• Solo • To Storms Ahead

A prologue

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Ilied Loraeva
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To Storms Ahead

123 Ashan 716
"Wait for me!"

The last, late lights of Ashan warmed the earth, having long bleached the paths of stone and wood, and now the jeering of gulls reached across Ne'haer. Carried on the salt-sweet wind, their cries reached the ears of all on the docks.

"No! Hurry up!"

Laughter cut through the streets and alleys. Echoing footsteps and giggles resounded through the tight path that cut through to the open harbor. A corridor of salt-bathed stone opened up to a plaza. Down a narrow flight of stairs flew a young crowd, bottles in hand. As merchants turned in for the night, these youths flooded the streets and piers. Lanterns were lit in the homes as daylight died again and a voice cried out.

"Wait for me!"

And now only the loose rattling of boarded-up stands answered. A thin, boyish silhouette pitter-pattered down the narrow stair and out towards the docks, bottle in hand too. The plaza fountain glittered light a mirror in the last lights of the day made of melding golds and violets, capturing the rippled forms that ran past. Rea shined as the last of the cutters and galleons came into port fleeing dark skies, eager for a night's rest.

Gusts lifted gulls higher, their caws not yet ceasing, and brushed their airy fingers through the youths'
hair, loose garments flowing. Another cry. No response, save more yips and jeering. The harbor gates stood wide, though even the highest ramparts could not shield Ne'haer from the coming storm. The scent of chum and salt rolled in a bit further from the marinas in salty mists.

"Wait up," he pleaded through strained breaths.

It was a straight shot across the boardwalk to the inner west tower, and the great lighthouse was just over yonder being lit and fed in excess. The walk was dark and slippery as the drizzle turned into rain. The gull calls had quieted down, replaced by the shouting of Biqaj late to port. The high walls of the harbor gates overtook the last glimpses of the open bay. He came to the last stair that reached to height of the walls. The ramps and steps were slick with grease and water from the coming-and-going of today's shipments.

He made for the stair, but stopped to catch his breath. It was a wonder that such a lithe body could breathe so heavily. He looked up to the swirling skies above and deluge that it let forth, smiling. Lips sealed themselves and pulled tight into a smirk as a sense of chagrin came over him. How silly that he had fallen behind. He'd miss it. He began to hike the last stair, his feet squeaking into his shoes with each step. He reached the top when he saw his friends already gathered at the far end. He sprinted forward, catching himself as he slipped. All manner of hoots, hollers, and howls rang out from the edge of the gate's ledge, the guards kept safe in their towers. But no, not these wild hearts. They were strung at the edge of their world drinking, kissing, and shouting, drunk on all matters of means of things. Why not? They were young.

The last of them ran up into the thick stone walls and chords that peered out into the open harbor. A hand reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt, as if to catch him from going over. At once there was a barrage of yodels out to the sea and sky and laughter and drink and paling around all together. He took another swig, his bottle half empty as it was all the while, swallowed hard, and looked out to the rising waves.

Ay-ah, his voice swooped and yipped at the top of his lungs as if to compete with the crashing waves. The storm was pouring over them, the wind blowing through them.

"This is boring!"

"Then go home!"

"This is home!"

They were calm for a moment amidst the storm. Their eyes peered eagerly out to the open water.

"Well at least we'll all be clean."

"By the divine, you are so dull."

"You promised us lightning and thunder. If I wanted a little water, I'd have just taken a surf."

"You still can if you want to…"

"Hey, hey! Stop! The rocks!"

They laughed some more, a Biqaj body, molded by the sea, pulling himself back a bit from the edge and advanced back again. Five bodies in total, they rested on the ledge, their hands rested over the mouths if their bottles.

"You know," she said, "I could leap down there right now and just float. I love being carried by the waves."

"You'd be sleeping with the Mer."

"Like she doesn't all ready…"

"You pigs!"

"It'd be more than they get…"

"What are you grinning at, Ilied? Huh? Maybe you want to go for a swim too!"

"Knock it off, you're scaring him."

"Thanks, -"

"Don't mention it-did you see?! Ilied, did you see it?" Lightning and thunder rippled across the sky only to be drowned out by the yelping once more. Ilaren's every strike fell short of the energy exuded. Drunken howls left their mouths, only to be filled with brine as the tide crashed into the walls and crashed over them. With hands firm on their bottles, they slipped away from the edge of the wall against the surging waters as the taste of sea salt filled their faces. Shouts echoed in the harbor again as this pack came together and sprinted off again. They moved slower in the rain, such that Ilied kept up much easier with his Biqaj counterparts as they moved towards the dry docks.

