11-09-2016, 08:34 PM
I’ll be watching…
...and waiting.
I think I heard that… maybe a day ago…? Omni… the name Omni rings a bell.
...ning.
...ood morning…
“...can’t take this anymore!”
A pointed, heavy bit of something cold and hard connects with my stomach. I gasp and gag, my eyes flying open and letting the world come into focus. Droplets of rain land all over me, making my clothes just the slightest bit weightier. I notice a black, metallic boot drawing back from my stomach as I gasp for breath, clutching at my horribly pained stomach.
“By the Lords, did it take you long enough to wake up,” says a distinctly feminine but unfamiliar voice. I look up, following the metallic boot to a leg and a torso and eventually a head of blonde hair, with a pair of faded golden eyes training on me. They look almost beady, intimidating, like they want something from me.
“Elise, of Carim,” the woman says, offering a metal-plated hand. “You’ve proven yourself, sorcerer. What shall I call you?”
I flinch at the word ‘sorcerer’, first fearing it means something bad, then realizing I was just called a sorcerer. “I-- uh--” I clear my throat nervously and take the hand. “Joline. Some people call me Jojo now, though, so you can just call me that, too, if you’d like. Sorcerer works, too, I guess.”
Not taking a moment to let the topic change, I add, “so. Sorcerer. What’s that supposed to mean, anyh--” I cough and hack violently, reaching my free hand to my ribs as I’m pulled to my feet. “--ow. Okay, that, and then what happened? And where’s Ciamath?” I add, my eyes flicking from side to side, surveying the lightly smoking landscape.
“Oh? Yes, she’s asleep, as well. Primes take wake-up kicks better than Secondaries, I find,” she explains. “Further, Miss Joline, I suppose you’re ignorant toward the nature of what you just performed? It was doubtless sorcery. You should speak to a proper mage of some sort.”
I look to my hands. My fingertips are lightly charred, and through my sleeves my forearms seem to faintly glow with a tealish light. “Excuse me, what? I’m magic?” I say with complete and utter confusion. “Right. This is a dream. Pinch me.”
“I’ll do you one better,” says Elise, and something hammers me in the gut. I feel the urge to vomit. “Awake yet?”
“Now I am,” I wheeze, my eyes wide. I clutch at my chest. “Owwwww. Lemme just… I’ll wake up Ciamath,” I say as I walk over in her direction, coughing and hacking the pain away. As I do so, I try to soften my voice. She deserves a better awakening than I got.
She doesn’t look to be particularly badly injured, past a burn on her stomach. She looks as though she’s in-between being barely conscious and barely unconscious - through her eyelids little flecks of her crimson eyes can be seen now and then. Her back is to the wall, in what looks to be the same place she was knocked into.
I take a knee beside her and gently shake her shoulder. “Ciamath,” I half-sing, half-whisper. “Time to wake up…”
I get a sort of grumbly moan in response. “Ciamath,” I repeat, and open my mouth to repeat her name again--
--only to hear “Okay, okay” over and over rather lazily come from between her lips. I light up as one of her eyes peeks open, a weak flame reflecting off the faint scarlet in them.
“You took quite the hit,” I remark and smirk a bit. “How’re you holding up?”
Ciamath frowns. “I would say the same for you,” she replies, reaching a hand out and poking at my stomach. I flinch, and she draws back. I notice it felt… almost bent inwards where she touched. “That’s a nasty wound.”
I puff out my cheeks. “Yeah, taking a mace to the chest does that. I’m not bleeding, though, am I?” I ask, looking down to answer for myself. “OH, GODS, I’M BLEEDING.”
Wild-eyed and feeling sick to my stomach, I produce a sphere of Omnilium in hand and press it to my chest. Maybe I can make myself more blood, or a new stomach, or PLEASE NO MORE BLEEDING.
...And it seems to work. Something does, anyways. It feels numbing and very, very gradual, but it begins to work its magic.
Ciamath chimes in. “Omnilium is interesting, isn’t it? How it just comes to you naturally?”
I raise a brow. “Did you know I could do this? Er, we, I guess - Primes in general?” I correct myself hastily, nursing my chest-wound uncomfortably.
“No, not from experience,” she replies. “I have read and heard about such things. How Omnilium functions seems to just ‘come’ to the user. It’s not so much something you learn, as when the application becomes necessary, you simply know.”
It’s weird, I think, rubbing the rainbow substance gingerly into my gross-looking injury, but I can’t help but be grateful.
It’s not just having been hit there - I feel as though my stomach has been flipped upside-down just looking at the wound. Being hurt like this, I ponder, hasn’t really happened to me before, at least not in a long time. Being attacked is a first - even if not one to celebrate.
Being attacked, my mind echoes. As the pain fades, it starts to occur to me just how much has happened in such a short time. I grip at my stomach. It feels like not only it, but my whole world has been turned upside-down.
I shake my head and look away. The sky’s murky, like somebody mixed a bunch of colours of paint together, and it’s drizzling a little all over the remaining fire here and there. “As I think about it,” I say, feeling rather annoyed, “we didn’t really do anything here, did we…?”
