Private Tales Graceless and Divine

[Kilien Basmarc]

Watching her shift from tea to the yarrow plant and then produce that dagger again, Kilien felt his brow setting a little further with each passing moment.

"You uh... wanna clue me in here, partner?" but before she would even utter a response, the old cut was open and bleeding again. The smell of her blood hit his nose with the same acridity as fresh-cut citrus.

She certainly held no compunctions when it came to cutting a bitch. Even herself. Kil glanced from the bleeding hand to the offered other, then to the blood-tipped dagger now sitting, innocently, before him on the table. His brow furrowed ever deeper and his lips drew thin, all remnants of a smile gone from his face as he reached first for her hand.

He cupped hers with his own, palm up, fingertips gently wrapped around her wrist to hold it in place. With his right he took up the dagger and frowned. Kilien Basmarc was not like his ancestor. He took no pleasure in hurting others nor had he any desire to do so. Despite his advantages in the physical department, when it came to sparring sessions he nearly always took the defensive. Took the punches. Took the stabs, the slashes, the blunt force trauma. Whatever the other Initiates needed to look good for the Proctors.

Plenty of them derived great satisfaction out of beating the Rovani bloody. Calling him dog. Howling at him. He shrugged it all off and took it all in stride because at the end of the day some part of him felt he deserved every bit of it.

The dagger felt heavy in his hand even though it was not and when he placed it against the flesh of her palm he had to take a short moment. A short jerk and she had her second cut - though perhaps a bit longer than needed.

"Sorry," the word left his lips immediately, though he hadn't let go of her hand. His fingers squeeze her wrist gently. "It's just not my thing, you know?"

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

She knew he would have difficulty in doing as she asked the moment he held her wrist. It was gentle, not at all taking the opportunity to glide his thumb over her hand as he had done once before. It was the way he took the blade, as if wielding a knife was not something he was accustomed to, nor was he deliberate in having the point of it press even the gentlest of forces against her palm.

Crimson seeped into her palm, and Vittoria bit down on her lip as she watched him go beyond what she expected.

Vittoria looked at her hand, fingers just still clinging to drying ink from her inkpot, and then brought herself to look up at him. She could belittle him for making such a mistake, like she would have done any of their classmates, but there was a sincerity in his expression, in his voice.

She valued honesty highly.

"Have you ever inflected a wound on someone else, Kilien?" To say his first name felt cruel, a manipulation, and because it was true. Vittoria even gave him a soft smile, one that could be called coy. "Because you are right, it clearly is not 'your thing'... you thought about it too hard... perhaps not the actual task, but you were preoccupied."

"If you want, I can teach you how to become comfortable with a blade." Her voice dropped in volume, as if this were a secret she would take to her grave. "But I need you willing." Open to learning from her. Of course, not something she would want to advertise, but this old building could become a spot she would teach him how to be precise with a blade.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Heavy brows pinched at the question, the insinuation. Wasn't the first time another Initiate had doubted his veracity with a weapon and most certainly wouldn't be the last. For several moments he did not meet her gaze and instead focused on the blood welling from the cut of her hand. Discomforted in the direction of the conversation for reasons she'd never guess, Kilien blinked, cleared his throat, sighed, and wiped her knife clean on his pants.

"Yeah," he replied at length as he placed the blade back on the table, "sure. Sounds good." The furrow of his brow lightened, hazels returning to her own cold gaze and fixing her with a pleasant smile.

Spending more time one-on-one with Vittoria was literally the least of his concerns and only one of the few things he presently had to look forward to.

"Oh-" he rummaged around in his jacket again for the same kerchief he'd used on her other hand to sop up the blood earlier, "here."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria cleared her throat to make him pause. "No, no. Let it bleed. I want to see how quickly it works." Without removing her hand from his hold, she scooped the second paste she made and applied it. Watching it for a moment, she did notice the flow of blood began to slow, quicker than the first application.

"Fascinating, is it not?" She asked him, placing her other hand beside the one he still held. "That simple flowers and leaves can heal in such a way."

And she would leave the paste for minutes more.

"If we had gone with the wolfsbane, I doubt we would be having as much fun as this." She mused, quirking a brow at him.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Was it fascinating? Kilien wasn't entirely so sure. There was magic that could do the same only faster and more effectively. He supposed in a pinch, or if caught in the wilderness, having this knowledge would be useful in the right scenario.