"Come on, Ilied," she shouted back towards him.

"I'm coming!"

And yet somehow he felt he would not go. The sea called to him through the last opening of the lake before the lighthouse blocked off the expanse. He moved to the wall and looked out, then down at the jagged rocks. Serenity washed over him and he gripped hard on the rope.

"Ilied," she cried, grabbing him, before pulling him along. He flashed a smile, laughed, and followed after as the pack sought some shelter from this storm.
Last edited by Ilied Loraeva on Sun Sep 11, 2016 3:47 am, edited 2 times in total. word count: 1063
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Ilied Loraeva
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To Storms Ahead

"What were you doing back there?"

"What?"

"At the ledge, what were you doing?"

"Nothing, I-"

"That wasn't nothing, Ilied. You scared me. Had you too much to drink?"

"No, that's not-"

"Then don't do that, all right? You scared me."

"I'm sorry..."

Lightning crackled overhead as the storm fully swept over Ne'haer. Thunder echoed in the dry docks like the bowels of a drum. Ilied's chin was held high, but he would only gaze low. The lot of them took cover under the canopy of a smaller project huddling near the bow. Once they were inside, Ilied pulled his hand away.

"What's your problem?"

"Ey, what's this? Ilied?"

Awkward looks were exchanged. The front of the pack had gotten ahead and seemed rather cheerful. Ilied and his friend exchanged awkward glances, and then to the rest of the pack.

"He's had too much to drink is all," she said, taking away Ilied's bottle without protest. "Come, sit down before you hurt yourself. Come on. There...all snug as a bug in a rug now, ya? What are you looking at?"

"I just haven't seen you so sweet for someone since-"

"Enough, you! He's just had too much to drink."

Ilied's bottle was snatched away and he soon found himself grounded in the circle. He watched as two of his new friends bashed lashes and rubbed noses in their own space. His other friend seemed to be rolling something in his fingers. As for her...

"What are you staring at, Ilied? Well?"

The pauses were far from uncomfortable, as everyone but her seemed fine with it. A spark struck in the shadows.

"You're so strange."

"Hey...don't call him names. You're not too normal yourself, especially when you've been drinking, which I see you have been, miss."

"Don't tell me what I am or am not!" Ilied watched her spring up from her seat. Though soggy and thin, her defiance was something of an inspiration. The crackling thunder suited her presence.

"Oh's that so? Then why don't you just tell us what you are!" Love birds peeked from their huddled whispers at that one. The boy at the edge was still trying to get a light when she stood up. His face first flashed contempt before dwindling back to a smirk, his hands gently hovering about the blunt.

"Very well, I'll tell you!"

Her words took off in a slur, her drunken Rakahi swelling their ears like the unrelenting storm. Somehow, what she said did not matter so much as the fire of her voice in the trembling reverberation of her voice. Like the ocean, he thought, she commanded such power that effortlessly lifted anything around it like the rising tide. He liked the way her arms swayed low and rose again with such strength and confidence. Her gestures themselves mirrored something of a swashbuckler, or maybe a knight. The drink has dulled his senses enough to make sense of it, to see before him a figure on par with the Immortal form - as he imagined it - and more so to imagine bridges of logic to make sense of it all. He picked out words from her speech, like explorer and sea, and imagined her then on a galley all her own set off to take on the world. His company, all others Biqaj, would call out when she spoke, or laugh, or scowl, and Ilied followed suit, only making a bit of sense of it all.

"Do you think you can get a light off this? Hey, Ilied, hey... Oh, look at this dumb- hey. Hey! He doesn't seem to speak a lick of Rakahi, and here you are making some drunken rant in front of him. I'm surprised he didn't run off into the storm!" The laughter that followed felt a bit more energetic than those that echoed in the wake of her slur. "Are you done? Ya, now take a seat. I think I got it now."

"I'll be damned, you roll like you fuck."

"The hell you mean by that?!"

"Sloppy...and loud!"

"Enough, you, now that can be kept between us. Sorry, Ilied..."

"All will be forgiven once he get a whiff of this."

"No, don't do that to him. It's fine, Ilied, I'm not one to smoke myself. It's just another means of burning holes in your pockets. Ain't nothing to miss there."

