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valoirs
valoirsEdited 2019-08-13 15:37 (UTC)
[ ooc: he might snark-- but I don't! Open to shippy type stuff as well as gen-- I just love him, ngl ]
Edited 2019-08-12 19:05 (UTC)
[ info in construction on her journal but should have all pertinent details. All ShB spoilers are fine, let me know if you have any other preferences? ]
I'm happy to play with other WoLs, having Hoju here be Echo-blessed but not The WoL ™️, or just as a plain ol' scholar. m/m for shipping, otherwise totally OTA! Shb spoilers are a-ok, and prose or brackets are both fine!)
[ ᴏɴᴇ ]
Just above the beach that spans one length of the Mist housing district sits a modest home. Behind a hedge fence is a carefully tended garden, replete with ponds, a fountain, a couple of unique and curious artifacts, and a bench on which to take it all in.
Perhaps you are here to take in the beauty of the garden, shelter under the awning from the rain that occasionally beleaguers the beach, or have heard the occupant has a penchant for taking in wayward strays in need of home or helping hand. Or, perhaps you simply have business with the owner (one Hoju Wysseyhasyn, scholar and craftsman). Regardless of wherefore you come, all are welcome.
[ ᴛᴡᴏ ]
This was his home, once: Idyllshire.
It was Sharlayan, then, a colony of some of the greatest minds the eight races had to offer. The Garlean threat had driven most back to the motherland, including Hoju's own family. Now, some fifteen years later, much of the Hinterlands lay in ruins. Idyllshire, though, has been raised and renewed in a remarkable testament to cooperation. Pleased to see his childhood home thriving, the Sharlayan expatriate cannot help but lend hand where he is able. Admittedly, his free time his rare, but today is one such day. He might be picking through the dangers of Saint Mocianne's arboretum, making deliveries for Adkiragh or Zhloe (just don't ask him about pineapple pudding).
Then again, after a day of work, the quiet solace of the view behind Stickqix's Bangpots, or the fountain at the Snail are a welcome respite.
[ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ]
Tag me with a starter of your choice!
[ Cehd'ra hadn't wanted to leave, not yet. As fraught as his adventures in Norvrandt had been he'd come to love this land and her people. Though now he was the Warrior of Darkness, for most of his time here he was no one and nothing was expected of him by most folk. The only ones who did know were his friends who were ready and willing to step in and help him carry that burden, even when failure loomed so terribly close. He couldn't even bring himself to resent the fact that he had little choice for when has he ever?
More than that, however, was the fact that the call for help came from someone he'd thought he would never see again.
He knew who the Exarch truly was the moment he finally saw him in the flesh. How could he call himself miqo'te and forget someone's scent? Yet the longer the Exarch kept his face hidden the more Cehd'ra began to doubt. Did he not remember who he was? What reason could he possibly have to hide? Finally seeing his face atop Mt Gulg, being able to call him by name, knowing that he'd finally been given another chance...only to have him snatched away again? Cehd'ra came dangerously close to succumbing to the Light that day.
That they both survived is a miracle that Cehd'ra does not want to squander. He's done that too much in his life, held himself back only to watch helplessly as the chance for something more slips away forever. This time he's learned his lesson. But he does still have responsibilities, they both do, so it was with his head held high and a plan already forming that he stepped through the portal, returning to the Source.
A few days later he comes back, warping in next to the Crystarium's Aetheryte with a long, curved package tucked under his arm. With only a quick glance around to orient himself Cehd'ra wastes no time in running, not walking, towards the Dossal Gate and back to the Crystal Tower. The guard isn't that surprised to see him, it's not as if he knew just how far Cehd'ra really went last he left. ]
To the Occular?
[ Cehd'ra can only nod 'yes', suddenly finding it more difficult than usual to catch his breath. He's nervous as the guard escorts him up. ]
More than that, however, was the fact that the call for help came from someone he'd thought he would never see again.
He knew who the Exarch truly was the moment he finally saw him in the flesh. How could he call himself miqo'te and forget someone's scent? Yet the longer the Exarch kept his face hidden the more Cehd'ra began to doubt. Did he not remember who he was? What reason could he possibly have to hide? Finally seeing his face atop Mt Gulg, being able to call him by name, knowing that he'd finally been given another chance...only to have him snatched away again? Cehd'ra came dangerously close to succumbing to the Light that day.
