The Oracle of Old Market
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- JewellRavenlock
- Legendary Adventurer
- The Empress
- Posts: 2473
- Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:26 pm
- Location: Little Elfhame, Old Market
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The Oracle of Old Market
The Oracle of Old Market has a gift for everyone for the holidays: all who visit her booth in the marketplace and look into her crystal ball will see their happiest memory.
((Write a short piece of your character visiting the oracle to see their happiest memory played out in front of them to join in on the fun and stretch those creative muscles. FEEL FREE TO POST HERE or link here if you post elsewhere.))
- Mai Sato
- Adventurer
- Posts: 61
- Joined: Fri Feb 16, 2018 10:02 pm
- Location: On the road, in the garage.
Re: The Oracle of Old Market
"Sou ka.." came in a softly spoken mutter from the tengu.
Coaxed closer before the words were uttered. Mai's eyes lingered on the crystal ball as she thought it over. The past was usually better kept as that, the past. You make choices and you don't look back, that's how simple life can be.
"Go ahead." The oracle's voice drawing her attention, as did her smile.
I better not.., that is what came to mind. She told herself to turn and walk away, yet in front of the booth is where she stood — and continued to do so. Walk away. Echoing. Heed those words, yet she still lingered in front of the booth; in front of the crystal ball.
Perhaps it was the will of the kami, or quite possibly her own hypocrisy. The past is better left in the past — and the complete opposite of what she had been doing now.
She watched with locked eyes on the crystal ball. What would she see? What could indeed be her happiest moment? No surprise, no doubt, she knew what it would be. It's a moment that had never left her no matter how far she had traveled to escape her past. What she saw in the crystal vision had been a scene she witnessed many, many years ago — the sight of a newborn child, her child, wrapped in a blanket, with the birds own arms holding her close.
The vision came to an end as she closed her own eyes. Words stilled in her throat but lips did soon part, but only to offer a quiet. "Thanks."
She turned and left then. The light clicks of ippon geta sounding her departure.
Coaxed closer before the words were uttered. Mai's eyes lingered on the crystal ball as she thought it over. The past was usually better kept as that, the past. You make choices and you don't look back, that's how simple life can be.
"Go ahead." The oracle's voice drawing her attention, as did her smile.
I better not.., that is what came to mind. She told herself to turn and walk away, yet in front of the booth is where she stood — and continued to do so. Walk away. Echoing. Heed those words, yet she still lingered in front of the booth; in front of the crystal ball.
Perhaps it was the will of the kami, or quite possibly her own hypocrisy. The past is better left in the past — and the complete opposite of what she had been doing now.
She watched with locked eyes on the crystal ball. What would she see? What could indeed be her happiest moment? No surprise, no doubt, she knew what it would be. It's a moment that had never left her no matter how far she had traveled to escape her past. What she saw in the crystal vision had been a scene she witnessed many, many years ago — the sight of a newborn child, her child, wrapped in a blanket, with the birds own arms holding her close.
The vision came to an end as she closed her own eyes. Words stilled in her throat but lips did soon part, but only to offer a quiet. "Thanks."
She turned and left then. The light clicks of ippon geta sounding her departure.
Life's simple, you make choices and you don't look back.
Re: The Oracle of Old Market
Mina was a little wary, but she allowed the oracle to coax her inside, taking a seat before the crystal ball.
“Do I have to think of the memory?” she asked the veiled woman.
“No, my dear. Just look within and you shall see it.”
The girl nodded and leaned forward, unsure of what she would see.
The sun was setting in the New Ardelean woods.
A little Mina, with chubby legs and dimpled elbows, sat on the large bed inside her family’s vardo. “But mama, I don’t want to go to sleep! The sun hasn’t gone to sleep yet.”
Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, brushing the brown hair of the little girl’s forehead. “Yes, my little butterfly, but tomorrow is a very big day. The sun will be out forever and ever!”
“And it’s my birthday!”
Marina Aredelean smiled, “Is it?”
“Uhuh!” The four year old nodded eagerly. “And bapa is coming to see me!”
“Dear me, I had almost forgotten. Perhaps if you go to sleep now, it will come even sooner and you can give your bapa a biiiiiiig hug.”
Little Mina seemed to think about this a moment before settling down, pulling a blanket up to her chin. “Why don’t Viollca and Damara have to sleep now, mama?”
“Because they are bigger than you, little one,” her mother replied as she arranged the curtain separating the bed from the rest of the family’s small living space. When she was done, she parted the curtain just enough to lean over and press a kiss to her youngest daughter’s forehead. “Sleep well my little butterfly.”