“That’s not entirely true,” replies Ciamath. “There was that pyromancer. Unfortunately, I think they got away. You certainly did a number on them, but it wasn’t enough to kill them.”
I feel a weight on my shoulders lifted, but only slightly. It still irks me that, even if only for a moment, I was perfectly fine with the idea of ending somebody’s life. With a shudder I look to where I once stood, where Beskyttende now rests on the ground. “It’s not entirely wrong, though, either.”
The wood is damp, and raindrops slide along the steel reinforcing it. A half-dozen steps away, Brug Hild lies picked and chipped at but still shining on the cobblestones. I grab them both and return them to their place on my back, finding the burden of wood and metal on my back growing faintly familiar and almost welcome.
Elise looks over me, her snakelike eyes uneasing me and urging me not to do anything funny. “A shield does not suit a sorcerer,” she remarks.
My brow twitches with irritation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means what I said,” she shoots back, sounding faintly irritated. “A sorcerer burdened with a shield will find somatic components a struggle at best, excruciating at worst. Rid yourself of that thing.”
I shake my head. Even though I’ve not had it particularly long, I’m already fond of it - and even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t just throw it away. Somebody worked hard on this. Probably Jamven, as I think about it. “And if I refuse?”
“Let whoever you fight alongside complain about your shortcomings,” she says with a shrug of her spaulders. “Like the spearman there. Ciamath, is it?”
I turn my head to Ciamath. She blinks in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”
I groan and roll my eyes. “I think I’ve had just about enough about this ‘sorcerer’ mumbo-jumbo. Somatic this, mace-to-the-ribs that--”
I wince. “Still hurts, by the way,” I comment, then continue bitterly, “forget this. I need to take my mind off things.” With a puff, I turn tail and begin to walk a way I presume is out of the village.
“Joline?” goes Ciamath over my shoulder. “Where--”
“Go with her!” I shout irritably. “Go sort out this sorcerer crap! I DON’T CARE.” With how the past day’s been, I am so done. That’s gonna change, I guess, but I need a walk. I need a breather. Something. Anything.
Before I know it, the pair are out of sight. It’s raining and the faint, reddish mace-tears on the front of my dress wash out, looking pinkish again. As I plod along, my boots thump-thumping against dirt and beaten paths and grass, my hair starts to soak through and get heavy. Eventually it seems like my clothes have changed entirely.
...And I feel like my whole body is starting to get heavy. Heavier, at least. And the ground looks farther away, and my skin looks faintly darker, and my humming deepens just a bit…
I step through the portal to the Nexus with an exasperated puff of my cheeks. I hope I can find Ciamath again. Just…
Not now.
...and waiting.
I think I heard that… maybe a day ago…? Omni… the name Omni rings a bell.
...ning.
...ood morning…
“...can’t take this anymore!”
A pointed, heavy bit of something cold and hard connects with my stomach. I gasp and gag, my eyes flying open and letting the world come into focus. Droplets of rain land all over me, making my clothes just the slightest bit weightier. I notice a black, metallic boot drawing back from my stomach as I gasp for breath, clutching at my horribly pained stomach.
“By the Lords, did it take you long enough to wake up,” says a distinctly feminine but unfamiliar voice. I look up, following the metallic boot to a leg and a torso and eventually a head of blonde hair, with a pair of faded golden eyes training on me. They look almost beady, intimidating, like they want something from me.
“Elise, of Carim,” the woman says, offering a metal-plated hand. “You’ve proven yourself, sorcerer. What shall I call you?”
I flinch at the word ‘sorcerer’, first fearing it means something bad, then realizing I was just called a sorcerer. “I-- uh--” I clear my throat nervously and take the hand. “Joline. Some people call me Jojo now, though, so you can just call me that, too, if you’d like. Sorcerer works, too, I guess.”
Not taking a moment to let the topic change, I add, “so. Sorcerer. What’s that supposed to mean, anyh--” I cough and hack violently, reaching my free hand to my ribs as I’m pulled to my feet. “--ow. Okay, that, and then what happened? And where’s Ciamath?” I add, my eyes flicking from side to side, surveying the lightly smoking landscape.
“Oh? Yes, she’s asleep, as well. Primes take wake-up kicks better than Secondaries, I find,” she explains. “Further, Miss Joline, I suppose you’re ignorant toward the nature of what you just performed? It was doubtless sorcery. You should speak to a proper mage of some sort.”
I look to my hands. My fingertips are lightly charred, and through my sleeves my forearms seem to faintly glow with a tealish light. “Excuse me, what? I’m magic?” I say with complete and utter confusion. “Right. This is a dream. Pinch me.”
“I’ll do you one better,” says Elise, and something hammers me in the gut. I feel the urge to vomit. “Awake yet?”
“Now I am,” I wheeze, my eyes wide. I clutch at my chest. “Owwwww. Lemme just… I’ll wake up Ciamath,” I say as I walk over in her direction, coughing and hacking the pain away. As I do so, I try to soften my voice. She deserves a better awakening than I got.
She doesn’t look to be particularly badly injured, past a burn on her stomach. She looks as though she’s in-between being barely conscious and barely unconscious - through her eyelids little flecks of her crimson eyes can be seen now and then. Her back is to the wall, in what looks to be the same place she was knocked into.