Just... not for him.

What he found more fascinating was the fact that she hadn't yanked her hand away from his, so he remained carefully holding it in place simply to feel like he was being useful. But also, physical contact was nice, especially when it wasn't part of the abuse of his Academy lessons.

He did lift a skeptical brow at her, "Are you... actually having fun?" Kilien wouldn't profess to be experiencing the same, but he was enjoying his time with her.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

She fixed him with a light scrutiny, as if she could not believe he was not sharing in on this fun.

"Yes." Came her blunt answer. Now she had began to lightly withdraw herself from his gentle hold. "Is that such a fantastical thing for me to claim so?"

Vittoria scraped her hands against the wooden edge of the table, cleaning from her palms the paste made from yarrow. She thought it best not to use his handkerchief, lest he suffered again. Truly, Vittoria would not like to see him struggle again, but if it were to happen... she would watch him closely.

Her eyes lifted, looking to him again. Something about him caught her stare, and the Initiate began to slow her movements as her entire attention was on him. "I find it curious that such a plant could be your undoing, Kilien. Perhaps you have allergies to other things?" It brought her back to being a young child, having witnessed a boy that used to run around the shipyard. He had an allergy to bee stings, and she witnessed as no one could revive the poor boy, and by the time a medic or healer came to his aide, it was far too late. Vittoria had been seven, did not avert her gaze. She was witness to the moment he could no longer fight and succumbed to his fate.

"Do you think you could build up a tolerance to fight it?" Despite not wanting it, her hand shot out quickly, plucking his handkerchief before it disappeared completely. She wiped at the angry wounds, wondering if they would reopen and start bleeding again, but when she saw nothing treacle in crimson, and let the corner of her mouth to twitch into a sly smirk. "Just as your wounds heal quickly, your body could learn to do the same, no?"

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

With her hand withdrawn, Kilien sat back in his chair and donned an introspective sort of look about him. He did, indeed, have other allergies that he was aware of. Other plants commonly used by apothecaries for healing and medicinal needs. He supposed if he'd been more cognizant of the fact, he might've postulated the same for yarrow before nearly suffocating to death.

This didn't seem like a good time to bring that fact up, so he didn't.

"Mmm," he pondered aloud, lifting a hand to itch at his scruff, "I dunno if it works like that, but who knows." A shrug was offered in return.

"I"m a fast healer, but it doesn't - I don't heal any faster for the same wounds inflicted over and over..." but he did heal faster when he ate raw flesh and meat. This also didn't seem like a good time to be speaking such things.

"Guess I'm just a complex kinda guy," girls liked complex, right? Sure. It was the dumb and simple ones that got trodden on.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

"Complex?" She mused, humour twinkling in her eyes. "Well, I may agree with you there. You are not like the others in our class... different."

Vittoria reached for her tea, taking a measured sip and then turning her attention to parchment and quill. Noting the timing of blood stopping it's flow varied between the two trials, and the taste and texture of leaves compared to flower. She then began noting down her personal feedback on the yarrow tea, and left room for later if she wished to update it with findings of her own if the tea did help digestion later in the day.

Setting the quill down, Vittoria looked to Kilien.

"Different means you are not made to be mediocre. Interesting. And... perhaps I do find you interesting, Basmarc." Her eyes appraised him seated before her before meeting his gaze again with a small smile. "Perhaps not a puzzle... but you are intriguing." The fact he was not born with magic like she had been was the first thing that struck her. To see him use it so naturally, from assisting in making the tea for her and from healing himself from his own suffocating in reaction to yarrow.

She was not the kind to become attached to someone, but Vittoria was always curious of others. At least he was not bring to watch.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

"Intriguing?" Kilien could not help the sideways grin forming on his face at all those nice words coming out of Vittoria's mouth. His hand dropped from his scruff to point at himself, "Me?" He glanced around, twisting in his seat to look around as if she were talking about someone, anyone else but him, then glanced back at her to play dubious, "I think that tea might be going to your head..."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

"Can you name anyone else with an allergy to a medicinal and toxic plant?" She asked before drinking more tea. Her eyes remained on him, watching him over the rim of the mug he had made for her. Setting it down, Vittoria continued her questioning. "Intriguing because I do not think and unable to identify anyone else in our class that uses magic like you do." A pause, and then she was downing the rest of the tea in a slow and mannerly way.