Even when fixed on her, he couldn't help but notice the eye roll before the blunt was passed. He smiled, and looked back between them all. He wanted to say things, smart things, or impressive things maybe, but couldn't find the words for them. Smiling seemed well enough. They'd smile back, when they peeked away from their discussions, and they didn't seem to mind the lingering of his gaze. Except her. She'd catch sight of him and sing her siren spell forever if she could. The drink seemed to go to her head a bit stronger, but he couldn't tell. He'd never been so...immersed before. He soon began to feel like there were six of himself, and the room span, and the rain outside became a veil.

"I think you've had enough, Ilied. I'll take that..."

"Watch now, Ilied, or she'll drink it on you."

"Shut up, you. I'd buy him a bottle if I did anyway." And she took off again in Rakahi, and they responded. It came second nature to them, he seemed to notice. He began to wonder what it'd be like, to think in their language, to dream in Rakahi. How does someone see themselves in the language, if not beautiful. Surely, they must, for it sounded beautiful to his ears. And then there was their looks, that sun-kissed skin and eyes like shimmering jewels. The Biqaj were gifted.

"It's like they're whispering to us in the raindrops..."

And there was more laughter, and taunting, as he'd guess, at the notion. The rain was almost out of mind before it was mentioned again, even now that it had soaked up into to much of his being. Ilied felt like water, ready to give up his human form and just meld with the puddles, and the waves, and the seas all at once.

"Aye, we're ready for rest. The storm seems to have taken over. I don't hear much more of thunder, just rain."

More taunting, and the couple left. The boy with the roll seemed to second the notion and head out as well. The remaining companions exchanged a few words.

"I want to see Ilied back safely. Would you mind, Ilied, if I walked you home?"

"No. That's fine, I-"

"Then let's go all ready. It's just going to get wetter."

Though the boy was the first one up, he'd follow behind Ilied and his friend. Though she hardly knew the way, she lead Ilied by the hand. It was dark now, with little light to guide them. The wind ceased, and the waves seemed to settle, drowned out by the fall of a billion water drops.
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Ilied Loraeva
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To Storms Ahead

The storm's tune echoed in Ilied's ears and the space between, its own blurred symphony. Rain splattered off of cobble stone all around them, gathering in massive puddles only revealed by the faint lights. Like threads, rain fell, illuminated. The trio walked along the paths like ghosts, for even the rats had long gone to rest in hiding from the dirge. The resonance of hollow wooden drums and metal buckets and pans were rattling percussion. Ilied could hear the moisture rush out from the swelling of his shoes and toes with each step if he listened carefully enough. Yet, all this seemed but silence against the booming of his heart beat.

Her hands were warm, unlike the rain, and her skin was soft. Ilied felt the weakness of his shaking grip, yet their hands never hinted of slipping apart. He peeked beside himself and wondered what was going on now under her long, soaked hair. Like curtains of the night, they hid her face as the clouds hid the stars, and poor Ilied was left without even a hinting trace, save his imagination's delight. He grinned and scoffed, and soon made to cough when she peeked up from her downward gaze. The water tricked down her brow, plummeting off her nose, and fell deep, deep into the dark pools below.

They came at last to his home, and under the overhanging cover said their good-byes. She quickly made her way back to her other friend, took his hand and was lead off. Their silhouettes faded into the veil, and Ilied was reminded now of the cold rain and empty hand. He made his way inside to a warm hearth and crackling fire. The murmur of the night crowd signaled the dying night, and soon others would be turning in as well, though not so soon behind Ilied. He made his way up the stair, seeming to not mind the irritate protests of the keep.

When he was in his room, Ilied stripped himself of the soiled garments and dried himself. It was much warmed inside, and soon he felt comfortable again under his blanket as he sat at the table. He thought to light a candle, wanting to write, but soon found himself at a loss for sense. Ilied lit a low fire at the fireplace and crept to bed. The rate at which his world was spinning began to slow and he once more felt the exhaustion of his body. The heaviness weighed over his limbs and eyes. Still, he felt lifted and eager, and flashed another grin before he turned toward the window and drifted off to sleep.

And then there was the creaking at the door...

He wasn't sure what time it was now, though it was still dark. The rain seemed to have let up quite a bit, but he could still hear that people had not left the inn. When he turned, the strange figure was already upon him, its finger clasping over his lips before he could gasp.

"Shh, it's just me," she whispered, though this did anything but calm him.

She had stripped herself and crawled under the covers with him before he could wake up to the moment. He recoiled at the touch, noticing she was quite bare.

"Do you mind? I'm sorry I didn't dry off more. I waited a bit by the fire, downstairs even. I just wanted to talk a bit more."

