Topics of Interest

[Yeva]

12 Saun 720

The library in Rharne was a familiar place for Yeva, having grown up within its very stacks. The white stone walls were a smooth contrast to the rich wooden shelves, lined from floor to ceiling with leather or cloth bound tomes. In some corners, tucked away in canisters or bound in layers of ribbon, were scrolls on a variety of subjects, less organized but nonetheless valuable in their succinct learnings. These were always the first thing she liked to explore upon entering through the front doors, finding it to be an ever changing treasure trove on a variety of subjects. Her fingers touched them reverently, and she smiled, glancing over her shoulder before untying one and lifting its page to her face. She inhaled, warm brown eyes closing to enjoy its scent of Athartian ink and pressed vellum. With the aroma came the memories.

Age eight, reading riddles in the room meant for children, sprawled on a woven mat of many colors, kicking her feet. Twelve, trying to practice her arithmetic while a rather distracting and handsome boy chuckled reading a red-covered novel. Fifteen, stumbling upon an amorous young couple in the back stacks, whom she recognized as old school mates. Drawing the paper from her face, she turned it over in her hand.

"Yeva, is that you?" the sound of a cane clinking across the stone floors cause the medic to look up, and she beamed at what she saw. A woman barely over five feet, with a slight hunch to her back, shuffled forward, hand frail and unsteady as she reached out, "Do these old eyes deceive me?"

Yeva laid down the paper and went bounding towards the elder woman, wrapping her arms around her and burying her face in the shoulder of her scratchy shawl, "Oh, Mrs. Corine! You're still here." For as long as she could remember, this woman had been a scribe and assistant researcher, often helping visitors find books of interest. They had known each other for many arcs.

"I'm not dead yet," she laughed, patting the girl on the back and straightening wire-rimmed spectacles as Yeva pulled back, "Such a beautiful young lady... Look how you've grown."

Mrs. Corine looked down, slipping a soft, but wrinkled hand under Yeva's. For a while, she was very quiet and then looked up, a sly smile, "Still not married?"

Yeva drew her hand back, blushing, "No, no..." she cleared her throat, "Not yet."

"What about that Avriel fellow? He was always crazy about you. Perhaps a bit too much."

"We're just friends," her embarrassment was growing. If it wasn't her parents pressuring her... Why was everyone so obsessed with matrimony? Yeva had a few close friends and a number of good books. What more could she want?

"Maybe that's what you thought," Mrs. Corine wrinkled her nose and patted Yeva's hand, softly laughing, "Well, you're still young. You've still got this place."

Yeva clung on to the topic change, "Exactly. Um... Actually, maybe you could help me?"

The older woman leaned on her cane, one hand over the other, waiting.

"I'm looking for something on language-"

"This way, dear."

"But I didn't even-"

"Yes, yes. Keep up."

Yeva blinked, pressing her lips together to follow after the scribe's shuffling steps. She took them through the stacks of book, to the western wing and pointed from one end of the wall to the other, "Everything we have on Idalosian linguistics. Sorted by region most commonly found. You'll find the Ancient section -from Viden - rather sparse. I'm afraid the Eidisi, for all their knowledge, can be rather stingy with that particular subject. There are a few books, but you'll have to go to the ice palace for that... Higher up, you may find writings, studies, on otherwise only spoken word. You'll have to use the ladder, I'm afraid. Anything else?"

Sunlight filtered through stained glass, casting a soft glow along the floor, and she found herself captivated by its simple beauty, "No... This.. this is perfect."

Yeva's footsteps were soft, boots gently stepping along as she craned her neck, both overwhelmed and excited by the sheer magnitude of this task. She found herself hopelessly lost, piling a number of titles in her arms until she was forced to seek out a table to lay them on. Huffing beneath the weight, she struggled, a few books sliding forward and clattering to the ground in a great ruckus that felt amplified in the otherwise quiet space. Face reddening, Yeva whispered profuse apologies and crouched to collect her mess.

[Zur'lei]

Saun 12, 720

He never believed he dreamed without lucidity, or perhaps he just could never recollect those dreams after he had dreamt them. This was most likely very strange for he could always retrieve those dreams he walked through. Maybe he was living in a continuous dream from which he could never wake. Could he not be haunted by a nightmare so tangible, so real, as to seem like reality?

To suggest that this life he lived was a nightmare would be a falsification of its true identity. It wasn’t as atrocious as the definition of the word proposed. His childhood had been all-too serious, lacking the normal play and banter with those his age, and as he grew things hadn’t progressed in any positive way save for his meeting Ash.

Regardless of his perspective on the time he had spent alive on this earth, he had no choice but to tell himself that there were those who fared much worse and it was this notion that kept him going. For he had an affinity for knowledge and the knowledge had an adoration for him, it seemed; always seemingly easy to grasp and remember. And it was at this particular point in time Zur had found himself stationed at a lustrous oak table at the back of the grand library of Rharne, his nose buried in the aromatic pages of papyrus. His writing utensil was held stiffly in his hand, his eyes grazing over the words he had just finished writing.

