The First Whisper [OPEN]

[Sage]

Whatever glamour spell the fae had used, Sage was still trying to pick it apart from within. Cautiously watching and studying how his perception of the world was distorted and how it all seemed to lead back towards the fae who he was sure had cast it. Under a more controlled environment, Sage would have been all the more willing to volunteer his services to study the effects of such a spell.

He hoped to one day become more than proficient with magic so that he could learn or create his own spells. And knowing how the effects of Glamour spells worked from first-hand experience would certainly be invaluable. But here and now, the situation was less than ideal.

The effects of the allure lessoned a considerable degree when the two men had stormed into the tavern intent on making hell for the foreign dancer.

“Wait, a dancer, when did anyone start …?” Sage cursed the effects of the spell she had placed him under. He watched the growing commotion between the Dancer and the men in concern. As was everyone else in the tavern, he was ready to either retreat or to intervene if things went way too far. He was honestly routing for the woman to somehow gain the upper hand in the scuffle. But then it was over.

Almost as fast as it started the men were down on the ground, clutching at their family jewels in sheer agony that had every man watching wince in sympathy for their pain. Though not by the Dancer, Confusion swept across her face and the fae had been as indecisive as everyone else. “What just happened?”

“Odd” he mumbled with noncommitting shrug, he had not seen what had happened, but with the way those two men had shrivelled into themselves, he didn’t want to know. Still he sought out the fae once more, this time committing himself to find his answers and to ignore whatever passes that the drunken man by the bar was surely to pass his way. He didn’t think a Tavern brawl would stop him.

The allure was gone, he quickly noted the woman’s face had returned to its normal features again, Dark dusky skin with coal black hair. Nothing about it drew his attention to a single spot, and no longer was he feeling inclined to just follow like a helpless puppy either.

She sat heavily in the chair that the creature had been leading her towards looking rather pale. “Had something happened?” He wondered as he looked around, catching sight of naught but the troublemakers being hauled away and the regulars returned to their drinks like it was Tuesday.

No longer compelled, Sage felt as awkward as he should have felt when walking up to a woman as boldly as he had, he should have walked away, return to his room and forget the event had even happened. Should have, if something had not spooked the woman badly enough to upend the contents of her purse for drink. Instead of walking away Sage pulled a spare seat away from the table and briefly caught a glimpse at the other woman who had been the table’s sole occupant. She was a rather severe looking woman, scarred and hardened. Yet he got the distinct impression that as aloof as she seemingly appeared she was also about as adept at social interaction as he normally felt.

“Ah, Excuse me” He said, contemplating if he should wait for some sort of permission from the woman who was friends with the odd enthusiastic plant like creature in a dress, and what sort of dynamic that must make. “Is something wrong?” he asked the fae, his face contorting into one of concern “you look like you have seen a ghost”

[Capoeirista]

Alina scrambled to her feet as the screaming men dropped her. Dark eyes scanned the room in confusion, until they met a deep blue pair looking straight at her. The owner of the blue eyes gave a nod and a wink, and then returned to her drink.

Is this some brand of local magic? Was she the one to assist me?

The Fallieni dancer straightened her leather skirt and corset and wandered back to her table, where a half-full tankard of ale still waited. She glanced back at her maybe-savior. The woman did not look soft and pudgy like most of the well fed islanders. She looked hard and angular, almost like something made by cobbled together iron rails. Almost Fallieni, if not for the pale pallor of her skin.

Alina picked up her mug and took an emboldening sip of the lukewarm ale. It bubbled bitterly in her mouth and all the way down her throat to her belly. She wound her way across the crowded tavern, padding on soft-soled leather shoes. She ducked past reeling drunkards and detoured around tables filled with strange stout bearded beings she had never seen before. Soon she arrived at the table in the corner where four people sat. If they could all be rightly called people.

Her savior wore finely tailored black clothing and had dark enough hair to make the moonless night jealous. A creature composed of writhing vines, wearing a metal mask with holes for all four eyes, sat beside her. Next to them were the singer from earlier and a rather feminine looking boy. One chair remained empty.

