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 Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 3:32 pm
Yellow sunlight spilled through gnarled branches, lighting up stiff sprigs of brown-green leaves and pouring onto red dirt and several patches of tough grass. Eowyn’s winds, even in the highest peaks of the Terra Expanse, were warm with full summer on this day, and dry as the sands of its desert.
Ataya Doryu sat with his back to the trunk of a weathered tree. His loose hair caught the occasional breeze like dark, tattered sails, each gust sending the strands of it skittering across his mottled skin only to catch on his knobby scales. But he paid it no mind. Several hundred paces up and around the mountain from his family home — far further than he was ‘supposed’ to be — his intended goal in seeking out seclusion was to practice in private, and read without interruption. So he did.
He sat cross-legged, a disproportionately large, battered, brown-leather book open and nested in his lap between his folded legs, his brow furrowed with concentration. Some fifteen or so paces in front of him, lined up across the dirt, waited a row of seven stones: evenly spaced, each increasing in size and weight as the line went along. After drawing his finger once again along the yellowed page and text before him, Ataya lifted a hand, palm up, and held it outstretched with his fingers splayed.
“Anona’ai…onai’ah…” He curled his back fingers in first — pinky, ring, middle, and then forefinger — in a coiling gesture as his eyes and energy pinpointed the middle stone.
After the incident with the ysalis, Ataya’s will to learn magic — real, offensive, damaging magic that he could use to protect himself and his sister — had solidified to absolute determination. If Father considered them old enough to learn to wield a bow and dagger, there couldn’t be an argument that he wasn’t also old enough to learn the equivalent from a spellbook. He needed it, and he refused to be useless. Not again. Whatever magic he had managed to conjure in that time of need had been enough for one tiny dragon, but barely so, and it had exhausted him near to the point of unconsciousness.
He needed efficiency. Power. Something real.
So, he snuck off.
Over the months since that night, Ataya had smuggled several texts ‘forbidden’ to him out of Uncle Lithian’s library supply. The man had more books than he knew what to do with, and an ever growing supply to boot, so Ata felt confident he could return it before it was missed. He also managed to find some scrolls of his mother’s in their ‘basement’ — that is, the portion of their house built into the mountain itself, technically underground, though it was level with the rest of their structure — and snuck all such works off to his own, private stashes.
Some, he kept right here.
After practicing to perfection several rudimentary level sealing and protective wards to keep away the elements, said spells in combination with a few rocks and a little foliage was more than enough to keep a couple spare texts out of sight, dry, and safe for study where he wouldn’t get into trouble or be interrupted. He couldn’t stray from home for long of course, lest he have a one-man search team on his tail, but at their current ages, he and his sister weren’t kept confined to the absolute immediate premises of their house anymore — however much his father might have liked such a rule — and, with the limited freedom he was permitted, Ataya made the most of his time.
Currently, he was working on fine tuning his levitation spells.
One, two, three — with another murmur of spellwords and a push of mental energy funneled into pinpoints around each rock, he lifted the line one at a time. Up, up, up. When each was hovering over the ground, casting shadows perhaps an arm’s width beneath them, Ataya lifted his second hand, dropping it from the pages of the tome itself, pinching midair and motioning the smaller stones into a makeshift ‘orbit’ around the largest in the center. As it settled into place, spinning evenly and obediently, he grinned — entirely too self-satisfied.
Now, to begin attempting to hit them with damage spells…
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 6:18 pm
The valleys had grown dull.
Despite the constantly shifting elements, and the ever-changing and astounding array of flora and fauna, everything seemed harder to appreciate when a certain golden pet wasn't trailing after him. Collecting shining new and intriguing things was now a particularly stressful event, for fear that anything of particular importance would be taken from him, as had been the collection he'd obtained when Angelique was at his side. Pouncing on rodents and small, dully-feathered birds was outright boring. Even exploring caves filled with flying meat had lost its charm.
