Private Tales Graceless and Divine

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria's free hand gripped the edge of the desk she sat upon, keeping herself seated upright as he dragged her closer to him. It was one thing for her to impose herself to be in close proximity with anyone, using it to intimidate them, but Kilien had brought her to him. She wondered if he had heard her sharp intake of breath, still unsure if it was surprise or... something else entirely.

This was unfamiliar.

But he administered the paste to her wound, where a brief moment of her attention had been paid. Blood had pooled at her palm, but his handkerchief had soaked most of it and left her olive complexion stained with red. But no more blood had seeped from the wound, covered by the yarrow poultice.

"A fine job." She complimented, shaking her head slightly as she lifted it to peer at him. Her black hair moved away from falling into her face, giving her better view to regard him with a rare, small smile. "But I am still curious to see how a poultice may work on the likes of you."

He would need a deeper wound, and the thought of it made Vittoria ecstatic to test it. To see another bleed spoke to an instinct trained into her while at the Academy, to hone in on the wound and exploit it. A sign of weakness, a beacon for her to show who between them was much stronger. It was encouragement to her kill drive.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

That heat still hadn't subsided. In fact, was his throat getting itchy?

Kilien cleared it once, brows furrowed at the sensation, and passed it off as just maybe some remnants from the flowers he'd not managed to clear out.

"Uhh," it wasn't that he feared her little knife or shedding some blood for her grades. Gods knew Kilien cared rather little about his own grades and was fairly certain the Proctors were probably going to start trying to off him on missions.

It was more that he believed it to be a waste of yarrow AND time, but Vitt did seem rather keen on it...

Rolling his jaw in consideration, he leaned back and shrugged off his jacket to deposit it on the chair nearby. In a plain dark green long sleeved shirt, he pushed the wrist hems up his arms to expose the bronzed skin beneath mottled by countless scars and decorated by a sleeve of ink on his right arm. The exposed area of his neck showed further deeper scarring, specifically remnants left behind from what presumably was an anti-magic collar.

He spread his arms and hands in an open invitation, "Add your mark to the canvas."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria did not waste time, reaching to the potted yarrow nearby. It meant getting closer to him, but that thought was no longer held important in her mind no more than she was eager to finally test him. Just as he had done, she bit into the small bunch of flowers, but not before baring her teeth before they bit off the bunch and began to chew. Vittoria always was an oddity when it came to eating food, when it came to true smiling that showed her teeth. A story she had read as a child, that told of many creatures that displayed their teeth as a threat resonated with her.

Showing her teeth communicated that Vittoria chose to be cruel.

The paste was near ready in her mouth, but no taste of pepper came to her tongue. What she could taste was her own bloodlust.

With experienced hands, her knife began to twirl in her grip as her ocean hues began to roam over the canvas he so readily offered her. Where she would choose to mark him had to be decisive and fulfilling to her theory. His arms would be the most obvious choice, but one she would pass over from. She could move for the more intimate neck, a favourite of her own as it made many nervous and plead, but she knew Kilien would not be one to plead to her blade at his jugular.

No. It needed to hurt. Whatever hurt he could feel, she wanted him to remember.

Without hesitation, she scooted her desk back to send it toppling behind her. Boots kissing the cold floor of the wooden boards marked the same time her knife came to sink into the side of his thigh. Vittoria watched his face, smiling with her teeth that had traces of yarrow stuck to them. She withdrew the blade, moving to tear the fabric there of his clothing in order to see the wound, in which she admired for a fraction of a second before applying the fresh poultice she made.

Seconds passed, and the bleeding stopped. Vittoria used her blade to scrape away the yarrow paste and inspect his wound. "How did I do?" She asked, to pull herself back from testing Basmarc again.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Well the thigh was unexpected.

Everything else passed by without remark and rather little fanfare from him. The teeth, the desk, the twirling of the knife - Vittoria very clearly had gotten used to being scary to others and for good cause. His gaze remain intently upon her because he knew she was powerful and dangerous. He knew this but for some reason nothing he'd encountered here at the Academy had given him reason to be fearful.

