westwhere | We'll light up the sky [open]

Entry tags:

We'll light up the sky [open]

WHO: Eleven & OPEN
WHEN: After dragon shenanigans to mid-month-ish?
WHERE: Taravast's gardens, artisanal district, canals
WHAT: A catch-all?
WARNINGS: None so far, will update if needed

1. garden magic (late morning)

His spirit was no longer a fragile, shattered wisp so weak he barely felt it even when he sought it. Now, soothed and nurtured over the course of two months, it sat warmly in his chest, resonant with the light of the sun and the breath of life in the grass and leaves around him. The next step was as simple as it was taxing: regaining strength much like a weakened limb. Meditation was no longer enough.

Eleven shifted up to his knees and folded his hands together in an echo of prayer. Slowly, a band of runic light circled into being- at first close to his body, then gradually expanding outward. His brows furrowed, hands clasping tighter in concentration as sweat beaded his brow and the flicker of holy energy wavered, then blinked out.

He breathed a hard exhale, settling back down in a daze. Eyes slotting open, unfocused until movement snapped his awareness to his more immediate surroundings, onto someone he hoped hadn't been there before (or for too long)- but then, his eyes had been closed since he'd begun to meditate some hour or so ago.

He blinked, a sheepish smile spreading over his face. "Ah, good morning.."

2. forging (late afternoon)

[With a handful of tasks to get through and a decent amount of coin to manage it with, Eleven manages to broker a deal to rent the forge for a span of hours a day. Most of it in extra work, but it's wonderful, simple, honest work and in another time, another dimension, it could have been the beginning and end of his worldly concerns.

In the present moment, dressed down in a blacksmith's practical wear, thoughts of politics and the undead take a backseat to the heat of the forge and the shape of molten metal beneath his hands.

Given that this isn't his forge however, he blinks to attention whenever he catches the shape of someone hovering nearby. With his hair tied back and soot stuck to his face, Eleven spares a thought to wonder if he'd even be readily recognizable if anyone from court were to spot him. Concerns and a thread of backstory to think about weaving later. For now-]

Can I help you?

3. ferrying (early-mid evening)

As the sun set and the sky darkened, Eleven donned his half-mask and the familiar comfort of his coat for a quiet evening on the water.

He drifted down the canals, a practiced hand now with near-silent strokes of the oar and ripples of a gentle wind left in the gondola's wake. Something that felt near-to an artform, and a point of quiet, insignificant pride as he slowed up to a spot at the bank where he'd made out the silhouette of someone waiting.

Eleven called out with a friendly voice and a smile lit by the edge of light from the single lantern hung from the prow.

"Where would you like to go?"

4. wildcard

[ooc: anything we've spoken about before, or otherwise adjacent to these prompts that you think might work better is fine! hit me up if you'd like to thread something else! also happy to match formatting]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It sounds like an odd way to explain magic- certainly not on the scale of native sorcerors. But he smiles, peering curiously at the glow, then opens his own to a small spring of fire. Eleven extinguishes the flame with a curl of his fingers]

I know what you mean, though I can't increase the heat of the fire any, or wield it with much precision. But you say you can use yours for welding?

[ He knew he came to the right place. Marcos smiles broadly at him when he shows him the flame and proves why he wasn't startled by his powers. They might not call themselves mutants here, but he hasn't really figured out the difference.

He's helped people train their abilities before, so the fact that it can't do everything Eleven wants to now, doesn't mean it won't. ]

I can make it into a beam. Cutting through metal can take a while, but it's handy for welding. [ He shrugs and lets the light die down. ] I got into doing designs in metal. Not as practical, but we all need a hobby, right?

[ He tilts his head, curious. ]

Is that how you got involved here?

[Eleven hums a curious note, intrigued. It's an interesting adaptation for such a power- and one he never would have ever though of himself.

