middaeg | The world outside had its own rules [open]

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The world outside had its own rules [open]

Who: Asra Alnazar and who ever feels like joining him
When: Throughout July
Where: Various locations
What: Wandering Magician gonna wander in the Wilde and do quests (Cartography and Lucky Ingredients)
Warnings: None currently

A journey begins with a single step
It's almost midnight when Asra set out from the Western Residential District, where he'd made a bed for the night to avoid the snow and cold that blanketed much of the rest of the city. The heat was never a bother for him and Faust needed it, so he spent quite a bit of time there lately.

Right now though, he had the white and lavender python tucked securely under his scarf, a hat with a long, elegant feather topping the outfit off. He'd packed what little he expected he needed for his journey in a brown satchel that swung by his side as he walked through the near-empty streets, the sound of his footsteps sometimes the loudest noise around. He purposefully chose the emptier streets, habitually wanting to avoid attention as he left the city, but sometimes it seemed that fate had other plans. Another set of footsteps drew his attention and his gaze shifted until he noticed the other figure in the street.

"A good night for a journey," he said quietly by way of greeting. "Are you leaving too?"

---

Riddle me this
It was barely morning, the light only just beginning to filter through the trees and dapple the ground in golds and greens. It seemed to almost gild the few feathers in Asra's hand as he stood still as a statue in front of a huge creature that seems part bird and part lynx, his face tipped up to meet its eyes fearlessly.

The moment stretched out, then he spoke.

"If you break me, i do not stop working. If you touch me, I may be snared. If you lose me, nothing will matter. What am I?"

The adar llwch gwin shifted and fluffed its wings before settling again. "Your heart."

Asra nodded and waited as the next riddle came. This was starting to worry him a little, he wasn't quite certain what would happen if he couldn't answer.

"Marking mortal privation, when firmly in place. An enduring summation, inscribed in my face. What am I?" the creature asked, and Asra blinked paling a little. He glanced back at his companion and lowered his voice.

"Are you any good at riddles?"

---
Here in the forest, dark and deep...
He was deeper in the forest now, curiosity pushing him on further, and although Asra was aware of the danger, he was certain that he could manage it. Any protests raised by travelling companions were met with remarks that he'd encountered worse than a dark forest before, but that they were welcome to turn back if they liked.

He was perhaps pushing himself further than strictly necessary, considering he'd come out here to gather herbs and materials, but Asra was stubborn and continued pushing on until he became aware that there was a strange, sickly sweet scent to the air. The plants around them seemed larger, a deeper green than before, and Asra opened his mouth to suggest that maybe it would be time to turn back after all, when he found himself staring at pair of shining, white eyes that seemed to stare at him from a pitch black form.

"What... is that..."

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The hilt of his sword jumped once against his palm with the last throbbing beats of the creature's heart. There was a subtle twist of his wrist as he pulled the blade out, wiping it down before re-sheathing it.

He let Asra touch his arm, turning his head with a wince. The movement put the wound on display, raking claw marks, his flesh raw, scales torn lose. "Probably worse than it looks." He said, his voice careful and even. The pain was starting to filter back in now.

A soft curse left his lips at the sight of the injury, a mess of blood, raw, ragged flesh and torn scales. He could heal it with more time and space to work, but where they were now didn't offer much of either.

"Lets put some distance between us and here," Asra suggested, glancing back and mentally retracing their path. "I saw a cave not too far away. We can go there and I can take a better look at that for you before we move on."

"Not a bad plan." Symon demurred, walking alongside the other man. He had sheathed his sword, but one hand rested idly on the hilt, ready to draw at a moment's notice. He was lucky that that claws hadn't dug deeper, or that they hadn't drawn into his shoulder. He would still have strength in his sword arm, though turning his head would be more of a trial. Blood dripped down his throat, staining the collar of his tunic, and a few drops making it to the light curiass he wore.

His eyes still flicked through the forest as he could see through the shadows to the monsters behind.

