RP:A Ranger's Return, A Bet or Two Lost
Unlike most drow houses in the city of Trist'Oth, House Stavret is not beautiful to look upon, nor is it framed in the faerie fire so many use to proclaim the skill of their mages. Its beauty and grace comes from a sense of lurking menace; the almost tangible essence of hidden malice that flows from the sharp spires of the stalagmites that've been moulded into the large halls of the drow's home. Many dark-elves move around the grounds, though very few of them are visible even to drow eyes. It is protected from the horrors of the Underdark by a pair of large and finely crafted adamantite gates. Behind them is a path which winds through the grounds occupied by House Stavret and enters into the throne room where the Patron's grotesque throne sits. It is carved from a single piece of obsidian; its edges are twisted and grate upon the senses of any who are not steeped in malice. And from it the Patron of House Stavret rules this home, protecting both it and Trist'oth from the many, many dangers that are always close here in the Underdark. If you come uninvited, now would be the time to leave.
House Stavret are busy dealing with some vermin. A group of giant spiders have scuttled up from the tunnel depths and are threatening to venture into the city proper - but this is little more than daily work for the highly-skilled warriors that guard both the Fifth House, and all those beyond them, too. Drow already on the ground slink unseen in the darkness like living shadow, hard targets for the spiders as they move with effortless grace from cover to cover, then rush and unleash blinding attacks that take out legs, eyes, and crush through chitin to turn the softened flesh beneath to mulch. Blue-tinged haemolymph pools on the cavern floor and the normally-quiet air is rent with noise, black silence penetrated by the screech and battle cry of spider and drow alike. Many spiders die and a few drow go with them; fools who dropped their guard for even half a second and are swiftly preyed upon by the massive arachnids. Kirien, safely wrapped in his enchanted cloak and enveloped in his disguise, does his part from the top of the adamantite gate, which is shut tight, impenetrable. He’s observing the battle unfold before him, flipping a small pebble and catching it, over and over. He watches a drow slip in spider blood and become vulnerable - the empath quickly draws back his arm before snapping it forward, hurling the pebble headlong at the beast bearing down on the man. It might seem a useless endeavour but to a terramancer, even the smallest scrap of earth or rock can be utilised as a weapon. Mid-flight, the pebble lengthens into a fine needle so that when it strikes, the contact is deadly, the stone piercing straight through the spider’s brain. After that it doesn’t take them long to finish off the stragglers before traipsing back to the House, the gates part with a sombre groan as though mourning those lost. Kirien remains atop the gate even as it opens, his blind eyes still sweeping the cavern, watching.
Vielyn had been watching the battle, feeling a bit of pride in the strength of his House. As the gates open the Patron's younger brother slips in with the other guards his hood pulled up and face hidden. The ranger sticks out only due to his size, all the normal soldiers and members of his house were large, taller than average for the Drow race, Vielyn was, however of normal height and build. As he enters the courtyard he is stopped and one of the drow soldiers stop him, "Who are you?" the commoner commands. "That shall only be revealed to the Patron." comments the First Ranger of House Stavret, keeping his calm, another difference between himself and his family.
Kirien is an incredibly attentive being despite his lack of regular sight, possessing various forms of ‘vision’ that rely on factors other than light, and each focus on a specific element or structure. He’s not preoccupied enough -not- to notice the unfamiliar presence amidst the warriors, each of whom the empath recognises based on their general ‘feel’, their emotional reading, and their body shape, heartbeat, and muscle mass. After months spent around the same people, he’s come to know each well enough - their general demeanour, what makes them tick, and even a couple of secrets. Noticing that the stranger has been noticed and swiftly accosted by some soldiers, Kirien turns sharply from the outside world and makes his way down into the courtyard, the sharp ring of metal on metal sounding as he skims the fortified staircase leading up onto the walkways. A graceful hop and he lands on solid ground, striding across the compound and shoving his way past the soldiers. He’d not survive here were he a pushover. “Put that away,” he hisses at one drow who’s already unsheathed a dagger and is glaring at the smaller newcomer - the empath’s gaze then comes to rest on the First Ranger himself, though this can only be assumed by the tilt of his head, as his face is concealed from view. He’s small, too, a good head (and a half, sometimes) shorter than the warriors, with a slighter build. He snaps in fluent drowic, “The Patron’s off on business. Who are you?” Kirien won’t tolerate spies in this House, not now, not when it’s become his second Home. “You don’t just walk in here. Explain yourself.”