He shrugs, glancing around self-consciously]

Forging is a practical skill where I'm from. Less so in this city, where people can buy most everything they want unless their needs are rather specific, but.. I like the work, and the assurance of quality for what I make for myself and others is nice.

Some of the work I've agreed to take on in exchange for this workspace is rather detailed- the sort of intricacy you'd expect of noble types, if you'd enjoy working with that.

[ He seems to understand how he feels. His life took him in another direction, but he's always enjoyed working with his hands in a less destructive way. In another life maybe he would have been given that opportunity.

Suggesting he could help with his intricate work is more than he was expecting, and he nods at the offer. ]

Sure. I'd like that. If you think I wouldn't embarrass you. [ Maybe it's not what he should be focused on right now, but it feels good to talk about something less overwhelming.

He has so many questions he's not sure where to start. Where he ends up seems a little too forced to sound natural, but he's trying. ]

So you're not from here?

[He gives a half-shrug]

I'm better with crafting more than detail work. So long as you don't warp the metal as to be detrimental, it should do. But if you're worried about something, you can leave it and I'll do my best to work with it later.

[Eleven turns back to the cooled wire, plucking it up to toss back and be fired again. He spends a moment working the billows while he deliberates on how to answer]

I'm not from here. I'm from a small farming village. I've decided to come support Vannozza.

That takes the pressure off.

[ When Marcos first arrived, he wasn't sure that small farming villages would still be standing, but things have looked a lot differently since he got out of the tower.

It's interesting how he would leave to support Vannozza. He observes him quietly for a moment before he broaches it further. ]

That's a coincidence. Do you mind if I ask why?

[He laughs with a flash of a grin. He's lying, but the words roll of his tongue easily enough; practiced, now- if entirely insincere]

I wanted to see the city. It was a good opportunity.

[ Marcos accepts that answer easily enough, even if he assumes it had some financial draw. Then again, he doesn't know what his home life is like, especially since he has powers. It might not have anything to do with Vannozza herself. Maybe they're just more accepting here.

He debates what to ask next, and it's probably obvious how carefully he's choosing his words before he decides. ]

Is it normally this... exciting?

[Eleven hums as he recasts the molten metal, carefully eyeing its distribution]

With dragons and such? No.. not for the city, anyway. But if the rumors are to be believed, then that might change.

[ He lifts an eyebrow, but he has to ask. ]

Which rumors are those?

[His lips thin, glancing around briefly to be sure too many people weren't lingering around. His voice lowers]

That the undead are already here. The necromantic district, others. The other cities in the region have already been taken..

[ He was tortured by undead witches when he came here, so he has some feelings about that. It's all a little hard to wrap his head around, even now. They have an entire necromantic district, and it sounds like they need it. ]

...Do you have any idea how it's spreading? Is it like a disease?

[The man has a lot of questions. It's only natural of course, but he's grown wary. There's more sensitive information he isn't comfortable with sharing. Eleven gives him a smile]

Why don't we get a drink later and talk more then?

[ Maybe he pushed too hard, but it's troubling that he doesn't answer. There's so much he doesn't understand, especially about the undead. He takes a breath and nods. ]

Yeah. No, that's fine. I should let you get back to work.

[ He steps back and smiles again, like he doesn't have fifty more burning questions about this. ]

I'll just take a look around.

[Eleven's brows hike, but he lets him be. He does have work to do, after all. He turns back to it and leaves Marcos to his own devices for the next few hours.

As the sun begins to set, Eleven lets the forge cool and sets the tools back in their place, then stretches and looks about]

How about that drink, then?

[ Marcos honestly wasn't working the entire time Eleven was, but he hadn't strayed far while he explored and tried to learn what he could from the locals. He was fairly familiar with the forge by the time he finds him again, and to his utter surprise, it paid off to hang around.

When Eleven voluntarily asks him if he wants to get a drink, it takes him a second. Here he thought that was just his way of politely blowing him off for asking too many questions. ]

Oh. Sure. [ It's weird to hear that from someone so young, but he's going to go with it for now. ] Sounds great. I think they've had enough of me for the day.

