Private Tales Steppebound

Ispir would blink, eyes widening, as that heavy, warm cloak slid over his shoulders. It was definitely a lot warmer than his own cloak, largely owing to it being too big for him, but he would blush softly at the scents upon it. It did, after all, smell like her. That particular thought would make him pause, turn away quickly, and shuffle his feet a bit. Why exactly did that make him so.... happy?

Not quite able to put it into words he instead decided to speak with action. Shuffling beneath her cloak he would remove his own aquamarine cloak and, walking back to Vyx'aria without a word, drape his own cloak over her shoulders. Bundling it tightly and warmly around her shoulders and chest. It was luxuriously soft, something she may have once had in her palace once upon a time for special occasions. It carried the scent of wild flowers and something softer, more airy. Compared to the scents of the flowers from the underrealm it would be like comparing the heady, grounding scent of dark chocolate to the lighter, more pointed scent of mint chocolate.

He would then beam at her and give a nod.

"There, we can trade for today!"

His smile would fade a bit as she mentioned not knowing how to heal, his own brow creasing in thought, before he gave a surprisingly firm nod. His voice, for the first time, actually hardening from kind and cheery to a serious tone.

"Right."

He said nothing else, at least not for a moment, before averting his eyes. As if suddenly remembering that he was about to admit something embarrassing.

"Y-Your umm... cloak... smells nice."

Was all he said before he scampered back to his belongings, face burning, and began to gather up his instruments, his bags, and hoped to use the time packing to collect himself. Assuming Ria didn't say or do anything unexpected.​

As he packed his things away Ispir absolutely heard the suppressed chuckle and, back to her so his face was hidden, he smiled. A genuine, heartfelt smile at getting to hear her laugh. Even if only for a moment. When he did turn to follow her, her words about healing magic lingering on his mind along with a certain dream he had had near death, he did exactly as she expected.

Quick, eager footfalls would carry him to her. Though when he did catch up to her was.... quite the sight. The hood of her cloak was, purposely or not, pulled up over his head so that it all but concealed his eyes and gave him a very... silly appearance. The dark folds of the cloak standing out in stark contrast to his otherwise bright clothing and he would turn his covered gaze to look up at her, his eyes hidden in the depths of her cloak, as he grinned and struggled to suppress his own giggling as he asked.

"W-What do you think.... do I look as intimidating as the infamous Ria?"

He would dramatically draw the cloak across himself at mouth level, theatrically crouching and pretending to skulk and slink along with her before... he laughed. A bright, happy laugh before he exhales some air upwards, blowing the hood up enough for his eyes to shine out from the shadows of the hood.

"As funny as that is I kinda couldn't see anything so-...."

Ispir would be cut off as his foot impacted a rock and he began to topple forward, a short, surprised gasp leaving him as he held her cloak tight.​

Her muttered comment about not scaring him off either wasn't heard by the short bard or he simply didn't feel the need to respond. But things would definitely get more awkward in the next moment regardless of whether he had heard her possible-joke about wanting to scare him off.

As he tumbled forward and Vyx'aria turned he hadn't expected anything to catch him, let alone her, and so when he clenched his eyes shut and anticipated the impact of the hard ground, only to instead press into surprising softness, if solid and sculpted, he reacted on instinct. His hands clinging on to whatever had broken his fall. Which, right now, was Ria.

So Ispir found himself, face buried in her chest, arms wrapped around her waist, hands grasping her rear in a surprisingly firm grip for how fragile he looked. A privilege many had desired and likely none, or very few, had ever had. His warm breathe would rush out in a surprised huff. For a long moment he didn't really understand WHAT he had fallen into, at least, until Ria spoke from directly above him.

Turning his eyes up to her, balanced forward on the tips of his toes, leaning on her for balance and at risk of falling over he..... blushed. A deep, rapid, crimson blush that turned his complexion from cream to lobster in the span of seconds and he sputtered at how.... how.... unphased she was! Her observation, her question, made his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and he would... shimmy against her. Trying to regain his balance and pull his feet closer to him this would lead to his cheek nuzzling against her chest, which then caused him to freeze, his hands quickly beginning to release her rear from his grip.... only for him to grip it again as letting go of her almost caused him to faceplant into the ground.

Only with incredible, titanic effort did he manage to squeak out.

"W-W..... What else would I be!?"

He swallow thickly, only to mumble shyly after a moment.

"Umm... y-you.... I-I.... my feet umm..... Ria?"