Vielyn lifts his gaze to the terramancer, "I will know to whom I am speaking." the Ranger says softly, yet his voice still manages to carry through the courtyard where many common soldiers had stopped to listen in. The ranger's green eyes regard the mage when they are revealed. "His eyes,” come a whisper. from the crowd, "Could it be?" Another voice whispers out “Vielyn" at the name a number of warriors shift back, for if it is the patrons they didn’t want to stand too near the powerful drow. Vielyn's thoughts remain shielded as he did while in the wilds and when dealing with Mind Flayers, a technique he had to master to survive, though lowered since he first walked in, the ranger is calm, no hint of rage, annoyance, or even pride.
Kirien’s eyes narrow a touch. He turns his head and is relieved to find Marlise standing nearby, the guard having been one of those dispatched to deal with the vermin problem. A subtle nudge to the ribs has his taller friend blinking down at him, his mouth then forming a silent ‘oh’ of realisation. “His eyes are green,” Marlise mutters and, unseen beneath the cover of his hood, the genasi’s eyebrows raise slightly. He turns back to Vielyn. “Sidhion,” he introduces himself to the green-eyed stranger. “Mage of the House. The only one, it seems.” Their head mage appears to have vanished without a trace, and Kirien has not seen hide nor hair of him in a long time. He lifts a gloved hand almost as if to shake Vielyn’s, but instead those extended fingers move to touch his own chest in an absent gesture. “I’m what you could call a caretaker, while our Patron is absent. Someone’s got to keep this bunch of meatheads in line.” The crowd around him bristles a touch but he only smiles; and this time the expression is almost seen, but not quite. Rather, it’s felt, the essence of a feral grin emanating from the empath to touch all those nearby. Then he waves a hand at them all, prompting another series of backsteps and hushed words, these ones not of awe but of irritation. “Get back to your posts. And you...” His focus has settled on Vielyn again. “I’ll only ask once more. Who are you?”
Vielyn blinks once in surprise, but then the feeling is gone as soon as it rose, "My name is Vielyn Stavret." he says in his soft voice the soldiers have returned to their posts, "House Ranger, commander of the scouts and such, and brother of Kuzial Stavret." The ranger's announcement causes a few of the elder drow standing nearby to nod satisfied that they were right, gold even changes hands as some of the elders had thought the young drow dead in the wilds. "Forgive me," he says bowing to the mage, "I did not know you were the one in command at the moment."
That sensation of a smile falters when Vielyn gives his name, and for just a moment Kirien too is openly stunned and at a loss for words. It’s quickly reined in, the empath’s invisible touch snapping back beneath the surface of his skin. He composes himself, clears his throat, and almost loses that crafted image all over again when the drow bows. “...Well,” he manages, sounding slightly breathless, “brothers could not be more different.” A laugh escapes him and he really sounds a little giddy when he speaks again, motioning to the elaborate black doors towering off to their left; the entranceway to a great stalagmite that rises high into the air like some wicked subterranean skyscraper. “Shall we? There’s more privacy inside...and food.” He gives the man a once-over, both intrigued and bemused by this curious individual. Vorx really got up to a lot before that...unfortunate state of affairs. He briefly considers questioning Kuzial about this before shaking his head - family’s not something he’s ever been particularly good at discussing. With a wave of his hand to Vielyn, Kirien starts off at a casual pace for those doors and the long hall that lies beyond them, where the walls are bristling with weapons and trophies of war, and a second set of doors opens into the Patron’s throne room.
Vielyn smiles slightly but quickly covers it up. With a nod the ranger walks into the house, just a half step behind the mage, his gait more akin to a hunting predator than the battle grace the normal warriors possessed. Upon entering the throne room he stops, "So I assume my brother never mentioned me." he guesses, going off of the mage's behavior. His eyes flit from wall to wall eventually landing on the stone throne, for a second he sees his father sitting in it, then his brother, before being empty, "I have been gone too long."
Kirien no longer needs to take a deep breath for courage before stepping into the throne room. The malicious atmosphere and the throne itself have little effect on the genasi these days, though the whispers still flit at the edges of his perceptions; a subtle sensational reminder that this place has seen a thousand years or more of horror. “He’s not one to talk about family. I only found about his half-sister after I’d killed her,” he admits to the drow in a lilting, amused voice, stepping forward to run a fingertip along the length of a jagged obsidian shard sticking out of the throne’s backrest. “Apologies for not recognising you, Vielyn Stavret. You really have been gone a while if I haven’t met you before.” Leaning his side against the throne, Kirien lifts his gaze to regard the other, and the curiosity that goes unnoticed in his eyes manages to carry through to his tone. “Where -have- you been, exactly? Seems a good portion of the House gave you up for dead some time ago, if the bets were anything to go by.”