Summer enlists a feeling of sanctity,
The sheer sunny beams
The gossamer webs adorning the forest floor
The songs of robins in the breeze...

He scribbled another couple of lines underneath the preceding ones, his muse flitting away along with his patience. He hadn’t been here long, but he had felt like he had been here long enough. It was quite disconcerting to him how short spanned his attention was; usually he could keep interest in a singular activity for hours before noticing any hint of boredom.

He inwardly chalked it up to the type of day it was: hot, muggy, stagnant air adhering to any and all surfaces coating them with sweaty beads, including his own forehead.

He flicked his eyes throughout the room, hoping he would find an inkling of inspiration. Instead what he found was even better. More ferocity than he’d ever seen was held in a nearby woman’s hair. Tangled, curly, like interwoven vines in a jungle. She emerged from between two cases overflowing with reading material. Her eyes were brazen chocolate and Zur was none too oblivious to capture the determination held within them.

He quickly looked down at his journal and brandished his writing utensil, setting to work describing her unique appearance.

None could compare to a beauty seen as I see
Copious amounts of fire framing
Muddy eyes like goblets holding a dark liquor
What does she see that I do not?
For I do not feel the sanctuary brought by the sun
or the breeze
or the birds...

A loud clatter shattered his focus before redistributing the pieces that remained to a heap of books on the floor.

There was the woman, crouched down, face as vibrant as the hair atop her head, scrambling to bring order to the mess before her.

Subconsciously, Zur felt himself ambling towards her in haste. He knelt beside her and began to assist in picking up her books.

Shy, and therefore refraining from making any direct eye contact, he awkwardly attempted at conversation.

“For being so flat and square in shape, these don’t make it easy to stack or balance.”

He was talking about the attributes of books? Was that really his attempt at starting a conversation?

He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment, surly aware his own face had turned a unique shade of crimson. However, with all the books compiled into one tall stack once again, he had started to turn away, to retreat back to his zone of comfort. Although, before he had made much ground, he noticed the topic of the lady’s fascination.

Linguistics. More importantly, of the ancient tongue with history tied to the Eidisi of which he had relations.

Zur cocked his head to the side and studied the text before him.

“Funny,” he murmured more to himself than anyone in particular. “Subject matter I am keenly aware of.”

For the first time since the whole falling book debacle, he looked down to the woman, their eyes meeting. He could have sworn he saw a spark in hers after saying what he said.

[Yeva]

12 Saun 720

A pair of cool toned hands joined her own, swiping up the books to aid in her attempt at corralling the mass of knowledge. A voice followed and Yeva looked up, smiling sheepishly at the stranger with the dark hair and blue eyes, "That probably says more about me than the books, doesn't it?" No matter how flat or square they may have been, carrying half the library in her arms was bound to have failed eventually. She took them from his grasp, constructing a tall tower at her feet which she would move in sections to the nearest table. In order to do so, Yeva looked over her shoulder, scanning the room before turning over a spine to check for damage, "Sometimes I forget how many of them I'm holding until I can't seem to carry anymore," he was already retreating, and she tilted her head back as he rose to full height, offering an awkward wave, "Ah - thanks for your help."

Drawing a more manageable amount of tomes against her chest, Yeva met his curious gaze. She had thought he might be off again to his own business and hadn't expected him to take any pause, "Really?" she tried to smooth her mess of curls. He appeared to be mulling over something with soft words.

She had questions. He could have answers!

It was difficult to tone down the eagerness from her voice, "Are you from Vi- Oh, wow." The medic noticed the marking on his eye, "Your scar... It's like blue lightening, or..." she tapped her own cheekbone and trailed a finger to imitate the mark beneath her lashes. In fact, looking at him more closely, he appeared to have a very subtle frostiness to him despite the pink dusting to his cheeks. She closed her eyes briefly, snapping her fingers as she struggled to recall a better comparison, "Cracked ice."

In Scalvoris, Yeva had seen many unique things. Women covered in purple fur with horns. Men with black claws, others with white hair and a quite literal jolting touch. And of course, her favorite, the law enforcer with the green skin and gold eyes, "Sorry," she rushed, "I hope I'm not being rude by pointing it out. I, uh, well - I'm a medic, at the Order of Adunih. I was recently in Scalvoris for my certificate in medicine and so I just..." she cleared her throat, always hyper aware of how much talking she could do after putting her foot in her mouth, "...notice things like that."

Yeva cleared her throat.

Was that awkward silence?

Oh, gods, she couldn't tell. Did she look as uncomfortable as she suddenly felt? It was time to get to the point, "Anyway, my name's Yeva."

'And I'm a walking social disaster.'

She patted the books that had caused all the commotion, "I'm trying to get my letter in Linguistics. So... "

She took a deep breath to try to calm the the flush that was starting to warm her ears, "Wish me luck."

If Yeva's social skills were any indicator of her academic success, she would certainly need it.

[Zur'lei]

Saun 12, 720

The way she spoke was like falling leaves on a windy day: swirling and twirling amidst the aimless air, not quite without destination, but entirely with a journey. She had a passion for what she did, Zur noticed as she continued to speak.