No matter what they did here, it just seemed to fall a bit ... short, and he couldn't really put his finger on why that was.

So when Vittoria stuck him in the leg with her blade, the Initiate jumped out of surprise more than anything. He'd expected the gut - one of the more popular areas to sink a blade. But the leg?

Kilien's hazel eyes vanished behind their lids as he jaw went taught at the pain. It was tolerable in the way that a papercut was. More an annoyance than anything else. What was most interesting is that she seemed to be enjoying this. Was he? Jury wasn't in yet.

When his eyes opened again, they focused in on her face and watched her with bated interest. It took only moments for the wound to close - as he expected. He was well-rested, well-fed, and hadn't seen confrontation in a few days. Such a clean wound was always going to heal on its own.

"That's not-" he coughed, frowned, cleared his throat again of the rising burn and itch, before he hoarsed out: "from the yarrow."

His leg began to burn at the healed scar. Kilien itched absently at it.

"It's not going to help me," he began, powering through the burn in his throat, "I already heal too fast for it to work."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria dropped her gaze to his wound. How quickly it sealed and healed as if her blade had not sliced into him seconds before. If the blood had not coated her fingertips or to his thigh, she would have thought she imagined stabbing him. She hummed, curious of the outcome that came with his annoying ability.

"How awful." It certainly had taken out the fun in her experiment, but the wanting for more never truly left her.

Vittoria now looked down at him from where she stood before him, tilting her head at him. Odd, that he could inherit such abilities form his grandfather, but still be a disappointment to her curiosity.
She studied him several moments, staring at him with a predator's determination.

Until her eyes fell to his mouth, her brows wrinkling as they knit together.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

"I'll tell you what's awful," he scowled, but not at Vitt, "my throat is burning like hell. Isn't yours?"

Were they really supposed to have chewed up the plant or was it better to mash it with a mortar and pestle? That would have made more sense. Hell, he could have used the butt of her dagger on the desk to do it.

"Haaaaaaaaa-" the sound edged rather closely to a growl as he slid from the desk and from Vittoria's immediate personal bubble to go hack, cough, and spit at the end of the row. He began itching at the healed cut on his leg which had very quickly begun to burn.

The coughing steadily grew into more a more serious form of wheezing.

"I think my-" Kilien struggled with the words through it, "my throat-" and then he collapsed to the ground, red faced, and began to seize.

These were not symptoms of yarrow poisoning.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

She had seen the first signs of a reaction at his lips, turning his lips slowly to blue.

Vittoria did not balk as he pushed past her to rid himself of discomfort, but her eyes remained fixed on him as he suffered through getting a breath in between words. Her satchel, on the floor nearby to her boots, contained several vials of antidote she had purchased from an apothecary in Vel Zrada. It itself would be deadly if administered in higher doses, but she knew enough would be needed to counteract whatev---

No. That would not work.

None of his actions were in line with a yarrow's poison.

Vittoria was on her knees beside his seizing body in an instant, feeling the pain take over her for a moment, but she was an Initiate that was taught to think through whatever pain she was caused. Reaction. It was clear as her eyes took in a quick assessment of his being, and Vittoria gritted her teeth.

"We should have gone with the monkshood."

Runes and college magic, they could help her now in this moment, but Vittoria had been shaped and sculpted, beaten and conditioned to be a weapon that only sought to take apart an enemy. It was a waste to make her learn how to heal, to hone her talents to something the Proctors had not wished her to be. A Saviour.

She would let someone die before she went to save their life.

Despite her dislike for what she assumed Basmarc was, he did prove a purpose to remain alive. He was not weak like some of their classmates, and he did not cower from her. Perhaps he would be a worthy opponent, and Vittoria always merited the wilful higher than those that begged to go home.

Raw magic glowed at her hands that now held his head to tilt to his left, concentrating on mending any illness in him while keeping his body from thrashing too much. It was perhaps an act that made her feel useless, and Vittoria never wished to feel such a way ever again. "Do not die on me, Basmarc." Do not leave me to graduate without worthy peers.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Whatever it was she did, it was helping ... somewhat. Kilien's thrashing and seizing subsided but he was still turning blue in the face and gasping for air.