Vielyn nods, "That does sound like our Patron." he admits. The younger Stavret moves to a wall and leans against it, though he was home he seemed awkward, more comfortable out in the wilds than here in a mortal made structure, "I have been in the wilds for some time," he explains "when Kuzial overthrew Vorx and took his place then proceeded to move against a ruling House I was followed into the wilds by assassin's of the target house. They thought to dispatch me in the wilds and no one would know. Yet they underestimated me, I am the best ranger and at surviving the wilds over any in this house, the house which deals specifically with the wilds. So I led them on a nice little trail, through mindflayer and duergar territories, into traps and once even brought down a ceiling on some. Some died, other enslaved, I recently finished off the last by feeding him to a kraken. I assumed it would be prudent to return and see whether my house still existed or not." throughout his tale the drow remains impassive, as if he were just stating facts, not trying to deliver a story, only once does a hint of pride slip into his voice and demeanor, only to be brushed away.
Kirien’s laugh is a touch more affectionate than it maybe should be when he speaks of Kuzial, but aside from that he’s doing a good job of keeping up the act. “I suppose it’s no wonder he didn’t want to admit to his father’s...tastes, and the half-breeds that came of it.” Then he pauses, remembering the First Ranger’s odd eye colouration and the usual stigma associated with that, and he winces. Luckily he’s able to brush that particular topic under the rug when Vielyn begins to tell his story, and the empath makes himself comfortable on an arm of the throne, leaning his chin against a protruding chunk of obsidian on the backrest as he listens intently to the tale. “You’ve had quite a time of it!” The exclamation contains a hint of respect, however, for the various trials the drow endured to shake the assassins off his tail. “Mind flayers, though...” A shudder, near-imperceptible, passes the length of Kirien’s spine. “Getting away from them alive is quite a feat. The House has done well since the end of your father’s reign, as far as I’m aware - there have been spies, plots, the usual. But those who choose to plot against Kuzial will know how foolish they really are, in the end. That is a certainty.” Throughout this, his blind eyes remain fixed on Vielyn, quietly appraising him, inch by inch.
Vielyn keeps his eyes locked with the blind terramancer, still not aware of his inability to see, "Agreed, our father had odd tastes." The ranger admits, "Why he would disgrace the House by fathering half breeds is a mystery." The ranger accepts Sidhion’s respect with silence, inclining his head in thanks. "It shall be so," he agrees to the final statement, "and I vow my part in keeping my brother on this throne." His words ring with sincerity for the ranger truly has no desire to see anyone else, even himself in the seat of Patron.
Kirien makes a sound of vague agreement and waves a hand. “The allure of exotic pleasures, perhaps. I suppose we won’t be getting any answers now.” He snorts at the idea, recalling vividly the echoing, tormented screams of Vorx that emanated from the soulstone around Kuzial’s neck. There is something rather amusing about the Patron’s own choice of partner after discovering his father’s curious tastes, at least - Kirien smothers a grin and makes a mental note never to compare the two, else he’ll end up single again, and probably dead, too. There’s a warmth in his chest all the same. In the meantime, Vielyn gets another long, calculating looks as he makes his vows, promising to do his part in keeping Kuzial in power. Kirien smiles - again, it goes unseen. “That’s good. Else I might have to kill you, hm?” The smooth, saccharine tones of his voice contrast harshly with the grave intent of those words, and all of a sudden it’s made very clear that he is anything but harmless, capable of murderous tendencies just like the rest of them. He’ll take out whatever threatens Kuzial’s rule, be it bitch, brother, or vicious scheming bastard.
A cough from the door and Kirien’s head turns sharply, blind eyes falling on the figure of a House slave. “Was wonderin’ if the First Ranger was hungry,” the common drow utters, and the empath sniffs at him before looking back to Vielyn. He’s expectant, waiting for the man to answer, and it shows in his posture.
Vielyn simply quirks an eyebrow at the terramancer, yes he respected the mage already, "So we are allies in keeping my brother on the throne." he comments, his gaze sweeping over the male and his thoughts straying for a minute before catching himself and with a shake of his head. His gaze flicks to the commoner, "I am." he states simply, his voice still soft. After the slave's departure he turns his gaze back to Kirien, "Trust me Sidhion, if I were to become a threat to my brothers rule, I would trust you to remove the threat."
