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Anmarisa Pelagios

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 WHITE FLAG, {Cefin}
Anmarisa Pelagios
 Posted: Apr 16 2018, 07:51 PM
Quote

Water & Earth
Age: 17
application
tracker
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None
Lycanthropy

Posts: 30
OOC: Nith


• AND NOW IM REACHING OUT WITH EVERY NOTE I SING •

Long limbs lurched over the dunes away from the city of Attirac. Her left leg was favored as she barely pressed any weight to it and limped severely across the desert. She was practically doubled over, her gangly arms dragging the backs of her hands on the ground as her mouth fell open and her tongue lolled out. Foam and drool fizzled and fell from her jowls and her breathing labored under the setting desert sun. The city of Attirac was a distant hazy spot on the horizon, and at long last she finally collapsed in a heap on the warm golden sand. She lay as a beast for a few minutes longer, before finally giving in to exhaustion and feeling the remaining anger sweep from her body. Anmarisa shifted from monsterous beast back to herself, a seventeen year old girl with wild hair and sapphire eyes. The wound on her thigh was ugly, long and black. Blood collected around its edges from where the burnt flesh had torn from itself, but the cauterization had kept it from being a significant source of blood loss. Her face was burnt across her nose and underneath her eyes, her once round and bright cheeks now a deep crimson red with touches of black charred flesh on the edges, the worst of it already bubbling deep yellow. Her clothing was shredded, it lay collected around her neck and wrists and barely much else. She shivered and lifted herself enough just to wretch and collapse again mere inches away.

Her mind reeled at the collection of new memories, most hazy but certainly enough to terrify her. What had happened? What exactly was that thing? She wanted to blame it on Conan, say perhaps he had been able to turn her, but she knew deep down inside it had been her. She had felt her being and her mind change together, shift entirely into something she had never seen before. Other memories bubbled too, ones of her mother barely touching on the subject of similar beasts. Anmarisa had barely understood it at the time, and Alcyone had been too vague. Seeing her mothers face again, even in memory, made her heart ache. What was she doing out here? How reckless and stupid could she have been? Then, what other choice did she have? Was she meant to spend her life in the tunnels of Sirenia, trying to rebuild a city she had never seen?

A shiver of fear scurried underneath her skin. It laced through the cartilage of her bones and made her joints ache, and how lonely she had been over the most recent years squeezed her insides. She missed her mother terribly. It hurt to think about, but had Alcyone lived, Anmarisa would have been content to live in Riverrock with her. There was the very real possibility she would not have come searching for Alexander. She missed her mothers soft voice and gentle hand waking her in the morning, the smell of food cooking over the fire and the gentle swish-swish of her mothers skirts. She missed curling up in her lap and gently cuddling against her shoulder, sharing stories and laughing, or sometimes crying. She missed the way her scolded her when she misbehaved but always gave in with Anmarisas mischievous laugh and bright eyes. She missed their little house in the pretty little town, the babbling streams filled with frogs and small fish and other children. Her heart ached in her chest, a few hot tears collecting under her eyelids and slowly slipping down her cheeks. The salt of her tears stung horrendously on the burnt flesh, but her entire body ached too much with pain anyways.

Anmarisa could not collect herself to have the rational thought that someone may have followed her. Other Caldonian warriors had seen her and could have been waiting for this moment to slice her head off, and simultaneously, what little voice she did hear she willingly ignored. The exhaustion and utter ache, both inside and out, made her reeling mind reckless; she could not muster up the strength fight even if she had to. Let them throw her in the bowels of Attirac with Alexander, at least she would have final memories with him. Or slaughter her here, in the warm golden sands on distant lands and leave her body for carrion. She would be grateful to escape the pain she felt physically and emotionally. She would be glad to leave the turmoil of this world for the next; Anmarisa thought she had been ready for it, but her few friends in Aver had been right.

The cooling air of night was wafting in over the desert, sending chills over her body. She welcomed the cold and thought of home. Anmarisa imagined Sirenia with its sparkling buildings of ice and stone carved with runes as ancient as the Gods themselves. She imagined the market filled with beautiful people bustling to and fro with their goods and exchanging laughs and small talk. The children would play between them, weaving and bobbing in a ceaseless game of tag or hide and go seek. The seaports and Avers great fleet out in the ocean, the cry of gulls overhead as the warriors came home with wonderful news and an abundance of goods. It was this world that she lived in, ignoring the setting sun of Caldo and its biting sands, or Conan Alinaris inflictions on her body.

