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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Apr 17, 2010 22:28:09 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Apr 17, 2010 22:28:09 GMT -5
{So here's the dealeo: I have, for a little while now, wanted to write out some of the more important events in Kvothe's life, and earlier today, when I didn't have anything else to do, I decided to actually start on it. Of course, wasn't quite sure where to put it, so I figgered I'd stick 'em in here, since they are all things that have, obviously happened in the past. I'll add more to it as I go. They're for my own sh*ts and giggles, really. Feel free to ignore, or even comment, if you feel so inclined :3} The night air of Aiaru stirred, bringing a wind down out of the small ring of mountains that stood, tall and unyielding, over the plains of Eostre. Down, the wind blew, bringing a refreshing coolness from the snow covered peaks down into the humid warmth of the summer night. Of course, were one to ride on the wind, they might notice the single tower, surrounded by an array of smaller buildings, that rose gracefully out of the grassy plains leading into the pass through the ring mountains. Perhaps the curiosity of the wind rider might be piqued, and they would be attracted to the building, with its tall, curving grace that made it both beautiful and imposing at once. And so our traveler might depart from the breeze that's carrying them, and ride their own current over to the Tower--which, happens to be the name of the structure, given by inhabitant and visitor alike. What might they see as they approached? Well, perhaps a light on in a room here or there, or figures walking around the grounds alone or in groups. They might see the guards that stood at various places, still as statues, but ready to strike at moment's notice. Of course, as they drew nearer, they might wonder what the interior of this magnificent structure might be like. After all, if it's anything like the exterior, then it must truly me a sight to behold? So it might be then that they'd notice a lone room, about halfway up the Tower, with a window that's open just wide enough for the wind to slip through. Why not go see what's in there? So they'd go in, slipping through with the silence that only the wind can have, and they'd see the area they arrived in was a personal quarters. They'd notice that they'd come into a bedroom, no less, with a doorway that lead to some central area. Perhaps it was part of some sort of suite. But before they could move deeper to investigate their new surroundings, they'd see that they were not alone. No, they'd notice a man on the bed. They'd see that, despite the relative coolness of the room, the sheets would be on the floor, as if they were tossed down, and they'd see the sweat that glistened on his bare torso. They'd note that his breaths came hard and ragged, and they would see the way his messy auburn hair clung to his forehead, which was as slick with sweat as the rest of him. The dark green tattoos on his face might mark him as a member of some kind of group. The scars on his back, side, and face, along with the well defined muscles of his upper body and rough, calloused hands, might mark him as a warrior. "Ah, he's sleeping", they might note, though his sleep obviously was not an easy one. But what could be plaguing this man so? What dreams might be bringing him such torment, causing him to toss so fitfully in his bed? That's something that could only be answered by looking within. So, let us assume for a moment that our rider of the wind also has the capacity to look into the minds of others. Let us then see what they might see if they looked into this man's dreams. ------------------------------------------------------------- 3613 BBY Bylgia The sun was setting over Bylgia, the main city on that sat on the southern shores of the Idzumo Lake. Two friends, Understudies in the order of the Stellar Mythics sat out alone on a pier that jutted out into the lake, which was more a freshwater sea than a lake, really. They'd both been alive for twenty years now, and they'd been close friends for a respectable chunk of those years .One was a Selonian, coated with dark brown fur except for on his stomach, which was a creamy white in color. The other was a Rilan--a near human species--who looked to be human at first glance; one with hazel eyes, fairly well tanned skin, and messy auburn hair. "I just don't think this is a good idea, Kvothe," Fides said as he looked out onto the placid waters of Idzumo lake. The Selonian tapped his claws pensively on the shaft of his wooden staff, which had a sort of simple beauty to it. "It reeks of a trap. There's no way your brother would let his location out--and to you, of all people--if he didn't have some plan in mind. He's not stupid." Fides turned to look at Kvothe with those burnished yellow eyes of his. "You know that." Kvothe met his friend's stare for a moment before turning away to look out onto the lake himself. "I know, Fides," he said, running a hand through his auburn hair, "but we've got to do something. No one's seen Vorian in over a year, and now the chance to bring him in has been dropped into our laps. We can't just let it go." Kvothe turned his hazel eyes to meet Fides' yellow. "I can't let this chance go. He's my brother. I should be the one to bring him in." " You cannot beat Vorian, Kvothe, and you know it," Fides said pointedly. He winced from the sudden pained look that crossed Kvothe's face and he sighed. Perhaps he'd been a bit too sharp in saying that. "Look, what I mean, wa-" "No, you're right." Kvothe made himself smile, though he knew how forced it must have looked. Fides was blunt, and often the voice of reason to counterbalance Kvothe's tendency to act rashly. Kvothe appreciated Fides for that, and it was for that reason that he considered Fides to be his closest friend. Though the Selonian's last words stung, Kvothe knew there was truth to them, even if that truth was not one he enjoyed acknowledging. "I can't beat Vorian yet. Not by myself, anyway." His expression suddenly grew hopeful as he looked up at Fas. "But if both of us confront him-" "Kvothe, we should just take the information we've gathered back to the Tower. Then a group that's more apt for handling this situation can be sent out. Maybe some Swords or something like that." Kvothe shook his head, "Vorian could be gone by the time we get back and they go through all the trouble of picking someone to send. If we're going to get him, we need to do it now." Fides sighed, letting a bit of his frustration show in it. "Kvothe, think for a moment. What if we get out there, and there's a whole group of people from the Unum? Who's to say this isn't part of some larger trap? There's no reason Vorian would have to be out there in the Culsu swamp by himself." Kvothe knew Fides' words had some wisdom t them, he would not let this opportunity go by. "Well, we'll never know if we don't try, right? What if he is by himself? Surely if we both go, we can take him." Fides started to speak again, but Kvothe cut him off. "Okay, fine. Look, you go back to the Tower and get some people to come out to the swamp with us. I'll go after Vorian." "What good would that do, Kvothe? We've already established that you cannot take him on alone, which exactly what might end up happening if we split up." Fides looked irritatedly at Kvothe and shook his head. "Come on. You're smarter than that. And if he defeats you, what's to stop him from killing you? Didn't he already come very close to that when you two had it out in your suite?" Silence took Kvothe as the memories of the fight in their room flashed through his mind again. Vorian had tried to recruit Kvothe into the Unum, the group that was rising up to fight against the Mythics. Kvothe had been livid, and attacked his brother. A short fight ensued, before Vorian slammed Kvothe into a wall with nearly enough force to knock him out, and had been preparing to skewer Kvothe with his own staff when their father made his timely arrival. If Father hadn't made it in when he did... Kvothe still shuddered to think of what might have happened. "Perhaps you're right, Fides," he finally admitted with a tired sigh. He glanced upwards as a flock of birds came in from the lake, their calls echoing out over the surface of the still waters. "But I have to do this. Not just because he's my brother, but because it's my duty." Kvothe pushed himself to his feet and placed a hand on the railing on the side of the pier. "We'll both be done with our training in about a year. I'll be a Battle Mythic in full then. It'll be my duty to fight for and to protect the Order. And you already know that I'm going to ask to join the Swords." He turned around to look his friend, who'd also risen to stand on his feet. "Then all I'll do will be work like this. If I can't do it now, because it might be dangerous, what right will I have to do it later on? Vorian isn't the only person among the Unum who's stronger than I am. My duty is my duty, and I'll see it through to the end." He paused for a moment and his voice grew a bit quieter. "Whatever that end might be." Fides sighed again. "I swear you're the most stubborn person I've ever known sometimes, Kvothe. Fine. If you won't listen to reason, then go. But I'm going with you. I'm not letting you run off to your death because you've gotten your head filled with all these stupid ideals." Kvothe smiled at Fides. "Look, I appreciate what you're doing, Fides. I know you're looking out for me. Probably more than I'm looking out for me. But I'm sure that Vorian can't take both of us. He's good yeah, but he's not that good." Kvothe clasped a hand on to Fides' shoulder encouragingly. "We can do this." Fides was silent for a long while as he stared out at the day's last light disappearing over the water to the west. His whiskers twitched lightly as his gaze grew distant, no doubt lost in thought. Finally though, after a few minutes, he turned his head to look at his friend out of a lone eye and spoke. "I hope you're right, Kvothe."
