RP:An Informative Introduction... Friendship Ensues

Summary: Lanara finishes her swim and approaches the spot where she had left her clothing, only to find that it was stolen by some meddlesome brat! The witch flops into the sand to dry off, and strikes up a conversation with an unlikely, newfound friend. A necromancer, by the name of Celaeno, who is currently studying a book of the dark arts. The two become quite chatty, reveal a fair deal about their past and present situations, and even make plans to meet up again in the near future. This is the start of a beautiful friendship between two women of elven descent.

Location: Gentle Sound Of Water in Cenril - Bracing winds of crisp, sea air gust, rustling leaves from lush boughs which cast shadows downward, extinguishing the caustic effects of the sun's wicked glare. The gentle, soothing sonance of waves breaking along shore to the east and the occasional cry from seagulls as they pass, bring about the notion of serenity. Cast-iron benches are aligned unmeasured distances under the trees' shade-bearing embrace. Less peaceful, the fish market lies southward, whereas north leads back to Coastal Street.

Celaeno :: That self-righteous spirit who had been nagging Celaeno lately had the strongest urge for the ocean. With all of the upcoming perils the half-elf intended to put herself through for the sake of learning, friendship, or even ambition, she needed that disembodied voice to be calm. So she carved out a substantial chunk of her study time to remove her boots, roll up her trousers, and park cross-legged on the sand of a beach. Of course the perpetual student had her Minor Book of the Dead propped open in her lap. Yet the cool breeze coming off the water and the soft lapping of the waves seemed to sooth whatever restlessness that other presence had for the moment as the half-elf spent three quarters of her attention reading and the other part transmitting the sensations. Anyone who walked up on her might find it odd that someone with a black robe sprawled out around them would be in the sand rather than the not too far off library Cenril sported.

Lanara surfaces from the water and tosses her chestnut locks back from her face, as beads of water trail over her slender form, and causing her pale-blue bikini to stick to her flawless figure. If anyone were paying attention, they would have taken notice to the pretty elf frolicking down the sandy and leaping into the ocean, only to swim out about four hundred meters. And then, it was as if she had vanished, or gone under with the current. A mere elf couldn’t hold their breath that long, and though she had the beauty of a mermaid, she also possessed a pair of legs. Perhaps there was more to this woman than met the eye? Lanara, emerges from the water and lazily strolls in the sand, wringing water from her long hair, and giggling softly to herself. Once her hair has been thoroughly squeezed, she continues up the long bed of sand and finds that the beach is mostly vacant, her chocolate hues coming to rest upon two little ones building a sand castle. The children look up at Lana, and quickly dismiss her, as she’s not a threat, and return to building their citadel. Their overbearing father sits on a chair to their left, though he finds it rather hard to tear his gaze from the elf’s legendary derriere as she continues on her way, rather than remain glued to his children. Lana looks as though she’s searching for something, when her eyes catch a glimpse of Celaeno, and the open book set before her, on a dark robe, no less. Didn’t the woman know that she was going to have sand visible on every thread of black fabric?! She eyes the woman closely, wondering where she had come from, and what purpose she could possibly have with a black robe, and a tome, on a sunny beach in Cenril. Was she an evil-doer? A good little elf enjoying the sunshine? Was she behind the missing clothing? Uncertainty is evident in her expression as she clears her throat to garner the small elf’s attention, and smiles faintly. “Excuse me… Have you seen my clothes? I had a towel laid out with some white shorts and a tank top, and it was in this general area, I think? I spent a lot of time swimming so maybe it’s on the other side of the beach…” She lifts her hand over her head to shield her eyes from the blinding glare of the sun, and peers in the opposite direction.