That they both survived is a miracle that Cehd'ra does not want to squander. He's done that too much in his life, held himself back only to watch helplessly as the chance for something more slips away forever. This time he's learned his lesson. But he does still have responsibilities, they both do, so it was with his head held high and a plan already forming that he stepped through the portal, returning to the Source.
A few days later he comes back, warping in next to the Crystarium's Aetheryte with a long, curved package tucked under his arm. With only a quick glance around to orient himself Cehd'ra wastes no time in running, not walking, towards the Dossal Gate and back to the Crystal Tower. The guard isn't that surprised to see him, it's not as if he knew just how far Cehd'ra really went last he left. ]
To the Occular?
[ Cehd'ra can only nod 'yes', suddenly finding it more difficult than usual to catch his breath. He's nervous as the guard escorts him up. ]
( ooc: Spoilers a-okay, and likely. Information and preferences in journal.
Also, feel free to provide prompts instead, and I'll write starters. )
Also, feel free to provide prompts instead, and I'll write starters. )
Edited 2019-08-13 21:25 (UTC)
( ooc: Would you prefer something within the story, or some type of AU setup? I'm mostly just curious to explore more of this Amaurite/fragmented soul theory, but I'm also open to shippy type stuff if you'd be interested in exploring it, especially the Hades/Persephone theory.
Just let me know and I'll happily write up a starter for us! )
Just let me know and I'll happily write up a starter for us! )
[ ooc: not gonna lie-- Hades and Persephone is my favorite myth so I would be interested in exploring that. AU is great and I feel like the story gave us a lot to work with so either or.. perhaps we can start with a canon point and bwork from there? See where the characters take us?]
Edited 2019-08-13 21:43 (UTC)
( ooc: That sounds good to me. Depending on how it goes we could always just straight up do a divergent-path AU for the ending.
One final question then, in terms of a jump off point: For it to work on Ziva's side it'd have to be before the Mt. Gulg dungeon, but do you have a preference beyond that? )
One final question then, in terms of a jump off point: For it to work on Ziva's side it'd have to be before the Mt. Gulg dungeon, but do you have a preference beyond that? )
[ ooc: so sort of the scene where they get to The Ladders? That may work and have not really got to touch on that part via RP so that would be great, a new point to RP from for me ]
Edited 2019-08-13 22:01 (UTC)
( ooc: I meant anything up to that point, if you had a preference for something specific, but that works actually! That seems as good a good point to pick up for exploring what we talked about as any. Coming right up, then! .... Ladder pun unintended.
ETA: Who am I kidding it was totally intended.)
ETA: Who am I kidding it was totally intended.)
Edited 2019-08-13 22:06 (UTC)
[ ooc: I will be waiting with baited breath! *sorry could not find good pun :( ]
[In the few days that Cehd'ra has been gone, the Exarch has spent much of his time within the Tower - and not for want of trying. Though magicks and tonics can heal wounds, they don't heal the exhaustion that comes with being so gravely injured, and Lyna and Chessamile have been rather adamant about him getting some actual rest for once. Much still needs to be done, but according to them it can all be done later, once he's made a full recovery. Luckily, reading takes little energy, and he can rest while doing so. Thinking takes even less.
The fact that he remains here at all is a perplexing one, and the days after the Warrior's departure have been spent with his thoughts flitting from the plight of returning the Scions back to their own bodies in the Source to his own continued existence. It's quite possible that he's created some sort of divergent timeline with his meddling in the affairs of the past, but it all depends on what news of current events Cehd'ra brings back with him upon his return to the First. It may be too soon to tell, but at least he's good at waiting.
The knock on the door to the Ocular rouses him from the thoughts that have left him rereading the same paragraph for the fifth time over, and the Exarch emerges from the Umbilicus, closing the doors behind him. With half of the Crystarium having seen him without his hood on upon their return and the other half having heard secondhand by now, he doesn't even bother bringing the cloth up and over his ears.]
You may enter.
The fact that he remains here at all is a perplexing one, and the days after the Warrior's departure have been spent with his thoughts flitting from the plight of returning the Scions back to their own bodies in the Source to his own continued existence. It's quite possible that he's created some sort of divergent timeline with his meddling in the affairs of the past, but it all depends on what news of current events Cehd'ra brings back with him upon his return to the First. It may be too soon to tell, but at least he's good at waiting.