Kirien ignores the slave nod and vanish back out the door again. Once he’s gone, the empath rises to his feet in silence. Slow, purposeful steps carry him around the throne but he keeps his eyes always on Vielyn...and then he tilts his head back just a touch, enough for the hood to slip back and reveal a rare sight down here in the dark - the lower portion of his face. His grin is broad and bright, the curve of his jaw sharp and elegant, skin a deep, dusky black hue. There is little to suggest he is anything but drow, though paler skin hides out of view, beneath the obscuring ‘mask’ of rough obsidian. It is a well-crafted disguise until touch betrays its true nature. “Allies...yes, Vielyn, I suppose. We have the same interests in mind, and that would make us allies.” A pause follows, and he glances at the open doors as though considering something.
Vielyn pulls his hood back at this point, revealing his long white hair, pulled back into a ponytail, "Allies, usually the only thing worth anything in our society." he states calmly. He regards the expressions, on the other drows face, the wide grin seeming a bit out of place in a member of House Stavret, but Vielyn had been gone for quite some time...perhaps things had changed that much, he really doubted it. A quick sweep of the room follows, just so the House Ranger had an excuse to look somewhere else, staring too long could get you into trouble. "Would you happen to know if my chambers are unused?" he asks, more to move the conversation along than him actually caring.
Kirien’s laugh is a soft one, not wholly dark. “On the surface, maybe.” Whatever he means by that, the man leaves unsaid and does not seem to care to explain. He’s one for vague remarks, allusions and illusions, wrapped in varying layers of disguise and deceit. There are cracks here and there, of course - even stone is riddled with imperfections. But he holds it together well. “Your chambers...” His head tilts aside in a contemplative gesture and he frowns. “I’m not sure. I’ve certainly never entered them myself. Where are they in the compound?” The hall beyond the throne room is still empty and Kirien has wandered closer to Vielyn, close enough that he can snag his cloak and lean to whisper in a near-imperceptible tone, “As an ally, I feel I should warn you - the House is full of traitors playing games; idiots plotting against your brother. I’ve no doubt you’ll end up mixed up in it eventually, so do try not to get killed. Kuzial wishes them to be left to their own devices, for now.” For now. This said, he draws back.
Vielyn stiffens at the terramancer's close proximity, hands actually almost flinching to his weapons, he was far from used to people, especially this close. Sidhion's words makes him chuckle a bit, "That sounds like Drow politics." he says softer than he had been speaking previously, "My chambers are not far from my brother's, with the other noble quarters." he continues, his voice resuming it's previous volume, "They are a lot more bare, or were than the majority of other rooms in the House. Also back when, no one bothered listening in or spying on my room, they never learned anything worth anything."
Kirien is smart enough not to remain in a drow’s personal space for long. Mostly. He sniffs a touch, glancing across the room to a short, sparsely-decorated corridor branching down to the right; the blank walls where hidden doorways lie disguised by magical locks, giving way to the private quarters of House Stavret’s noble family. “Down there?” A hand lifts, points, before the empath clicks his fingers together and the throne room resounds with a sound so deep it cannot truly be heard by regular ears, a subsonic vibration cast out in an invisible, searching wave. It passes within these enchanted locking systems to give Kirien a brief glimpse of the multiple rooms lying beyond - Kuzial’s chambers, a familiar sight, and other rooms the genasi has never entered. The magic, ever the staunch protector of secrets within, makes it difficult to see much for long. Casting a look back at Vielyn, he moves down the hall and pauses before the hidden entrance to the First Ranger’s old sleeping quarters, lifting a hand to press against the stone. “This lock feels old,” he murmurs, voice taut with concentration. He lowers his hand. “It has not opened for anyone other than you...so I can assume it’s untouched within.” He steps back, allowing Vielyn room to speak the spell that would open the way, the same way all the other rooms in this hall are opened.
Vielyn moves to the door and gently brushes the door with his fingers, "This is it." he mutters, leaning down he speakse the phrase to grant him entry. The door swings open and the ranger steps into his quarters and glances around. The room holds only a simple desk, wardrobe, and bed. The only sense of luxury is two really soft and comfortable chairs sitting before a fireplace, a table sits between the two chairs, and the skin of some monstrous underdark creature serves as a rug. "Would you mind a seat?" the ranger offers, moving to the fireplace and speaking another command word, this one causing black flames to leap into existence, the fire casting no light but providing enough heat to warm the room.