"Can you heal it?" He asked, as they walked. He knew that Asra had been a competent mage in his home world but wasn't sure of well he did with this world's magic.

The trail of blood distressed him a bit, and instinctively Asra reached out to press his hand over the wound for a moment, focusing his energy as a cooling stream that felt like water flowing over Symon's skin. It eased the pain and bleeding a little, hopefully enough to offer some comfort, but he knew that he'd need more time and focus to properly heal it.

"I've helped out with the healers here a few times," he said quietly. "To heal it properly I'll need us to be somewhere safer but that should help a little."

He drew his hand away and licked a fleck of blood away, violet eyes sliding up to watch Symon as he did so and a smirk curling his lips. "Hmm, wouldn't want the smell to draw us too much attention either."

A little of that tension oozed from Synon's frame as Asra's magic washed over him, cool and sweet, the cessation of pain almost like pleasure. "My thanks." He said, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

But at the second part, his eyes snapped open again, a single pale brow cocking. "What," He said, "Are you saying I smell good?" His voice was perfectly deadpan.

Asra snorted a laugh, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth in contrast to Symon's deadpan expression.

"I think you'd be decidedly tempting to any hungry monsters in the area," he said lightly. "Fortunately I don't think sharing you would go down particularly well with Lyr, so we should probably make sure that doesn't happen."

Moving on, he indicated a general direction behind them. "This way, if I remember right."

"Ahh, that's fair. He wouldn't want this ruined," He gestured idly to his face. His voice was still deadpan, though the corner of his mouth turned up. With Asra's gesture, unthinking, he tipped his head in agreement, turning to walk that way. And then winced, as the movement pulled at his neck.

"And besides, if I got eaten, what would happen to you?"

"Ah, I imagine I'd have time to run away while they finished you off," Asra returned, turning enough to give Symon an enigmatic smile, one that made it hard to tell if he were laughing at a joke or not.

Fortunately it wasn't particularly far to the cave and once inside and certain it was clear, Asra gestured for Symon to take a seat while he dug through his bag.

"Muriel was always better at this than me," he murmured, as much to himself as Symon as he fished out a wax-sealed jar containing a thick paste, the colour of fresh turned earth. He broke the seal and a smell like rain on green filled the air.

Symon's lips quirked up at this answer. He always did appreciate a little bit of practicality. They were silent for the rest of the short walk to the cave, but it was a companionable sort of silence. The cave itself was cool and dark the opening wide and even, the sunlight filtering through the long hanging moss that half obscured its entrance.

At the gesture, Symon sank down on a small outcrop of the rocky cave wall, and tilted his head a touch for Asra to access his wound.

"Muriel?" He asked his voice neutral. "A friend of yours?"

"This might sting a little," Asra cautioned before he started gently smearing the mix of herbs against the wound. He was a bit more generous with it than perhaps strictly needed, but considering the limits of magic here compared to what he was used to, a little extra boost probably wouldn't hurt.

As he worked, he spoke, the topic one he didn't mind sharing.

"Muriel is my oldest friend," he said, a soft smile curling his lips. "We've known each other since we were children growing up together on the docks. We looked out for each other. You remind me of him a little."

Symon's hands spread over his thighs, pressing down as the salve was spread over the wound. He let out a careful breath, pale lashes sweeping down, as his eyes squeezed shut for a spare moment, before flicking open again.

"Oh?" He asked, curious now about what seemed like an interesting piece of the puzzle that was Asra, "How so?"

Murmuring soft, strange words under his breath, Asra pressed his hand over the wound and let his magic curl out like a stream of water slowly building to a rush, sweeping over the wound and seeming to take the pain with it. He felt more than saw the edges of the wound sealing together, and when he finally drew his hand way, there was pink and new flesh there instead of the jagged injury.

Much of the paste had been absorbed by the magic, but he carefully set about cleaning the last of it away as he spoke.

