Private Tales Ye of Little Faith

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Orion

Remains of a Man
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"There is no place on this world for a being like me"
Wild amusement. That's what danced and trotted it's way through his mind every time that little thought shot up to his brain for a fraction of a second. Why was that something he constantly felt a need to remind what was left of himself? It wasn't as though it were anything he wasn't acutely aware of already. The laugh that the sudden thought brought to his mind caused him to laugh aloud, bringing pain with it as the arrow buried in his shoulder moved along with him as he limped onshore, water dripping from his body as his heavy boots crunched against the sand beneath his feet. Once again it had been proven that he had no place amongst other life; he'd been shot and tossed to sea. It would have killed any other man, and the one who called himself Orion wished he was of that caliber.

But now, he was something less than man; merely a shell that had once been human, withering and dying with every moment that passed. Even as the salty air of the ocean filled his nostrils he felt it returning; that ethereal metronome ticking softly in the back of his ill mind, the invisible demons that constantly threatened to rip apart his humanity speaking evil words into his ears...

He was once human, and now the remnant of such a being. His power, His magic, tore at every fiber of his being constantly. He felt it like his skin was being peeled away slowly, and with every step, his sense of self faded. For when Janus Carrux was consumed by the tremendous potential that had once made him loved, he became somebody else. Just like a troubled spirit finds solace in the bottom of an ale, he would allow himself to sink into the deepest recesses of his mind. Now, he was Orion, with a mind twisted and tainted with darkness. He loved this world, Arethil, that had condemned him and left him behind. He loved this world so much that he wanted to watch it suffer and feel his pain. That, or end his own pain. If somebody would silence his haunted head, he'd be ever so grateful. He'd lost count of all the thoughts and emotions that kept him awake, never quite fitting.

It was the same thoughts that were keeping him on his feet, distracted from the throbbing pain in his shoulder as he left the rocky shore, heading into one of the many small forests that littered Arethil. He believed he'd washed up on the southern tip of Falwood, but he couldn't be sure; he didn't know how long he'd been adrift or where the boat had been when the arrow had sent him overboard. All he knew was the cruelty that the gods saw fit to make him live on, not granting him his death then and there.

The cool breeze that ran through the trees was like ice against his soaked skin, his teeth clenching as his body shivered, which of course only made the pain in his shoulder that much worse. He was so close; a small village just a short walk away, he could see it now.... But he was weak, his body collapsing in a heap in the dirt, laid on his back as he drifted to unconsciousness once more. Perhaps until his death.

Palmyra Creze
 
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Palmyra was on the run once again; like she often was. She'd settled in a small village, had a small business going in healing although one couldn't call it a 'business' she rarely accepted coin, there was no way she could. Yet still she kept her face thoroughly wrapped, she couldn't risk people seeing her face and selling her out.

She walked towards the river like she often did to sit and ponder yet this time something was off. She saw a mass, a lug of a man. Her face fell as she rushed towards him, running while trying not to trip on the linen folds of her dress. Finally she reached his side after what felt like forever, he was too big she couldn't move him easily, nor could she move him by his shoulders; one was injured. She rushed to the lower part of his body and fought against the water plants that clung to him. "Just get him out of the water Palm" she told herself over and over, she could help him after his body stopped cooling down. Palmyra got most of him out the best she could, yet she removed the linen off her face and head and wrapped him up tightly like a cacoon as she straddled him to get a good look at his shoulder.

"I'm Palm, I'm going to help." She told him calm and sweetly, though he seemed barely there. "I hope you warm up." Palmyra told the man gently as she removed some of his clothing that covered the injury. "I'm sorry I know it's cold, it'll be better soon, I promise." Her peridot eyes lined with Kohl tried their best to find life within his own eyes as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a vile of greenish liquid. "Now this," she began telling him, "this is juices from Yarrow and Shepherd's purse it's going to stop your bleeding pretty quickly." she poured a little into his wound, within 5 minutes the blood that remained gushing had stopped. "There that's better, hey?" she was talking to him not to scare him as well as keep him awake.

"Okay next I'm going to break off the shaft of the arrow, I'll be gentle." She said with a relaxed smile as there was a light snapping sound. Her face fell a little as her small hand hovered over the arrowhead that was still lodged deeply. She closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose before there was a light hum that thrummed throughout her body, a small flash of light appeared as she mumbled a prayer and his skin began to knit together and the arrowhead slowly festered out. She smiled with a little giggle, "She likes you."

The next step was getting him to her tent, so she could watch him recover. Blood loss would make him weak. She got off from on top of the man and grabbed her makeshift blanket. "I'll be back very soon. You stay awake for me." Palm told him in her usual sweet demeanor but her tone had a seriousness behind it. She wrapped her head up again and sprinted towards the village.

Alas she found the help she needed, a couple of farmers that agreed to move the man off the bank of the river to her tent. He'd find himself in a white canvas tent on a bed surrounded by various herbs, with Palmyra asleep in the chair across from him, the tea cup beside her telling him she tried to keep awake.

(Fun fact : Those herbs Palmyra used actually stop bleeding. They were used throughout WWII and in some medical offices today. They're known to stop bleeding almost instantly.)

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Orion was hardly in any condition to process the world around him anymore. Even barring his injuries, his mind had long since surrendered trying to make sense of his thoughts, and as the blood poured from his wound freely, there was nothing to see through his glassy, dulled eyes but a collage of nonsensical shapes and colors swirling around him like a maelstrom had picked up the entire world, twisting it into some abstract art imperceptible to the eye. Surely, he was dying this time? Surely, this was his rest, and his repentance for his actions?