Ilied tried to turn his body, maybe if he faced away she'd not notice anything amiss. The bed was small enough that it was impossible to not touch each other, so he opted to rolling a bit. The blanket lay between them, though they were still snug at the shoulder and their feet could mingle. He had sacrificed the warmth on his right side and now tried to find some insulation against the bed frame.

"Do you think about it often?"

"About what?"

"Dying."

A pause.

"I don't understand how you mean-"

"Yes you do. I saw it, I saw you, when you looked over that rope. It was there, everything was right there and I saw it. Don't try lying to me, Ilied. I feel that way too sometimes. And you know it wouldn't take much more than that, just stretching over. I'm afraid of the pain though, even if would only be a second. I'm terribly afraid of the pain..."

"I think you drank too much, you shou-"

She turned to him, speaking vehemently, "Oh, don't be another one of those, Ilied, I know you're not. You're just echoing someone else's thoughts. Why can't we talk about this? Why don't we talk about this? All of these things, why don't we just talk about them?" He felt her head sink back into the pillow. He was staring at the ceiling now. The clouds had parted enough for the moonlight to reach through and light the night. "I just want to talk is all. No, I want to be heard, for someone to listen, I guess... You listen very well, Ilied. Or maybe you just don't say much, but it's all the same, isn't it?"

The rush he felt earlier now ran dry, and he was left with thoughts as blank and unmoving as the storm-less sky, still too gray for the brilliance of stars. He kept staring, daring not to glance at her.

"It's not, I don't think." She wouldn't let silence settle for even a moment. "It feels hopeless is all, sometimes. It's funny how not feeling anything can feel so...heavy. I'm tired of the routine, I think. I want adventure, but have no way out. I have people I care about, but what I want is just..."

"It's what you felt you were meant to do..."

"No, not quite like that. It's all just...silly and childish. It's a fantasy, really. Those things aren't meant for the likes of me, for the likes of us. We have people we care about - and don't deny that either, I see it in those eyes of yours - and we need to work very hard to make due. We weren't born wealthy, strong, of wise, even lucky, it seems to me. Or brave enough, for the matter, maybe. My parents can be so brave on the water, in the storms even, and believe that strength is in me too, but on the shore they are always so worried. I feel so worried. You can't trust people, and it's hard, they tell me, and it is, I can see it, and I see how others suffer. I do believe it. It is hard. I just don't get why it has to be."

"I don't think much of anyone does, to be honest."

"Oh, shush, you're always honest with me, right? No, I don't think much of anyone does either. There's so much fighting and distrust. Even the immortals, those perfect... All if it, if you think about it, all of it has ever been fighting and mistrust. It's all we ever were. And I hear so many stories of those far off places I dream of, and it's there too, fighting, war, murder. We dream of all these wonders, but there are so many horrors in the way. It's not fair...why some receive the gifts they do, to go on and see and experience all that's good in the world while we are left here, smelling like fish."

"You don't smell like fish."

"Oh the drink then, is it?"

"No, no, I mean y-"

"I don't care what you mean, Ilied, I know what you mean, I'm just so fed up with it all. I thought I couldn't take it anymore, and almost went for a swim myself on my way back to our ship, but I couldn't. And, I, I just feel I'm so...I wasn't even brave enough to do that, and I just thought I could come back here, because you got it, and you understand."

"Don't cry, please."

"Right, no, you're right, I just...I just drank too much is right. It's still not fair though, is all. It's not fair."

Ilied looked over, peeking a glance. Her hair was mostly dry, but he saw the streams that went down her cheeks. The fire was low, nearing embers and coals. She was looking up too, and he wondered what she saw. Maybe he saw it too, or she saw as he did. Ilied looked back up at the dark boards.
Last edited by Ilied Loraeva on Sun Sep 11, 2016 4:28 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 1476
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Ilied Loraeva
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To Storms Ahead

"You know," he broke in, "everyone's likely facing their own trials, whether we know them or not." It was funny now, he thought, how eager he felt to fill the silence he craved a moment ago, the one she would not let alone. How now she was there, listening, maybe - or so he hoped - waiting for an answer. He really hoped she was listening. She was right next to him, so she must be listening. Yetm somehow he felt she was gone; there was something between them, a barrier, a distance, or maybe even nothing. Somehow, nothing scared him the most. "Really though, how could we know, and even if we did know what could we possibly do about them?"

Nothing.

"How do you know that? Maybe...things were meant to be like this?"

"Like what?"

