RP:A Guiding Flame

From HollowWiki

Summary: While studying mysterious ruins at the base of Frostmaw's long-reaching mountain chain, Locke meets Talyara for the first time. He becomes immediately inquisitive toward her, as he is wont to do toward most, and she offers wise counsel as to the probable function of a red-and-silver sigil. It's just one small piece of a much larger puzzle, and Locke will continue to puzzle over that puzzle until he's satisfied with his theories about the ruins. But more importantly, he has made a new friend!

Main Hall

Locke | It was cold. Truly, there were no baser things for his mind to fixate upon, but Locke Abigail could not concentrate on much else. Raised in a temperate faraway forest which leaned toward warmth during the hotter months, Locke had only occasionally encountered snow in his childhood and adolescence and he’d never had to endure it for long. He did get caught unawares by a winter storm one time after he’d chosen to travel the world, but he was fortunate to be within visual range of a log cabin with a tremendously generous trapper who had no qualms looking after him until it passed. Here in Lithrydel, in this northern expanse he had just begun to trek, Locke had one prevailing thought: it was cold. Yet still he marched. A farmer near Xalious, when pressed to divulge the extent of her knowledge about the surrounding area, relented for long enough to tell him about some old ruins “up past Melbane and out into the early tundra.” When he’d ask who exactly Melbane was, the woman was less helpful, blinking at him like he was a country bumpkin. Deep down inside, Locke knew he pretty much was one, but it suited him just fine and in any case he’d eventually chanced upon this Melbane character and traipsed northbound until he found these ruins. There was no mistaking them -- they were old, their patterns alien to him and their style unfamiliar, and they were vast, even more so than the farmer had declared. They captivated him, and now, as he flipped through his sketchbook and crudely drew what he could discern of an ancient symbol, he was willing to endure this numbing cold to further his studies.


Talyara sometimes needed a reprieve--a reprieve from her sister's ridiculous requests for the sanctuary and the Adventurer's Guild, from the harsh blizzards that were far more constant in Frostmaw during the wintery months, from a rather nasty infected, wound she had to heal at the clinic in the fort. The witch discovered this structure some time ago and would squirrel herself upstairs on the balcony to get some peace and quiet, selfishly taking time to herself and practicing self care which she so often neglected. She was wrapped up in a fur-lined cloak, her hood pulled up to help keep out the chill as she perused the grimoire she had brought with her. After an hour of reading, the cold became too much for her and Taly was forced to abandon her post on the balcony, wincing as she stretched out her stiff limbs which had locked with the cold. After shaking out her legs and arms, the little witch takes up her book and booted feet echo on the stairs as she descends. She is moving towards the exit when she pulls up short, spying an unfamiliar face, screwed up in concentration as he focuses on his task. Taly didn't feel she could make it to the exit unannounced (her boots were pretty heavy, after all) but she didn't want to startle him out of his work. The witch opts to clear her throat politely in hopes that it suffices before she speaks. "Hi there! Sorry, to interrupt I'm just, uh, passing through."


Locke | In the wilds, Locke felt attuned to every nearby footstep. His half-elven ears perked at the sound of a snapping twig and his keen green eyes detected every rustling bush in his peripheral. Being consumed by his studies in a fascinating old structure, however, provided a far different story. He jumped and blinked upon the woman’s throat-clearing, but her politeness was helpful nevertheless. He might have scampered like a squirrel if she had gone about her greeting any louder or waited for her heavy boots to announce her presence. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all.” Locke’s eyes shimmered with curiosity. He set aside his sketchbook and tugged at the shoulder of his modest cape. A traveler had appeared, and that might have meant valuable knowledge. “If it isn’t too inconveniencing, would you mind staying for a moment and answering a couple of questions? It’s about these ruins.” He waved a hand past a nearby marble pillar and toward the cold stone walls beyond. “They’re fascinating, are they not? I’m trying my best to learn what I can from them but admittedly I am as yet largely unfamiliar with Lithrydelian history.” He spoke softly, but he also spoke rapidly. “I almost forgot! My name is Locke Abigail. And I’d be happy to offer a few silver for your time, even if you know little and less. It won’t be much, but, well, prancing about the countryside searching for answers hardly pays well.” He chuckled.