His eyes, now flashing a virulent orange, bugged open as he came-to and immediately began heaving with all his might for a lungful of air.

"JA-" he flailed slightly in her hands, motioning wildly toward the chair where he'd left his jacket, "MY JACK-"

HUUUUUUUUUUUH

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria's brows knitted together, unsure of what he was saying but his hands motioned to one direction. Her ocean hued eyes fell on the jacket, and Vitt's jaw clenched as she prepared herself to release her magicked hold on Kilien.

But she was quick. On her feet within a second, crossing the short distance to his jacket and pulling it free. She tossed it at him, letting it land on his frame before Vittoria was back at his side, kneeling beside him.

"What is this?" She asked of him. There was no sympathy to her expression or words, but the fact Vittoria was at his side spoke volumes. Or perhaps her fascination with death kept her there, waiting to see if her efforts to help him would turn for the worse.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

His struggle was not graceful or pretty in any way. Wheezing, gagging, sputtering - the jacket landed in a bundle on his chest and his hands fumbled to turn it over and over, grasping wildly for something within.

At last his fingers found purchase and withdrew from a hidden pocket a very simple and plain-looking wand. With difficulty he turned the grip of it at himself and pointed the tip at his throat. With a deep and rasp wheeze of breath, it glowed a faint blue before seeping into his skin.

One second went by. Two seconds. Three.

The gasping began to abate as his throat opened up. Kilien took a great, gulping breath of air and slowly sank back onto the floor. Color returned to his face and lips and he lay there like a tired fish on the bottom of a boat.

"Nn-" he gurgled, only just registering her confusion and curiosity, "al-allergic. It's happened before... with some other plants."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Allergies.

Such a humanising ordeal for one to experience, and in his case, at the likes of a yarrow flower.

Then her eyes fell to the wand still grasped in his hand, resting atop him. Her head canted like a curious cat, "Hm, you are a curiosity."

So many of her classmates were easy pickings for her to pinpoint their weaknesses, but Kilien himself was a survivor. Of course, there was not an opportunity for her to intimidate him. He was far too charismatic and likeable for her to do much damage. The better option was to motivate him to be better, to be worthy of her appraisal.

"How comedic that you are the one to pick yarrow. Feeling foolish that we did not simply stick to the wolfsbane?"

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

"I'm just..." he was still catching his breath, "a funny guy, you know?"

He'd never had good luck so he was fairly often expecting life to go ass over tea-kettle. Being adaptable and not letting it get to him helped.

"This is how things usually go for me. After a while you figure out how to make bad luck part of the dance."

Like being on the floor. It was cool and felt nice. View from here wasn't too bad either.

"I think we're gonna have to find something else to test the poison theory on, Cap'n."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria met his gaze, studying him a moment more before humming and getting to her feet. "I suppose you are right. Perhaps I should offer myself as the rabbit."

Now that it was apparent that he had such a reaction to yarrow, they could go about this example carefully. He should wear gloves, use mortar and pestle and other instruments to administer the healing and the poisoning. There would be no true risk to her life when they were to present this, for Vittoria knew the poisons expert Proctor, Salak, would be in attendance.

Vittoria rounded back to peer at him, still laying on the floor. "Unless you agree that we should return to studying the monkshood?"

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Perhaps I should offer myself as the rabbit.

That earned her a look. Well - they didn't have many other choices unless they wanted to experiment on other Initiates or animals. Neither of which were options he liked. There were others here that wouldn't hesitate on such things, but that wasn't his style.

With a grunt of effort he pushed himself up to his elbows and gestured dismissively with his free hand, "Nah. No sense in backing out now. Can't be letting Proctor Schantz' plants go to waste."

Plus, Vitt didn't like wasting time - right?

His brow furrowed as he eyed the rip in his pants left behind by her little test, "Can't believe you stabbed me in the thigh..." He lifted his hand toward her in a gesture that asked her to help him to his feet.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

"Did you think I would be predictable?" Her hand gripped his own and pulled him up, planting her feet solidly to bear his weight. Once he was standing, he would see that Vittoria was pleased he could not believe where she chose to strike her blade. "I did think about your neck, but that would have been far too much blood for an experiment."

