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Difference between revisions of "RP:Flowers for Algernon"

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{{Guild|Warrior's}}
 
{{ArcNav|Arc=Dissonance Theory}}
 
{{ArcNav|Arc=Dissonance Theory}}
 
'''Summary:''' Lionel and Penelope converse during a stroll through a serene landscape near Enchantment. Unsurprisingly, the Catalian has difficulty with physical contact, owing to his sensory-deprived upbringing and combative young adulthood. Just before Penelope successfully presses Lionel into revealing that his sister has put a bounty on his head, further demonstrating the strangeness inherent in the man's life, a tremor from deep within a nearby stream unearths a monolith emanating unfamiliar magical pulses. Unbeknownst to either of them, the very first seed has been planted for a conflict which will soon threaten every forest in Lithrydel.
 
'''Summary:''' Lionel and Penelope converse during a stroll through a serene landscape near Enchantment. Unsurprisingly, the Catalian has difficulty with physical contact, owing to his sensory-deprived upbringing and combative young adulthood. Just before Penelope successfully presses Lionel into revealing that his sister has put a bounty on his head, further demonstrating the strangeness inherent in the man's life, a tremor from deep within a nearby stream unearths a monolith emanating unfamiliar magical pulses. Unbeknownst to either of them, the very first seed has been planted for a conflict which will soon threaten every forest in Lithrydel.

Latest revision as of 23:33, 12 January 2020

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.


Part of the Dissonance Theory Arc


Summary: Lionel and Penelope converse during a stroll through a serene landscape near Enchantment. Unsurprisingly, the Catalian has difficulty with physical contact, owing to his sensory-deprived upbringing and combative young adulthood. Just before Penelope successfully presses Lionel into revealing that his sister has put a bounty on his head, further demonstrating the strangeness inherent in the man's life, a tremor from deep within a nearby stream unearths a monolith emanating unfamiliar magical pulses. Unbeknownst to either of them, the very first seed has been planted for a conflict which will soon threaten every forest in Lithrydel.

Mystical Stream

Penelope had been spending most of the day with the warrior. The two had decided to take a break from the indoors and go on horseback through the forest. The woman rides on her horse Delilah and the herbalist and the blonde are talking while riding. Perhaps they were going on dates without even knowing it—silly them. “I think that you should take me to a waterfall. I’ve always wanted to eat underneath a waterfall. It’s probably even more beautiful now that it’s winter,” she babbles. “When I went with Kyori to fetch the cerulean flower he needed, he didn’t get me to the darn thing. Too busy falling from a bridge and… well, you can probably guess that was not on his agenda,” odd. The Ardelian comes to a slow as they near the stream, the woman throws a leg from the horse and slides down. She takes the reigns of the horse and leads the cream steed to the water, so the animal could drink. The horse neighs and dips down to slurp up some drink.


Lionel knew little of Enchantment save for the valuable fact that it was roughly two days’ ride from Frostmaw’s outer reaches. Having spent the better part of the past week in the frigid north, aiding his guild soldiers in setting up a winter encampment for the downtrodden and a makeshift farm full of the hardiest crops in the land, the Catalian was pleased to be someplace warmer. At this time of year, “warm” was a relative term, but even now — without Halycanos to keep his body from succumbing to the cold — Lionel still preferred cool air above all. Cool air was precisely what the Enchantment region offered; it only added to the natural loveliness of the area and furthered the explanation as to why it was such a sought-after prize by darkness and light alike. Unlike Penelope’s horse, Lionel’s had no name; he had found the stallion up in the mountains recently besieged by a bear and decided that, in addition to wanting to save the horse regardless, he could also afford the opportunity to test his skills with Wraithbane. Things could have gone better. But at any rate, the horse had been saved, and now he was a friend to the former prince. “Just be careful,” Lionel cautioned, though his voice had the tenor of humor behind it. “Eating beneath a waterfall and all. Your food’s liable to get wet.” It was not the best joke he had ever made. Or anywhere close to it. In fact, Lionel himself cringed after saying it. Following the healer’s lead, Lionel hopped off his horse with the sort of alacrity that had been all but trademarked to the lad and let his newfound companion slurp to his mouth’s content. “You know, I don’t think I’ve heard much of this Kyori. Are they okay?”