The little girl caught her mother’s hand before she could leave. “Please, mama. A song?”
Marina smiled indulgently and sat down on the edge of the bed again. “Okay, little one. Just one song and then you must sleep.”
The little girl happily drifted off to sleep listening to her mother’s sweet voice not knowing it was to be the last time her mother would ever sing to her. The next day, the Uremi chose Cosmina Ardelean to be their champion and a champion did not need her mother to sing her a lullaby even if she was only five.
Mina pulled back away from the oracle’s crystal ball. The woman eyed her tears sympathetically, “It is a sweet memory, dear.”
“A sad one.”
“Yes, that too.”
She nodded to the woman as she stood hastily, “I thank you for your time.”
“You are welcome and many blessings for you… champion.”
Mina looked back at her at that, pausing at the entrance to the tent. As she did so, she caught a glance of one more, fleeting vision in the crystal ball.
Luka turned from the sigil on the floor, his hazel eyes landing on Mina. He stretched out an arm to her, the sight of the blood on her face caused terror to shudder down his form. “Come here, Mina. I’ve got you.”
She smiled as she walked away, the memory of her mother no longer so heavy on her heart.
“Do I have to think of the memory?” she asked the veiled woman.
“No, my dear. Just look within and you shall see it.”
The girl nodded and leaned forward, unsure of what she would see.
The sun was setting in the New Ardelean woods.
A little Mina, with chubby legs and dimpled elbows, sat on the large bed inside her family’s vardo. “But mama, I don’t want to go to sleep! The sun hasn’t gone to sleep yet.”
Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, brushing the brown hair of the little girl’s forehead. “Yes, my little butterfly, but tomorrow is a very big day. The sun will be out forever and ever!”
“And it’s my birthday!”
Marina Aredelean smiled, “Is it?”
“Uhuh!” The four year old nodded eagerly. “And bapa is coming to see me!”
“Dear me, I had almost forgotten. Perhaps if you go to sleep now, it will come even sooner and you can give your bapa a biiiiiiig hug.”
Little Mina seemed to think about this a moment before settling down, pulling a blanket up to her chin. “Why don’t Viollca and Damara have to sleep now, mama?”
“Because they are bigger than you, little one,” her mother replied as she arranged the curtain separating the bed from the rest of the family’s small living space. When she was done, she parted the curtain just enough to lean over and press a kiss to her youngest daughter’s forehead. “Sleep well my little butterfly.”
The little girl caught her mother’s hand before she could leave. “Please, mama. A song?”
Marina smiled indulgently and sat down on the edge of the bed again. “Okay, little one. Just one song and then you must sleep.”
The little girl happily drifted off to sleep listening to her mother’s sweet voice not knowing it was to be the last time her mother would ever sing to her. The next day, the Uremi chose Cosmina Ardelean to be their champion and a champion did not need her mother to sing her a lullaby even if she was only five.
Mina pulled back away from the oracle’s crystal ball. The woman eyed her tears sympathetically, “It is a sweet memory, dear.”
“A sad one.”
“Yes, that too.”
She nodded to the woman as she stood hastily, “I thank you for your time.”
“You are welcome and many blessings for you… champion.”
Mina looked back at her at that, pausing at the entrance to the tent. As she did so, she caught a glance of one more, fleeting vision in the crystal ball.
Luka turned from the sigil on the floor, his hazel eyes landing on Mina. He stretched out an arm to her, the sight of the blood on her face caused terror to shudder down his form. “Come here, Mina. I’ve got you.”
She smiled as she walked away, the memory of her mother no longer so heavy on her heart.
- Jake
- Top Thug
- Warlord of the Boards
- Posts: 2242
- Joined: Wed Feb 11, 2004 1:25 am
- Location: Red Orc Brewery, a dueling venue, or the taverns of Badside
- Contact:
Re: The Oracle of Old Market
"C'mon, Jake, it will be fun!"
Somehow, those words always ended up as a portent of things the orc did not consider fun.
The empress was not to be denied. Planting her hands on the orc's back, she shoved him into the fortune-tellers booth.
The woman sitting in the dark, hovering over a crystal ball that emanated its own soft light beckoned them forward. She pulled her veil back with fingers covered in glittering rings and gazed intently upon the orc and the empress with dark eyes that spoke of knowledge and mystery. "Come in, come in, see what the crystal ball can show you." She curled a finger to invite them closer.