When the woman would straddle his waist, she might see the damndest thing on her patient's face; a peaceful smile, one that spoke of a man truly happy. He was dimly aware of the pressure against his abdomen, and a voice blurry and unrecognizable in the darkness that covered his world. His eyes open, white and glazed to meet those of the woman above him. Who...? She was young, beautiful and full of life, practically glowing to his preception. Why would she be here in the presence of on the precipice of mortality such as him? As she reached out, sliding the black jacket from his chest to bare his upper body, covered in strange symbols burned into his skin to her, his eyes would narrow in the realization that she wished to keep him here.

Still far too dazed to speak and hear clearly, with even his vision blurry and doubled, he said nothing as she presented him with the odd liquid that she then poured onto his wound. Finally she would hear some sign of life from him, a low groan as his bleeding began to stem. The last bit of adrenaline his body had to offer him pumped suddenly through his system, causing his hips to shift beneath her as she sought to remove that arrow that had pierced him. When at last she had sealed his wound and removed the offending object, Orion's form was spent. The pain had been just as intense removing the arrow than it had been being shot, and the moment Palmyra left his sight, his eyes slid shut, and he drifted away.

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When Palmyra would awake from her accidental slumber, she would not find the man she'd saved laying in bed, but sitting upright. His eyes were alert, and his hands rested in his lap as he stared at one of the many herbs adorning the tent she'd supposedly transported him to. There were stains on his cheek that indicated tears, but he was not crying. At least, not anymore. He'd been saved. So close to finally reaching the point of no return and he'd been plucked back from the jaws of death once more.

It was frustrating enough to make him scream...

His lips would move slowly, as though making attempt not to strain himself by talking. Orion had a wish for death, but he would not harm himself to reach it. This woman, this kind stranger... She knew not who she saved, and her intentions were honorable. She deserved not his ire. "You saved me, didn't you? I saw you on top of me, pulling that arrow from my flesh..." She'd even brought him to a bed, her own by the looks of the tent. Why...? "Your actions were those of a thoughtful soul. I apologize for this trouble."

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Palmyra woke with a jump. Another nightmare. She shook out her whole body with a shaky breath before she clued in to the fact that the gentleman was awake and upright. Palm jumped a little when she saw that as well, she was quite jumpy it seemed.

He spoke to her in a gentle demeanor, one of understanding his condition and how he must not upset it. She smiled. "I didn't save you per-say.. you did most the work yourself. I just gave you a leg up, and the Goddess pulled the arrow not I." She said sleepily but in a kind way. She struggled taking compliments, and would rather place the compliment on someone or something else. It made it easier for Palm. She laughed aloud as he said he was a 'trouble'. "Oh no! You were far from a trouble sir, you were very complacent, staying awake and all for me. Now let me look at your chest?" Palmyra said in a bubbly tone filled with energy.

Then it hit her like a horse drawn carriage, her head wrap. She must've set it somewhere because her face was exposed. All of it. He'd know who she was, he could sell her out, and before Palm knew it she was on her knees in front of the bed looking up at him, tears welling in her eyes, the smudged kohl burned at them as it leaked into the pooled tears. "You saw my face. You could give me back now.." Palmyra managed to have tumble out of her mouth. "Please don't give me back, I can't go back to him. I just can't" her voice wavered and grew as her emotions rose.

Orion
 
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She was young, full of the life that he lacked. It was impossible for him not to be affected by the infectious smile that she wore as she spoke. Even so, her kind words bordered on the nonsensical when she attempted to discredit herself so vehemently upon his slight praise. His grey eyes would narrow slightly in confusion, and he would reply to her praise of his 'efforts' thusly. "If it were not for you, I would be dead. For better or for worse. You do not allow yourself to appreciate what you accomplish." It wasn't a question, it was an observation. Orion had once been a teacher; he'd encountered people with personalities like hers. They all had underlying reasons for their lack of self-appreciation, and he could not claim to know hers.

She'd thought she was doing him a favor, but he'd wished he'd died there on that beach. The poor thing had acted in vain. She'd only saved a man who was slowly dying anyways, if not physically, then mentally. His decay could not be stalled, though he'd tried and tried. Now, he'd learned to accept it.

She requested to see his chest, and with a quirked brow he prepared to allow her to examine him; it wasn't ideal, but he had no intent on arguing or belaboring this process. Before she had a chance though, she seemed to suddenly become aware of something, kneeling before him with eyes swollen and damp. Her face? She was displeased he'd observed her features? No... "You're in hiding. On the run. You were wearing a wrap when you found me, and now you've forgotten it." He sighs, shaking his head. He'd no idea what she ran from, who 'he' was. It wasn't at all his issue though. Besides, he owed her this much. "Relax, I've no reason to tell a soul what I've seen." He frowned, adding in what almost seemed a plea. "No tears..."


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Palmyra let out a small smile, it was not as large as her usual smiles but still kind. "I am not magic." she said softly. "My gifts, my knowledge comes from them, and I feel it rude to take their credit." Her accent was thick as she spoke. "You oversell me." He was surprisingly calm, as if he felt no pain at all. That was good, she'd hoped he wouldn't. He also seemed very alert for what had happened and how she had found him, but she was not to tell a person how to feel. It was nice to have him around, he wasn't bad on the eyes now that'd she'd had a proper glance at him and he was well spoken; meaning he must've been educated. A rare thing these days it seemed.

She shook her head vigorously as he analyzed her situation. Fear seeped into her whole body like a venomous poison would your bloodstream. The fear evaporated as he told her to calm down and she exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding before nodding more calmly her voice breaking a little as Palm gave him a relieved and sad "Thank you." he asked her not to cry and she wiped her eyes on her long sleeved linen dress. Her kohl leaving black streaks down her cheeks and smudges on her sleeves. She frowned a little as she stood up again.

Palmyra sighed trying to calm all of her emotions. "I don't believe we've ever been formally introduced" she said trying to recover her social dignity. "I do apologize, it seems unprofessional to cry in front of you." A small hand ran through her long dark hair starting at her scalp pushing curled locks off of her face as she examined him slyly. Trying to see what she could see without jumping in head first into medical junk.

