Private Tales Ghosts of the Past

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Her gaze lifted, looking through the many holes in the ceiling and roof. She stared, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness beyond any torchlight, and there she spied Ivan Skender.

A smile appeared on her face, a natural reaction she had not time to think over and decipher. "How did you..." she trailed, eyes now looking for ways up. There were many jutting stones in the walls, and Zephyrine began to climb. Slowly, but surely, she worked her way to the midnight heaven where Ivan sat. Some of the climb needed the aide of her magic, to create a new foothold or ledge to grab onto.

By the time she pushed herself over the lip of the hole she spied him through, Zephyrine fell onto her back and let her legs dangle. She was grinning, elated from the climb.

"You're not planning to sleep up here, are you?" In the harsh reminder of chilling winds, Zephyrine lifted a lazy hand and put out a shield made of pure magic around them. She knew the winds would not cease over night, could tell by the clouds above that she was staring up into. It was dark, overcast that the moons gave soft impressions that they indeed hung up in the night's sky.

"Oh..." A thought passed. She sat up now, peering at him. His face had always been hard to read most times, and in this moment, she could see the slight indentation at his brow where it wanted to deepen it's furrow. "I'm not disturbing you am I?"

They were both the youngest members of all the men gathered below. She was never the sociable one, preferring quiet company and challenging training, of which Ivan and Zeph had done for hours when they were all talked out or waiting for his medicines to start working so that he may sleep. Maybe in that quiet, when he slept and she slowly worked each wound and scab, each broken bone and dislocation, Zephyrine knew she finally met someone that understood what is what like to have the life she had.

An unspoken understanding, and one that made her trust him far easier.

"I can go if you wanted to be alone for a bit."
 
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His brow furrowed, as he saw her barge into his little eagle’s nest - those going concerns of his pushed to the back corners of his mind. His expression though, took on a thoroughly amused expression.

- "And if I do," - He drawled. - "what will you do?" - He cocked his head, so that he could gaze downwards onto the empty void beneath, as if to hammer in his point.

- "It's a long way to the bottom." -

He shook his head, and motioned her to join, placing the moonshine bottle between them invitingly.​
 
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Zephyrine pulled herself up some more, moving to go sit beside Ivan and grimace at the moonshine. "You gave me a taste of this at my birthday party." She remembered, and recalled how it burned, scratched, and stung all the way down. "I'd say drink enough of this and you won't feel the bottom of the drop."

Despite the bad experience, she lifted the moonshine to her lips and took a sip with a grimace. She held on, swallowing her mouthful of pure alcoholic revenge with a grimace. "Kress, that never got better with time."

She placed it securely back between them on their perch.

"This feels... it's the first bit of freedom I have had since my detour after graduation. I had been so set on Elbion, met a strange lady and fought some... eldritch dragon, and suddenly I felt needed back in Vel Anir. Back then, I had autonomy... now?" Zephyrine shook her head, staring at the dark that fell short of the ruins they were occupying. "I just feel as lost as I did after graduation."

That none of her decisions had turned out the way she thought it would. Had put too much trust in 'things will get better'.

"But this... joining you and seeing what you plan to do... I'm actually jealous of you." She laughed. "That you have a goal." A purpose.
 
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Right.

The fight with a primordial dragon of death had been something that had happened. Ivan looked her up-and-down, thoroughly amused at this girl having fought off a colossal beast of oblivion only to embark on yet another perilous mission of uncertain success so soon afterwards - all the while having the time to reminisce about the mundanity of adult life in between.

Impressive, really.

- “Not to worry,” - He said slyly. - “it’s only the rest of your life.” - Matrimony to the Anirian military did tend to be a ‘till death do you part’ kind of commitment. The guard was likewise, not the best at helping its members achieve their ambitions or potentials.

As he ran the thought though, he couldn’t help but wonder if he did have it any better, after all.

- “Though,” - He said, taking a swig from the Moonshine bottle. - “the one thing you’ll always get from the Guard is reliability.” -

He paused for a moment, so as to let the words sink in - to let them sink into both of their consciousnesses.

- “Comrades to fall back upon, superiors to guide you.” - He motioned downwards, in a grand sweeping gesture. - “Both things I no longer have.” -

He reclined against the frigid stone, taking the bottle up for another draught.

- “My name might have been enough to get their attention,” - He restarted, his tone sombre, almost sorrowful. - “but these men didn’t follow me for my bloodline, nor some sense of latent loyalty - they are here because they believe me to be their best ticket for a better life.” -

He shrugged slowly.

