RP:A Gift With A Twist Is Better Than None

Part of the Surface Tension Arc

Synopsis: Sky and X find each other in Sage. They discuss the recent calamities in the Underdark, though Skylei doesn't take credit for the atrocities. X asks whether returning to Sage or the removal of the drow is more important; Sky chooses the latter. Seemingly pleased (though who can tell), X presents Skylei with a pendant designed to aid her quest. She doesn't enquire as to whether there are negative effects associated with the pendants use (there are). As Skylei leaves, X ominously promises that they will meet again 'before all of this is over'...

Sage Forest Bell

There was an entrance post here, but Skylei didn't save it. All that happened was that Skylei was sitting up at the top of the bell tower. Nothing exciting happened, so you're not missing out. Don't worry - I know you were. <.<

Xersom, on the contrary, cared nothing for the forest or its inhabitants; his desire was merely the ruin of the drow. But he was a wanderer, clad in the marked faded grey of hermit's robes, and was not going particularly out of his feigned-hobbled way to approach the bell tower with the aid of an old and gnarled walking stick. Faux face and vivid, almost luminous green eyes that were just as fake as the mask they bore, silently perused the area as his limped steps waned, ebbed, and finally ceased at the base of the structure. There, both of his scar-covered hands, carved with the infernal litany of some ancient and evil language, both came to rest stop his cane. "So willing to risk your life?" He softly said in that sinister but soothing voice, breaking the illusion that he didn't know Skylei was present.

That voice. Skylei knows that voice so very well in spite of having heard it so few times. She won’t admit it, but this man is one of the reasons she keeps venturing back to Sage in spite of the imminent danger that lurks behind every tree and grows with every step she takes into the forest. This is the only place she knows where to find X, or rather, he will find her, “None of this risks I’ve taken have killed me yet.” Skylei remains unsure as to X’s purpose in her life. Friend or ultimate foe? Guardian angel or the devil on her shoulder? In spite of this, the mysterious stranger remains the half-breed’s only confidante in the pursuit of Sage, so his presence is welcomed. For Xersom to reach her atop the bell tower would likely take some effort on his part, so Skylei leans over the side to speak with him, Naturally she lowers her defences; foolish or not, she believes X will keep her safe – and he hasn’t failed her thus far, “Haven’t you heard? They’re not looking at us anymore, not as much as they were. I suppose that’s what happens when it looks like the Daughter of the First House has slaughtered an arena full of people, no?”

Those vivid and almost luminous green gaze, part of his faux face in the manner that they certainly were not his real eyes, despite their lifelike movements, swiveled to scrutinize curiously the elf that leaned over the side. "A stroke of luck, that," he offered in subtle praise without any such betrayal of whether or not he knew the intricacies of the event; it could've been either. But there was no hitch in the dark, morbid way that his voice reigned so bittersweet, like mulled wine laced with poison. "But it shall not last," he offered unsolicited advice, "For if anything has survived the drow civilization, it is infighting. They are -accustomed- to that. A disadvantage, certainly, but not a garuntee of any victory." A gentle silence fell, marked and broken intermittantly by the tap of his fingertips on his old, gnarled cane. "Which do you prefer, ultimately? The preservation of your home? Or the destruction of the drow?"

Skylei almost visibly preens at the veiled praise. How strange that she should seek the approval of a stranger above the approval of her own people. But, that is the case. “No,” Skylei agreed without question, “It won’t last. But it is a long enough distraction to persuade the council to lead an attack, nay?” Skylei retracts her head and leans back against one of the pillars that made up the bell tower, “I needed a win to unite the council, you know that. To prove that it isn’t a lost cause and to prove the drow are fallible. With that proven, I have removed one of the barriers.” That said, X forces Skylei to think about what she ultimately hopes to gain from the skirmish. Whether her kin would agree is another matter entirely, “I want Sage. I want what is rightfully mine. But should I reach the place where only one is a viable option, I will destroy the people over the preservation of the forest. Forests may be regrown, after all, but blood is rarely reborn.”