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Apr 19, 2010 1:06:25 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Apr 19, 2010 1:06:25 GMT -5
3613 BBY The Culsu Swamp "We're almost there, boys. It's just over this rise." Fides glanced at Kvothe when their assailant-turned-guide spoke up, and Kvothe could still see the apprehension in his friend's eyes. He didn't blame Fides. The other Understudy had continued to push against coming out into the swamp, even after he'd agreed to accompany Kvothe on the trip to get his brother. When they'd arrived, Fides had settled with muttering about walking into an obvious trap, but he'd held true to his word and stuck with Kvothe. The man leading them was rough shaven, with a square jaw and deep-set eyes that added to his general air of thugishness. Of course, that is precisely what he was: a hired hand. He wasn't a very good one, mind you, and Kvothe and Fides had dealt with him quite handily, but Kvothe was starting to believe, as Fides had long been saying, that the man's only real purpose was to lure them out to Vorian. It was too late to turn back now, though. "I can't believe I let you talk me in to this," Fides muttered, just loudly enough for Kvothe to hear. Kvothe thought to say something for a moment, but decided against it and continued on in silence. The trio came to the top of a small hill a few moments later, and Kvothe saw that they'd reached their destinations. Ruins stretched out before them, though nature had long since reclaimed the land that civilization had attempted to claim for itself. Now all that remained was stone, and it was covered in vines and the roots of the trees that rose out of it. There was a sort of beauty to the place, and any other time, Kvothe might have taken a few moments to simply stare in wonder. But the lone man standing in front of the old structure ripped his attention away. It was Vorian. His brother was a good deal different than the way Kvothe remembered him. Of course, he was still an inch or two taller and still had a slightly more muscular build than Kvothe. And he still kept most of his jet black hair tied back in a ponytail, leaving only a few wild bangs free in front of his forehead. He still stood with that same air of cocky assurance, and wore that same arrogant smirk that he'd had back in the Tower. But he was different. It was hard for Kvothe to put his finger on what exactly was so different about Vorian now, but it was there. Perhaps it was his attire; black robes and pants with red accents here and there, with odd sleeves that left his shoulders bare. And on each shoulder was a tattoo of a circle, the exterior of which was split into three parts, with an interior of flowing pieces that fit together. Kvothe could only guess Vorian might have gotten those upon joining the Unum. Or, perhaps the difference lay in Vorian's very presence in the Mythos, which had a sort of darkness to it that Kvothe had never noticed before. Whatever it may have been, it suddenly made the Understudy uneasy. Vorian, though, for all of the attention he was receiving from his brother, didn't even seem to notice that Kvothe and Fides had arrived. Instead, his focused on the man that lead them there. The man started to talk, going on about how he'd done as Vorian instructed in bringing Kvothe and Fides to him. Vorian didn't pay him much mind as he walked to him though. When he was within reach, he laid a hand on the man's shoulder, which brought the incessant babbling to halt. Kvothe and Fides looked at each other for a moment as an uneasy silence settled over the area. Suddenly, Vorian's hand went from the man's shoulder to his neck, and he pulled him forward onto a dagger that flourished into his free hand, seemingly from nowhere. The man died with a muffled groan, and Vorian released him to crumple to the ground. He wiped the man's blood off on him and sheathed the dagger back into its place at his hip. It was then that Vorian finally turned his attention to Kvothe. His dark brown eyes met Kvothe's hazel ones for a moment as a satisfied grin spread across his face. "It's been a while, Kvothe," he said. "I trust these past two years have treated you well?" Vorian started to pace slowly from side to side, and Kvothe got a glimpse of the sheath of a sword that hung from his brother's waist. "It's good to see that you're still as much of a headstrong idiot that you always were, Kvothe. After all, none of us expected that it would be so simple to pull you in." He paused for a moment and his smile grew mocking before he continued. "But you proved us wrong. And you brought Fides with you! Two catches when we only put out the effort to catch one of you! How... fortuitous." Kvothe's eyes were starting shift from their natural hazel to a take on a wary orange, though there were hints of gold within them. "Why do you want me, Vorian? Why go through all the trouble of luring me out here to get me to join this group of yours when you already tried that two years ago?" "There are those higher up than me that want you, dear Kvothe," Vorian said, as if explaining it to an imbecile. He suddenly came to a halt and lightly rested his hand his sword's pommel and snorted. "So here's the question: will you join us?" "You shouldn't even have to ask," Kvothe spat hotly. "You already know what the answer is." "Yes, we'd thought you might say something like that." Vorian sighed heavily, and a feigned note of disappointment came into his voice. "Unfortunately, you don't have a choice in the matter, Kvothe. If you will not come willingly, then you will be taken." "No, Vorian," Fides said, stepping forward, " you will be the one who is taken. You will be taken back to the Tower, where you'll answer for your crime of betrayal." Vorian barked a laugh at that. "You're welcome to join the Unum as well, Fides." He suddnely drew his sword, and pointed the slender blade at the Selonian. "But know this: you are expendable. Kvothe's the one we're after." "I'm not going with you, Vorian." Kvothe's irises were now gold all the way through, and his resolve showed through in his voice. His grip on his staff tightened as adrenaline started to ease into his system for the fight that he knew was only a few moments away. "Then I guess we'll have to do this the hard way, won't we, Kvothe," Vorian asked, and he was suddenly in motion. Kvothe met him head on, and the fight was on. From the beginning, it was clear who had the upper hand. It wasn't Kvothe. Each of the brothers knew the way the other fought quite well, due to extensive sparring time in the Tower, but Kvothe was caught off guard when Vorian's attacks began. In the same way that Vorian himself was a bit different, in ways that were hard to place, so too was his fighting style. It was a bit easier to see the changes though. Vorian's attacks were more graceful now, flowing nearly seamlessly from one motion to the next. And, more than anything else, he was much faster now. Vorian had always been agile; it was, perhaps, one of his greatest advantages over Kvothe, but the difference now astounded Kvothe as he struggled to keep his brother's strikes at bay. He'd have to do something to throw Vorian off, and soon. Onward they fought, and Vorian slowly but steadily pushed Kvothe back. His blade whipped out, quick as a serpent's strike, at Kvothe's head. Kvothe ducked, dodging the strike so narrowly that he felt the air displaced by Vorian's blade tickle at the back of his head. Of course, perhaps ducking wasn't the best idea, because Vorian's knee slammed into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs and striking with enough force to make Kvothe's vision go out of focus for a moment. Vorian's hand extended, and Kvothe was suddenly airborne on a wave of telekinetic energy, send him sailing back through the air to slam into a tree and slump down to the ground. "You're still nothing, Kvothe," Vorian said quietly, that arrogant smirk still on his face. "You could avoid this, you know. But no, your pride won't let you, will it? You just can't accept the fact that you're second rate, can you?" "Shut up, Vorian." Kvothe pushed himself to his feet slowly, using the tree to support himself. His movements were slow and his breathing hard, and the pain that was radiating throughout his body was quite clear in his voice, but he didn't care. Eyes that were a mixture of gold and red looked up to meet Vorian's which were a mix of green and gold. "I don't care about that damn rivalry with you. Right now I just care about doing what needs to be done." Vorian's smirk deepened. "You lie, Kvothe. I know it. You know it. But if you want to delude yourself, far be it from me to stop you." He adjusted his grip on his sword's hilt, and the battle resumed. Fides' mind raced as he watched the two brothers go at it. Why, oh why had he caved and allowed Kvothe to come out here to face his brother? He winced as he witnessed every blow Vorian delivered, saw every time his blade bit into Kvothe's flesh, heard every pained grunt or cry from his friend as Vorian's assault continued along without any sign of letting up. But what could Fides do? His strengths were in the areas of healing, protection, and sense, none of which would be that helpful to Kvothe at the moment. He could jump in and engage Vorian in melee combat, but that was an area that he knew he couldn't stand up to the older Rilan in. Perhaps if Vorian didn't have that sword, since Fides' claws provided quite an advantage in unarmed combat, but if they went up against each other with weapons, Fides knew that he would surely lose. He'd have to think of something, though, and fast. Another one of Vorian's strikes broke through Kvothe's defenses, and he winced from the pain of his brother's sword biting into his right shoulder. Vorian's blade curved through the air, arching high to come down at Kvothe's left side. Kvothe, thinking quickly, spun to the right, narrowly avoiding the strike even as he felt it catch on the fabric of his robe. As he came 'round, he saw an opportunity present himself, since Vorian was still recovering from the follow-through his strike. Kvothe struck out with the Mythos, making a powerful blast of the holy energies slam into Vorian's side and send him sailing through the air. Vorian landed unceremoniously a few feet away, and Kvothe lashed out again, hurling an old, rotting chunk of wood toward his brother. Vorian rolled out of the way and to his feet, and Kvothe snarled as he prepared to resume the fight once more. But Fides was on Vorian this time. The Selonian's staff was a blur as he searched for a way around Vorian's blade, but he could not, as he'd feared. The rhythmic thunking of their weapons slamming together filled the air for a moment before, to Fides' surprise, Kvothe jumped in. The two worked in tandem then, trying to keep Vorian off balance, and for a few moments, the tide suddenly shifted heavily into their favor. Vorian, however, would have none of it. He kicked Kvothe in the chest, which made Kvothe stumble back, and turned his attention to Fides. A feint, deftly carried out, was all he needed to trick the Selonian and send his blade digging into the layers of muscle that made up Fides' side. As Fides recoiled from the pain of the blow, Vorian slammed him back with Mythos, and Fides went flying through the air to crash roughly into the trunk of some very old tree. Kvothe was back on Vorian by the time that exchange was over, and he found that his brother had either been holding back a few moments ago or was pushing himself harder to end the fight before Fides could reenter it, because his attacks were brutal now. More of them slipped through, and Kovthe found himself getting punched or kicked more, or having the steel of Vorian's blade--which was slick with blood--dig into him. He knew he was losing, and he didn't know what to do about it. He couldn't give up, but if he kept fighting on, what would happen to him? Vorian answered the question for him. Another blast of Mythos sent the younger brother to the ground. Hard. Kvothe's staff fell from his hands and his vision spun. Before he knew what was happening, he felt bonds of Mythos closing in around him, forcing his legs together and his arms to his side. Pale yellow shot through his irises as he suddenly realized what was going on: Vorian had trapped him, and unless he or Fides could find some way to break his brother's bonds, there was no way he'd be able to move, much less help in the fight. That wasn't good. At all. It was around this time that Fides finally made it back to his feet. A quick self-examination of the cut in his side told him that, though it was extraordinarily painful, it was within his capacity to heal. Not that he could do that with Vorian standing not ten feet away from him. A quick glance down at Kvothe told the Selonian that the Rilan had been taken out of the fight. So he was stuck fighting Vorian. One on one. His whiskers twitched irritably. Splendid. "I warned you once already, Fides," Vorian said calmly, though Fides noted he was starting to breath heavy, "you're expendable. Stand down, or I will kill you." Fides studied Vorian silently for a moment. How did things get to this point? He was one of us not too long ago... What did they do to mold him to their will like this? "I think we both know it's too late for that, Vorian. Now, if you don't mind, let's do what must be done and get this out of the way. I tire of this swamp, and you have a cell in the Tower waiting for you. Vorian snorted roughly. "Arrogant fool," he muttered, and slowly started moving in toward Fides so that the fight could resume once more.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Apr 19, 2010 17:27:54 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Apr 19, 2010 17:27:54 GMT -5
Fides didn't have any intention of letting Vorian close in, and lashed out at him with what limited telekinetic skill he had. The first attack caught Vorian of guard, and nearly knocked him to the ground. He responded with a blast of energy, and thin blue streaks of lightning flew from his fingers, surging forward at Fides.