The knock on the door to the Ocular rouses him from the thoughts that have left him rereading the same paragraph for the fifth time over, and the Exarch emerges from the Umbilicus, closing the doors behind him. With half of the Crystarium having seen him without his hood on upon their return and the other half having heard secondhand by now, he doesn't even bother bringing the cloth up and over his ears.]
You may enter.
[It's been an odd day. She and her companions have seen a great many odd things in their days, some of them more disturbing than others, but Vauthry's inhuman transformation had taken the nameday cake and thrown it spiraling off of the balcony of his lavish, gaudily decorated, chambers. Ziva was grateful, then, for tasks a bit more their usual speed after Alphinaud's address to the citizens of Eulmore.
There's no particular hurry in her step as she makes back for the ladder, having just left behind the docks. Aside from dodging the beasts roaming the land it gives her time to remove the little splinters she'd picked up in handling some of the wood there.
She'd been tasked with procuring lumber for their efforts and- naturally -that meant manually sorting through and counting out the planks and discerning what was viable and what was not. Eager as she is to pursue the tyrant she's also well aware that the sooner she finishes, the longer she'll have to stand about finding ways to pass the time. And it will take time to repair the Talos, to tend to and clear the machinery and gears required to operate the ladder. More than any of that, however, she simply wants for a bit of time to process all that's happened in recent days. Even now she can feel it, the cracks running all through her soul, straining at the seams.
Perhaps in the first time in what feels like an age, she's just a little bit afraid. It's one thing to face death in battle, but it's another entirely for one to know that they're so close to breaking apart and losing themselves. What it all means, how it can be stopped, if she'll be able to contain the Light threatening to overwhelm her...? All questions pounding about in her skull.
Never having been one to entertain "what if's", preferring moving forward to contemplation, not having a clear course is frustrating. There is one thing to be glad of, however, and that's having a goal to focus on.
With deft fingers she picks another splinter free and tosses it aside, pausing in her steps to survey her surroundings and to be sure she won't be caught unawares by a malfunctioning talos or hungry plant.]
( ooc: Let me know if you need or want anything changed! )
There's no particular hurry in her step as she makes back for the ladder, having just left behind the docks. Aside from dodging the beasts roaming the land it gives her time to remove the little splinters she'd picked up in handling some of the wood there.
She'd been tasked with procuring lumber for their efforts and- naturally -that meant manually sorting through and counting out the planks and discerning what was viable and what was not. Eager as she is to pursue the tyrant she's also well aware that the sooner she finishes, the longer she'll have to stand about finding ways to pass the time. And it will take time to repair the Talos, to tend to and clear the machinery and gears required to operate the ladder. More than any of that, however, she simply wants for a bit of time to process all that's happened in recent days. Even now she can feel it, the cracks running all through her soul, straining at the seams.
Perhaps in the first time in what feels like an age, she's just a little bit afraid. It's one thing to face death in battle, but it's another entirely for one to know that they're so close to breaking apart and losing themselves. What it all means, how it can be stopped, if she'll be able to contain the Light threatening to overwhelm her...? All questions pounding about in her skull.
Never having been one to entertain "what if's", preferring moving forward to contemplation, not having a clear course is frustrating. There is one thing to be glad of, however, and that's having a goal to focus on.
With deft fingers she picks another splinter free and tosses it aside, pausing in her steps to survey her surroundings and to be sure she won't be caught unawares by a malfunctioning talos or hungry plant.]
( ooc: Let me know if you need or want anything changed! )
Edited (Sorry for the edit, forgot to get an icon selected!) 2019-08-13 22:38 (UTC)
( ooc: Available in both WHM companion/non-WoL or WoL (WHM/DNC) flavor. Open for shippy options (f/m) or gen! )
[ The lingering guard is the only thing that keeps Cehd'ra from blurting out G'raha's name in answer. It was good to see that he wasn't going to return to hiding but, to the people of the Crystarium G'raha Tia was still the Crystal Exarch. Cehd'ra was a piss pour liar but he'd learned some subtlety from Jacke and Oboro. He'll offer a grateful smile to the guard before the man takes his leave and passes into the Occular proper. Seeing the Exarch has his tail curling higher behind him.