So it was more out of habit, and a rebellious need to show his clan leaders that he wouldn't cow beneath them from a little pressure, that Dysarrin slunk out from under the watchful gaze of the elders and dipped away from the tutelage of Ralekraes, his Firani "instructor," so to speak. He refused to believe that the elder hybrid simply allowed it out of some twisted form of pity, because that was just insulting. Never mind that it shouldn't be so easy to escape the notice of a seasoned warrior. He could probably just chalk it up to personal skill and achievement. That made much more sense.
Kraes' deficiency in skill aside, Dysarrin still found himself scuffing through the thin, twiggy trees at the base of the valley, kicking up dirt with his bare feet and muttering obscene things about others of his clan. He paced as far as the edge of the clan's domain, obscured from passerby by the lining of a short crag, perhaps no more than three times Dysarrin's own height. He stared at the wall, a frown slowly creasing its way across his face.
There was no telling what lay across it. Other purebloods, probably. But they wouldn't be like Golden Pet. They'd be more like the selfish, brainless birds from the elder's stories. It would be harder to keep one of them. And they might not even have warm magic. That was boring. He didn't want that. The only suitable caster was Golden Pet, and the stupid, weak girl let herself die. Useless, wasteful creature. He huffed and plopped his forehead against the rocks, rumbling about all the good she did him when she wasn't even alive.
Perhaps whatever god watched over hybrid scum mistook it for a prayer, because a single feather drifted from the top, skimming along the edge of the crag until it fell to the ground, just to the left of Dysarrin's foot. His gaze followed it's movement without even meaning to. As it settled lightly upon the dirt, his eyes widened. Yellow. Not quite like Golden Pet, but close. Close enough that the hybrid boy's gaze jerked up to hunt for the source of the silky thing.
The sun peaked over the edge, half blinding him as he tilted his head back to stare in the direction the feather had come from. Only a tiny oblong shadow peeked over the edge at him, and after only a moment, it was gone, leaving only a soft chiming sound in its wake.
Dys stared after it, willing his vision to defy the sun's rather and see more. But he couldn't. Did he really need to? Whatever it was had disappeared to the other side. It was gone forever.
But not really.
If it was Golden Pet's spirit, she'd wait for him, like she always did.
He started climbing, fanning his wings and flapping them to give him even a tiny bit of extra propulsion. She wouldn't wait forever. As his claws scrabbled along the top after only a few moments of scrambling up the crags, Dys managed to haul himself up high enough to peek over the top. As his gaze rose to level with the edge, a blurry shape quickly descended down along the other side, leaving another feather fluttering toward his nose.
He growled, furious and hopelessly intrigued by this alleged taunting. Claws raked at the rocks and the wind from his wings sent plumes of dust up from beneath him. But following the trail of golden feathers was important now. Maybe even necessary. He descended down the other side much quicker than he'd climbed, sliding down only a few feet before kicking off and fanning his wings to glide safely to the ground.
The thing dipped into the trees, and he followed.
And followed.
And followed.
More than once, he thought it was gone, but it waited at the edge of his vision, perching in the shadows or tucked behind a cluster of foliage. It led him (if it could be called leading) far out of the clan's range, into a thicket of large, dying trees the likes of which Dysarrin had never seen before. When he was sufficiently lost, the creature vanished, and for all his searching, he didn't see it again.
The wind was stronger here as it rolled off the mountains. It made everything rustle and sing, and every sound had Dysarrin spinning in that direction in hopes of seeing a faint yellow glimmer at the edge of his vision.
When something undeniably solid moved from behind the leafy confines of a tree, Dys was too wound up with frustration and annoyance to wait and see if it was even something he wanted. he dove for it, kicking through dust and rocks until his claws scraped against smooth stone and ripped it to the ground. From the air. He stared at it from where he crouched over it. A rock. Grey and dull and no larger than his fist and completely ordinary. Save for that it had been in the air. With a rumbled growl, he swiveled to face it's previous location.