Big, embarrassed eyes would look up at her from her chest, all but shining in the deep folds of her cloak. Only for him... to hiccup. A quick, small, shy noise that caused his body to bounce and he squirmed in vain effort to get his feet under himself.​

Ispir was, in addition to be entirely emotionally overwhelmed, also incredibly confused about Vyx'aria was taking so long in helping him. Granted some small part of him was surprised to see her surprised, as calm as she always seemed to be, and her staring down at him like she did only made his blush all the more persistent. He had no idea what the twitch of her lips meant, whether she was angry or even going to laugh, but then her arm extended and she gripped her cloak. Slowly and gently setting him on his feet and Ispir would sigh in relief.

"Th-... Thank you Ri-...."

He didn't get to finish his thanks, however, as Ria's eyes lowered rather boldly between his legs. The small, growing tent there.... reacting.... to her gaze being directly on it and Ispir's voice would die mid-sentence out of embarrassed excitement. She had just... stared at him! In a way that turned the roiling mass of embarrassment and butterflies in his stomach into something.... hotter. Less like the fluttering of wings against the inside of his stomach and more like the roiling of a million sparks inside.

But then came her deadpan command and he actually shivered, turning his head to look away, and meekly took his cap off his head to cover between his legs with it. Pearly teeth biting at his lip as his legs that now felt like they were made of pure Jello-O shakily carried him after her. A far, far crying from his usual quick, scampering steps. In fact compared to just a few minutes earlier Ispir was positively silent, face still a crimson mess and trained on the ground behind Ria's feet as he grappled with an entirely new emotion that flowed like lava on his tongue. Sent his mind in a roiling storm of boiling lightning.... and had the short bard's eyes flick up to her ass every dozen seconds.

But eventually his eyes would simply settle on the ground, eyes downcast, too overwhelmed, embarrassed and, if Vyx'aria didn't ignore his additional glances on purpose she could easily tell, excited to be his usual earnest self.​

Ispir would mumble softly to himself words and pouts too soft even for her ears to pick up. If they were even coherent words at all and not just flustered nothings. Taking the time to quickly move his cap off his tented pants and instead pull her cloak about himself enough to all but hide himself from her gaze, only his glowing aquamarine eyes and blushed cheeks visible in the shadows of the cloak. Even as his eyes eagerly drank in every elegant duck, every graceful arch, she made while weaving through the underbrush.

So intense, earnest and unprepared was his gaze on the rest of her that when her eyes did finally glance back at him he would give a small, breathy and completely audible gasp before he pouted at her remark. Getting the distinct feeling she was teasing him Ispir would huff a soft noise and suddenly rush around her, moving in front of her, and would glance back at her in a fairly convincing mimicry of her own appearance. His eyes glinting from under her hood.

"Y-Yeah well.... I umm.... Haven't exactly been inspired today so-......"

Ispir would suddenly not only stop walking but blink as a ripple in the air would form around him mid-stride. The air between the two of them suddenly warping just a bit, blurring the other a bit as the magical barrier sprang to life. Ispir would look up at Ria in shock, then forward through the foliage a bit, and chirp.

"Oh! Hey I..... I think we found it!"

His voice did not reach her normally, instead of warbled and wavered as if coming to her through a water-filled metal tube and he would turn back to Ria curiously, eyes wide and curious as he stared up at her.

Vyx'aria​

Ispir's brow would furrow in confusion for a moment as she mentioned he was acting strange. Starting to answer.

"N-No that's just my voice being....."

He would then stop as she clarified, his voice trailing off for a moment only to die abruptly. He didn't catch that tiny spark of concern for him before he sighed and turned his head, muttering in a voice both supremely embarrassed and reluctant.

"I-.... I meant what I.... What I said last night. A-About you."

Was the only answer he gave at first, fiddling with the harp on his hip, face hidden from her in the folds of her own cowl before his shoulders squared just a tiny bit and he nodded, once.

"I-I haven't been honest. I'm not.... Normal."

His face would turn up toward her, his shoulder slouching, his eyes searching her own. While he made an odd confession at perhaps the worst possible time.

"I don't have.... Memories. Or at least only a few. Only the past few months. I don't know about Drow other than what I've heard in inns and taverns but you.... You're nothing like that. At least you haven't been. I want to help you and..... Spend more time with you. So I don't care if it's dangerous. I'm staying."

It was an odd thing. He didn't say these words like he was putting on a show of bravery. Neither did he seem particularly afraid. Instead there seemed to be something between honesty and some sort of request of her being made. But even Ispir wasn't truly sure what he was looking for from her. How could he?