• AND I HOPE IT GETS TO YOU ON SOME PACIFIC WIND •
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Cefin Alinari
 Posted: Apr 16 2018, 10:45 PM
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Lightning & Fire
Age: 20
application
tracker
Group Icon
Spy
Speaks to Animals

Posts: 70
OOC: Olly


• it's like wishing for rain as i stand in the desert •

At some point, Cefin had shifted into his wolf form. Rather than strike out against the miles of sandy dunes on foot, chasing after the small remnant pits left behind by enormous lycanthrope paws, he’d slipped into his ebony fur and lanky limbs to lope across the desert instead. He had lost sight of her a while ago, but he had wanted it that way – in the state that Anmarisa was in, he was fairly certain he would not want her to be aware of his presence. Conan had been scathed badly enough by the encounter, and he was a warrior trained to fight. Cefin could not help but imagine a scenario in which his carelessness brought himself to her too soon: most likely, her grabbing him by the neck into her jaws and ragdolling him around until his spine snapped in a hundred places, and he was left little more than a crumpled abstract shape of what once was a human being.

The smell of singed fur and burnt flesh was enough to trail after her, and as the sun lowered itself across the Caldonian horizon, the darker shades cast across the desert dunes masked him and his black fur. His ears swerved, listening intently. Not only for her, but for potential units of guards and scouts as well. Cefin had ensured that Conan would not send any of Attirac’s forces out to harm her, but out here no such promise could be made against independent parties. It seemed, at least, that in her wounded panic, Anmarisa had ventured out into the deep bowels of the desert where few ever bothered to travel. Nothing but more desert lay around them for miles and miles, no roads or merchant paths snaked their way through here. It was a death trap, truly, for anyone who wandered through without an idea of where they were going.

Eventually, as the sky grew dimmer yet, the scent of Anmarisa’s wild lycan form simultaneously grew nearer and more distant. The obsidian wolf slowed his own pace down to a tentative trot, careful not to crest any hills prematurely and find an ambush awaiting him. The smell of sick wafted in soon thereafter, and the wolf’s ears flattened in concern. Slowing further to a walk, he ventured around the curve of a sandy hill and saw her collapsed there in the expanding darkness, disheveled and burnt and exhausted.

Not wanting to startle her further, Cefin immediately shifted back to the form she would recognize, and he edged closer cautiously. “Anmarisa?” he spoke quietly, worriedly, and came nearer yet. With less refined human eyes, it took reducing their distance several more feet to realize how shredded her clothing was and how pathetic she really looked there curled up on the sand. The streak of tears was still evident on her burnt cheeks, and the young Alinari man could not help but feel a dagger twist in his kind heart. He had done this. Not on purpose, of course, but it had been his suggestion that drove her here. Had been him who had given her Conan’s name. Guilt tormented him, but it was not guilt that made him stay.

Gently, slowly, he crouched down in front of her. He did not reach out yet, did not want to scare her further, but he rested his hands on the sand and let just the tip of one pinky finger graze against her own hand. “How bad is it?” he asked, knowing full well that ‘Are you okay?’ would be an idiotic way to start the conversation. He leaned just a hair closer, feeling an apology reach as far as the edge of his lips, but he halted it for now. This moment was not about him. She needed his help, and this time he wasn’t going to fail.

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Anmarisa Pelagios
 Posted: Apr 17 2018, 06:42 PM
Quote

Water & Earth
Age: 17
application
tracker
Group Icon
None
Lycanthropy

Posts: 30
OOC: Nith


• AND NOW IM REACHING OUT WITH EVERY NOTE I SING •

The fantasy world she built in her minds eye was easy to slip into and whisked her into sleep. Her breathing steadied and her muscles twitched softly with their remaining vigor from battle. Her mind was in Riverrock again, resurfacing from the stream where she play with the other children roughly her age. The cool water felt refreshing as it dripped from her hair and dribbled down her body. She could feel the rocks underneath her feet, worn round and soft from years of water coursing over them. The sand on the shores was pale and soft, too, and she fell onto it giggling and scrambling away. From the distance, she could hear her mother call her home for lunch, but as her little feet pitter-pattered up the cobblestone pathways, the town changed. Smoke rose on the horizon as flames beat at her back. Fear ran along her spine as she dashed up the path to where she knew home to be; but with every footstep, the scenery changed. The path twisted and wound, replaying the same houses over and over again as she cried, "Mama!". She could hear her mothers voice calling her, but could not close the distance between them and find her.

