deercountry | I don't wish to evade the world

Who: Illarion, Ives, and anyone else sucked into the chaos vortex
What: A yurtwarming party + memories and misadventures (in comments)
When: Whenever
Where: Wherever
Shakira: Shakira

Content Warnings: Will warn per prompt!

November had been a cruel month for all Trench, mired in corruption and sacrifice; December had opened no better with its piercing chill and Sleepers pit one against the other by an ancient and echoing folly. Darkbloods in particular had been afflicted with the compounding feeling of control slipping through their fingers, and even Illarion--whose dead heart was beyond most emotions (so he thought)--couldn't escape the sense that everything was about to go horribly, irrevocably wrong if he didn't rein it in.

So he'd vanished into Trenchwood to get control of his ~~life~~ existence and somehow ended up building a couple of yurts with Ives. Funny, how that worked out.

Forever my home (OTA-ish, with Ives, early January, Trenchwood)
With the start of the year and the advent of the Egg Moon, life (and undeath) is suddenly looking a lot more positive. Once they'd finished their house-building, Illarion noted (and Ives agreed) that there were certain forms to be upheld: They should invite other Sleepers over to visit. Invitations trickled out over Omni and Omen to people they know, informing them of a new Lamp location and offering an opportunity for food, camaraderie, and conversation away from the heated and busy confines of the Snake Den.

The square for their odd little village of two (sometimes three) is where all the action's at, for any who come looking in response to the invitation. The fire pit is the center of attention: Large enough to contain a bonfire, lined with hand-laid stone, and often host to a simmering stewpot with food enough to share. Several logs surround it at a comfortable distance from the heat, allowing ease and conversation. Ives' yurt stands nearby, just large enough to give the Giant a sheltered place to sleep, and a small covered well with attendant pail offers fresh water. The Lamp, and its Lamp Friends (decorated with ribbon for the season), are opposite the fire from the yurt and a little ways into the trees. Discreet incense burners ring the clearing in a faint pall of smoke, with scents of pine and wet moss that pleasantly smooth Trenchwood's harsher odors--and more importantly, keep the beasts away.

A path leads away from the fire, off toward the distant mirror of the Salt Lake, permanently red this month thanks to Moon Presence's... presence. Sleepers with very sharp eyes might make out the mounded shadow of another yurt in that direction.

One or both of the Giant and the shrike might be found hanging around the place if expecting guests. Ives may be tending to a fine vegetable stew, attending to various little maintenance tasks, or simply sitting at his ease by the fire. He's also acquired a pan flute at some point and is looking for any excuse to play it. Illarion's often keeping incense lit, mending gear and cleaning weapons, or when he's in the mood--and that's often, this month--holding forth in story or song to anyone around to listen.

((OOC: Let us know if you want one ~~furry~~, the other, or both on your tag in!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[That gets a low and curious noise out of Illarion, almost a sound of awe.] Very novel, yes. Nephele has, mm, half-a-thousand tongues if she has one. I am knowing five, with parts of a sixth, and still I am working through translators half the time.

To have at least this one barrier out of the way? It would be a great thing. Already, it is a great thing here, though the workings-out of the blood magic can be very curious.

[He puts the fish guts and heads into a covered bucket, nearby and handy for such things.]

There are some here who hear me in translation, precisely, no matter which tongue I use. To others, I am not translated in Shriketongue or Orcish, only Steppescommon--but the Omni, if I dictate to it, will write all down in a way comprehensible.

[It's both delightful and irritating.]

Other than your people, and the Empyreans, how many kinds are there on Myddvai?

[Ives listens attentively and nods along. So many languages... Ives can't quite imagine how that would function, let alone could. Seems a recipes for eternal strife.

Then again, places outside of Myddvai appear far more stricken with strife than even the darkest of ages Ives lived through. He will count his lucky stars when he has a moment to ruminate on such appreciation. For now, he just hums in acknowledgement, before Illarion asks a question of him.]