The young man was enthralled with her level of education. Of course, he couldn’t speak much of his. He had had lessons and bountiful amounts of homework assigned to him by his father as he was growing up, but no formal education had ever graced his mind. He was a self-taught virtuoso, or so he liked to claim himself as. He never shared this self-given title with anyone else, but he knew a little here and there about many things and he felt he knew a lot about the mind and the unseen concepts that wafted through the thoughts of both himself and those around him. He knew deep in his heart that someone need no proper training in a particular area to be knowledgeable about it. Take his passion for psychology and philosophy, for instance. He spent days teaching himself about the complex metaphysical laws of mere contemplation all by doing just that- contemplating. Anyone who disagreed with the fact that someone couldn’t be intelligent in a certain field solely because they had not been taught by a professor was wrong, and it was this statement that Zur assumed as not simply opinion, but as fact.

He grasped the vague idea that the woman was of a similar kind. Whilst she said she was obtaining a letter in linguistics and whatever else it was she had studied or planned to study in the future, he was certain she had already been an intelligent women with an affinity that gave her an advantage in absorbing the knowledge she pursued.

It was no challenge noticing the way her face lit up after Zur had mentioned his awareness of the ancient tongue. A wafting sense of like-mindedness shared between the two quickly tapped on his shoulder and whispered in his ear saying she was innocently curious with no intentions on using him had she any questions about the linguistics associated with the tongue.

He knew from previous situations spent with his father that people used others for their own benefit, sometimes leaving those whom they used with nothing. His father was one such individual. His research often required the assistance of more than one person, and after they had helped and had nothing more to offer, his father dismissed them as though they were nothing more than the livestock that served those who ruled over them.

At the mention of his marking, Zur couldn’t help but blush. He had not spent much time one on one with anyone aside from Ash and therefore had never an opportunity for someone to point it out. Fortunately for him, the red-head mentioned it with honest admiration and not in an attempt to cause him humiliation.

His father had told him about the marking and where it came from, for he too bore the blessing. He learned of Yvithia, though only minor details as his father never ventured into lengthy conversation with anyone, including his own son. What he had learned from him however, was that the Eidisi were superior to other races and had a vast rapport with comprehension of any kind. This egotistical nature, of which Zur always tried to not acquire in himself, led people to dislike the Eidisi. Who would want to be talked down to or seen as inferior? Certainly not Zur. He could only try to empathize with those who were not of his father’s race. He was thankful his mother had been a Sev’ryn, even if she had not partaken in his life.

“You’re not being rude,” Zur said abruptly, attempting to ensure the awkwardness he felt beginning to linger in the air would come no closer. “There are many reactions that come in response to seeing a marking such as mine. I’m happy to know that yours was as positive as it was.” He smiled, a lopsided grin that he hoped cane across as genuine. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful per se, but he was still cautious such as he was conversing with any other stranger. But now he knew her name: Yeva- such a unique name- so they weren’t strangers anymore now were they?

He was briefly recalling their conversation as a subtle lull fell upon them when he remembered the other subject she was in the process of achieving documentation for. Medicine.

Oh, how he loved the idea of medicine. He had dabbled in the theme on many occasions but never put any serious thought into it. However, just standing here talking with such an ardent lady created a ripple effect within him. He felt a blossoming of intellectual appetite. Oh, how he yearned to learn more on the topic.

A thought occurred to him then as he watched the woman initiate a step in the opposite direction and place a resolution of words in the air. He quickly stuck out his hand and placed it on her shoulder, hoping his eagerness was not misunderstood for violence.

“How about I make a proposition?” He stated, taking a seat at the nearest table, which just so happened to be the one where his writing material laid. “What if I share with you some of my understanding of the ancient tongue if you disclose to me some of yours on medicine?”

He had already bent over and started collecting the books that stood at the base of her feet, transferring them over to the table he sat at. He hoped his actions would impose a sense of persuasion upon Yeva.

“My name is Zur’lei,” he added with a hint of a true smile. “I’m sure you have numerous stories about experiences in your field.”

Once he had all the books on the table, he gently pointed to the seat across from him. He hoped he wasn’t being too pushy. After all, Yeva had no need to offer him anything. Although, he did hope the offer he had just presented provided enough encouragement to continue their conversation.

ooc

I apologize if I went on a little tangent about the whole “not needing proper training to be smart thing”. I personally have only had two courses in philosophy and feel like my understanding is much greater than those who may have had more. All this because I have naturally been a deep thinker and adamantly focused on teaching myself the subject. But I’ve been treated as inferior because I don’t have a major under my belt. I wonder if you feel the same!

[Yeva]

12 Saun 720

A hand fell upon her shoulder and she turned with a look of guarded surprise, brow-raising when he spoke. A proposition? "I'm listening," she admitted, eyes following him as he leaned over to collect the rest of her books and lay them on a nearby table. Hopefully harmless, the tall stranger sat down before pages of vellum that suggested literacy and smiled infectiously. Unlike some of the Avriel of Athart, or pirates of Scalvoris, he seemed genuinely interested and Yeva smiled back, her grin spreading even further when he suggested trading knowledge, "I wouldn't be interrupting you?"