Talyara has the decency to look apologetic when Locke startles, her nose wrinkling slightly as she hugs the leather tome to her chest, her own doe-like emerald eyes looking down upon him when he speaks. His request for her to stay is met with a widening of her eyes in surprise, but a kind smile soon curves itself on her lips and she takes it as an invitation to approach. The witch shakes back her hood to reveal a mess of unruly curls which spill over her shoulders and makes to kneel before the stranger, placing her book on the ground beside her. "I'm not sure I'll have answers to the questions you have, but I'll do my best." The offer of some silver in exchange for her, most likely minimal, knowledge is met with a small laugh and a shake of her head. "No, no, please. That won't be necessary." She extends her hand out to the half elf should he wish to shake it upon their introductions. "My name is Taly, it's a pleasure to meet you, Locke." After their hands break had he accepted her own, she would rub hers together in an effort to bring some warmth back to them. "It's a bit cold though, isn't it?" Without waiting for a response, Taly's eye flutter closed and she mumbles some words under her breath. Suddenly a burst of azure flames dance from her palms as the witch holds them out between them as if this was a normal occurrence. It's wasn't as strong as a traditional fire in a hearth, but it succeeded in leeching some of the chill that hung between them. "Now, what did you want to ask?"


Locke gladly and humbly shook Talyara’s hand. It was always nice to find a friendly face, doubly so in a frigid and unforgiving place such as this one. She seemed a kind sort, as unflinchingly polite as he was, and that made him all the more glad to have been startled by her. “Terribly cold,” he replied to Talyara’s weatherly assessment grimly. That grimness vanished immediately when she brought forth the blue flames to warm them. “A sorceress!” he exclaimed with the pitch and lyric tenor of a lad even younger than his fresh face already portrayed. “Perhaps I should shelve this fancy with these ruins and ask you about yourself instead.” His chuckle returned, hale and hearty for a man of his borderline-small stature. “Ah, but I shouldn’t press you overmuch, and only after we’ve just introduced ourselves at that.” Reaching down to retrieve his sketchbook, Locke showed Talyara the fruit of his labor. It was clearly an unrefined attempt, and numerous times a line began to be drawn only to be scribbled out amateurly, but it did a passable enough job capturing the basic outline of the nearby sigil. The sigil was red slashed with silver, both colors faded with the passage of time, and it was slightly warmer to the touch than anything else here. “I believe it to be of magical origin,” the half-elf declared as a matter of casual fact. “Which leads me to wonder if it was brought here from elsewhere or if it is a sign that whomever constructed this large structure hailed from a magical race themselves.” He suddenly seemed flushed, as if embarrassed by what he was about to say. “Speaking as a half-elf, and a rather talentless one at that, my personal experience with magics of any kind is… limited. But you appear to be full-elven. Perhaps I am mistaken? Either through elven blood or sorceress’ ways, do you sense anything of this place that shines a light on its people?” Locke went wide-eyed with boyish wonder.


Talyara 's cheeks flush as Locke proclaims her a sorceress, the witch nipping at her bottom lip in a shy manner. She never made a show of hiding her magical abilities, but she was also guilty of forgetting that not everyone possessed the same skills she had. She is a humble woman and simply dips her chin in agreement. "Well, technically I'm a witch," she confesses with a slight shrug of her left shoulder. Taly shifts from her kneeling position to sit flat on the ground, crossing her legs to rest more comfortably as she leans in to examine Locke's sketchpad. She considers his drawing for a brief moment before casting her gaze around the main hall once more as she ponders his question. "Well, to be fair, I thought I was a half-elf most of my life. I only found out I was fully elven fairly recently. As for the sigil..." Taly thinks on it for a moment. "I am in full agreement that these are magical. I can -feel- the essence of it lingering here," she confesses shyly. "But I'm afraid I don't know the origin of it or the people who put it there. Perhaps it is for protection? My mother branded my sister and I with runes when were babies to not only act as a form of protection but so that we can also sense one another when we are nearby. It acts acts as a bond between the two of us." Taly tips her left hand so that the entirety of the flames dance in her right palm. In a moment of boldness, the witch places her warmed left hand on Locke's shoulder in chaste affection. "Hey, I hardly believe you are talentless. Don't be so hard on yourself. You seem to have a thirst for knowledge, that is a wonderful and admirable skill to have."


