• Closed • The Living Among the Dead [Elyna]

Graveyard Meeting

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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Quincy Andaris
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The Living Among the Dead [Elyna]

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Arc 716, 3rd Trial of Ashan
The grey, cloudy sky so clearly reflected the emotions that churned within the young nobleman. The scent of rain was in the air, the atmosphere charged with energy, a storm brewing above. The third in line to acquiring the title of Baron, trudged slowly through the slightly overgrow grass, stones protruding from the ground carved into tombstones, names and dates etched into the surface of each. He was alone in the city’s graveyard that sat just outside the outer walls.


Today was the hardest trial of the arc for him. It was the trial his mother died four arcs prior.


It was the beginning of the downward spiral that sent him on the path he now found himself on. It started out small, spending more and more time away from home, distancing himself from his family that so reminded him of her. The family she had fought so hard to keep together. He slowly began to transition after time passed and began spending his time in the wine cellars, the place Mary and he sampled new wines that came in, gossiped and bonded over. It made him feel close to her again. Like she never left.


But then as more time went by, he realized he was tasting wine with a ghost. She was gone. And he was alone.


That’s when it got really bad. The tasting turned into drinking and the drinking into heavy consumption. It began affecting his day to day responsibilities and he became lethargic, sarcastic and indifferent. His father, began to notice which brought on the regular fighting, further distancing them and hardening their relationship. It was Mary that had kept them united. But without her, there didn’t seem like much hope for them.


Quincy came to a stop in front of a small gate and waist high fence. He unlatched it and stepped towards the stone structure that housed her remains. The baron had built it for her in her honor. The nobleman stepped past the pillars that stood beside the door and placed the flowers he carried down in front of it gently.


“Tulips were always your favorite, Ma.” He spoke softly, gaze downcast. “Eli and Jared wanted to come but they…they were busy.” He didn’t know where either were. They almost acted as though their mother never existed. He rarely saw his family, whether intentionally or because of conflicting schedules, he never knew. Nor really cared for that matter. They may have all lived in the same home but one would never know it.


He could feel his eyes filling up with tears as he looked at the etchings in the stone, ‘Mary Elizabeth Andaris, 662 – 712 Arc, Beloved Mother and Wife.' It was almost more than he could bare.


“I love you, Ma.” He couldn’t stand to be there and he all but ran to the gate, the landscaping swimming before his blurry eyes. In his haste, however, he had forgotten the gate was there. That is, until he ran into it, catching his boot in the elegantly designed bars and went sprawling, the gate all but kicking him out.


Quincy laid there, on the cobblestone path, motionless, staring up at the dark clouds that hung over him. The disheveled noble rolled himself over and leaned against the now closed gate. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a flask. He typically didn't drink hard liquor, preferring wine, but it had been a rough day and the quicker he could forget about it, the better.


He couldn't even begin to think how this day could get any worst.
Last edited by Quincy Andaris on Mon Apr 18, 2016 5:19 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 617
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Elyna
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The Living Among the Dead [Elyna]

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It was a morbid place to go really, to think. But the city was so busy that it crowded out her thoughts. Elyna was dressed for the weather and the grey sky. She’d pulled her coat on over her breeches and shirt, the sleeves pulled down to the wrist. She was aware of the odd looks that bruised arms on a young woman bought and was tired of explaining it was because she was a Skyrider; and that sometimes meant bruises. Something she’d given up telling her own Mother.

Caelan Burhan. Elyna had already received the latest request for her to meet with Vaughn Krom. The answer was no, it was always going to be no. She had as much interesting in Vaughn Krom as a mouse hand in a snake. At least, hopefully they could prevent any further meetings if they worked together. Otherwise, it was inevitable that both parents would see the married by the end of the Arc. The young woman shuddered. As she approached the stone wall she pulled her hand across the rough surface, it split some of the dryer skin of her fingers and she wriggled them in the air so that the small cuts stung.