Kirien, intrigued by this new place, follows the ranger inside. The room has not been opened in some time indeed and the frayed threads of memory still cling to it here and there, strung around like cobwebs, ghosts dust-coated and abandoned. Kirien does not intrude on privacy and leaves them be, taking up Vielyn on his offer with a nod. On his way to the hearth, however, he trips without warning as though catching his foot on an upturned edge of rug, though there is nothing but bare floor behind him. “...Ah. And we were doing so well,” the empath sighs with a disgruntled look down at his lower limbs. He’s forced to limp the rest of the way to the chair on legs that look increasingly wobbly and unstable. The slave appears in the doorway just as Kirien is lowering himself into the seat - he carries a platter upon which lie a variety of foods, a glass, and a bottle of drow wine. “Wasn’t sure what you wanted so...a selection,” he mutters hurriedly, before exiting just as swiftly. Kirien snorts and, although the genasi does not know it, the slave did make sure to add Vielyn’s favourite food to the plate, which suggests he may be more sure than he made out to be...or he chose that particular dish by chance. “So,” Kirien begins with a blink, “I’m told your eyes are actually green. Is that true?” Perhaps a risky topic, but he’s curious.
Vielyn goes to assist the empath at his stumbling steps, he still offers him arm to the terramancer, an actual show of kindness, not just being polite. At the foods entrance the ranger gives a nod towards the slave and moves to test the food, smelling the wine and food, to see if any poisons were detectable. "They are," he answers, "There are many theories for it, it hampens some abilities but strengthens others." The House Ranger takes a couple tentative bites, savoring each bit, and tasting for toxins.
Kirien accepted the help without complaint, though his laugh is awkward and apologetic. He does not apologise outright for the stumble, but it’s there in the undertone when he speaks, his blind gaze dropping to absently scrutinise the platter. “Interesting.” With a failing sense of smell and awkward vision, he isn’t really sure of what has been laid out for the First Ranger, aside from a very obvious rack of braised ribs. He blinks and glances back up. “I assumed uncertain ancestry, sorry. But...what sorts of abilities? I’m curious, and I’ve not heard any stories of you - I don’t tend to listen to the warriors, and half the time they’re not even talking anyway. I’m certain some of them communicate through growling.” Snorting, the empath waves off the warriors’ brutish behaviour and turns his focus back to his legs, gloved hands slipping from the tops of his knees to run down his calves, inspecting or perhaps trying to fix whatever assumed problem led to his falling just a moment ago.
Vielyn shrugs his shoulders, "I would rather not discuss it..." he answers simply, a slight chuckle escapes him at the terramancer accurate description of the house warriors, "There might be stories about me." he muses, "Yet few know of my exploits, I spend to much time out in the wilds. The company of the stone and wild creatures is actually preferred when compared to the brutes that make up the majority of the Stavret ranks."
Kirien’s smart enough to drop the topic. “Maybe it’s more correct to say rumours, then, rather than stories. They sure like to bet on you, at least.” He -was- paying attention to the exchange of gold that occurred when the drow revealed his identity. Vulpine ears perk up slightly when Vielyn brings up his preference for company, and he can’t help a little grin at that. “Finally, someone with some sense.” His exploring fingers have paused at his ankles, the empath leaning over so as to reach, and he attempts to knock something back into place with a fist - it doesn’t work, apparently, and he very nearly kicks the platter off the table when his leg reacts to the blow by jerking upward in a sudden kick. Kirien snorts, then sighs and sinks back in the chair, admitting reluctant defeat. “I’m partial to stone. Biased, maybe,” he laughs. “Most would call me a terramancer but I prefer the term ‘Earthsinger’ - quite a separate thing, actually. It’s not a tool for me, it’s a part of me, and I’m...very much...a part of it.” Head tilting, he regards Vielyn sidelong, considering. “So I suppose I could say thank you.” For enjoying the company of stone, that is.
Kuzial shouted, "Take this, you eight legged bitch! You and your damned goddess!"
Kirien stills for a moment and cocks his head the other way, as though listening to something. He snorts a second time, amused.
Vielyn nods in agreement with the mage's words, at the reflexive kick his hand darts out, faster than majority of eyes could follow to block the leg. He smiles, "Dont thank me for the honest truth," he remarks, "an Earthsinger? Does that mean that you have the capability to do things with stone that eludes other Terramancers?" he asks, honestly curious, "Is your leg in pain?" slight concern in his voice, "If so maybe I can help."
Vielyn’s eyes dart around, "Brother?"