For once, it was Fides' turn to smirk, as a shield of Mythos materialized in front of him. Vorian's lightning slammed into it, and a loud crack! rang out through the swamp, but the defense held strong. A few stray sparks lingered on over Fides' shield before it faded away, and he launched out with another Mythos attack. Vorian was ready this time, though, and he negated the attack before immediately countering with another blast of lightning. Fides answered with a shield again, and an apparent stalemate was reached. The exchange played out a few more times, with both combatants nearly constantly on the move as Fides worked to stay a safe distance away from Vorian. Suddenly, though, Vorian lunged forward, using the Mythos to quicken his movements, and forced Fides into melee combat. Fides, fortunately, was a quicker and more agile than Kvothe, and he worked feverishly with his staff to keep Vorian's sword away from him.
Vorian, on the other hand, could feel the burn of exertion starting to creep into his muscles, and he knew he'd have to end the fight quickly, lest he start to tire and his advantage slip. He adjusted his grip on his sword slightly as he fought, switching to a hold that better allowed for powerful strikes, and attacked. His blade slammed into Fides' staff and sent the weapon out wide, giving him the opportunity he'd been hoping for. A quick blast of energy sent the weapon spinning out of the Selonian's hands, and he almost laughed when he heard Fides curse under his breath.
The game then turned into one of Fides dodging Vorian's strikes as best he could, though it was far from easy. A new assortment of cuts and gashes adorned his body after a while, and his fur was wet with blood in some places. Still he fought on, knowing that if he failed, both he and Kvothe were doomed. Vorian tried to hit him again with lighting, but Fides was ready, and a small shield of Mythos kept that attack at bay. He saw an opening when Vorian finished his blast, and lashed out with his claws, hoping that they'd find flesh. His hope was answered. Razor-sharp claws dug into Vorian's chest, and relief flooded Fides when Vorian made some loud noise, which seemed to be half angry roar, half pained scream.
But, pleasant as it was to get a good, solid hit in on Vorian, it looked as though Fides' strike only served to make him angrier, and he attacked with a renewed vigor. Kvothe watched in horror as his brother's counterstroke dug into Fides' side again. The Selonian flinched from the pain, and in that moment, everything came grounding to a halt. Fides' reaction, natural though it was, gave Vorian all the time he needed to take control and end the struggle.
He spun deftly around Fides, and before either Fides or Kvothe fully knew what was going on, Vorian was behind Fides, and his blade struck out. The darkened steel broke through the flesh of Fides' back, and Vorian pushed it in, forcing it up and out with such force that the tip burst forth from Fides' chest with a terrible spray of red. NO! Kvothe screamed within his mind as his eyes went wide in shock.
Fides gasped in surprise, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence amongst the ruins, save Fides' suddenly very pained breathing.
Vorian took Fides' right shoulder with his free hand and forced the blade in deeper, until the guard was pressed against his flesh and Fides' warm blood was spilling out onto his hand. "I told you," he said quietly as he leaned in to talk into Fides' ear, "that you were expendable." The blade twisted, and Fides cried out. "I gave you a chance to avoid this." Again, the blade twisted. "But you would not take it. So now, Fides Mor Di'ar, you will die." His boot was suddenly on Fides' back, and with a brutal push, the Selonian was forced off of his sword and onto the ground.
Kvothe could only stare in horror as Vorian (calmly!) went about wiping Fides' blood off onto his fur before sheathing his sword, leaving Fides--who was laying in a slowly expanding pool of his own blood--to die, if he wasn't dead already. "I can't believe you," he hissed as Vorian came to a halt near him. The vitriol, the venom, the pure hatred in his voice was of the likes that Kvothe'd never produced before, and he might have been surprised by it had he not been so consumed in his anger. Red filled his irises, with streaks of black forming as he spoke. "How could you do that, Vorian?! He was one of us! you've known him nearly as long as I have! What the hell makes you think you can just off a friend like that?!"
Vorian, for his part, ignored Kvothe's rantings, and instead moved to stand near his brother's legs. The Mythos flew into him once more, going into the muscles of his legs to strengthen them. A quick, powerful stomp brought Kvothe's enraged words to a halt as the bone shattered. Kvothe was silent for a moment before a scream that sounded more animal than human tore from his throat.
"We're taking a trip, Kvothe," Vorian said. His brother thrashed about--or would be thrashing about, if he weren't contained as he was. "You could have avoided this as well. I gave both of you opportunities, and you cast them aside. You were warned."
"I hate you," Kvothe manged through the near-blinding pain.
Vorian only snorted a soft laugh. "I'm sure you do."
Kvothe felt a surge of fear run through him as he was suddenly hoisted upright on a current of air. The next thing he felt was a hard blow slamming into his neck, and the world went black.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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May 15, 2010 2:42:01 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on May 15, 2010 2:42:01 GMT -5
3607 BBY The Aethon Desert The Aethon Desert. Helios was beginning its climb down the Aiari sky, which was, save for a few wispy clouds, clear. Who would want to live in a place like this,Kvothe wondered to himself as he climbed off of his swoop bike before shaking some looses sand from his rust-red hair. It was hot, needless to say, and the land stretched on, lifeless and barren, as far his he could see. A few lonely rock formations that the sand, carried by wind, had carved out stood nearby, and made his way to stand in the shadow of one to escape the sun's glare. Everything had started some time ago when he'd followed a member of the Unum out into the desert. The chase had started in Mithras, a seaside town on the edge of the Aethon Desert, and they'd pushed in fairly far into the desert. To his shame, Kvothe had lost track of the man he was chasing, but he'd found something much better in return. Vorian was here. His older brother was ahead, through the rocks. Waiting for him. Part of Kvothe was burning with an excited sort of anger. Burning at the thought of finally being able to make his brother pay for all of the hardships he'd caused throughout their lives. But another part--the more sensible part--was feeling entirely different. There was a part of Kvothe that was afraid. He would not turn back; he'd never run away from a fight with his brother, and he doubted that Vorian would allow him to escape this encounter. The fear was still there, though, and with good cause. Vorian was powerful, and very good at what he did. Kvothe had to admit it, much as he might not have wanted to. He was a prodigy, really, the kind of burning star that comes perhaps once a generation. How fortunate for me that I'm his brother, then, Kvothe thought dryly as he jumped down over the edge of a small ledge that'd been worn into the rock by the wind. It was with reason that he'd never defeated his brother. He could only hope today would be different, else he might not escape the Aethon alive. Whatever was coming would be difficult, though. Very difficult. But one didn't need to see the brilliant gold of Kvothe's eyes or the stubborn set of his jaw to know his determination. Were one to look at him, it'd be nearly palpable, as he made his way off to fight what would, so far, be the most important battle of his life. A few minutes of walking through the dry rocky maze that had once been a riverbed led Kvothe out to the sands once more, on the edge of the Aethon's heart. From there, great oceans of sand stretched on near indefinitely, patrolled by Fates, the giant, angry gods of the desert. And there, within a somewhat semicircular ring of stones, stood Vorian. He was as Kvothe remembered him: tall and lean with a lithely muscular build, in those black and red robes with the odd sleeves that left his shoulders bare, revealing the tattoo's of the Unum's symbol that was inked in black on both of them. Vorian stood with his arms crossed, and the only weapons he had on him was the sleek sword that rested on his hip, with a dagger sitting opposite that. His eyes, like Kvothe's were gold, nearly shining with their brilliance, though there were touches of green mixed in, from some form of amusement, no doubt. His jet black hair, which was held back in a ponytail that left a few bangs free around his face, stirred gently as a wind came in from the sands, carrying with it the dry heat from the bowels of the desert. "Lost your nerve?" Kvothe blinked, and realized he hadn't stepped out toward his brother; he'd come to a halt as soon as he saw him. "You can't chase me all the way out here to get cold feet like that, Ishar." Vorian laughed softly when Kvothe scowled and moved to stand before him. As he moved, Kvothe's thoughts lingered on the last word Vorian spoke. Ishar. It was his true name. Kvothe was not his real name, just a name used for day-to-day use, and Vorian was the only one still alive that knew his true name. Ever since joining the Unum, Vorian had developed the habit of calling Kvothe Ishar, though only when they were alone. It was an odd thing. Kvothe knew Vorian's as well--Typhos--but he'd never called him by it. "Looks like you're a hard one to kill, eh? And here we all were, thinking that you'd died back in the Culsu Swamp three years ago..." Kvothe remembered that time, and he scowled at the memory of it. "You're a damn liar, Vorian, just like you always were. You knew I was still alive." He started to pace slowly to the side, a movement that was mirrored by Vorian so that they ended up slowly walking in a circle around each other."I'm here to stop you. You and the rest of those Unum filth are enemies of the Tower, and after the things you've done, you can't be forgiven." Vorian rolled his eyes, which were shifting to an amused green. "'Unum filth,' eh? Do you always have to be so serious, Ishar?" It was a question, though his tone indicated what he thought of that. "You can't possibly think you can stop all of us on your own; not even you are that stupid." That arrogant smirk that irritated Kvothe so was suddenly back on Vorian's face as he paused and met Kvothe's eyes with his own. "And really, you know how fights between us have gone in the past, Ishar. Or need I remind you the events in the Culsu swamp?" Kvothe grunted softly to himself as his fists clenched in anger. "Don't think you'll keep getting away with all the things you've done, Vorian," he said with a dangerous edge to his voice. "Especially your murder of Fides." The gold in