RP:A Meeting of the Forsaken

Summary: Two strangers suffering the same fate meet.

Tangle of Bushes

(Frond and groping tendrils surround you on all side, some thorned, others crawling with strange insects. Ants march along in rows beneath you, narrowly avoiding your feet. They seem to have no problem navigating this groping path, as they can simply stride under. You laugh to yourself, judging the length of time it must take the little creatures to reach their destinations, obstructions or no. A safe haven from the entangling bushes lies in all directions.)

The northern part of Sage Forest as of late had been a chilly one, despite the fact summer was still about, even if it was winding down and autumn was taking hold. The cold that had enshrouded this small section of the forest wasn't anything normal. It was ethereal, and magical, and felt like death itself. In the epicenter of it all sat Jhaelyn. The blonde was sitting lazily against a tree, her legs splayed apart as if she were some doll, though a somewhat scantily clad one at that. It would appear at one point that she wore a full set of armor, but it has now broken and chipped away, the bitter cold that surrounds the former high elf having made it brittle. There was enough to properly cover things, however, and the death knight's ice magic taking care of the rest and keeping the metal bits together like glue. Her sword laid on the ground next to her, her attention on the object in her hand. Said object was, in fact, a tiny ice carving in the shape of an elf girl, perhaps even herself and she dwelled on it's likeness; nothing else mattered at that point.

Revan lingers just a few feet from the resting knight, red cloud-like eyes swirl in a vortex as he examines her from top to bottom whil his form manifests into reality. This part of the forest suffering from a hard silence like a plague among the living due to the off temperature that forces out all natural inhabitants but despite it's eerie quiet it isn't clear how long the undead man watches Jhaelyn as he gives no hint to his presence, most mortals would feel the cold that accompanies his arrival but it seems this one already has that part covered. Without a word, the undead begins his approach, his soggy rotting flesh flaking like dandruff from his body with a mystic shimmer as it is replaced by a new suit of skin that resembles the elves own with it's whitish blue tone , those swirling red eyes flickering to a shade of deep dark blue along with similarly colored hair. By the time she spots the newcomer Jhaelyn would find a human who bears a blight much like her own, his voice youthful and kind; "I felt the air change." He explains while letting his eyes fall to the figurine in her hand, "Are you alone?"

Jhaelyn had felt his approach as she always had with her fellow undead, the pull towards them stronger than mere magic users or even regular mortals in general thanks to her necromantic abilities. Her attention drifts away from the small ice sculpture and up to him, confusion setting in on her features as she realizes that he doesn't look at all like the rest of the undead she'd met. Illusion magic was mostly a foreign thing to her. She'd known of it in her days amongst the living, but it wasn't something that'd occur to her now. With his question posed, his line of sight is followed back to the object in her palm, and a frown lines her lips. The bit of ice is soon crushed within her fist, naught but snow remaining once the deed is done. "Always."

Revan watches with his enchanting gaze as the woman crushes the figure into dust causing his head to tilt to the right as curiosity peaks. "You're not alone now", he says while his right hand raises and a slender index finger extends, small colorful sparks of mana escape from the pours on his arm and climb their way up to collect into a mass on his fingertip before leaping across the gap between the two making their way to the mess of snow in her hand where they dance back and forth like tiny little fireflies creating a perfect reconstruction of the figure in her grasp. His eyes move from the figure back to her once more and he asks in a very soothing tone, "What is your name?"

The undead elf blinks a few times as the figure is reformed by the fireflies, blonde brows furrowing together at the magic unfolding before her. Warily, she eyes the object in her hand, then shifts her attention back to him. "Jhaelyn." She pushes herself up off the ground, figurine in one hand, the remains of her sword in the other as it's pulled up from the frosty bits of grass near where the elf had sat. "Who are you?" Her voice was just as ethereal as she was, as it left her mouth, undeath mixing with that lilt that all elves had. She didn't adopt any sort of defensive stance just yet, but her hand was ever tightening on the hilt of her weapon. It wasn't fear that drove her, though, just merely the warrior within ever ready to strike if need be.

Revan lowers his hand back by his side as the elf lifts herself from the ground with a display of unspoken grace, the blue haired human staring at her with a unfaltering gaze that feels daunting though it lacks all signs of aggression. Her stationary position becomes countered by a slow and steady advance from the man whose legs have dissolved into a spectral mist, swirled and sweeping out as it grows closer to the frosted forest floor. The approach suddenly halted when the couple stand no more than a foot from one another, the blank expression on the man's face failing to portrait the great thought and caution that precedes the pronouncing of his proper name, "Revan."

Now that she was standing, and he was so much closer, he'd be able to note that she was much taller than most elves. Standing at five foot eleven inches, Jhaelyn would likely be quite the imposing being if it weren't for the fact that she was built like every other of her kind; beneath the ice and broken bits of armor, she was a slender creature and it was a wonder that she was even able to wield that greatsword of hers in it's prime. "Revan." His name was repeated, electric blue optics scanning over his form before finally fixating on his face again. "You shouldn't be here." A warning, though not threateningly. It almost seems as though she might be concerned for his safety.

