Welcome to Gaia! ::

Trouble was something Moraine was trained to look for and get involved in. Trouble was the middle name of nearly every blackheart, and she was no exception. Hunt down information, root out majin and then- cull as needed. Find witch eaters and cut them down like dogs. That was just the kind of trouble Moraine was taught to make and do. Sometimes she dealt with non majin issues, but usually she left that to the royal dogs. No point in busing herself in matters that no longer mattered to her right?

At least that is what she wished she could do. She still cared about people to be sure, but it was harder to help when people just saw a black eater and assumed heartless monsters in their own way. Better to be seen as a helpful monster than be a real one in her mind. The light clatter of her greaves on the ground, she paused in her walk, blue eyes looking for traces of magical activity. She had been told a dangerous magic user was also lurking about, but no clue if they were majin or human. No that it mattered. If they attacked, Moraine would kill them, simple enough.

A small magical touch into the plants, she sought to see if they had been touched for magic. Not much. Huffing, she crossed her arms, kicking a rock into a nearby tree. Nothing. And she had miles of wilderness to cover. No help, it was her ‘punishment’ for failing to file one mission report. One. The higher ups were being a pain in her a** on purpose.

The forest was never quite. The forest got quite when there was a threat, but the sounds of it’s birds and animals pervaded the wood. Yet another reason Moraine was getting exasperated. No signs that the forest itself held a threat. Then again, she never considered the idea that the forest only reacted to one that was a threat to itself rather than a trespasser for lack of a better word. The ice rose black heart didn’t like it. The noise could cover a great many things, the sound of wings carrying a witch eater being one of them. At least in the city, you could see a shadow, here, every tree cast a shadow, creating a natural cover, not to mention the foliage left a great number of places to hide if a majin wished it.

Utter frustration. Biting her lip, a hand went to he hip as she debated her next course of action. She could send her magic out through the roots, try to sense a majin that way, but with the space she could easily over exert herself, rendering locating a witch eater useless. She would have to leave a series of markers and traps for majin then. It would be a slow process, but, if it went well, a trip wire to send a flicker of magic back to her. Basic, but then her supervisors couldn’t say in her report that she hadn’t done anything in her attempts to find majin. What made her just feel worse the fact that she could swear she was being watched yet didn’t know where. Or by what. She didn’t want to have to kill a wild animal if she could help it. Her business was with those who would kill witches, not those who well…

Were just living as nature intended.

The feeling of being watched hit a crescendo as the heavy footfalls filled her ears. Whip out she sent it in the direct of the feet, hitting nothing but tree, whip casting a frosty coating to the bark. She made no demands, if they wanted to fight, she’d fight, but rather she hoped they ran. If they ran well.. They had something to hide. A voice and- a man. She shifted her stance, drawing her whip back. At least her had the pretty flower with thorns right. He was either cocky, or, he wasn’t looking for a fight, sitting rather than standing. Yellow flower popped up beside him and she smirked.
“Cute.” Unlike a druid’s magic that created the real thing, Moraine could only draw from what existed or, make magical. In this case, with none of her favorite flowers around she remained standing, tiny thorny vines curling up around her feet as if to say ‘mine are better’.
“I’m on a mission from my superiors to investigate rumors of a dangerous witch in the area. If it’s human I am to investigate further if majin or witch eater…” Her hand went back to her whip.

“Now a better question, what are you doing here?”

The black heart could care less about what trees and plants thought about her. She lived her life for other people’s opinions once, and that life was dead and gone. She preferred the freedom of her position now. Plus, now, she didn’t have to wear confining dresses and could dress as she liked. Even if that did mean she wanted to be somewhat reveling. She enjoyed the look on the faces of those who turned their backs on her when they saw her. She had freedom, they had yards of threads. Dresses were missed in part but she was just glad she didn’t have to deal with what people would think of her.

‘ ******** opinions, I do what I want.’ A good life motto for her.

“Dangerous witch. Reports of murders and robberies. No one is sure if they’re connected, or, the murders are witch and robberies bandits. Once uses magic, the other seems to have used weapons. Personally, I couldn’t care less about bandits, my concern is with the possibility of a witch eater.” Something bandits were thankfully not known for, their magic. The man acted relaxed, like he didn’t see her as a threat, but he had magic, and she’d shown she had her own. They would both be fools if they fought. His words still made her scowl. “You’ve met those beasts yet you don’t do your country a service and report them? Or slay them?” A snort. “They’re abominations who steal the magic and lives from humans. Parasites who would destroy us from the inside if we let them to live along side us. Really, you call yourself a druid?”

