Eleven (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bearshermark) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
westwhere2021-10-09 04:46 pm
bearshermark) wrote in westwhere2021-10-09 04:46 pm
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]
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]
no subject
"I don't know," he said honestly. "..Is there anything I need to do?"
no subject
"Just get ready. Don't think of it as anything that can hurt you." Despite the scar on his face, Zuko met Eleven's eye with conviction. "It's energy we're passing between ourselves, just roll with the way it moves as it reaches you and catch it."
no subject
Energy. Just energy. The concept isn't an unfamiliar one, but never before has it been something so tangible.
"Okay," he said, fingers spreading in preparation. He's already held it before; it won't hurt him now. "I'll try it."
no subject
He believed Eleven could handle it.
no subject
Eleven kept his fingers splayed despite the warning in his mind telling him that a fireball was coming straight for him. Energy. Energy he'd already held once before.
The fire came to his hands without pain- only a gentle warmth pulsing with his breaths. He grins relief and elation, throwing Zuko a grateful look.
"I didn't really think that would work."
no subject
"Next time we'll see how you do catching it while running and trying to dodge," there was nothing in the way Zuko spoke that suggested he was kidding, but there was just the smallest hint of amusement at the corners of his unusually colored eyes.