Though the swirling eyes of the creature before her remain locked with her own, it is examining every single detail of her person including her armor, skin, sword and physique. Her words, un-taunting but firm, cause him to simply shift his focus from her right eye to the left, a short moment of silence separating their voices before he speaks, "Nor should you. We do not belong here."

"I don't belong anywhere." The sword hangs loosely at her side, the tip of the blade digging into the ground. The hand with the figurine outstretches towards him, offering him the trinket as some sort of strange gift. "It's dangerous here. For you. For everyone else. When I say you shouldn't be here...I mean you shouldn't be here -with me-." She lets her words linger, her line of sight not broken from him.

Revan finally breaks his stare to look upon the offered gift with slight hesitation before raising his hand to take it, though instead of pulling it into his grasp he lays the small figure on it's side and puts his open palm over Jhaelyn's own with only the gift separating their touch. His gaze shifts back to her and the unspoken silence speaks volumes more than words possibly could, Revan wasn't leaving.

Jhaelyn stared down at their almost joined hands. Her fingers twitched with anticipation, that fight or flight response in her fractured mind setting off like an alarm. She'd been in an introspective mood today, and this only made things worsen. "No." Her hand jerks away, leaving his hand to hover and the gift to fall to the ground as she takes a few steps away from him. "G-go away." There was fear now, but it wasn't for herself. It was for him. As her mood took a turn, snow began to fall, softly coating the ground around them.

Revan is un-phased as Jhaelyn jerks away to make her retreat much like a frightened child, nor is the gift that is left hovering right where it had always been as tendrils hold it in suspended animation. This reaction was no different from all the others and though her fear may or may not be justified the undead does not falter in his levitating stare, the snow falling softly onto his figure as he remains vigilant.

"Why do you persist? Why will you not listen? Can you not see what is happening with every agitation of my mind?" Her words spilled out of her mouth quickly, panic in her tone. She turned to see that the figure was still hovering there, suspended by his magic. "Things will become worse very soon." Jhaelyn retraced her steps, staring at him pleadingly, blonde locks trailing into her face, "Please go. I don't want to hurt you. You're not the one I'm supposed to kill." The undead elf didn't dare touch the gift now, but her hand did move to almost grab his shoulder, as if to shake him and get some sense into his head.

Revan remains stoic and arrogant in his absolute defiance of the woman's every wish, those deep blue eyes constantly swirling into the void of his pupil while her plea seemingly falls upon deaf ears. It is only when her hand is raised that he moves, his left hand coming to life to gently presses his wrist against her own raised one in order to make room so that he may move to push the blond locks out of her face with a frozen index finger, "Do what you must."

Jhaelyn's face contorts into a look of irritation as her hand does touch his shoulder, his own moving the hair from her face. Out of frustration, she only gives him a shove though before taking a step back again. "Who -are- you? Revan? That tells me nothing." Another sigh. "What do you want, -Revan-? What do you want from -me-?

Revan's left side staggers by the shove but quickly regains it's composure with the aid of his levitation and his hand retreats from it's connection with Jhaelyn to find a new home grasping the gift in a cupped fashion with the other. The snow gathering on his shoulders and in his mess of blue hair give the creature a sort of beauty that is either enchating or haunting but never both. "What makes you think I want something?" he asks with a slightly tilted head, his voice alive with innocent curiosity.

"Everyone wants something." She glances at the gift as he held it, tilting her head then to look at him. Her emotions were like rapidfire, shifting back and forth between anger and sadness. She closed the gap between them again, her actions like that of a cat, either stalking her prey or warming up to them. With the way her head was, she wasn't even sure what she was doing. The undead female was so close to him now, nose to nose with him, "So what is it? What do you want?" Her tone of voice was calm, despite the chaos her mind was in.

Revan watches her approach and straightens his neck back to it's proper position and while Jhaelyn showed a range of emotions, Revan showed none. The woman closed the gap between them close enough to make most feel discomfort or butterflies but the man felt neither as he stared deep into her eyes now, staring right through her to peer into her soul as the swirling of his iris' becomes mesmerizing. "What is it you're looking for, Jhaelyn?", his voice is heard not by her ears but in her mind as Revan's lips remain together while a telepathic connection is brought to life between the two.

Discord was ever rampant in the broken female, but now as the question was reflected back to her, she seemed to calm, if only for the moment. She mirrored his stare, thinking on his words. What did she want? She watched those swirling irises of his, her own aglow with the frost and death magics that coursed through her frigid veins. "Clarity. A purpose." was echoed silently in her mind. She thought about Aarika and her band of mercenaries that she just joined. So far, it hadn't proved to be what she wanted, but also, the contracts that were available was in that place she'd dare not go: Frostmaw. Just as he had with her, she moves to touch those blue locks that hung from his head; an idle, distracted movement if nothing else. "I know what's expected of me, and part of me hungers for vengeance, but I don't know if I should. You are dead too...I can sense it, though there is something more about you. Have you felt this too? This hunger, it's different than the one that demands for the flesh of the living, though that is there too. There's a voice. So dark. It calls to me. It craves for death. Tells me to take my revenge. I dare not speak his name." Why did she feel the need to tell him this? Perhaps she'd hoped she'd found a kindred spirit of sorts? Someone that -might- understand?

