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Character: Ataya
Stage: Adept
Luck: 61
Creature: Peisio Dragon x 4
Success Rate: 6 - 100

Win x 4: (35 x 4)/2 = 70

Total: 70exp, Levels to ? with ?/? exp left over, +? stat points to distribute, + 4 Peisio Dragon Orbs

Word Count Required: 1,200+
Final Word Count: -

Sea birds garbled to each other over the sound of the surf—louder and ever-more obnoxious in Ataya’s opinion than inland fowl, and less graceful to boot. Or, so he had thought when he could see them.

With each inward swell, the salt ocean rolled over and enfolded his bare toes, bubbling with the natural foam of crashing white caps, and Ataya’s mind wandered as he padded over the wet sand, the barest touch of frost ghosting out from each footstep to dust the otherwise warm sand and sea and warn him of any approaching obstacles. It had been a year and a half since the loss of his sight, and he still found himself waking up some mornings and expecting more than he got when he opened his eyes.

But no matter.

That was not the subject for the day. He was, for the moment, far down the shoreline and out of range of the town not for the purpose of moping or wallowing in self pity, but rather to attain at least some temporary degree of privacy. He curled his toes again as he took another step, nudging their tips just beneath the wet sand and feeling as he walked. The goal was simple enough in prospect: to locate a specific aquatic, fungal specimen which took root from seeds which often made their home in the shallow, damp sands of tidal areas just beneath the surface. In theory—knowing its general shape, size, and texture—finding it by feel ought to have been wholly manageable.

In practice, Ataya was not sure what to expect, but it didn’t hurt to try. So, he went. At least, he thought, there was no one to witness his slow going, nothing but the sun and sea breezes to keep him company, and a soft surf to pass the time. Not to mention, of course, if he were successful, he would have a fantastic new resource for experimentation.

Not so terribly objectionable, on the whole, and blessedly peaceful.

Warm sand.

Distant gull cry.

The soft rush of the incoming surf rolling over the sand and his feet, and—blood curdling screaming with enough ear-bleeding volume to wake the dead. Ataya bristled, his magic prickling just beneath his skin and posture stiffening as the unasked for and unwelcome owner of the voice thrust themself between him and, apparently, a dragon. He moved, sinking into shadow like ink on the sand and employing the maneuver to ripple back some twenty odd paces before reforming and taking a solid shape again. It served a dual function: putting space between himself and the dragon, and putting space between himself and all that unnecessary racket.

‘You can run if you want.’

Ataya snorted. After briefly, briefly considering doing just that—or, rather, leaving of his own regard to allow the stranger to deal with the mess he had started—but the mere fact that he called it ‘running’, as though Ataya felt the need to flee the scene in a panic, was offensive enough to hold him still a moment. Add to that the full possibility that he would have to deal with the dragons anyway, regardless of if he fought them now, or later on, since they were in the beachfront area, and Ataya snorted, scowling and settling his stance. Quicker and more efficient to eradicate the problem at its root.

He gathered shadows to his fingers. “Do try not to get in my way…”

Ataya stepped out, frost prickling the air as he moved — his new method for ‘sight’ by way of calculating negative space — in efforts to locate the remaining three dragons spoken of. As his feet touched water, he let his ice magic splay, needling outward over the ocean front and then fracturing like a multi-branched tree. The first peisio’s magic pulsed, and in its wake, the sea moved.

«Two…tiny snacks…»

«I…claim the head—»

When a shadow darkened the white space that was his ‘vision’, dimming it to a dull grey, Ataya reached with his magic. Focussing his aiskala magic directly overhead, he coated the underbelly of one of the beast’s in ice—just enough to know precisely where it was and keep tabs. When it dove, Ataya moved: sinking into shadow, twitching out over the rolling sand and then coiling upwards with the dark magic he inherited from his father’s bloodline as he took shape again. Tendrils of diabi energy rippled, pouring up and over, then into the beast as it roared its objection. Ataya felt the force of its energy as it fought, the ocean surging in as though to drag him out to sea with it.

Then, just as the pulse of that dragon’s energy sputtered and winked out, an entirely new wave with the full force of one of the other dragons crashed in, taking advantage of his distraction with the first, and dragging him out into the surf.

