out of A S H E S // Josk and Vaoris

[kayla]

Backhand. Forehand. Overhead. Overhead. Side-slash. Repeat. Ariane was dressed in the traditional armor of a elven solider. She had left her helmet off to the side and carried her personal longsword and was hacking away at a dummy made out of straw. Thankfully, it had been augmented by magic to survive wear long after it should. She could put all her force into a blow and she wouldn't even splinter the underlying wood. She changed patterns with her sword. Thrust. Side-cut. Backhand sde. Overhand. Overhand Backhand. Backhand side-cut. Repeat. She kept wailing on the dummy with all of her force. She held nothing back, using any power which she could. She'd been at this for who knows how long. She was on the training ground that was meant for Ellesmera soldiers, she was not alone here. Many other soliders of varying ranks gathered here to practice and talk. Yet it was never her, she was always alo- 'No...Focus on the sword.', she thought.

Thrust. Side-cut. Backhand sde. Overhand. Overhand Backhand. Backhand side-cut. Repeat. The pattern continued, it was one that she rather liked. It felt natural and quick to use, especially the backhand side-cut. She let her mind numb out as she continued to whack at the dummy again and again. She was no stranger to the cold, no stranger to being alone with little comfort outside the few friends she had. Most of them had been stationed elsewhere, was it her superiors that were purposely trying to make her life so miserable. She didn't understand why her blood still mattered all this time. It just made her so darn sore about the fact. 'Why can't I...just...be...treated...NORMAL', she thought. With each of the words which she thought she struck the dummy harder and harder. The dummy was shaking from the force of the blow, bending but not breaking. By the time she had thought normal, she sliced with all of the power she could. What she had to show for it was a long scratch along the dummy's "armor". She was breathing hard now, and was glad to have gotten it out of her system once more. Every once and awhile the anger at this social state she's in builds up. At least she has some place to take it out on something.

She sheathed her sword in the scabbard on her left hip. She walked away from the dummy, as it was some other elves turn to use it. She could care less, having gotten out her anger. She plastered a smile upon her face. Changing her thoughts over to memories which she had in the past. The good, happy memories that she could still remember clear as day. People wanted to know how she could get through being called what she was..It was both a built up resistance, and those memories. The happy times which she had kept her going all the time...Well occasionally the desire for honor and glory to her family creeps in. She went over to a basin of water, taking long strides, and cupped a bit of it. She dumped it over her head, letting it rush down her face. It cooled her quickly from the work out which she just had. She looked around the field that was set out infront of her. She looked over at the archery targets. She wondered if she could take a turn there for something different. She took a few steps toward it when she accidentally bumped into a male elf slightly. She turned on her heel to face him.

"Sorr-", she began to say.

[Angmor]

It was, Vaoris decided, quite infuriating being young.
After all, age represented so many things to most people. Age was, quite unfairly, a measure of experience, wisdom, and knowledge. Now, he would grant the first. And wisdom tended to be considered experience over time, but not always. He had met and read about quite a few experienced fools, after all. But age was uniquivocally not a reliable judge for knowledge. While only eighty years old, Vaoris possessed an impressive amount of knowledge. Which was often frustrating, for it seemed no one could look past his youth in order to see it.

He sighed, blowing out a cleansing breath as he walked one of Ellesmera's winding paths. The beautifully mild day around him seemed an odd contrast to his dour mood. In the waning days of summer, the stagnant air and heat had finally given way to the soft sunlight and gentle breezes of approaching Autumn. Vaoris had to admit that it was lovely as the wind tousled his hair and sighed through ceiling of leaves high above, accompanied by the syncopated buzz of the cicadas. But then, after travelling through the forest for days, they had not yet had a day that wasn't lovely. Vaoris suspected that there might be some generations-old elven magic at work. He almost wished that there would be some violent storm or day of airless heat just to break the monotony.

