(OOC: This is a personal recount of Vier's adventures while she was absent. OOC critique is welcome, so long as it's paraphrased thusly ::OOC:: IC comments are very much welcomed, as are IC queries. With many regards - V.)
The moon Luclin was high in the sky, and the soft breath of the wind brought the scent of pine to a peaceful Drakkin's nose. With the scent came the rustle of lofty leaves, held on high by proud branches and strong trunks.
Viertania closed her eyes and let the sounds wash over her. To her Drakkin ears it sounded as if the trees were speaking, whispering ancient tales of peace and air and sky to one another while the upmost branches swayed and entangled in short embraces.
Yes, the almost-monk was home.
Turning her empty palms to the breeze she tilted her head back, and slowly opened her eyes. As the film of her vision grew so did the stars - winking their secrets down upon Norrath and upon the dark haired Drakkin who stood alone upon the clifftop. Her aching legs begged her to sit, to relax, but the Warrioress would not submit to their pleas - least, not yet. She had a score to settle in her sore heart, and the sounds and scents that now assailed her senses were as soothing as the gracefully healing tune of a bard. Her bard.. A now deceased bard.
The unpleasant thought grounded the warrioress and for a moment she growled in pain and anger, before the pain was released in a long, vocal sigh that was almost a groan.
Yes, Viertania was home, and Eysea was dead. The bard she had sworn to protect was now buried in her homeland of Crescent Reach. Buried and surrounded with the white-star flowers she had loved.
A frown creased the Drakkin's brow as she slowly lowered her crown, turning her horned face away from the secretive stars, and looking now upon the ground.
Applegrass.
She'd planted it especially all over her property, planted it in the hope that it's sweetness would avail to them the hope that only sweetness can bring.
But the hope in her heart was but a shimmer of it's former glory. Presently, she knelt and pulled handfuls of the sweet grass out. Her fingers clenched into fists, pulping the grass in her calloused hands. The desire to throw the grass, to decimate its beauty was strong, but the Warrioress' will was stronger, and she drew a well measured breath and released it slowly. With a grace beyond her class she drew her hands close to her face, and breathed in the sweetened scent.
"Applegrass for Eysea." she whispered aloud, and rubbed her palms together. The pulp was wet and sweet and brought tears to her eyes. She cried easily now and, rubbing her grass stained hands upon her face stood once again - A warmask of grass.
Now the Warrioress did release a scream unto the hills of her now-home, and once again fell upon the ground, and wept heartily... While her mind recounted her saddened tale........
"I shan't be gone long. We bards never stay long away from those we love, and you know i do.. But I must travel. Explore. My feet have ne'er stood still for long.. Keep a vigil for me. I love you." The bards words were sweet, but her lips were sweeter as she imparted a kiss - the first kiss - upon the warrioress' hardened mouth.
"A Vigil?" The query fell short of Vier's true intentions. 'Why must Eysea leave at all', her eyes pleaded.
Eysea did not answer the question laid deep within the eyes of the warrioress, and instead gave her a small smile, and stroked her soft hand upon Vier's cheek.
"Love me, and i will know you are with me." Eysea's drums all but drowned out her whispering voice even as she backed away from their property.
"Care for the steeds, they need much love." was the last words Vier heard spoken from Eysea's lips, and even then she could not ignore the trepidition that lay within her battle-hardened heart.
"I will... sweet Bard." Viertania spoke to the ground that sparkled in Eysea's wake as she sped across the valley and dissapeared over the horizon.
Hardly a day had passed when the Warrioress did not think of her Bard, but as the days drew into weeks, and the weeks into months, Vier found it more and more difficult to ignore the gnawing sensation within her heart. Surely Eysea should have returned by now. Bards moved in haste, even by a Druids standard.
Many days would pass in which Viertania would do no more than stand in her hedge-enclosed yard and stare at the sky, seemingly asking the sun questions it could not answer.
Indeed, no answers came to her as she waited, and when the waiting could no longer be stayed, Vier packed her bags with supplies, sheathed her impeccable swords, and exited her house for - what she hoped - would be the last time. If Eysea had settled elsewhere, then Vier would settle with her, even if it meant renouncing her recently gained Sigil ~ Mistral ~ She was the ever-changing breeze. Calm in it's force, comfortable with it's strength. She would search the ends of Norrath for her beloved bard, unto the ending of her days.