Kirien said softly, “He is...near.” His eyes have dropped to the floor of the room, where they stare with unnerving intensity at the bare stone, unremarkable upon the surface, but deeper down...he can feel it; the telltale echoes of Kuzial’s presence, a figure he is so finely attuned to. “Below.” And different. Something has changed, and Kirien can only assume that the drow got his wish. He looks back up and withdraws the range of his focus, until all he can perceive around him is this room. A hand waves it off and he leans over to sniff at the wine, but does not appear interested in pouring himself a glass. “Perhaps less, perhaps more. What I feel the main difference is is -how- we use the earth. Mages, arcane magic-- it forces, makes the stone comply to the caster’s wish. I take a more...laid-back approach, and I work with it.” Kirien shrugs, blinks when Vielyn enquires about his leg, though he’s more interested in the evident concern than in the question itself. “Oh, yes-- it’s fine, really. I know it doesn’t look it, but it is. It just...acts up.” Barely anyone knows of his curious affliction and Kirien is not sure he wants to confide in the ranger, the empath’s lips pressing together slightly. “I’m sick,” he says after a beat. “Sort of...an elemental thing. It’ll get better.”
Vielyn accepts the empath's explanation of his brother and the leg with a nod, his voice once more resuming it soft emotionless tone, mentally kicking himself for the brief concern. "If there is anything I can do to help, please do not hesitate to ask." he offers, trying cover it up with a hurried, "Only so it's not a hinderance to the. House." Hoping thats believable. "Are you saying that you can, in a way, speak with stone?" he questions, curious despite himself.
Kirien grins a grin that is probably more than a little unnerving for Vielyn, because it suggests that he -knows-. Again, only the lower half of his face is visible, disguised, and only briefly before the empath ducks his head back to his legs. “It’s fine, it’ll work out. Besides,” he says while pushing himself out of the chair, not quite able to smother the faintly smug edge in his voice, “it allows me to experiment when my limbs are so malleable.” All of a sudden he bobs up an inch or so, appearing to ‘hover’ just off the ground as his feet begin to shrink, curves smoothing into rigid angles - he changes from the knees downward until his legs and boots are little more than skinny limbs that taper into sharpened tips of adamantite, inhuman and alien but somehow strangely difficult to look away from...though perhaps this is less due to the shape of the legs, and more due to the fact that the transformation is so odd. Kirien spins once, showing off, now gliding easily where he was previously limping. “Controlling them isn’t so difficult like this. And yes, I can. It’s alive, and I can talk to it, and we actually have some rather interesting conversations. I see through the earth, too.”
Vielyn watches the transformation with no little amount of awe, and watches the graceful movements of the male, "That's interesting." He comments, though his tone says that he finds it astounding, "You speak to the stone, that would be useful in the wilds though might take a bit of the excitement out of it." he says, commenting on the thing that he was less amazed by, "I can only imagine what kind of things these spires can speak of." as he muses his thoughts meander to the things that have happened in this room and are wondering what the stones have told the terramancer, "You said you see as well, as in you can peer through the stones as if it were merely glass?"
Kirien, despite his claims of easier movement, still hasn’t got the sitting part down. When he tries to sit, he seems to slip and ends up flopping back in his chair a bit more forcefully than intended, the breath knocked from his lungs. Luckily, breathing is not a necessity. “Oh, a lot, believe me. But ahh, I have a couple of ways of seeing, and I tend to combine them for a better view. The world is pretty different without regular vision.” Although these days, Kirien has difficulty remembering what the world looks like to most other people. He shrugs, crossing one leg over the other. “‘As if through glass’...it’s a bit like that. I see the surface layer -- I can see this room in its entirety, even -- and then everything below that, as far down as I can make it. I can peel away layers and ignore them if I want to. Only in monochrome, though.”
Vielyn quirks an eyebrow, "Different without regular vision?" he asks, "What do you mean?" The ranger is interested in this ability, but more so the ability to speak to the stone, "I can see how with all of these abilities you are a major asset to the patron." A question crosses his mind but he decides to dismiss it, going with a different one, "If you can speak to the stone, does that mean you can ask them not to share their information with others?" The ranger is actually concerned, before now he didn't know it was possible, and there were some things he would prefer for none to have access to.
Kirien muses thoughtfully, slowly, for it is difficult for him to describe his way of perceiving the world to others, “Regular vision relies on light, doesn’t it? There’s no light in my world. I see with vibration, with movement and noise. Everything is black and white, and I can’t see anything off the ground - sky, clouds, stars...” He trails off for just a moment, staring at nothing in particular, and he almost seems a little lost. Then he grounds himself again with a flinch that draws his wandering mind out of memories. “Water, too, is impossible to see or into - if sky is blank white nothingness, then water is a black abyss. The world is sound and feeling, to me, not seeing as such.” A curious blink follows when Vielyn mentions the sharing of information, and Kirien withholds a grin. “Not many people can speak with them, so information will remain safe, mostly. I could allow them to speak with my voice but...” He shrugs. “Stone does not tend to give up its secrets easily, anyway. Even to me.”