She stepped forward, footsteps slowing the closer she came, and then looked at the books in her arms. Languages were meant to be shared between two people, sometimes more. It was communication - and how far could she get without another to guide her? There was no doubt to the petite woman that this type of self-studying had its time and place, and she thought of her friend Azrael; who had sat her at a table across the world and taught her the alphabet of Athartian Script. Without him, the subtleties of proper (and legible) handwriting might have been lost. Yeva could admit when she needed help, and this man, Zur'lei, offered it in exchange for something she could not only provide but enjoyed giving.

Yeva extended a soft hand to greet his own, giving a firm shake should he take hers, "It's very nice to meet you, Zur'lei. I think I would like that very much."

Yeva happily took her seat. It was true; she had stories.

Cassion, an Immortal whom she had met in the collapsing tunnels of Faldrass, had called her brave after appearing from seemingly nowhere while Yeva gave medical attention to otherwise destitute companions. There had been broken bones, nerve damage, burns, perhaps even concussions, and the supplies had been lost. That was one of the more interesting tales, but not a memory Yeva was eager to rejoin. She nodded towards the writing utensil and began to organize a few of the books. Some themselves weren't on language at all, but of Viden and Eidisi culture, "Are you a writer?" she asked, grabbing at the leather strap her bag that was slung across her chest, "I've written a few research papers - short ones - I wouldn't even know where to start with prose. Not to make assumptions or anything." Yeva undid the ties to her satchel, pulling out a different book, one of her own, and set it on the table's edge. From the rich embossing and supple leather, it appeared impressively crafted and was numbered 4 of 20: The Complete Culinary Encyclopedia, it read. A gift for winning a competition, Yeva nudged it aside to not get confused with the library's collection.

Atop it, Yeva laid out some pressed flowers, a bundle of dried sage, a string of blue ribbon with tattered ends, two rolls of cloth bandage, and a quill with inkpot. She frowned, "I forgot my journal," she muttered after a moment, digging deeper with no luck. She hummed and her attention flickered to Zur'lei, "Care to trade?" she smiled and moved one of the rolls in the center of the table, hoping he could give her a bit of paper, "We could use these for some first aid training. How to make a sling or wrap a wound... I'm not sure what you might already know. I've not really had to teach anyone before so if there's anything you don't understand or I'm talking too fast, just ask."

She smiled, clearing the workspace once more, "I like questions."

ooc

I love tangents! Formal education is nice, but I don't think it's necessary to be knowledgeable. I had been very close to a degree but had to leave university due to, well... not having enough money :P I still like to think I'm a pretty smart cookie, with or without a slip of paper saying so. I do a lot of studying on topics of interest for fun. Especially foreign language, so I guess that's where Yeva gets it! haha

[Zur'lei]

Saun 12, 720

His heart swelled with excitement as his opinion on socialization continued to grow more positive. Always one to choose solace over company, he was beginning to think that he had wasted so many years stuck in a pit of independence.

Sure, being independent was a lovely thing, but succumbing to it because of anxiety or lack of opportunity to otherwise befriend someone accumulated a weight in his gut over time. That weight was starting to melt into something more fluid, more care free, and he liked it.

Alas, he quickly stopped his elation. He recalled experiences of brimming with joy at the prospect of participating in something or at the thought of acquiring something only to have it fall through, the proverbial rug being ripped out from underneath him; he was not normally a very coordinated person and often fell a lot, submitting to feelings of loss without even having something to lose to begin with.

He held up an imaginary hand, a figment to illustrate to him that he needed to remain somewhat guarded. It would be all too gullible to not take precaution in doing anything. Raising one's hopes up too high only created a larger distance for which they could fall. And he had been in too good of a mood as of late to fall.

Her skin felt soft as he took her hand in his, though the occasional callous flawed her otherwise smooth skin. Was he shaking her hand for too long? Were his hands clammy from the nervousness that had been cast upon him at the introduction?

It was true what they said about those who were easily stressed. After being enveloped in a blanket of tensity, the easily stressed would often blank in thought and action. Frozen, and erring in knowing how to proceed regardless of usually feeling confident in knowing what to do, a million thoughts on various trains in their brain would crash into one another, the conductors screaming in fear. That is how Zur felt at the moment, only in a much milder form.

Oh, how it had been so long since he had interacted or even touched another being aside from his partner. And a lady nonetheless!

He controlled himself by focusing on her smile. It was contagious, and before he knew what he was doing, he was reciprocating her pleasurable expression.

“I like to think of myself as one,” he responded to her inquiry about his journal. He had almost forgotten entirely about its existence. His concentration had been drawn in totality to Yeva and her books. “I like to immerse myself in the literary world of rhymes and rhythms, but most importantly the kind of language that is used in poetry.”

It was a unique one, he thought- the language used in poems. It didn’t really resemble singing and it wasn’t exactly similar to writing stories. It held an eloquence and an elegance; it was a special craft that required devotion and vast emotion. It weaved threads of awe through its readers, and made for imagery that depicted subjects that had no visual appearance: the sensation of losing someone who had once felt so dear, the scent of rose petals being carried by the wind, the feeling someone gets when experiencing nostalgia after a long time of not feeling anything at all.