He has a plan. But all of a sudden the details of it are failing to come back to him. ]
Ah...hello, again. [ The package is shifted under his arm. What had he decided he was going to say? Had he decided? What did the men visiting his clan back home do...? ] ...you look to be recovering well, how do you fare?
[ Gods help him. ]
He has a plan. But all of a sudden the details of it are failing to come back to him. ]
Ah...hello, again. [ The package is shifted under his arm. What had he decided he was going to say? Had he decided? What did the men visiting his clan back home do...? ] ...you look to be recovering well, how do you fare?
[ Gods help him. ]
[The moment the doors to the Ocular close behind the gate guard, the Exarch's shoulders visibly relax. Not that he's ever been particularly strict and stoic with the Crystarium's people, but there are things that are better spoken of out of the range of First-born ears.]
As well as is to be expected, I suppose, though I've still a bit of recovery ahead of me if Chessamile has anything to say about it.
[His ears wilt just a little, but only for a second or two before perking right up again. There are better and more important things to discuss than his health.]
But, 'tis good to see you again so soon, Cehd'ra. I take it everything is well back in the Source?
[... though, his eyes can't help but be drawn in curiosity to the package beneath the other man's arm. What purpose could it possibly serve?]
As well as is to be expected, I suppose, though I've still a bit of recovery ahead of me if Chessamile has anything to say about it.
[His ears wilt just a little, but only for a second or two before perking right up again. There are better and more important things to discuss than his health.]
But, 'tis good to see you again so soon, Cehd'ra. I take it everything is well back in the Source?
[... though, his eyes can't help but be drawn in curiosity to the package beneath the other man's arm. What purpose could it possibly serve?]
This is great! You don't have to change a single thing!
sadlonelyspires
2019-08-14 12:24 am (UTC)(link)
[ The moment had come where Emet-Selch had almost felt like the Warrior of Darkness' journey had been his journey, however unwelcome the Scions had attempted to make him feel. Attempted was the key word as Emet-Selch knew full well that one could never be made to feel anything if they did not want to feel it-- so with a glib tongue he would parry each verbal attack from them, and sometimes he would riposte one of his own in a mental free-for-all that seemed to enliven him much more then when he had been stuck in Garlemald listening to Father and Son spew dysfunctions hither and thither at each other.
That poison that was flicked back and forth was certainly something to be avoided, and while father and son wanted to blame him for everything, he had only done what had been for the good of Garlemald, and it had not been him that had destroyed it, but them-- and he was even beyond worrying about it right now.
The one person that didn't seem to rise up to his words seemed to be the Warrior of Darkness herself and it was she who he watched ever closely, more closely then he had ever watched anyone before.
Most of the time he watched her where she couldn't sense it. Mainly from the aether-stream where he went to hide; not quite the Lifestream but neither was it the Void either, but perhaps a middle ground between soul and fiend, where he did not have to contemplate too closely on the battle between light and dark.
To be sure, he already knew the path he walked-- he did not need constant and ever reminders of it in his sanctuary. It was his resting point; there had been a few times when he had observed her with her noticing, those times had had been before she had known who he was and certainly before he introduced himself to the group of Scions.
And 'ere had he very little time to talk to her privately.
Twas not that he was shy but rather that he was taking stock of her, his eyes watching her battle keenly as she waged it against all Lightwardens-- such fire, such spirit-- much to be admired.
It almost gave him hope--
Namless and blasphemous as that hope was when it lodged into his own fragmented soul. Oh, if the other Ascians were to know exactly what thoughts were going through his mind-- but he supposed that was little matter enough.
But he found that perhaps now would be the perfect time to talk to her without the watchdogs of her Scions and so that was how he came to be-- walking right out of the Aether as he was won't to do though he was not intent on surprise. Ah no, he had done that before many a times with the element of ephemeral surprise . If one was seeking cooperation, one must approach from the front as a ally rather then an enemy.
Now to convince her that he was one.
So Ziva would feel that subtle disturbance that signaled his approach, but he was far away enough that she'd have time to mentally prepare herself if she so needed it ]
That poison that was flicked back and forth was certainly something to be avoided, and while father and son wanted to blame him for everything, he had only done what had been for the good of Garlemald, and it had not been him that had destroyed it, but them-- and he was even beyond worrying about it right now.
The one person that didn't seem to rise up to his words seemed to be the Warrior of Darkness herself and it was she who he watched ever closely, more closely then he had ever watched anyone before.