[Eleven grins, chuckling shortly, and makes a vain attempt at brushing some of the soot off of his work clothes. Oh well, it isn't as though they'd be patronizing an upscale establishment. He stretches his arms out with a satisfied grunt]

Follow me. I know a good place with decent fare.

[He leads them along a short walk along the street where crowds get a little thicker, but he keeps an eye on Marcos and before long, they're seated at a small table in a crowded tavern. Eleven is bright-eyed and comfortable in the din, tucking into his ale and simple meal with a pleased smile]

You were one of the ones from the tower, then?

[ It only strikes him as slightly strange that Eleven takes to him so easily, but he smiles back and follows him anyway. He hasn't taken the tour, so he tries to pay attention to their surroundings on the way to get a sense of where they are.

Marcos appreciates the tavern they wind up in, and gets settled at the table. He only lets his gaze linger on the ale Eleven has in front of him for a moment, but doesn't comment on it after he asks about the tower. ]

Was I too obvious? [ Said almost like that wasn't a horribly traumatic experience. ] Me and a friend of mine were there together. Gotta say, I wasn't expecting to find a place like this when we got out of there.

[He smiles, all good humor]

Not for me, but I'm not terribly bright. It's just that some of things you said seemed like the sort of thing we came into, here.

[The amusement in his eyes fades to something more earnest] But I'm glad you're all right.

[He takes a sip of ale] You had questions?

[ Marcos assumes he's being kind, so he shakes his head. This isn't the type of place he's used to blending into, but he hasn't had that long to adapt. ]

Just a few. [ Or nothing but. It's a lot to take in, which makes it hard to find out where to start. ] I feel like I've gotten in the middle of something I don't have any business being in. Do you think what happened in the tower is going to happen again?

[He takes a breath, the words to uncertainty rising easily to his tongue, but he hums a short note instead, expression shifting as he thinks it over]

The first of us arrived here in a similar state. The second on slave ships. There have been scattered appearances since, but with all that and now the tower, I'd guess it's rather likely.

[Eleven taps a finger on the table, frowning] We were told once that we had been summoned at the behest of an undead warlord, but that force was- has gone. I don't know much more about how or why it happens.

[ He looks up at that. Not that he entirely believed that Eleven came from a nearby farming down, but it was a smooth lie. Which makes him wonder how often he's had to tell it.

As far as undead warlords summoning them... that's harder to wrap his head around. ]

Were you a part of the first?

[Eleven ducks his head in a nod, idly swirling his soup before taking a sip]

Of those that survived, anyway. According to Bloodbonnet... [He frowns, expression going tight] Well, killing people like us didn't solve anything.

[ Marcos studies him for a moment, more questions popping up after he alludes to what he went through. He'd been given a brief rundown of what happened before he got there, but at the time it was hard to take it all in. ]

Bloodbonnet? [ Look, he's heard some strange codenames mutants come up with, so he can't be sure that's a nickname. ] I heard a little bit about you being summoned for your powers. Is there a reason to hide them now?

[Eleven offers a sheepish smile, reminded not everyone's familiar with the nickname]

A merchant.. acquaintance of ours who refuses to give us his name.

[But for Marcos' other question, he blinks surprise] I hadn't thought of it that way. We've been trying to avoid drawing attention to ourselves since we first arrived, it seems. Even before then, I..

[He shakes his head] We have reputations to maintain, so I've been trying to be careful. Though perhaps my skills are a touch beyond what's expected, but they're all rather practical and everyone knows I've apprenticed in the healing halls since shortly after arriving.. But we're playing our parts while we're here. No one's meant to know we're all working together or what we are.

[Eleven shrugs, dipping a bit of bread into his soup] Still, magic seems common here.

[He pops the warm, softened bread into his mouth and chews thoughtfully] Whatever you think is best for you.

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