Post by The Cryophoenix on Jan 9, 2014 9:47:20 GMT -5
Anivia chuckled softly at the Archer’s words of wisdom. It was rare that she was caught in the pitfalls she so often decried in other. “No indeed, though we should always strive to be.” She was not typically so social a creature, content to spend years on her own, yet somehow this woman lost in the tundra seemed a kindred spirit.
She was a leader of her people then, the bow she held a symbol of divine right. Anivia nodded quietly, such power could hardly be ignored. “If those in power would fear the rule you speak of that much, perhaps taking command of your people isn’t so terribly a goal to pursue.”
Her focus shifted to the surroundings once more: frozen tundra as far as the eye could see. Noble though the archer’s goals may be, injured and alone she’d hardly survive the day let alone to see them through. Briefly, she wondered whether she would be forced to watch this human die slowly of the cold. “This bow of yours, of Avarosa. What do you know of its power? True ice is not so readily come across, nor the mortal who might wield it.”
Ashe nodded in agreement, but was otherwise quiet. There wasn't much to say, and if there was, the words were quickly lost to her. Her legs had returned to being as numb as ever, and the Archer feared that she would lose them if nothing was done. Still, she managed a soft smile either way at what seemed like a sound of amusement. "Perhaps. But I would not want to lead a tribe who hated me for... taking over, so to speak." She twisted a free hand into what was left of her clothing, frowning. "It would be foolish to put your faith in just a weapon."
She had been looking down at her hands, pale white and cold when Anivia spoke once more. Ashe glanced up, then shrugged. Though she should have felt foolish for not knowing what she possessed, there was no helping it. All the scrolls and stories had been kept from her. "I don't know," she said, "Only that I can fashion arrows out of ice and that anyone who tries to touch it or take it from me... well, they won't be able to so easily." She remembered when one of the Elders had attempted to take a closer look and had paid the price - an angry red burn had spread on her palm and after, no one dared to touch the bow.
"But I confess that my knowledge of such things do not reach far at all. I plan to change that." Ashe had the decency to look abashed at her statement at least, but her eyes were on the bow now which still glimmered as bright as ever. She had asked about it many times, but never had the answers been satisfactory. Perhaps this Cryophoenix could tell her more. With this in mind, the Archer seemed to feel a little more hopeful.
Post by The Cryophoenix on Jan 13, 2014 6:57:04 GMT -5
Anivia quirked her head in confusion. Could it be that she was untrained? Unaware of the power she might wield? Even then, the affinity to ice required to survive contact with such a weapon unprepared was unheard of amongst the humans. The unhealthy whiteness of the archer’s skin still clawed at her attention. The woman’s calmness in the face of such danger was unsettling, but the more she talked, the more grounded she seemed to become. This human felt closer to kin than any she had encountered before, and Anivia wasn’t ready to give her up yet.
“I have more than a little knowledge of the subject, but now may not be the best time for a lesson. You sit, hardly able to move, in the midst of a frozen wasteland, nothing alive for miles around in the wake of that evil storm. I ask whether you have some command over the ice to sustain yourself in the grip of cold.” She raised her eyes toward the clearing skies, a sure sign of a frigid night to come, “do you know where you could go for shelter?”
Ashe tilted her head quizzically, not quite hearing the words Anivia was saying until she remembered the injuries sustained. She looked down, forcing herself to see what was wrong. Again, the only blood that was hers was miniscule - dried drops here and there, and the red-brown splotch on her front she knew was not hers. Ashe quickly ignored it before she could remember again. She held her hand out in front of her face, and she swore she could see her veins through the ghostly skin and falling over her shoulders was hair as white as the snow. Lifting a strand to stare at it, Ashe wondered.
With a strength that surprised even the Archer, she hauled herself up with the help of the ice behind her. The sensation was nothing short of strange. The frost bit at her fingers, but it was only a little more than just uncomfortable. The cold never bothered Ashe, but for some reason, this unnerved her. With a grunt of effort, she managed to slide herself onto the makeshift seat. Her legs ached, but that was good. It meant she could feel them.