Expunging himself from his mind felt like the reverberations of thunder- startling. She had asked him to trade, right?

Without thinking twice, he pushed his journal towards her, neglecting to check that he had indeed not flipped the page. His previous poem, unfinished but completely prone to wandering eyes, lay face up in front of Yeva. Zur rarely cursed but crap.

It was too late to take back what he had done, and distraction was an act he was very ignorant in, so instead of adding any more blunders to the embarrassing impression he had made of himself, he diverted the conversation (and perhaps her eyes?) to something that was sure to capture her interest. Although starting his speech with an erroneous “um” was not a great beginning.

“What if your physical body didn’t truly exist,” he said, looking anywhere but her and his journal. “What if your mind- pardon- your brain was somewhere else, perhaps in a vat of some life-preserving substance; and all the pain you feel or the sensations you undergo are merely fabrications generated by your brain? I mean think about it…” As he trailed off, so did the attention of his mistake he had prior.

“Could this not all be an illusion? Could we be experiencing falsifications of life? Our mind is composed of so much we have yet to understand, yet we regard this life as all there is.”

Oh dear, had he exposed too much of his innocuous, yet completely loony self? Was she put off by his squabble?

“Imagine if a broken bone could be set by itself merely by thinking that the accident that caused it was only a facade of a powerful imagination. People wouldn’t need medicine. We wouldn’t find slings and bandages necessarily.”

Suddenly he realised what it was he was saying and how it might have affected his audience.

“That isn’t to say medicine is obsolete. I find it very important and my interest in it still holds. Alas, wouldn’t that be a revelation?”

He cleared his throat and pulled at a loose thread on his shirt.

“I do apologize. We aren’t here for philosophical quandaries. And I meant no disrespect to your profession. My mind just… um… So how do you make a sling?” To think a distraction was met with yet another distraction. “And what might a sling be essential for?”

ooc

I think it’s so cool how we infuse our personalities into the characters we create. Zur is my “me” in a nutshell whereas my other character is the persona I sometimes wish I had. I just had to create two!

Thus far I can definitely say writing with you is amazing! You’re very talented and it’s fun to read your replies.

[Yeva]

12 Saun 720

Zur'lei wasn't like the men that she had met - not that she had met many men at all - but here he was, in a sanctuary of learning, while others his age were fighting or drinking or vomiting, perhaps, in a nearby corner from either of aforementioned activities. Yeva could count on her hand those who shared similar interests of written word and curiosity. It admittedly gave the woman interest in who he was and why. Trade accepted, Zur'lei passed his journal across the table and Yeva was once again reminded of her own diary, and she thought perhaps there was a kinship to be shared - that they might have had quite a bit in common. And so she accepted the book with a thankful smile, expecting a blank parchment but glancing written word.

"Um," Zur'lei had something to say, "What if your physical body didn’t truly exist?"

Yeva blinked. She hadn't expected that.

He continued, "What if your mind- pardon- your brain was somewhere else, perhaps in a vat of some life-preserving substance; and all the pain you feel or the sensations you undergo are merely fabrications generated by your brain? I mean think about it…”

"Alright," a slow smile curved her lip and she closed her eyes to fully immerse herself the idea.

“Could this not all be an illusion? Could we be experiencing falsifications of life? Our mind is composed of so much we have yet to understand, yet we regard this life as all there is.”

She opened one eye, peeking across the table. Yeva didn't believe this was all there was, but wasn't keen on interrupting the man before he had a chance to share his thoughts. This was an interesting and unexpected turn of conversation. The writer across from her guided them away from small talk apparently, jumping straight to existentialism, "Wouldn't that be something?" she mused, closing her eyes to visualize wounds knitting jagged flesh into neat rows and vanishing. Bones resetting. Vision being restored. After a moment, she took a deep breath and expelled a breath, aware of the air moving past her lips to fade from her lungs, "Sounds like a dream," The reminded her, "Zur'lei-"

Brown orbs flickered back open and she scooted to the edge of her seat, "Do you... do you believe in souls? It's just... I had a dream recently... I guess it was more of a nightmare." Only tattered fragments of the memory remained, but she knew she had been hurt within it, she could still recall the fear, "There was a man I met... He told me we were dreaming."

Yeva hadn't known fully what he meant. The details of his face were spotty, his name just out of reach... A look of frustration fluttered across the woman's face at the lack of recollection. She tapped her skull, "There was a cave in, and a rock hit me. When I woke up, I had a horrible headache. I thought... well," a blush began to creep back across her cheeks. If her hair had been pulled back, he might have notice how her ears rosined, "I thought maybe I was there - my soul - or... something. Of course, I woke up and my body was where I left it."

She shrugged, silently concerned for the man in her dream. Brent's leg had been crushed, cut, "Maybe I had the headache first, I don't know," Yeva's gaze dropped from embarrassment, admitting something that might sound crazy to a mere acquaintance, "I don't think that's very silly to wonder, there's so much about the world we don't understand. So, I take no offense."