Penelope had been wrapped warm from the chill that hovered over the forests. The woman wears a thick-knitted turtleneck underneath her long dress coat, she also sports a pair of regular, faded jeans. She was more casual today. “Wow, you should have a musician that is behind you from whenever you crack a joke,” her face is flat, but her eyes show teasing amusement. “I’ll have you know that maybe I like soggy food. Have you ever asked me?” She is being smart, but light all-the-same. Though, the amusement falls from her face as he speaks of Kyori. “No, he is not okay. Unfortunately, this was after our adventure, he had an accident. He’s in a coma… he isn’t waking. Lanara wants me to try to take a look at him when I get the chance. She’s worried, says he is growing weaker, but I told her we just don’t know when he will wake up, but I said I’d check him anyway.” The woman moves off to find a nearby rock to plop on next to the stream. “Pity, really. I had named an oil after him. Made a joke that if he died on our trip, I would write this epic journal on how he was just the bees knees, you know? Now, it’s –true-. Not saying he is dead, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to keep that promise for him.” The woman then moves off the grimmer subject. “What have you been doing since you’ve been back on your feet?”


Lionel gave the soggy food comment a moment’s thought before deducing that certain types of seafood genuinely fit the bill. Did picnics typically involve seafood? Lionel had no idea. He tried his best to picture a cloth laid out upon a patch of grass or behind a waterfall and what sorts of food might be placed upon it. He thought about lobster and scallops and cod and crab. Something didn’t feel right about the image, and not just because the lattermost prospective dining item made him think of Kreekitaka instead. “That sounds terrible,” he said with regard to Kyori’s condition -- though in truth a small portion of the meaning involved feasting upon uyeer, too. “I fear there’s not much I can do to aid in this kind of situation but for what it’s worth Frostmaw’s first shipment of supplies for your clinic should be arriving shortly. There will be plenty more where that came from. And gold, too. Gold enough to make things bigger, or fancier, or… more golden? Whatever best befits a clinic. And let me know if any wintry roots are helpful in potions and poultices and all that pizazz. We’re growing whatever can be grown up at the Royal Academy.” After speaking as exhaustively on the issue as he could, Lionel took the hint and changed topic alongside Penelope. As he patted his horse’s mane, he realized he had already answered her inquiry in part. “We’ve also been giving shelter to the homeless. Steward or otherwise, there’s only so much real power I have in the city of Frostmaw itself. The frost giants are a proud race -- and sometimes pride means bitterness. I won’t let anything happen to anyone on my watch.” Not that he could save them all. Lionel could never save them all, a fact which would haunt him even now, when at last he felt freer and happier. “I recruited a strange changeling named Quintessa three days hence. She just so happens to be the Baroness of House Dragana. Oh, and she wants me dead.” He shrugged. “She seems a bit more amicable now though.”


Penelope cants her head at Lionel’s kindness of fulfilling Yerrel’s hut with new supplies. A smile forms on her freckled face. The smile is giddy and wide. The woman slowly stands and with ease, she attempts to wrap her arms around him in an embrace. “Thank you so, so much for your kindness towards our small healing hut,” she then pulls back. “Yerrel will be relieved. Perhaps we can get some new cots! More open windows!” She exclaims. The woman then eases back into her calmer state. “You have no idea how many citizens you are helping, Lionel. I’m thankful.” She then holds up a finger. “While you’re on the topic,” she was not afraid to ask for more help, “Cerulean flowers are rare to come by. Frostmaw has a full field of them. It’d be beneficial. It was the whole reason I was able to help strengthen your heart. Also, winter poppies. They are a great healing aid,” she nods firmly. The woman then continues to let him talk and she is almost in awe from his helpful deeds. She then, however, loses that calm gaze as he speaks about Quintessa. The woman looks stoic and she blatantly stares at him. ‘Oh, and she wants me dead’. “Oh, oh,” she says casually in exaggeration. The woman waves a nonchalant hand to play off his calm attitude. “Small talk, nothing to worry about Penelope. She wants me dead. How’s the weather?” She mocks him briefly before she blows up—well, not too dramatically. She was not that crazy. “Are you kidding me?” Pause. “Lionel,” she groans. “You have barely made it out of your bed and someone is after you. You’re going to kill me while trying to make sure –you’re- okay,” she sort of whines, but she is not mad. Anger never rose from the girl--well, except for the battlefield.