She crossed her arms, hardly impressed with the man. “I would apologize to the trees, but then that would require I care about their feelings. I’m a black heart, I’m paid not to care.” She smirked, hitting one of the trees again with her whip. “I’ll care when it can cry.” Cruel, blue eyes were hard as the man asked questions.

“That a witch is killing people. Slowly, or quickly. It changes. We’ve found toxins in the victims, and one was killed by a witch eater before the poison took them. If it’s not one, it’s the other. The only question is if the witch eater who ate the tainted heart lived. Poison magic can linger, and not all who can make a poison can make an antidote.

She sighed. “None of the victims have any relation, only that they entered these woods. Now then as I have answered your questions, answer mine. Who are you, and why are you consorting with those abominations?”

If she had known what he was thinking of her, Moraine would be torn between amused and flattered. Amused, as most men didn’t bother complimenting the disgraced or the hated, and flattered as sometimes to be thought of as beautiful was enjoyable in it’s own way. But she’d happily avoid the fight if she could… provided she didn’t lose. Loss meant death more then she liked to think about. Yellow flowers gone, she tilted her head at the action. Druids were so strange to her. What he said however was not what she expected.

Very few times was Moraine stunned into silence. A rare moment was the one now presented, and she was at a loss for words. She had assumed the man was like most, trained by his people or by another. A small drop of guilt she bowed her head slightly, admonishing herself for her assumptions. She knew little of druids. Perhaps the self raised aspect was common with them. She just knew they kept to the wilds more often than not, and dealt with nature, but- “My apologies. It’s considered common knowledge in more… populated sectors. My sympathies for your loss as old as it may be as well.” Even if she was bitter and cold, Moraine still held sympathy. She still held onto part of herself.

“You are lucky though, most with eaters make no distinction in their prey, only taking what they want. Keeper of a forest or not, they wouldn’t hold back if they felt their hunger for magic around you. There was ways to help protect yourself from their ilk. Perhaps in being a druid you might be more skilled at it than we black hearts. They are not human after all.” A small smirk. “Perhaps in that line of thought, we might to bring in more druids. If your kind could sense majin from human it would be a highly useful skill in rooting them out. Most I can do is send out my magic to seek traces of them. You get better with time and training, but some can mask what they are with skill.” The glare only made her smirk wider.

She resisted the urge to hit the trees again. An angry man gave information more easily, but, he seemed genuine in his dealing with the witch eaters. “Well, pity I can’t. They might help me in finding where they abominations are hiding. Still, I suppose it won’t help in the end. Little they can do to stop them.”

Bane. An interesting name for a man who was proving interesting in his own way. “One would think the forest itself is a companion. I mean, you just told me you could talk to the trees. They are probably less demanding than us humans at any rate. Gods above know they would demand less than my superiors. But then being around other people.. it can be nice.” Something she found herself craving in the cold castle she now called her home. Black hearts didn’t get much in terms of friendship. Just the scraps. And with her background, those who hated royals already… she was limited already, her bloodline just made it worse. “It’s good of you to help travelers. When I train-“ She cut herself off briefly. “When I was to become and Ars Lilum we were told to always give aid. Looking back, I think it was more talk than action on their part. But, then again, I’m a bit older and more jaded about the royal witches and their work.”

The reaction to flattery had a blush followed by a small laugh. “That is a bold one. Most men think of only to harass me. For that, I am Moraine. And now I wonder if you’re as lonely as you claim. A sly handsome druid all alone in the woods. I imagine you help the lost women along quite often don’t you?” He was in her mind, drifting from a suspect.

She put the little fact about druids and how they sensed majins into her head for later. It was definitely something to look into. The more who could fight for the humans the better. Ticking time bombs, majins couldn’t be trusted. To sense them by scent alone would be a great asset. No more days spent scouring acres of land to try and maybe pick up a trail. No more having to play a guessing game on the streets, to simple know who to be wary of, who to watch and look out for. “it’s possible that they use the forest to flee after they feed, some will prey and then hide, letting other witch eaters take the fall for them. And the very least, we can take some comfort in the fact they are not organized. They would just as soon turn on each other if they so felt like it.” A fact she was always happy for, last thing they needed was a majin leader, or a leader of witch eaters.