"Anmarisa?"

She did not gasp or make any sudden movements. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, lifting gently to see who had called her from her dream. She barely heard his question and took a few moments to place that voice to a name. Cefin, the boy in her mothers house whom she had pelted with snowballs. The Caldonian -- was she lucky it was him who had found her? Anmarisa responded to his light touch, gently lifting the tips of her fingers to find his hand and stay there. She attempted to open her mouth and felt the pain sear through her; the insides of her lips, tongue, gums and the roof had been severely burnt. The back of her throat had felt Conans heat, as well, and stung fiercely despite no visible wound. "Cefin," she tried to say his name, but it came out a slur, a butchered mess of language instead of the once airy voice.

In one deep breath, she willed her courage back. Using her other arm, she propped herself up on her elbow, and more affirmatively placed her hand in his. She brought her good leg underneath her and forced her body to sit even as her head spun. Her wooziness faded in moments, and she inhaled and exhaled slowly, willing her mind not to focus on the pain that was more intense than she had remembered. "Bad," was all gave in response with a soft shake to her head. Her eyes took in her nakedness for the first time, but in her best interest, did not feel ashamed as most Averians would have. Alone here in the desert, scorched and sliced, confused and in need of a healer, she did not have time to hide herself from Cefin. She was, after all, only human.

When her sapphire eyes looked back to him, tears had welled again and threatened to spill over the surface. Memories of the fight were slowly filtering in, and she wiped at her eyes as she tried to speak again, "He's going to kill him." All of this gone to ruin. Her entire afternoon, months of travelling and prodding around, years of her fantasies of finally finding Alexander and bringing him back home where he belonged -- wasted. Because she was the fool who had rushed in too brashly, perhaps even trying to prove herself to her own kin. Anmarisa wiped more vigorously at her eyes and hissed as they slid down her cheeks anyways, sending little ripples of additional pain through her face. "I ruined it. I killed him." The only remaining parent she had, the only link to her lineage and to ultimate acceptance in to Aver. The one person she truly believed could and would help her rebuild the cities, and she had signed his death warrant when she had dared Conan in Attirac and so carelessly gave his name and her objective out. She didn't understand what had come over her, where her logic had been and at what point she had lost herself in her anger, but it didn't matter; what was done was done, and she could not change the path she had made.

• AND I HOPE IT GETS TO YOU ON SOME PACIFIC WIND •
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Cefin Alinari
 Posted: Apr 17 2018, 10:21 PM
Quote

Lightning & Fire
Age: 20
application
tracker
Group Icon
Spy
Speaks to Animals

Posts: 70
OOC: Olly


• it's like wishing for rain as i stand in the desert •

When Anmarisa answered, it was not his name she called, but her mother’s. Even in her sleep, her voice was thick with the swelling of her tongue and the burns in her mouth – Cefin had seen the pyre of flames and had come running from his mother’s home, but by the time he’d reached the small courtyard where she and Conan had been arguing, she had become a werewolf and his brother had decided fire would be a better defense than his precious greatsword. In truth, it probably was for the better. Burns were painful, but they would heal with enough time. Growing back lost limbs would be another story entirely.

At the moment, however, Cefin could not put much thought into silver linings. The Averian girl did not startle when she slowly came to and forced herself into a sit, and then the recognition came. Her voice was hoarse and a slurred mess compared to its previous musical brevity back in Riverrock, and Conan’s fire alongside the general trauma of suddenly and forcefully becoming a lycan left her looking a little more than rough around the edges. Even still, the gold of his two-toned irises softened, and he dared to squeeze his fingers around her hand if only a little, wanting to reassure her that at the very least she was not alone. He did not know her well enough to understand the whole of her story or what demons she had carried here to Caldo with her beyond the apparent monstrosity in her blood, but he felt he knew her enough to believe she hadn’t deserved this.

When her eyes left his to look over the shredded mess of her clothes, the young Alinari’s response was immediate. Thoughtlessly, the next course of action utterly obvious to him, he pulled his roomy tawny colored tunic over his head and over her shoulders without explicitly asking for her permission. The bite of the desert cold stung a bit at his bare, sun-tanned flesh, goosepimples stretching across the taught sinew of his forearms, but he had earned that much discomfort at the very least for sending her into the belly of the beast the way that he had.