Orion
 
While Orion was quite nonplussed by the situation, he was very aware of the condition of his body. He was in no shape to travel, and he wasn't sure how long it would take until he was. Orion was used to being mentally unwell, but his physical form rarely took such damage. It was new, but he found that it perhaps wasn't as unpleasant as so many made it out to be. Rather, as the raven-haired man lifted a hand to the area where the arrow had once pierced him, he found that it had made him feel far more alive than he had in years.

Her tears did eventually wane under his request. There was much to be sad about in this world, much to bemoan. He did not being seen for who you were to be worthy of such bereavement. His hand trailed down the bare skin of his chest, exposed as the blanket that covered him rested at his waist. The odd markings that he routinely burned into his skin were fading, but his grey gaze was now more focused on the woman before him, tears drying slowly as she attempted to subdue her emotions. In some effort to help, Orion's lips would curl into a comforting smile. "We all have reasons to cry, and there is no shame in doing so. You are in no danger currently, so I merely ask that you not waste tears on me."

Perhaps he would seem cold, although it was certainly not his intention. Orion didn't get much opportunity to speak with others, so he could very well tend to come off a bit unnecessarily harsh or brash. In fact, he'd found it quite astounding that he'd made it this far while only getting shot by an arrow once. In attempt to seem a bit more welcoming, he nods his head. "I am called Orion. To whom do I owe this pleasure?"

Orion struggled to move, swinging his legs off of the bed and attempting to stand. He still had his bottoms on, thankfully. Not much point in stripping him bare for a shoulder wound. The moment his feet touch the ground, however, his knees buckle, unused to standing after being prone so long, and he drops to a knee with a groan. "Damnation... How long have I been out?"

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He comforted? assured? her, Palmyra was unsure what one could call what the man was doing. It seemed well natured but the ways in which it came across were unsympathetic, as if he were stating facts. Should she be upset? That he stated facts? All one could ask of another is the truth and that was indeed what he'd given her. He was true with the world, the world was dark, sad. Yet Palm couldn't believe it was all bad, with dark there had to be light always. Light just needed help right now, and she'd help it; forever.

Now this man before her, the one she saved, she analyzed him. Not analyzation of the physical; no. An analyzation of the soul and what it told her. Or in this mans case, what remained of a soul. It floated above him as all peoples souls did, yet its wisps and tendrils were separated and small, they reached for one and other but everytime they got closed they recoiled. In violent waves they bounced between longing and war. Her face scrunched a little as she watched what many would view a drama unfold before her. A tale of love and hate, of craving and disgust. The dark haired man was at war with himself, a war that lost him. He seemed well, in the mind; sound. What secrets was he hiding? The scrunching of her face morphed into curiosity before any expression in her face disappeared. She gave her head a little waggle back and forth, drawing herself back into the present.

She'd asked his name, and he'd delivered. Orion. She gave a little smile as the name bounced around in her head, Goddess above she liked it for some odd reason. She flustered a little before in a calm voice she gave him her own name. "I am Palmyra, you may call me Palm, or Myra; though I much prefer Palm." Her mother always called her Myra. It was not that Palm hated her mother, or disliked her, no, Palm was incapable of the feeling of hate. No one deserved such disdain from the girl, yet the idea of anyone assuming the same.. power.. to make Palm so alone, so scared, didn't sit right with her. Her cheeks gained a little bit of colour as she saw his bare chest. With clammy palms she grabbed the ends of each sleeve. "FOCUS!!" her mind screamed at her, he was a patient, she'd seen plenty of men shirtless. Wait. That sounded bad, she hadn't seen them shirtless, shirtless, not like this, well exactly like this. She exhaled shoving everything she could out of her mind. With her breath out she managed to make her complexion return to what felt like normal.

The second she leveled herself he made way to stand. She had no time to shout a 'no' or 'don't' before he found himself on the ground. She was at his side almost instantly. "My Goddess, how did I not notice how tall he is..?" she mumbled, before yelling at herself internally again. What was wrong with her?? She slung one of his arms over her shoulders as he questioned how long he'd been 'out'. She exhaled. "It's hard to say, with me it's been a week or so; but I don't know what kind of shape you were in before me. It's..." she inhaled. "... It's going to take some time Orion." her tone was gentle. "A fair bit of time.." Her face was dangerously close to his as she spoke, she gazed into his eyes almost getting lost in the hue of them before she broke the gaze.

With a "1, 2, 3" Palm exhaled while standing up. Their near foot and a half height difference was quite noticeable as well even on her tippy toes Palm still had him hunched over. "Noots." She called out pitifully, before she grasped for the chair beside her to no avail, her wingspan was too small. "Bed it is." she grunted in a strained voice. It was then she noticed the burns on his body.. what in the worlds were those from..?

Orion
 
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A week... He'd slept for seven days. That was incredible, that he rested so long and yet still felt so tired. He'd been tired for years now; he knew no other way to feel. Where there had once been a bright young mind full of vigor, hope and ambition now rested a cacophony of regrets and broken dreams. Still, it was the memories of the dreams he'd once held that prevented him from destroying himself altogether. It was not his light that kept him even the slightest bit rooted in reality, but the memory of what it had been like to feel that light. In Orion's own mind, he'd deserved to die with that arrow lodged inside of him. Once again though, fate had pulled death away from him, instead sending him... this girl.

This girl, whose orbs seemed to look through the sunken, sullen features of his face and into a much deeper part of him. Oh, he could tell she saw things that normal people could not; the way she gazed at him, her pupils dilating and her iris' darting from place to place as if observing something in motion... When she gazed upon him like that, his own lips would part in wonderment. What was it the girl who had saved him saw? He found himself feeling a burning curiosity, something so rarely burning inside of him...