Vittoria got up in her seat, mug in hand, and rounded the table. She came to stand beside Kilien, smiling down at him with some little pride showing in that expression. "Not many of our peers can meet my gaze, and those who can are not afraid of me. Intriguing, that." But really, it is the lack of fear in associating with her that humoured her.

She lifted her mug between them, encouraging him to take it with a nod. "And I would like to think your attempt at seeing my future would fare better than the efforts of our classmates." The poor Augur boy, suffering from his visions, and the Eildon girl, however odd she was, was an intriguing figure herself... just not in the same way as Kilien.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

"Can you name anyone else with an allergy to a medicinal and toxic plant?"

"Nope."

"Intriguing because I do not think and unable to identify anyone else in our class that uses magic like you do."

He wanted to ask her if she'd ever been to Elbion, because he was fairly certain there were quite a few mages running about that College with wands. Sure, wands had gone out of style for the vast majority of mages ages ago. They were a symbol of a mage's power both in magic and in society. During the Templar days, wands were snapped and burned and anyone found carrying one was burned or killed along with it... or so the stories go.

"Not many of our peers can meet my gaze, and those who can are not afraid of me. Intriguing, that."

"Not many of them have nothing to lose like I do," he smiled up at her plainly.

A hand reached up to pluck the mug from her hand like it might an apple from a tree, fingers brushing across fingers.

"It's not seeing into the future... entirely," Kilien's brow furrowed as he attempted to jog his foggy memory of what Ma Paksi taught him of the art of reading tea leaves. Back straightened once more in his chair, the mug settled on the table before him, his fingertips deftly turned it in place.

"Tea leaves can tell you plenty of things about a person if you know how to read them well enough. I'm no Ma Paksi, but..." he might be able to glean something about Miss Scary Starey Herself aside from what her various scents told him. With a slight clearing of his throat, Kil pushed hair from his face and placed both hands on either side of the mug, palms flat against the table and rings glinting.

He looked at the dredges of her tea in prolonged silence.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

"Then by all means, Kilien. Tell me what the tea leaves say." In order to get the best view, Vittoria pulled herself to sit up on the table, angling herself to peer over the mug. None of the remaining dregs gave her much indication of anything, but she was curious on how he could make this work.

"What do you look for?" The question left her lips before she could determine it herself, but she did not make a move to recover from it either. Instead, she embraced it. "Is it the dregs or the remaining water that you look at?"

Vittoria was not at all convinced this was a true way of divining, or any method at all, but Kilien's history had fascinated Vittoria enough to garner her inquiries. And he being so accommodating and answering her only made her more inclined to ask more questions of him.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

He was happy to answer her questions ... when he wasn't busy divining her fortunes. His left hand lifted slowly from the table, fingers lightly curling down except for the pointer and pinky. The hand in question dipped behind the faint curtain of brown locks falling about his face and pressed to his lips.

"Shhhhh..." eyes of wild forest looked up at her from beneath his brow as he quietly whispered back to her, "you'll scare the leaves away."

He needed them tempered in order to read them (he needed to concentrate and think real hard on what he was seeing). His hand slowly dropped back to flatten upon the table as his eyes reverted back to the mug.

More silence as he stared, looked, searched, remembered. He began to murmur under his breath in Rovani.

Then he fell silent again as he recognized an image within the leaves that he found somewhat ... unexpected? Unnerving? Unsettling.

With a sniff he eased back in his chair and wiped a hand back through his mane, "You will one day face a great river and if you do not take the hand of your enemy you will likely drown."

He neglected to mention the part about the wolf.

A shrugging frown pulled at his face, "This plant is not very forgiving." Which sort of tracked considering it had nearly killed him an hour before.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria pressed her lips together and lightly scowled at him. As he looked to the mug, concentrating on the imagery before him, she studied him. His face, the way his lips moved as he summoned some Rovani spell to help aide him, and the way his face changed as something became clear to him.

She still looked to him as he told her of what the leaves revealed to him.

