RP:Bard Companions at the Xalious Tree

Xalious Tree

Raphaline wasn't prepared for the awe inspiring moment that would come upon her as the Xalious tree began to ebb its way into her line of sight. It was more than magnificent, it was splendor, mixed with the unseen beauty of its ancient years and magic; To her senses, it was like breathing in the intoxicating perfumes of some of the places she had ventured, places where the more hedonistic tendencies were often indulged in frequently. It was like breathing in the fumes of nicotine and her blood was beginning to boil, and electricity was soon replacing it. She ran her free hand over the bare arm carrying her violin case--there were goosebumps. She turns to her companion only long enough to reveal the mesmerizing look in her evergreen eyes, before silently setting her case down on the grass and advancing with such caution towards the tree. How could she have gone so long without being able to see something so behemoth and yet delicate at the same time? Gingerly, she traces the very tips of her fingers over the bark, calling to the magic below its surface, while seeking all the emotions that had come and gone here. Once she had sated her desire for the magic, she leans her whole body against the tree, hand pressed to one spot while the bare curve of her cheek found another and she began to hum.

Samwell's breath was labored after the difficult and swift trek from the mountains, though his irregular breathing stopped altogether for a moment when he laid eyes upon the Xalious Tree. It's magnificence was paramount to anything Samwell had yet seen in his lifetime. Remembering to breathe he caught Raphaline's eye as she regarded him before turning to embrace the tree. Her enthusiasm was contagious and Sam too, felt the need to be near to the tree to feel it's warmth. He let his pack slide slowly from his shoulder to the neat grass floor, taking tentative steps towards the amazing tree. His breath caught up in his throat as he placed a shaking palm against its bark, a lump forming in his throat. Swallowing the intense wave of emotion he breathed out slowly, letting his companion's hum guide his shortened breaths. The Poet was experiencing something very foreign to him, magic seemed to pulsate so freely, so easily around them in a way that Samwell had never thought of. He felt a connection to it as he never had. Elation took over him and he felt the kiss of a gentle tear roll from one eye. Blinking this away swiftly he turned to his pack, inspired to write. Inspired to use this powerful moment. Parchment in hand he sat quietly gazing at Raphaline and the massive tree before him, breathing carefully. Trying to take in every detail.

Raphaline heard his footsteps, heard the rustling of bag, but she was now to tightly bonded with the tree to just turn away. So she continued to hum. But her humming was no mere music, no, her special brand of magic was awoken deep inside, and with the sounds of music coming from her, they fit together like a glove. Suddenly, her elation was all that surrounded her, and all that she held onto as she dove straight to the core of the tree. There, it was like being held in the womb of the world, and all the feelings, all the events, historical occurences were before her to pick and choose from. Each drew on her own memories, but she did not dwell for very much longer there. As she withdrew, she could begin to hear the sounds of her surroundings once more, and the sound of someone writing. Drawing far enough away so that the connection was no longer as intense, she opened her eyes and situated them on the poet. "Inspired, I assume." She jests, not that she wasn't. There were a million songs running through her head, many she could feel her magic wanting to bend and twist and give to the rest of the world. But for now, she would enjoy the moment. So she found herself a comfortable spot among the roots and rested her back against the tree as she watched the poet work furiously.

Samwell stopped periodically to look back on his work, cocking his to one side on moment, shaking it the other before scribbling away some renegade phrase that didn't quite belong. His tongue stuck out to one side as he detailed the parchment with intricately bound words. Bound within these words was magic. The muse had escaped Samwell, always elusive, not allowing him to so freely connect himself to the power behind his words. But now, now things were different. There was no restraint, he did not feel the wall of frustration come to hold him back, no second guessing his work, only pure, magical exhortations. Almost as abruptly as it had started, his quill stopped, lilting its way to lay very still upon the ground. Samwell stared intently at his work, unconsciously chewing at his lip, mulling over what he had written. With a satisfied nod he swiftly rolled the parchment into one solid scroll, placing it much more delicately than before into his pack. Slinging it protectively around his neck he moved to join his companion against the trunk of the behemoth, clutching his satchel closely. As he slid to a seat next to her, he exhaled a great breath, turning to regard her, azure eyes glassy with emotion. "This has been a very eye opening day." He paused, trying to pull select words from all the ones circulating so chaotically in his head. "I've never felt this so close to my words. It's so... freeing. So beautiful." With that he stopped talking as if to respect the words he had written by halting in uttering any possibly useless phrase.

Raphaline flickers her gaze from parchment to pack, but makes no inquiry nor any sort of demand to know what he had created. All artist in their own time would share, much like she felt about her music. But he was right, this place created something in the spirit, some sort of connection that could not be rightful described. "It is quite beautiful, inspiring, in so many ways that it would take days to learn them all." She placed her hand against a near by root and dabbled with the magic there in before placing her hand back in her lap. "I believe this is the first time I have ever shared a creative venture with someone." It may have sounded like just a comment, but for her, it was the only way she knew how to compliment and possible touch on a thank you. So, instead of a thank you, she gets up for a moment, just long enough to fetch her instrument before settling back down with the violin firmly under her chin. She began to play. She had feeling he would know that the notes she was now playing was the music that had sung to her in this place. And it was, there was something deep to the music, tones and fixtures of notes and tempos that were strange, but in a familiar manner. It spoke of ancient magic, of years come and gone, but most of all it spoke of a raw beauty that only the most natural things in the world could render unto the sight.

Samwell murmurs some response of agreement to her statement, smiling gently at her thanks. He let music and magic wash over him as Raphaline began to play, the high rising tones of the violin stirring in him. He felt the need to speak, "It is frightening to feel so subject to emotion, so disconcerting it is to be so unprotected from such raw power." Sam clutched his chest, grasping his tunic tightly in the same manner when he was falling down the mountain. A shudder had entered his tone as he continued, "To think, I call myself a Poet and to this day I have yet to feel so connected to myself. I have learned a great deal about myself here, today, with you. It is a tragedy to feel so broken and open to view, so vulnerable." Instead of continuing with his broken speech he began to sing, the only instrument he was trained in, his voice, rang out with the violin. He sung words of pain and happiness, of his moments here in this magical place. Some of these words were perhaps recorded upon parchment in his pack, others were words he felt inspired to sing in the moment. "... We were invincible, perpetual, simply brave." He ended with these words and let his voice recede to a low hum, taking his pure tenor to a thrumming baritone, letting them wash beneath the gentle ring of the violin. He had abandoned trying not to cry early into his singing and now wiped furiously at his face. "I'm not like this normally, I assure you, but I'm not ashamed of it either. It is a pure feeling, and I relish in its company." Sam's words were spoken outwards towards the world, to whoever would hear them, spoken as if to affirm the reality of the statement to Samwell. "This has changed something in me. I am mended, where I once was broken." A grin replaced his firm, grim set demeanor. Visage changed he stood erect and shoved his hands into his pockets and paced about the tree, letting the music wash over him.