Jewell pushed and prodded and elbowed the orc down into the chair opposite the old woman. "He's here to see his happiest memory!"
The half-orc scowled. The woman almost smiled, but said nothing. "Of course you have, my darlings, of course you have. Very well then...let us see what the crystal ball shall reveal to us." Her hands slid forward and began moving around and over the crystal ball in a sinuous, almost snake-like movement. A cloudy light swirled within, following the movements of her thin hands. Light sparkled over her rings, drawing the attention of the eye to the movement and thence into the ball itself.
Jake muttered to himself under his breath about "magic..." but the fortune-teller and Jewell both ignored him.
"Deeper, deeper..." the room darkened, and the crystal ball grew brighter. The clouds swirled and twisted about, as the woman's hands danced around the ball. "Yes, yes, I can see an image forming. A happier time...yes."
And then ... the clouds fell away ... resolving into an image.
The half-orc stormed out of the booth, growling with teeth grinding. "Stupid magic. Never trust it."
Jewell chased after, half-torn between laughter and genuine concern. "Jake! Jake, wait! Wait!" Laughter was winning out.
As Jake and the faerie empress retreated into the distance, the sound of a goblin laughing hysterically could be heard echoing from the booth.
Somehow, those words always ended up as a portent of things the orc did not consider fun.
The empress was not to be denied. Planting her hands on the orc's back, she shoved him into the fortune-tellers booth.
The woman sitting in the dark, hovering over a crystal ball that emanated its own soft light beckoned them forward. She pulled her veil back with fingers covered in glittering rings and gazed intently upon the orc and the empress with dark eyes that spoke of knowledge and mystery. "Come in, come in, see what the crystal ball can show you." She curled a finger to invite them closer.
Jewell pushed and prodded and elbowed the orc down into the chair opposite the old woman. "He's here to see his happiest memory!"
The half-orc scowled. The woman almost smiled, but said nothing. "Of course you have, my darlings, of course you have. Very well then...let us see what the crystal ball shall reveal to us." Her hands slid forward and began moving around and over the crystal ball in a sinuous, almost snake-like movement. A cloudy light swirled within, following the movements of her thin hands. Light sparkled over her rings, drawing the attention of the eye to the movement and thence into the ball itself.
Jake muttered to himself under his breath about "magic..." but the fortune-teller and Jewell both ignored him.
"Deeper, deeper..." the room darkened, and the crystal ball grew brighter. The clouds swirled and twisted about, as the woman's hands danced around the ball. "Yes, yes, I can see an image forming. A happier time...yes."
And then ... the clouds fell away ... resolving into an image.
The half-orc stormed out of the booth, growling with teeth grinding. "Stupid magic. Never trust it."
Jewell chased after, half-torn between laughter and genuine concern. "Jake! Jake, wait! Wait!" Laughter was winning out.
As Jake and the faerie empress retreated into the distance, the sound of a goblin laughing hysterically could be heard echoing from the booth.
- Bailey Raptis
- Seasoned Adventurer
- The Stolen Child
- Posts: 481
- Joined: Fri Apr 17, 2015 9:25 pm
- Location: Can be found many places, but resides in Old Temple
Re: The Oracle of Old Market
December 17, 2018
Old Marketplace
I was killing time in the marketplace, pretending to shop but really just delaying the inevitable. I did not have many friends to give gifts to, and those I did, I had already found presents for. My fingers idly traced the tasseled fringes of throw blankets, cable-chained necklaces with silver snowballs for charms, and brass bangle bracelets already etched with terms of endearment. Sweetheart. Melamin. Mausebär. A gnomish tinkerer, wearing what seemed to me like unnecessary dark-lensed goggles, had his engraving pen at the ready to fully personalize his wares. I smiled at him, shaking my head when he asked if there was anything that caught my eye.
I lit a cigarette to put some space between myself and the rushing crowds, the screaming children playing tag between their parents’ legs, the couples holding mittened hands. No man is an island entire of itself, I heard Lyeorn say in my head, but what did he know? He had died with our family and left me alone, him and Fletcher and Boris.
“A gift, a gift for you, kind sir!” A gentle yet insistent voice interrupted my dark preoccupations, pulled me out of the masses. A veiled woman crooked a finger for me to duck into her booth. I gestured at the cigarette in my hand but she just waved it off with laughter like chiming bells. It was a sweet sound, and one I had not heard since Mallory and Eri’s wedding. Two days without laughter and I am already feeling moody? I must truly be turning soft. I should have gritted my teeth and just said no, walked away and inched closer to my doom.