Alina waited politely until after the server had departed the table and then stepped up to the empty space. A grateful smile blossomed on her face as she thought about what would have happened to her without the pale woman’s assistance. The Fallieni men would surely have tied her over the back of a horse, although the pain and discomfort of the long ride back to their camp would have been the least of her concerns. She’d have been made to toil at hard labor for months, most likely, or possibly even sent back to her homeland in shame.

The thought did not deserve the instant she gave it. She was free for the moment, free to explore Corone and all the interesting folk that resided there.

The dark-eyed dancer placed her sudsy mug on the table in front of the empty chair and shared her smile with all present. She pressed one palm over her heart, both indicating herself and expressing gratitude.

“Alina Espad’rina,” she said her name with careful enunciation, and then reached out and rapped her knuckles on the table in front of her pale savior. “Good magic,” she said, returning the woman’s nod and wink. She placed her hand on the back of the empty chair and pulled it out, wrapping her mind around the strangely soft consonants of the Coronian tongue.

“I sit?”

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

I smiled awkwardly at the bronzed woman with the weird accent. Well, it was less a smile and more a contortion of my facial muscles that tried to imply cautious friendliness but ended up as more of a baring of my teeth.

"Sure," I managed to mumble after a few moments, motioning for her to take the seat she already assumed to be hers.

If only I hadn't used my teleportation stone already today...

I mentally kicked myself for offering the woman a nod and a wink after I saved her ass from those two paste-eaters who approached her. That wasn't supposed to be an invite, dammit! It was just supposed to be a quick acknowledgement that not everyone was going to stand there and allow her to be molested. But here we are, making acquaintances when all I wanted was to be left alone!

Fucking hells, next time I'm just renting a room and taking my drinks there.

I couldn't help but to give her a quick once-over with my eyes. Alina, she introduced herself as, was most definitely a foreigner. The hue of her skin, the tailoring of her corset and skirt, with all the neat little colorful flourishes in the former, pegged her as a Fallieni. That would explain her stilted way of speaking; she probably wasn't very familiar with Tradespeak. She was very fit, shaped like an athlete or a martial artist, the lines of her muscles defined even in the bright torchlight of the tavern.

And then there was this other little nondescript blond boy--girl? Thing? I don't know. Young and objectively beautiful, almost like a hormonal teenager's dreams made reality; and suitably unnerving. It followed the singer to the table, this lost look in their eyes, a little too enchanted by her work. I immediately wrote them off as someone I could ignore and not miss a single thing.

Finally, you had Hyperion's new friend, the singer. She hadn't quite introduced herself yet, but since she was buying the next round--hey, sure, I'll call her a friend for the night as well.

Thankfully, the briarbane was able to carry enough of the conversation to make up for my silence. She was practically bouncing up and down in her chair, the chains and jewels on her form-fitting robes clinking together as she reached out for the shorter woman's hands. "Please! Tell us more about that song! Where did you learn it?"

[Wander]

“Where did you learn it?” the vine creature asked, her voice eager where no eagerness would lay if she knew the truth.

“All songs have meaning. And there is a song for all reasons that one might come upon.”

“Do I have to learn them all?” Melaina asked, her amber eyes wide in astonishment.

Her mother smiled at her from where she lay resting in their nest. “No, my sweet one. A song isn't something you learn. It’s something that is born in you.”

“Like a baby?”

She laughed now, a bright sound that warmed the seas around Melaina, tickling her skin. “No. A baby takes two people to make. A song only requires you. If you come upon a situation that causes you emotion, that emotion can birth a song. You only have to focus on it.”

Melaina’s brows crinkled as she thought hard over this. “But how will I know that I have a song to sing?”

“You'll want nothing more than to call it out. Or you can sing even if the desire doesn't strike you. If you have a song, you can make others feel what the song was born from. What emotion.” She sat up a little, winning at the movement, but hid it behind a smile. “Let's try it now. Sing me a song of happiness.”

Melaina smiled a wide smile. “Okay, Mama.” She closed her eyes and thought of the things that made her happy.

Melaina blinked the memory away, breaking free of it before she could haunt herself with her own songs, or those that came after. The ones that she and her mother song together. Such a memory would be only hell on her heart and she couldn't bear that now. Not today. Not in front of all these people.

She hoped the flickering candlelight that lit the tavern would disguise the moisture in her eyes as shadows. She cleared her throat as softly as she could.

