#location.feywilds

[temperednuvi]

who? @abelasx where? the feywilds

Nightmares are not gone when one wakes, and Shenuvun had not expected for all that had terrified her for years to fade in the morning light. The experiences she had gone through in Iskaran lands would mark her forever more, the scabs sitting just beneath the skin and aching, begging her for her to scratch at them until they bleed once more. Only time would turn the scabs into scars, only time would heal the wounds imposed on her by Iskaran hands, but she did not want to give them any more time. She had lost years in their care, and now she had to live in the aftermath, reminding herself every night that she would not wake up in the caverns once more. 

The reminder helps, but it doesn’t make waking up easier. There are days where sleeping in her apartment is too much for her, days when she wakes up feeling choked by the walls closing in on her. 

Sometimes those days turn into weeks. 

Nuvi has taken to camping with Harajatish on those days, and as dawn breaks over the trees of the Feywilds, she knows it was the right choice. Hands buried on Harajatish hair, she sighs as she rests her head against his flank and considers her options. She has to go back to Bacchus, but she wants to stay in the forests for a little bit longer, the fresh air soothing her sentences. Breathing in deeply, she goes to stand up when she hears steps against the forest floor. Head snapping up, she looks around with narrowed eyes. 

“Who goes there?”

[temperednuvi]

A gift is unique to the individual, Shenuvun knows. Lineages inherit similar gifts, sometimes even the same, but not within a generation. It’s a curious phenomena and one she would have tried to research if she didn’t have a higher purpose, if she so called it. As it is, she has never gotten around to answering her question on whether a gift was predetermined by personality or if personality was predetermined by a gift. It’s a fun musing to entertain, and one she keeps close to her chest as she watches the faiman approach her construct of her red elk friend with careful eyes. Head tilted in consideration, she takes in the way her construct stills and hums curiously. 

“If it kept you alive, then it did what it is meant to do,” she notes thoughtfully. The Weave works in mysterious ways, and while there doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or a reason as to why certain gifts develop over others, there surely is one. After all, the tapestry of destiny is firmly woven and everything happens for a reason, even her forsaken imprisonment. “Though I do wonder about the depth of potential. Would you be able to stop an elemental, I wonder?”

It is as if life itself is pulled from the Earth, the dirt stirs and movement rises, the creation of earth bows to her and her lips tug into a smile. Raven had troubles getting close to others or revealing any vulnerable underbelly that might exist past her steely hide. Careful eyes watch and she knows she is more than human, her parents were imprisoned for magic and yet she never learned past what she could inflict. The thieves that she met alongside the highway didn't care to teach, time was not to be shared but if you were not a useful blade, you were a useless rock that would sink the ship.

It felt needlessly cruel to reach for the woman in front of her so instead she turned towards the earth creation and with a touch from her hand upon the chest of the manipulation, it froze where it stood and it's breath was stilled, the eyes always moved with fear. "I cause paralysis, it's kept me alive as anything I touch loses the ability to move." It's allowed her to survive through murder and thievery, a wicked skill that bred a wicked girl in a world that wished to damn her to hell. It made others less likely to help once they learned that her gift was not one of peace but destruction and harm.

[temperednuvi]

Part of her is faintly embarrassed of her behavior, but she is also far too desperate for any sort of normalcy after the mines to pay that embarrassment overtly much attention. She has committed far worse social faux pases for less, and at the end, he had decided to stay despite her oddness. That is enough, for now if nothing else. Maybe, maybe if she interacts with her people, some of the weight on her shoulders will lift. Maybe, just maybe, it will help her sleep at night. 

“His name is Harajatish,” she offers quietly, a fond smile on her face as she watches the red elk lean forward to sniff at the treats before biting them delicately. “But he also enjoys being called Hara, handsome and precious.”

This elvhen sounded wretchedly desperate, it was kind of offputting but Abelas supposed he could humor her. She didn't look like much of a threat but maybe by befriending her he could befriend that elk in the process. "Oh yeah- huh," Abelas said, agreeing because he hadn't actually been listening to a word that she'd said. He slid, casually, out of the saddle and then approached the regal creature with some respect - offering a low bow with his arms splayed out at his sides before reaching into his bag of too many things to produce some healthy, homemade treats.

"Pretty pal you got here, what's their name?" Ableas asked the nerdy stranger.