Xersom's faux gaze lifted in order to view the elf with vivid, almost luminous green eyes in a careful scrutiny of her, though despite her answer, his face gave no recourses of either approval or dissapointment. In fact, the only way that any would know is the slight 'mm' of satisfaction that briefly emanated from his scar-laden throat. Even that throat was covered in the infernal litany of carved scars in tiny script, made evident when he cocked his head to look up at the woman. "Such a decision may weigh heavily. But before that decision, you will have to fight your oppressors, in the open, regardless of whether or not you wish to. I have something for you, for that." His hand opened, then quickly closed into a fist, which let a pendant fall and catch in his grip, as if manifested out of thin air. It was darker than black, with blood red and obviously wicked-aligned inscriptions upon its diamond-cut surface.

The pendant that falls down from Xersom’s grasp instantly captivates the half-blood. The darkness, both of the colour and of the all-encompassing aura of the object should lead her recoiling in horror. Instead, she is drawn from her perch by the bell back down to the forest floor. Skylei says naught until she has reached his side. Then, she would reach out her hand to touch the top of the one that holds the pendant. An ever so light touch, yet her hand betrays her thoughts by staying a little longer than necessary. Yes, she is as fascinated by this object as she is by the one who holds it; that much is undeniable. “How will it help?” There is the question that overshadows their every meet is that overarching why. Why does he help her? Why does he desire the death of the drow as fiercely as she? Never had she wished to ask it more and yet, she continues to stay her tongue and merely seeks answer to the easier question.

Why does he help her? Why does he continue to work to this end, named simply as 'X' and offering no such loyalty to the elves aside from the destruction of the drow? Questions that weren't asked, and even still, might not be answered regardless; they certainly weren't answered now. The lingering touch, just longer than necessary by same amount as the lightness of her contact, assuredly did not go unnoticed as a subtle nuance indicative of her curiosity, but the faux face of the scarred man in those old, faded grey robes offered nothing to betray any judgement, or even the knowledge thereof; it was as if she were a thief to get away with stealing just a moment of a touch more than offered. The pendant and its dark necklace were cool to the touch; not cold, chilled, or even biting, but a foreboding coolness that was moreso the absence of warmth than the presence of a wintery chill in the same way that darkness was the absence of light. "It will keep poison from killing you," for a price, of course, as he technically knew no restorative magic; this would not be so kind. "Though I would advise to use it as seldom as possible, so try not to be cut by drow weaponry, yes?" That voice; it was a sound that was both foreboding and alluring, like the manner at which a moth is entranced by flame until it is burned. The pendant? Would corrupt both physically and mentally with every use; it was simply twisting the poison, not curing it. Preventative of death, but more and more corruption mixed in an elf never had 'good' results for Lithrydel.

A gift with a twist, how strangely fitting from the man without a real name, nor a real face. Still, a gift with a twist is better than none, and if it helps Skylei to negate the threat of the drow, she’ll take it, near enough without question. That’s her second mistake. Her first mistake, though she’s blind enough to not to see it yet, is trusting a stranger that she met in the woods; she clearly wasn’t listening to all the stranger danger talks that all little children are forced to endure periodically as they grow. Whilst the ‘twist’ pertaining to the pendant itself remains unknown to Skylei she makes note to heed the advice she is given – don’t use too often. As for avoiding the poisoned blades that the drow are so fond of, well she hadn’t been planning to get to near them anyway, but now she’s gifted with a new incentive to avoid the toxins. “I will be sure to avoid the blades as much as I can. I’d rather remain uncut and poison free; pendant or no.”

Xersom was the spider speaking to the fly, who was entranced by the enigmatic web that was spun without the realization that she, for all her effort, could not escape its hold. But if the spider wanted nothing more to toy with his prey, then it surely would be the ancient; it was purposefully that he withheld information and manipulated the desires of the woman with a seedy word here, or a soft suggestion there. A gift with a twist, only in further mystery but one that could very well taint Skylei further by the cost of her ambition; thus was the life of tragic heroes -or heroes that became villains. Those vivid, almost luminous green studied her in silence behind the pendant she looked upon, with the subtle expression upon his lifelike mask of a growth of curiosity.