Water spun around Ataya, sucking him down, under, and deep, drawn by the pull of powerful magic. Without his sight it was, for a moment, like being held in limbo, twisting through a coiling physical roil of darkness and changing currents. His pulse stuttered fast in his throat at first, momentarily choked by the suddenness of it all and the lack of control—completely at the mercy of the flux and flow of the dragon-manipulated swell. Then, he forced his mind into motion. His aiskala magic splintered out, freezing fragments of the surrounding sea to gain his bearings, and he stretched, toes touching to the sea floor and crimping. Not too far out.

Seconds before moving to push again with his magic — this time intent on freezing out a section for himself so as to wall off the peisio’s control and get back above water — something else grabbed at him. Curbing his initial instinct to freeze over the uninvited grip, Ataya’s face twisted instead, pinching into purse-lipped scowl that turned into flabbergasted coughing, sputtering, and glowering the instant he was dragged into far closer proximity than he ever wanted to be with his strange companion.

“What do you think you are doi—”

The stranger, though, rolled in over him, babbling, babbling, babbling and—

Nehelini.

For a fraction of an instant, Ataya’s mind tripped on the name, attempting to place it. Then, like a long-standing puzzle, every piece snapped into place at once: the useless babbling, the noise, the name.

“Ohhhhhhhhh…” Ataya’s voice dipped downward with the drawn word, only barely managing to contain an outright lip curl. “You.” At least it explained how the dovaa knew his name. If nothing else. “Well, much as I ‘appreciate’ making your acquaintance again, if you could unhand me—” Ataya accompanied the statement with a yank, attempting to drag himself out of Nehelini’s grip, “—I would be most gratef—”

The roar of a dragon reminded Ataya that a certain talkative aiskala dovaa was not his only problem. Twisting fully out of Nehelini’s grip, Ataya snapped a small series of spellwords, dragging up at his aiskala magic as he did in order to freeze the water in a growing pillar beneath him and give him standing in the midst of the shallow shore — a column of frozen ocean to stand on — before seeking out the target. It was not hard to do. When the dragon snarled, sweeping in for him, Ataya plucked his fingers upwards, crimping, guiding, and then flicking as it moved, shaping the surrounding sea up into a needle of ice that jutted up to pierce the beast on its own momentum. As it scrabbled, clawing talons into the ice and wailing, Ataya pushed further, forcing his frost down the inner walls of its throat, as deep as the magic would go until the dragon — last of the four — disintegrated.

Still standing on his pillar of ice, soaking wet, and as cross as he was wet, Ataya shot a withering glower down in the general direction of his ‘companion.’

“Now,” he said, “tell me again why you are here? And what possibly inspired you to remember me, of all things. What were you doing before you so rudely interrupted me? And on top of that—never grab me again unless I explicitly give you direct permission to. I was handling perfectly well enough on my own until you moved into my way, difficult as that might be to comprehend given your clearly, grossly limited mental capacity.”

‘Friend.’

Ataya stood for a long moment, staring blankly into emptiness because by the gods, how was he supposed to respond to tha—

Then, Nehelini made his final commentary, and Ataya choked on whatever sound he made, promptly dismissing all hope of communicating on the same wavelength with the other boy. Instead, he started towards the shore, padding out icy footsteps over the ocean’s surface to create a ‘bridge’ in his wake that he might walk as opposed to needing to swim. Upon reaching dry sand, he frosted over damp portions of his hair, then pinched with his magic, carefully plucking away the ice to keep from damaging anything. In the wake of it, his hair hung loose and dry down his back.

“No offense taken,” Ataya murmured, which wasn’t precisely true, but at this rate it didn’t seem worthwhile to explain otherwise. At the very least, the boy’s actions seemed to be well-intended — which did not count for much and proffered no bonus points in regard to his intelligence or lack thereof — but perhaps counted for something, if nothing else in that he didn’t seem to think Ataya’s mixed race was worthy of being left to drown. “But all your…valiant and heroic aims aside, you needn’t have concerned yourself. I am quite capable of managing a few water dragons on my own without…” ‘…noisy, ill-timed distractions…’ “…‘aid.’ And in so far as interrupting me is concerned, I was busy before your…” ‘…unwelcome…’ “…unanticipated arrival. But by all means, since we have not witnessed one another in years and are apparently ‘friends’, unbeknownst to me, why not tell me about yourself? Because I care.”