“My mother taught it to me,” she said, although that wasn't strictly true. A siren’s song was born of their heart’s own emotions. While anyone who heard the song could memorize it and sing it, even another siren, they couldn't cause the same enchantment that its creator could. That was the product of emotion. A siren’s heart was a powerful thing.

The song she had sung had been one of homesickness, a loneliness for the sea that had haunted her since she left it. She had created the song years ago, but the desire to sing it never seemed to wander far. It was constantly in her mind and on her heart, this longing for her lost home. She couldn't fulfill the desire and shake the song to silence, but it could at least make her a pretty penny.

The waitress brought a round of drinks to the table and Melaina reached eagerly for the pint that settled in front of her. Her mind wandered to the woman she had seen standing in the doorway, a vision she’d had before.

Death, she thought tiredly. Death is coming.

What was there possibly left in the world to be taken from her?

With a sigh, she downed the whole drink and waved the waitress for another. She turned to the others around the table. “Right, well, since I'm buying tomorrow’s regrets, let's at least get each other's names so we know who to curse in the morning. I'm Melaina. I'm a traveling bard. I wander hither and yon and wherever I wish and no, I don't do parties.”

[Sage]

Silence was the answer he received, or rather a lack of an acknowledgment. A forlorn look came about her, lost in her own thoughts in response to the creatures own question. It was likely that she had just not heard him, or she was much more taken in with the plant like creature than he initially believed.

“Cute little bundle of joy and excitement that it is, can’t even sit still” he thought with a wry grin, the creature reminded him all too well of his youngest sister. Oddly, the very idea of comparing the creature to his sister felt very wrong, and yet strangely appropriate. Sage dismissed the notion entirely in favour of the tables other occupant.

The dancer was … exotic. Straight from the deserts with nothing but the clothing she had brought with her, and what little she said was spoken with a distinct Fallien accent. She was a long way from home, and judging by what she was wearing she had arrived in Corone only just recently. “Was she in a rush, with what she is wearing must be feeling cold in this climate?” She was a stranger in a strange land, he could almost somewhat sympathise with her plight. But he wondered what had brought her to a place like Corone to begin with. Did she have a connection with those men, or was she just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

At this point it was all speculation on his part, he was weary about getting himself involved with another incident that could potentially threaten his life. And at this point for all he knew she may very well have gotten herself into some sort of trouble back in her homeland. enough to warrant those two men to come all the way to Corone just to find her? “What were they after? I missed that part due to that glamour spell”

Either way Sage still got the distinct impression that trouble would eventually seek her out in some form or another. Or she was set to go seeking it.

“Hello” he greeted her openly with a smile. He honestly didn’t know what her story was, and there was no sense in making one up for her either, right or wrong no one deserved to be carried away like she almost had. “Everyone froze when those men came and... Well, either way I am glad you are safe now.”

There was something that passed between the Fallien woman and the tables original occupant, a comment about good magic, something else he must have missed due to the spell he was under. “What did you hit me with” the boy mumbled questioningly facing the fae, who was nothing if not determined to purge a years worth of her memories with copious amounts of alcohol. Her offer to take the tables current occupants with her into drunken bliss was quite generous of her.

Despite her willingness to throw a spell on him within seconds of him saying hello.

“I umm, don’t really drink” The boy answered honestly “Even though I live on a vineyard. Apart from a single bottle of wine I once took for myself, I just never really found the time”

Or really develop the taste for it either. The single bottle of wine had been a onetime event that he had not really enjoyed all that much in the first place. And it had taken him away from his books for much longer than he would have liked too.

But so long as they were introducing themselves, he may as well go again for the other two “My name is Sage Ainsworth, and I’m a” the boy paused for a second as he considered a polite way to call himself a bookworm “A sort of scholar I suppose, but I hope to one day become a Mage”

[Capoeirista]

Alina had scarcely finished her first ale when the server brought her a second, whisking the used mug away. The dancer raised her glass to toast the entire table, giving a special smile to the tiny singer who she was fairly certain had paid, and then took a long draught of the bubbly brew. It left a thin foamy line on her upper lip, which she wiped away with a soft hiccup.