his eyes was becoming more and more orange, and some red was starting to creep in around the edges as his voice grew harder. "You will pay for lying to everyone in the Tower, and betraying those who taught you everything you knew." A derisive chuckle came from Vorian's throat at that. "Yes, I'd thought it would come down to something like that." His hands brushed against the hilt of his sword and he suddenly became a bit more serious. "So be it, then. But are you so set on this? Not once have you ever bested me in combat, Ishar. This will be a fight you have no hope of winning." "I it has been three years since we last fought, Vorian," Kvothe said. "I am now a Battle Mythic in full, and will soon be a Swor-" "Yes, that's all very nice," Vorian cut in. "But I did not stop learning things and advancing these past three years." His smile returned, though it did not touch his eyes, which were cold and hard, and gold once more. "I'm willing to bet that I've become stronger with the Unum than I would have with the Mythics in the same time period." Kvothe snorted as he regarded Vorian, and the same irritation that had come so often to him when they had sparred in the Tower returned.. "You can't assume that you will always beat me, Vorian. It's only a matter of time until you lose." Vorian only shook his head. "You always were a stubborn fool, Ishar. How long have we fought each other? Years, even when we just sparred back in the Tower. And how many times have you beaten me?" He raised an eyebrow, though neither he nor Kvothe needed to answer the question. "As far as you're concerned, I may as well be invincible. There's too much of a difference in ability for you to have any hope of beating me today, Ishar." He laughed softly at Kvothe's scowl. "Enough of that, though. It's obviously been a while since I've been to the Tower, so tell me this, Ishar: how is Father doing these days?" A spark of rage flashed through Kvothe at that, and he'd had enough. Suddenly he was in motion, lunging toward Vorian to deliver a hard punch to his brother's face. A punch that, to his surprise, landed. He immediately followed up with another blow to Vorian's stomach, which also connected, before blowing his brother back with a blast of ventakinesis. Vorian flew back, and landed in a three-pronged crouch with an arm down in between his legs for balance. Kvothe was on him immediately, throwing more punches at his brother's face before striking out with his staff in a blow that had the potential to crack Vorian's temple. Vorian caught the staff with his hand almost casually. Kvothe was so surprised that his grip faltered and Vorian was able to wrench his weapon free and toss it down onto the sandy ground. Kvothe was too stunned to do anything for a moment, and launched out with another punch that slammed into Vorian's mouth, splitting his brother's lip. Again, Kvothe followed with another, but this attack was also caught by his brother. Kvothe's eyes widened in surprise as the realization that his brother had been letting him hit him dawned. That smirk proceeded to grow on Vorian's face until it was a full smile, and a mocking one at that. Kvothe pressed harder against his brother's hand, but Vorian was too strong, and he couldn't do anything. Vorian chuckled lowly as he licked the blood that was spreading from the split in his lip before spitting into Kvothe's face. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to live through the day, Ishar," he taunted before a wave of telekinetic energy exploded out from him, sending Kvothe flying back to slam into the side of the rock formation that rose up from the ground. "And I thought," Vorian continued on as he drew his blade from its sheath, "that you might actually be a challenge this time." He shrugged dismissively as Kvothe came to stand on his feet once more. "Oh well. It'll be business as usual then." Kvothe wiped away the blood-smeared spit that was running down his face before drawing his own blade. It took all that he had not to grimace at the pain that was spreading across his back; that blast that threw him back had been a strong one, and slamming into the rock had been quite painful. But what could he say, to Vorian? No, he hadn't put everything he could do out there yet, not by a long shot, but it had been foolish of him not to realize that Vorian was toying with him. Foolishness in a battle with his brother would get him killed. Instead of making some lame retort, he remained silent, keeping his golden eyes on Vorian. Vorian took a few steps closer and came to a stop not far from Kvothe and snorted. "I could end you in a single stroke if I wished, Ishar," he muttered quietly. Kvothe's irritation at Vorian's obvious arrogance must have shown in his expression, because Vorian smiled dangerously. "You don't believe me, do you? Let me show you." Kvothe didn't plan on letting that happen. He launched out with a blast of Mythos, sending a powerful telekinetic wave at Vorian. Vorian answered with his own, and when the two canceled out, he dashed forward, lunging at Kvothe with his sword. Kvothe readied to defend himself. Then Vorian did it. He time stepped. The feeling of cold steel against his neck made Kvothe's thought crash to a halt. His eyes suddenly went the pale yellow of horror, as he stared into the face of his brother, who was, once again, smirking. How? How had Vorian learned that ability? The young Rilan looked down, and his terror jumped when he saw Vorian's blade there, resting on his skin; it had hit with just enough force to barely break the skin, and a thin trickle of blood ran down onto its length. "Do you see now?" Vorian said quietly as Kvothe looked for words to say. Vorian snorted and suddenly grabbed Kvothe by the throat and slammed him onto the ground before sticking the point of his sword under Kvothe's chin with just enough force to break the skin. "But don't worry, Ishar. If I'm going to kill you, I'm going to have some fun before I do it." Kvothe scrambled to roll out of the way as a blast of lightning erupted from Vorian's fingers. He reached out with Mythos energy, kicking up the sand around him to try and hide himself as he regained his composure. I can't let him get in my head. I always do a lot worse against him when he does that... and I can't afford that here. He reached out to the sand that hung in the air now, forming it into two thin tendrils that he struck out with, aiming them at Vorian's eyes. But Vorian knocked them back with his own skill, and they splintered and fell to the ground, leaving no more than a faint trail of dust to hint at their existence. Then he was moving toward Kvothe again, and his blade lashed out, thirsty for more of Kvothe's blood. Kvothe intercepted the strike with his blade, turning it aside before throwing a hard punch to the side of Vorian's face. His brother ducked under it, and threw his own punch at Kvothe's stomach. It connected, and Kvothe's grip on his blade faltered from the surprise--and pain--of the blow. Failing here would mean his death though, so he fought on. He reached out to the Mythos once more, and a wind arose as he willed it, blasting forth from his hand at Vorian with enough force to throw him to the ground. That attack was successful, and Kvothe lunged at Vorian, knowing he'd have to press whatever advantage he could get over his older brother if he was going to make it out of this alive. He cut down in with a powerful vertical strike, but Vorian caught it, and swept out at Kvothe's leg with his foot, sending the red-haired Mythic down to the ground. A scramble on the ground ensued as they both struggled to get a better position than the other. It ended with Kvothe nicking Vorian's leg after he took a cut to the arm, before they both retreated from each other and rolled back to their feet. Vorian launched a wave of the small rocks on the ground at Kvothe, who defended himself by summoning a wind that knocked them off course. Then it was Kvothe who lunged at Vorian again, and their blades danced between them before Vorian once again cut Kvothe, hitting him on the shoulder this time. Kvothe retorted with a knee to Vorian's stomach before lightning from Vorian slammed into him and threw him back. The two brothers fought onwards like this, each one constantly trying to turn the other's stroke aside and launching out with counterstrokes of their own. Their fight grew more intense as it dragged on, and was punctuated with strong attacks from either party with Mythos energy. For once, Kvothe had a chance to hold his own against Vorian. Pushing himself so hard over the past few years had reaped rewards, and now they were being made evident. But still, the balance of power was still in Vorian's favor, if only just barely. Kvothe was starting to tire. All of him ached and he had taken quite a few bruises and cuts from Vorian's onslaught. Of course, Vorian had not gone untouched--far from it--but Kvothe's ability to keep up with Vorian was starting to falter. And as the fight went on, and as this realization dawned on him, his determination started to give way to fear. If he lost here, he was done. Vorian would kill him, there could be no doubt of that. Vorian suddenly spun around to the side and lashed out at Kvothe. A line of fire erupted across the middle of his back as Vorian's blade bit into it, and he as he stumbled, his blade came free from his grip. NO! Desperately, he reached out to hit, wrapping a coil of air around it to call it back. But Vorian was too fast. Another fire cut across his side as Vorian's blade bit into his flesh once more, and his cry of pain was met with laughter from his brother. "Is that the best you've got, Ishar?" Kvothe found himself being propelled by a telekinetic blast into the rock formation once again. The air in his lungs was sharply thrown out of him on impact, and he almost collapsed onto the ground. Almost. But Vorian was there, and held him up against the rock wall. "You're kind of pathetic, really." Never mind that Vorian had his fair share of cuts and bruises, but Kvothe didn't have time to respond before Vorian's fist slammed into his stomach, and he bent over on himself in pain. But Vorian straightened him up, and another blow fell; a punch to the face that slammed his head into the rock and set stars dancing across his vision. Vorian proceeded to lay into Kvothe, raining blow after punishing blow down onto his younger brother. Kvothe tried to defend himself, but his efforts were in vain. He cried out at the sharp pain of a rib cracking from one particularly hard blow, and his will finally broke. "Vorian, please," he muttered weakly as his brother's onslaught continued, "stop." His brother paused for a moment before shaking his head ruefully and grabbing Kvothe by the throat again and throwing him down away from the rock. "You knew it would end like this," Vorian said around his heavy breaths. "But you still fought. Why? Why do you fight when you know you can't win, Ishar?" Kvothe struggled weakly to push himself to his feet and locked eyes with Vorian. He could feel the warmth of blood spreading as it ran down out of the wounds in his side and back, and he was in