And that was when the guilt really came. Tears had welled back into her blue eyes, finding their path down the streaks left on her cheeks before, and Cefin’s heart ached to see her hurt like this despite barely knowing her. His empathy had always been his greatest weakness; Conan often warned him that it would be his downfall. Well, gods be damned if it that was his fate. Anmarisa might be the enemy, but she had a family too. They had not chosen this life or the hate their parents had forcibly placed upon their shoulders. Why should they have to treat each other like animals just because the haggard and the jaded told them so?

Cefin’s jaw set, briefly, as he silently came to a decision. While he’d been following her, he wondered just how much information he should or would share, but faced with her tears and her anger and her defeat, he could not stop himself even if it meant she’d find the energy to turn lycan again and slay him where he sat. “No.” he answered quietly at first, with a shake of his head, and scooted himself a little closer to her. His fingers tightened just a little more around hers, and he implored those teary eyes with his own earnest ones. “Conan is not usually a liar… but…” He let out a sigh, hesitated a moment, and then forced himself to continue on. “He is my brother. I thought… that at worst he would give you no answer, but not a false one.”

Cefin released her hand then after that confession, revealing his identity and already accepting whatever backlash he was to receive for being an Alinari. He had learned, in life, that his name carried enormous weight. In Caldo, it usually benefitted him, but everywhere else, by name he was a marked and damned man, better dead than alive, not to be trusted. “I went to our mother to ask her. She has no reason to be dishonest with me, and she had no idea of your arrival.” His eyes had drifted down to the sand at some point, but they lifted then, tentatively, shyly, back to hers. “Caldo does not have Alexander Pelagios. I promise that, for whatever my word is worth.”

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Anmarisa Pelagios
 Posted: May 6 2018, 09:43 PM
Quote

Water & Earth
Age: 17
application
tracker
Group Icon
None
Lycanthropy

Posts: 30
OOC: Nith


• AND NOW IM REACHING OUT WITH EVERY NOTE I SING •

The roughspin tunic came as a surprise to her as she felt his hands brush alongside her shoulders as he slid it over her, careful to keep from disrupting the wounds on her face anymore than her tears already had. She welcomed the fabric, shivering as she felt the warmth from his body in the fabric wrap around her and ward away the cooling air. Anmarisa slipped her arms into the sleeves and wrapped them around her waist, her eyes looking for his to give a silent but ever grateful thanks. Instead, she found his jaw set, and gently used the bottom hem of the shirt to dab away what tears remained on her cheeks.

His No gave her pause, and she looked to him abruptly.She found her hand responding to his, wrapping tightly as well as he scooted forward, now curious in what the young Caldonian had to say. Even more so, she was content to listen if only so she didn’t have to hear the guttural gurgle of her own voice as she choked on her tongue and swollen lips. She let his eyes meet hers, leaned in even as if to say “go on”, and held her breath when he paused. She could feel her heart speed up and her guts twist as they always did, and finally the dreaded realization came.

Anmarisa leaned back, pulling her hand from his as he loosened their grip. She coiled it against her body, drawing her good leg close as well as she watched him warily now. She had come to trust him more so than any other Caldonian she had met, even if they had only encountered each other once before. Something in her heart had told her he was good, their cultural differences and age long battle could coexist with their hesitant budding friendship. However, now, she felt her heart freeze in her chest and confess it had been wrong. ”You’re one of them,” is what she tried to say, but instead came out as a soft, You’re….them?” with an edge of fear and anger mixing in where it could. He had told her to come out here, given her Conan’s name and where about she could find him as well— had he intentionally sent her to her death? Did she narrowly miss the ill tidings of a stranger she’d stumbled into in her mothers house?. She wanted to slap him and throw off his tunic, storm across the desert and scream that she didn’t need his help. Better yet, had she the strength, another albeit less severe, fight could have taken place. She had meant those threats to Conan, and they extended to Cefin as well, but he stopped her when he confessed Caldo did not have Alexander.

She waited. The silence between them hung on and on for decades as her eyes fell to him, judging whether or not he was truly the enemy and if his word meant anything. He bore Karins name, but so far Anmarisa had yet to see any malice. Her heart spoke again to trust, but her mind threatened that she was a traitor to her own father and all of Aver if she did. What if he used her? She had a duty to protect and care for what was left of Aver and her kin. She also, however, was not in much of a position to decide who her friends and enemies were. He had not come out here brandishing a sword and army. There were a million volatile ways he could have tortured and killed her, still could if he suddenly decided. She trusted now that he had pieced together who she was as well, and he had still come out here looking for her. He had given her valuable information, and unless she suddenly gained the ability to navigate out of the desert, would be her ultimate savior in getting back to her small camp and finding a healer to help with her burns. Her features softened and she reached for his hand again, tentatively holding his fingertips in her own. She could not trust him, not entirely, but for tonight at least she was willing to forgive him.