It was only then did Ashe realize that she had not yet given Anivia an answer or response of any kind. She looked up, still shorter than the bird by a good bit. "Nothing commands the ice here," she answered. Her parents had always said as such. Some could make their own and control it, but Freljord's was wild and refused to be tamed. "Nothing born here anyway." Ashe added, then bit her lip softly as if it were the wrong thing to say. She pressed on, "I do know where, but not from here. Admittedly, I was not... focused on such things."
Post by The Cryophoenix on Jan 15, 2014 6:32:07 GMT -5
Anivia watched intently as the archer seemed to become aware of her condition for the first time. Surely to find oneself trapped and alone must be among the most harrowing of mortal experiences. She did not envy this woman her position in the least as she clawed her way to a sitting position.
Anivia couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the irony. The wielder of a true ice weapon claiming that there were none who commanded the ice. She was either lying, or entirely unaware of the power she clutched to her body, and the resolve in her voice betrayed the latter case. Yet that meant her very resilience was latent: not only beyond her control, but her comprehension as well. Alone, she may be doomed, but perhaps… perhaps there was another way. Slowly, Anivia unfolded her right wing, crystalline feathers glistening softly in the light of the Freljordian sun. “Touch my wing carefully, young one. Tell me what you feel.”
The archer pursed her lips in discomfort as Anivia seemed to find humor in what she had said. The sound was not unkind, but Ashe could not help but feel at least a little self-conscious when an unknown creature with a vast amount of power laughed at you. She did manage a smile in response, albeit it was more of a lip twitch if anything. "It's true," her protest was barely a whisper beneath the swirling storm, and she did not know if Anivia heard her. It was probably for the best if she hadn't.
When the Cryophoenix before her lifted a large wing, she found herself leaning back far too quickly. Ashe's fingers scrabbled against the smooth ice, finding purchase as her nails hooked into a ridge to stop herself from falling. She stared; each and every feather seemed to be encased in its own special spiral of ice, almost translucent by the way they glittered and gleamed. At the same time, it was like looking into an opaque window. She could see shapes moving, but they were not quite there; perhaps mere reflections of the sun, but to the archer, it was magnificent.
Then Anivia's soft voice approached her once more and she froze. Ashe didn't know if she could. It was beauty she had never seen before, glistening with a certain purity and it reminded her of something she could not quite recall. She was almost inclined to decline, but immediately wondered if it would be offensive. Ashe knew that this was not something offered so readily, and so with a hesitant breath, she reached out and placed a fingertip gently onto one of the feathers.
Before she could mutter an apology, her eyes widened in surprise. There was pain at the very base of the finger in contact with the Cryophoenix's wing, but it was muffled. Like being stroked by needles through a thick cloth; it was miniscule but it was there. Yet despite it all, there was a warmth spreading through her blood and without pausing to think, Ashe stood on trembling legs and placed her entire hand on the icy avian's wing. The sensation was stronger now and all Ashe could think of was the tundra and the warmth.
Ashe brought her hand away, clasping her hand to her chest. Her breath was calm, but her voice was raw as she looked into Anivia's eyes. "It feels like home." Then, she smiled, a hairpin curve and filled with wonder. "Of Freljord and all its wonders."
Post by The Cryophoenix on Jan 26, 2014 6:57:22 GMT -5
A hint of mirth remained in the air despite the Archer’s apparent indignation. She could have no way of knowing the being to which she spoke, and only hints at the power she clutched in her hand may have been revealed to her. Anivia prepared herself for the stinging touch of a warm-blooded hand upon her wing. While she often captured prey with her talons or worried it with her beak, she had sustained naught but blows to her sensitive wings under the service of the institute, and such memories rarely came pleasantly.
The tenderness with which the archer approached was exquisite as the fingertip brushed the edge of a feather, so slight that it might be nothing more but a shift of the wind. Yet where Anivia had expected pain or recoil, she instead felt the warmth fade to coolness as the woman began to revitalize before her eyes. The woman’s full palm came to rest against her wing and Anivia shivered against the unfamiliarity of the sensation of a caress in comfort.
She rose from the ice carefully. Finally seeing eye-to-eye with the archer, she could feel the determination the blazed behind the archer’s eyes. She spoke in hushed tones that whispered queerly across the ice, “No, not the Freljord, child. It is a land you could never know. But somewhere much like it this home of yours. Tell me, young Archer of the Frosts, by what name will you be remembered in the history of this land.”