Once, she had dreamt of a ship and had woken up on the side of the mountain. She did not say this, though. Yeva was fully confident the Eidisi turned Immortal, Tio Silver, had been responsible for that particular abduction turned adventure. And an adventure it had been! Otherworldly gatherings and riddles, Truth disguised as a satyr. Yeva was looking at the page, but her eyes had glossed over, not quite reading the words with her full attention.

"Summer enlists a feeling of sanctity,
The sheer sunny beams

"Oh, right, slings. Yes."

Yeva gave a sharp shake of her head to keep herself focused and passed the book back before temptation to read a man's diary took hold. Even from the lines she skimmed, he had a lovely way with words, "I think you might have given this to me by accident. Here."

Passing the book back, she stood, reaching for a bandage and beginning her demonstration, rounding the table while unraveling a manageable length. From her reaction, she hadn't quite made it to the part about red hair, "Slings are very useful is someone has broken a bone or had their shoulder dislocated. More common than you think, actually," she waved the bandage, nodding towards his arm, "Can I touch you?"

[Zur'lei]

Saun 12, 720

Her reaction to his ramblings ceased any embarrassment he was currently feeling, and halted any impending embarrassment he would have surely suffered from. Even the tantalizing thought that she had read the more intimate part of his poem subsided as he focused on her reply.

She was indeed an intelligent woman. Ash had so often been one to casually dismiss his philosophical notions, but in a way that was less out of boredom and more because he didn’t want Zur to get so wrapped up in his story only to have Ash not have a clue as to what he was saying. Zur respected that. He would feel embarrassed if he let someone go on about something only to have them want a response from him. And how would he respond if all that had passed in and out of his ear was complete and utter jargon? A swift bob of the head or raise of the shoulders? A white lie of agreement or disagreement?

But with Yeva, it appeared as though she understood. She nodded at all the right moments, her facial expressions appealed to the fact that she was very much absorbed in the material and she even waited respectfully until he had finished talking or had given pause before she said anything.

Interrupting had its moments, but most of the time it irked Zur when his train of thought ran into a brick wall due to someone’s noticeably louder voice. He was no hypocrite either. He never stopped someone unless he had a question that needed addressing then and there lest he fall deeper into a pit of misunderstanding which would thus bring him back to the predicament he had mentioned earlier.

He studied the way Yeva’s murky eyes shimmered, the candle light from the wall’s illuminating some deeper autumn tones within her irises. He watched the way her nose crinkled slightly when she referred back to a memory she had a difficult time fully recalling. He even got side tracked by the infinitesimal curls of her hair which were wound so tight he wondered if he could even loop his index finger through one.

The mention of souls, however, reigned his attention back to what she was saying. His eyes gravitated down to his hands as if he held the universe there and was looking for answers.

“I think that’s a legitimate theory, yes. Maybe we mix our consciousness with our spiritual essence. I’ve had very lucid dreams myself, so real in fact that I’m certain they are more reality than fantasy.” He wasn’t confident enough to mention the capability he had to dream walk. “Sometimes I have this sensation where I’m dreaming, but I am awake. It feels much like being drunk and high at the same time, if you can relate to that.”

By implying that he drank and experimented with recreational drugs make him seem any less of a person? He knew of some people who were raging alcoholics and it was because of this that Zur couldn’t help but lose some respect for them. It was possible they were alcoholics due to some underlying problem, but it was also possible that they had nothing better to do with their time and gave into their addictions out of weakness; it was the latter that evokes feelings of disgust in Zur.

But here and now he truly hoped Yeva didn’t think of him with any less respect that she did upon first meeting him. He was merely being open; using a reference to an activity many people had done only proved to enhance the point he was trying to make, or so he thought.

“I suppose it also comes down to your spirituality and religious experience. I for one whole-heartedly worship Yvithia and therefore have a need to understand the world. By doing that, I can honestly say I haven’t dismissed the possibility of souls or a world in which they go to.”

It hit him then. Perhaps his musings about mind and matter boiled down to the physical and the spiritual. There was the body and there was the soul. The brain in a vat was the body of which a soul or consciousness occupied. He mentally inscribed a note to himself to not forget this revelation before watching as Yeva got up from her seat.

She gently passed his back his journal as she stood. Zur had retained some memory of his poem and widen his eyes upon remembering it. Had she read it? He searched her face but found no obvious signs that indicated she had. Zur let out a small sigh of relief as she came closer to him.

“Can I touch you?” She asked, holding the bandage that had been sitting on the table.

Zur swallowed a lump that had magically manifested in his throat. There had been no mention of touching! But what did it matter if she touched him? Aside from his possibly cold skin, what issue could there be? The only part of him that had been perspiring was his hands and he had long since rubbed them against his pants in hopes that they’d dry quicker that way. Heck, even Ash hadn’t touched him in over a week, which while not surprising as they hadn’t had enough free time to do anything together, still evoked a sense of longing for physical contact.

Zur nodded his head. “That’s fine.”

Before she managed to use him for any demonstrations, he quickly grabbed his writing utensil and journal. After flipping to a new page, he began scribbling the information Yeva had just told him.