“Majin are… it’s a bit difficult to explain. They’re born as humans are, but without a soul of sorts. They lack the spark that makes us humans human. So, they hunger for magic, for witch hearts. Some can go years without knowing what they are, but once they have the hunger it never fades. Once it starts it’s only a matter of time before the cave into their cravings and steal a witch’s heart. Stealing the heart leaves behind a husk. Sometimes the victims die. Other times they go comatose… but they never recover. There are.. ideas to how to save them, return their hearts, but it’s nearly impossible. Once a witch’s heart is stolen it’s gone. And unlike the romantic sense, it’s not something that can be healed.”

Sadness crossed over her face, even after so long, the memories were bitter, and her guilt remained. “I lost my family to majin, a witch eater. My own brother no less. He stole our mother’s heart and tried to take mine. I killed him, then our mother out of mercy. Something a noble is not to do. I refused to die, so I chose to become a blackheart. I lost everything to the monster my brother became in the course of a single night. The royal guards didn’t see what I saw in my brother’s magic hungry eyes, the ars lilium didn’t see what had been done to my mother’s mind. I did, and I spared them both their suffering. Old wounds, they never heal. They remind me why I can’t trust majin, because even if you love them, they can and will destroy you. They are subjects to their nature. You can’t save a creature doomed to suffer from the start.” A sad shake of her head. “But enough of my past troubles. They are just that, the past. We have better things to discuss.” She waved it off.

“I still think it must be interesting to hear the plants. I suppose it must be like listening to two humans speaking in another language from another culture. I can only guess, yet I will wonder. Unlike the humans however, I don’t think I could learn to talk to plants and trees. I can make magical copies-“ A vine at her feet crawling up, blue roses blooming along the stem. A tap, they turned to ice, the vines at her feet gone. “And elemental copies, but not much more. Plant manipulation might be a specialty, but- hrm, never considered how they might view my magic.”

A slight smile. “Or how a strange druid might view me. Your tastes don’t really matter to me. The black hearts take whoever we can get at times. Few things shock you as time goes on, and after a while you learn how insignificant such things are. I am guessing if you’re being so forward, I must be perfect in some way. So I’ll take it as it is.”

Moraine considered it. Majin meddling, that seemed about right. They liked to cause chaos and disorder, feeding off of emotional strain… was an interesting theory. Maybe they hung around nobles and the courts then. Moraine paused, chuckling to herself at the thought. “Pardon, but hrm, maybe. They enjoy causing trouble, at least many do. The ones to really watch out for are those with cunning, who know how to avoid getting into trouble but making just enough to cover their deeds. Those are the ones that we watch for the most, as they are often the hardest to find.”

To the question of druids Moraine gae a shake of her head. “That I can’t tell you for sure. I’ve never heard of a majin druid, though I do know of majin with plant and organic magic. As far as druids go your best bet would to be ask others of your kind. They’re a secretive lot, though, you’ve shown me a few examples of just how so.” The hint of a smile. “It’s something worth looking into at any rate. You ask me questions and give me odd answers.. I find myself making a mental list of things to investigate when I return to Poena Privus. Better than what I was doing.” She looked off into the woods with a scowl. “I’m not a druid, but they expect me to cover the whole forest investigating. I think it’s just a way to keep me from the castle.” She sighed and shrugged.

A curious look to the trees, she reached out with her magic, urging them to grow and mend, bark knitting back together. “And now they can feel better.” Granted, it was a waste of her magic. Healing was not her forte, not even with plants. “If you get in trouble with an enclave or some other druids you can say I was holding you for interrogation.” She pat her whip. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve held a man and had him give me some answers. This is a just a case where there was less… force involved. As to slapping you in the face-“ She crossed her arms, going over to a different tree, leaning back. “Try me. I live in a castle full of men, witches, and soldiers. I dress free of modest womanly ideals. Oh I might want to slap you but you said it yourself, I’d give you a run for your money in a fight. Why slap a man when you can bring him to his knees begging for mercy?” She smiled like it was an everyday thing.

“Some men just expect certain things. I just expect common courtesy and decency. If that makes me have an attitude then I worry for women who don’t.”