Instead, he caught sight of mottled, purpley skin and a swatch of dark hair. Unusual, unexpected, and completely unwelcome.
He stilled instantly.
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 6:41 pm
Ataya stared at the trespasser, a startled scream having lodged itself in his throat halfway out, because—
This was not a beast. For all that it was large, and loud, and snarling, and for all that it smelled and moved on all fours — like an animal — as it had come leaping up the side of the mountain and bounding into the rocks he had been just about to start using as target practice, this…thing was no animal.
Or, at least Ataya was fairly certain it wasn’t. It looked a good bit like a boy. But hairier. With claws. And filthy. Had he emphasized enough, yet, that it smelled? Enough of an odor, in fact, that he picked it up distinctly despite being a good fifteen paces away still, and upwind. After his pulse worked its way back down his throat, he narrowed his eyes. Surprise and — no, not fear — well…really just surprise wearing off, irritation set in in its place.
“You messed it up!” he accused. “I’m practicing here. This is my spot.” Then, considering that this might perhaps be the only ‘child’ he ever saw his age in the area (since it certainly was the first child his age he’d ever seen in the area — and, honestly, the first child he’d seen at all here other than his sister), he softened his tone a fraction. Best not to scare it off immediately? “What are you? Or, er…who are you? I’m Ataya.” And, just for clarification… “And those are my rocks. You should put them down.”
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 7:06 pm
The thing he'd found was decidedly not Golden Pet.
It didn't shimmer or glisten or bestow warm magic upon him. It didn't whine or cringe. But it did, as Dys was soon to discover, yell at him, much more abrasively than some scrawny pureblooded female had been able to. he bristled immediately before collecting the rock in his palm and hurtled it at the strange being's legs with a sharp flick of his wrist and accented with a wad of spit to show his displeasure.
At the same time, it almost spoke like Golden Pet, like it had much to say that could only be conveyed with words. That was interesting. He crept closer, edging in a circle around the front of the other two-legger with a wary hiss of warning. It didn't look like any pureblood he knew of. Funny-shaped horns and scales and purple-patched skin. Certainly not an Orderite. He took up a post behind it, staring at it's shoulder as he fought to figure this creature out. It was on the other side of the crag. It had to be a pureblood.
He leaned in, giving the thick swatch of fabric at its ship an inquisitive sniff before rising to his feet and speculatively plucking at the strands of its hair. The strange stinging smell of flowers mixed with some type of cleansing poultice hit him, and he shook his head in discontent. It definitely wasn't from the clans. But it was weird and new and it yelled at him. Dysarrin huffed as he grabbed the other boy's arm and gave it an experimental yank.
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 7:26 pm
Ataya yelped at the throw of the rock, darting messily aside just in time and managing to give a tiny pulse of magic as well to divert it, at least, away from his vulnerable ankles. Just as he opened his mouth to berate the thing for being not only needlessly rude, but violent — What had he done to it, after all? — suddenly the messy boy-thing was in front of him. Within several fingers’ breadths from his face. And—
By the gods did it ever smell.
He might have opened his mouth to complain more, except he barely dared to breathe, nose wrinkling up in distaste instead. Then, just before he did say something, it—did it just smell him? Perhaps he was wrong, and it was just some kind of odd, boy-shaped animal after all because it was absolutely not behaving like any boy he knew.
Not that, come to think of it, Ataya knew much of anything about boys. Or anything at all, other than himself, and it did stand to reason that not all boys were quite so refined as he—
“Hey, no!” he snapped when the thing plucked at his hair. “You can’t just touch my—”
Then, it yanked at him, so roughly and rudely that Ataya moved without — unfortunately — so much as half a second’s thought on what the consequences might be as his free hand whipped up, striking the thing palm-flat across the face and nose with an audible slap as though disciplining a poorly-trained animal. Only in the aftermath, as he jerked in its grip and couldn’t immediately pull free (much stronger than he anticipated), did Ataya consider that perhaps physical violence was not his best go-to option after all.
