A conversation between friends

Elene

So, today I thought I'll share a short bit of the numerous roleplay threads I've been involved with, which is also a huge reason for me staying so involved in Aetolia!

This conversation comes weeks after an earlier interaction with Xavin, when Elene awoke from her long slumber only to find the world has changed while she languished within the darkness of her Haven. Voluntarily weighing herself down with work since then, Elene has still managed to eke out some time to visit her old acquaintances, in hopes that she can remember what she used to be through them.

I've clipped the messages where @Xavin was fishing and kept the relevant bits, for ease of reading. For further reference, thoughts from Elene will also be coloured in dark gray.

Xavin's description:

He is an intelligent Idreth of Rajamalan heritage though he bears few marks of his lineage, and stands approximately six and a quarter feet in height. His skin is the pale tone of one who spends much of their time indoors or out of the sun. Patches of iridescent, faintly glowing scales are scattered about his flesh, leaving blots of shimmering blue-green luminescence all across his form. His frame is fairly well muscled, however, and he carries himself with a quiet, practiced confidence. Long, silvery hair, streaked through with jade and cerulean that would otherwise reach to the midpoint of his back has been pulled into a neat topknot. His features are sharp and angular, granting him the likeness of a Tsol'aa, a resemblance that is heightened by his sharply tapered ears. His eyes are broad, their pupils slit down the center, the irises a deep amber hue that has been flecked through with jade. A long, sinewy tail hangs behind him, the end tapering to a rounded point. The back of his right hand is covered with a pattern of black veins beneath the skin, reaching to just before the wrist and a fine miasma of smoke-like Shadow rises from the edges of the spiritmark upon it. A similar pattern of black veins branches from a sovereign-sized mark upon his neck, so dark that it seems to drink in the light. Eldritch violet light surrounds him - a blessing of chaos and dreaming.

(on the left ring-finger) : a knotted band of the hunt
(emanating from the right hand) : a Magister's Spiritmark
(affixed behind the left ear) : a sprawling venantium cuff
(dangling from the belt) : a rawhide necklace of vampire fangs
(securing the hair in a topknot) : a platinum phoenix feather hairpin
(slung about the hips) : a Selunic weaponbelt
(tucked into the left boot) : an obsidian knife etched in runes
(draped from the shoulders) : a regal, crimson and silver cloak
(looped around the right wrist) : a delicate chain of polished platinum
(coiled around the forearm) : an orange star tattoo
(protecting the feet and lower legs) : worn leather boots
(tucked into the shirt) : a length of elemancer's focusing beads
(wrapped about the right bicep) : an entwined armlet set with lustrous starstone
(lower hem left untucked) : a fitted ivory dress shirt
(tucked into his boots) : a pair of crisp black slacks
(secured over the shirt) : a fitted vest of silk and cotton

Elene's description:

She is an intelligent Azudim. Possessed of a well-porportioned physique, she stands at an unassuming height of six feet. Gray-skinned and slender, she carries herself with a palpable air of agility and predacious gentility. A shimmering curtain of argent hair cascades from her high crown, ending just beneath the woman's shoulder blades. The silvery silken tresses neatly frame her small face; her eyes blaze a pure white against the setting of her dark-toned skin, perched above a aquiline nose and a pair of ichor-ridden lips. Precise numerological markings scar the stretch of skin along her jawline, meandering down to cover her neck. Imprinted in sharp relief upon the back of a slender hand is the brilliant image of a golden crown.