"Muriel is... quiet. He keeps to himself and doesn't like to spend much time around others," he says, and a soft laugh leaves him. "I'm his only friend other than the animals in the forest. He's always been that way but... someone made it worse. Forced him to fight and hurt people when it's so against who he is. Made him into something people feared, until he hid himself away from everything and everyone to escape it."

The magic spread over him, tingling, strange and almost intimate the way it curled into his flesh, knitting him back together. He could feel the growth of it back together, and itching like a freshly scabbed over wound. It was different than the magic of Korvosa, gentler, guiding his body back to healing rather than forcing it.

"Ah," Symon's breath puffed past his lips, remembering, "I remember now." Asra had spoken of him in the past, the friend of his that had been used by the man, Lucio. His breath slowly trickles out, his eyes settling shut.

"You've been talking to Lyr, haven't you?" He lets a touch of amusement curl into his voice. Been listening to his tales, have you?

It didn't bother him that Symon hadn't remembered; he didn't expect that others would recall all he mentioned and it was reassuring when they didn't. Although he wondered if Symon intended to make sure it didn't happen again.

The mention of Lyr broke through his musings and Asra hummed, the sound one of both agreement and consideration.

"I ran into him not long before coming out here. He was having some trouble with the cold. I helped him back home and he shared a story or two with me."

Symon let his smile take on an almost rueful, embarrassed sort of twist. That would be the proper fitting sort of expression after all. "Ahhh, mentioned how you had saved him, but less so the stories he told." He let out a soft kind of laugh. "Which, by the way, my thanks for looking after him. It means a lot to me."

He looked up at Asra, fingers smoothing experimentally against his own skin, feeling the new flesh and cool scales."What did he tell you exactly?"

"He seems like a good person," Asra agreed, his smile a softer thing at the memory of their discussion. He'd always had a softer side for people who seemed to want to find the good in the world around them, especially when they could see how dark it could also be.

He watched as Symon's fingers explored the healed flesh and was pleased that there didn't seem to be any signs of pain. "Ah, he told me a few things," he answered teasingly, his smile more secretive now. "I might have shared something in return."

His lips parted to continue teasing, but Asra was cut off as a low, warbling sound reached them. It sounded like the howl of a wolf-- almost. There was something off about the sound, almost like it was being mimicked by something that wasn't quite getting it right. Like there was something fundamentally wrong with the throat that made the sound.

It raised the hairs on the back of his neck and Asra stared wide-eyed at the entrance of the cave. "That wasn't very far from here," he murmured, still staring.

Symon cocked a brow at this. Lyr had mentioned in passing his conversation with Asra, but it seemed that he would have to get the rest of the details from him. Something to look forward to. "Are you trying to make me jealous?" He asked, his lips quirked up, that faint amusement coming back to the surface once more.

But then it drained at that animal's wail, familiar but not. The quirk deepened in his lips, that glint appearing in his eyes. He stood, stretching his neck experimentally, his hand resting on the hilt once more. He wished for a moment for Jasper, but banished the thought. It hadn't been practical to take her with Asra.

"Do you want to say back here?" He asked the man, the fire in his eyes stoking higher, "Or do you want to fight with me?"

Asra supposed he'd have thought that Symon might react differently to the threat than he did, but he hadn't expected the look in his eyes, almost like... delight at the prospect. He shivered again, although it had little to do with that howl this time, and glanced back outside. Somehow he didn't imagine that Symon would be willing to try laying low and hoping they avoided notice, and despite his own concerns, he couldn't let the other man throw his life away.

At the very least, having to face Lyr afterwards would be more difficult than he liked.

"I'll come with you," he decided, steeling himself. "We'll have a better chance together, and you'll need someone to drag you back to town afterwards."

"Thank you." He replied, his voice warm and rich, giving a little bow to Asra. "I haven't fought much with mages, but I look forward to the chance to learn." At mention to dragging him home, he laughed, the smile widening to a grin. "Well, if you do, I thank you in advance. I already owe you for the healing. Hopefully I won't be too deeply in your debt."

