Qwen's Bad Day - The Stone Awakens
This should have been Farqwen’s day to relax…kick back, chill, and thoroughly enjoy the afternoon sorting through the pile of manuscripts and old books that he’d collected in the past month and still hadn’t really had a chance to got through. It gave him the sort of ‘kid in a candy shop’ feel, and he relished it thoroughly. So he had set aside a day to do suchly…his vacation day. He’d scheduled no odd jobs, no consultations, and no guests…the entire day cleared, and since Verin was out of town for the moment, the house would have been his to enjoy, peace, quiet, and an entire playlist of slow jazz.
A nice dream, but one that had been horrifically shattered by a desperate call from one of his other half-relatives, you know, one that wasn’t Farla. Dammit, why the hell had Morifaer thought it was a good idea to screw or be screwed by every other attractive body on the face of the planet? Darindoll was, however, a charming little guy, but he hadn’t the faintest idea how to cope in an emergency situation, tended to break down and cry.
As it turned out, Dari and his lover Alyan had had a fight, and Darindoll hadn’t a clue what to do about it…quite convinced that Aly was never coming back. Well it made sense that he would think that way, considering what sort of a b*****d had spawned both Darindoll and Farqwen himself. Soothing Darindoll and sending him off for a nap, Qwen had put in a call to his dearest, darlingest nephew Alyan…and proceeded to cuss him out rather thoroughly. Little snit had no call to be upsetting Dari over something stupid, and besides, Qwen needed someone to bash for having been called away on his vacation day.
Long story short, the issue was resolved, and Dari, in his gratitude, offered Qwen a box of odds and ends that he’d filched at some point from god knows where, and Qwen, all too eager to get to what he’d been wanting to do, accepted, tucking the box under his arm and heading back home…at which point it started to rain. Screw life, screw today…and Qwen hadn’t even worn anything suitable to be out in such weather, which resulted in one drenched, irritable, cursing elf…who then discovered that he’d left his keys and therefore locked himself out of the house.
It took him a good, solid fifteen minutes to remember a spell as trivial as an unlocking charm, and so when he was inside, he made a beeline for the towels, leaving puddles of water on the carpet in his wake…and stripping out of his sopping robes, he put on a pair of loose pants and proceeded to mop the stuff up, swearing vigorously as he did so and wishing a curse of drought on the area surrounding the entire city.
A shower, hair-drying session and two cups of coffee later, Qwen’s vanity assuaged, he finally was able to perch on one of the soft, obscenely comfy armchairs with his stack of goodies (+1 box) on the table. Wiggling his fingers in gleeful anticipation, he then started with a particularly promising set of rune-adorned parchments, any of which might contain a new spell or some particularly valuable piece of information. Either would be utterly dandy in his book.
A few hours later, with stacks about him now in neat piles, his hands finally reached for that box that Dari had given him, curiosity now flaring in his eyes at the lure of the unknown. Undoing the simple latch, he opened it up…to discover many, small baubles inside, mostly jewelry, but a few obvious good luck charms, and possibly enchanted items. Hmmm, not particularly valuable, but not a useless find either, though repetitive appraisal spells could be a vexing chore.
Quite suddenly, however, fingertips frozen on a particularly pretty piece…lapis and silver…the mage paused, head tilting to one side as though to listen. Empathy ran strong in his family, so he understood it when it came to him…a feeling, an emotion, small, but sure…coming from…the box?
Upset…frustration…
Dumping the contents of the box out onto the small table that he’d been using as a sorting area, he began fingering the contents one by one…an engraved pendant, a jade stone, a feathered charm…no, not a one…finally, he brushed something, and the sound became louder, the echo of emotions within his mind. For something to touch him so intimately, project itself into his thoughts…it made him uncomfortable.
Picking up the smooth stone, he wrinkled his nose, holding it up to the light of the lamp. “Onyx, huh?” He mused, just before a wisp of shadow came snaking from the stone itself, brushing his fingertips, causing him to release the stone in surprise, a sudden curse falling from his lips. Just what was this? Some sort of demon possession? He wouldn’t be surprised, he’d seen poltergeists and the like far more inconspicuous.
But now, the stone was hovering and bobbing on its own, shadowy tendrils extending about it, waving at the mage in a friendly fashion…and Qwen could feel a concrete sense of pleasure…satisfaction…emanating from the stone. “Are you…supposed to do that?” He inquired, raising a brow at his newfound ‘friend’. When no answer met him, he supposed that the stone was harmless enough, he could sense no overwhelming sense of malice…plenty of self-satisfaction though. “Better watch yourself, pal, there’s not room enough in this house for two egos the size of mine.” The shadow wavered, but came over to the mage’s extended hand, the stone bobbing just above fingertips, refusing to let the elf dampen its mood.
Rolling his eyes, Qwen reached for his cup of coffee, “Look ghostie, demon rock or whatever you are…just sit there and behave, all right? I still have to finish going through these papers, then we can talk….and no funny business!”
Obediently, the stone floated over to rest on the table atop a pile of already sorted parchments, only emanating a wisp of shadow now and then. Qwen knew the appearance was deceiving, however…for the Onyx’s presence was still lurking within his mind, like a distant hum.
“…screw my life…”