Locke was already intrigued at the proposed distinction between sorceresses and witches. He supposed, in hindsight, he knew there had to be a difference, but his experiences with either party had been limited to the Confederation and the Demon Archipelago, respectively, and in any case there seemed an ample sort of good ones and an ample sort of bad ones for both parties. A sorceress had once conjured a magical horse to aid Locke in his journey, and another had threatened to burn a companion of his alive just for looking at her. Likewise, a witch in the Archipelago had healed his swollen arms after a nasty run-in with a poisonous breed of vine, but he was keenly aware that a coven of witches not ten kilometers wayward routinely sacrificed the elderly and the infirm to rejuvenate their powers. People were people, Locke had reckoned, and it was up to each and every one of them to make the executive decision to be the goodly variety. His smile broadened as Talyara provided plenty and more insight to his queries. He dared not speak out-of-turn, not just for kindness’ sake but for fear that he’d lose track of her findings. Occasionally he tapped the pillar with his fingertips, humming along as he followed Talyara’s deductions and stared into the sigil meaningfully. The witch’s warmth was as reassuring as it was unexpected; Locke could only grin from ear to half-elven ear at her amiable aid. “I say without exaggeration that your wisdom today is without value.” He paused, realizing the error of his speech. “Uh, that is to say, it is invaluable.” Language was a fickle beast sometimes. “Protection. It is so simple a concept yet it would have eluded me for days, perhaps weeks, to come. A protective ward.” So engrossed, Locke almost forgot to acknowledge Talyara’s other, more personal statement. “And thank you very much for saying so. I suppose I have my uses.” There went that chuckle again.


Talyara :: In these trying times, one could say it was awfully stupid of Talyara to admit that she was a witch to a perfect stranger, even someone as kind and seemingly innocent as Locke. What with Cramer and his hoard of witch hunters seeking them out and spreading inflammatory information about them being the cause of all misdeeds in the lands, she and the others were prime targets for violence. However, Taly erred on the side of optimism--it was important for her to be truthful about her craft, for who could ever accuse Talyara, with her kind smile and healing hands, of bringing harm and despair to other people? And in turn, maybe her sweetness would remind them that while there were malicious people from all walks of life, witches included, it didn't mean they all were. It would be unfair to lump them all together and label them as dangerous when only a few could be considered such. Either way, Taly is relieved that Locke doesn't seem the sort to think she is evil so she is happy to sit in his presence and carry on their conversation. His comment about her wisdom being without value is met with a curious smirk and quirk of her brow. She needn't ask him to clarify, however, for Locke is already backtracking on his words and she laughs amiably so he knows she hasn't taken offense to his speech. "I cannot say for certain it is a protection ward, but that would be my intuitive suggestion. It's not uncommon to place them around a home or structure. If this place held importance to someone or someones..." Taly trails off with another shrug of her shoulders. It was her best guess, anyway.


Locke was a greenhorn in all matters Lithrydelian. Some could argue that after just a few weeks in this land he ought to have known about Cramer and his vile tendencies, but thus far the only evil he’d heard men tell tale over was a bloke named Kahran, and even then he was completely hazy on the details. He much preferred times like these, where he could lose himself in myths and legends of bygone times, or learn more about a contemporary culture through making acquaintances with an interesting and benevolent person. Simple times, even if they happened to be cold ones. “You’ve been immensely helpful, and it would be my honor to meet with you again,” Locke spoke up. “I have made friends with a dragon, Scandal, as well as another elf, Alariel. A cleric of sorts named Penelope Halifax, too.” He scrunched up his nose and put a finger to his chin briefly, trying to remember if there were any other names to cite. There were those strange women who promised to find out more about an orb he’d unearthed, but he hadn’t seen them since. There was Yerrel, a kindly healer, but he was Penelope’s tutor and Locke had hardly met him at all as yet. Content that he’d listed everyone worth listing, he extended his hand for another shake -- careful not to extend it into a rolling azure flame, of course. “And now I will add the witch, Talyara, to this list.”


Talyara 's expression seems to brighten as Locke mentions befriending a dragon named Scandal and she smiles genuinely. "I only know of one name that you speak of, Scandal." Taly's eyes twinkle as she adds, "he is my brother. Adopted, of course, but he was out of sorts when he first came here and my sister and I took him under our metaphorical wings. I'm happy to hear he was nice to you otherwise I'd have to scold him," she teases with a chuckle. Taly was very much the baby of her siblings, but that didn't mean she just allowed them to boss her around (who was she kidding, Lanara was -totally- the boss of the three of them). The witch tips the flames back into her left palm to accept the handshake and she dips her head in a slight bow. "I was my honor to meet you, Locke, and I hope our paths cross again soon." Taly hoists herself up to a standing position once more and groans as her joints protest the sudden movement in the cold. "And if you ever find yourself in Frostmaw, especially near a peculiar garden near the fort, just head north and you'll find a small cottage. That's where I live." As she leans down to scoop up her book, she suddenly shifts, with surprising speed, and instead takes Locke's hand in her own before transferring the flames to his palm. If he held fast in her loose grip and accepted them, he would find no burns but rather a tickling heat. With her blue fire gone from her clutches, she releases him in favor of reaching down to grab her grimoire before shooting a wink the half elf's way. "Just shake your hands out when you want to extinguish them." With a wiggle of her fingers and a departing smile, Taly turns on her heel and heads south towards the exit.