Weeks before, word had come to Ilirea that a treasure trove of artifacts had been uncovered from the rubble left by the Blue Divide. Diaries, personal accounts, maps, songs, all a scholar's dream. In a diplomatic move, the elven government had invited two scholars of the Grand Library to come and examine the documents, with paid hospitality. Jumping at the chance, Master Vanir had selected Gyvar, the libary's foremost authority on, oddly enough, both botany and military history, and Vaoris, for his admittedly impressive capacity for focus and determination. And so, after many days of travel, they had arrived at the elven capital and had been shown into its library earlier that morning.
Which would have been lovely, if Vaoris had actually been allowed to study anything.

"This will be long and tedious, young one," Vaoris muttered, imitating Gyvar's gruff baritone under his breath. "Go out and have a look around. Find something to amuse you."
In another life, Gyvar had been a ranking officer within the elven army, before a severe injury forced him to retire to Ilirea. While he had settled amicably into the scholar's life, he had never lost that hard, authoritarian bearing. It was not wise to disobey Master Gyvar when he gave an order, so Vaoris hadn't.
He huffed.
Yet another disadvantage for youth. No one could wrap their minds around the idea that there was no place he would rather be then in a stuffy library, surrounded by dusty books.
Because after all, He thought sarcastically, I'm definitely the type who likes to sample the social environment. If there's a party, I'm there.
And he quickly discovered there was no point in wandering to another section of the archive to amuse himself. While the Ellesmera library was fine, he supposed, it was difficult to find anything new and interesting in a library when he spent most of his time exploring the Library.

And the option of exploring the city failed to fill him with excitement as well. While he had at first been anticipating the chance to see the greatest of elven cities, that anticipation had waned as soon as he had crossed the boundary, replaced instead by a feeling of nameless dread. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something off. As he explored the winding paths around and in the branches of the trees, he was half expecting to round a corner and come across some horrifying secret that lent the sense of heaviness to the air, as if the city was about to swallow him whole if he let his guard down. The furtive glances his way didn't help. While he passed many elves, none of them greeted him. The symbol emblazoned on the shoulder of his soft grey scholar's robe clearly marked his affiliation with Ilirea, so he guessed that probably had something to do with it.

His steps inevitably led him closer to the edge of the city, away from the densely populated areas and into quieter, more industrious environments. Here the melody of a spellweaver's song could be heard, accompanied almost rythmically by the musical ring of a smith's hammer somewhere amid the trees. Vaoris at last found himself able to relax. While Ilirea was lovely, something in Vaoris' elven blood thrilled to be among the mostly unspoiled natural beauty of the Guarding Forest.
A moment later, he crested a rise and was confronted by a rare sight: a large, grassy clearing of treeless space, stretched out like a carpet on the forest floor.
The training field.
Vaoris at first meant to turn back. As a scholar, the arts of combat had never interested him. And yet, something made him stay atop the rise, his gray-green eyes surveying the scene before him. There was a kind of odd beauty to be found in the movements of the warriors that was different from watching students of the sword in Ilirea. While the students made it look like a dance, these warriors were altogether more deadly. Their motions fluid, yet contained. There was no wasted movement or unnecissary steps. Every move translated seamlessly into an attack or a defense, and sometimes both at once. Vaoris wandered closer, walking down the hill to stop at the edge of the field. Despite his fascination, something about the scene tugged at his curiousity. After a moment, he finally discovered what. Even with its serious nature, it seemed that combat training was a very social event. Everwhere he looked, every elf had a partner with which to spar or compete, or groups of young students gathered under the watchful eye of a weaponmaster.
Every elf, except one.
At one corner of the field, a young female stood alone, training with the sword against inanimate straw dummies. As far as Vaoris could tell, there was nothing particularly unusual about her. She wore the same armor, wielded the same sword, and fought with the same determined ferocity. More, in fact. While Vaoris was no authority by any means, but to his inexperienced eye, she looked to be a match in skill to any other combatant on the field. And yet none of the elves would ackowledge her. Most refused to even look her direction.
His scholar's curiousity instantly aroused, he walked furtively around the edge of the field in order to get a better look.