And just like the doting caregiver she'd proven herself to be, when he'd faltered and fell to his knees she was there in an instant. He felt his arm wrapping around her smaller frame, the warmth of her breath on his cheek as she stressed his situation to him. Turning his head to gaze into her eyes, those silvery pools lost in her gaze as she stared up at him, he cracked a small smile. "Palm it is." She didn't need to tell him that he had a long recovery ahead. He could feel in his bones that the arrow had only been the straw that broke the camel's back.

"I've been in declining health for some time. This latest setback has simply allowed it all to catch up with me." He admits, allowing her to support a bit of his weight by pressing against her as he raises a hand to his shoulder, feeling the dull ache where he'd been pierced radiate through his muscles. His face winced, teeth clenching as the fog of sleep fades away to let him feel the pain it had numbed. He groans softly, his voice deep and gravelly as he gripped her tightly while she helped him to his feet. He fell back into a sitting position on the bed, letting out a long sigh as he looked at her through that raven curtain on his head.

She was staring at his chest.

"Runes. Designed to lessen the severity of my maladies." He explained. He wasn't offended by her wandering eyes. At one point, he'd likely have flirted with the young woman. Now though... well, he wasn't in much condition for any emotions besides the ones he was stuck with now. His hand still gripped her, and as it began to slide away, he took her hand in his own. "Fate has seen fit to leave me in your care, Palmyra... Palm." He corrected. "I will not bite it's hand. I am entrusting myself to you for this period of trial..."

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She kept her face as neutral as possible as he told her of his failing health. He'd leant into her as she helped him to his feet, and she felt his energies shift. He was in pain. Palm looked at his face as he contorted it in agony. Her free hand had a mind of its own as it stroked his cheek, "I know it hurts." she told him soothingly. "I'll make it go away.. I promise."

The gravity of his much larger mass falling down onto the bed, and the fact that his arm was around her threw her down with him, like a rag doll. She landed with her hair all over her face and nearly in his lap. She managed to control her body a little landing beside him with her leg across his lower body. She hadn't even noticed although as he'd caught her wandering eyes and informed her of the burn marks, like if he was in her head, understanding what she wished to know. Her eyes fell sadly, as she gazed at him. "It is sad." she said before looking him in the eye before continuing speaking, "It is sad that an ailment has caused.." her hand traced the 'runes' on his chest. "...has caused such harm." her tone was soft and gentle. She withdrew her hand slowly from the bare skin her fingers had left trails on.

Her heartbeat was racing as she kept her peridot coloured eyes on his own eyes. His dark hair covered his face from the struggle, and she had half a mind to push it out of his face but she didn't. Something about him was entrancing. Palm was never like this, men did not make her weak in the knees, or bring such colours to her cheeks. She was too busy to be romanced by the mere presence of another, not to mention what her 'husband' would do should he discover his glorified slave had found solace in another. Why.. she knew what he'd do, deep down she did, which is why as long as he breathed she could do nothing but keep herself away from this intoxicating man infront of her. It's like she was drunk from being around him, and she was okay with it.

He took her hand in his own, it took all Palm had not to giggle at the size difference. Her small hand was enveloped in his much larger one. He explained to her that'd he'd trust her through the healing process and she smiled. Her cheeks were flushed as the warmth of his hand spread up her whole body. If he was to trust her, then he deserved to know. Her face fell dark, a look rarely seen on the young healer before she opened her mouth to speak. "There is something you must know." she croaked out; sad to ruin a moment that made her heart sing.

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This was either the strangest twist of fate, or the cruelest joke fate could play on him. This selfless servant of the sick and weary, this Palmyra. She knew so little of him and his ailments, and yet he felt tenderness in every brush of her fingers against his cheek. She touched him as though she were afraid she may break him, and it was a gentleness he'd never felt before in all of his years. Why, instead of granting him death, did fate instead seek to draw out emotions and feelings he'd long since abandoned?

Why, as she fell atop his rugged chest, burnt imperfections and sore aching muscles alike, did he find himself not wanting her to draw away? The cold steely gaze that seemed set upon his sunken tired face at all times seemed to soften more and more the longer she doted on him. As her gentle fingers traced the burnt charcoal markings he'd placed upon his own person, they left trails along his flesh that seemed to burn as soon as her presence was no more. Orion's eyes would close, his head falling back upon the pillow of the bed as he exhaled out a reply to her. "My own failures have earned my my curses. They are what I deserve..." He breathed out. It wasn't entirely true; Even if he hadn't fallen to a lurid state of madness, this condition he suffered would have taken hold on him eventually. "I am a Mind Mage. Or rather, I was one. Now, my own magic has grown too powerful for me to control. My own psyche is slowly being torn apart by my energies..."

He felt her return the gesture of his hand on hers with a squeeze, and his silver eyes would open to look up at his caretaker once more. There it was again, that energy that seemed to fill the peridot that looked back at him. Even more than they way she so gently cared for him, it was that life within her that he found himself so transfixed by. She was full of life, life that Orion had been missing for so long. "Normally..." His eyes widened, pupils dilating as he spoke. His lips seemed to move on their own. "I would refuse those who would try to cure what I believe cannot be fixed." The thumb of the hand she held escaped, resting on the back of her hand and running back and forth across it slightly. "If you truly believe you can take away my pain... I have faith in your ability."

Orion was feeling the same heat as hers, although he was much less certain of it's meaning. Was it their bodies merely telling them of a mutual attraction? Was it some effect of his magic, twisting their thoughts in one direction? Was it the way she blushed down at him, gazing at him with barely restrained adoration that he found himself not all too hesitant to return? He wasn't sure.

"You may tell me what you deem necessary. A man such as I has little he can judge unto others, Palm. Nothing will change my opinions or feelings."