Lionel knew he needed to become comfortable with physical contact. He would do his best and pray that was enough. Penelope would have no doubt sensed a measure of hesitation when she embraced him, and it was all he could to hope that she understood it wasn’t she who prompted it -- not truly. It was a foreign thing to him outside of combat and it would take him time to adjust. Nevertheless, he wrapped his arms around her briefly in return, illustrating to the healer that he was trying. “I know the field, actually. I’ve been there before and I’ll go there again. Gladly. As for the poppies, that shouldn’t be too difficult. We’re growing those for Rose Tico, the guild’s standby nurse.” He smiled. It was nice when things came together so smoothly. Of course, he probably should have expected the Quintessa thing to go less smoothly. As his horse reared up from the watering hole and came to rest beside him, he casually handed the stallion some cornmeal. The air grew a bit cooler now and the sky darkened, though only slightly; rain seemed unlikely save for a drizzle. “I know, I know. I’m sorry to cause you such worry. The girl was hired by someone I once trusted with my life to assassinate me.” He didn’t want to elaborate, though he was keenly aware Penelope might make him. “We fought off a bunch of other hired assassins together -- go figure, right? -- and I offered her a better-paying gig. Which, at least so far, it seems she has taken up. I’ll be careful, I promise. But the kid’s got promise. As in, I can help her be someone better. And at the same time, she isn’t yet good enough to bring me down.”


Penelope was an affectionate person for the most part, but she sensed others had a hard time catching on. Hugs were always easy. Everything else? No. The woman is frozen next to him as she stares into those blue eyes of his. Her arms begin to cross. This would not be as smooth. Penelope, normally gentle, was now frustrated. Would one not be frustrated after putting so much time and patience into a heart? “Oh, someone you –trusted- did this? Are you serious? Why would they do such a thing?” The herbalist blinks at the man before her. “So what… are you like training her to be better and then going to give her the opportunity to slay you? Because that’s crazy, Lionel.” Brows pull in. The healer, though, would know that this was his lifestyle. They were on different sides of the spectrum that was their passions. Something she would have to adapt to. There was no changing the thrill that brought the man to life, and she would never intend to. As he promises the carefulness, she sort of looks uneasy. “Please, just… if you’re in trouble, find me. Have someone bring you to me—anything. I just hate to see you suffer from something so minor after surviving something so… heroic. You haven’t lived.” The silken tone comes back to the girl and she is, again, recovering grace. “You need to live—for yourself. Be your new being. Live without the burden.”


Lionel stammered. This conversation was proving rather challenging, and not because he innately disagreed with a thing Penelope said. Rather, he knew she was right, but his whole life had been so far removed from what she was telling him that this was not an easy pill to swallow from the healer. Living for himself? He had no idea what it meant and even less of an inkling how exactly to go about it. He had hoped that by taking a stroll with the woman today he was demonstrating precisely that; in hindsight, Lionel realized, he had spent nearly every waking moment since Penelope saved his life focusing on the betterment of others. In this, the two were not so different. Opposite ends of passion’s spectrum though they were, ultimately there was a link. No wonder he felt something toward her. But all he could do now was continue stammering. How could he possibly explain to Penelope that his own sister wanted him dead? He could scarcely believe it himself. It seemed an extreme reaction to his imprisonment at best and an act of lunacy otherwise. And her husband, Brand? Sundance, the last surviving Catalian dwarf once in Lionel’s employ? Perhaps the best way to tell Penelope was to make it clear that he was just as confused as she would be. “The truth is,” he started, blocking out his anxiety long enough to speak. “While there are obviously others, the one who wants me dead the most is my very own --” Lionel’s words were cut off, overwhelmed by the tremendous sound of a lightning bolt striking dead center in the stream despite the sparse number of dark clouds in the sky. The horses screamed their neighs and spun around frantically as the very air began to feel zapped, the scent and taste of ozone overwhelming everyone. As if the sudden bolt were not strange enough, the swift rise of a three-meter-high obsidian monolith from the water where the strike had hit blew modest waves in every direction. Lionel and Penelope were only so far from the scene, and the stream only so wide, so their feet and legs were immediately soaked. The monolith shone an eerie emerald light behind each and every unidentifiable rune engraved upon it, and even the least magically-inclined observers would feel something foreign and unsavory emanating from the slab.