He couldn't help himself. His mind working of its own accord, he set about an investigation of just what could possibly have set this elf apart from her peers, assembling a mental list of possible factors. From the safety of the trees, he drew close enough to start examining the woman herself. As far as he could tell, she was a perfectly average specimen of a female elf. Which was of course to say that she was beautiful. Her smoothly flawless skin was a bit more toned, perhaps, speaking of more time spent outdoors. Admirable, but hardly worthy of discrimination. Perhaps she had a bit of a wilder look about her, with a silky mane of ebony hair framing a face, although now creased in concentration, he could see the traces of quiet amusement. Fair, yet fey, as the poet once said.
The eyes, however, told a different story. Vaoris knew anger when he saw it, and he could see it lurking just behind her soft brown irises.
So, she knows she's being ostracized. And yet, no feelings of regret. Inference; an action or event over which she has lost or never has had control. Secondary possibility: She is at fault, but lacks the wisdom to see it.
Whatever the case, he felt that he was on to something interesting. Mentally cancelling all plans for the rest of the day, he resolved to get to the bottom of it. Gyvar wouldn't miss him anyway, probably assuming he had found a party, or something. And the look on the old master's face when Vaoris instead returned with an interesting, true-to-life study for the archives... Priceless.
Just then, something bumped into him from behind, knocking him off balance. He stumbled to regain his balance, his automatic apology overlapping with the voice of another.
“Sorr-“
“Please, forgive-“
Distracted by his thoughts, Vaoris had not realized that he had wandered so close to the field. He turned toward the elf who had run into him, running through a repitoire of placating remarks…
And stopped, his eyes widening with shock.
None other than the same woman he had been so keen to observe.

Immediately, he looked away, feeling blood rushing to his face. True, he hadn’t really been spying on her, anymore than a scholar spied on anyone. But the fact that he had been caught still sent a little twinge of guilt through him. In his haste to apologize, they ended up comically talking over one another once again.
“I’m sorry, I was in the way-“
“I wasn’t watching where-“
“I was thinking-“
“I was distracted-“
Vaoris cut himself off, again at the same time as the woman. They stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Vaoris managed to break the pattern.
“I’m sorry,” He said hurriedly. “The error was mine. Please, forgive my clumsiness.” He offered a shallow bow, partly to show his respect and partially to hide the shame he was written all over his reddened face. He had never been much good at hiding his feelings, a fact that he sometimes lamented. He could only wait and hope that the woman would not be offended.

[/blockquote]

OOC: Several things. Yes, this was done with Elly's express permission. She liked the idea of having more to work with. Yes, it is huge. My muse was really high for this one, and I really like how it turned out. And yes, I did powerplay Ariane slightly at the end. Easily changeable if you want, but I thought it could be fun. XD

[Elloria]

Josk awoke early and watched the sunrise, imagining that in the distant and hated Ilirea Niko was sharing this moment with him. Of course, that damn snake would be with Niko as well, but Josk could forgive his brother that indiscretion. It wasn’t the younger Danta’s fault that Ilirea had managed to brainwash him. No, he was willing to share the sunrise with a snake and his brother because things were just magnificent on this mild, breezy summer day. Today, you see, was his day off from official Hive business. The entire world was open to him today, like it so rarely was. So the servants on the estate had been more than a bit confused when the master of the house had practically bounced into the dining hall for breakfast. He had lingered over his food for several hours, simply allowing himself to laze about for once before all but floating back to his room to change.

He selected something slightly different for his attire today. It was simply too excellent of a day to wear something stuffy and dour. Today, he chose a very simple grey shirt that was but a few shades darker than his eyes made of lightweight silk and a matching pair of loose silk trousers. He didn’t deign to put on an overshirt today - he did not wish to feel constricted. There was no embroidery, no fussiness - simple, yet tastefully elegant. He then sat down before the vanity, put on his mother’s wrought-iron necklace as well as her obsidian ring before carefully selecting a large pair of dangling ruby earrings - the last gift he had received from Rensu before his lover’s untimely death. Donning the earrings, he examined himself to ensure that his clothes hung from him properly, that the earrings did not snag in his hair, that the jewelry in general matched both each other and his outfit, that his pale skin held its typical glow, and that his hair fell smoothly into place. When he was at last satisfied, he pulled on a pair of black canvas boots and gracefully rose from his seat. He moved over to the fireplace and lifted his family’s ancestral sword and belt from its wall mount. Strapping the belt to his waist, he grabbed his cloak from where it hung on a wall-hook, clasped it on and strode merrily from his room.