Despite having risen on her legs with an apparent strength in her conviction, Ashe only saw the Cryophoenix rise as if in slow motion. She winced noticeably at the piercing red gaze that only shone brighter when she looked closer. Ruby gleaming and crimson maelstroms, but nothing like the storms she had encountered. They were warm and dancing with pure magic and wisdom. It made the Archer want to fall back onto her makeshift seat, but at the same time she wanted nothing more than to stand her ground and gaze into the heart of ice herself.
When Anivia responded, she only felt a sense of relief. Not because the Cryophoenix had corrected her, but because there was something about the creature that she did not understand and she preferred it that way. There were things that even the Freljord could not shape out of its coldest frost and this was one such being that spoke of the mysteries beyond this land - beyond this world, even.
Everything felt safe to her, but there was a burning she could feel, a slow kindle starting at the back of her eyes. There was a reality like no other that pushed at her thoughts, insisting that it be heard and dealt with. Memories like never before, walled only by her meeting of this mysterious creature who spoke with soft tones and hinting of an intelligence she had never known before. The Archer inhaled deeply, the smell of cold hitting her and clearing her dazed thoughts before she realized that she had been asked something.
"By what..." Her brow furrowed in quick confusion before her eyes cleared in understanding, then in embarrassment when she realized that Anivia had given her name and she had not even given hers. "... ah, my apologies. I am Ashe, of the... the Avarosans." Her lower lip trembled, barely noticeable even to her as she recalled that which she had been trying to forget. Their tribe had lost many good hunters on this raid, yet it was more than just that but friends and family too. They were all connected by blood, and by blood they were lost.
She breathed out softly, holding any outbursts in. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
Post by The Cryophoenix on Feb 1, 2014 6:29:04 GMT -5
Anivia regarded the archer with open curiosity, her eyes never once leaving those that gazed upon her. There was a power to meeting the eyes of another, no matter the form they may take. The chilled orbs shifted with the changing light, focusing and refocusing upon the her own as they danced between the gateways of perception.
Finally she spoke to name both self and clan. Yet still she hesitated. Was this Ashe still unsure whether her clan would accept her back? Still wary of her own intentions? She turned her head sideways, allowing confusion to show in a way even the humans would understand, “Thank you, Ashe. And these Avarosans, can you point me toward them? Can I help you make your journey to safety?”
Suddenly Ashe found herself wrapped in her own arms, as if attempting to warm herself but it wasn't the cold that bothered her. A violent shudder had ripped through her heart like an icy storm, not unlike the Vortex that tore away all that she held dear. She slid off the makeshift seat, her backside landing in the hardened snow with a thump but she didn't seem to notice. She drew her knees up and suddenly, she was a little girl once more. Her bow lay forgotten beside her, gleaming in its wonder but that was all it was.
All comfort was gone and all she felt was the cold spreading through her. She wondered if she was ill, only before realizing that the illness was only in her heart. It was sudden and it was painful, as if the entire weight of the day and the world had just come crashing down onto her thin, trembling shoulders with her nails clutching at her bruised skin. There was no safety, and nothing that the Cryophoenix could offer would come close. There were only frosty breaths, palaces made of stone and shards of broken glass that remained.
"I don't know," she answered honestly. "They won't want me back. I failed. They... they died and I didn't. They trusted me, they protected me and I was too weak...!" Ashe clenched her hands, her teeth gritted and her jaw tensed as she stared at the crystallized ground. "The least I could do is give them all a proper burial and I couldn't even do that." Though her words were passionate, her voice was not. She did not raise her voice or scream. Her tears had frozen and she couldn't even feel her heart beat.
Then she sighed and her arms dropped to the floor, her head resting against the seat once again and this time in strange defeat. "How can I face them like this?"
Post by The Cryophoenix on Feb 2, 2014 7:57:36 GMT -5
The question had seemed simple: where are you from, and can I save your preciously fleeting life. Anivia quirked her head as the archer’s arms came to wrap about her body, as if suddenly aware of the extreme cold. And then, just as quickly as she had recovered, the she began to collapse upon herself once again. Anivia chirped in surprise, half hoping that her companion had simply slipped upon the ice. Her rambling words soon gave way the truth: Ashe blamed herself for the death of the warriors she led.