Celaeno :: This particular half-elf had the tendency to go into trances when reading, despite her generally inquisitive nature. Even when the far more fashion conscious woman approached, Celaeno still took no notice, not until the initial “excuse me” startled her from the in depth attention she paid to a series of sigils diagramed on her current page with lengthy explanations and potential uses under each. She jumped, falling back but catching herself on her palms. Unfortunately the silver gauntlets landed directly on the sand rather than her cloak. “Fiddlesticks…” she mutters to herself, not one to use curses any more severe than that--given she wasn’t talking about certain individuals. She quickly removed her odd armor from the grains that intended to clog its joints and make her moving them all the harder and more noisy than usual. It’s then she recalls her manners and looks up toward the scantily clad elf standing over her. Her stormy gray eyes seemed somewhat sunken, like someone who had gone too many nights without sleep, her delicate cheekbones a little too pointed as if they needed filling out. She almost seemed...sick, despite not coughing and moving as normal. The calm of the spirit she was trying to quell immediately broke out into quite a few mono-syllabic words of admiration at Celaeno’s once-over of the stranger. The young mage resisted the urge to visibly roll her eyes, though a shadow of that expression might flit over her face before she remembered only she could hear that particular presence… “Clothing? Why would…” Then she notes the other woman’s sopping wet hair. “Ah. Swimming. I saw a boy wrapping up a couple such items, as I was walking up, in a towel and run off. He couldn’t have been older than twelve. Perhaps those were yours?”

Lanara places a damp hand upon each hip, and shakes her head. Bachias. That little brat had stolen her clothing and ran off, again, likely returning to the wild. Those daisy duke shorts were probably floating in a mud puddle in Gualon, or perhaps he had sold them to some cross-dresser in Rynvale. Anything was possible when it came to her abomination of a nephew! Lana is about to further inquire about the albino boy, when she just now notices that Celaeno is dusting the sand from her unique-looking gauntlets. Were those made of pure silver? Her gaze travels from the tips of those hollow fingers, towards the hem of the cloak, and she quirks a brow. Were those gauntlets in place of hands? The runes are admired, though she can’t quite place their origin, and she doesn’t mean to stare, so she clears her throat. “Thank you. I guess I’ll just dry off and wear my bathing suit for the remainder of the day. She sighs, and drops dramatically on the sand, about three feet to the right of Cela, though her gaze remains fixed on the necromancer. The two women were complete opposites, as Cela appeared to be suffering from some sort of ailment, that made her look underweight and exhausted, and she was a book-worm, often in studying or in a trance-like state. Lana oozes sex appeal, is oddly social around strangers, and always looks as though there’s mischief in her gaze and a dung-eating grin on her face. The witch also was not one to get lost in a book, as she was more likely to get wild at a party, or prank an unsuspecting poor soul. Yet, they both had two very obvious things in common, their elven heritage, and of course, the magic that flowed through their veins. Minutes tick by, as Cela studies sigils and Lana lies on her back, eyes closed, and works on her tan. Eventually, she opens one eye, and peers at the woman, before engaging further in conversation, curiosity ever getting the best of her. “So… What are you reading? I’m Lanara, by the way, though everyone calls me Lana… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you about in my travels. Are you new to the lands?”

Celaeno :: “Studying a new sort of magic, Miss Lanara.” Another trait Celaeno did not share with her sudden new companion seems to be a stiff sense of formality. She grips both ends of her open tome and lifts it so the other woman can read the cover for herself. The title along the spine reads “Minor Book of the Dead,” drawing one to guess some sort of dark arts, perhaps necromancy. “And yes, I am a foreigner, though I have lived here for a few months now. Incredibly eventful months. I tend to stick between Xalious, Kelay, and Cenril. Occasionally Vailkrin, though I’ve also found myself around Chartsend and Frostmaw a few times on misadventures or visits. I tend to avoid Larket as a rule, if I can.” The way her gauntlets creak as she maneuvers them, a high whine as the reinforced silver scraps together at the joints, is made worse by bits of sand creeping into them, would certainly reinforce the conclusion they are prostheses of a kind. The glowing runes most certainly indicate their enchanted nature. She sets the book back into her lap and repositions her cloth marker before closing it. Her eyes are starting to burn as it is, so perhaps some conversation with someone new would help rest them, depending on the other’s reaction to her new field. “Am I correct in assuming you are a native or have you merely naturalized yourself until you carried on as one?” A faint red stains her tawny cheeks, however sharp they are at the moment, as she quickly adds, “I am Celaeno, by the way.”