He swallowed, and scowled at it, attempting to look menacing. Or, at the very least, not like someone with their pulse thumping to a panicked rhythm in their throat, like his was.
“Let go…” The ‘demand’ came out with significantly less force than he might have hoped for.
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 8:05 pm
It was certainly a negative creature, brimming with "no's" and unappreciative, complaintive looks and a very clear, adamant refusal to want to be in within an arm's length of him. It had to know, then. Like any prey in the presence of its predator, it had to know that it was inferior and vulnerable. His wings ruffled and the beginnings of a self-satisfied smirk slid across his lips as the other being staggered from his pull.
The sting whipped across his face a second too late, leaving him, for a moment, stunned, confused, and still. This creature - he belatedly remembered that it had called itself 'Ataya' - couldn't possibly be the source. But its shaky demand told him otherwise. His head tipped, thick brows pinching together and lids narrowing to show a fraction of the glinting green orbs behind them.
What precisely did Ataya think it was going to accomplish? It wanted to fight? Was this a challenge? It was tiny and pitiful and couldn't even escape his grasp, but somehow it seemed like a good idea to- Strange pureblood boy had to learn.
The low, rumbling growl Dys emitted was accented by a thick, heavy pulse of heat that swamped out around him. He raised his gaze to glower directly into his (apparently) now-captive's face before ripping him forward to collide with Dysarrin's chest. With a snarl, he lurched forward, both his arms locking around the thing's shoulders and smashing him into the ground. Without hesitation, he drove down and buried his teeth in that strange purply skin right above Ataya's elbow.
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 8:38 pm
Ataya squeaked, his attempts to pull away as he was yanked forward as futile as before. Then suddenly there was nothing but smell and dirt and terrifying downwards momentum, weight, scales, claws, heat, and snarling as the thing pinned him to the earth and—
“OW!”
It BIT him.
Ataya struck out once, futilely, screeching in frustration, and attempted — with similarly limited success — to kick at the thing. Then, wondering why it hadn’t occurred to him earlier, he snapped out a quick string of simple spellwords, creating a familiar, but especially bright ball of light directly in the biting monster-beast-boy-thing’s eyes. Immediately after, relying its — hopeful — surprise and temporary incapacity (or at least no more bites), he gathered a stinging dark spell into his palm and tossed it at the nearest grip holding him down. Probably not enough to do more than mirror the hurt of the bite, but enough to give him time to scramble messily out from under the thing and snap at it.
“Don’t bite! It’s…mean. And you’re stupid. I’m leaving and—and if you’re not gone when I come back, my daddy’ll stick you full of so many arrows, you couldn’t count them all even if you could count…‘cause…I bet you can’t!”
Did that sound sufficiently insulting?
He wasn’t entirely sure.
But hopefully the thing at least understood — since he had no evidence yet that it could even speak in any sort of language, let alone his own — and he, unfortunately, did not have time to find out if he wanted to assure escape. Turning on his heel, Ataya broke into a run. Sort of.
It was one of the many times he really, truly wished he had at least a little more physical prowess.
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 9:20 pm
The amount of squirming and wailing one child could do was apparently more than Dys had previously believed was possible. When it spoke in some completely foreign, garbled tongue, Dys was forced to crane back to curiously stare at it in an attempt to decipher this new and unusual dialect. What he received instead was an eyeful of blinding, searing light, making him reel back with an agitated spit of annoyance. He freed one disturbingly bony shoulder to swat at the light, rumbling out a complaint at it as if it controlled itself.
His other arm snapped away from the boy as something that he didn't quite see attacked him from that angle, and he whirled toward it to give it an unappreciative snarl as well even as he drew his arm toward himself and safely out of harm's way. The spots that danced over his vision were still far more worrisome, and he was only aware of Ataya scrambling from underneath him because of the hurried, blundering sounds emitting from slightly farther away.