- “But how long do you think they’ll stick by me if I make a bad decision?” - Aye, that was it, wasn’t it? He was an unproven leader, guiding a company of inexperienced freebooters into a warzone. One bad call, a step taken out of depth, and his little adventuring party would collapse like a house of cards. These men weren’t Dreadlords, they weren’t even initiates - they were the downtrodden of Anirian society, there to chase what they thought to be their best bet for a brighter future. One false step and he knew they would desert him without a second thought.

- “If something; anything goes wrong out there,” - He said, pointing with his bottle towards the black abyss. - “no one’s coming to save us.” -

He leaned his head backwards, letting his neck rest on the stone that stood against his back.

Any loss, he knew well enough, any death, or wound…

- “It’ll all be on me.” -
 
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Zephyrine's tawny gaze was fixed on him. He spoke words that resonated within her, and the way he spoke so openly and candidly... she knew it wasn't just the moonshine that helped loosen his lips. She could not stop watching him, that they sat here in this scene of vulnerability with one another.

Until he directed her gaze to the outward world, darkened by the cloud cover and terrible weather conditions. Somewhere in that sky, the moons hid.

"You have me." She blindly reached for the bottle, gently taking it from him to drink and wince at the horrible sensation it gave running down her throat. "Kress, that's never going to get easier." Zeph chuckled, but turned back to look at him. She didn't smile. She didn't fill him with false hopes either. Zephyrine stared at him like a comrade.

"If we need to rebuild, we will rebuild. If we have nothing to start with, then I will find a way. I didn't come here to you just because you asked... not even because... I..." She watched him again, and her faced turned hard to read. How to translate her feelings of him? The ones that frightened her to even speak and have it heard. To admit there was space somewhere for him in her mind she often liked to visit.

Zephyrine looked back to the abyss, smiled at it even. "Not because I find you attractive, although that is just a bonus of your charm and wit." She placed the bottle back between them before watching the abyss once again. "I came here... because I wanted to see something being built. I want to be part of the hard labour, and the years of creating something that never existed. The war... it's not going to end anytime soon. It calls me back... and I... I don't enjoy watching how easy it is to tear homes and cities down. It's like I am fighting my own nature out there..."

A half glance Ivan's way. Her hand moved to her pouch of scrap materials, and from it, felt the cold greeting of fine steel. "You're never going to be entirely alone. I will be at your side to make sure there is always scrap to build from." The piece lay flat in her palm, and her eyes dropped down to it. It changed it's shape, curling and coiling until it blended into the figure of a ship. "I don't know if it bears any resemblance to your one... but... a token of my promise to you, Ivan Skender."

No matter how hard they worked her as a child to become a weapon, Zephyrine existed in a world that inspired craftsmanship and gestures.
 
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He took the small metal ship in his hand. It didn’t particularly look like the Wraith, although that was, in all honesty, rather lost on him.

Instead he just held the small memento on his palm, intently studying its detail before shifting his gaze to that of the girl.

- “Thanks.” - He didn’t smile though his expression did betray a certain… hint of honesty; a genuine, heartfelt sentiment of gratitude as he looked up at her - not a formality, but a real feeling.

He held her gaze for a moment longer, studying her.

- “You are unlike any other initiate I’ve ever met.” - He said plainly. - - “Myself above all.” -

He picked a rock that lay near them. It had a roughly rectangular shape, its edges eroded by decades - centuries even - of exposure to the elements; beyond its decayed vertices though, it looked as though it had fallen from the ruined stone structures around them.

He held it, and as he did, his magic started to work. A strange mist of blackness that seemed even darker than the abyss below. The arcane power corroded the stone even more, collapsing its edges into a ruined shape.

- “I’m still a Dreadlord though,” - He said, his gaze shifting towards the remnants of the stone on his palm. - “and though they have made their livelihoods in the Anirian fishing fleets so far,” - He continued, motioning with his chin sideways towards where his men had set-up camp. - “neither me, nor them, intend for their status to remain like this.” -

He shrugged.

- “I’m a warrior, and them ordinary peasants. Hardly the stable foundations of a burgeoning Kingdom.”-

The implication here was clear: while she could both kill and create, he was a weapon of destruction, through-and-through. Oh, he had plans to restore his birthright, it was true - though it needed to be said that his idea of a ‘restoration’ involved significantly more bloodshed than what Zephyrine was expecting.

- “Even if we succeed here, there will be more war to come.” - He held her gaze once more. - “As we set off, our martial potential is really the only advantage we can hone.” -

He reclined against the stone again.

- “Maybe one day we can focus on rebuilding what once was, but right now? Piracy and raiding are the most promising routes for us to get the resources we need to make that happen.” -

The ends justified the means… how very Anirian.

- “Are you sure this is something you want to embark on?”
 
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