[temperednuvi]

Old eyes watch the young woman hesitate before giving her answer, something softening on them as she hears the single sentence and understanding begins to dawn. It must be difficult, to have grown in a country that saw you as an evil for the crime of being born. Even more so, to have the life you had built for yourself despite it all be destroyed overnight. Empathy dawns, the closer she looks, and the urge to offer her the gift of knowledge despite the wariness that had buried itself on her chest during her stay in Iskaldrik prevails. 

“So be it,” she says, hands moving to settle on the earth as she reaches deep within herself and calls forth the song whose melody followed her even deep into the vowels of the earth. Carefully, she nudges the earth around them and watches as the clearing between the two of them begins to shift and raise. From the earth, a small imitation of Harajatish raises and bows to the faiman before moving around the clearing elegantly and settling to the side to wait for another command. “My particular gift is that of earth manipulation, what it’s yours?”

The feeling comes on from time to time, Raven tries her best to keep it at bay by acting on her independence and capacities, she felt like an abandoned dog left out in the rain and her foot kicks at the dirt. She's a lot better when she wants, when she can achieve her desires through coercion or her paralyzing touch. When it came to feeling vulnerable, an intense feeling of discomfort over fell her.

Her parents were taken into the mines at a young age and she was alone ever since, the only constant company was the crow that circled overhead. She had been seperated from her lineage and knew little to nothing, she remembers a warm touch and hands that loved her and guided her before they told her to hid and she never saw them again. "Demonstration." She grunts out the one word and her raven hair falls in front of her eye as if it was a shield to block out the rest of the world.

[temperednuvi]

She considers Abelas for a moment, and distantly she wonders if he even knew her name. Their meetings had never been long, and for all the good things he wrote, she knows enough to realize that his interest lies more in animals than in people. Not that she can judge, the only reason why she knows his name and has not forgotten is because of his books. 

Which reminds her. 

“Wait—,” she calls out, wincing at how desperate she sounds. Perhaps she needs to meet with more elvhen, if she is that desperate to talk to her kind. Still, she isn’t dissuaded by her desperation to connect to her people after years apart. In fact, that only bolsters her. “Have you written anything interesting recently? I haven’t gotten around to see bookstores in the past eight years and I would hate to have missed anything good.”

There was a very long, pregnant pause as Abelas tried to remember her name. They'd definitely met before... Or did she just have one of those faces.

Harajatish he recognized though, smiling, he reached into his bag and extended his open palm toward the creature and offered the handmade treats. "Aren't you still just so gorgeous."

Icarus sniffed the air though and then bristled a bit. Abelas smelled it too, this one was kind of stinky.

"Alright well..." Icarus began to meander past her as Abelas adjusted himself to straddle the other's back as the great owlbear lumbered forward. Its stomach hung low enough to just brush the grass as it swayed with every slow, labored step. "Bye."

Gosh, what was her name again?

[temperednuvi]

A little laugh of disbelief leaves her as Icarus comes into view, the tension dropping entirely from her shoulders as she hears Abelas’ voice come from above the owlbear’s head. Many would be intimidated by the sight, but it is the opposite to Shenuvun. Slowly, she releases her grip from Harajatish and raises into standing position to turn and face the pair with a smile full of fond amusement on her lips. 

“It’s me,” she admits softly, a nod of acknowledgment moving her head as she speaks.  “After everything, it’s still me.”

It’s odd to say, and entirely too somber for the tone one would usually take around Abelas, but it feels good to admit it out loud. Like any alchemical procedure, a process has been enacted upon her, but despite everything, the bare bones of who she is remains the same, and despite everything, she can still be recognized as Shenuvun. The invisible chains weighing on her ankles are just memories, the scars will fade, and the wounds left behind by the mines and the Broodmother will mend. 

After all, their kind has all the time they need to heal. Or so she hopes. 

“I haven’t sorry, he wasn’t in the parts of Iskaldrik I got to see.”

Icarus lumbered forward as Abelas laid across his back, they were taking turns carrying each other and finally, after nearly breaking Abelas's back, it was Icarus's turn to walk.

It certainly felt nice to be pampered, eyes turned toward the clear sky above as he peered through the canopy overhead. Idly, he listened to his owlbear's labored breathing as the hefty guy continued to meander through the forest. Despite his size, he managed to navigate the dangerous terrain without disturbing any of the local fauna. He'd been watching Abelas long enough and nearly gotten them both killed frequently enough that he'd picked up a few things.

At some random voice, Abelas turned over and peered over Icarus's head, scowling at the thought there might be a human interrupting his lovely little daydream. "Oh, it's you." It was always so strange to run into other people out here, usually, Abelas hated it because they were poachers, but on this occasion, he made an exception. "Have you seen Oberon?"