The sounds of angry ramblings reached him as Dys leaned back into a low crouch. If he squinted, he could just barely make out the scrawny thing facing him and griping or threatening or... whatever it was doing. It was unimportant, really, because what was more intriguing was how combative it was.
Completely unlike Golden Pet in that regard.
And Golden Pet had nice, warm magic. This one's magic bit him, almost like Kraes', just... not as hard.
Green eyes flicked down to where the spell had hit him, and he thumbed over the affected area with a quiet hum. It wasn't a useless thing, maybe even an okay thing for something so seemingly teeny and pathetic. It wailed a lot, but maybe that was a pureblood thing... If Zenith wanted all the purebloods, maybe he'd want this one. Then he could get all of Golden Pet's stuff back, maybe.
But pureblood two-legger was running. Unacceptable. With a growl, he dropped to all fours, leaping after the strange boy and overtaking him in a few long bounds. He swerved and skid to a halt before him, wings fanning to effectively block his path. "Stay," he growled.
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2014 9:47 pm
Ataya blinked.
For a long moment, all he could think upon hearing the single, guttural word spill from the other’s lips was: it could talk. He beamed for all of half a second, temporarily thrilled. If it could talk, then that meant that perhaps they could talk. Together. And do things! Maybe it even had a name and—
Then, he remembered the full weight of the surrounding circumstances, and frowned. Even if it could talk, that didn’t changed the fact that it had growled at him, thrown a rock at him, bit him, and now was attempting to give him orders, of all things. No, no. It definitely could not be a completely ordinary friend. Even he, who knew nothing about what it meant to have a friend, knew that.
He eyed it for a long, calculative moment. Not all animal — probably — but almost certainly not all boy either. Strong. And vicious. Poorly mannered, dirty, and very, very stupid. But if it could talk even a little, then perhaps it could be taught.
Trained, even.
At that thought alone, Ataya’s mood lifted significantly. Yes. If he could train it, then it could be his friend! Maybe. Sort of. Well. At the very least, he could show it off to Akara, and perhaps if he was very successful, he could teach it to do things. Useful things. Like protect him from other, bigger things. And intimidate soft-minded pureblood children if he ever managed to take it into town.
Father would never let him keep it…
But then, none of this meant he had to tell Father about it.
Shaking his head, Ataya put the thoughts aside for the moment. First things first. The wild beast-creature — it really needed a name; perhaps he could give it one? — had to know that he was in charge.
“No,” he told it, enunciating firmly and stamping a foot down for emphasis as he stepped forward. “You stay. I go. No following.”
Hoping that loud, clear, slow words might get through its thick, dirty skull, Ataya moved to step around it.
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2014 2:24 pm
Dysarrin's face soured, his lips puckering into a thin, dark line and his brows pinching together in frustration. Why did pureblood creature think it had rights? He told it to stay, and it was obviously inferior to him, so the universe dictated that it was supposed to obey. Maybe even whimper and little and beg for it's life, but Ataya clearly wasn't having any of that. This must be what the 'entitlement' he'd heard of looked like; when stinking purebloods thought they were better and deserved more even though the were puny and weak and spent their days hiding in obnoxiously-sized cities.
Disgusting.
And irritating, Dys realized as a particular bolt of dissatisfaction shot through him when Ataya stomped. He spat at the other child as it took a step forward and lurched to the side to hold himself in its path. Where did it even plan on going? Did it have a city close by it could hide in? Briefly, Dys cast a quick glance over his shoulder, as if he could perhaps see such a place from where he stood. But no, just trees and grass and dirt and mountain, hardly any different from where he lived, himself.
With a rumble of disappointment, he turned his glare back on Ataya; persistent, demanding, tiny little Ataya and his desire to escape. "Said stay," Dysarrin hissed, his tattered, burnt orange wings giving a short flap and sending up a spew of dried grime that rolled directly into the other boy. If that wasn't enough of a deterrent, he settled one clawed hand on his prey's stomach and shoved with enough force to propel a small child backwards.