Vielyn breathes a slight sigh of relief, "That makes me feel a bit better." he admits. Now that that is taken care of a look of confusion spreads across his face, "Stars? Sky? he asks, "Never actually seen either. Nor do I truly understand what they are. I prefer the security of stone over my head and have never ventured to the surface."
Kirien’s voice takes on a sly tone. “Don’t worry, your secrets are safe...with me.” He flashes another grin that is entirely teasing, because the empath has not yet spoken to the walls of this room beyond a subtle greeting, and he has not intruded on any lingering secrets of Vielyn’s. The drow earns himself a blank look at first, and then Kirien’s mouth drops open in an exclamation of ‘oh’. “I forget a lot of you have never been to the surface before. They’re actually quite...pretty. I remember, sort of. Someone showed me once, through his own eyes, up in Frostmaw where the air is clear and you can see forever. It’s blue-black all above, dotted with thousands of tiny pinpricks of light - stars. They’re far away enough that the light doesn’t blind you...same can’t be said for the day.”
Vielyn is a little perturbed by the concept of the sky and stars, "I don't see how the surface dwellers can live with that," he comments, "I would feel lost without the steady strength of the stone above." A slight smile crosses his lips, "Well I would say help yourself to my secrets, except I'm slightly concerned that you might share them with my brother, not that they're against him because they aren't."
Kirien, though rather amused by the drow’s reaction, can also understand where he’s coming from. “I admit I agree, in a way. Down here I can see everything above my head so to go up there, where there’s nothing...it is a little exposing. Still!” He leans over to snatch a nibble from the plate, a chunk of some kind of meat. “I like stars, so it’s not so bad, even if I don’t see them much.” The nibble is popped into his mouth and chewed slowly, the empath’s gaze drifting across the bare walls of the chambers as he considers Vielyn’s words. “I might, I might not.” He blinks. “I’d only tell him if they were useful to him somehow, I think. They aren’t my own secrets, so I wouldn’t share them without your permission.” That’s not exactly the truth, but still.
Vielyn nods, "I thank you for that." he says, yet he's lived around drow enough to not trust him entirely "Help yourself to the stone," he says with a smile, "Not that I could stop you anyway."
Kirien watches him for a long few seconds before he returns the nod. Relaxing back in his chair, the empath closes his eyes as though that might make all the difference, even though it changes nothing, and breathes out a deep breath. His conversations with stone do not require true vocalisation but for Vielyn’s sake, he speaks aloud as a faint trickle of gold begins to spread within his skin, illuminating the room with a soft glow. This energy flushes through thin, angular ‘scars’ etched into the genasi’s flesh until his body is alive with pulsations of light; an aura that he regulates the intensity of with immense care so as not to blind Vielyn. And though he speaks aloud, there is no recognisable word to be heard in the string of syllables that fly from Kirien’s lips to an unheard rhythm - he speaks directly to the stones, to the dimensions of this room, asking for the secrets they hide and guard so well…
Vielyn watches the earthsinger drift into communion with the stones, for just a minute he thinks of how vulnerable the mage looks, until he is distracted by the painful light coupled with the beauty of the display. The stones seem eager to speak, having none but each other to share anything with for so long. The stories flow, starting with those who had dwelt in this room long before Vielyn, they hide none of the atrocities or evils they had witnessed from the ranger's predecessors. Reaching the time of Vielyn the stories become a little less dark, they tell of his loyalty to his brother, of long absences, but most shockingly of all a story of friendship. Stories of Vielyn and another young drow, a male assassin of the Stavret House. It tells of his death at the hands of the former patron, the reasons for which are hidden from the terramancer, he could press if he truly cared. The last thing the stones express is the sense of time between Vielyn's last visit and now.
When the stones give their answer, Kirien takes it all in calmly. From the frayed threads of malicious deeds, plots, and numerous deaths, to whispers shared in the dark that are equal parts venomous and seductive...to the more recent memories, not as heavy with the weight of evil as those woven further into history - he sees it all as one might read a book, the stones narrating the tale of lives lived over centuries and millennia. He reaches the last page, those final words of parting and what feels like an age of empty, vacant space, and then they mention his own name and Kirien smiles. On the outside, he remains immobile. The energy drifting through his body mellows yet further and begins to dull, until finally the light has receded altogether and the empath opens his eyes. Even then, it takes him an extra couple of seconds to appear to shake off the residual effects of the viewing and acknowledge Vielyn’s presence in the other chair, and he only offers the ranger a small nod of the deepest understanding.