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He told her his failures are what deserved him whatever she deemed to be tearing at his heart. She grimaced slightly. "No." she said, she rarely gave people soul readings. It messed with their head, often leading people to be unpleased with how dark they really are. But the fragments of wisps, despite their detachment were good, and light. She would not give him an explanation, simply just her no. He may say what he wished on the matter but that's all he would receive from her, is a no. Orion's soul was not of punishment.

He described the tearing apart of energies and she clued in, that is why his soul was so torn apart. He was being torn. How could the soul stay if the host is ripping apart? She knew not how to fix it completely, but to help? She'd promised him although, and she meant it. Until her dying day she'd work to take the pain away, for seeing him hurt, was a sight she never wanted to see; be it by his own hand or the feelings that shredded him apart. She didn't know what is it she should respond with so she simply nodded in understanding and gave his shoulder a tender pat.

She smiled at him as he studied her, in the ways that she so often studied his face. Though his intentions were likely purer then Palms. Her hand wrapped comfortably in the cocoon that was his own.

As his thumb rubbed against her hand tenderly she felt her cheeks deepen. Her olive skin had to be the only thing saving her from the mortification of bright red cheeks, for that she was grateful. He did not believe she could fix it, but she did. That was what mattered. "You need not trust me, I've enough trust in me." she said as a reassurance.

She didn't push her romantic advances further, rather made way to withdraw her hand from his own; just to see if he might convince her to stay. It was childish, but the healer, the scientist, within her needed to know, needed to observe some sort of feeling. Was it just her? Was she merely a conquest? She'd heard many men do that to young woman, they are intimate then disappear never to be seen again. It'd hurt a many of the woman she'd come across in her life.

She took a deep breath before going on to tell him a story. "I was sold when I was sixteen," she started, "by my parents. They didn't want me, and they needed the coin. The man they sold me too, well he is a lord. He's no good to me, he uses me as a table or armrest. And the worst is when he chains me to sit by his chair like a damn dog!" her voice raised and cracked in a painful hate, she inhaled through her nose and her body tremored with energy. Her voice recovered as she spoke, "I'm on the run. If he finds me, he will beat me, and then drag me 'home' by my hair." She finished, hate pulsing through her own body. The only person that filled her small body with such rage was that man.


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She'd begun to pull away from him, her small hand slipping from his grip as she began to recount her tale. It was one of misfortune, one of betrayal by one's own parents. It was not spoken with calm tongue or even tone; she was upset, and her sweet voice that carried through the air like a soft breeze was tinged with hate and anger. Those negative emotions had no place in a girl like her. No, the darkness had no place within her light. As she pulled away, he would grip her hand tighter. He spoke softly, in nearly a whisper. "No. Stay with me."

He'd made his choice.

Palmyra was an imperfect soul, as was everybody. Her life was rife with fear and trepidation. She was always on the run, afraid of being discovered and taken back to whatever hellish life awaited her. Despite all of this, she saw something in him. She went out of her way to save him. Pulling on her arm, he would tug her body down atop him, wrapping her in his embrace. His broad, strong arms would loop around her back and hold her against him as he muttered to her in carefully chosen words. "Living in fear is not living. You chose to try and bolster my life when your own has such little positivity. Listen to me now..." A hand would slowly run up and down her back, in a comforting gesture. "You have done much for me, and endeavor to do more. There will be no running, no being beaten and afraid so long as I am in your care. No lord matches me in power, even bedridden and decaying."

"You are more than a girl sold for coin. You are full of light and life. The kind that I miss so dearly... You are the light that I will defend. So long as you do not allow me to give up on myself, I will keep you safe, Palmyra."

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He reached for her hand, to hold it again, and she gave it. Willingly, she gave it. Palm had made her choice too, as much as the healer felt it was wrong she was compelled. Her brain had been hijacked into doing the things it was doing but she didn't care. Orion asked her to stay and she nodded, giving his hand a slight squeeze to assure him. Her face was warm as she stared down at his silver colour eyes. She found herself lost in their depths again. "I'll stay." she told him quietly, the desperation in her tone was mingled with relief.

She giggled a little as he pulled her down onto his bare chest, the move surprised Palmyra but she did not resist, no she was willing. The small woman was careful to avoid his shoulder, for fear of hurting him further. Yet she laid there, the warmth of his body spreading throughout her own. Her hand lay flat on his chest as he hugged her close. Palmyra felt safe there, like that, concealed by Orion's tender embrace. So there she'd lay as if she was upon the comfiest mattress she'd ever been on, yet this was somehow better. He was better.

He spoke to her about living and how she wasn't. She nodded, he was true. Palm was not alive, she lived day to day figuring out how she could seem like she didn't exist. Her whole goal was to be non-existent for her own safety. The secrecy was no way to live and the man beneath her was everything but false. She blushed as he complimented her care of him, it was nice to be flattered. Her finger found another rune as she began tracing it, a tender sign of endearment and care. "You're already broken." She said sullenly, as her finger stopped slowly. "I do not wish you to tear yourself apart." Palm told Orion in a near whisper.

Her cheeks deepened and her eyes moistened as he spoke to her. Never had anyone told her that before, that she was worth life. No one told her she was special and he wanted to defend her. Her voice was hoarse as she said "Thank you." the words she meant dearly. Her fingers traced his skin once again as his hand kept rubbing her back. She felt so calm, and so centered. Palm could die here for all she cared. But she had a promise to make Orion. "I will never let you give up on yourself Orion." Her tone was sweet and doting as she pledged her promise to him. Her hand reached up to his face again, before finding its resting place on his cheek. "I'll never give up."

Orion
 
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For this brief moment between the two of them; an ailing mage at the end of his rope and a young healer in need of safety and security, Orion felt human again. Holding her there tight against his chest as she brushed and stroked his skin with affection and adoring hands was the most intimate connection he'd had with anyone since he'd begun to unravel. Even if it was only for now, he'd found a purpose; something to make him wish to push forward: Protect Palmyra. Keep her safe from the darkness that had taken him already.