“My…half,” Ataya repeated.

He paused for a long stretch, considering. So far as he could tell, the boy was — if nothing else — harmless. Well intended. And persistent. It wasn’t often that Ataya kept the company of anyone this long without managing to offend them somehow, and that, in itself, was some kind of impressive he supposed. If not necessarily flattering as to its implications in regards to the other’s taste in company. But that wasn’t really Ataya’s business. He hummed. It wouldn’t hurt much, he supposed, to give the boy a break. And one never knew when it might be handy to have a ‘friend.’

“Oh, well, you know, I…rarely talk about my life,” Ataya said, frowning. “Not many people are willing to even interact with, let alone make friends with…” He let a hesitant pause run, “…people ‘like me.’ Abominations, you know…freaks of the gods’ will, is what they say. Your life, though…it sounds so trying, so filled with loss that…well, perhaps you understand, and I should apologize for my earlier rudeness if it came off that way, I simply have made a habit to not trust easily, you see? I, too, have not heard of my parents in years…I was fortunate enough, I suppose, to have actually known them, for a brief period…before they were discovered.”

Ataya turned his head away, flicking ‘uncertain’ fingers through his hair as he tucked some behind his ear and folded the opposite hand around his waist.

“When it was found what they had made together, well…I was never told exactly what happened to them for a fact. I know only that I had two older siblings, a twin — my sister closest me — and three younger, a set of newly delivered triplets at the time. We were taken from our parents, the lot of us, and promptly ‘adopted’ by a noble couple who, at the time, promised to care for us in our parents’ mysterious absence…they later told us that our parents had been killed. Executed for their crimes against the gods, and it was only raw mercy on their part that had spared us. My eldest sister, four years my senior, was gone from the family soon after, and I have heard only that she was sold into prostitution. I consider my greatest blessing that I still have the rest of my siblings near to me…even if our new caretakers are as cruel as any. You…may have noticed I lost my sight since I last saw you.”

Ataya pinched his brow, rubbing two fingers over his throat and letting another pause seep in there.

“The triplets were never healthy, you see…but my twin and I, we’ve done the best we could to care for them through all the hardship. One, I think, is not developing properly in the mind, and another has difficulty walking. They’re often scolded for it, shouted at and berated…I grew so incapable of tolerating it at one point in my sixteenth year, that I tried to stand up for them, and…well…” He dipped his lashes. “I suppose it is lucky I lost only my vision, and not my head. It’s so easy, they remind us often, to make one little useless hybrid child disappear forever. Who would notice? But thank you for…listening, at least. Though I’m sure you don’t believe me…it’s enough to have the opportunity to say it.”

For a pause, Ataya could not fathom quite how to respond, struck speechless by the apparent sincerity of the other’s answer. Then, he hastily gathered himself, clearing his throat and shaking his head.

“Oh, no,” he said. “As much as I…appreciate your offer, I think in this instance, your aid — no matter how well intended — would only worsen the situation, if not for my own family than certainly for you in the end…whatever need be done to remedy things in time, it will have to be my siblings and I of our own power. Fortunately, as we have endured this long…well, I can only pray that we manage to keep up as we have, and that I myself become formidable enough in time to bring a change to things.”

Ataya paused, considering the other’s offer. He had come looking for aquatic seeds to further his own experiments, and given the progression of his own training, peisios were not especially challenging any longer. But, given the newfound turn of events and the boy’s apparent determination to be friends, Ataya supposed the entertainment value outweighed the time spent, and surely it couldn’t hurt to share the other’s company a bit longer. For now. So, he smiled — a slow curve at the edge of his lips — and offered the boy what he hoped to be a ‘grateful’ look, though he wasn’t especially practiced at such expressions.

“I think that hunting might be helpful, little though I am inclined to admit it,” he said aloud. “I was sent by our guardians to come ‘looking’ for this particular aquatic, poisonous seed. I think they mock me on the one hand…knowing that I cannot possibly see the seeds, and on the other…well, I shudder to think what they actually do with such things. Whatever criticisms or beatings I’d endure for failing them are likely to come anyway, since I strongly doubt I could find the ridiculous things — it would likely benefit me more, at least, to spend the time building my strength and skill…and you have already saved me once, after all.”

Rolling now so I don't forget.