He hummed a random, happy childhood tune as he left the Danta estate in the nobles’ sector of Ellesmera. A bright smile lit up his face in a way that it hadn’t been lit up for months. Yes, Jeralt had simply vanished from his life - taking that incredible sex with him. Yes, Addison had also disappeared - leaving a much more painful ache in Josk’s heart than the elf cared to admit. His brother had become a filthy Dragon Rider somewhere along the line. His mother - and through her, the Hive - was the reason his heart was buried in a small grove outside of Ellesmera. Yes, he had plenty of reasons to be brooding and irritable and just generally an unpleasant ass. Which would have been fairly par for the course for him. But he just...was in a damn good mood today. There was just the slightest shift in weather to tell him that autumn was fast approaching. Autumn and spring were when he was happiest. In the one, he could sing wonderful plants and life from the earth and celebrate in what little good he could find in this world. During the other, he could reap the delicious benefits of his springtime work. Plus, the spice trade was doing booming business abroad.

Which reminded him, oddly enough...

With a delighted laugh, Josk made an abrupt turn and headed towards the training ground for Ellesmera’s soldiers. There was an older gentleman - though he used that term quite loosely - by the name of Vorn Skaresa whom Josk knew would be down there practicing right about now. And Skaresa was a person of interest to the Hive. More to the point, he was a person of interest to Josk in particular. Skaresa was known in the shady areas of Ellesmera as a venom broker. Any kind of venom for your noxious poisons and he most certainly could get a hold of it. Admittedly, the man had only managed to make a name for himself because Josk had become his top customer, but even so. He was useful. And on this glorious morning, Josk decided it was time to settle the account of their last deal. He had been looking to get a hold of some seithr oil and Skaresa had yet to deliver - despite the fact that Josk had already paid him quite handsomely for the three vials he was hoping to get.

With this in mind, he arrived at the training grounds and immediately hunted the unfortunate broker down. Gripping Skaresa very firmly by the bicep - firmly enough to leave bruising, as Skaresa would later discover - Josk pulled the broker aside to discuss the deal with him again. He all but dragged the elf to an area filled with straw dummies for solo practice, stopping a few feet away from a basin of water. There was only one individual using the dummies, as all the other soldiers were paired up - even Skaresa’s partner had already moved on to another sparring partner. But this woman was one of those cursed Vaaura. A blight upon elven society, she and her family were naturally shunned for bringing about Du Fyrn Skulblaka so many centuries ago. Frankly, Josk didn’t think disposing of the dragons had been such a terrible idea. But it was more entertaining to spurn the Vaaura and look down upon them - to break their spirits as far as he could, essentially. His grin widened at the thought before he set it aside and focused on Skaresa.

Josk spent the next few minutes quite forcefully reminding Skaresa of his responsibility to deliver the seithr oil before the Hive lost its temper. And no one wanted that now, did they? Certain that he had gotten his message through loud and clear, Josk’s attention was rather quickly diverted by something peculiar happening just to his left. Turning his head, he noticed the Vaaura woman and another elf embarrassing themselves as they tried to apologize for something. He tilted his head, absorbed by their conversation.

“I’m sorry, I was in the way-”

“I wasn’t watching where-”

“I was thinking-”

“I was distracted-”

Josk snorted derisively. He had to wonder who the strange elf was. He had never seen the man in Ellesmera before, so he was obviously foreign. But he felt like he should recognize him. The question was: where in Alagaesia could he have seen that elf before? Ah well, it didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry. The error was mine. Please, forgive my clumsiness.”

Josk couldn’t stay silent any longer. He laughed aloud. Skaresa even joined in a bit, albeit much quieter. When the laughter subsided, he grinned at the two elves before him. “You clearly are not from this area,” he said. His smooth baritone rang out clearly in the quiet air. “Everyone in Ellesmera knows that putrescence like the Vaaura deserve no apology.” He waved a deprecating towards the woman. “It’s simply not possible to be rude to a dreg like this one.”