It was similar to the times she was trained in interrogation, putting a being through mild torture to get them uncomfortable enough they began spilling intel. To get results was to not be deemed predictable enough that one would brace themselves.

Peering up at him, she watched as colour slowly returned to his face. "Perhaps you should eat something."

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

"You know what they say about assuming..." on his feet once again, standing rather much closer to her than she'd previously permitted, he batted his eyebrows at her as he gave his wand a twirl and promptly stuck it in the back pocket of his trousers.

Still had her hand in his - an opportunity he could have taken to steal a bit of her mana and chose not to because while he could be a lowdown mongrel, he wasn't a complete asshole. His eyes glanced down at her hand where he lightly ran his thumb over her knuckles before giving it a squeeze in silent thanks for her help. She had surprisingly soft hands for someone who so willingly would stab another person in the thigh.

His weary face did brighten at the mention of eating, and he offered her a winsome smirk, "Only if it's Perfection Pancakes. Nothing else is worth the break."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

The sensation of his thumb grazing over her knuckles sent her eyes to peer down at their joined hands. Unaware they were still being held, she slowly released and retrieved her hand to return to hanging at her side. She did not step back to give them space, preferring to take this chance in seeing him up close. "I may be persuaded in whipping something up."

One last look and Vittoria was stepping away from him now, scooping up her satchel and producing a small bag from inside. It was where she plucked the flowers from the pots, being so careful as to not leave traces on her skin, but it was clear Kilien's reactions came from prolonged exposure to the plant.

She waited for him to gather his things and follow her closer to the kitchens, knowing that this late in the afternoon it would be busy with preparations for dinner, but Vittoria only stopped by long enough to retrieve a basket of ingredients and tools they would need. With the crook of her finger, she gestured for her project partner to follow, and after near twenty minutes of walking towards the boundary of e forest behind the Academy, they came about the old hunter's cabin.

"Mind getting the door?" she asked him, arms full of the basket.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

In less than half a day he'd been in more parts of the Academy than he had in a week. She'd lead him from the quiet halls of the closed and abandoned classrooms all the way across and down into the kitchens - a place he'd only ventured at night to abscond with treats when no one was around to see. He knew where they kept the prime slabs of meat that they retained for special occasions and it was tempting to pull her there in order to nip off with a cut of lamb.

Now he found himself standing before an old cabin he'd seen before. The scents of other Initiates lingered, though they weren't strong enough to consider a threat to Vittoria's apparent need for privacy.

At her request he strode forward, giving the place a once over before yanking it open. "Interesting place for making pancakes. You uh - come out here often?"

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

"I do not like having an audience." She started, pushing past him carefully and wandering into the space she knew well. "And other people can be distracting. If this project could be done alone, I would still be here, alone." Of course, many others came to this cabin for other uses, but Vittoria needed to be away from students. She was prone to irritability in seeing other Initiates succumb to their weakness, to doubt themselves so openly. Before the Revolution, there had been a simple way in dealing with the likes of those, but now? Now she wore shackles that contained her most lethal magic.

"Here, I can control." Placing the basket on a table that was not in the same place she saw it last, she began to tend to the stove that was miraculously still in operation. "If I am to play by the rules set by the Proctors, then I must abide."

From the basket, she began to unload the surprising number of things she had fitted inside.

"Now," Her voice turned to warning, her eyes lifting to peer at him in a sidelong glance. "I do not do this just for anyone. Friend only." Friend, singular. King had always been her equal since day one, and the brother she never knew she needed.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Alone.

Mostly he was ambivalent to being alone, but given the option on any normal day he'd prefer for company. Hell, even unpleasant company was better than the solitary confinement he was relegated to every full moon. To the cell he'd been locked in for years when his only company was ... well.

The fog was heavy but he knew he'd rather not think on it too much.

Kilien moved inside after carefully pulling the door closed and pulled out a seat from the table where she'd laid out her ingredients and wares. A hand lifted to push the windlocks from his face to better allow him watch her progress in the throes of domestic expertise. He lifted a brow at her words.