Instead, I lingered. A crystal ball sat on a velvet cloth on a table, white and opaque. The woman tapped ringed fingers against the surface. “Look within the ball, and you shall see your happiest memory!”
“...All right?” My hands hovered over the table. “Do I need to touch it first?”
“You don’t, just look within!”
“All right…”
***
I am sitting on a Victorian chaise lounge chair with turquoise velvet upholstery and mahogany, beside Kass and Fletcher. Kass’s hand rests on my knee, her tail thumping against my side at erratic intervals. Fletcher glances over at us and smiles a benediction. The rest of the living room has been cleared of furniture, the other chairs and bookcases and lamps and night stands pushed against the walls. Fletcher looks to the opposite end of the room, at an upright piano manned by Lyeorn, and nods to him. Lyeorn nods back, grins just a little bit, and begins to play.
His long thin fingers bang on the keys, coaxing impossible sounds from wood and string. He plays a stop-start piece, and Boris, tall and muscular and clean cut, steps out from a side room. He is wearing a red-and-white striped bustier, a red skirt that comes halfway down his thighs, a pink boa, white opera gloves, and black stockings with red ribbons at the top. Despite his cloved feet, he nimbly moves through the chaster parts of his burlesque routine. He pulls off his gloves, finger by finger. He makes a giant “O” of his mouth, covers it with a bare hand, bends backwards until his body forms an upside-down “u”. The song ends, and Boris straightens, and we applaud.
Kass hops up from the chaise and pulls on my hand. I try to resist but she giggles and I can’t help but stand. She shoots a look to Lyeorn, and he starts. It’s a slow piece, a bit bluesy, and it isn’t long before it’s my turn to sing. I try not to cringe when I hear my voice, a nasal tenor, but when I look at Kass she’s smiling and I can’t help but smile too. I take the first verse alone, she takes the second, her voice a sweet alto near the bottom of that range. Then the chorus hits, and we sing together for the first time:
Lover, when will you?
I'm so afraid that no one cares
Lover, can't find you
I swear to God don't leave me here
We sing together for the rest of the song, choruses and verses, and I don’t know how or why but it works. We stay in tune, in sync, balsamic vinegar and brown sugar. There’s pressure in my heart. It’s bursting - no, it’s growing. We finish and she leans against my back while Boris and Fletcher applaud. Her arm rests against my shoulder. She smells of cinnamon and cloves. I peer over at Kass and she’s still smiling and I realize that I love her.
***
“I don’t want to die.” I whispered the words, unbidden, and felt the heat flush my face. I tried to turn away but the woman’s fingers pinched my chin and jaw. Her nails smelled of lacquer, and the cool metal of her rings calmed my cheeks.
“Then turn to your friends.” She pulled my face so that our eyes could meet. When I attempted to look down, she tightened her grip.
“I don’t want them to die. Or worse.”
“You have to decide what’s worse. Friends who die, willingly sacrificing themselves for you, or friendships that die. Remember why you came back here?”
I shut my eyes half-way, and felt her remove her hand from my face. “I would rather be dead than be without my friends.”
“There you go.” She waited until I met her gaze, and smiled at me.
“Thank you.” I stepped away from the booth and drifted back into the crowd, reaching for the phone in my pocket. I tapped in the series of numbers that unlocked my phone, and flipped through my contacts lists. Andre, Eden, Eva, Grethe, Heszhan, Mason, Max, Per, Vicki. I scrolled through the list three times, barely watching where I was walking until I ran into someone’s back.
“Sorry, sorry!” I slipped past a pregnant half-elf and her mutterings about “rude humes.” With a quiet sigh, I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
((Song lyrics from “...Said Sadly” by Smashing Pumpkins (AKA James Iha) ))
Old Marketplace
I was killing time in the marketplace, pretending to shop but really just delaying the inevitable. I did not have many friends to give gifts to, and those I did, I had already found presents for. My fingers idly traced the tasseled fringes of throw blankets, cable-chained necklaces with silver snowballs for charms, and brass bangle bracelets already etched with terms of endearment. Sweetheart. Melamin. Mausebär. A gnomish tinkerer, wearing what seemed to me like unnecessary dark-lensed goggles, had his engraving pen at the ready to fully personalize his wares. I smiled at him, shaking my head when he asked if there was anything that caught my eye.