He drew his sword, the low silken sound of steel on polished wood. "Let's go. Sunlight's wasting."

It was the bow and Symon's apparently earnest delight at his agreement that caught Asra by surprise, a flush sweeping his cheeks before he cleared his throat in an effort to return his focus to the task before them.

"I can't say I've fought much alongside anyone," Asra admitted. "Usually I travel alone. If it comes to a fight, there's no one else to rely on."

He eyed the sword as it caught the light, his lips quirking in a smile despite another, twisted howl rising from the forest, closer now.

"It'll be a change not to be right at the front of things. I'll try to keep clear of your blade."

Symon's gaze flicked to that flush, filing it away for later, to pull apart what had appealed to Asra so. Charmed perhaps. But by the grin, the bow or both? "I used to work with a unit or partner. We drilled of course, which helps, but there was nothing like fighting alongside a partner who you've fought with before." The cant of his mouth deepened, "So we might not have the training, but for the next time, we'll have something almost as good."

He led them from the cave, putting himself ahead of Asra, his bright eyes alert. "And perforce, I'll try and keep clear of your spells. Wouldn't want a faceful of fire." The sun was bright after the cool dimness of the cave, and Symon had to squint initially against its glare.

As they crept back into the forest, Symon began to hum, half singing under his breath.

"The Chelixian's wife was as fair as the sun,
and her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Chelixian's blade was made of black steel,
and its kiss was a terrible thing."

The tune was slow, but Symon's voice was rich, and every syllable seemed to ring, lingering in the hot summer air.

"Did you and Lyr practise together before? Or have you started doing so here?" Asra asked, following after Symon, his gaze flicking around the area just to be safe, although he didn't expect they'd see anything just yet. The sounds, irregular as they were, had still been far enough away that it was unlikely they were in any danger just yet.

Unless something else decided to attack them that was, but he hoped that would not be the case.

He was still keeping an eye out when Symon started singing and Asra sighed, his gaze moving back to the other man and lingering over his features, the catch of light on his scales and the glimmer of excitement still in his eyes. Instinctively he moved closer still, enough that the back of his hand brushed against Symon's as they walked, and his attention entirely on the other man's face as he sung, each note tugging at his heart.

"As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,
and the taste of his blood on his tongue,
His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,
and he smiled and he laughed and he sung"

But Symon stopped his song to answer Asra's question "Ahh, never in Korvosa, no." They could hardly be seen together, let alone openly work together. He felt the warm brush of Asra's skin against his, and noticed the proximity of the other man, not to mention the gaze that raked over him.

He laughed suddenly, low and soft as he realized. "Sorry." He murmured, "The singing a bit distracting?" There was a part of him that wanted to keep on going, to croon the words, on and on, as Asra swayed in his grip.

Another time perhaps. For now at least, practicality had to rule.

Edited 2019-08-04 02:40 (UTC)

It was only when the singing stopped that Asra realised how distracted he'd been and took a step back, stumbling at little at the sudden shift between moving forward and back, and covered his fluster poorly by dragging his hand through his messy pale curls.

"Ah... I imagine you forget that it can do that," he mumbled, half wishing that something would come at them now to give him a distraction. Unfortunately whatever was out there wasn't quite so inclined to humour him.

"Although if your voice was half as compelling before we came here, I can imagine you had a similar effect regardless. And it's an... interesting song."

Symon licked his lips, his teeth aching, the urge to continue singing to see Asra open before him like a blossom to the sun nearly overwhelming. He took a careful breath instead, the fins at his wrist flexing and instead satisfied himself by letting his gaze linger on the flush in the other man's cheeks, the way his fingers barely trembled as he ran them through his hair.

"Getting used to it and all. I've always been in the habit of singing, it seems like I will have to curb it somewhat. " Or not, depending on my mood.

"Oh, yes, I rather like it." He continued on. His lashes dipped lower over his eyes, "Would you like to hear the rest later?"

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