The human spirit was strong. Anivia had seen it overcome impossible odds in battle, and rally even her in its time of dire need. But could it conquer the crushing pain of tragedy and grief without destroying itself in the process? She worried over the prone form, unsure what physical aid she might lend. “You grieve the loss of your fellows, do you not? So to should your kin mourn their passing. Would you add your own name to those lost in this tragedy?” Every mortal life was a precious thing, yet this soul seemed so pure. She prodded at the archer’s shoulder once more, desperate to keep her moving against the cold. “If you must see to their final rites, I will aid you in the task. Do not make me stand over yours as well.”
Ashe almost wanted to laugh through the void clouding her mind at the absurdity of it all. She had been strong when her mother had died, shedding her immaturity and naivete almost as instantly as the night turned. She was strong when her father had fallen ill, hardening her heart but softening her words. At first, she thought she could be even stronger. For those she called family, her friends, her precious companions with promises that they would be there for each other.
She wondered when it would all end, when the fires would die out and when she could finally just close her eyes and dream without whispers of what was to come. Ashe shut her eyes now, tendrils of blacks and reds snaking through her blackened vision. Ever since she had touched Avarosa's Bow, something had awakened within her and at first, it had been a magnificent feeling. But as the days went on, it tug on her spirit like an angry animal, famished and hungry to be fed. Every day, Ashe felt exhaustion enter her body, piling on like a funeral pyre of rocks and mountains.
Even Anivia's voice could not pull her out, but she managed to heave a sigh and respond. "You do not understand. Out here, strength is everything. Death simply means that you were not fit to survive, not fit for this life. Yet, that thing... that storm did not touch me." Ashe glanced up as something cool pressed against her numb flesh. "Why then, was I allowed to live while the rest were killed so... so strangely? Their bodies lay buried deep within the snow now, frozen in their own blood and what little remains of their flesh."
In truth, she would have liked nothing more than to haul herself through crystal ice and bone shattering frost, but Ashe knew that it was an unlikely feat. Even if she found the strength to pull their bodies from the ruins of the storm, she was half afraid that the Vortex would return and this time, it would not be so kind. But the thought revolted her and her nails dug pits into her skin, "To be shown mercy by these lands... how weak of me." She muttered, more to herself if anything.
Yet, the Cryophoenix's words held some truth. There were always sacrifices, and though Ashe did not realize she had condemned herself to die, she knew it now. It was not a sacrifice, but it was a life she was given. A life she would have to bear, with the souls of others clinging to her like the fire that would never fade. She would remember, and she would learn. Her life was not to be lived for herself, but for others.
With that thought in mind, Ashe staggered up, again using the small pillar of ice to help hoist herself. Her hand had shifted through the snow, gripping her bow and hearing the soft song of the lost course through her veins. The Archer was standing now, her knees shaking slightly but her expression was set with her lips slightly parted, panting gently from even a little exertion. "I will return to my tribe," she said, but there was something different now. She held herself up despite the world weighing her down and there was an echo within her that spoke of nothing but responsibility.
"I will not deny that your assistance will be helpful," Ashe had always been a dreamer, her mind was as easily turned as the Winters of Freljord but something closed itself off that day. Perhaps it had always been shut, the slivers of snow snaking through her and into her heart, sealing the doors so that nothing could hurt her. There was still grief, the loss always present, but she could not let it show. But it was life, and it was a life she needed to preserve. She looked to the Cryophoenix, a small smile gracing her face.
"Despite it all, I would have perished if not for your presence." She dipped her head down, as far as she could go without falling over. "Thank you."
Post by The Cryophoenix on Feb 3, 2014 0:15:15 GMT -5
Anivia listened to the archer’s words in an attentive silence. There was no doubt the woman’s words rang true: only the strongest could survive in the cold of the Freljord. Yet there was some strangeness still that lingered in her words. It was the storm itself that had chosen to spare her. She thought back to her own journey into its depths, the sinister air of death and destruction had tugged at even her own mind. Somehow, the will of the blizzard that deemed that she might live on where the others were doomed to death. There was no weakness in living.