These islanders are not such bad folk, she decided as she leaned back in her chair, the cheap wood creaking. Most Fallieni looked down on all outlanders, but Alina had always been curious about them. In her home nation, the word outlander was used ubiquitously to refer to all people not native to Fallien. It had painted a very drab, monotone picture in the dancer’s mind of what such folk might look and act like. The truth could not be further from what she’d imagined.

That one table contained more racial diversity than she’d seen in her entire life on the desert continent, and the tavern at large seemed to contain an entire world’s worth of peoples. The strange snake-headed ones lapped at their drinks and communicated in hisses and guttural sounds. The stout bearded ones drank and roared to one another in the soft tones of Tradespeak.

“Good song,” Alina said kindly, placing her palm on the table in front of the diminutive performer. “You sing? I dance.” She shimmied her shoulders and raised her eyebrows. The ale made her legs restless, they wanted to carry her back to the center of the room to prance and leap again. The Fallieni woman tapped her foot to a tune in her head as her warm eyes washed over her other companions.

The vine-being raised so many questions that she did not have the words to voice. What magic went into keeping such a creature alive? Had it been birthed, or created, like the first hybrids to appear on the shores of Fallien? Were such beings commonplace in Corone? She gazed into the being’s four eyes over the rim of her glass as she took another pull of bitter ale. She knew only one word that could hope to sum up her queries.

“How?” She said in Tradespeak, and then unleashed a torrent of Fallieni chatter. “I don’t wish to be rude, but I find you quite amazing. In my land, I have seen griffins, great scorpions, even Karuku-tal… but never a being composed of plants. I have never even heard of such a thing. How is it you came to be?”

Blushing an even darker shade of bronze, Alina sipped her ale. Was it foolish to speak in her native tongue? Likely so, but the words had piled up within her and needed to be spoken. She looked back at the youthful boy, not wanting to ignore any of her new friends.

“Good hair,” she giggled at him over another mouthful of beer, giving her own dark locks a tug.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Hype's attention flickered between Alina and the singer, caught up between the string of unrecognizable words and her desire to know more about the latter's past. Then, she shot me a pleading look. I gave her a quick nod, and she went back to hearing the tale being told to her.

I recognized the dancer's speech. She was speaking in Fallieni. I should've guessed as much that she hailed from the isolated island nation, given her appearance and all.

My Fallieni wasn't that good, but I was hoping that it would be adequate. I was able to pick out most of what she said in her excited fit of word vomit--she was asking about Hype's origins.

Leaning forward in my seat, careful not to spill my drink, I swallowed my dislike of talking to strangers about something other than business and rapped my fingers on the bare table next to her arm. "You must please do an excuse of bad talking," I began, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn't suddenly burst out in laughter. "My Fallieni no are very good."

I considered for a brief moment how I could explain the weird and terrible origins of Hyperion. I couldn't tell Alina the whole truth; it would definitely scare her away, and possibly get me in trouble with the law if I use the wrong words.

"Hyperion plant-human. Briarheart. She forest spirit, like dryad." I searched the Fallieni's eyes for a hint of understanding. "But she not complete. Briarheart former human, make combination with spirit. Heart is plant, combine with flesh. Plant take over body."

It was a hell of a lot simpler and less morally gray than the truth, that's for sure.

[Wander]

Melaina's eyes and ears wanted to be everywhere. She didn't usually spend a lot of time around other people unless she was singing, and usually not closely enough that she learned anything about people more than what she might need to clear their pockets. But despite her reticence in communicating with people, these four creatures were very interesting.

She wished she could understand the language that the foreign woman was speaking, because she was curious about what the vine creature was. She recognized the Tradespeak word Briarheart, but it had no meaning for her and told her nothing but that there wasn't such a word in the foreign tongue for what the creature was.

Beautiful, a part of her heart whispered - the part that longed for far-off places and strange customs. And she could feel the whispers of a rising song in her soul, but she stilled her own desire to cry out.

Instead, finding no answers there and with her having answered the Briarheart's question, she turned finally to the boy who had been asking her about her magic for a while now. She'd been ignoring him, not wanting to give away what she was. Too many people, she'd noticed in her life, reacted poorly when they learned that she was a Siren. She tended to keep it to herself. Even knowing she was only half-Siren, that elusive other half she had never had a name for had cursed her in the seas with the other Sirens, and the Siren half burdened her here on the land.

