? You-- Hey!"
At the sudden reaction, she took a large step forward in case the other girl needed to be stabilized, but before she could reach out... Nagiko dove for and clutched at the treat like it was a lifeline. Interesting. Her brow furrowed slightly at the shifting in appearance, noting the edges of irritated markings on the skin and tattered sleeves that were not so tattered a moment ago.
Pain response?
Obviously an illusionist. Has the strength and means to practice magick, although appears to be faltering.
Coordinated enough to catch a falling object. Reaction time is impressive. Hitting the ground, not so much.
"Lord. I hope you don't make a habit of throwing yourself around." She deadpanned. "Do you hurt anywhere?"
The witch moves to help her up, cautiously, quickly glancing around for anything else that may be glamoured. Offers a hand. She is still anticipating a possible attack, having been kicked before, punched before, spit at, you name it. Desperate actions from desperate people, who don't always want help. "Can you stand?"
Last Edit: Apr 20, 2020 21:30:44 GMT -5 by oreiades
The elf looked up at the witch. "Like a little shorter than you, usually. When I went to bed, I was your height, for instance." She stuck the half-finished popsicle back in her mouth. Bony hands strained towards Ori's, accepting her offered assistance in standing back up. "That'sh really nicesh of you, thanksh." said Nagiko, working up a smile despite the pain still coursing through her arm. "Hm, wait, that'sh rude of me." She removed an uneaten popsicle from her mouth to better converse with the kind witch. "If I was with this other person I know, she'd make me get up myself, hee hee. I can do it myself with time, but by then, she's already down the street, never waiting, always moving." Nagiko would not know until later but Võ Kiều Ry had assumed from the very beginning of the Ghoul Slaughter that Nagiko had been killed, guilty by association from her dealings with one Manson Renard. The elf would not remember either individual's name near well enough to seek them out for the time being.
Just as Nagiko had grown the slightest amount accustomed to lugging around this pain on her arm, a worse sensation hit her. "M- My arm..." She whipped her head back a bit, biting on her teeth. Shivering in place, Nagiko looked at Ori: "Goddesses, do yours itch like this normally?!" She moved her hand to itch the irritated tattoo, the popsicle she'd let go of to do so appearing back in her mouth. "How do you walk around with thish feeling!?" Each scratch helped her subconscious realise more and more of ornate snake design, giving off the appearance of a snake coiling up her arm as the copy of Ori's tattoo completed itself further. In coping with the extreme pain and itch sensation tandem, her teeth audibly cleaved the popsicle, stick and all, repeatedly yet it reformed in her mouth immediately for her to crunch clean through it again.
"Hm. If you looked like you could stand up on your own, I would let you." Her grip lingered slightly, before releasing.
Pulse rapid but regular. Compensating-- Shock? Anxious?
Cool extremity.
Scrunching her nose, Ori watched as the tattoo began to take a more familiar form. She grabbed hold of Nagiko's left arm and inspected it, rotating the extremity externally and internally a few times. She then did the same with the right arm. They both looked red and raw from the itching. She took a second to compare the tattoos to her own.
"They're only itchy when they're hungry." A smirk. "Obviously you like what you see, dear. At any rate, cut that out. Not good for you." How did she 'walk around with this?' Apparently with more ease than it took the other to keep up this illusion. She watched the popsicle fall and then reappear in the blink of an eye, crushed between teeth. Why was she bothering with these illusions right now?
Tachycardic. Slightly tachypneic.
Skin pale, cool. Poor skin turgor. Dehydrated.
Distressed. Reports pain and itching. No urticaria noted.
Thin. Poor muscle tone.
Sick.
"I'll tell you this. I'm a doctor of sorts. We can sit you down," Her eyes flick over to the makeshift camp. "or, you can show face at my clinic. I examine you, try and give you something for the itching and the pain. Either way, we can chat for a bit."
She wanted more information on this mentioned growing. Could be that this elf was confused. Could also be a condition warranting some study. The doctor had never heard of anything like a sudden growth spurt in an elf this old.
"Your choice."
Last Edit: Apr 20, 2020 23:00:32 GMT -5 by oreiades
"Hungry? That's funny. I like that." The snakes' inky colour faded back into her skin and the redness subsided along with it. The popsicle shrank physically until it had vanished between closed teeth. "I didn't think I'd cause you see that. I just t- thought they were cool." Nagiko sweated out a more sheepish smile. "My jacket's a tad small now, so I thought something to cover the arms would've been," Nagiko stopped to cough, colour returning to her face, "Would've been cool."
With a solid stretch of the shoulders, the elf stood up straight for what seemed like the first time in months. "I don't, I don't really have anything to do so I guess I can go with you, if that's okay. I just have to wait until... Oh, I take that back. Already done." she exhaled, wiping some sweat from her chin. "Was asked to lend some cooking equipment a bit ago. Just a knife, one of the squareish kind. I don't cook anyway." Nagiko adjusted her beret, saying, "I thought I should maybe wait but, um, I guess returning something I've lent you doesn't really necessitate any face-to-face, hee."
"Since you're a doctor of sorts, you don't think I'm ill, do you? I quite dislike being ill. Thanks for watching out though, I don't think I'd have noticed if I was. I sleep heavy." In the back of her mind, she pondered if she was being more talkative than usual. Maybe I'm a morning person, she thought as she dusted herself off and looked to Ori. The elf's shadow cast far against the rear wall of the Deoclepia Library.
It seemed that the elf was falling into the pattern of anxious chattering. Typically she found that behavior irritating: how nerves tended to prompt oversharing. For some reason with this particular patient she found it endearing. Maybe it was the flattery in form of mimicry. In any case... Keep her talking. It seemed to be helping.
"A shame," She offered, returning the compliment in hopes of building some trust. "It's a nice jacket. You'll have to find one a size up."
"Mm. Nobody enjoys being sick, but I definitely don't think you're well. I'm not a soup kitchen, but I can give you a place to recover slightly. One that isn't on the ground." Some things the girl said... What was she even talking about? Loaning knives? And not needing to return face to face? Perhaps... There was someone she had heard of in passing conversations. An illusionist offering her magick to those with form of payment. For some reason she had pictured a bit more of a vigilante type.
Dysmorphia? Explains the wobble. And the deep breathing.
"Come with me, then." Yellow eyes glinting with amusement, she walked backwards for a moment to ensure Nagiko followed (also that she didn't keel over). "A short walk from here. We're burning daylight."
Last Edit: Apr 21, 2020 13:01:17 GMT -5 by oreiades
Living in a dystopian society, seven mystic races are trapped due to their own selfishness. Tensions rise between the races and the different social classes, leading up to the constant struggle for power, with no end in sight.
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4/11 - With the Ghoul Purge complete, Pavane's fear shifts from the goddesses towards the Council. Check out the aftermath here to get an understanding of the current situation in the plot.
MYSTICAL SOULS belongs to YUMEKUI, DYLZOE AND LUNARIS. This is an original plot created by staff members.. The skin "Midnight Madness" was created by Dorothia. This includes Board Mod, Mini-Profile Mod and such. Thread list was made by Kagney. User Profile mod was made by Pharaoh Leap. Graphics belong to their rightful owner. Plagiarism is not appreciated and will not be tolerated.