8th of Saun, Arc 719
Company: Cervantez | Theme: Danse Macabre | Thoughts: You again | Mood: Alarmed and angry
It was a relatively rainy trial, as was usual during Saun, in Yaralon. This however didn't stop the hustle and bustle of the city all too much. It especially wouldn't stop Lorraine and Cervantez who had a good amount of things they needed to take care of. They spent a good part of the trial walking around from here to there. Traveling to and fro around one of the market places in Yaralon. They had much to procure and even more to discuss. Though they were currently discussing a much less serious, or pressing subject. A typical conversation about necromancy. Specifically about the differences between bonesong and normal necromancy.
"It is certainly quite an interesting circumstance. Why do some of us use music for our magic while others simply use their thoughts or non-musical verbal commands? One can control a thrall with either method if they have the knowledge, but to what end? It makes me wonder, for instance, the differences between your magic and mine. I practice bonesong and you do not, but what exactly are the differences between how our magics work?" Lorraine said to Cervantez her voice deepened by the mutation of her magic. The discussion was certainly quite an interesting one. Especially for two necromancers trying to pass the time as they walked from one destination to another. Though no matter how interesting the discussion, it was nothing compared to what was going to be taking place. In little more than a few bits, something quite unexpected would take place.
"I'm glad the rain has finally let up a little bit right now. I had thought th..." Her words were cut off by the strong grip of a hand on her shoulder. Without any warning and before she could even start turning to face whoever it was that had grabbed her, Lorraine's entire body was spun around. Being forcibly spun in such a way was enough to set her off balance, but then came the strike. A strong hand, which she strangely noted was likely the left of the set, came upon her face flatly. It struck her hard enough to spin her around again and push her backward. With this, the other hand released allowing Lorraine to fall to the still wet ground.
After catching herself on her arms, Lorraine lifted her right hand to place its cold moistened palm against her burning cheek. She was sure the slap had been hard enough to leave a mark. Certainly it was since it had knocked her back as it did. Though the details of the strength of slap were of little matter currently. The more pressing issue was just who had decided to do such a thing. Not only was it a slap but it was also a challenge to a duel to the death, a fact which managed to go over Lorraine's head. With her hand still set upon her cheek, Lorraine turned to look at the man who had slapped her.
Lorraine took in the details of the man. Short brown hair, a look of pure rage, dark hooded clothing which fit well for someone not wanting to be found, and an imposing figure that was both tall and strong. It took Lorraine a few trills to recognize who the man was. Not because she had forgotten what he looked like, for she had nearly every fragment of his appearance burned into her memory by rage, but purely because it was such a shock to be once again seeing him unexpectedly. Her mind was much more inclined to believe that the man was, in fact, unknown to her and purely by coincidence held the exact same appearance as her old "friend". Though looking at his eyes was enough to prove it to her. Those eyes which held so much anger, so much negative emotion. They were just the same now as they had been all those years ago in the orphanage.
Jonathan. The only person who could be accredited to be solely responsible for all the suffering she had to deal with during her stay at the orphanage. A man who she had encountered just a season before. She didn't know how he had found her, or how he had escaped punishment for his original crimes in the first place, but she knew one thing for sure. She wasn't going to place the responsibility of dealing with him on anybody else again. This time she would be the one to handle him.
"It is certainly quite an interesting circumstance. Why do some of us use music for our magic while others simply use their thoughts or non-musical verbal commands? One can control a thrall with either method if they have the knowledge, but to what end? It makes me wonder, for instance, the differences between your magic and mine. I practice bonesong and you do not, but what exactly are the differences between how our magics work?" Lorraine said to Cervantez her voice deepened by the mutation of her magic. The discussion was certainly quite an interesting one. Especially for two necromancers trying to pass the time as they walked from one destination to another. Though no matter how interesting the discussion, it was nothing compared to what was going to be taking place. In little more than a few bits, something quite unexpected would take place.
"I'm glad the rain has finally let up a little bit right now. I had thought th..." Her words were cut off by the strong grip of a hand on her shoulder. Without any warning and before she could even start turning to face whoever it was that had grabbed her, Lorraine's entire body was spun around. Being forcibly spun in such a way was enough to set her off balance, but then came the strike. A strong hand, which she strangely noted was likely the left of the set, came upon her face flatly. It struck her hard enough to spin her around again and push her backward. With this, the other hand released allowing Lorraine to fall to the still wet ground.
After catching herself on her arms, Lorraine lifted her right hand to place its cold moistened palm against her burning cheek. She was sure the slap had been hard enough to leave a mark. Certainly it was since it had knocked her back as it did. Though the details of the strength of slap were of little matter currently. The more pressing issue was just who had decided to do such a thing. Not only was it a slap but it was also a challenge to a duel to the death, a fact which managed to go over Lorraine's head. With her hand still set upon her cheek, Lorraine turned to look at the man who had slapped her.
Lorraine took in the details of the man. Short brown hair, a look of pure rage, dark hooded clothing which fit well for someone not wanting to be found, and an imposing figure that was both tall and strong. It took Lorraine a few trills to recognize who the man was. Not because she had forgotten what he looked like, for she had nearly every fragment of his appearance burned into her memory by rage, but purely because it was such a shock to be once again seeing him unexpectedly. Her mind was much more inclined to believe that the man was, in fact, unknown to her and purely by coincidence held the exact same appearance as her old "friend". Though looking at his eyes was enough to prove it to her. Those eyes which held so much anger, so much negative emotion. They were just the same now as they had been all those years ago in the orphanage.
Jonathan. The only person who could be accredited to be solely responsible for all the suffering she had to deal with during her stay at the orphanage. A man who she had encountered just a season before. She didn't know how he had found her, or how he had escaped punishment for his original crimes in the first place, but she knew one thing for sure. She wasn't going to place the responsibility of dealing with him on anybody else again. This time she would be the one to handle him.