"As they are, that maybe-"

"Maybe I was meant to be born, live, and die selling fish at the edge of a marina I can't even call home?"

"That's not what I meant, you won't even let me finish!"

Nothing.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"You're right, Ilied. And I'm the one who should be sorry. I've thought about that too. Maybe it's all part of something, sure. It doesn't make it feel any better though. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be born into this, to even be like this. If I could choose for myself what I wanted, what challenges I wanted to face, then I wouldn't mind so damn much. Or, I mean - oh look, you're rubbing off - I mean, I would mind, I'd mind it more than anything that ever was, because they would be mine."

"You could just run away..."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ilied."

"I'm not. I-" She caught herself. Ilied went on,"I did. it hasn't been the best, but I did and now I do get to make those choices."

"But your family, th-"

"I weighed all of that and made my choice." His words were hushed. "And, I'll tell you, I still face struggles, some harder, some easier, than before. I don't have the same support I did at home, and it's different because of it, but it's still hard. And it doesn't stop feeling that way either, no matter what I seem to do. I'm afraid it just get harder as you go on, really, but it's just as terrifying to try to, uhm, quit - you could say - because then, well, what if, you know?"

"So then it doesn't get better?"

"I'm not saying that! I'm just saying things stay the same, in a lot of ways. I wish I knew why, I really do. I don't understand why things are the way they are and why, maybe worst of all, it always feel like we're being tested. Or why it's always a judgement with people. We speak of trials, when really, it does feel like we're all standing trial, doesn't it? You are tried, sentenced, and punished."

"Or rewarded?"

"I mean, maybe, I suppose you could be."

"And why is it that we're not, or not so often?"

"I don't know. I don't get to judge."

"No you don't. No one does. That's what I hate about it; that's what's not fair. What did we do to deserve this? A trial? What for? What am I guilty of? Why is it that no matter what I do I'm never good enough? Or, why, for that matter, do others have it so much easier than I do and get the chance to do so much more than I ever will? Who gets to decide and why? I don't, I have to live with it, but I don't and it's not fair. Yes, Ilied, even if people have their own trials, it's not fair and I hate it for that, absolutely hate it..."

There was a sting in her word... She meant it, fully, like a slow, cold blade eased through the flesh, patiently, hoping to inflict the most agony. He agreed with her, quite a bit, but somehow never felt so fully for the subject. He didn't cry about it like she did, or tear the blankets away, or shake through gritted teeth.

"So...if things are unfair now, and always will be unfair, and hard, why go on?"

"Isn't that the question. You can be, no, you can seem to stupid, Ilied. It's obvious though, isn't it? Sometimes things work out, or it doesn't feel so bad, or it's not so difficult, and you hope, maybe, if you try hard enough, it will all just stop being like that. And maybe we do get better through it all. I don't know either... I don't know if anyone truly knows. I figure whoever does wouldn't be too eager to say so, I'd think. It's their fault, if they do know these things, and do nothing to stop it."

"Things could get boring like that."

"Boring? They're boring all ready, for most of us. And that's the least of the concern, not to mention unfair. It's really not fair."

Ilied sighed. He'd lost himself in the discussion a while ago. There they were now, side by side, and warm under the blanket again. Her fury really did warm the covers, but what astounded him, in its lack of astonishment, was how they simply lay there, completely naked to each other. It wasn't fair at all, she was right, and somewhere far off someone knew - by the virtue of their imagination - what they had right now wasn't fair. Someone had it different, had it worse, and envied them now as they lay and brood together on a cold, cloudy night. It didn't make things better knowing someone had it worse, or knowing that maybe things could even get better. She was still angry, was all, that of all the things that could be, she was given this, he thought; she was given him, naked, and equally feeble and helpless before whatever powers that commanded their fates to be, leaving her so dissatisfied. And yet he was ready to oblige.

"Who do you think gets to choose, if not us?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, our parents chose to have us, sure, but they didn't necessarily choose for us to be as we are, or to suffer as we do - and will. If anything I remember of my parents, it's that they wanted anything but that, and they'd do anything they could to prevent that-"

"Yet, you left them..."

"Yet, I did - but, even those around us that we run into, whether we love them or not, they too make things better, or sometimes so very much worse... And I can't help but think, even when they act so awfully, it's not their fault. They're just doing their best, like we are, and things get difficult. Even Immortals, you might imagine, as the stories say and go, seem to like the rest of us."

"Ilied, you're confusing me."

