Placeholder A Palliative Start

Placeholder for Yeva's Starter Quest (which I *definitely* did not forget about).

The "City of Slaves", sitting amidst the jungle terrain of the Crescent Peninsula, is a hotbed of simmering hatreds between the oppressed humans and their arrogant, winged avriel overlords. With each free citizen or visitor a potential slaver or sympathizer, and with the veiled presence of the cruel Cult of Valtharn, how long before rebellion erupts?

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Yeva
Approved Character
Posts: 395
Joined: Thu May 16, 2019 1:23 am
Race: Human
Profession: Medic | Cryptographer
Renown: +255
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Wealth Tier: Tier 5
Medal count: 11

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A Palliative Start

Fri Jan 31, 2020 2:46 pm

12 Vhalar 719


Yeva sat cross legged on the disheveled mattress with an embroidery hoop nestled in her lap. She was pulling apart a floss of yellow thread and softly singing a song from the taverns of Rharne,

"When your head is hurtin' and your mouth is dryyyy,
Have a drink, dear boy
Have a drink, dear boy...

And when ya lady's lonely
and the babe begins to cryyyy
Have a drink, dear boy
Have a drink, dear boy..."

The arcs are getting longer, and the end is on the nighhh,
Have a drink, dear boy,
Have a drink."


As her craft demanded more of her attention, Yeva's singing softened to a hum that resonated off the cavern walls, mingling with the steady hush of thread pulled through grey linen. More than once she had to stop and pull out her stitch, struggling with the french knots. Pulling the thread up through the back of the cloth, she tucked the sliver of sharpened against the working thread, "Wrap the thread around twice..." Yeva carefully twisted, "And pull back down the fabric next to the working thread." Keeping a bit of tension on the thread, she held it as she pulled until it was nearly gone and then released, grinning when a little knot dotted the fabric. She liked the bit of texture and already began practicing a few more, the stitches not meant for any particular image, just practice. These would make good detailing for eyes or maybe polka dots. Maybe even the stamen for flowers - inspiring the redhead with ideas for adding texture to her needlework.

After a few more attempts to solidify the knowledge, she tried to make a bigger one, wrapping the thread around the needle three times before passing the needle back through. Little yellow freckles dotted her handiwork and she thought she could change the color, fancying the idea of turning her practice into a field of flowers, "Yeva!"

Azrael's sudden shout and landing at their cave entrance sent her jumping to her feet, heart pounding as he tore through the room like a whirlwind. He closed the space between them quickly and tore the craft from her hands, shoving it into a trunk.

"What's wrong?!"

"Get up!" he ordered, throwing the comforter to the ground and snatching her upper arm with such force she cried out as he dragged her from the bed and began yanking her towards the back room, "Go hide!" His silver eyes flashed towards the door and he ignored her, shoving her behind the curtain and stopping only to glare at her throat, "Where's your collar?"

She hesitated and he barked again, "YEVA. WHERE IS IT?"

He was unrecognizable and his fury stole her voice. She pointed to the chest at the bed, "In there."

The Avriel cursed, shoving her back behind the curtain where she stumbled, "You only speak Dehasin to me, you understand?" Was that fear in his voice? Something was wrong but she said nothing, he wasn't acting himself.

"Az, what's-"


"Dehasin!" he snapped, yanking the separator back and shoving the leather collar into her hand, "You have to listen to me. My..." he glanced over his shoulder, talons clicking rapidly together, "My sister's coming."

Yeva blinked, "Seket?"

He shot her a look, shoving away any sign of her existence away and she shrunk back. This was serious. Perhaps a huge moment of her disguise; she needed to make sure Seket believed she was truly Azrael's slave. With difficulty Yeva tried to recall any words in Dehasin she could, stomach dropping when the sound of landing sounded at the door. She was here.
word count: 631
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