I lit a cigarette to put some space between myself and the rushing crowds, the screaming children playing tag between their parents’ legs, the couples holding mittened hands. No man is an island entire of itself, I heard Lyeorn say in my head, but what did he know? He had died with our family and left me alone, him and Fletcher and Boris.
“A gift, a gift for you, kind sir!” A gentle yet insistent voice interrupted my dark preoccupations, pulled me out of the masses. A veiled woman crooked a finger for me to duck into her booth. I gestured at the cigarette in my hand but she just waved it off with laughter like chiming bells. It was a sweet sound, and one I had not heard since Mallory and Eri’s wedding. Two days without laughter and I am already feeling moody? I must truly be turning soft. I should have gritted my teeth and just said no, walked away and inched closer to my doom.
Instead, I lingered. A crystal ball sat on a velvet cloth on a table, white and opaque. The woman tapped ringed fingers against the surface. “Look within the ball, and you shall see your happiest memory!”
“...All right?” My hands hovered over the table. “Do I need to touch it first?”
“You don’t, just look within!”
“All right…”
***
I am sitting on a Victorian chaise lounge chair with turquoise velvet upholstery and mahogany, beside Kass and Fletcher. Kass’s hand rests on my knee, her tail thumping against my side at erratic intervals. Fletcher glances over at us and smiles a benediction. The rest of the living room has been cleared of furniture, the other chairs and bookcases and lamps and night stands pushed against the walls. Fletcher looks to the opposite end of the room, at an upright piano manned by Lyeorn, and nods to him. Lyeorn nods back, grins just a little bit, and begins to play.
His long thin fingers bang on the keys, coaxing impossible sounds from wood and string. He plays a stop-start piece, and Boris, tall and muscular and clean cut, steps out from a side room. He is wearing a red-and-white striped bustier, a red skirt that comes halfway down his thighs, a pink boa, white opera gloves, and black stockings with red ribbons at the top. Despite his cloved feet, he nimbly moves through the chaster parts of his burlesque routine. He pulls off his gloves, finger by finger. He makes a giant “O” of his mouth, covers it with a bare hand, bends backwards until his body forms an upside-down “u”. The song ends, and Boris straightens, and we applaud.
Kass hops up from the chaise and pulls on my hand. I try to resist but she giggles and I can’t help but stand. She shoots a look to Lyeorn, and he starts. It’s a slow piece, a bit bluesy, and it isn’t long before it’s my turn to sing. I try not to cringe when I hear my voice, a nasal tenor, but when I look at Kass she’s smiling and I can’t help but smile too. I take the first verse alone, she takes the second, her voice a sweet alto near the bottom of that range. Then the chorus hits, and we sing together for the first time:
Lover, when will you?
I'm so afraid that no one cares
Lover, can't find you
I swear to God don't leave me here
We sing together for the rest of the song, choruses and verses, and I don’t know how or why but it works. We stay in tune, in sync, balsamic vinegar and brown sugar. There’s pressure in my heart. It’s bursting - no, it’s growing. We finish and she leans against my back while Boris and Fletcher applaud. Her arm rests against my shoulder. She smells of cinnamon and cloves. I peer over at Kass and she’s still smiling and I realize that I love her.
***
“I don’t want to die.” I whispered the words, unbidden, and felt the heat flush my face. I tried to turn away but the woman’s fingers pinched my chin and jaw. Her nails smelled of lacquer, and the cool metal of her rings calmed my cheeks.
“Then turn to your friends.” She pulled my face so that our eyes could meet. When I attempted to look down, she tightened her grip.
“I don’t want them to die. Or worse.”
“You have to decide what’s worse. Friends who die, willingly sacrificing themselves for you, or friendships that die. Remember why you came back here?”
I shut my eyes half-way, and felt her remove her hand from my face. “I would rather be dead than be without my friends.”
“There you go.” She waited until I met her gaze, and smiled at me.
“Thank you.” I stepped away from the booth and drifted back into the crowd, reaching for the phone in my pocket. I tapped in the series of numbers that unlocked my phone, and flipped through my contacts lists. Andre, Eden, Eva, Grethe, Heszhan, Mason, Max, Per, Vicki. I scrolled through the list three times, barely watching where I was walking until I ran into someone’s back.