Penelope stands there patiently without any fidgets. She is full of pride—strong. He finally begins to speak after his long moment of silence. As he is about to spill the beans, the strike of lightening hits the water and she jolts in startle. The strike hit the water and splashed onto her legs. “What the hell,” she then moves automatically to Delilah to try to tame her down. “Easy, Dee. It’s okay,” she places a hand on the side of the cream horse. Delilah neighs and sort of trots in place out of panic. Moss eyes then follow where the strike landed where the stone rose. There was a small bit of hairs the pricked up on her arms. Something was different. An odd sensation. Her head tilts and she is slowly moving toward the stream with no hesitation just pure curiosity. “It’s like a weird engraved rock—you see this?” The frustrating assassination conversation was now over. The woman squints at the monolith. “What does this say…? I don’t have my glasses. Can you read this?”


Lionel didn’t have time to reflect on the implications involved in the fact that a bolt of lightning and the emergence of a monolith were somehow more comforting occurrences than the need to discuss the most fraught happenings in his personal life. He simply acted on instinct, calming his nameless horse before charging into the water to get a closer look at the risen slab. “I see this,” the Catalian called back in affirmation, even as he was already halfway to the artifact. He winced at the runic engravings, shaking his head in disappointment. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The text seems like it may have slight similarities with the Haathians. They’re the ones who were responsible for that whole insectoid menace a few years back,” he elaborated. “But it’s only barely linked. At best.” Or at worst, as the case may have been. Anything Haathian was probably bad news. “I don’t know.” Lionel’s voice was resigned, defeated. “I haven’t looked at those old texts in too long. The only thing I can say with certainty is that this is magical. These engravings are more like glyphs. Maybe it’s just some sylph thing?” He was up in front of the monolith now, glancing over it from top to bottom. Briefly, he was tempted to touch it, but then he remembered a rough old Catalian saying he wouldn’t repeat aloud right now for several reasons: it’s best not to put one’s dick in things that are frakked enough as-is. Still, he observed the thing for clues, and noted that the stone composite was smooth and unlike any material he’d ever seen. Slowly, the “glyphs” powered down, leading to the disarmament of the lights shining behind the text. The entire artifact seemed to go inert; the magic dissipated from the area and the few dark clouds vanished. Everything seemed back to normal again save for one little thing: a three-meter monolith was now here, and it definitely wasn’t before.


Penelope watches as Lionel is already closer to the slab then she. The woman does not hesitate and follows into the stream to remain behind him. A shadow. “Maybe… I don’t know much about magical entities… I sort of leave that up to the intelligent magical dwellers,” she smirked. “Like Yerrel!” She exclaims before squinting some more and she watches the lights of the magic power down. “I only speak a little bit of Ardelian, so I’m unsure. I feel like this is significant… it’s sort of odd, right?” She looks at him with her soaked legs. “We should let someone know. What if this is some warning sign? Legitimately.” The woman then sloshes backwards onto land. “Especially if it’s Haathian.”


Lionel was gladdened to find that Penelope was on the same brainwave with him now. Complications involving greater intimacy were going to be the hard part if a relationship between them was to be forged, but external threats? These they knew well. “Yerrel,” he repeated. “Let’s tell Yerrel. And Lanara, maybe? And certainly Enchantment’s own people. Sure would be nice if Mulgrew showed up right about now, which means -- natch -- that she will not.” Lionel paused, tempting fate afterward in the thin hopes he’d be proven wrong. He wasn’t. “Picnic beneath a waterfall,” the Catalian abruptly brought pack prior conversation. “I think that would be rad. Let’s do it.” He turned to face Penelope, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “Soon,” he promised. Without further ado, he hopped up on his horse and waited for his conversation partner to follow. Whatever this was, both of them had learned many times over that always in life it was better to be safe than sorry.


Penelope nods along with him. “I think telling Yerrel –and- Lanara are good people to confide in. After all, who knows what the hell that was,” she then sort of crinkles her nose at the sound of Mulgrew. Like Penelope would enjoy the elder’s company. Not after nearly leaving Lionel for dead. As the conversation whiplashes back to the original topic at-hand, she snickers. “I promise that I don’t actually like soggy food. Maybe like… apple sauce? Porridge? Maybe we can eat before sitting under the waterfall,” she continues to chatter away like she always does with him. The woman then follows lead and climbs on top of her horse. “Or maybe we can sit near the cliffs that look over Lithrydel!” Would they ever make up their mind? The two then ride slowly off into the distance back to where the hut remained.