Elyna wondered, not for the first time, if it would be easier to simply tell her Mother not to bother, at all and exactly why. It was hard to give up dreams forged with someone you loved. Hard to give up the promises of a future together and tie them up as a neat little package. How could she marry anyone? When her heart was at the bottom of the ocean? And so the graveyard. There was no specific plaque for Yorath, but there was a sailor’s memorial. She had no right, nor claim to any of his memory or any recognition of the pain of losing him, because he hadn’t been hers. Yet, still when she needed space in her own head she’d found the graveyard a place that she could talk, if only out loud to herself.

It was then that the young man careened over the gate and landed in the dirt. Elyna paused in her stride and watched him pull out the small flask. It was a sentiment she could appreciate. She approached slowly, taking care not to sneak, but also not wanting to be too loud. Without an introduction she simply say down beside him on the frosty ground.

“You alright?” She turned to look at him. His hair was fascinating.
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Quincy Andaris
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The Living Among the Dead [Elyna]

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He lifted the flask to his lips, the harsh whiskey burnings it way down his throat, warming him up but not doing its intended job fast enough. His back throb where he landed and he winced. Quincy looked down at himself, checking for any damage to his clothes. He seemed to have gotten lucky, just a little dirt on his attire. His bright orange chaffon shirt almost glowed against the grey that surrounded him, peeking out from under his jacket cuffs and collar, though it contained some of the outrageous color.


Quincy blinked away the tears and pain just in time to hear a voice. He almost jumped out of his skin at the sound. He assumed he was the only one in the graveyard. Yet as he looked up, he spotted a beautiful woman looming over him. Even in his depressed state, his personality swelled to overcome it, not even gloom keeping his enthusiastic demeanor under for long.


…so do we think she saw the gracefully landing or…?


He looked her up and down, the concern written on her face, her brown eyes moving from his to his hair.


She digs the hair. I think she’s totally into me. Play it cool, man.


Quincy cocked an eyebrow up at her and grinned slightly, hoping she wouldn't notice the tear stained face.


“Who me? Oh I’m great. I just thought I dropped a nel over here. While it would have been easier to bend down and look for it, I thought it’d just be more practical to throw myself over the gate face first to get a better view.”


He looked around, playfully over exaggerating. “Yeah, nothing. Bummer.”


The Andaris lifted the whiskey to his lips and took another swig, wincing as he did so. He held out the flask, offering it to the woman. If she took it, he would stand to his feet and dust himself off or if she refused would tuck it away in his jacket and dust himself off. When he was done and straightened out, Quincy held his hand out to shake hers.


“The name is Quincy. May I have the pleasure of knowing the concerned and beautiful lady that graces me with her presence?”


Maybe at the very least, the day wouldn’t be completely miserable. He could feel the depression still lurking within but he forced the emotions and thoughts deep down. Besides, there was no way, he'd let some random woman see his pain. That was for him alone. So instead he put on his mask and allowed his charisma to do the rest. Besides, ignoring his emotions was the best policy. Ignoring them and obviously, drinking them away. But meanwhile, he had a beautiful woman to woo.
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Ely held the tip of her tongue behind her teeth, a faint smile tugging at her cheek. She joined his frantic search for gold and scanned the ice beneath her feet as though for a sign of it, humouring him.

“I’m shocked,” she admitted, dryly and accepted the drink with thanks. She twisted the flask to take a good look before taking a small swig. It burnt all the way down to her lungs and she coughed, handing it back to the man before offering him a hand up, “they call me Elyna,” she replied. His attempt at flattery caused her to tilt her head to one side “and they pay me to be concerned,” she added as a warning. She had no time for games. But she did appreciate good liquor and the opportunity to laugh. Perhaps Levinia wouldn't need to remain a sole remnant of a friend. Elyna had a brief dream of finding a partner for her white-haired companion and shook her head. They were all better off alone, surely history had taught her nothing else?

It was then that a shadow behind the nearest tree caught her eye. She lent to one side to catch a better look, “friend of yours?” she asked as they were approached by a broad shouldered youth, gripping a rusty looking long sword in his hand. It was loose in his grip and waved side to side, displaying very little control or skill.

The young man sized them both up, “the nel,” he growled and approached, raising the sword towards Quincy, “you got nel’s to drop, you got nel’s to spare. Cough up.”