Her whisper was hot against his ear, eliciting a heavy breath from his mouth that brushed against her cheek like warm air from a fire. "Should I begin to crumble, I will rely on you to hold me together..." He whispers back quietly. The emotions running through him, so foreign and out of place in what had been his hell scape of a mind for years, were not normal by any standards. He had only jut met this Palmyra, and already he found his mind and body yearning for her. He was enraptured by the life she carried on her shoulders, just waiting to unleash upon the world when her freedom was found.

The last remnants of Janus Carrux pined to be a part of that life, to be with her when she thrived and broke her chains. It was this piece of Janus, not Orion, that looked back at Palmyra as she caressed his cheek, gazing at him and professing her devotion to his own well-being. How could she claim to find such importance in him? He was nothing. He was a failure. He was...

He was kissing her, his lips pressed softly to hers as his eyes slid shut. Orion was no longer aimless. No longer did he wander without purpose. The same directive throbbed in his head again and again as one of his hands slid to rest on the back of her head. Palmyra Creze is your light. Protect her at all costs.

Palmyra Creze
 
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She smiled at him in her usual sweet smile. "You better." she told him in a tone of joking seriousness. It was happening fast, all of this, but Palm was okay with it. She laid there still as he kept her warm and secure. Palm kept that big dopey smile on her face the whole time she was there.

Soon his lips were on her own as a feeling of electricity pulsed through her body. Palm felt as if she could run around the tent her body was so airy as his hands found themselves buried in her dark curls. She stayed there happily not wanting to quit, it was if she didn't need air.

Palmyra never allowed herself to be close with men. Sure when she first escaped she went a little wild, there was a man in a tavern but it wasn't like this. It didn't make her yearn for more, no it was dirty, sweaty, and an act of physicality. Sure this was also physical yet it didn't feel like it was nothing. Her hands found a place on either side of his neck pulling him in closer to her.

Alas she pulled back and smiled at him. "You're still injured." Palmyra joked with him. Last thing she needed was him getting worse. All she wanted was for him to be whole again. A man could come back from madness, she'd ensure he could.


Orion
 
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His fingers coursed gently through her hair, gentle and delicate in their journey down to the back of her neck where his palm then rested. He knew, deep within himself, that merely having such an intense attraction to somebody did not make you sane. Indeed, he still felt madness and wicked thoughts clawing at his mind every second. All the same, thoughts of her seemed to dull their ache as her lips pressed so warmly against his. This... was it's own type of medicine.

Janus had been married once, to a woman he'd graduated alongside. It was as normal as relationships went, happy for a time. It had ended when the madness came. She began to fear him, to loathe what he was becoming. When finally he'd slipped and descended to darkness, she left him behind.

It had been years since Orion had been loved in any capacity. Her palms were like smoldering coals against the sides of his neck, burning with some intense energy as she pressed further against him. He could feel his body beginning to react, his blood beginning to boil, right before she pulled back and took it away from him. He almost scowled at the absence over.

Injured? Yes... he supposed that was true. With a small smirk, he would tilt his head to allow his raven locks to cover one of his eyes as he shot back coyly. "I am... but you are my healer. Will you not tend to me, and make this pain lessen?" His voice was almost husky, daring her to let go of her reservations and do as she truly wanted.

Palmyra Creze
 
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She gave him a devilish smirk, he had her there. Without another word her lips were back on his as she fell into an abyss of lust. Palmyra couldn't stop, it was like she was addicted to him and so she kept going.

Palmyra's reasonable decision making was gone, as his touch left feelings of electricity all over her skin. She was on fire but she couldn't stop, she didn't want it to stop. Palm delved deeper and deeper into him as one of her hands searched for his own. Upon finding it she'd lace her fingers into his own.

But she was still his healer so she pulled herself out of his depths once again, "Let me know if I hurt you.." she told him in a seductive voice. His health came first, she would not sacrifice that. For isn't that what you did when you cared for another?

She imagined they'd be quite the sight, a married woman and a mage consumed by his own madness, but she didn't care. He could be a murderous madman and she wouldn't care so long as he stayed, stayed with her. Palmyra still didn't understand what was happening but whenever he touched her, her mind shut off. It was blissful silence. As she stared at him her face couldn't help but light up in a smile; he was ruggedly handsome.

She used a hand to brush some of the locks out of his face gently, so she could observe his features further, before planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. "Tell me.." she began quietly, "tell me all about you."

Orion
 
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His sight was clouded, not by madness, but by a lovely mix of lust and adoration that served to cut it's way through his misery like a searing knife through fresh snow. She had healed his body with her magic, and now it seemed as though her body was having a similar restorative effect on his mind.

Right now, he was not a maddened mage with troubled thoughts and a penchant for violence. No, right now he was a man quickly falling under the spell of a beautiful woman who's lips and tongue sought his own with a ferocity that contrasted with her diminutive stature. It lit his skin alight every time she would press down harder upon his body, and her request that he inform her of any harm done was met with a smile and murmur.

"I will. I trust you."

Trust was not something that came easily to Orion. There were few if any who ever knew it from him. That she'd gained it as fast as she had said something about the way she'd stricken him. His body shifts underneath her, carefully and gently pulling her completely onto his lap to allow her to lay across his chest proper.

He hadn't felt so many of these impulses in so long, he hardly knew what to do with himself. The things his body wished to do were that of a man in much better condition than he, but he needed something. He craved her, and he did not wish to go unsated.