“Sorry, sorry!” I slipped past a pregnant half-elf and her mutterings about “rude humes.” With a quiet sigh, I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
((Song lyrics from “...Said Sadly” by Smashing Pumpkins (AKA James Iha) ))
It's the disease of the age
It's the disease that we crave
Alone at the end of the rave
We catch the last bus home
Protect me from what I want
It's the disease that we crave
Alone at the end of the rave
We catch the last bus home
Protect me from what I want
- Hana Sasaki
- Adventurer
- Posts: 74
- Joined: Sat Jul 07, 2018 8:26 pm
- Location: Kabuki Street, Dockside
Re: The Oracle of Old Market
"Take a glimpse within this crystal ball and see your happiest memory!"
Hana's expression was one of full on uncertainty. One of those `is she shitting me right now?` moments.
But, hey. It's free! She couldn't really say no to something that's free.. unless it's not really free. Hidden fees are always the worst and it's why she's on her girlfriends sister-in-law's phone plan right now, because unlimited texting isn't exactly unlimited when there's small writing saying something along the lines of: bla bla bla, data plan, bla bla bla, not the same phone carrier, etc - etc.
She'd make sure her bag is nice and secure against her first, then she'd be leaning in. What, oh what, will be see? She wondered what could be her most happiest moment. Maybe it's that time she found a bag of gold inside a barrel by the docks? No, she lost that gold after less than an hour at the casino in Old Temple.. Maybe she'll see that time she pranked Yuki at the pizza parlor. The ol' unscrewing the parmesan shaker while her friend was in the bathroom trick.
Okay you stupid crystal ball. Show me something happy!
Wait.. there's something that's coming through the smoke! Hana leans closer and squints to try and get a better look.
".. It's only here for a limited time, too.."
Hana's expression was one of full on uncertainty. One of those `is she shitting me right now?` moments.
But, hey. It's free! She couldn't really say no to something that's free.. unless it's not really free. Hidden fees are always the worst and it's why she's on her girlfriends sister-in-law's phone plan right now, because unlimited texting isn't exactly unlimited when there's small writing saying something along the lines of: bla bla bla, data plan, bla bla bla, not the same phone carrier, etc - etc.
She'd make sure her bag is nice and secure against her first, then she'd be leaning in. What, oh what, will be see? She wondered what could be her most happiest moment. Maybe it's that time she found a bag of gold inside a barrel by the docks? No, she lost that gold after less than an hour at the casino in Old Temple.. Maybe she'll see that time she pranked Yuki at the pizza parlor. The ol' unscrewing the parmesan shaker while her friend was in the bathroom trick.
Okay you stupid crystal ball. Show me something happy!
Wait.. there's something that's coming through the smoke! Hana leans closer and squints to try and get a better look.
".. It's only here for a limited time, too.."
- Gren Blockman
- Expert Adventurer
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Thu Jun 19, 2008 9:00 pm
- Location: The forest, the woods, the trees
Re: The Oracle of Old Market
Sunday, January 20, 2019
Gren walked home from the Arena that night, holding hands with Izira as they made their way through the Old Market District. He was quiet and melancholy after his failed bid for Overlord at the hand of Matt’s loyal Baron, Mallory. You should look on the bright side, he told himself, it’s an honor just to have both Diamond and ArchMage. Plus, that means whatever scheme Marty the Anarchist was plotting won’t happen since you’re not Overlord. It would have been awesome to do what only Avery Shiv Blade had done before, but apparently it wasn’t in the cards for him . . . at least not yet.
He glanced at Izira walking just as quietly beside him. She recognized his quiet contemplation and did not want to disturb him. She wore heeled boots of soft brown leather, paired with a grey sweater dress, and her brown hair blew slightly in the night wind. He snapped out of his reverie when he heard a call from one of the booths lining the marketplace.
“Come and gaze into my crystal ball! Relive your happiest memory!”
Gren blinked. The sudden thought hit him that after his loss, he needed something to cheer him up. He pointed to the booth for Izira, and she nodded, releasing his hand. Moving inside, Gren sat down and watched the milky crystal ball on the table.
“Don’t be shy, young man, gaze within and you won’t be disappointed!”
Gren gulped a little then did as he was told. The milky insides of the crystal ball swirled around and suddenly he saw a vision.
Izira stood at the door of Gren's treehouse. Her amber-brown eyes looked up at the windows that told her no one was home long before she knocked. Another day, another visit to the Rangers Headquarters and still there was no news of Gren. Perrigan had been kind, today as he had every other day, but kindness was little comfort to the well of worry that started to fill the moment Gren left for war. The knock sounded and Izira waited with no answer. The chill breeze in the air moving her hair, the hood of Gren's cloak pulled back as she stood there. She did not care if there had been regulations against her wearing the cloak, she kept it about her. Every day without knowing what happened, if Gren was safe or not, felt like a year. Worse than the long time of solitude she had endured. The pain of her heart was physical and at the silence beyond the door she hung her head, closing her eyes and trying to fight off the wave of doubt that haunted her.