Elyna glanced between the men, her own fingers curling around the short sword she’d strapped onto her belt that morning. She hesitated though, before drawing the weapon. She’d lost track of the amount of times she’d been rounded on in anger, after stepping into assist the males of her species. She’d learnt to wait and try saving their pride before their lives.

She hoped Quincy wasn’t such a fool, but then you never could tell.
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The Living Among the Dead [Elyna]

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She took the flask and took a swig, apparently not used to the harsh flavor. He smirked as she coughed and took the flask back, stowing it in his pocket. He registered her name and bowed gallantly. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why she was paid to be concerned. There was only one type of woman he knew whom got paid to be ‘concerned’ about people.


“It is a pleasure indeed. Though what is a whore doing so far from town? Surely there are no men here to pay you to be ‘concerned’.”


Quincy had no hard feelings for anyone in that profession. He'd never met one before.


I can’t imagine they made a lot of nel, though. Maybe this one does, she is pretty enough. A real waste though. Is it inappropriate to ask how much she costs? Hmm…


Before he could sate his curiosity, she spoke up and he turned to follow her line of sight. A young man came out of the woods carrying what looked, to even the nobleman’s untrained eye, a shoddy piece of equipment. He was dressed in eve shoddier clothing, clearly been living out in the woods for some time.


Quincy wrinkled his nose in disgust and slowly stepped behind Elyna, nervously. But his tongue continued to waggle, a lack of filter making an appearance as usual.

“Friends with this peasant? Have you seen what he’s wearing? Is that hemp or just straight jute you cut a few holes in and called it a shirt? That’s embarrassing, sir. At least have some decency to threaten us while not looking like you’re wearing a bag of potatoes. Elyna, back me up here.”


Poor people. Unbelievable. Always feeling like the wealthy owe them something. Quincy shook his head in dissapointment at the disheveled man.


“I won’t be coughing anything up. Because I don’t live in the woods. With birds. And lice. You have lice don’t you? I’m pretty sure I can see it in your hair from here…I think there is a soap for that.”
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Elyna blinked at the man. Never before had the young noble been mistaken for someone who would be willing to sell themselves for money. She looked down at her rough clothes, worn and slightly battered from a late night and a busy day. Maybe her Mother was right, maybe she needed to start dressing better. But that would mean an additional expense and less money for drowning her sorrows.

She almost moved away as the strange young man sidled behind her, hiding and a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. She surveyed their would be attacker for a moment, cringing as Quincy only served to make him angry. She grimaced and stepped in, beneath him. With an upward strike she made his arm swing up and took hold of the wrist, twisting as she stepped underneath the curve of his arm and bringing his wrist up behind his back. The sword clattered uselessly to the ground and the youth dropped to his knees.

Elyna held his fingers pressed against his back and looked at up at Quincy, “I’m a Skyrider,” she explained and flexed her fingertips, the young man gasped with pain and she sighed, “do you have a piece of rope…or leather? I intend to take our new friend back to the city…” she wrinkled her nose and remembers his quip about lice, then shuddered. Suddenly anxious to return home and bathe.
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The Living Among the Dead [Elyna]

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Quincy gaped in astonishment as the woman whom he had assumed to be a prostitute quickly and efficiently disarmed her opponent, forcing him to the ground with nothing but a few deft moves.


Wait, what. Did she just? Well…I guess whores need to learn a few-


‘I’m a skyrider,’ she explained, cutting off his thoughts. Understanding dawned upon his face.


“Oooooooooooh…yeah…uhhh…that’d make sense.” He looked at her then at the man who groaned in pain and then back at her, grinning widely. “Yet you still know how to make a grown man moan…”


Quincy winked at her roguishly, the excitement seemingly over. The Andaris grabbed the small flask from his jacket pocket and lifted it to his lips, letting its contents pour down his throat. He coughed once, feeling it sear his throat, its comforting warmth filling him from his stomach onward.


Sauntering over to the incapacitated man, he bent down on his heels a few paces away, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his face on his hands. He looked at the bandit and wiggled his bushy eyebrows mockingly.


“Soooooo…what have we leeeearned from this experience? Well I'll tell you. You don’t rob an Andaris, you dirty little man. If you do, the ladies come out of the woodwork's and beat your arse.” He wagged a finger in the disheveled man’s face before standing up.


