• Closed • Cold It Blows, So It Goes

Seated on the shores of Lake Lovalus, Rharne serves as the home of the Lighting Knights, the Thunder Priestesses, and the Merchant's guild. This beautiful trade city is filled with a happy and contented people who rarely need an excuse to party.

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Alistair
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Cold It Blows, So It Goes

Mon Jan 14, 2019 5:35 am

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35th of Zi'da, Arc 718

It was bitter cold. He loathed it every trill - for the intensity of the winds, and the howling frost that settled into every bit of moisture he allowed to grace his lips. The man was covered all in thick garments; a long white-grey coat with fur mounted upon the shoulders, and around the wrists. Two layers of pants made and refined from quality wool, and black boots far adjusted from the regular suede material he'd sported in the city streets. Beneath the thick white coat was a burly vest, and beneath that another shirt of cloth. His lips were covered in a material almost like a quilt, and wrapped around the back half of his head was what appeared to be a scrunched up hood.

He was shivering. Since the last time he'd met Nir'wei, he'd mutated, a lot. A whole plethora of changes manifested; his shadow had become animated, and often quite visually murdered other shades lingering from people's feet. His blood had drained, and had been replaced with an amber-shaded jelly, sticking to his muscles and veins and refusing to leave his form. His eyes... well. Away they were from the nebulas, and now instead a full tidal blue, swirling endlessly with the flow of magic. There were other changes manifest, too; his hands and fingers which now appeared almost painted in skeletal tones, undead which grew with etheric lines...

Most of all, the blood he'd lost had resulted in the most impact. His functions were all truly the same - it was only three things that seemed of major difference. One, he could no longer be poisoned or given any disease which flowed through the blood. Two, he could not die from blood loss... and three, most inhibiting, was his vulnerability to the frost. Alistair's body grew from warm to frigid within a short breath of time, and the season of Zi'da had become truly unsuitable for him. Cylus, he'd imagine, would be a true nightmare. Already wearing three to four thick layers at all times, atop what was already his thick insulating layer of muscle, he thought he'd be able to tolerate this cold. But it was grueling. Survivable, but grueling nonetheless.

"Let's see, the men by the barracks told me he'd be..." the mage trailed off. They were outside the bounds of the city, at the edge of a forest which followed out from the riverbed. Right at the edge was an expansive clearing, akin to a whole set of plains that followed into hills, and further forestry farther out. Where the edge first met the plains, he was told he would find Nir'wei. It was a truly enchanting location, and Rharne had not yet been concealed in snow, so the look of it all was ever greener. It was pristine, with the lightest tips of frost among the grass, and the numbing frost invoking a feeling of purity. In a way, despite his own sense of anguish at the surrounding conditions, he did in fact enjoy it. And it was worth it, to meet again an old friend, if one considered past cycles a considerable distance of time.

Finally, he saw a tent, and heard plenty the ardor of beasts. Animals - likely domestic ones. When they came into view, he could discern them all individually, with the mighty Sohr Khal a gracious and familiar sight. Alistair faintly grinned.

Stepping towards the tent, the mage began to kneel, pressing his knees against the branch-covered forest floor with an unlit campfire behind him. Beginning to slowly peel the entrance to the tent open, the mage began to speak, his voice surely resounding through the small chamber where Nir'wei might have been laying.

"I came like I said I did, my friend. Your favorite naked, grass-laying, 'Lotharro' who isn't actually one... and this time I'm wearing clothes. I missed you."
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Nir'wei
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Re: Cold It Blows, So It Goes

Thu Jan 24, 2019 10:52 pm

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The other Initiates simply didn't understand it. They asked, over and over, why he wouldn't want to live in the barracks like all the others, when bedding was free, meals were provided, it was close to all the other facilities, well-protected... the list of benefits went on and on until they turned blue in the face, and yet he still refused. There was one very simple, very clear rule, and on that he disagreed vehemently. No pets. Sure, that wasn't the only reason he turned his back on them all, but it was the only one he felt he really needed to say, even as they all told him that he could just have his pets put somewhere else every night instead, or perhaps just get rid of them altogether, since they were causing so many issues. They just didn't understand the value. Most of those that had chosen the barracks as their home didn't have much of a family to rely on, or they would have stayed at home. Perhaps one day they might. But it didn't matter. He would choose to brave the frigid cold with them over the comfort and warmth without, and that was that.

But Karem above, it was cold. Even the wolves were feeling it, huddling closer against one-another for comfort, all of them tucked tight into a lump with Nir'wei at the center. Vabina was squeezed in tight against Cold, forepaws tucked under her body in a very cat-like gesture and a placid look on her face. Traveller dominated the remaining space, struggling to avoid stretching his neck and undoing all the hard work Nir'wei had put into creating a comfortable space for them all. Obviously the tent hadn't been enough; even his wolves were beginning to crowd that thing out, and it was in sore need of some repairs and upgrades after arcs of rough use all up and down Idalos. The best he could manage, after erecting the tent and piling it with all the winter duvets and blankets at his disposal, was to shield the larger beasts from the harsh winds by creating a canvas barrier stretched tight between the trees, redirecting the chilled air flow and creating a little pocket just about large enough to start a medium-sized fire from all the nearby debris. It didn't seem like much, but it was certainly doing the job at least, and he'd been sure to re-purpose the heavily-quilted horse blanket once used by Malice for Traveller, since he lacked the incredibly thick pelt of the Zephyrus.

Altogether, it made for a comfortable little spot, if he did say so himself. It was just starting to warm up a little too, when he heard the first noises from outside the tent. A few warning growls, in part to warn those approaching and to warn Nir'wei and the others. Greyhide's head raised and he started to growl too, but as a hand drew back the tent's flap, it turned to a curious sniff of the air. "Oh, gods," the wolf laughed in Nir'weis mind. As the stranger introduced himself, Nir almost found himself saying the exact same thing out loud.

"Well, isn't this awkward." He hadn't really been expecting visitors, and since clothes would only get in the way of sharing body heat as they were, Nir sat cross-legged on a very nice blanket of organised clothes, entirely in the nude, all three of his wolves arranged around him so that he could rest his back on Myrth, while Cold and Greyhide pressed in on either side. "While I do greatly appreciate the gesture... erm, next time, a word of warning would be nice." They'd seen all there was to see, of course, but it still didn't stop the awkward moment from lighting a fire in Nir'weis cheeks as he covered himself with both hands. "Come on in, make yourself comfortable, erm. If you can." All the wolves dwarfed the space and left very little for Alistair to move around inside, and the gentle light of the tent plunged most of the insides into a near-darkness... which, of course, made all of Alistair's new glowing bits all the easier to spot. "I see you've, well. Grown." He didn't quite know what to say. The man wasn't exactly subtle, in any respect. Fascination flared his curiosity, but he didn't dare pry, lest he accidentally knock upon some forbidden door of the etiquette of mages.
word count: 780
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