Revan does not flinch at her touch, the cold feeling of his skin as she brushes away the hair unlikely to phase one who shares a similar burden. Her words are heard and mentally examined with great interest to the point of it becoming unclear if the man plans to reply to her explanation, yet just as she would grow tired of the silence Revan's voice reaches out into her mind once more. "A purpose cannot be given, you must find that yourself, but if it is clarity you seek, then I will show you." Those swirling blue eyes of his spark to life with mana exploding from their core, the entire hue shifting to a heavy blood red, large tendrils expanding from the undead's back to encapsulate the two of them in their own personal black hole. The dark space around them erupts with life and fills the void with countless images of people from all walks of life in various situation. Some of them are laughing, some are chatting, some are enjoying tea, getting married, having children... but others are crying, others are covered in blood, others are tightening a noose around their necks, cheating on their spouses, beating their slaves, burning lesser men... the atrocities of the entire realm merged flawlessly with the happy memories of those Jhaelyn has never met - their entire lives playing out before her very eyes. Revan is still looking at the woman with his now crimson eyes, the mental link between them still very active as he raises his right hand to grab one of the images and pull it closer to them, it expands to cover the rest as he does. What is shown is another undead much like the high elf but instead of just seeing the image before her, Jhaelyn would be able to -feel- it, the anger - hatred - confusion and pain that the creature feels - trapped, tortured every waking minute of every day wondering what the hell they did to deserve such an morbid and obscene form of existence. "You are not the first to endure the suffering of a lost soul and you will not be the last. Revenge often seems like the answer to the pain but I'm afraid all you'll find is a crushed hope of release once your goal is achieved. The gods frown upon us Jhaelyn. They've denied us the one right of all mortals, the ability to pass into the afterlife and cross the gap to our personal heaven or hell. Instead, they've chosen not to bless or damn us but to completely ignore our existence and force us to face the trials of a second life that none should ever be forced to endure. That is, all but Vakmathras. The god of death does not call upon those who dedicate themselves to worthless definitions such as good or evil, he calls upon those who can aid in bringing balance to the world but ensuring that no creature suffers the plague of an eternal life." Revan pushes the image back causing the others to reappear and then pulls up a few select visuals consisting of a woman saving a man from a bandit, an ogre pillaging a village while burning the homes of it's inhabitants, a cannibal feasting upon the fresh remains of a newborn child, a religious man donating a large sum to his church, a paladin striking down a demon spawn in protection of an entire city and a death knight ending that same paladin mere months later. "None of the things you see are good or evil, this entire existence consists of varying shades of gray. Without one, the other could not exist. But sadly, a world with all of them is destined for disorder, chaos... and abominations like ourselves." Revan dismisses all of the images with a wave of his hand and his legs reform themselves in the darkness as he takes the elf by the hand and presses it against her own cheek. "You're right that everyone wants something - I want you to free yourself from the chains that bind you to these ridiculous principles and calls of vengeance. The world has wronged you, the -gods- have wronged you... but that does not mean you must suffer for their sins. Be free of your own torment, Jhaelyn. Recover the freedom of your own will and only then will you find what you are looking for... your purpose." The veil of darkness surrounding the duo begins to lift as the tendrils peel apart from one another and retract back into Revan's back, the figure before her shimmering before fading into obscurity. But the man did not leave without proof of his appearance, for in the death knights cupped hand that rests upon her cheek she would find a single red rose.

The undead elf watches as she's shown the various images, her fractured mind doing what it could to comprehend what was going on. It's not that she was a stupid woman; such a thing happens when your thoughts and memories weren't exactly put back together properly upon being brought back from the dead. She listens to him speak, bright optics scanning over the things being projected at her, though her attention is quickly grabbed by the scenes of the paladin and death knight. For a moment, those feelings that he implanted into her mind, the ones that the other undead felt, were her own as she stared at the two. But then it was gone, and the illusionist finished speaking. His preaching of being firmly planted on neutral ground spoke to her, and that was plantly written on her face. Then...he was gone...and she was left holding that rose. Oh that inner reflection that had overcome her in her solitude returned again. Her cold, dead hand lowered so that she might study the solitary flower, her fingertips curling about the stem. "Revan." was said aloud again, this time with conviction and maybe even a hint of hope. She'd commit the name and everything else she'd learned about the man in such a short time to memory, to that fractured thing that was her mind. It wasn't something she'd forget any time soon. Once she was sure she was alone, a single shard of ice would be conjured up. The jagged weapon was then plunged into the skin of her left forearm, carving the name of the illusionist into her appendage. No, she definitely wasn't going to forget. Not now. Not ever.