Lanara rolls onto her stomach, so that the sun could gently warm her back, as well as hopefully perfect her tan, so that she wouldn’t be darker on one half of her body. Her long locks are drying nicely, and soft curls form at the end of the strands, from a mixture of sea water and sunshine, though they are free of any annoying frizz. Resting her chin in her open palm, she props up on her elbows, and squints to read the title of the tome, though her eyes don’t deceive her true thoughts on the matter. Cela wouldn’t find judgment in the woman’s voice, as she issues a simple reply, “Since when is death a ‘minor’ subject? I’ve… Been there, in the past. It’s a fascinating topic.” A moment of silence passes between them, as Lana reflects on a time when she wasn’t a beach-frolicking beauty. Instead, she was buried six feet beneath a thick layer of snow, in the tundra known as Frostmaw, to the north. However, looking upon her now, one would never know that she had perished, twice, in fact. All within the past year. She manages a small smile for Cela, clearly not having an issue with the other elf being a necromancer. To each their own, and not everyone was pure light, or pure darkness. As the woman introduces herself, formally, and elaborates on where she’s from, and where she’s been, she finds herself hanging on her every word, giving her the utmost attention. “Pleasure to meet you, Cela. And please, it’s just Lana. Formalities make me feel old or uptight!” A soft giggle ensues, as the question it turned towards her, now. “I hail from a faraway land, known as Kelvar. It was a beautiful elven kingdom, ninety-five percent female population, and shrouded in mist, so you wouldn’t likely find it in your travels, and it’s not on any map… But… The drow came, and they slaughtered my family and friends, and torched the forest. So… After being separated from my younger sibling, I traveled near and far, for two years, before finding her in Kelay. Her name is Talyara; she’s a witch, much like myself. We made a home in Sage Forest, which was oddly also under attack from the Drow, and a curse was placed on the forest, so we traveled to Frostmaw. I lived there for quite some time, and I took a job as a model in Cenril and lived here for a bit. I’m now living in Venturil, with my fiancé… But the citizens are a bit savage, all human, and have a dislike for magic users. So it gets stifling just sitting in my home and twiddling my thumbs all day. I –had- to escape to the beach for the day! I’ve been in the lands for about four years now…” Finally, Lana finishes her origin story and comes up for air, grinning as she found another as talkative as herself, and she ignores the clinking in the prosthesis and continues the conversation. “So Cela, what was it that brought you to the lands?” Assuming there was more to the elf’s story, her expression softens, and she appears fully engrossed in what the woman has to say.

Celaeno :: “It...refers to the basics of the art,” the half elf says, her nose wrinkling and voice catching at the witch’s liberal use of her nickname. All the while the very being who had made it up was laughing in the girl’s head as Celaeno relayed the information, a reluctant obligation under the circumstance. Was it a sign of some kind? No, she didn’t believe in that prophetic drivel. She could believe in eerily familiar personality types, however. However, her slightly pointed ears perk at the next statement where Lanara claims to have “been there.” “Wait...you mean you have died before? How in the world are you alive now? Or do you mean you are an undead being of sorts? I have met a couple, though you look far better than all of them, save the vampires. Unless...you are a vampire?” The odd feeling of foreboding she got around those creatures wasn’t emanating off of the scantily clad elf, though. Her mind spun some, dizzy for something as miraculous as true resurrection being spoken of so lightly. It made her blandly polite attention perk to its full inquisitive potential until she was hanging on Lanara’s every word as the chatty woman seemed to be to her own. “Very well Miss...Lana,” she says, the shortening sitting oddly on her tongue. Yet, then the woman proceeded to tell a truncated life story. Throughout, Cela listens, nodding along, her eyebrows crinkling together with unfamiliar details such as “drow” and “Venturil.” The words were familiar, of course, with how much she had been reading into the land’s history, but any further information hadn’t been explored just yet. “Well, congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. Venturil is one of the few places I have not ventured to. I suppose with primitive folk living there, though, it wouldn’t have a library I haven’t heard of, especially with a distrust of magical practitioners. Backwards places like that tend not to be very welcoming to...our type, in my experience.” She rests her hands in her lap, on top of her book, lips pursing a moment as she considers if she should reciprocate an origin, and if so how much truth to tell of it. Despite that she’d opened up quite a bit since coming to Lithrydel, she remained rather private about that particular part of her story. Still, the little voice prompted she say something… “I grew up traveling at my homeland. It went by many names, really, depending on who you asked. It was always just me and my family, though, in our covered wagon with the horse. We were happy, more or less. Thus far, you remind me very much of my sister, before she passed.” She winces as that voice harps at her, but recovers her composure soon enough afterwards. “Then I started serving my old mentor as an assistant, learning how to do runic enchantment and some assorted tricks. Despite promises, he never taught me his arts, necromancy. Eventually, he proved untrustworthy, and I left his service. On a farce, I sailed away from that continent and a storm took the ship far enough off course to land me here. And here I have been ever since.” She winces, and holds her palm to her head, as if suddenly a headache had struck, leaving her grumbling, half to Lanara, half to herself. “Tell me, are all sisters as pesky as mine is? ...I mean was. Always bossy, believing they know best for their sibling, being overprotective, sometimes to a fault?”