more pain that he'd been in since being tortured during his captivity, but he stood firm. It wasn't a facade he'd be able to hold for long though. "I fight because I have a duty to my order to do so," he said, though his voice wavered. "But you wouldn't know about that, would you, traitor?" For some reason that he did not know, his knees suddenly gave out and he started to fall where he stood. But Vorian was there, and grabbed Kvothe by the front of his robe as he started to fall , and Kvothe found himself staring once more into his brother's face. "I told you, Ishar," Vorian said as he pulled a short dagger from his belt. "But you didn't listen, did you? Too late now." Kvothe's eyes went the palest yellow they'd ever gone as he watched--in what almost felt like slow motion--Vorian's dagger close in on the cut in Kvothe's side that his sword had made. An instant later, it pierced into him, and Kvothe felt a pain unlike any other he'd ever felt before, and let a scream of agony out to match it. "You could have prevented this," Vorian said. "If you'd joined us, then none of this would have to happen." He ripped the dagger out of Kvothe's side, and his voice took on an angry note. "But no, you were too concerned about that damn order to see the sense in it. Well, where are they now, Ishar?!" He struck out one final time on that last sentence, cutting Kvothe across his face with the dagger as he released his hold his robes. Kvothe fell to the ground on his back, and screamed again when Vorian's boot impacted into his side with a great deal of force. It was over now. He'd lost. Vorian would surely kill him, and he couldn't do anything more than brace for it. But Vorian instead went about picking up his sword and wiping the blood off on Kvothe's robes. He sheathed it and stood over Kvothe, frowning. "What a shame, that my brother would have to end up like this." He shook his head. "I tried to stop this. This was your doing, and yours alone, Ishar." He spat on Kvothe's face, and with that, he turned and started to walk off, much to Kvothe's surprise. "Wa... wait," Kvothe called weakly. "Do... don't just..." It felt like there was a fire burning across his face, and he grimaced as blood ran into one of his eyes. "Please... don't le... leave me here..." Vorian turned his head only enough to see Kvothe out of his eye and grunted. "Is this all that there is to you, Ishar?" Vorian's contempt was plain in his voice. "Made no more than some sniveling child, begging for me to kill him?" Vorian turned to face Kvothe, and his eyes, turned orange as his face contorted in a scowl. "You're pathetic, Ishar. You aren't worth the effort. Fate will sort you out." And then he continued on. For a few minutes that felt like hours, Kvothe laid there, fighting not to slip into unconsciousness as his blood leaked out to pool beneath him. If he did that, it was over. Oh, but he hurt so much! And why would Vorian just leave him there? Was it a final mockery, to give him a slow death, rather than a quick one? And then he heard it: that unmistakable roar, off in the distance, like the coming of an angry god. He turned his head slightly, and there it was. A Fate. One of the sandstorms of legend that could rip a man to shreds in a heartbeat. It was massive, stretching out as far as he could see, and it reached at least a mile into the blue sky. The thing moved slowly, but that belied the danger that it brought. Kvothe turned over onto his side and pushed himself to his feet. He never noticed how dizzy he felt... He looked back and felt a pang of fear shoot through him. The Fate was closer, and everything grew darker as it started to pass in front of the sun. Come on, Kvothe, he thought weakly, you can do this... He stopped after a single wavering step as his vision suddenly snapped out of and back into focus. Perhaps he'd lost just a bit too much blood... But if I stay here, I'll die. A dry wind, pushed out by the sand storm, ruffled his hair, and he looked back again to see the monstrous thing had gotten closer. He forced himself onward, but it was too much for him to take. After two more unsure steps, he collapsed to the ground again, and knew that he was finished. The pain was too much, and the loss of blood had left him too weak to go on. "Fate will sort you out."So it would. And in the end, it seemed to Kvothe that fate would judge him unworthy. But he'd done the best he could. He'd fought Vorian with everything he had. It just hadn't been enough. So now, he turned over on his side to stare at the wall of sand that was no more than a hundred paces away from him. Already, sand was being blown out in front of it, and the sound was almost unbearable. But if this was to be his fate, then he'd accept it.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Feb 6, 2011 0:24:15 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Feb 6, 2011 0:24:15 GMT -5
3614 BBY The Tower Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock... All was quiet in the Algaterra suite, save the steady tick-tocking of the timepiece that hung on the wall. Kvothe glanced over to it. It was an old thing, round and with hands that moved around it as the day progressed. Some might even call it an antique. His father had discovered it at some sale a wealthy old gentleman held a few years back in Roua. If the story Uriel told were to be believed, the old man had given it to him for free on learning he was from the Tower. Kvothe would never understand why someone would want to give away such an old, ornate clock, but who was he to judge? Aiaru was filled with eccentric people, after all. "Where could he be?" "Hm?" Kvothe looked over to Uriel. His father, who was normally as placid as the Atea's waters in spring, was visibly bothered by something. Uriel's rusty auburn hair was uncharacteristically unruly, his vest and shirtsleeves looked disheveled. Even his presence in the Mythos was disturbed. "Oh," Kvothe muttered, looking back up to the clock. He didn't need his father to answer to tell him what the problem was. Simply looking at the clock did that well enough. Uriel picked his head up and looked up from staring at the table to staring at Kvothe. His gaze was distant. Lost. Veins of yellow snaked throughout his eyes, which were the same vibrant hazel as Kvothe's. He was worried. Very worried. "Vorian should be back by now," Uriel said, straightening himself somewhat and craning his neck back to look at the clock. "He said he intended to be back nearly three hours ago." He stood up and strolled across the sitting room to look out one of the windows. It was summer now. The days were long, and the light stretched on far longer than it would in the other seasons. Now even the last light of the day was starting to fail. And Vorian had been nowhere to be seen. Kvothe turned slightly in his chair, looking over to where his father stood, hands clasped behind his back. "Well, I'm sure he's okay. Maybe something happened to his speeder and he had to stop until he can get it repaired." "Then we should have been able to reach him." Uriel turned his head enough to see Kvothe from the corner of an eye. "But every time we've tried, it's failed. Even if the speeder's gone bad, he should still have his comm on him, and he knows well enough to answer it." Shaking his head, Uriel turned away from the window and started to pace. That in and of itself was uncommon, and usually reserved for when the old Mythic was stressed. Kvothe could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen his father start pacing. Truth be told, Kvothe felt some of the worry as well. It was a truth that Vorian and he were on rocky terms, to say the least; their relationship as brothers--one that had never been as benevolent as some others'--had been deteriorating, over the last two years especially. They'd clashed with words and with fists, in private and in public. It was hardly a secret to the others in the Tower. But even so, Vorian was his brother. Kvothe may not have been overly fond of him, but he was family, and so he worried. Hopefully he's alright. Watching his father pace about the floor wasn't very reassuring, though. Especially if the rumors are true.Rumors had been spreading lately of the resurgence of an old resistance against the Mythics. They called themselves the Unum or something like that. Kvothe hadn't paid too much attention to them; he was more concerned about finishing his training and his ever-ongoing chase to catch up with Vorian. Besides, they were just some fringe group, right? Nothing could really come from them. And kidnapping Mythics, like the rumors said they did, would be foolhardy and a death wish. The Battle Mythics would deal with them, if the Swords themselves didn't. "So what are we going to do?" For a moment, there wasn't any answer. Just the steady sound of Uriel's boots on the floor and the ticking and tocking of the clock. "Well," Uriel said, sighing and stopping at once, "if much more time passes without getting any word from him, we'll get a few others to go with us to Demas. See what we can find." He stepped forward to lean his weight on the back of one of the old wooden chairs. "Hopefully we'll find him." ----------------------------------------------------------------- Blood fell to the ground. He was aware of the feeling of being dragged by the arms. Where am I being taken? A single eye with irises that were a sickly-looking blend of blue and grey and yellow looked up, through disheveled black hair. It was late, almost night. Two others were dragging him along somewhere, but he didn't know where. He hurt too much to want to look up to see who they were. Something told him he wouldn't recognize them even if he did. "Jeez, he's heavier than he looks," a distinctly male voice griped. "Stop whining. We're almost there anyway." It was another voice. Also male. There was something warm running down his face. Something wet. It fell to the end of his nose and pooled there for a moment, before falling free to the ground. It was red. Blood?Why was he bleeding? His mind searched for answers in memories, but they were hazy, as if viewed through a smoky window. He'd been going about finishing his business and preparing to go back to the Tower when he felt something hit his neck and then some group attacked him. The rest was fuzzy, but he could recall some terrible pain from a blow to his head before blacking out. "Ah, there's the ride," the first voice said. "About damn time. I ain't doin' dragging duty next time." The other one snorted. "You will if you're told to. Now come on, help me get him up." He heard a door open and felt himself being lifted. The movement aggravated other injuries and he groaned softly. "Ah, look, he's awake," said the first again. "Thought he'd be out for a while, with that hit he took." A stolen glance showed the man the voice belonged to. Looked to be short. Pudgy. Balding, and with multiple chins. Then he was shuffled around and the man passed from view. "Good for him," he other finished as he pushed his legs into the speeder. "Won't help him." The door slammed shut. The two captors got into the front of the speeder. "Have a good look, Mythic," the