Most of the time he watched her where she couldn't sense it. Mainly from the aether-stream where he went to hide; not quite the Lifestream but neither was it the Void either, but perhaps a middle ground between soul and fiend, where he did not have to contemplate too closely on the battle between light and dark.
To be sure, he already knew the path he walked-- he did not need constant and ever reminders of it in his sanctuary. It was his resting point; there had been a few times when he had observed her with her noticing, those times had had been before she had known who he was and certainly before he introduced himself to the group of Scions.
And 'ere had he very little time to talk to her privately.
Twas not that he was shy but rather that he was taking stock of her, his eyes watching her battle keenly as she waged it against all Lightwardens-- such fire, such spirit-- much to be admired.
It almost gave him hope--
Namless and blasphemous as that hope was when it lodged into his own fragmented soul. Oh, if the other Ascians were to know exactly what thoughts were going through his mind-- but he supposed that was little matter enough.
But he found that perhaps now would be the perfect time to talk to her without the watchdogs of her Scions and so that was how he came to be-- walking right out of the Aether as he was won't to do though he was not intent on surprise. Ah no, he had done that before many a times with the element of ephemeral surprise . If one was seeking cooperation, one must approach from the front as a ally rather then an enemy.
Now to convince her that he was one.
So Ziva would feel that subtle disturbance that signaled his approach, but he was far away enough that she'd have time to mentally prepare herself if she so needed it ]
\o! Awesome! Also, what's your take on juggling threads?
purrrrfection
2019-08-14 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
( ooc: I have a different OC I'd love to toss at him on the Hades/Persephone meme, if that's alright by you. )
[Of all of the Scions, Ziva was likely the least perturbed by the addition. Then again, she'd worked alongside foes and former foes before, particularly of the Garlean variety, but not limited only to mankind. So while she may not appreciate the strife he brought to her companions, the disruption to their peace of mind, so long as he didn't present himself as a threat she was more inclined to tolerate his presence with a neutral outlook.
... Well, neutral-ish. One mustn't forget that Ascians stock and trade are genocide and duplicity.
Truly, she was only sorry that he'd missed all the fun of Il Mheg. A damn pity, that.
Ah, and speak of the devil and he shall appear. There it was, that ever increasingly familiar ripple in the aether, that bare sense of wrongness in the air as it shifted and made way for Emet-Selch's familiar figure. Turning her gaze away from a suspicious pile of sticks (she'd not make the mistake of tripping that trap a second time) they focused on the Ascian, the founding father of the Garlean empire himself.]
And here I thought you'd be discouraged by the near complete lack of shade. Come to join me for a stroll, have you?
[Of all of the Scions, Ziva was likely the least perturbed by the addition. Then again, she'd worked alongside foes and former foes before, particularly of the Garlean variety, but not limited only to mankind. So while she may not appreciate the strife he brought to her companions, the disruption to their peace of mind, so long as he didn't present himself as a threat she was more inclined to tolerate his presence with a neutral outlook.
... Well, neutral-ish. One mustn't forget that Ascians stock and trade are genocide and duplicity.
Truly, she was only sorry that he'd missed all the fun of Il Mheg. A damn pity, that.
Ah, and speak of the devil and he shall appear. There it was, that ever increasingly familiar ripple in the aether, that bare sense of wrongness in the air as it shifted and made way for Emet-Selch's familiar figure. Turning her gaze away from a suspicious pile of sticks (she'd not make the mistake of tripping that trap a second time) they focused on the Ascian, the founding father of the Garlean empire himself.]
And here I thought you'd be discouraged by the near complete lack of shade. Come to join me for a stroll, have you?
I am all for it! Just as long as you are patient with tag time!
sadlonelyspires
2019-08-14 02:32 am (UTC)(link)
[ A theatrical shrug of his shoulders and his gait slow and measaured as he approached Ziva but surely not close enough that she would throw a plank at him-- he was of the sorts that he would expect the unexpected, prepare for the worst-- but he was not going to shy away from a closer understanding and if he had to approach, well he would take that opportunity-- after all there was yet one more Lightwarden to go and then it would be only a matter of time before something happened-- anything to stave off the boredom.