But her search was cut short, as easily and finally as the cutting of a string - upon the shore of the Harbour of Dulak. It was there she found the bards body, broken in several places as it washed to and fro against the broken, disembowled ships that before time have littered it's coast. Tears were shed, and many an innocent undead were slaughtered - assuming there is any innocence left in undeath, and for many days Viertania was monkly in her meditations and necromantic in her motions. Cleanly, and moralesssly severing undead-limb from undead-limb, she smote her would-be enemies upon the accursed shore, and shouted the name of Eysea Eturnity each time her foe was slain.
But the quiet voice of her mind spoke soothingly of her cowardice and fear. Fear had brought her here, and cowardice would have her fighting her invisible, yet endless foes until the end of time.
It was a full moon, and her hands were coursing with the blood of burst blisters when she finally dropped her swords, and fell onto her knees upon the sand - wishing that none but death would take her. It was none other than death that surrounded her, and upon her submission it released her.
There the Warrioress looked up and saw only sadness. Sadness for Eysea. Sadness for the dead that *could* not rest. She wept then, her salty tears falling upon her pained hands until all her tears were spent and once again she felt that she could carry on.
And so she did - carried on the waves to the Harbour, carried on upon the deck of a swell-rocked ship, carried on, with the limp form of Eysea carried upon her shoulders, carried her would-be bride on to her home lands where, there unshod and weaponless, she buried her love within the soil of her homelands, within the place of Eysea's birth. For many days she remained, without sleep nor food, with only the cool waters of the Reach to comfort her unquenchable desire, until she felt she could once again go on.
One step in front of the other, she let the roads of Norrath lead her home - to the home she once wished to share with her bride. Echoes of songs once sung stung her ears and eyes, but she would not submit to their pain and glory.
And now, as she stood in all finality upon the hill of her home, a war mask of applegrass upon her face she knew that it was over.
The time of dreams and half baked desires had come to it's end. A new age lay before her. An age of lonliness, an age of self-love such as she'd never before let herself feel.
Viertania held in her heart a love that would not waver. A love that could not die.
For as long as we can remember, our memories will never leave us.
So, dear Sigils, Should you see a dance in her step, or a song in her eyes, do not judge her... Just remember.
The moon Luclin was high in the sky, and the soft breath of the wind brought the scent of pine to a peaceful Drakkin's nose. With the scent came the rustle of lofty leaves, held on high by proud branches and strong trunks.
Viertania closed her eyes and let the sounds wash over her. To her Drakkin ears it sounded as if the trees were speaking, whispering ancient tales of peace and air and sky to one another while the upmost branches swayed and entangled in short embraces.
Yes, the almost-monk was home.
Turning her empty palms to the breeze she tilted her head back, and slowly opened her eyes. As the film of her vision grew so did the stars - winking their secrets down upon Norrath and upon the dark haired Drakkin who stood alone upon the clifftop. Her aching legs begged her to sit, to relax, but the Warrioress would not submit to their pleas - least, not yet. She had a score to settle in her sore heart, and the sounds and scents that now assailed her senses were as soothing as the gracefully healing tune of a bard. Her bard.. A now deceased bard.
The unpleasant thought grounded the warrioress and for a moment she growled in pain and anger, before the pain was released in a long, vocal sigh that was almost a groan.
Yes, Viertania was home, and Eysea was dead. The bard she had sworn to protect was now buried in her homeland of Crescent Reach. Buried and surrounded with the white-star flowers she had loved.
A frown creased the Drakkin's brow as she slowly lowered her crown, turning her horned face away from the secretive stars, and looking now upon the ground.
Applegrass.
She'd planted it especially all over her property, planted it in the hope that it's sweetness would avail to them the hope that only sweetness can bring.
But the hope in her heart was but a shimmer of it's former glory. Presently, she knelt and pulled handfuls of the sweet grass out. Her fingers clenched into fists, pulping the grass in her calloused hands. The desire to throw the grass, to decimate its beauty was strong, but the Warrioress' will was stronger, and she drew a well measured breath and released it slowly. With a grace beyond her class she drew her hands close to her face, and breathed in the sweetened scent.
"Applegrass for Eysea." she whispered aloud, and rubbed her palms together. The pulp was wet and sweet and brought tears to her eyes. She cried easily now and, rubbing her grass stained hands upon her face stood once again - A warmask of grass.