second man said, turning to look into the back. His face was pale and bony. "It's the last you'll see of this place for a long time." The speeder started to move. It went up into the air and then began to zoom away from Demas. "Might be the last you ever see of it, dependin' on how stubborn you are." The fat one was speaking. "Course, they all start out stubborn at first. But don't worry, they'll get you nice and broken. Hope they do for your sake. Once they run out of patience they'll just off ya." "Nah," the skinny one cut in, "I don't think they'll get rid of this one so quick. Saine was after him specifically." "Ooooh yeah, forgot about that. Wonder what she's got in store for him." "Can't say. Whatever it is, boyo," he looked into the back again, "you're life's fixin' to change." -------------------------------- "Vorian!" The call echoed through the streets of Demas. Inhabitants of the great city cast intrigued looks to the small group of Mythics that was spreading out, searching for one of their own. "Voooriaaaan!" No answer came. Night had fallen a while ago. The skies were dark, but Demas was a city that never slept. Streetlights kept most of the main concourses well lit, and the array of lights on buildings, ranging from the lit up window of some room in an office complex where someone was working late to the vibrant neon signs over nightclubs, added their own flair to the aura around the city. People milled about in the street, going about their business. Finding a missing person in any of the great cities of Aiaru would be difficult enough. Finding a missing person in Demas, when they had no idea where he might be (or if he was even in Demas) was a task that was knocking on impossible. "Where could he have gone?" Uriel's frustration was getting evident. His normally friendly tone was gruff and irritated. Fear and worry rippled through his presence. Kvothe couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his father like this. They were at the edge of one of the many square scattered throughout Demas. A few people milled about them, but things were largely quiet where they stood. Kvothe pressed his hands onto the back of a bench, leaning his weight forward onto it. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I can't even feel him here. Maybe it's just all the other people, though." He looked to his father, hoping for some sign that what he'd suggested was a plausible answer. He knew it was, but at the same time, it wasn't. Or, rather, it shouldn't have been. Despite the number of people in the city, and despite his still-developing abilities in the Mythos, Kvothe had always had an easy time sensing his family if they were at least some degree of near to him. Were Vorian in the city, he should've at least been able to feel something, if no more than a very vague glimmer off in the distance. And even if I can't, father would surely be able to.Uriel stood there, his green overcoat hanging loosely about him as he rubbed the corners of his eyes with a hand, as if he had a headache. He was a tall man, at just a little over 6 foot 3. Vorian was a little shorter, having just broken 6 feet. Kvothe was the shortest of the three, closer to his mother's height than his father's. "I don't know Kvothe," he finally said. "I want to say that we should be able to feel him at least faintly, no matter the amount of people here, but," he sighed and came around to the other side of the bench, slumping tiredly into it, "I just don't know. We should've been able to get some idea as to where he's b-" "Uriel? Uriel, we found his speeder." Uriel sat bolt upright, digging in his pocket for the comm that so suddenly brought a glimmer of hope. "Where?" Kvothe watched his father as he quietly moved around to sit next to him on the bench. He noticed the hand that held the comm was trembling. "Where is it?" "On the southwest side of the river, near the outskirts of the city. His staff is here, but no other signs of him. Doesn't look like it's been moved or turned on in a while." Uriel swore in Rilan. "Is there nothing else? No other items, no messages, nothing?" There was an edge of franticness to his voice. That troubled Kvothe. "We're still searching it, Uriel, but as far as we can tell, no. Just the staff." "Why would he leave his staff in the speeder?" Kvothe wondered aloud. "He usually has it on him, like the rest of us." "I don't know," said Uriel, though his attention was obviously still on the comm. "Keep looking, then. Get back to me in a bit with the results." "Of course, Uriel. Will do. Juno still up?" "Yeah, she's still searching. I take it to mean she hasn't found anything yet." "Don't worry. We'll find him. Just need some patience." With a weary sigh, Uriel leaned back, stuff the comm back into his pocket. "I hope so. I really do." He titled his head back against the top of the bench to look up at the sky for a moment and closed his eyes. It was remarkable how quickly he'd deflated after finding the speeder didn't bring any good news. He looks so... Kvothe searched for a word. Defeated. Leaning over, he placed a comforting hand on Uriel's shoulder and forced himself to smile, despite the situation. "Don't worry, Dad. We'll find him. And besides, nothing could've happened to him. Vorian is... well..." Even though he wanted to help, the admission of a certain fact was still hard; it was one that had rankled Kvothe for a long while. "He's strong. He knows how to take care of himself." He chuckled then, and it wasn't completely forced. "I think I know that better than anyone." For a long, silent moment, Uriel gave no indication that he'd even heard Kvothe speaking. Then, finally, he opened his eyes and made a noise that sounded like some strange mix of a laugh and a chuckle. "Yes, Kvothe, he is. Strong and capable. Always has been, but," he straightened a bit, bringing his head up from resting on the back of the bench, "he is not invincible, something I think he tends to forget. But I haven't given up hope." Though he said the words, there didn't seem to be much heart in them. Just weariness. "Not yet." Neither have I, Kvothe answered silently, sighing and leaning back while propping his arms up on the back of the bench. His gaze floated across the square, taking in the people of Demas as they shuffled to and fro. Could it be true? Could any of them really work for Potissimus Egregius Unum? Surely not. Why someone would want to actively fight against the Tower was beyond comprehension for him, but it was possible. Could any of them have taken Vorian? No, no, he couldn't take that line of thought. Vorian was fine. He had to be. An owl screeched above. Kvothe and Uriel looked up as one, and Uriel held one of his arms out. Both of them were gloved, covered in a supple leather that went up his forearm. Not a moment after the arm was out, an owl alighted on it, making ruffling noises as it settled its wings. "Hey Juno," Kvothe said, almost as if talking to a companion. In a way, the Rouaun Owl was just that. She was a familiar, bonded to his father through the Mythos. Juno looked at him with her large brown eyes for a moment and then to Uriel. "Hey girl," Uriel said, sitting up. "You find anything?" He reached his free hand forward to touch her and closed his eyes. Kvothe knew what he was doing, but didn't know at the same time. He was talking to Juno or something; getting information from her, though the details of the way the method worked were fuzzy at best for Kvothe. The silence--a silence that got more and more tense with each passing moment--stretched on. Then Uriel's eyes opened. They were rimmed with blue and streaked with yellow. That's not good. Uriel's shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily, leaning his head back and closing his eyes again. Kvothe hesitated. "D... Dad?" "Nothing." Uriel's voice was somber, weighted. "She flew far and wide, but she didn't see anything." Kvothe sighed. Maybe it'd been too much to hope that Juno could find him, but it had been worth a shot. "We can still find him," he said, "we just have to keep looking." "Yeah. I know." Uriel didn't sound convinced.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Feb 15, 2011 21:37:37 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Feb 15, 2011 21:37:37 GMT -5
{Perspective switch: Vorian. Continuation of the events from the previous post}
Drip
His eyelids fluttered. They did not open, not yet. He could feel awareness starting to slip back to him. It came slowly, grudgingly, but it came. If Vorian's mind wasn't so foggy he might have questioned whether that was a good thing or not.
Every part of his body ached. Unhealed cuts and gashes in his flesh continued to pulse with an angry pain. The bruises, which he had plenty of, pulsed with a dull fire, especially where his back was pressed against some smooth, cold surface. All of his muscles, as powerful as they were, felt weak and watery. He wasn't sure if he could stand if left to do so on his own. His head felt as if it were filled with paste and there was a noticeable pricking feeling with each breath.
Drip
Memories started to come back to him. He remembered walking back to his speeder in Demas. He would have left long before then, but he remembered a final errand he had to run and had had to go back into the city to handle it. He'd felt them before they attacked, but they'd been hiding their presences. Waiting, watching from the shadows and only revealing themselves when it was too late.
Of course he'd fought back. Killed a few of them, even. Numbers, however, had been against him. And then there'd been that prick in his neck... All he could remember after it was everything going downhill and getting knocked out.
Drip
His eyes finally opened. The world around him was dark and hazy. He could make out vague shapes, but they were blurry and drifted and spun in ways that some part of his mind knew they shouldn't have been. He lifted his head up, craning it to try to look at his surroundings, but that only made the incessant throbbing worse.
So he put his head back down with a grunt and sighed. Pain burned through his chest when he sighed and his face contorted into a pained snarl.
Drip
Where am I? The spinning was slowly stopping, but the blurriness refused to leave him. Vorian squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. Nothing changed. He could tell the area was dim. A big grey squareish shape sat in one of the walls. A door, presumable. That was about all he could make out clearly.
The cool metal against his back and the slight feeling of the air moving against his chest told him that he'd been stripped to the waist. He didn't feel his boots on his feet either, and the pants he wore were loose and rough.
Drawing a breath for strength, he strained weakly to move. It proved to be impossible. Some kind of restraints were clamped down over each of his wrists and ankles, making any movement beyond a few inches an exercise in futility and frustration. Vorian bit back a sigh, remembering how painful the last one had been. There was no point in struggling. As weak as he was now it wouldn't matter; even if he was at full strength he couldn't have done it.