Vielyn notes the fading light and links it to Kirien's returning attention, "That was beautiful to see," he mutters, "In a way..." the ranger compares that magic to the magic normally utilized by the wizards of Trist'oth "...much better than what I am used to." The ranger regards the male, "Learn anything interesting?"
Kirien’s surprised blink is felt as a faint jolt in the room’s atmosphere. After the faintest pause, he chooses to answer, “...I tried to make sure it wouldn’t blind you.” He gives a rather disarming grin then leans to snap up another nibble from the platter, figuring he might as well pick at it while it’s being ignored. That, and the flaring of his energy just now has tired him some...though he would rather take a bite out of the wine glass, perhaps, but that would be rude. “Some things,” he says, sounding as if he is still mulling over what he learned. “You had an interesting friend.”
Vielyn fights to keep his expression impassive at the reference to his friend though a blush does almost grace his features. "He was a faithful servant and confidant." he says softly trying to cover it up, "Father thought we were to close for his liking." At that point the ranger does relax a bit more fully and begins to eat some more, pouring himself another glass of wine.
Kirien, where others might have shown disgust or felt the urge to tease him at least, only offers a gentle smile. “I won’t say a thing.” A hand touches his chest in a gesture of silent promise. He takes another scrap of food, this a slice of some roasted vegetable. A long silence follows as Kirien’s focus drifts, his expression becoming more distant as an air of consideration lingers about him. “I understand the feeling, you know. Of hiding something like that from everyone. We have to, it’s so dangerous...especially these days.” His lips quirk again, though, in the softest hint of hope. “Still, we’ll work through it.”
Vielyn studies the expression, "You know I used to be like the rest of the Stavret family." he says softly, "All I knew was hatred and ambition. Then I realized that there are some things not worth reaching for, I don't want to sit at the height of power and spend my days defending from the daggers at my back. The position I hold now, no one really can handle other than I, and they all know it. My brother in his own way, saved me from that way of thinking, though I don't pretend he did it on purpose, my friend, Tebryn, also helped in that." an odd look crosses his face, a mixture between sorrow and pride, both emotions radiate from the normal emotional void that is the House Ranger, "I trust you Sidhion." he admits, "Something about you seems contrary to the majority of our race, and I feel different than them in many ways. I don't pretend that I am even slightly 'good' as the surface dwellers would consider it, yet maybe less evil." A smile, true this time and not twisted in any wickedness or malice, spreads across his face, a smile that has had many priestesses of the spider goddess swoon, "But my observations I will keep to myself, on that you have my word, on the memory of Tebryn."
Kirien tilts his head just slightly to one side. He watches, listens, -feels-...and he catches hold of a realisation he initially misplaced when he assumed the two brothers were vastly different. Silence fills the gap between the tail end of Vielyn’s words and his own reply, which comes coupled with a broader, genuine smile. “You’re more alike than I first thought. But don’t tell him that.” A laugh and he tastes the new name on his tongue, finding its aroma strangely familiar - he did not simply view those memories, after all, but experienced them in some vague sense as well. The ghost of a sensation, of companionship, perhaps. “I’m glad you do,” he replies with a nod, “although I won’t deny I may lie to you from time to time. And, well...maybe there are reasons for my being contrary.” A final bite to eat is stolen before Kirien rises, pushing to his feet easier than he sat. He begins to drift languidly toward the door but spins so as to face Vielyn as he leaves - not due to suspicion he’ll be stabbed in the back, but more out of the habit of keeping eye contact while engaged in conversation. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you. Maybe you’ll find out. One day soon, it might not matter.” His torso bends into a deep, graceful bow that almost seems to answer the one offered to the genasi earlier. “ Anyway, I’d better make sure no one’s killing each other over a bet gone sour. I hope you find the food satisfactory? It’s quite nice, but that’s my opinion and my taste isn’t to be relied on. I’ll see you around, First Ranger.”
Vielyn smiles after the genasi, "I would be insulted if you told me the truth all the time in our society." The ranger rises and inclines his head to the mage, "I look forward to serving with you." he says and watches the man walk through his door, sealing it tight behind him. Returning to his chair he drops into it and stares at the black flames, his mind whirling with thoughts and memories, "This should prove interesting." he says with a laugh.