As she spoke once more, the softness of her voice remained, but the bite of the cold echoed on its edge, “Raise your eyes, Ashe of the Avarosans. Look upon me and remember what I am. There are none who know better the strength one needs to survive amongst the ice. Not even I can can explain the storm you weathered. The fact remains that you survived. Be it fate or fortune, your survival can never make you weak.”
Rarely was nature predictable. Anivia owed her own existence to the mysteries of the arcane and the world. For eons, Anivia had watched over her world in her mastery of the ice not because she struggled to earn it, but rather because it was the nature of her being. It was strange to her, the notion that one’s fortune might be weakness.
Something within the Archer seemed to snap as she made up her mind, the pain and torment vanishing behind a smile. Anivia’s eyes narrowed at the shift for the third time in such a short period. It might be that the woman’s psyche was broken under the strain of her loss. Had she not suffered enough already? There was little the Cryophoenix could do but assure she could be returned to her people and healed of body, if not mind.
With wary eyes she appraised her companion’s condition once more. Not only was her psyche in question, but her body seemed no condition to travel. “I have not saved you yet, young one. I flew long and hard without seeing signs of settlement in this land, and you seem hardly able to stand. You felt the cold of my body without crying out against it… How long do you think you might endure such a chill?”
"No," Ashe said vehemently, her eyes lighting up with what almost looked like conviction of some kind. "You saved me. I was ready to give up, to make this thick blanket of snow my eternal resting place but you... you saved me." She bowed again, awkward from stiffness but not lacking in sincerity. "I will live, even if it kills me." Here she offered a wry smile, though she suspected the Cryophoenix did not share her sense of humor. Nevertheless, what was said was said and Ashe did not feel up to correcting herself. "What I meant was... I will live and I will atone."
She clutched her bow, the cool surface seeping into her skin and gripping at her bones but she remained that way for a moment. Her fingers ran up the solid curve of ice, contemplating Anivia's words. If she was really implying what Ashe thought she was, then the Archer doubted she could hold on for very long. Especially if what the Cryophoenix said was true, they had much distance to cover and not enough time. Yet she saw no reason to shake her head and decline - in fact, she knew it would not be in her best interest to do so.
"I can endure it for as long as I must." She replied solemnly, her gaze reaching for the ruby reds encased in ice before her attention drifted towards her weapon once more. Ashe didn't know much about Avarosa, despite the woman being so important to their tribe. All she knew was that her ancestor had possibly gone through more than she ever would in this lifetime, and that she was a great woman and leader. Normally that would have been enough for Ashe to follow without question, but it felt as if Avarosa herself had given her some magnificent task to complete and all she could ask was why me?
But that was something Avarosa could not answer for her. Ashe needed to figure it out for herself, even if may take her years, or years after those years. She knew that she was determined to seek out the answers to her questions. She had always been like that. Knowledge was the kind of power Ashe could understand and accept. But those were thoughts for another time, for another kind of power was patiently waiting for her. So she shrugged and brought herself back to the moment with a small smile. "What are you suggesting?"
Post by The Cryophoenix on Feb 7, 2014 7:41:04 GMT -5
Anivia chuckled lightly at the joke, “Without the will to survive, no hardship could be overcome, certainly it is true. Yet survival is no laughing matter.” There were many ways to endure the trials of the cold, but the will alone was no substitute for real strength. The archer may not have been battered in the storm, but her spirit had nearly bled dry, and her body shook with the exertion of simply standing. Could she truly make another journey?
She stood suddenly, a simple step to the side allowing the rushing headwinds of the Gelid Vortex fall full upon the archer. “I could search out your people to guide your journey to them, but you would have to maintain yourself here until then. Or I might keep you safe as we wander on ground without aim.” She shook her head, it was just as likely that the first settlement she found be that of foes her companion fought rather than her people. Worse, the nomads of the Freljord traveled daily. The chance they would happen upon a tribe was minimal.
As long as she must. The archer was small, no heavier than the creature whose heat she borrowed. It wasn’t a question of whether she could be lifted to gain her bearings, but rather if she could endure the process. “From the air you might find your people with haste, if you could endure the journey, but I’m afraid I cannot be the one to hold on to you for reasons of… comfort.” She raised a gleaming talon from the ice, offering it for examination.
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