Here is where the comparison ends. Whilst the fly struggles for freedom, knowing that entrapment in the web is destined to lead to a sticky end. Skylei, unlike the fly, remains unaware of her precarious position, rather, she welcomes the embrace of the web that weaves around her in spite of the fact that she fails to comprehend its significance. For someone who prided themselves on their intellect, Skylei is a shameful disgrace. Still, the half-blood has enough sense to at least ask a single question of the captivating pendant before blindly accepting the assistance of her figurative spider. And the question is that of sense, “Should I be afraid?” Grey eyes lift to meet with green, her gaze broken from the pendant for the first time since it made an appearance.

Xersom watched those grey eyes flicker as they moved from pendant to the almost luminous green in a meeting, and that sensible question caused flawless, faux tracts of his lips to curve upward at one corner in a subtle smirk of a smile. "Cautious, not afraid," came his sinister yet soothing voice, deceptive and alluring like the hidden thorns on the stem of a rose, "but sometimes caution, too, must be thrown to the wind."

Skylei cannot help but see the irony in his advice. So much so, in fact, that a smile is actually drawn across her features and she jests. With X, Skylei never jests, “Ah yes, ‘caution must be thrown to the wind’, says the man who asks every time he sees me if I value my life so little that I’d dare venture into Sage.” Still, one doesn’t choose to accept gifts from strangers if they aren’t planning to live a little dangerously, “Do I need to know anything else?” This question is asked not just in regard to the pendant, but in general. If X is the guardian figure that Skylei delusionally sees him as, she relies on his guidance. He is yet to set her wrong.

Xersom mirrors the smile with a subtle one of his own, just as before, in the relation of the irony in his own words. But as the times previous, the man's advice was vague, far and few between, despite the delusions that Skylei thought of him; he could merely whisper in her ear, so to speak, as he relayed in reply to her words. "I think it's near time that your kind see to a victory. The old like myself need their rest," despite that his mask's features were so deceptively and immaculately young, he was an ancient being; with feigned stiffness and age-fatigue, the creature moved to sit with his back against the belltower wall, in the grass, and laid his cane beside him. He offered her no invitation to join him, but offered no dismissal either. Yet, it was clear there'd be no more advice given at the moment; his seeds of manipulation had been sown.

Skylei doesn’t lose well, which is unfortunate as being wood elven kin has meant naught but years of loss and frustration of late. But tides can turn and damn sure enough, it’s time for them to turn. To join? Too familiar, too friendly, too out of kilter with everything that had so far defined their relationship. To leave? An option, yes, Skylei Lucindio is a busy woman of late, but this was the figure that she had hoped would appear at each moment in her crusade, and she’s not sure when he will appear again or even if he will appear again. She takes the third option and stays where the two had stood, merely turning her body so that it faces his. Not too close, not too far. It feels the most logical option. “There are safer places to rest than in Sage with the company of elven blood. Shall I leave you be?”

Xersom 's eyes gently closed their faux lids over the equally fake and luminous pulses of green sights, "Drow patrols are en route, so you had best. But do not worry. We -will- meet one another again," came that seductively sinister voice, that both resonated with power and was veiled by a softened edge all the same; it was dangerous and safe all at once. "Before all of this is over."

Skylei trusts that Xersom is correct and that it is time for her to be making a swift exit. Bow taken from her back in preparation for any she might meet, her eyes are drawn back to the figure at the bottom of the bell tower. None of her usual farewells fit the situation at hand, nor the man she is directing them too, and so, instead, Skylei echoes his words with a nod, “Before all of this is over.” Then she’s gone, disappearing between the trees with as much haste as half-elven legs grant her.