Now the Warrioress did release a scream unto the hills of her now-home, and once again fell upon the ground, and wept heartily... While her mind recounted her saddened tale........
* * * *
"I shan't be gone long. We bards never stay long away from those we love, and you know i do.. But I must travel. Explore. My feet have ne'er stood still for long.. Keep a vigil for me. I love you." The bards words were sweet, but her lips were sweeter as she imparted a kiss - the first kiss - upon the warrioress' hardened mouth.
"A Vigil?" The query fell short of Vier's true intentions. 'Why must Eysea leave at all', her eyes pleaded.
Eysea did not answer the question laid deep within the eyes of the warrioress, and instead gave her a small smile, and stroked her soft hand upon Vier's cheek.
"Love me, and i will know you are with me." Eysea's drums all but drowned out her whispering voice even as she backed away from their property.
"Care for the steeds, they need much love." was the last words Vier heard spoken from Eysea's lips, and even then she could not ignore the trepidition that lay within her battle-hardened heart.
"I will... sweet Bard." Viertania spoke to the ground that sparkled in Eysea's wake as she sped across the valley and dissapeared over the horizon.
*** *** ***
Hardly a day had passed when the Warrioress did not think of her Bard, but as the days drew into weeks, and the weeks into months, Vier found it more and more difficult to ignore the gnawing sensation within her heart. Surely Eysea should have returned by now. Bards moved in haste, even by a Druids standard.
Many days would pass in which Viertania would do no more than stand in her hedge-enclosed yard and stare at the sky, seemingly asking the sun questions it could not answer.
Indeed, no answers came to her as she waited, and when the waiting could no longer be stayed, Vier packed her bags with supplies, sheathed her impeccable swords, and exited her house for - what she hoped - would be the last time. If Eysea had settled elsewhere, then Vier would settle with her, even if it meant renouncing her recently gained Sigil ~ Mistral ~ She was the ever-changing breeze. Calm in it's force, comfortable with it's strength. She would search the ends of Norrath for her beloved bard, unto the ending of her days.
But her search was cut short, as easily and finally as the cutting of a string - upon the shore of the Harbour of Dulak. It was there she found the bards body, broken in several places as it washed to and fro against the broken, disembowled ships that before time have littered it's coast. Tears were shed, and many an innocent undead were slaughtered - assuming there is any innocence left in undeath, and for many days Viertania was monkly in her meditations and necromantic in her motions. Cleanly, and moralesssly severing undead-limb from undead-limb, she smote her would-be enemies upon the accursed shore, and shouted the name of Eysea Eturnity each time her foe was slain.
But the quiet voice of her mind spoke soothingly of her cowardice and fear. Fear had brought her here, and cowardice would have her fighting her invisible, yet endless foes until the end of time.
*** *** ***
It was a full moon, and her hands were coursing with the blood of burst blisters when she finally dropped her swords, and fell onto her knees upon the sand - wishing that none but death would take her. It was none other than death that surrounded her, and upon her submission it released her.
There the Warrioress looked up and saw only sadness. Sadness for Eysea. Sadness for the dead that *could* not rest. She wept then, her salty tears falling upon her pained hands until all her tears were spent and once again she felt that she could carry on.
And so she did - carried on the waves to the Harbour, carried on upon the deck of a swell-rocked ship, carried on, with the limp form of Eysea carried upon her shoulders, carried her would-be bride on to her home lands where, there unshod and weaponless, she buried her love within the soil of her homelands, within the place of Eysea's birth. For many days she remained, without sleep nor food, with only the cool waters of the Reach to comfort her unquenchable desire, until she felt she could once again go on.
One step in front of the other, she let the roads of Norrath lead her home - to the home she once wished to share with her bride. Echoes of songs once sung stung her ears and eyes, but she would not submit to their pain and glory.
And now, as she stood in all finality upon the hill of her home, a war mask of applegrass upon her face she knew that it was over.
The time of dreams and half baked desires had come to it's end. A new age lay before her. An age of lonliness, an age of self-love such as she'd never before let herself feel.
Viertania held in her heart a love that would not waver. A love that could not die.
For as long as we can remember, our memories will never leave us.
So, dear Sigils, Should you see a dance in her step, or a song in her eyes, do not judge her... Just remember.