Lanara laughs as the half-elf struggles with being less formal, and a faint blush rises to her high cheekbones as she’s congratulated on her engagement to Eirik. “Thank you.” The circumstances surrounding herself and her betrothed are still somewhat a sore subject. She loved the lycan, wholeheartedly, and she truly believed that against all odds, that they were soul mates. If the exchange of vows were to ever come to fruition, their marriage would be put to the test, and often. However, she couldn’t tell others the identity of the lycan, nor had she told her very own sibling or her closest friends that she was even engaged! How did one confess that a woodland witch had fallen head over heels for a berserker ex-witch killer?! And although she hinted that the residents in Denubyrg disliked magic users, she wasn’t –entirely- truthful to the woman. They hated witches, in particular. Kybella had wreaked havoc on the small town within Venturil, and as Lanara was the only witch that lived within their walls, she made an easy target to dislike. Her thoughts run rampant for a few moments, and she’s almost thankful when the topic turns to her death, rather than having to further explain her love life. Those questions she could answer, and easily. “No, I’m not a vampire, or a ghost, or anything of the sort. I-I died during a spell gone awry. Almost a year ago, up in Frostmaw. The magical blast blew my father through a portal, where he remained for six months, unable to hurt another. And me? I was blown into bits and pieces, and my sister came at the very end, put out the fire, and buried the remaining parts of my body. I went to the Otherside, for about three months. I don’t remember much. All I remember is that I made a ‘deal’ and I was born anew. I woke in a field of flowers, and all of my tattoos and scars had vanished. The deal stood for quite some time… I was without my magic, silenced, and unable to wield a broom or cast any spell. However, in a sacrifice to save my sibling, my powers were returned to me, and I am whole, once more. The second time I died… I was thrown from the second story window and… My sister made a sacrifice to the Goddess. She gave up her gift of empathy and life was breathed back into me. I don’t remember much, I’m sorry. But it’s taught me to have faith, and to cherish every moment of your life, for you don’t know when it could be your last.” A single tear trickles down her lightly tanned cheek, which she quickly brushes away; though she manages a brief chuckle at the mention of Cela’s sister being ‘pesky’ and she can’t help but be reminded of her very own. “Taly can be a brat, she’s always getting into things, and I nearly had a heart attack with every man she has brought home as a date! But I think I’m the bossy older sister, always looking out for her… I’m sorry for your loss. How did your sister pass, if you don’t mind me asking?” Lana shyly extends a hand, and in a comforting gesture, lightly rubs the shoulder of the half-elf, her dark hues widening slightly in surprise. Cela thought that Lana had similarities to her late sister? Despite the fact that she referred to her sister as an overbearing pest, the witch can’t help but smile at the compliment. “You remind me of my old best friend, Linn. He was an enchanter, and he vanished one day, along with several other mages. He hasn’t been seen in over two years in the realm…” A pause. “Tell me more about your sister. Do the rest of your family live in the lands, too?”