His breath came in a sigh as she brushed his hair, her lips gentle on his cheek. Himself? That story was long, and it was more than likely it would sour the mood they'd begun to set, but... "I was a teacher. I instructed young eager minds on the use of magic that alters perception and minds, one of three Headmasters of the Trastus Academy for Magic." He found he couldn't refuse her when she asked him in that voice. "Before that I was born to slaves, taken in by their Master and raised as his son to make up for his... lack of ability. I hated that lifestyle, seeing those people suffer... I left Cerak At'thul as soon as I was able..." As he spoke, his hands roamed, sliding down her back and across her hips. He wished to memorize every inch.

Palmyra Creze
 
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Palmyra was slid over his body effortlessly, he had mover her with ease despite his arm. At least he was moving... quite well. She couldn't help but blush as she found herself in the predicament of straddling her patient. Their bodies moved in harmony; as if they'd been doing it their whole lives.

He trusted her. It caused a smile to dance across the lips that were pressed against his own, she didn't know why but those words meant the world to her. Be it carnal desire or her position as his caregiver she hadn't a clue, nor did she wish to dig deeper.

Palm had a sweet smile plastered across her face as he spoke, "Makes sense as to your speech." she told him a little dazed from their encounter. "You're an educated man." she confirmed her earlier suspicion. As he spoke more of his former profession she grew more impressed, he was of a high educational stature. It was lovely. He was born to slaves, yet the master as he called him took him in. Her hand stroked his face, "So this...master" she cringed at the very word and its meaning, a person who owned others, "he treated you well?" Palmyra asked concerned. She didn't wish Orion to have a horrid life, she found herself caring for him deeply.

Orion was a good man as so proven by his care for the human life. A deep blush rose into her cheeks as his hands wandered, no man had touched her in such a.. careful way. "I grew up, alone. In the top apartment of a tavern. My parents placed me there, locking me in every night like an animal. When I grew to be big enough I was their barmaid, for free naturally. I was seven serving the most decrepit of men but that is what you do for family, no? Or so I thought at least..." she inhaled. "When I was sixteen they sold me to a wealthy lord that was passing through. I had served him and he thought I was an exotic prize as most men did, yet the price was right for my parents. I was whisked away the next morning to his slave run keep to be his most glorified slave. His lady lotus. All I ever wanted was to help people, share the light. Yet being on the run has proven that most difficult, he'll find me again. He always does." She poured out. It dampered their mood she felt yet it made her feel closer to Orion in a way. Not many knew of her past, a way she preferred to keep it.

Her eyes met his own and she smiled a bittersweet smile, before planting a tender kiss on his lips, one the parallel to the ferocity of the kisses she'd planted on his lips moments before. "Are you hungry?" she asked him. He hadn't eaten in days, he had to be a little hungry.


Orion
 
The movement of her body as it slid slowly along his own would have looked relatively mild to anybody else, but between the two of them it was abundantly clear that the way her smaller form shifted atop him that it was done with the utmost intimacy in mind. He was wounded, and she could not bring herself to compromise his own safety in pursuit of anything more physical than this, these soft caresses and gentle kisses. He understood, and even as she asked him more of those little curiosities, taking her time in exploring him in both body and mind, he found her efforts to restrain herself from her more baser urges to be quite admirable and endearing.

"I was treated adequately, though I was deprived of knowing my true parents. For while they lived in squalor and filth, I was raised as a member of my Master's family, as his own son." The last name of Carrux was indeed not his birthname. He relaxed, letting his head rest against the pillows as he continued. "I did not wish to grow up to be a slaver myself. In my studies, my aptitude for magic began to show through above any other skill, and in time I left to attend the academy I would eventually help oversee."

For the time being, he chose to leave out the eventual fate that place would suffer because of his own foolishness. It was a morbid tale, and one that would only serve to ruin the mood the two of them had built. Instead, he merely closes his eyes, mulling on the memories he recalled as he tilted his face into her touch, a soft smile playing at his lips. Her own story, told to him in soft silken tone between feather light kisses against his face and lips, was one of tragedy and misfortune. His hands ceased their wandering as she spoke, not wishing to strain her restraint while she recounted such a horrid tale.

Horrid was the perfect word for it, but she remained.

"Despite all of that hardship, you persist in your pursuit of freedom, of happiness..." He would gaze up at her, the soft red hue on her cheeks so telling of the validity of her emotions, so alluring in how pure and yet ferocious her spirit truly was. "Your strength is... incredible." He said in barely a whisper.

Then, the moment appeared to pass. She drew back a bit, bidding their brief bout of passion farewell with that soft, bittersweet kiss upon her lips as she asked him of his hunger. Oh, he'd just found himself quite hungry all of a sudden, but the time to sate that hunger would come later. It was best he eat.

"I should make some attempt to eat, I suppose. I do hate to make you get up though. I've been enjoying your 'bedside manner' quite a bit..."

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Palmyra nodded, "It is good -- that you were treated well. Also good you did not wish to be a slaver." Her voice was genuine as she spoke, as it often was. Palm didn't know how she'd react if the man she'd just done all this with had been the type of man who wished to inflict pain on others. Maybe throw up?

"So you rose from the bottom to the top." she affirmed with him. "Is admirable." she winced at her statement a little. With time her common tongue had gotten better but there was still moments like that where she slipped up. Palm didn't wish to sound like a cretin so she cleared her throat. "My apologies; that is admirable." Palmyra said a little frustrated with herself as she corrected her grammatical mistake She had watched as his head fell back onto his pillows while he recounted his story. He seemed so peaceful, so angelic in a way.

Palmyra had to look away at his praise, it was something she was not used to. Not many praised her in her life in such real ways. The raven-haired girl had no clue how to take such compliments. She managed to choke out a mumbled "Thank you." she hoped she didn't sound rude but that was all she could think to say.

Palmyra blushed at Orion's little naughty quip she patted his chest gently, before she started to speak once again. "Your health is my top priority." Palm said with a sly smile before she hopped off of him surprisingly elegantly to make her way to the tents sad excuse of a stove. It was a dated appliance but it still got the job done, which was all she needed. Palmyra lit a match and threw it into the belly of the stove and with a clunk noise from where Palm kneed an ages old dent smoke rose from the stack and exited the tent through a hole in the top. It was a finicky process at the start but her and her stove had grown quite familiar over their time spent together so she made it work.