He didn't need it to stay long, just long enough to figure out how to transport it to his leader. If it didn't have biting magic, he could probably carry it, maybe. If it wasn't an obnoxiously long, very uphill trek back to camp. Not that it was a particular problem when he weighed the value of his other things. But it would take too long, and he'd be tired, and he wasn't greatly enthused about being spellstruck again. Stupid complicated purebloods. He glared at it as he mulled over his options.
It had said it was going to come back. It had even called this place 'it's spot,' so maybe Ataya was here a lot? Losing it would be a pain, but if it came back, he could hunt it later, after he weighed his options a little more. And unamused grunt hummed from his throat and he leaned back, perching on the balls of his feet. With a huff, he disinterestedly tossed his gaze to the side to study one of the large, gnarled trees.
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2014 4:13 pm
Ataya yipped as the other’s shove sent him stumbling. So pushy. Seconds after opening his mouth to bark at it again, however, he shut his lips. Words clearly weren’t getting through to it, and he’d already tried running once; the thing was clearly faster than him, and stronger. But maybe, he thought, if he distracted it…
Ataya nibbled his lip in thought, studying the creature as it waited. What, he wondered, would hold the attention of a boy-beast-thing for long enough for him to escape? A rock? An animal? He had none of those on hand. A magic trick? Perhaps a dancing ball of light, or…
Overhead, something cawed — a bird’s cry followed by a quick, ripple of darkness across the red dirt of the mountainside — and Ataya watched with riveted attention, temporarily fascinated. A shadow. Immediately after, his gaze darted to the wild boy’s. Father had a tome of shadow manipulation, and Ataya had snuck peeks into it in the past. He wasn’t magnificent at it, but he didn’t have to move it far, nor was it terribly large.
Humming to himself, Ataya shifted, narrowed his eyes in concentration, and pressed his palms flat to the earth. “Illithir…darikkum melei…” he murmured, quietly enough that the words came out barely audible over the mountain breeze. The magic pinned on the shadow’s edges and, focussing absolutely on shape, Ataya plucked, crimping his fingers in a fraction over the dirt and then shifting. Like a puppet, the boy-thing’s shadow rippled, and moved, leaning sidelong and then ‘stepping’ away from its master. Ataya bit back a self-satisfied grin.
It took a sizeable bit of energy to maintain control over the entire thing — at least for his limited skill range — but after having it wave and scurry up several ‘steps’ in front of the boy-thing on the dirt, it didn’t take terribly long for the intended recipient to notice his loss. Ataya made the shadow run, and — as soon as he thought he had half an opening — he, too, darted off, down the mountain in the opposite direction. Towards home.
Akara would never believe him.
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2014 6:35 pm
Something danced along the edge of his vision, something dark and flighty, something that was always there and moving in tandem with him. Except Dys was still. The leaves of the trees rustled and smattered their own shadows across the dirt, but by no means should that allow his own darkened stamp to pull away from him and walk of its own accord. His gaze turned sharply downward as the thing plucked away from him, pulling its feet free of where they attached to his.
A rumble, somehow simultaneously wary and curious, vibrated from his chest. He extended a claw to prod it against the ground and was rewarded with a twitch from his shadow as it moved away from him. Vaguely, he was aware of Ataya watching him, doing strange things with his fingers to make the shadow move. He cast the other child a last glare. For now, keeping it was out of the question, but it would come back, and so would Dys. So even if he wanted to chase the fleeing prey (it'd be a lie to say he didn't consider it), Dys stayed. Instead, he engaged this new thing. This interesting, strange, almost fun- he kicked from the ground and pounced at it, swiping a hand across the dirt to gain another flurry of movement- type of magic.
As Ataya drew farther away, the spell wore off, and the distorted silhouette of his frame merged back to its more conventional, boring place attached to his feet. His wings dipped and flicked, mumbling in discontent at the loss as he twisted to stare over his shoulder. Ataya had fun magic.
Interesting...
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