Nigh had he been bored by watching Ziva, and he was not even loathe to admit that. ]
Oh, it takes little to discourage me, much more to bore me-- so as long as you prove entertaining thank I suppose the light I shall endure for this afternoon--
[ Oh, Emet-Selch really was trying to be at least a bit charming; after all one caught more flies with honey than vinegar-- though he also didn't fool himself into thinking that perhaps Ziva would be a tough audience; he'd played tougher and in that respect Varis perennially comes to mind-- talk with Ziva or attempt communication with his grand son.
The kick was that it really wasn't much of a choice at all ]
Nigh had he been bored by watching Ziva, and he was not even loathe to admit that. ]
Oh, it takes little to discourage me, much more to bore me-- so as long as you prove entertaining thank I suppose the light I shall endure for this afternoon--
[ Oh, Emet-Selch really was trying to be at least a bit charming; after all one caught more flies with honey than vinegar-- though he also didn't fool himself into thinking that perhaps Ziva would be a tough audience; he'd played tougher and in that respect Varis perennially comes to mind-- talk with Ziva or attempt communication with his grand son.
The kick was that it really wasn't much of a choice at all ]
I don't mind waiting at all. I'll backtag for *ages* when my partners will!
purrrrfection
2019-08-14 02:53 am (UTC)(link)
[Ziva's ears quivered just so, following the rise and fall of his tone, particularly when he put his specific brand of emphasis on certain ones. "Theatrical" was a good way to describe the man in general, ever dramatic in all manner of presentation, from fashion to body language to dialogue.]
How noble you make it sound.
[Green eyes watched his approach, catlike in their intensity and attention, if not in shape. She was just as unperturbed as any of the wild hunters to be found prowling untamed lands, but it was a deceptive ease, as it had been for years. Her easy nature belied the very same ferocity that in part kept current company's attention. That she wasn't glaring him down at that very moment was simply proof that- while she might not trust the Ascian wholly, she did trust that he wouldn't go back on his word.
No, she suspected that as stated, he was plotting and scheming at every waking moment, but his was the sort of long game she herself could never perfect. Whatever he was planning, they wouldn't suss out his motives until he was ready. Of that Ziva was sure.
As those words left her mouth she plucked another splinter free and absently flicked it off to the side. The encounter was shaping up to be less of a stroll and more of a stationary exchange, but she doubted the others expected her back promptly, she didn't feel she needed protecting, and Emet-Selch's presence was more likely to soil the good mood of the others than help it (especially Thancred and Y'shtola).]
And what is it that you do, exactly, when you aren't with us?
How noble you make it sound.
[Green eyes watched his approach, catlike in their intensity and attention, if not in shape. She was just as unperturbed as any of the wild hunters to be found prowling untamed lands, but it was a deceptive ease, as it had been for years. Her easy nature belied the very same ferocity that in part kept current company's attention. That she wasn't glaring him down at that very moment was simply proof that- while she might not trust the Ascian wholly, she did trust that he wouldn't go back on his word.
No, she suspected that as stated, he was plotting and scheming at every waking moment, but his was the sort of long game she herself could never perfect. Whatever he was planning, they wouldn't suss out his motives until he was ready. Of that Ziva was sure.
As those words left her mouth she plucked another splinter free and absently flicked it off to the side. The encounter was shaping up to be less of a stroll and more of a stationary exchange, but she doubted the others expected her back promptly, she didn't feel she needed protecting, and Emet-Selch's presence was more likely to soil the good mood of the others than help it (especially Thancred and Y'shtola).]
And what is it that you do, exactly, when you aren't with us?
[ As the Exarch appears to relax Cehd'ra finds himself able to do so as well, or at least to begin to. He crosses the distance between them, tail tip curling back and forth, obeying the part of him that wants to see for himself how well the other is healing.
The Exarch may think there are more important things to discuss but to Cehd'ra? ]
Only a bit, though, that is welcome news. I...must confess how worried I was, how I'd wished there was some other way to leave the Tempest that did not require making you swim after all that. [ A beat, Cehd'ra's ears sticking up in alarm. ] Not to say that you were incapable! Only that, well, merely seeing you walking after what had happened on Mt Gulg was a relief I'll not forget.
[ There's a sound of wrinkling paper as the package is all but wrung in Cehd'ra's hands. He stops himself, taking it out from underneath his arm and holding it in open hands. ]
As for home, there was only good news awaiting me. The Garleans continue to be pushed back and Tataru told me she's found someone to look into the Black Rose while I was gone. She would not tell me who only that she was terribly pleased with herself.