It did not make much sense to her, forcing her dark brows to knit together. "An enemy?" All her enemies had been the enemies of Vel Anir once upon a time before the Revolution came to pass. Her hatred of elves came from those that educated her, melded her to follow in the path of Vel Anir and the glorious future, but now pacified with the republic.

She would rather destroy her own hand than to have to extend to accept the help of her enemy.

"How peculiar." Vittoria mused, humming her lingering thoughts on the matter. Sitting straight on, she leaned back onto her hands and bared her teeth slightly as the cuts made on her palms stretched and stung as they pressed into the wood. The pain was good, enough to keep her thinking presently. "I do not have many enemies."

The assignment they were to work on was now forgotten. Yarrow no longer something Vittoria wished to get out of the way and to focus on other aspects of her Academy education.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Something about that mug was putting him off. Kilien stared at it while she puzzled out the reading, running his tongue over his canines in distaste. Certainly what he saw could have been a variance of many things: a mortal wolf, a Grimm, a black shuck. Just because he was here, now, sharing space with her, did not mean it was a werewolf.

"Mmm," he hummed noncommittally. Though he felt pretty solid on what he told her, the wolf thing was throwing him and erring on the side of being a complete hack seemed like a good cop-out.

"You got your whole life to make enemies," that, at least, was the most valid statement he could give in relation to any of it, "and friends. Frenemies. How well do you swim?"

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

"Oh." Vittoria let out a small sound of surprise, her head dropping enough to look down at his pensive face. "I do suppose you are right about that."

Her future was one she intended to be hard working, that one day she would achieve the goal of becoming Archon. A game of politics and of creating a network of allies, her life after graduation would turn towards brides she will build and make many hesitant to trust in crossing. But there was the matter of her magic, the allure of wielding it and watching things and people crumble.

Perhaps the leaves told her of a moment in her future to Archon. A hand she would be unwilling to accept, but enough to get her there.

"I can swim. The lake a couple of hours walk into the Academy forest is large and deep enough for me to do so." Her father had her learn when she was young. Most children from Vel Luin were taught, were given free reign to play in the shallow waters nearby in the summer. "And I guess it depends on the current. Sometimes the water can look inviting but below the surface a current could take out even the most experienced swimmer."

Vittoria frowned.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

He finally looked back at her where she sat perched on the table at his left side. Given a quick once-over, there wasn't a whole lot to the girl. She looked like she'd sink instead of swim, but he knew he usually gave the same impression. He'd struggled against plenty of currents, both literal and figurative.

He'd let himself fill his lungs with water just to see if it'd really take him.

No such luck. At least not yet.

Well this was pretty fucking depressing. Kilien pushed himself to stand and leaned toward her as if to share a little secret, "I'll teach you how to read tea leaves when I've got some proper tea for it..." his beard shifted on his face around a playful grin as his hand reached by her for the mug, "clearly this stuff is cursed. I mean, I almost died an hour ago so it can't really be trusted, right?"

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria noted the proximity in which he leaned towards her, eliciting a sly smile on her face.

"Well, it appears that there is something we both can learn from one another." She sat up straight and moved her hands to now rest on her lap than being pressed wounds upon the tabletop. "I can teach you how to work with knives and you to teach me the way of tea leaves."

She sighed, one of contentment as she turned to look over her shoulder to the parchment of notes, then slowly brought her gaze to the yarrow plant. "Do you have this better tea here or is that something requiring a trip into town?" Her interest no longer lied with the idea of completing their assignment in a timely manner, not when they had another fortnight to turn it in together. Of course, this meant she was willing to put more time in his company, willingly, and beyond that of the parameters of their partnered assessment on poisons and antidotes.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

That was a nice way to put it. Learn things from one another. He wondered if this was how Vittoria referred to socializing and friends. Had to withold a snort at that.

"I don't make a habit of having tea very often. It's more of a social...thing." And he didn't socialize much given the distance most other initiates kept from him.

"By that I mean: I don't have any." He also didn't have money to spend on tea, but a lack of funds had never stopped him from shopping before.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria raised a brow at him.

"Well, that will not suffice." She tilted her head while looking to him. "I do enjoy tea... but I do not think the sort I have is what you speak of in terms of proper tea." Vittoria's lips turned upwards, turning into a smile that showed the slight hint of dimples.