Gren had wearily trudged the many miles from the far northern mountains back home. They had chased the orcs and goblins, and watched them for days to make sure they had stayed away. Spending time in the wilderness meant they were unable to communicate effectively with Headquarters, but Westerguard knew Perrigan had faith in him to get the job done. Westerguard went ahead and sent the infantry home, and left the Recon in charge of keeping watch. Runners had been sent to Headquarters to let them know of their victory and return, too late for Izira to find out. Gren was still tired and shaken by the events of the Blackhorn Tavern battle. His body cried out for sleep, but if he could manage it, he was going to go home and change, and then go to the Inn to see Izira. He could picture her amber brown eyes, her fingering the locket he gave her, standing behind the bar in the same position as when he left her. He marched into the clearing, and was surprised to find her standing at his door, his grey cloak wrapped about her. It was like she had been there waiting for him all that time.
The air clouded at her exhale. Her bent head lifting and her back straightening, she did not give in to doubt for long. If he was not here today, she would return another day. With that resolve, she turned to return to her home and saw Gren standing there. Her steps stilled and her face took on a look of wonder. Did she imagine him there? Was he real? Was he a ghost? Amber-brown eyes went back and forth, searching his face. ".. Gren?"
Gren dropped his pack and staff, pulled the hood of his spare cloak back and literally ran up to her, sweeping her up in a warm embrace, and pressed his cheek against hers. "It's me, Izira. I made back. Just like I said", he whispered in her ear. His hands moved across her back as if he was reminding himself what her curves felt like. He breathed in the scent of her hair. For the first time in days, he felt relieved.
As he embraced her, she held him tightly, only leaning back enough to look into his icy blue eyes. Her hands came up, holding the sides of his face. Her fingertips gently caressed his cheeks and beard, assuring her of his presence. "Gren! They had no word... no one knew..." Her eyes welled up, fully giving into the emotion of her fear and worry now that he was safe and there with her now. "I thought you dead... I thought I had lost you and you would never know how I felt..." Izira leaned forward, kissing Gren deeply, making up for the days missed and every moment she had longed to see him or at least have some word of his safe return. Only when her lungs demanded air did she pull her lips back. Looking into his eyes, "I could not bear the thought of losing you... I love you." And since he'd said it so many times before, she repeated her words for him, "I love you Gren Blockman." She returned her lips to his and kissed him again.
He felt his knees go weak and his body nearly collapse as a wave of emotion flowed over him. He had waited to hear those words for so long from her that he didn't know what to do with himself, other than hold her kiss, pushing her against the trunk of his treehouse. He forgot everything else but her, and moved his hands up and down her body as if he couldn't get enough of her. When they needed another pause for breath, he spoke quickly and quietly. "I love you, Izira. I love you so much."
When Gren walked out of the booth, he had a calm, serene smile on his face, a definite change in his demeanor from when he had entered. Izira tilted her head as she looked at him.
“Are you . . . feeling better now?”
Gren smiled more and laced his fingers with hers. “Yes, definitely. I was just reminded of what’s most important in life. Let’s go home.”
Izira gave Gren an odd look, but didn’t question it, since Gren seemed happier. Soon Gren chose instead to put his arm around Izira’s shoulders as they walked down the street, and she leaned her head on his shoulder as they made their way back to the Inn.
Gren walked home from the Arena that night, holding hands with Izira as they made their way through the Old Market District. He was quiet and melancholy after his failed bid for Overlord at the hand of Matt’s loyal Baron, Mallory. You should look on the bright side, he told himself, it’s an honor just to have both Diamond and ArchMage. Plus, that means whatever scheme Marty the Anarchist was plotting won’t happen since you’re not Overlord. It would have been awesome to do what only Avery Shiv Blade had done before, but apparently it wasn’t in the cards for him . . . at least not yet.
He glanced at Izira walking just as quietly beside him. She recognized his quiet contemplation and did not want to disturb him. She wore heeled boots of soft brown leather, paired with a grey sweater dress, and her brown hair blew slightly in the night wind. He snapped out of his reverie when he heard a call from one of the booths lining the marketplace.
“Come and gaze into my crystal ball! Relive your happiest memory!”