[ Cehd'ra smiles wryly and looks down at the gift. Finally he holds it out, presenting it to G'raha and bowing his head. ]
It was peaceful enough I had the time to make something. For you.
[ Inside the somewhat wrinkled paper is a composite short bow, different kinds of wood layered and pressed together, oiled with an alchemical agent to enhance its pull without sacrificing power, and a soft leather grip. Cehd'ra did all he could to make it as fine as it would be functional. ]
The Exarch may think there are more important things to discuss but to Cehd'ra? ]
Only a bit, though, that is welcome news. I...must confess how worried I was, how I'd wished there was some other way to leave the Tempest that did not require making you swim after all that. [ A beat, Cehd'ra's ears sticking up in alarm. ] Not to say that you were incapable! Only that, well, merely seeing you walking after what had happened on Mt Gulg was a relief I'll not forget.
[ There's a sound of wrinkling paper as the package is all but wrung in Cehd'ra's hands. He stops himself, taking it out from underneath his arm and holding it in open hands. ]
As for home, there was only good news awaiting me. The Garleans continue to be pushed back and Tataru told me she's found someone to look into the Black Rose while I was gone. She would not tell me who only that she was terribly pleased with herself.
[ Cehd'ra smiles wryly and looks down at the gift. Finally he holds it out, presenting it to G'raha and bowing his head. ]
It was peaceful enough I had the time to make something. For you.
[ Inside the somewhat wrinkled paper is a composite short bow, different kinds of wood layered and pressed together, oiled with an alchemical agent to enhance its pull without sacrificing power, and a soft leather grip. Cehd'ra did all he could to make it as fine as it would be functional. ]
[The Exarch laughs softly, lifting one hand to rub at the back of his neck. Swimming had been exhausting, honestly, and he'd dearly suffered for it until he'd finally returned to the Tower, but at least now he feels stronger than he had then.]
Mayhap it was the rush from what happened still pushing me to act. It has been a long time since I've seen a battle so strenuous, and I am not the young man that I used to be. Nonetheless, your concern is touching, my friend, but I can assure you now that I am much improved.
[The crinkling sound of paper in movement causes his ears to perk up and forward from their relaxed position, and for a brief moment as it's offered to him, he can pick up the faint scents of sawdust and leather and lacquer. That Cehd'ra is a man of many talents is no surprise to him after all that he's studied up on the Warrior of Light over the last few decades, but the expression of it on his face is entirely genuine for one simple fact: it is a gift for him, made by Cehd'ra's own hands.]
You... made something? For me?
[His tone is quiet and disbelieving, but he takes the package nonetheless. What he finds inside only confirms his vague suspicions from the size, shape, and scent of it, and for a long moment he simply runs his fingers along it, ears slowly beginning to droop, his tongue completely failing him. The craftsmanship is excellent, and... gods, but how long has it been since he last held a bow? The feel of the grip in his hand alone makes memories come flooding back with astounding clarity, and he lets out a shaky breath as his hand tightens around it.]
Cehd'ra, I... I don't know what to say. This is wonderfully made...
Mayhap it was the rush from what happened still pushing me to act. It has been a long time since I've seen a battle so strenuous, and I am not the young man that I used to be. Nonetheless, your concern is touching, my friend, but I can assure you now that I am much improved.
[The crinkling sound of paper in movement causes his ears to perk up and forward from their relaxed position, and for a brief moment as it's offered to him, he can pick up the faint scents of sawdust and leather and lacquer. That Cehd'ra is a man of many talents is no surprise to him after all that he's studied up on the Warrior of Light over the last few decades, but the expression of it on his face is entirely genuine for one simple fact: it is a gift for him, made by Cehd'ra's own hands.]
You... made something? For me?
[His tone is quiet and disbelieving, but he takes the package nonetheless. What he finds inside only confirms his vague suspicions from the size, shape, and scent of it, and for a long moment he simply runs his fingers along it, ears slowly beginning to droop, his tongue completely failing him. The craftsmanship is excellent, and... gods, but how long has it been since he last held a bow? The feel of the grip in his hand alone makes memories come flooding back with astounding clarity, and he lets out a shaky breath as his hand tightens around it.]
Cehd'ra, I... I don't know what to say. This is wonderfully made...
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