"Ever been to town, Kilien? Did you know there is a small tea house there, and that is where I buy my own?" She spoke quietly, slowly, eyes still watching him like she were some watchful predator. Despite being more than an hour's ride by horse, the small town saw plenty of Initiates over the years, even more so after the Revolution. They improved their wares and trade to better suit the young Anirian soldiers in the making, but Vittoria saw little in the appeal other than the tea.

She had to agree with him that tea seemed to be a social thing, but tea easier to make than coffee.

"Tea, coffee, sweets." Vittoria shrugged, looking down at her lap. "We have the rest of the day free, unless you had better things to get to?" She ran a thumb over one of her cuts, still tender and possibly in need of being cleaned and bandaged. Perhaps gloves over that if she intended to do any riding today.

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

"Town?" head tilting to the side, Vitt would find herself fixed with a look of curiosity. He'd been into the capital a few times, but never to any smaller local towns. Eyes skating around in consideration, Kilien slowly drew away from the table and shuffled over to the wash basin.

Took his time offering an answer - had to give the dredges of tea leaves in her mug another glance. The shape of the wolf stared back at him.

He dunked it into the water bucket and swished it all around with a little extra vigor to erase that image from it and his mind.

"I don't but... you sure being seen in public with a ruffian like me won't tarnish your reputation?"

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria lifted her chin as he began to wash her mug, eyeing him with a newfound interest. "You think I worry about a reputation?" She supposed she could understand why he would think so, but her aversion to being seen was to not invite others in approaching her or thinking they were familiar on any terms of theirs. To watch others think they were on the same level as her was laughable, and so Vittoria preferred to be unbothered.

"If anything, the idea of you being seen with me, and the shock on their faces would humour me. Such small minds getting caught up in the company I keep, now that would be an amusing thing to see." But she shrugged, dusting off the dust that caught on her breeches. "Who is to say I would be the subject of their attention? Perhaps they would think you are such a charmer, even Initiate Larrainth can stand it."

It was easy to muse with him like this, to dare to shock their peers only added a certainty of fun to such an outing with him.

"Unless you are worried what other Initiates may think seeing us spending time together." She slid from her seat, leaned in to whisper at his ear before darting away to finish cleaning up the mess of the pancakes. "Whatever you do, do not tell them about the pancakes I made especially for you."

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

"Me? Worried?" he glanced back over his shoulder just in time for her little whisper, bringing their faces quite a bit closer than they had ever been. Her scent lingered and for a moment he almost didn't register what she said about the pancakes.

"Wasting effort on what other people think of me never did me any good," because a Rovani would always be a Rovani no matter how nicely you dressed them up or how fancy of a place you put them in. Soon as the lineage came to bear, Anirian opinions would always spring back.

The only person whose opinion mattered to him anymore was his mother and he hadn't seen her in what felt like ages. What would she think of him now? he wondered, Having tea and pancakes with such a fine young Lady.

That he was such a charmer.

Kilien smirked to himself as he set the mug off to the side to dry.

"If you wanna go into town for tea," his hand snaked past her side while she tidied up, snatching a small handful of leftover blueberries from behind her, smiling charmingly, "I'll gladly go with you."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria made no effort to move to give distance, but her keen eyes caught his handful of blueberries. With a snap, her hand wrapped around his wrist and she plucked a couple from his hand, and not the punnet, and ate them before releasing his hand.

"Let them judge with their small minds." She said, giving him a small smile that looked unnatural on her face. Slowly, she half turned to him and leaned into the table. "I faced enough of their scrutiny as a child, but it only made me realise they mean nothing..."

Trailing off, she stared at him a moment before humming and stepping out away from him. "Well, we best get going. We need horses to get there."

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Not the blueberries...!

Ah, well. At least she left him some.

His eyes followed her little smile and stare with an easy expression. He wasn't one to think of others as having small minds, but he liked the way she did not care for opinions of strangers. It was a good way to live.

A strangled sort of sound exited his mouth at the mention of horses followed by a despondent sigh. "Great," he said with a sniff, tossed a blueberry into the air and caught it in his mouth, then moved to follow her outside.

"How far away is this town?" how long would he have to wrangle a horse between his legs to get there? Another blueberry tossed and caught.