As his mind continued to slow clear, a realization began to dawn on the young Mythic.
He was a prisoner.
He was helpless.
Drip
Oh, he hated being helpless.
In a moment of desperation he reached out, clawing for the comforting presence of the Mythos. But he could not hold it. The fog of pain in his mind was making concentration hard. Again and again, Vorian scratched against the edge of the holy energies, and again and again it slipped away like water through his open fingers.
Drip
So that's it? He put his head down on the table beneath him and closed his eyes. Whatever was going on, he was trapped. Where?
Who took me? A spark of panic ran down his spine at the thought. Why did they attack me? He tried to press down the tide of fear that threatened to overwhelm him. What do they want with me?
Drip
Vorian nearly sighed again. There was nothing he could do. He just had to stay calm. Maybe if he kept his head clear--if it ever actually cleared out--he could find some way out of this mess.
Maybe.
For now all he could do was wait. Wait and hope.
------------------------------------------
"Oi! Look, 'e's awake!"
Vorian stirred groggily at the sound of a voice. It was impossible to tell how long he'd been trapped there against the table, drifting in and out of consciousness. He heard a switch flip as his eyes were opening. Light filled the room, light that was blinding and almost painful after spending so much time in the dark.
His vision was clearer now if still a bit more fuzzy than normal. He could at least see well enough to make out most everything when he wasn't squinting against the glaring brightness of the light. Two men were in the room with him now. One of them looked like the pudgy man that he could vaguely remember dragging him to their speeder in Demas. The other was a great broad-shouldered bear of a man. Vorian didn't recognize him.
Drip
"'ey! The damn sink's leakin' again! Thought they fixed it!" Vorian heard the sound of someone banging on metal and a bit of squeaking. Then a satisfied grunt and incoherent muttering.
He was laying flat on the surface of some table in the center of the room. The pudgy man was rifling through a cabinet and the big man stood near the door, watching Vorian with wary eyes. On closer inspection, Vorian noted that the big man's eyes were a pearly white. All of the flesh around his eyes was scarred and deformed from what looked like the damage left behind by a serious burn.
"I bet you're just wonderin' what's goin' on 'ere ain't ya?"
The sound of the pudgy fellow talking whipped Vor's attention back to him. He held a syringe in his hand and was filling it with some sort of clear blue liquid. What's that?
"Well, are ya? Talk boy, I know ya can."
Vorian watched the man and his syringe warily. He tried to speak, but his head was still throbbing and his lips were cracked painfully. His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. "Where..." He closed his eyes. He had to speak coherently. Come on, Vorian. You can do this. Be calm. He hoped they didn't notice his hands trembling. Or feel the fear that stirred within him as made evident by the yellow veins that snaked through his slate grey irises. "Who are you?" Good. He could still form sentences. "What's that?"
The fat man laughed. "Who I am ain't important to ya. Not yet anyway. Same goes for my big friend here." He titled his head toward the big man. A hint delight gleamed in his beady little eyes. It made Vorian nervous. "But as for who we are... Well, show 'im the tattoo."
Vorian heard a whirring noise and then the table he was on started to move. It began to slowly lift up and tilted until it held upright as if he were standing. The big man walked over to him; he seemed to know exactly where he was going despite being apparently blind. He pulled his dark blue sleeve up to the elbow, and inked into the inside of his forearm over veins and hard, corded muscle was a symbol.
The ink was black. The symbol was strange. Three lines curved around the outside of a circle. The circle itself was made of three curving main parts, each of which were broken into two smaller divisions. "You recognize this, boy?" The man's deep voice rumbled, and was rough and gravelly.
"I..." Why was it so hard to think? The symbol sparked a memory but the constant throbbing and pulsing of his head made bringing it up so much harder than it should have been. "I've seen it."
"See? I told you 'e'd recognize it." The fat man grinned. The grin was not a benevolent grin. "Wouldn't make no sense for the Mythics to keep all 'ere people in the dark."
The big man looked to his partner and snorted. "Potissimus Egregious Unum, boy. That's who we are."
Vorian's eyes widened in shock. "What? You're... nothing more than rumors... A fringe group."
"Is that so, Vorian Algaterra?"
The new voice was the voice of a woman. Vorian turned his head to the door, and there she stood. She was an Arkanian woman, tall and willowy. Her figure was draped in lowing, flowing white and blue robes. Her skin was pale and milky and she had eyes that were as white as snow with pointed ears that poked up through her hair. It was difficult to pin an age to her. She was older than he, that much he could tell. There was a serene, elegant sense of power and experience that rested around her. Who is this woman?
"Don't look so surprised, child," the woman said. Her voice was melodious, almost hypnotic. "Move aside, you two. Let me see him." Both fat man and large man moved aside as the woman commanded. She walked with flowing, graceful steps to stand before Vorian, hands resting on her hips. While she had no pupils to follow, Vorian knew he was being inspected. It was a degrading thought, being strung up to be inspected like some horse.
She looked at him, reached out to touch him, moved him slightly and even seemed amused as he tried to hold down winces and grunts from the pain of his body's protests. Finally, when she was satisfied with her brief inspection, she backed a few steps away. Her lips spread into a knowing smile. "You are as I believed you would be, Vorian. Strong of body. Strong of mind, even if you can't feel it now. Quite the catch. The only thing that remains to be seen is if you are as powerful as we believe you to be." She chuckled softly in her throat, leaning back against the counter behind her. "And if you can be made as powerful as I intend to make you."
Vorian's head was swimming in a sea of confusion. "Who are you? How do you know anything about me? Ho-"
"We know more than you might think, Vorian." The Arkanian woman seemed so very amused by it all. "Vorian Algaterra. Son of Uriel and Etain Algaterra, and elder brother to Kvothe Algaterra." Vorian felt his jaw going slack. "You have quite the rivalry with your younger brother, as I understand it. Rather one-sided, I do believe."
"How do you know that?" Vorian could not contain the little spikes of fear that continued to stab through his being. "About my family, and my business with my brother?"
The woman simply chuckled again. "You would be surprised at the things we know, dear. Do you believe the Mythics are the only ones that are so heavily vested in information and its trade? Hm?" She just stayed where she was, leaning against the counter with her arms folded under her breasts and smirking at him as if she knew some dirty little secret.
With the way things were currently going, it wouldn't surprise Vorian if she did.
"No, child. The eyes and ears of the Unum are sharper than you know." She smiled sweetly at him. "But I can't go telling you all of our secrets. Not yet."
"What do you want with me?" Vorian croaked weakly. "Why me? Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"
The woman only shook her head slightly. "I already told you, child. We have uses for you. You can go far here. Farther than the Mythics would ever allow you to go."
Vorian narrowed his eyes. "What makes you think that?" He was powerful. He knew thatAnd he knew he'd only grow more powerful as he got older. Whispers--that he was not entirely unaware of--ran through the Mythics that one day he could go very high in their ranks. If this woman knew as much as she claimed, surely she was at least aware of that much.
"Do they not question you, young Vorian? Have they not begun to grow wary of you and your thirst for knowledge?" The woman's voice was not raised, but there was a steeliness to it that hadn't been there a few moments before. Vorian knew what she was talking about. He stared at her for a long moment and then finally, reluctantly, he nodded.
"They call it arrogance," she continued. "Recklessness. They say your ego has gotten too large for your own good." She smirked knowingly and stood up straight from the counter and came over to him until she stood only a pace in front of him. Her cold white eyes met his yellow-streaked grey and seemed to bore past them, down into the depths of his soul. "We will not hold you back, Vorian. You will have freedom with us."
"I will not," answered Vorian, clenching his jaw. "I don't care what you claim, there's nothing you can offer me that the Mythics cannot. I will not join you."
The woman smirked and turned away from him. "So be it. Fight us, we had expected as much. But I could not help but hope," she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, "that you, being the bright little prodigy that you are, might be able to see your situation and use some sense. But you may do as you wish, and if you wish to be stubborn and foolish, then that is your right." She turned around and made a gesture to the two other men in the room as she began to walk toward the door again. "However, you will join us, or you will die in this cell. You have no other options.
"And should you continue to insist that you will not join us willingly, then you will simply be broken." She made a motion to the two men. "These two will see to that." The door slid open before her, but she stopped there and seemed to consider something. She turned to face him. "Take care, young Vorian. Should you come to your senses, you need only send for me. My name is Saine."
With a swirl of her robes she turned from the room and was gone. The door closed behind her and that was that. Vorian glanced between the two men.
"Well, I thought 'e'd be a stubborn one." The fat man picked the syringe up eyed it appreciatively. "Good thing we know how to deal with his types, eh?"
"You won't do anything to me, fatass." Streaks of gold wove into Vorian's eyes. His lips twisted into a sneer and his fists clenched, even if his arms protested the action.
A desperate mental surge had him clawing at the Mythos, and to his great relief, he found it. All he had to do now was attack them before they cou-
One of the big man's massive fists slammed into Vorian's ribs. The Mythos slipped away from him as the air exploded from his lungs. He felt something crack. Vorian screamed a loud, wretched scream as he strained against his bindings.
"Oh yeah," said the fat man, "ya should probably not try to do that. My partner 'ere is real good at feelin' out those sort of things. So unless ya just wanna get hurt again..." Amusement twisted the man's face into a mockery of a smile as he watched Vorian gasp and struggle for breath, grunting as echoes of pain tore through his body. "Actually, hit him again. Let 'im get a taste of what 'e's in for 'til he comes around."
The big man cracked his knuckles. Vorian's head was slumped down against his chest but he forced it up to glare at his captors. He spat on the man.