Vyx'aria​

Whether entirely intentional or not Vyx'aria 's first choice of words, slow and precise, bit at him like a viper's strike. How DID he know he was Ispir? Who even was that? Who he was now? Who he was then? One barely more than a month's worth of memories and the dregs of some forgotten life and the other the near-completely forgotten life those scant few memories were piled on?

Thankfully for Ispir he had been gazing deeply into those beautiful ruby red eyes already when she swept her gaze over him. Even someone like him could pick up on the shift in her expression because she did not, or could not, completely hide it. He was almost surprised by what he saw, in some ways happy to see it, in others not; Empathy. And once again Ria left him holding emotions far too complex to parse with what little he had. What little he was.

But if Ria's first choice of words had been the quick, precise sting of a viper's bite, even if unintentional, her explanation for why he wanted to spend time with her left him feeling like he had had the very breathe ripped from his lungs by some ancient, cursed spectre. So much so that he had to blink, rapidly, many times before he could truly center himself to respond. His hands clenching into white-knuckled grips on her cloak as he simply.... acted.

As Ria stepped through the barrier, pushing through the rippling net that dragged her power out of her, suppressing it, she would be met by something else halting her progress in the form of Ispir moving forward and.... hugging her. Tight, sudden, action over words and consideration as the scent of mint chocolate and earthy darkness mingled pleasantly together.

Once again his head pressed to her chest, but not in some comical or provocative way, his arms encircling her in an embrace that was gentle, firm and.... protective? As if he would somehow support HER in this place. An insult to a queen from such a lowly, weak bard, no doubt. But as he turned to look up at her, eyes sincere and earnest and steadfast her hood would fall back off his head, his cap going with it and filling the otherwise dark interior of the fabric with bright, airy colors as he met her gaze and simply stated.

"You're wrong."

Inhaling a shaky breathe he would then slowly bloom into a gentle, wistful, happy smile. His arms gentle untangling from her, the small bundle of warmth that was Ispir taking only a tiny step back as his hands slid along her arms to her hands and he added.

"Watching the... the stars with you is one of the happiest memories I have ever had. Seeing you let yourself be.... you."

He would shake his head, such a gentle motion for the titanic rejection that accompanied it as he added.

"I don't.... care.... who you are outside our time together. You keep talking as if you're the worst person on Arethil. Like me even being around you will get me killed o-or worse....."

Exhaling a breathe that was obviously scared, and OBVIOUSLY believed what he said to some extent, he would square his shoulders, swallow softly, and give a nod as met her eyes once again.

"....but I choose to be here, with you. A-And I'll cherish the memory of looking at the stars with you Ria, no matter who you are. For as.... as long as I have them."

Then, with a slow gentleness, he would squeeze her hands, holding them, fingers lacing tenderly with her own, treating her as if she was something precious, not dangerous, not vile, not evil and certainly not a danger to him.

"I promise."

Before he released her hands, stepped back, and all the while smiling at her he would pull the hood of her cloak back up and nod.

"Lead the way, I'll follow, as long as you'll have me."​

Ispir would smile at her, even from behind, even unseen. A soft, heartfelt smile that was near to being lost in his own thoughts for just a moment. Only for him to rush forward, inspired by her words, and make his own promise. No. His own vow. Without an ounce of hesitation or deceit.

"And.... That's the best part Ria!"

Now standing beside her he would smile up at her, so bright and eager that not only did it reach his eyes but they actually shut with pure emotion.

"I plan to make a lot more memories with you."

He would nod firmly, hood flapping comically, only for him to pause as the darkness of the cave consumed them. Ispir, unlike Vyx'aria or any other Drow really, couldn't see in the dark. But he hesitated to summon orbs of light, instead staying close to Ria's side, as the darkness of the cave was littered with skeletal remains. A fact that though Ispir couldn't see them he could smell the acrid must of death on the cave air.

Ria would see, if she was observant, a sort of..... Webbing descend from the ceiling of the cave. Glistening, strong, but also capped on it's end by some sort of bulb. A bulb that, once reaching about chest height with Vyx'aria, would stop it's descent and begin to glow a bright, beautiful orange in the darkness of the cave.

Ispir, for his part, would wince and squint his eyes. Blinking rapidly as he gazed up at Ria's light-shrouded face and asked very softly.

"W-What is that?"

If Vyx'aria followed the "web" upwards it would actually be a somewhat familiar, but equally odd sight. A cavefisher, or what closely resembled a cavefisher, sat in a shallow alcove in the stone ceiling of the cave. This particular subrace of under realm predator, for whatever reason on the surface, seemed to have adapted to lure the more darkness sensitive denizens of the overworld to their doom.