She reached for her bread loaf and a couple eggs the farmer had dropped off a day or two ago as thanks for Palmyra assisting in the birthing of his son. She plopped a couple thick slices of bread into the pan that seemed to permanently live on the stovetop, as the bread chunks fried or toasted she threw the eggs in with a sizzling noise. It wasn't a fancy breakfast by any means but it had everything a person needed, carbs and protein plus she'd make Orion choke down some fruit; for good measure.

Orion
 
Orion didn't know how admirable it was to do as he'd done. He knew quite well that his adoptive father was a terrible man, and yet he did not turn down his attempts to raise Orion. There was no valor in allowing his true parents to live as slaves while he did not, standing idly by while his 'father' expanded his detestable empire throughout the Black Bay. There was no honor in leaving the Black Bay, making no attempt to liberate his slaves. He'd been a coward. He'd ran away.

He hadn't paid any notice to her lapse in grammar; he'd taught all kinds at the height of his career, some of them unable to even read or write. It was not knowledge that mattered to him when he instructed young minds, it was talent. The ability to learn was far more important than any knowledge currently held. "I have never considered myself an admirable fellow, Palmyra. I have done terrible things to people who cared dearly for me in my past. I have betrayed the trust of many and made people suffer for no good reason." There was no self-pity from the man. He lay there in the bed she provided him and stated these things as though they were indisputable fact.

As she wandered over to the small cooking apparatus to assumedly prepare him a meal, he used his good arm to turn onto his side, eyes opening slightly to watch her as she lights the fire and knocked the old device around a little to sway it to cooperation. Yes... she was right. A momentary burst of lust had clouded his vision, leading him to very much desire her right as she'd laid atop him. Truly, he needed to control himself. "I'd say you ensured my heart was still working, with how you pressed against me just a moment ago." He offered in a teasing remark. "Palmyra... I'm not a good man. You'd do wise to weigh your options more seriously before involving yourself with me in an... intimate... capacity."

He left his warning at that, enjoying the smells of his meal as she prepared it. He rarely ate full meals, perhaps accounting for how thin he was. Right now though, he found himself salivating.

Palmyra Creze
 
She shook her head back and forth, in a disagreeing motion as he claimed to be a terrible man. "Not from the things I've seen." He was a good man, deep down. If he went the wrong ways he had the tendencies to be a bad man, but the tendrils that danced around his head; a visual display of his brokenness were good. Like shards of a vase that once was, that could be fixed if re-kilned. He'd tell her more one day, but she'd seen horrors herself. Done horrors. She let out a shudder as she thought back to her time in the orc camp. It was valuable to her magiks but Goddess above it tore her apart. It was just a sign that everyone was capable of evils; what mattered was whether or not one pursued them.

Palm blushed at his dirty comment before stammering out an answer "Y-you're lucky you're bedridden or I'd smack you for such comments." Her tone was joking of course, but she didn't know how to responded to being embarrassed like this, there'd never been a man to comment on her... pressing...before. Once again he spoke again of how he was bad. She exhaled through her nose, "What if I don't want what's.." she turned to face him before making air quotes with her fingers in a sassy way "..'good' for me?" Palm countered with a cocked eyebrow. "Besides..." she started softly "... I haven't any of the options you speak of. You're the first male...I've ever let myself lose my head too." Palm was abashed to admit such a fact of course it was so evident as to the expression on her face. She turned back to her breakfast on the stove, she really needed to learn to cook more dishes than just some egg on a toast.

Within a couple moments one plate was ready and she brought it over to him; helping to sit him up against the headboard of her bed. She planted a tender kiss on his lips before speaking in her normal demure tone "Would you like some fruit?"

Orion
 
(My sincere apologies for the delay!)

Orion often pondered if such a thing were possible; could he, who had lost pieces of his mind to magic growing beyond his control, somehow find those peices? Was it possible to salvage what remained of him? To piece together some semblance of what he once was? In truth, it seemed little more than a pipedream to the man, but Palmyra's confidence in him -- the way she spoke so highly of him without even knowing the extent of his story... it did offer him some sliver of hope. If this strange, lovely woman who had come from nowhere could believe in him, she was either a fool, or she saw something that his maddened eyes could not. Only a week earlier he had sought death, and today he had very nearly just bedded his first partner in years. What on earth had happened in that short time?

There was no time to be baffled. Her concern was well-placed; He was wounded and needed a level of rest. Although, he did feel perhaps she was a bit too worried about his physical health. It was only a shoulder wound after all. Ah, no reason to complain. When he was healed though, he would need to make some important decisions. He'd already decided that this girl was not to be left to flee for the rest of her life, but the logistics of protecting her were another matter altogether. Would she be willing to travel with him? What of his condition? He'd likely only grow worse with time. He doubted any healing would mend that...

Such thoughts were broken by her arguments against his warnings. He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at her defiant rebuttal. It was true that he had little place to tell her how to feel and what to want. He could only shrug in response. Her admission that he was the first to bring her to the state she'd very nearly fallen into with him though, that was instead greeted with a small smile and the shake of his head. "Well... should fate lead us to lose our heads once more when you are less concerned with my health, I will endeavor to not make you regret it..."

He was capable of sitting up on his own, but he allowed her to help to put her own mind at ease. Her lips met his, a surprising but not unwelcome gesture. "You don't do this for all the men you save, do you?" He teased, shaking his head as he scooped a bite of the food into his mouth. It was well prepared, given the condition of the tent's cookware. He could definitely recommend her some seasoning... "Fruit might be nice, but do not spare too much on me, Palmyra."

Palmyra Creze
 
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