"I just mean who is it, or what is it? Who is judge, and why are we standing trial? Have we done something wrong by just existing? And why then that even when we try to fix that, when we try to stop existing, we are still punished? I'd like to know what I did wrong, when I didn't even get to choose these things that I live with, just as you said. But, I think, more importantly, I'd like to know who gets to judge us. I know we judge one another well enough as people, but who is it that really gets to judge us to what we are and how we'll be? Who, if it is not those around us?"

"Now, isn't that something awful to consider," she responded.

He looked at her, stunned, but she was unmoving. The epitome of calm, she was laying with her eyes shut, listening. She seemed very tired now, and somehow peaceful. He wished he could destroy her peace though; he wished to slap the smirk and snark right off of her face. She spoke as if she missed the significance of his questions entirely.

Again, she broke in, "Maybe it is just us."
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Ilied Loraeva
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To Storms Ahead

They laid there for a moment, staring. Ilied's curiosity for the thoughts inside here was washed away in a surge of hurt, confusion, and rage. She said she saw what he did, she said she understood, yet here she was so seemingly unaware of-
"Thank you for listening, Ilied." She turned to him. Ilied felt the blood and heat drain out of his face and a sickness settle in his gut. He clenched the cover weakly. "I feel better now…for now, anyway." She scoffed, but Ilied remained unmoved.

"Would you mind turning around?"

Ilied affirmed her request and turned himself over to face the wall, pulling the cover along with him. He felt his fingers slowly coil around the fabric, gripping harder with mixed intent, wanting to hold on to the blanket and rip it apart all at once. The tension spread through him, his jaw clenching.

"All done. Thank you again, Ilied. Good night."

Ilied turned over. "Good night, Da-" The tension gravitated to his stomach and twisted.

"You forgot my name, didn't you?"

"I-I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Ilied. Good night."

"But what's your name," he nearly shouted.

"Come by the harbor tomorrow and look for me. I'll remind you then, when we're both a bit more sober." She was out the door by the time she finished, leaving only the wisp of her giggle and soft steps.

Ilied laid a moment longer, staring. The night's light had shifted to the far wall, barely breaching the window of his room. The room was cold again, and Ilied felt the tension of his boy fade. It was heavy again, heavy on his limbs and his eyes. His head begged for union with his pillow, to just lay there and be unmoved until the suns burned cold. The weight of his chest made it hard to breath, each breath in becoming shorter and shorter until he'd stop for a time and lay there, staring. Empty room. Black walls. Darkness. Silence.

He took a breath in, feeling the cool air over his coarse lips, over a dried tongue. His breaths were steady once more, though shallow. The numbness in his mind became a new shroud that lay over him and lulled him to sleep.
***
1 Ymiden 716
Ilied woke up not remembered how he had gone to sleep. The visit from last night held feelings of discomforting familiarity. His routine was as normal, though slower and achy. The light was harsh, and the echo of Ilauren's fury still thundered in his head.

On his way to the bank, he recalled what she had said about a name. Ilied took the time to make his way to the harbor, his steps quickening as the trills fluttered by. Port was busy this time of day, and it was difficult to make out faces; not to mention, his memory of hers was dark and damp, not the plain light that showed now. He could not see her, though she likely saw him, some fool standing in the way as the people got on with their lives around him. He stopped dead in the midst of the movement and looked out once more, along the docks, and then again to the rocks that still held against the waves (though they were gentler now). He looked down and then turned back towards the bank for work. Jovira turned away from the crowd and returned to her work as well.
Last edited by Ilied Loraeva on Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:51 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 584
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Niv
Approved Character
Posts: 648
Joined: Sat May 21, 2016 5:16 pm
Race: Yludih
Profession: Tiny Sage
Renown: 101
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Wealth Tier: Tier 1

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Story= 5/5
Well told and interesting as always.
Structure= 5/5
The only thing I can say is that you should have made it clearer who was talking, if you don't want to name them or keep it vague you could use brown haired boy or the stockiest of the three instead of "he" for all of the nameless boys.

Lore:
Endurance: deep breaths.
Etiquette: Sitting to close to the edge can make others nervous.
Psychology: listening and asking questions
Psychology: Talking about uncomfortable subjects.
Psychology: dealing with another persons depression.
Meditation: Someone always has it worse.
Meditation: Staying calm during anothers distress.
Meditation: Who is the judge and why are they so cruel
Smoke only burns holes in your pockets.
Lying in bed naked with a nameless girl, Classy.
Jovira: Full of fire
Jovira: Deep thinker






Art credit to Yoshitaka Amano
word count: 144
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