Gren blinked. The sudden thought hit him that after his loss, he needed something to cheer him up. He pointed to the booth for Izira, and she nodded, releasing his hand. Moving inside, Gren sat down and watched the milky crystal ball on the table.
“Don’t be shy, young man, gaze within and you won’t be disappointed!”
Gren gulped a little then did as he was told. The milky insides of the crystal ball swirled around and suddenly he saw a vision.
Izira stood at the door of Gren's treehouse. Her amber-brown eyes looked up at the windows that told her no one was home long before she knocked. Another day, another visit to the Rangers Headquarters and still there was no news of Gren. Perrigan had been kind, today as he had every other day, but kindness was little comfort to the well of worry that started to fill the moment Gren left for war. The knock sounded and Izira waited with no answer. The chill breeze in the air moving her hair, the hood of Gren's cloak pulled back as she stood there. She did not care if there had been regulations against her wearing the cloak, she kept it about her. Every day without knowing what happened, if Gren was safe or not, felt like a year. Worse than the long time of solitude she had endured. The pain of her heart was physical and at the silence beyond the door she hung her head, closing her eyes and trying to fight off the wave of doubt that haunted her.
Gren had wearily trudged the many miles from the far northern mountains back home. They had chased the orcs and goblins, and watched them for days to make sure they had stayed away. Spending time in the wilderness meant they were unable to communicate effectively with Headquarters, but Westerguard knew Perrigan had faith in him to get the job done. Westerguard went ahead and sent the infantry home, and left the Recon in charge of keeping watch. Runners had been sent to Headquarters to let them know of their victory and return, too late for Izira to find out. Gren was still tired and shaken by the events of the Blackhorn Tavern battle. His body cried out for sleep, but if he could manage it, he was going to go home and change, and then go to the Inn to see Izira. He could picture her amber brown eyes, her fingering the locket he gave her, standing behind the bar in the same position as when he left her. He marched into the clearing, and was surprised to find her standing at his door, his grey cloak wrapped about her. It was like she had been there waiting for him all that time.
The air clouded at her exhale. Her bent head lifting and her back straightening, she did not give in to doubt for long. If he was not here today, she would return another day. With that resolve, she turned to return to her home and saw Gren standing there. Her steps stilled and her face took on a look of wonder. Did she imagine him there? Was he real? Was he a ghost? Amber-brown eyes went back and forth, searching his face. ".. Gren?"
Gren dropped his pack and staff, pulled the hood of his spare cloak back and literally ran up to her, sweeping her up in a warm embrace, and pressed his cheek against hers. "It's me, Izira. I made back. Just like I said", he whispered in her ear. His hands moved across her back as if he was reminding himself what her curves felt like. He breathed in the scent of her hair. For the first time in days, he felt relieved.
As he embraced her, she held him tightly, only leaning back enough to look into his icy blue eyes. Her hands came up, holding the sides of his face. Her fingertips gently caressed his cheeks and beard, assuring her of his presence. "Gren! They had no word... no one knew..." Her eyes welled up, fully giving into the emotion of her fear and worry now that he was safe and there with her now. "I thought you dead... I thought I had lost you and you would never know how I felt..." Izira leaned forward, kissing Gren deeply, making up for the days missed and every moment she had longed to see him or at least have some word of his safe return. Only when her lungs demanded air did she pull her lips back. Looking into his eyes, "I could not bear the thought of losing you... I love you." And since he'd said it so many times before, she repeated her words for him, "I love you Gren Blockman." She returned her lips to his and kissed him again.
He felt his knees go weak and his body nearly collapse as a wave of emotion flowed over him. He had waited to hear those words for so long from her that he didn't know what to do with himself, other than hold her kiss, pushing her against the trunk of his treehouse. He forgot everything else but her, and moved his hands up and down her body as if he couldn't get enough of her. When they needed another pause for breath, he spoke quickly and quietly. "I love you, Izira. I love you so much."
When Gren walked out of the booth, he had a calm, serene smile on his face, a definite change in his demeanor from when he had entered. Izira tilted her head as she looked at him.
“Are you . . . feeling better now?”
Gren smiled more and laced his fingers with hers. “Yes, definitely. I was just reminded of what’s most important in life. Let’s go home.”
Izira gave Gren an odd look, but didn’t question it, since Gren seemed happier. Soon Gren chose instead to put his arm around Izira’s shoulders as they walked down the street, and she leaned her head on his shoulder as they made their way back to the Inn.
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