”It’s okay,” she could feel her heart silence what logic told her and found herself leaning in again to catch his gaze. ”Alexander is my father.” she made her own confession to him if only to confirm the conclusions she knew he must have already made. ”Don’t…” she had placed herself in his trust now, prayed that he would not have reason to betray her, ”Tell. Don’t tell,” she willed the words more forcibly from herself and squeezed his hand. She was used to most souls in Eudocia not believing her; Alexander never would have had a child out of wedlock, with a rogue woman from Ombra, and during a war. But he had, Anmarisa was living proof, even if hardly anyone believed her. Revealing their true identities was somewhat freeing, despite the burdens that came with their names, even more so specifically to each other. Anmarisa shifted on the sands and edged closer to him, gently tucking her shoulder against his bare chest and letting her head fall on the far edge of his shoulder with a heavy sigh. There was comfort in the contact, she found, and her eyes slid closed for a few moments as she let the gravity of their situation finally fall into the depths of her mind, tucked away neatly to ponder over another day. ”Camp,” she murmured gently, finally opening her eyes and lifting her head again to see Cefins face, ”My camp,” she cleared her throat and made a sour face — perhaps the fire had travelled down further than she originally thought, ”Back towards Attirac.” She felt her guts churn like a stormy ocean and her face paled as she dreaded the thoughts of going back to the little camp she had made. There were no fires there, but her bags had been buried under some debris of what once was a building. It was a small, rusty cave she had been able to squeeze herself into and hide out in for a few days, but it would be a journey to get back and she did not know if she could will her wounded leg into walking anymore than it already had.

• AND I HOPE IT GETS TO YOU ON SOME PACIFIC WIND •
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Cefin Alinari
 Posted: May 16 2018, 01:55 PM
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Lightning & Fire
Age: 20
application
tracker
Group Icon
Spy
Speaks to Animals

Posts: 70
OOC: Olly


• it's like wishing for rain as i stand in the desert •

The distrust that edged its way into her voice at the realization of his identify came as no surprise to Cefin, who could only react with a sad sort of resignation at the recoil. He had been careful to hide his Alinari name for a reason, having already lost connections and relationships he had forged throughout his young adult life, but in this situation, he was particularly saddened by his assumption that whatever friendship they had sewn had already been promptly scorched and drowned. There was something about Anmarisa that he inherently liked despite Eudocia’s societal stamping of “enemy” across her forehead. She was as strong-willed and fiery as the best of them from Caldo, but she did not carry their sulfur and brimstone. Their brief encounter had been refreshing and light – a small promise that the way things were now did not mean they always must be, but in the moment that he was labeled them, the young man saw that light begin to flicker out.

Unexpectedly, however, though it fluttered it did not snuff out entirely. There was hesitation there, lingering in the tense silence between them, when Anmarisa seemed to yield to his candor and gentility. She revealed what he had already suspected: that Alexander Pelagios was not just an important figurehead of Aver that needed finding, but was also her father. He did not carry the judgments or suspicions of their parents’ generation to doubt her. “I won’t. I promise.” he uttered easily and honestly, and he had quite expected the slight tiptoe towards amicability to end there.

He had not expected Anmarisa to edge forward then, and when she nestled in against his bare shoulder and rested against him, Cefin could do nothing but blink his golden eyes down at the top of her head with some surprise. One arm stretched back and braced both their weights upright, but the other gently folded itself around her, careful to avoid the burnt or apparently injured areas. He squeezed as much as he dared, a simple moment meant to comfort the both of them in this shitshow of a situation, and he let the silence carry on until she finally lifted her head and mentioned camp.

Cefin met her eyes, but his black brows made no attempt to hide their concerned furrowing. “Are you well enough to travel?” Judging by the general look of her and the fragmented way that she had to speak, Anmarisa would not be making any miles’ long trek across the desert for days, let alone the same night his brother had seared her. “Is there something you need there? I could go get it… if you tell me where it is?” Truth be told, he did not like the idea of leaving her side at all in this moment, driven by an urge to shield and protect her since he was largely responsible for her current state. If she had valuables or items that would soothe her burns, though, it might be worth the trip. He tipped his head at her, frowning, and then looked away out into the desert darkness as if already contemplating wrenching himself away.

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