Many breeds of people, but all from Myddvai share the common ancestor of humans. There's very few humans left, which are not banished from our Above World. My clan sees over most of those remaining family lines. [a brief moment to stir the pot,]

Have I told you I was once human? I became this along with my twin sister... then others followed suit.

[Four different peoples and a thousand different tongues weren't even a tenth the cause of strife on Nephele. A totally universal language might just make things worse, given all the givens.]

Humans are the vanishing ones for once? [Forgive him his wonder, Ives; there's so many humans here and so many of them from worlds with only humans.

He's not necessarily pleased to hear they're a tiny minority--or the unbanished ones are a tiny minority, anyway, if he takes Ives' meaning--but it's certainly something to find a world going against the usual pattern.

He finishes laying the fish out and goes to rub his hands in snow to clean them.]

You had not mentioned this. [He can see the resemblance, of course, but hadn't drawn that line since everyone but dwarves resembled each other on Nephele. Sort of.] What brought you to this choice?

Baa... not a choice. [he briefly shakes his head, reconsidering-] Well, it was some manner, between new life and permanent death. Or so I believed at the time. We didn't understand such things, back then. We barely had shoes...

[if he still had toes he might wiggles them, but the phantom limbs had long, long left his memory. All he could remember of having feet was how miserably painful they felt, how often they were cold or hurt... things he wouldn't miss.]

The pair of us were limping away from some hunt turned to a battle. My sister was dying and I wouldn't go on without her. I dragged her away. There's a place, the Heart's Fountain, where the purest of magic pools... and we drowned our humanity there.

[A soft, sympathetic noise escapes Illarion's throat at not a choice, and the words that follow.

That's disquietingly familiar, even if his not-a-choice had been one made by an entire people rather than two siblings.

Drying his hands on a rag, he comes to join Ives by the fire, picking a log and perching on it in the way most comfortable for elven bones.]

This not-a-choice, I am too familiar with, I think. [Permanent death. Put a talon through that for a later question.] So it remade you instead of simple healing?

[Once more, he studies Ives with thoughtful golden eyes. (So nice to be able to see things; thank you, Madam Generosity, even if it's not permanent.)] Is this fountain so kindly intended to all?

Precisely that. We were transformed, given new life and new magic, to Giants. Part of that is being the only mortal breed to retain our memories, life after life, though there is a waiting period of our youth before they return.

[he puts the lid over the pot to simmer, hanging the ladle off the side. A step back and he also sits on a log, relaxing to look back at Illarion and meet his gaze for once. He taps at the roots of his hair]

... perhaps funny. This was my hair color before. It didn't fully take that away from me. [a bit of a reminder of what he'd been, once. Adelheid liked to pretend they were never human, resenting anything similar to how she'd once been.]

As for others, it was giving of it's magic. Kind, though, I would not call it. All who sought such magic were changed, but such power was neither fair nor equally granted.

Ah! Is this how you are being so very wise and steady for the age you appear? [Ives did have a stability to him that Illarion found himself appreciating, the way he would another elf's. And the Giant had mentioned other deaths.

There's many ways to accumulate the wisdom of years.

He glances up, at Ives' golden roots, when the Giant indicates them.] It is interesting, these little pieces of us such things leave behind. Though I am liking the blue, being partial to this color.

[Esfir had a touch in her feathers.]

This is so? Not all its gifts were so good as what the Giants were given? Or not all the fountain changed were so seemly and well-made?

[He's got, one might say, a personal interest.]

Yes, most people catch on that I'm a much older soul than my current body reflects. I've lived over two thousand years across various lives, as the eldest Giant...

[he runs a hand through his hair, scratching at the base of his now very large horns. He wished they would stay, that he could remain in an older version of his body from here on out... but it did not feel permanent to him. He suspected this change would be temporary, he'd go back to how he was. He can hope no younger than that. He'd be furious!]

We had our original magic taken from us, swapped with the gift of the Elves. It was once we could grow and shrink at will, both ourselves and other living matter. The Elves had the control you've seen me use, that of sleep and dream manipulation. We used our gifts to terrorize and menace one another for the whole of an Age before the Gods arrived to set us right.

I don't wish to evade the world | OTA

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