“What happens when a shoulder dislocates?” He asked, trying to imagine what that would look like. Oh gods, she wouldn’t demonstrate the process of a dislocation on him would she? He scoffed then. Of course she wouldn’t.

“Before you answer,” he said, remembering his part of the deal. “One of my most favourite words in the ancient tongue is Olepheria.”

He found her eyes and willed his mind to communicate with hers. Telepathically, he murmured softly so as not to scare her, “It means beautiful.”

[Yeva]

12 Saun 720

His voice was soft, but it rustled like light breeze in her consciousness; a gentle secret that made her hands fumble with the wrapping as a blush deepened upon her cheeks. "Olepheria," she repeated, looking away from his gaze. He sounded in her mind, just as Nir'wei had been in Faldrass, but that had been Cassion's handiwork. This had felt different. But, still familiar. Yeva had heard him, she was certain, "Did you..." How was she to word her next question? Yeva backpedaled in her words, blanking on what she had intended to say regarding shoulder dislocation as the space between them suddenly felt much smaller, "Are you magic?"

'Can you read my thoughts?'

Then the realization of such a thing occurred to her, and her stomach dropped. Was there a magic that allowed mind reading?

And if he could read her mind...

Oh gods... What if she thought something embarrassing?

Yeva's back suddenly went rigid and she grasped for any train of thought that wouldn't lead her accidentally revealing something overtly personal about herself, just in case. Like the piercings.

"It's fine if you're magic," she suddenly blurted, "I, ah.. I know mages, They're all nice. But... Um... It's just-" she winced, chewing her bottom lip. "You were... in my mind?"

I'm sorry.
"I'm sorry."

Anxious laughter bubbled from her chest, "You caught me off guard, is all. I get flustered a bit easily when speaking." Yeva hoped he understood - it wasn't his fault, just a quirk she had been working to overcome, "When it's really bad, I tend to stutter. It's not so common these trials, but in Scalvoris I was lucky enough to meet my idol. Faith Augustine... She's enormously kind, but... I must have sounded a mess, just like when I was a small girl. So, well... I forgot where I was going with this. "

If it wasn't stuttering, it seemed to be ranting. Yeva sighed.

Listening should he speak, the woman rested a hand upon his shoulder, allowing her side of the lesson to begin in earnest once it was her turn once, "This is your clavicle, known as your collarbone," her fingertips pattered upon the bony rise sliding up and over his shoulder to flatten a palm comfortably against his back, "This is the scapula, or shoulder blade. Then the last bone, here, on your upper arm is the humerus. Well, there's a socket where they meet, like a little pocket that keeps your arm in place. If something forces against it too hard ...it just sort of..."

Yeva stepped to his side, full lips pressing together and exploding outward in a pleasant but distinct, *pop* sound. She grinned, her freckled cheeks still rosy as she peered at the philosopher's face, "So, when that happens it has to be set back in place, and then rested... That's where the sling comes in. Hey, Zur'lei..."

Her voice softened, "Have you met Yvithia? Is that how you learned Ancient?" It was just a curious guess, one she inquired while her hands moved in easy practice, opening the cloth strip to form a wider surface, slipping beneath his arm and up across his shoulder. It seemed her nerves and apprehension from his earlier telepathy had begun to pass, the woman comforted the more she talked about familiar topics, "I'm going to reach behind you now; this particular wrap is called a triangle sling." Yeva leaned forward in a waft of peppermint and sage, pressing Zur's (imaginary) [arm] injury against his chest and pulling the broad cloth up, where she reached around him to tie a knot at the base of his neck, fingers nimble.

"Tell me if it's too tight," she muttered, dark eyes focused on forming a bow beyond his shoulder. Up close, it was tempting to steal a glance at the scar that had caught her attention during introductions but she knew it was rude to stare. Was her hair tickling cheek? She should have bound it up this morning before leaving!

"Almost got it..." Yeva gave a quick tug and the knot was set, "Perfect!" she pulled back, smiling broadly and clapped her hands. Although she should have pinned the rough edge sticking out, closest to his elbow, it was a nice start to begin with. Hopefully.

"You want to give it a try? It's easy, I promise."

Behind her, Yeva motioned to her bag on the other edge of the table and the chair beyond, "I can take a seat and you can tell me more pretty words. It'll be fun practice for both of us. Theory is important, but some things are better when you learn by doing."

► Show Spoiler

Sorry for the delay, week's been draining! I've been wanting to reply for days now (because I'm having a ton of fun), but struggled to piece together some decent words. Apologies in advance for the post being a bit all over the place, but I hope you understand. If you have any questions or I didn't explain things very clearly (I wouldn't be surprised), I'm happy to answer. :)

[Zur'lei]

Saun 12, 720

Zur immediately regretted his decision. Of course she knew he had the mark of Xypha, but did she know the capabilities it granted him? Would she understand that his playful attempt at showing off was meant to be impressing and not creepy?

His mind raced with pros and cons to his actions. He had just gotten to know the woman and now it was very plausible that he had just lost his opportunity at a friendship. Like a bud attacked by a frost, there would be no coming blossom.