But the boy was being very polite and it was clear he was simply curious. And despite her having probably very obviously enchanting him and others, he hadn't pulled a knife on her or anything, which was a definite plus.

So she turned to him - Sage, he said his name was - and asked, "Becoming a Mage is a high aspiration. What made you want to follow that path?"

[Sage]

“Thank you” the boy returned, beaming with pride as he pulled at his own locks. The comment did much to settle the boy, as he relaxed back into his chair, silently enjoying current company for what it was. They were strangers to each other, united by nothing and yet here they were, somehow drawn to a single table. It almost sounded like the start to a bad adventure, even now the boy expected someone to barge into the tavern like in one of his stories and announce some terrible news.

And if he wasn’t careful he would be swept away with the commotion and before he knew what went wrong he’d be staring down the throat of something that had more teeth than he did. “But not this night, and not this Tavern”

The boy settled deeper into his seat but perked up when the fae turned to him to enquire him about the lofty goal he was aiming for. “Umm well, Magic is… well, it’s a mystery.”

The boy considered the question, no one had asked him why he wanted to be a Mage before, his family had supported him, but they never had questioned him why he wanted to learn the art of magic. For them his decision had almost been a given.

The boy tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, every magic user I’ve ever read about always had a different way of doing things. Marco the wise would swear by runes, while Whitehall places his faith in incantations. “He explained with a flourish of his hand.

He regarded the fae with an open smile and continued on with his explanation “But most tend to use their own willpower to control their magic. They train themselves to cast a spell in such a specific way that they can make minute adjustments on the fly. This is why someone who is adept at elemental magic can often wield it like a tertiary limb.”

“Even some magical beings have a completely unique method of employing magic.” He added enthusiastically “Kitsune are masters at illusions and they can create their own brand of fire. But a phoenix can immolate itself and raise rejuvenated from its own ashes revived and free of age and wounds.”

He turned his eyes upon the humanoid plant like creature that was companion to the scarred woman, “Some, I believe have a deeper connection to an element than I could even begin to fathom”

At least that’s what he was assuming of the creature, from the fast words spoken before in the dancer’s native tongue he had managed to pick out only one or two words. He assumed they were talking about the creature, which he was guessing to be some kind of dryad. Such a creature proved to be excellent visual aide to the explanation he was trying to give and he gave the creature a smile and an appreciative nod.

“It’s like how all the oceans have a different name. It’s all the same ocean, but it’s different the further you go” he spoke enthusiastically as he steeped his fingers together. “This world is full of Magic, with no real right way of performing it either, I just want to understand it more than I presently do”

“Well that, and knowing a few spells would be quite useful” he added as an afterthought, scratching the base of his neck nervously now that he had spilled his reasons.

[Capoeirista]

Alina batted starlike eyelashes over the sudsy rim of her mug, smiling broadly at her savior’s Fallieni. Ignoring the frequent and rather adorable errors, the raven-haired woman had a firm grasp on the language. Certainly she spoke it better than Alina spoke Tradespeak. The dancer did her best to avoid verbs when communicating in the foreign tongue, knowing she would employ them hopelessly wrong.

“Briar-heart.” She rolled the new word around her palate as she examined the four-eyed being. The being examined her right back. Alina cocked her head to one side, and the masked face followed suit. Alina sipped her ale, and the briarheart did the same. Alina raised a palm and pressed it forward, and the vine-creature mirrored her action until their hands met.

The briarheart’s palm felt cool with damp, viney grooves, but still very much alive. The Fallieni woman gasped and drew her hand back. She did not know what she’d been expecting. A nervous giggle escaped her lips and she took another draught of ale.

“That is amazing,” she said in her mother tongue, addressing both the briarheart and her multi-lingual companion, “so she is a hybrid of human and plant? My land is known for its hybrid creatures. Are you a shaman, or an alchemist?” In Fallien, such folk wore special tattoos and jewelry to denote their station. Alina wondered if perhaps the vest-and-pants were a uniform for alchemists in Corone.

The dancer took another long pull of ale. She had already drained half of her second mug, and a flighty feeling buzzed around her brain. She heard the word “magic” pass several times between the little singer and the soft-cheeked boy, and glanced their way, wanting to join in the conversation but unsure how. Instead she looked expectantly back at the spindly shaman, awaiting a response.