"I will take these secret pancakes to my grave," and then lifted a hand, fingers curled all save one, "pinky promise."

Not even her only friend would know.

"So King," he continued, "how'd you two become friends anyway?"

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

In a bowl, she began measuring dry ingredients first before adding in the wet ingredients and began to stir at a comfortable pace. The key was not to go too far and causing the batter to be overbeaten, which would end in flat pancakes. "King came to the Academy a little after I did but I knew he was different. Not only the brother of a Proctor, his magic was powerful. He was better than me, but now we are both equal." It had been her friend that helped Vittoria learn how to improve, and such a lesson she paid to him in return. They always had each other's backs, and their similar view in pursuing for a glory filled future only strengthened their friendship.

"My mother was a Pirian, actually. The D'Amours are devoted to the House, and in some way, I think our course in life would bring us together one way or another."

The first pancake was ready to be cooked.

Her back turned to him, Vittoria loomed over the hot pan and waited patiently for the telltale signs of bubbles rising to the surface. The sweet scent filled the cabin, the glow of the light outside lighting her up from the right. "I was supposed to have a twin, you see. The doctors used to tell me that it was my twin that made my mother died during childbirth, but my father soon began to tell me the truth."

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Kilien watched and listened quietly and patiently.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Flipping the pancake, a small flicker of satisfaction came to life on her expression, unseen by her current company, as the first pancake was nothing short of success. The perfect golden brown, the perfect shape, and still held a level of fluffiness to it.

When it was ready, she served it readily onto a plate and placed it back on the table.

"You see, it was not my twin that killed our mother. No, not even my mother or father knew she was carrying twins. It runs in the family." Blueberries, and wildflower honey, she prepared the perfect pancake to how she liked to have it.

Sliding the plate forward, she extended a knife and fork to him with a small smile. "I ate my twin in the womb. It is not truly known, but it is how I believe I was graced with two magical abilities." And both of which can help set her apart and become an Archon one day.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Something about being served by a beautiful, powerful woman that just couldn't compare. Hazel eyes watched her keenly as she worked, silently roving over her figure to pick up every little nuance of movement. If he weren't so focused on hearing her words he could have heard her heartbeat and that little flicker of excitement at the perfect first pancake.

When she turned back to him she'd find him intent on her story though the pancake was far from forgotten. He was damn near always hungry, but he could practice restraint and patience in the face of her dark little secret. When the plate slid toward him he looked down at it for just a moment, considering the effort and care taken to serve him her favorite and then looked back up at her. A small but appreciative smile bloomed in return within his beard as he leaned to take fork and knife without breaking eye contact.

"Thank you." Then a deep breath to take in the aroma of it all. Everything about the setting was novel to the point of being almost weird, but he'd decided a long time ago not to let the weirdness of the world bother him too much.

"Some people remember being in the womb," he began, not finding the topic of conversation at all off-putting from a delicious meal, "the warmth of it. How it feels to float. The silkiness of the lining. The red glow all around them," Kilien deftly began to cut himself a piece of pancake, taking care to get both blueberry and honey all in one bite and pausing just before popping it into his mouth, "do you remember what your twin tasted like?"

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria turned away before she could watch him take that first tentative bite. There were more pancakes to be made, her recipe most likely yielding about ten. The second pancake was perfectly poured, and Vittoria now half turned to peer at him. Her eyes wandered upwards in thought, a hum low and stalling for time. "No, I do not think I can recall."

"But I know what our magic tastes like."

She was the stronger twin, who knew even in the womb that weakness could not cloud this world. Larrainth continued to believe such growing up with her father, who may have given her some happy memories, was relentless in ensuring his only child would rise up and prove herself. Weakness was never an option for her. She looked down on them, and favoured those that showed cunning and strength. Showed that they could survive against all odds.

Turning back to the second pancake, she flipped it just as it was ready for the next step.

"My favourite is when I use my decimation magic. At first I hated the taste, like apples and peaches I do not think kindly of their tastes... but I learned to bear it. Of course, magic has different tastes, do you not agree, Basmarc?"