Celaeno :: “Hmm, I should have figured the divine were involved somehow. A proper sacrifice fits with what I know of the subject.” Surely a book on the basics of Necromancy wouldn’t cover something as advanced as full resurrection, though. The half elf’s eyes flit away as she noted Lanara’s tear, not being one to stare, or comment, especially on a first meeting. Her neutral facade stays in place, her mouth a line despite her stormy eyes focusing on the ocean as she replies about her own late sister. “What I’ve been told is that she was turning back from a port city and bandits attacked her on the road.” A small grin cracks the mask, fond and proud all at once. “She was quite the accomplished warrior. Out of ten, she took down eight of them all by herself before the final two used an underhanded maneuver to finally take her down. There wasn’t really a message, but I felt it. I think given our heritage and sharing a womb made some sort of connection, so it was quite a blow when it severed.” She takes a deep, cleansing breath as the grin fades and the passive line returns to her mouth. “My family hails from a continent quite a ship’s ride away. Father came from a port city, more urban than elves that follow the traditional ways, and our mother was part of some traveling folk. Many called them gypsies. We traveled with them for awhile before we split ways. Our mother went with her family while Father kept us.” She winces and rubs her temple as if a headache suddenly beset her, the unheard spectre in her mind going on a sudden tirade. “Regardless, your friend was also overly serious and studied too much? I admit I haven’t met many other enchanters on my travels so far, even fewer rune enthusiasts, apart from an odd yet remarkable smith.”

Lanara sits up and hugs her knees to her chest, listening intently about Cela’s heritage, and she finds herself smiling. It was refreshing to let another do all the talking, and to merely observe their body language and listen to some verbal cues as they spoke. Despite her twin’s passing, the half-elf was proud that she managed to duke it out successfully with eight bandits, before facing her untimely demise. There still was pain in that memory. And Lana gathers that Cela isn’t overly fond of her father, though she liked the nomadic lifestyle choice of the gypsies, despite the fact that her mother had fled for adventure, rather than raise her daughters. All in all, it was a fantastical tale, and the woman finds that she’s absorbed in learning more about this woman’s past, against all odds. She knew better than to let in others and her inner circle was extremely small, for a reason. It both protected the others, and herself, and that’s precisely why nearly everyone in the realm was kept at arm’s length, aside from her sister, her fiancé, and a fun drinking partner. But what was the harm in adding –one- more to the mix? For some reason, she finds that she’s drawn to this necromancer student, and she tilts her head to the side, as her lips curve up to form a silken smile. “Yes! Linn was constantly studying. And he babbled! All. The. Time. After a while one would just tune him out, as he would drone on and on about magic, gems, metals, and what not. But it’s such a handy tool to be an enchanter…” The wind picks up as they converse, and seeing that her suit is now dry and clouds are coming in overhead, the witch slowly rises to her bare feet. “It was an absolute pleasure meeting with you, Cela… I hope we can continue learning about one another in the coming days… I must be on my way to pick up my dress before the shop closes. I can’t go to the ball in my bathing suit!” She chuckles, and continues, “I hope to see you at the ball! You should go… You can meet some others and learn more about the area. It’s going to be at the Dancing Destrier in Xalious, three eve’s from now. Maybe I’ll see you there?” Lana would pause, awaiting a response, before she’d either smile or frown, depending on Cela’s answer, before she would head on her way to Kreekitaka’s shop.

Celaeno hadn’t even gotten to her hand trick yet with her gauntlets, despite Lanara no doubt already figured that particular quirk out based on hearing the lack of anything muffling the sounds of her armor. Upon describing Linn, the half-elf frowns as heat rushes to her face. That did sound quite a bit like her when she started to talk shop. “Well it’s a pity he isn’t around anymore. He sounds fascinating. I would like to start incorporating gems into my practices. Perhaps I can talk to one of the instructors at the tower…” Right as she trailed off once Lanara began to stand, she bites her lip, thinking she scared the oddly fascinating woman off by starting to babble herself. She stays planted, grinning at the cloud cover as she re-opens her book. “A dance? Much like the Yule Ball, I’m sure… I’ll think about it. Perhaps I’ll whip something up beforehand. That’s close to where I stay.” Her mood seemed to dampen a bit as she sighs, but the smile stays on as she politely bows her head to the departing elf. “A surprising pleasure meeting you as well, Miss Lana. I’m hope we run into each other again in the future.”