At Elyna’s question, Quincy lifted his shirt, a hair stomach protruding out from under it, double checking to see whether or not he had his belt on so that both could see. He did, the belt buckle catching the light. The young noble looked up at the Skyrider, cringing slightly.


“Noooooo?”
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Elyna looked up, expression sharp as he continued his commentary. She raised a brow at him and remained silent. A simple, almost innocent mistake she could forgive, but he was now verging on the territory of being deliberately rude. The sigh that rose when he crouched down before the youth, seemed to come from her boots. An Andaris, well it explained a lot. She scanned his features again for any familial resemblance of another noble house. Surely it was there, somewhere.

She watched his attempt to hide his belt and stood up, the young man standing with her, without much choice. One hand still lightly pressing his thumb against his back she managed to unfasten her own belt with her free hand and loop it around the youth’s wrists. She checked the knot was secure and turned the young man, pointing him back towards the city.

“Lets get you checked in, lesson to be learnt – don’t try and mug people. They don’t like it,” she said, voice dry. She glanced back at Quincy as she nudged the man forward, keeping her eye on him as they trudged, “you win many hearts of fair lady with your attitude?” She held out a hand to him, wriggling the fingers. He still had whiskey left, and she had the feeling that the day was just going to keep on getting worse.
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He watched, amused as she wrestled to get her own belt off with one hand, all the while trying to contain the bandit with the other. It was an entertaining sight to behold. But eventually she got him secured. Quincy squinted at her, grinning, unable to resist taking one last shot at her.


“You say you are not a harlot, yet here you are, taking your pants off in front of not one, but two men. Scandalous indeeeed.”


He sauntered next to her as she began walking, shoving their attacker in front of them. Quincy took one last glance back at his mother’s grave, his emotions boiling up past his defenses and flashing across his face, sadness, loneliness, depression, a chaotic swirl. But he squelched it. He wouldn’t let some woman see him that way. He buried them back down where those emotions belonged. Taking his whiskey out, he took another swing of it, feeling his head buzz. Helping him to forget.


Elyna held out her hand for it and he passed it over. His mask back in place, he hooked both thumbs on his belt, his jacket open, bright orange shirt seeming to be the only cheery thing in the graveyard they walked through. He cocked an eyebrow up at her at her question, almost offended.


“My dear lady! You wound me! Women throw themselves upon me day and night. They are drawn to the carefree wit that is mine. You cannot tell me you are bored now, hmm? Not after all the fun we’ve had. I captured the bandit with your help, we drank together, we laughed. Looks like we are off to a blossoming friendship! Romance even, I'd assume.”


He winked at her.


“And what brings out such a beauty out to this dreary place?”
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Elyna fixed Quincy with another warning look, but was too preoccupied with getting their companion to walk in a straight line, to do much more than that. How dare he accuse her of such a thing again, he even knew exactly who she was now. Her grandparents would be seriously affronted if they ever found out that an Andaris had called their daughter a harlot, repeatedly. But they would never find out. Elyna had no intention of telling anyone, only perhaps to improve her wardrobe and watch her words with greater care.

“If you think I’m taking off my pants, you need your eyes checking,” she retorted and accepted the drink that was offered. The journey they made back up to the lower city was slow, she kept a tight grip on her new ‘friend’ the mugger, in case he tried to run away. But his head and shoulders were slumped, his feet dragging. She felt sorry for him, he was several arcs younger than she at least. Had he ever had much choice of vocation? Had this route of life been inevitable?

She looked again at Quincy, brow raised at his protestation. She was about to reply before humour caught her instead and she looked forward, grinning to herself, holding back a short burst of laughter as he suggested romance, “you assume far too much,” she replied, voice dry as she shook her head.

“Here?” She paused to glance at the neat rows of graves and lifted her shoulder in a shrug, “I come to talk to someone…I know they can’t hear me but at least…here I figure that if he could hear me anywhere, it would be here,” her brow furrowed in the centre and she lifted her shoulder once more, “and you? Is there anyone you’re hoping is listening? Folk don’t tend to wander graves from fun…”
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