I take a knee beside her and gently shake her shoulder. “Ciamath,” I half-sing, half-whisper. “Time to wake up…”
I get a sort of grumbly moan in response. “Ciamath,” I repeat, and open my mouth to repeat her name again--
--only to hear “Okay, okay” over and over rather lazily come from between her lips. I light up as one of her eyes peeks open, a weak flame reflecting off the faint scarlet in them.
“You took quite the hit,” I remark and smirk a bit. “How’re you holding up?”
Ciamath frowns. “I would say the same for you,” she replies, reaching a hand out and poking at my stomach. I flinch, and she draws back. I notice it felt… almost bent inwards where she touched. “That’s a nasty wound.”
I puff out my cheeks. “Yeah, taking a mace to the chest does that. I’m not bleeding, though, am I?” I ask, looking down to answer for myself. “OH, GODS, I’M BLEEDING.”
Wild-eyed and feeling sick to my stomach, I produce a sphere of Omnilium in hand and press it to my chest. Maybe I can make myself more blood, or a new stomach, or PLEASE NO MORE BLEEDING.
...And it seems to work. Something does, anyways. It feels numbing and very, very gradual, but it begins to work its magic.
Ciamath chimes in. “Omnilium is interesting, isn’t it? How it just comes to you naturally?”
I raise a brow. “Did you know I could do this? Er, we, I guess - Primes in general?” I correct myself hastily, nursing my chest-wound uncomfortably.
“No, not from experience,” she replies. “I have read and heard about such things. How Omnilium functions seems to just ‘come’ to the user. It’s not so much something you learn, as when the application becomes necessary, you simply know.”
It’s weird, I think, rubbing the rainbow substance gingerly into my gross-looking injury, but I can’t help but be grateful.
It’s not just having been hit there - I feel as though my stomach has been flipped upside-down just looking at the wound. Being hurt like this, I ponder, hasn’t really happened to me before, at least not in a long time. Being attacked is a first - even if not one to celebrate.
Being attacked, my mind echoes. As the pain fades, it starts to occur to me just how much has happened in such a short time. I grip at my stomach. It feels like not only it, but my whole world has been turned upside-down.
I shake my head and look away. The sky’s murky, like somebody mixed a bunch of colours of paint together, and it’s drizzling a little all over the remaining fire here and there. “As I think about it,” I say, feeling rather annoyed, “we didn’t really do anything here, did we…?”
“That’s not entirely true,” replies Ciamath. “There was that pyromancer. Unfortunately, I think they got away. You certainly did a number on them, but it wasn’t enough to kill them.”
I feel a weight on my shoulders lifted, but only slightly. It still irks me that, even if only for a moment, I was perfectly fine with the idea of ending somebody’s life. With a shudder I look to where I once stood, where Beskyttende now rests on the ground. “It’s not entirely wrong, though, either.”
The wood is damp, and raindrops slide along the steel reinforcing it. A half-dozen steps away, Brug Hild lies picked and chipped at but still shining on the cobblestones. I grab them both and return them to their place on my back, finding the burden of wood and metal on my back growing faintly familiar and almost welcome.
Elise looks over me, her snakelike eyes uneasing me and urging me not to do anything funny. “A shield does not suit a sorcerer,” she remarks.
My brow twitches with irritation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means what I said,” she shoots back, sounding faintly irritated. “A sorcerer burdened with a shield will find somatic components a struggle at best, excruciating at worst. Rid yourself of that thing.”
I shake my head. Even though I’ve not had it particularly long, I’m already fond of it - and even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t just throw it away. Somebody worked hard on this. Probably Jamven, as I think about it. “And if I refuse?”
“Let whoever you fight alongside complain about your shortcomings,” she says with a shrug of her spaulders. “Like the spearman there. Ciamath, is it?”
I turn my head to Ciamath. She blinks in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”
I groan and roll my eyes. “I think I’ve had just about enough about this ‘sorcerer’ mumbo-jumbo. Somatic this, mace-to-the-ribs that--”
I wince. “Still hurts, by the way,” I comment, then continue bitterly, “forget this. I need to take my mind off things.” With a puff, I turn tail and begin to walk a way I presume is out of the village.
“Joline?” goes Ciamath over my shoulder. “Where--”
“Go with her!” I shout irritably. “Go sort out this sorcerer crap! I DON’T CARE.” With how the past day’s been, I am so done. That’s gonna change, I guess, but I need a walk. I need a breather. Something. Anything.
Before I know it, the pair are out of sight. It’s raining and the faint, reddish mace-tears on the front of my dress wash out, looking pinkish again. As I plod along, my boots thump-thumping against dirt and beaten paths and grass, my hair starts to soak through and get heavy. Eventually it seems like my clothes have changed entirely.
...And I feel like my whole body is starting to get heavy. Heavier, at least. And the ground looks farther away, and my skin looks faintly darker, and my humming deepens just a bit…
I step through the portal to the Nexus with an exasperated puff of my cheeks. I hope I can find Ciamath again. Just…
Not now.