The man grinned.
"Shouldn't'a done that," chimed the fat one.
"I don't care," Vorian answered hotly through gritted teeth. "You won't break me."
"We'll see." The big man's voice grated on Vorian's ears. He stepped to stand directly in front of the captured Mythic.
Then the beating began.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Mar 20, 2011 22:12:29 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Mar 20, 2011 22:12:29 GMT -5
It was funny, the way a person could change in the span of a few months. When he'd first been taken, Vorian fought back against his captors with all the strength he could muster. He fought and battled and clung for nearly two months. Once, he'd even broken free when one of the fools thought he was too weakened to be a threat. A broken nose and a few shattered ribs had shown the man how wrong he'd been. Even if the torture that followed his outburst had been the worst he'd been put through up to that point, the look of sheer terror on the man's face as Vorian's fury descended on him had made the whole thing worth it.
He'd endured all sorts of torment, but nothing had compared to the day they brought in the old man. He never did anything physically to Vorian, never so much as laid a single finger on him. Just stood there. But when he'd reached into Vorian's mind, the pain had been near unimaginable.
During those sessions, Vorian felt pain he'd never even dreamed of feeling, and hoped he'd never have to feel again. A chill ran down his spine even thinking about them. And the worst part of it was that it didn't leave any physical damage behind. All of the pain, but none of the damage. It was beyond hellish.
But even through those terrible times, he'd held on by his fingernails. The struggle wasn't about him fighting back because he was a Mythic; he'd stopped caring about that aspect a few days after it all began. No, he resisted because he would not be made to bow. He would not be broken, as Saine, the Arkanian woman, had put it at their first meeting. If things had continued on the way they had been going, Vorian knew he wouldn't be standing where he was. He'd still be back in that little room, getting tortured or wondering when the next round would come. If they hadn't just killed him.
Saine changed everything though.
She'd come alone to his cell one day. She even let him free from his bindings, to 'stand before me as a man,' as she put it. He very nearly attacked her as he did the other fool that let him out, but something stayed him. So he heard what she had to say.
Saine had informed him that she was a seer, prone to visions brought on by the Mythos, much as his mother had been. Then she played her ace.
She knew things that no one else should have known. She knew of the vision Etain had seen shortly before she passed, and she repeated his mother's words nearly verbatim. It had stunned Vorian to the core, as it might have with any person. It still made him very wary of the woman.
"Now do you see, young Vorian?" Saine's full lips were twisted into a mockery of a smile. "I told you I know more about you than you know, did I not?"
Vorian backed away a step. Yellow streaked his eyes. Shock and disbelief were etched across his face. He felt a knot growing in his throat and an even larger one forming in the pit of his stomach. "Why are you telling me this?"
"To illustrate a point. To finally make you realize why it is I sought you out." She stepped forward as Vorian backed up. The process continued until Vorian felt his back press against the wall. The damn woman noticed and smirked at him! "Though I will speak truly in saying that I didn't know you were the type of man to run away from confrontation."
Vorian's lips pulled back into a sneer. "What do you want me to do, then? Attack you?" Squaring his shoulders as if for a fight, he stepped to within a pace of her and glared down. Though Saine was not a short woman, Vorian was a tall man, and he nearly towered over her.
"No," she said flatly, calmly. "I want you listen to what I have to tell you, child. Do you understand why I told you about my knowledge of your mother's vision?" The pause she gave was more rhetorical than for an actual answer. "Of course you don't. Answer me this, Vorian, and speak truly: how do you feel about your brother? Hm?"
Kvothe? Vorian's brow knitted. "He is my brother. I've always viewed him as such, even if he doesn't like me."
"So you hold no hard feelings toward him?" A single snowy eyebrow on Saine's brow lifted. "No resentment, no anger, nothing?"
Vorian licked his lips warily and shook his head. "Not... exactly, no." Why was he telling her this? Was it because she already knew so much? "I know he's obsessed with becoming stronger with me, and I always try to make sure that doesn't happen. It's a matter of pride, but he's still my brother. It only keeps pushing him to get stronger. And if he doesn't like me," he shrugged slightly, "well so be it. I can't say I've got a super-high opinion of him, but he is my brother. I always remember that."
Saine smiled and chuckled softly. "How noble of you." She turned from him, walking toward the door with her hands clasped behind her back, spindly fingers interlaced. "So, tell me, if I gave you a way to avoid your mother's prophecy, would you take it?"
"What?" Vorian tried to keep himself from sounding too interested, but it was hard.
Again Saine chuckled. "You heard me right, child." She turned around again halfway across the room and looked at him. He wasn't sure if he could ever could used to those milky pupil-less eyes. "We both know that, unless some miracle befalls him, young Kvothe will not slay you. Not in a fair fight. So if the chance came to save him, would you take it?"
"I... I might," Vorian answered cautiously. "What are you offering me?"
"Join us," she said simply. "Join us and recruit your little brother to us, and you can avoid this fate. I have foreseen it."
"And why should I trust you?" Vorian shot back, clenching his fists. "For all I know, you could've made this up. Anyone could've done that if they knew what you do."
"Use your senses, child. Search me. Tell me that I am lying to you."
He blinked at her voice. She sounded more annoyed than anything. Annoyed that he doubted her? Regardless, he reached out to her through the Mythos, though his hold on it was tenuous. The amount of Etherium concentrate that had been pumped into his system was leading to several difficulties. But he could reach out now, and he did just that. Not surprisingly, Saine had opened herself up, allowing him to feel her intentions.
"Say it," he commanded, watching her through narrowed eyes.
"I have foreseen that if you join us, Vorian Algaterra, and your brother, Kvothe Algaterra does as well, that you will be able to avoid the fate foretold by your mother."
He felt no intent to mislead, no malice. Only... sincerity. Could she really be telling the truth?
"Your face tells a story, child," Saine said quietly. "You know the truth of my words now. How will you respond to them?"
That was what led to where he was today. The past month had been a period of recovery, after he'd given his allegiance to the Unum. They'd healed his injuries, and nursed him back to health. Just the day before he'd taken their marking; a tattoo of the three-part circle had been inked into his muscular shoulders. The robes he'd been given left his shoulders bare and the tattoo visible for all the world to see.
Two great doors eased apart before him as he approached them. Saine's waiting room was within. She'd summoned him for something, though she hadn't given him any details on why or what for. It wasn't like it mattered; he couldn't exactly tell the woman no.
Saine was waiting for him within, seated in a deep old leather chair with cushions aplenty. She sat with one leg crossed over the other and held an old book in one of her pale hands. The walls of the room were stacked high with books and scrolls and the lighting was comfortable.
Vorian stopped near the door, waiting for the woman to acknowledge his arrival. For a long while she didn't, simply content to continue reading her book. Vorian simply waited, trying to keep a mask of only mild interest as he looked about the place.
"It's funny, isn't it?" She spoke as she slipped a little page marker between the yellowed pages of her old book and closed it. It looked like it was a thin piece of bone. "Anywhere else in the Galaxy, such a collection of books and scrolls would be a rare thing, something worth mentioning, but on Aiaru? They're everywhere."
She finally turned her attention to him, looking up from her seat with those milky eyes of hers. "But I didn't call you here to listen to my musings about such things did I? You were punctual in getting here. Early, even." Her lips curved up in a little smile. "That is good, Vorian. You'll learn I have little patience for sloth among my ranks."
Unsure of what to say, Vorian simply nodded.
Saine looked amused. "Is my mere presence all that it takes to make the prodigy too nervous to speak?"
"I..." Vorian started, feeling embarrassment heat his cheeks slightly. His eyes would be shading a dusky maroon to echo the feeling, no doubt."I haven't had anything to say." Mythos, why was this woman making him act like some bumbling fool? He might not have been anyone among the Unum in terms of rank, but he knew who he was. Come on Vor, act like you're worth something.
He squared his shoulders a bit and stood more are ease, meeting the woman's eyes steadily. Even after all these months, the sight of those milky things still weirded him out a bit. "I'm just awaiting my orders. Or whatever it is you have for me."
Saine chuckled. Placing the book on the small reading table next to her chair, she stood and walked over to Vorian. Though he towered over her and had a much larger frame, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was the one looking down on him. She stood there for a few long moments before she finally turned and strode over to one of the bookshelves on the far side of the room.
"There is a special thing I have in mind for you, Vorian." Saine's skirts swished gently as she walked along. "We do keep a fair few number of operatives in the Tower, as I believe you already know. Within the next few weeks, we will preparing you to do the same."
"An... operative in the Tower?" Vorian blinked at the woman. This wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Are you sure?"
"I never believed you to be one that doubted himself," said Saine, as she idly fingered over a few volumes of some ancient-looking leatherbound text."Perhaps we should put you to more mundane tasks, if you feel you are not up to it."
"No no, it's just that I wasn't expecting something like that." Veins of icy blue snuck through his stony grey eyes. "What would you have me do?"
"Kvothe," she said simply. "Go back and convince him to come to us. And if you cannot," she turned around to face him, "you will deal with him."
Vorian felt his stomach clench into a knot. He'd known that was coming, right? She had told him of her vision concerning the two of them. But I didn't think... not so soon.
"Will you take this task, Vorian?"
Vorian was silent for a very long while.
"Yes." As he looked to her, gold flared through his irises. She was coming to understand him well enough to know what it meant; her smile told that much.
"Excellent, Vorian. You will meet with Feizin Adryl, one of our trainers for tasks as this, at dawn tomorrow. There are preparations to be made."
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