His stomach began to hurt as he mulled over the consequences. On the other hand, she could have been infatuated by the fact that he possessed such incredible abilities. It was a blessing after all, not some curse that was meant to put torment unto others or unto himself. He would only hope for the time being, before she reacted, that her response would be one in his favour and not the other way around.

He made a very minute fist pump at his sides, in a position where she was unable to see unless highly astute in the art of observation. While her reaction hadn’t been entirely positive, it wasn’t very negative either.

He was indeed magic. But was his blessing the only thing that gave him power? His mind had been a melting pot of hypotheticals and conspiracies, of contemplation and rumination, and it was his mind, with or without the gift that made him so unique. And being unique was in itself magical enough wasn’t it?

Upon noticing her unease, Zur sent himself to calm her worries.

“Fortunately, the link is not dual sided. I am only able to offer my thoughts and not receive them. I would never invade others’ privacy in that regard.”

Was he helping things or making them worse? By forcefully inserting his words into another's' mind, was that not an invasion of privacy? Of course it was only after he had breached the link that he thought of these possible repercussions.

He was no mage though.

He was actually quite glad of the turn of events. He had meant to be charming, sending a little whisp of insight her way by the way he had said the ancient word but often got cold feet after the fact. He didn’t know what he would have done if she had been weirded out by that over the fact that he had just spoken to her via his mind.

While he was a flirtatious individual, though with no interest in females, he always liked to come across as charming. However, more often than not, things would inevitably fall short. He chalked it up to luck, or the lack thereof.

His eyes grew wide at her monologue. Not because he was taken aback with boredom, but because he was surprised that they shared so much in common. He was an anxious lad who many a times couldn’t stop his tangents. Had he not randomly spoken something of the philosophical only moments ago? And she had received it so kindly. He needn’t feel obligated to give her the same in return, he wanted to.

“I too can get caught up in my thoughts. Sometimes I don’t know when to stop talking. I think it just shows how considerate you are in trying to make your point without offending the person you’re talking to. But you need not worry. I understand entirely where you’re coming from. I shouldn’t have done what I did without first asking for permission.”

She watched her begin her demonstration. He wondered if she saw him for who he was or as a skeletal prop as she worked. The terminology that flowed out her mouth was otherworldly.

Zur was someone who sought knowledge of all kinds. It was practically his life force. He loved to learn. Therefore, he soaked up each and every letter, each and every sentence that exited her lips.

He applied mnemonics to enhance his learning. The clavicle to him sounded sharp, as was the collarbone it referred to. As he felt Yeva’s fingers trace the outline of his scapula, he couldn’t help but be reminded of a scoop, or some variation of. Both words started with the letter ‘s’ and therefore would make for easier remembering in the future.

He let her dress him, entranced by her movements. She seemed so confident and her closeness made him feel special.

He diligently observed her work on the triangle sling. Once she had bound him, and fortunately not too tightly, he nodded his head after having been offered a turn at the sling. He unbound himself and set to work on Yeva, trying to maneuver the cloth so it would resemble the way it had on him.

“I have met Yvithia, though it had felt almost like a dream. She was beautiful in an ethereal kind of way. Her voice had whispered to me much like I had to you earlier. My body started to feel things it hadn’t before and my mind felt like it was being utilized for the first time.”

The words dribbled off his tongue like honey as he fumbled in tying the knot of the sling. He hoped it was just as tight as his had been, but not any tighter. By the looks of the angle of her arm, he could tell had done a poor job in comparison.

“This marking and the telepathic abilities associated with it weren’t the only things she gave me, however. I felt more attuned to language and the sciences. The ancient tongue among a few others cane easily for me, but she implicitly expressed the need for me to share my wisdom with others.”

He smiled, for that was exactly what he was doing now. Instead of continuing to speak in the language, he opted to draw his journal near and write out a few words of the script. His writing utensil swooped in elegant arches and sent dashed through straight lines as he wrote out a simple, yet all important saying.

He pushed the journal closer to Yeva so she could read what he had written.

“This is a phrase everyone is familiar with and should most likely be the first thing anyone should know. It’s a greeting and can be interpreted as the common saying, ‘hello, how are you?’”

“Do you have any blessings,” he quickly added, curious to know if she had any since she knew of Yvithia and quite possibly other immortals and their analogous marks.

“Behfene is also another favourite word of mine. It means ‘to ponder’, and i'm sure you have noticed that I do such a thing fairly often.”

He smiled brightly. He was having so much fun learning from and exchanging information with Yeva. He hoped this would not be the only time in which they would get together. She had a comfortable presence, a lofty air that affected him in positive ways, and it made him thirsty for more of her.

In order to keep the conversation in motion, but also aware that he should allow her some time to process what he had given her and respond, he softly asked what one would do they had sprained their wrist.

“Would they use a triangle sling as well?” And further still: “What even is a sprain?”

ooc

There’s no worry needed! I understand reality’s craziness and am glad you’re back. I, too, am having a blast and my thoughts on writing with you can surly be expressed by my character. Writer’s block happens to the best of us. I hope I’m doing a good job of reciprocating the amount of information you’ve been giving Zur!