This one has eaten well enough to be a hulking specimen, four "arms" capped with vicious claws meant to grip and restrain, to crush bone and split skin instead of cut.

If Vyx'aria were especially canny, suspicious or perceptive however, she could note that there was no feasible way for such a creature to have survived, reproduced and adapted to the surface all by itself. Additionally none of the skeletons bore the telltale signs of having been victimized by such a creature. What all this may have meant, however, was yet to be revealed.​

True to Vyx'aria 's expectations Ispir didn't understand the words that left her mouth in deluge of dark, velvety hisses. Instead he simply stared up at her with a small, worried frown on his face. He didn't need to understand the words in this moment to feel the..... hunger behind them. The darkness as old and patient as the deepest pits of the underrealm. Where the light of sun and star had never touched before. It worried him.

The cavefisher, for it's part, would level eyes usually full of nothing but pitiless, animalistic hunger at Vyx'aria. Giving her the fresh, uncanny experience of seeing intelligence, thought, consciousness, where normally there was only instinct and base desire. Whether an elevation, an ascension, or something closer to suffering dwelt there were both equally valid interpretations as the creature let the glowing orange bulb fall to the stone floor of the cavern. A wet, dull THUD echoing along the walls before the cavefisher snipped it's line free, the saliva webbing curling and falling into a heap upon the floor before it rumbled back in low hisses and sharp clicks of it's own.

"Come forward and see, Daughter of Zar'Ahal, sullied as the dark spaces of your mind are by the light you tolerate."

The cavefisher would then scuttle back into it's alcove, into darkness so deep and uncompromising as to be invisible to a Drow's eyes. The sound of it's scuttling chitin growing ever more distant and Ispir would physically JUMP in shock as the skeletal remains all about the two of them... melted. The bones liquifying, congealing and stinking horribly as Ispir coughed and held Vyx'Aria's cloak to his nose, his eyes watering as his slightly muffled voice reached her.

"Umm..... I dunno what that was but I hope it will help us out of here.... so...."

Ispir actually gagged for a moment as the smell grew to absolutely putrid levels, the skeletal remains all now putrefying into rotten heaps of something-worse-than-rotting-flesh. Causing the small bard to turn away, double over, and wave a hand by his face before he spit on the floor and coughed.

"Th-That's really really bad."

Ahead into the cave, beyond the light that the cavefisher's bulb had obscured, the rock began to curve downward, down into the familiar darkness, down into the embrace of Arethil in a way Vyx'Aria would likely find immediately more comfortable despite the horrid stench currently filling this part of the cave.​

Ispir would give a small start of surprise as that hand, firm and gentle, steadying him while also heralding words that pushed him away, earned his wide-eyed attention. Her words, soft and truthful, would earn a rapid blink from him as his jaw tensed at the stench of the cave. His aquamarine eyes were, somehow, trained perfectly onto her own ruby eyes despite his blindness. The fear in his features was evident, paramount even, and he did at least turn his head away as she said she may not be able to keep him safe. His cheeks turning a soft pink as his reply to her words was.... odd. The words tiny, quiet, but if her grip was firm with an underlying gentleness as placid as the darkness she had been born in then his words were as soft but insistent as the defiance of a twinkling star in the blackest night sky. Opposite. Equal. As he whispered.

"You.... can't keep doing that ya know?"

He would smile something almost sad, something between determined, sad and happy as he held his breathe and leaned his cheek onto her hand. His eyes closing as he murmured again.

"You can't keep being everything you're not supposed to be....."

He would then let out a soft, breathy huff of a laugh and, raising his hand, her earlier words had inspired him. So it was that, with renewed confidence, light would blossom, would PERSEVERE, in the palm of his hand. Slowly, at first, before growing into a constellation of illumination in his palm.


The air of the cavern would waver, shift, and then begin to billow around them in a swirl of ventilation. Causing his cloak and twin tails to whip and flutter around his frame as his shoulders set and the hand not conjuring his spell curled into a determined fist. Ispir, not looking up, would simply state.

"I don't abandon my friends Ria....."

The hand that had curled into a fist would gently take her own, softly peel it from his shoulder, and it would be he that took the first steps forward. His gaze fixed firmly ahead, his stride.... confident? Entirely different than his usual scampering steps before he paused, noticeably tensed, swallowed audibly, then decided to be honest with her.... and himself as he added.

"..... o-or you. Not ever."

Whatever the implications of separating her from the category of 'friend' were, whether reinforcing she was in fact his friend, or putting her in another unspoken category altogether, he left unsaid as he simply began to walk forward, leading her into the dark, the only light present as their entwined path brought them deeper and deeper. Toward whatever end.​

Ispir would smile back at her grunted question, hand gently squeezing her own, and simply respond.