(pinned neatly upon her robe) : a striped orchid
(enfolding her slender frame) : robes of Corruption
(gleaming vicariously upon her right arm) : a twining armlet of jagged, blackened platinum
(worn tightly around her ring finger) : a corrupted band of pallid green rosebuds
(dangling perilously from both ears) : a pair of finger-bone earrings
(snugly fitted upon her index finger) : a jewel-encrusted earthen wedding band
(worn around one wrist) : a length of jade and onyx prayer beads
(hanging upon the other wrist) : an encaged miniature duskywing butterfly
(slung lightly over a shoulder) : a stygian ritualist's satchel
(semi-hidden beneath folds of cloth) : a black weaponbelt of the Spheres
(encasing her feet) : black leather hobnailed jack boots
(hanging idly from one cuffed wrist) : a set of iron shackles
(resting elegantly upon her brow) : a stately, silver filigree circlet
(cinched tightly against her throat) : a purple crystal amulet
(inked into the marred skin of a wrist) : a flickering elemental brand

------------------

Within an icy stream.
Dawn rises upon a cloudless sky, the dim, reddish rays of the sun shining down upon the land. A heavy fog settles over the area here. The surrounding banks of this crystalline stream are comprised entirely of ice, though bluish moss manages to grow in patches near the edges of the water. The water rushes by, down the slope of the glacier toward the ocean, and is only visible because of its motion. Stretching southward is a tundra shore that hugs in close to the expansive Tarean Glacier. Picking about the icy shores, a small turnstone hops through. Docent Xavin Taziyah is here, fishing in the waters. He wields an elementally infused staff of arijia in his left hand and a venantium fishing rod in his right.
You see exits leading northeast and southeast.

With acrobatic grace, you quickly hop off of a crystalline arachnid.

Pressing one hand against the neck of a crystalline arachnid, Elene dismounts, her booted feet sinking into water.

Glancing to Elene with a small smile, Docent Xavin Taziyah says, "Hello."

Clutching a small codex against her robed chest, Elene lifts it clear from the water as she stares at Xavin testing the line.

You say, "Hello there, Xavin."

With a mighty heave, Xavin lifts an arctic char out of the water.

With a fluid flick of his wrist, Xavin casts his line into the water.

Curiosity tinging her words, you say, "Is fishing lucrative?"

Eyeing his reel, Docent Xavin Taziyah says, "Aye, it can be once you've practiced enough."

With a fluid flick of his wrist, Xavin casts his line into the water.

Docent Xavin Taziyah says, "...and if things like that don't happen too often."

Docent Xavin Taziyah says to you, "Reading anything interesting lately?"

Elene's lips twist fractionally, but she makes no comment. Instead, she seeks out her half-soaked arachnid and hops up upon one of its bent leg, taken out of the water a little as she opens an Archivist's leather book entitled, "The Art of Numerology, 487 MA" and whips out a white feather quill, priming it for use.

You say, "Hm. Not particularly. I've come to realise the libraries of Sapience aren't very... updated."

You say, "And it disappoints."

Pain prickles at the periphery of your senses, the sensation blooming wetly like a pool of blood and transforming into the sickening sweet sensation of pleasure.

Xavin's eyes flick to you and he arches a brow almost imperceptibly before saying, "Well...I've noticed not many are putting ink to parchment anymore. It can be troublesome, since we must rely on word of mouth to spread new information if it's not being written."

The hem of Elene's robes drip water as she studies the page before her, quill hovering in the air as she purses her lips in thought. "Hm," she vocalises, as she taps the other end of her quill against her chin.

Musingly, you say, "And what about you? Are you putting ink to parchment?"

You lick your lips.

"I have not done so in some time but I have been considering it," Xavin admits, shrugging his shoulders as his gaze shifts back to his rod and reel. "Just a matter of deciding what to write about."

Elene's pale gaze rises from her book, focusing themselves upon Xavin's frame. The edges of her lips form themselves into the semblance of a smirk. "Amuse me. Do you happen to be reading my mind too?" comes another question from the Cabalist.

"I am," Xavin admits after a few long moments. There is a lengthy silence from the Idreth before he says, "It is...something that I cannot help sometimes."

Elene folds her arms as she stares at Xavin. "I thought as much," she says in a soft sibilant hiss. Then, her smirk solidifies as she leans over, brushing the feathered end of her quill across his eyes. "I'm pretty discerning, you see."

In a soft whisper, you say, "Do you feel what I feel, then? The way it comes clearly to me, the sensation of aching, of consequence, of pleasure?"

Keeping his features schooled, Docent Xavin Taziyah says, "Some of it, depending on how much you focus on it and what drifts to the surface."

Elene tilts her head upwards, hissing softly in exhalation. She puts away a white feather quill and carefully tosses her codex upon a crystalline arachnid as she splashes back down into the freezing water.

Her voice rising to a tremulous timbre, you say, "Does it disturb?"

"It can be unsettling at times," Xavin admits. "And can influence my own emotions depending on what is being felt."

Excitement beats hard against the chest. Why do I feel this way? Is this some twisted pleasure I get from teasing the man?

Elene's withered tongue slips from the confines of her mouth, wetting her ichorous lips.

Xavin's tail lashes briefly, causing a spray of water behind him. "I expect it is your nature, Elene," he says quietly, keeping fairly still beyond the movements required of him in his work.

Elene laughs, the emotion shaking her frame as she surges forward in one large movement, crossing the small gap to bring herself right up against Xavin's back. One slender, scarred arm rises from one side to wind itself around Xavin's neck. She tilts her head up and whispers in his ear. "I cannot read minds. Let me know your thoughts."

Xavin sucks in a deep breath even as he struggles to avoid pulling away from your touch. "You are... dangerous. You are one of Her most effective followers and always have been. I should be wary, especially considering my own recent history with Her," he says quietly.

Elene's pale gaze watches past Xavin's shoulder as he expertly handles his rod, line, and reel with the mark of a seasoned fisher. The emotion upon her face ripples away and curious detachment fills its place. "I don't understand, Xavin," she whispers, her soft breath tickling his ear, "I am merely being honest to myself."

Curiosity brims at the surface yet, controlled by a strong willpower, is kept at bay. "If I demonstrate honesty, then surely I can expect the same back."

Xavin lightly nicks his line, abandoning his catch.

A venantium fishing rod goes slack in Xavin's grasp and he draws in a deep breath. "Aye, you are. And that is what makes you dangerous, I think," he says after a moment. "There was a time when I would have relished your touch, but I would be lying if I did not say that as much as I wish to be your friend, some part of me is, perhaps, a bit frightened of you."

You lick your lips.

Elene's arm around Xavin's neck draw in tighter and as it does so, presses his back into her chest, almost uncomfortably so. The silk of her robes of Corruption rustle quietly as she shifts in position, before she loosens her grip and withdraws with a quiet splash of water. Her head is crooked to the side as she examines his frame with quiet shrewdness.

In a soft sibilant hiss, you say, "Am I fearsome enough to elicit that? You have experienced me upon the battlefields. I am harmless, as easily killed like you would swat a fly."

Elene stretches out that very same arm she used to wind about Xavin's neck. Her hand outstretched in mute offer, "I still desire friendship very much, or to retain it."

A small shiver ripples through Xavin as you withdraw and he remains still for a moment before turning. He regards you cautiously before offering the woman a small smile. "You forget that I know what you are truly capable of. It isn't violence I worry of from you, dear Elene." He pauses then before saying, "But I've some business in Enorian to see to." He pauses then, taking the offered hand for a moment after tucking his rod away. "I did not say you would not have that."

Chaotic thoughts surface rapidly in your head, a barrage of thoughts and unbidden emotions writhing about each other in a sudden hurricane. Amidst the sudden whirlwind, a steely willpower emerges like a slithering snake, bringing freezing clarity to the depths of her mind.

Softly, Docent Xavin Taziyah says, "Until later, yes?"

Quietly, you say, "Yes, until later, Xavin Taziyah."

Docent Xavin Taziyah hisses something in an arcane tongue, sparks crackling between their teeth.
As Xavin grasps a brilliant elemental focus, the motes of energy dancing about the surface of the crystal flare up, blooming into tongues of searing flame, lashes of roiling water, and bursts of blistering light. The energies begin to tear at Xavin's form, rotating about him rapidly growing to completely hide him from view. Then, with a loud *snap*, the energies are gone, leaving behind the acrid smell of ozone and a small pile of ashes where Xavin once stood.