"I mean, I kinda have to be to keep up with you Ria.~"

He let out a playful laugh, good spirited despite the darkness they descended into, unafraid despite the danger ahead, bright in her world of darkness, and unmistakably him. Compared to everything she seemed to expect.

As the passageway began to constrict, as the floor began to slicken, the rough natural stone of the walls and ceilings beginning to become strange, dark stone that almost seemed to drink in his light.... he paused at her question. Halting in his tracks for a moment before her mention of a blade brought back memories, some of the few he had made since..... waking up. Unseen to her his lips would purse, his shoulders would scrunch up into a prolonged shrug, and he would answer honestly but cryptically.

"I-I think.... I think I used to umm.... I can try."

Came his brief, honest double-punch of just how unprepared for this he was. He would look back, give her a tiny, wan smile and take a step. It was entirely possible for Vyx'aria to believe he slipped, with what happened next, upon the wetness on the floor. But Ispir at least knew better. Something, unseen and powerful, had pulled him DOWNWARD. Wrenching not only himself but also Ria off their feet as he simply did not let go of her hand, his face alighting in pure shock as he tumbled, as he clung, their vision becoming a swirling mixture of body parts and clothing as even the chiseled black stone vanished from beneath them and... they fell.... through open air and into darkness absolute for only a moment. Not even long enough for their tangled selves to even try and stop their descent.

As vision cleared and eyes adjusted quite a few strange things had happened during the pain of impact, the disorientation, the rushed return of reality. For one Vyx'aria no longer wore Ispir's cloak, but instead her own once again. For two her eyes would be met with familiar lighting, TOO familiar, for as Vyx'aria raised her head she would find herself not in some dark cave.... not even in some black stone laden temple.... but she was simply and plainly sprawled out in the streets of Zar'Ahal itself. Lastly, compared to the momentous, impossible rush of realization of see the palace in the distance, HER palace, the hand that had refused to let go of her own was now a cold, merciless metal chain.

A chain that ran back to... Ispir. Or almost Ispir. He was bound, as captured slave and chattel, at the front of a long line of males at the end of the chain in her grasp. But this not-quite-Ispir was unmistakably different. Gone were his bright clothes, his ensemble of instruments, his nearly ever-present smile. Instead he bore nothing but a roughspun slave's tunic and he was.... different. His eyes, once a bright aquamarine the hue of starlight, were now a mundane brown the color of chocolate. His twin tails that had once ended in a similar hue were now also plain, a deep raven black like the rest of his hair. Lastly were the cuts, the bruises, the gauntness and malnutrition that made him look.... wrong compared to what she knew.

The line of slaves behind her were all so broken, so completely 'tamed' they did not even flinch or look for a possible escape, even as she lay before them. Docile. Placid.

Not at all stubborn.​

Not-Ispir would stumble at the sharp tug, soundless even from an expression of pain as the manacles dug into him, and as she gripped his jaw his eyes remained sullen on the streets of Zar'Ahal. Not looking at her, not meeting her gaze for even a moment, the languid purr of her voice earning a tremble of fear from him. But nothing more. He nodded, weakly, and only once. Indication that orders had been given, heard, and accepted.

As this shadow of Ispir was pushed away, back to his feet, as the world seemed to warp and provide whatever Vyx'aria desired in the moment, from her crown return to an impossibly placed recliner, the figment abided. Sunken, chocolate eyes would rise to the starless ceiling of the cavern that nestled Zar'Ahal to itself and began to sing.

"All riven, kith and kin
All given for this, a never-ending riddle
My flesh... worn, heart betorn
Mind, by mem'ry, begyved"

The voice was, at least, mostly the same. Hoarse, quavering and parched but nonetheless sincere but without any magic to make it sound like anything but what it was. Eyes remaining dutifully on the ceiling the stanzas would continue obediently.

"As I wander, cold and immane
whither now my mother, my flame.
And along the coils of light....
the life I desire."

By now passing Drow had begun to pause to listen to this song, a song that was quickly becoming impossible for the figment to finish, instead numberless sets of ruby eyes were trained upon Vyx'aria and her impromptu performance. No instrument, no smile, no quip or encouragement to accompany the obedience and broken acquiescence. But by now the figment of Ispir's eyes would lower back to Vyx'aria upon her recliner, wordless and quiet as they whispered.

"I do not know the rest, Mistress."

Now the voice sounded nothing like Ispir, not even a shadow of his voice, indeed the voice bore almost no identity at all.​