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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 15, 2019 1:02:39 GMT
(A Greecian mythology-inspired rp )
The sun beat down upon the shore with a warm, inviting embrace, the ocean waves lapping against the sand gently. Birds sang overhead, the calls of gulls mixing with that of larks. The breeze was rustling the leaves of the nearby trees, gentle enough to keep the sun’s warmth from growing too intense. It was a haven, blessedly calm and peaceful. Almost a mockery of the previous night.
It had been a nightmare the night before. The waves had roared, the sky thundering, men screaming as masts were broken, sails torn, cargo breaking free and crushing those unable to get out of the way in time… or knocking them into the treacherous waves. He remembered one man begging Poseidon for mercy, but his prayers had been silenced long before he left the ship. He’d been one of the unlucky ones to only hear the warning about loose cargo before being hit by it, with even raised voices barely able to make themselves heard over the water and wind. He remembered hitting the water, icy in the storm, and sinking below the waves, breath leaving him in a stream of bubbles, amidst the already sinking broken ship… He remembered when everything went silent as the water filled his ears, unable to tell which way was up, certain he’d be dead…
But he woke up.
He’d felt the sun against his back first, contrasted against the cool, damp sand he was sprawled across, the waves still racing up past his shoulders. The tide must have been going out, if it was only reaching that far, having had to carry him further up before. As if waking made it necessary to breathe, he suddenly began to cough, unsure how he hadn’t drowned if he had swallowed that much of the sea. The salt made his throat ache with dryness, sand and salt stuck to his clothes, his skin and hair. His pale eyes opened slowly, blinking away sand and salt as he pushed himself back to sit on his heels, his body aching from the ordeal. A shipwrecked sailor on an unknown beach, unsure if the boat he had been on had been close enough to their destination that he could expect to stumble upon the town they were headed to. As soon as the storm hit, their navigator had become lost, men becoming alarmed long before the waves threatened to break the ship in half. Were there any other survivors? He couldn’t hear anyone, no sounds of civilization, no human life. Just the gentle hum of the waves as they rolled across the sand.
As the thought occurred to him, Leonidas turned to face one side of the beach, and then the other. Then, with a sigh that sounded defeated by something other than a sea god’s wrath, he closed his eyes before calling out. “Is anyone there? Hello?” No answer. He sighed again, eyes opening and lifting upward before he dusted the sand from his hands, wiping off his face and hair and then finally shaking his clothes out, standing slowly so he wouldn’t lose his balance. Shipwrecked sailor indeed… but he wasn’t a sailor. Never had been fond of boats, really. He’d served in the army for a few years once he was eighteen, as all men did, but then he’d happily settled into place with his forge. He could have made it about blindfolded in that place, hammering out swords and spears for other young soldiers. His work made him strong, his dependability made him successful. With a wild mess of golden-brown curls that still clung to the salt, a tan figure covered in a now ripped tunic and pants, his pale eyes scanned in vain over the trees he could hear before him.
In vain, as the long scars that crossed over his face proved just why a man like him wasn’t scouring the shoreline to look for survivors. His pale eyes were from blindness, facing a venomous creature that had struck out before he could wield the sword he was hammering out… it was dead now, some new menace sent by a vengeful god no doubt. That had been just shy of two years ago, and Leon had tired of the pity he was given. Out of pity, he’d been able to find work in spite of his handicap, out of pity he’d managed somehow to keep a roof over his head even as his savings dwindled into nothing, trying to pay what he owed with little to nothing coming back in. He’d spent the last of his savings on the voyage, planning, if nothing else, to at least die by choice rather than waiting for some simple accident to befall him. The helpless, useless cripple.
Cautiously he made his way up the beach, arms out for balance as his bare feet tried to check for hazards, with every stick his foot touched being carefully evaluated before moving on. It wasn’t until he could feel the sand was thinning into grass that he found what he was looking for, a long stick, perhaps a foot longer than he was tall, that he could use. The length wasn’t ideal, but without any means to trim it down, he was grateful to have something. Particularly, as he soon discovered, the sea’s thrashing had left him with a sore leg that made walking even more… interesting than usual.
With the staff, he was able to feel ahead of his unprotected feet, or if the ground became uneven. Which, to his surprise, after about an hour’s walk it ended up stopping short, and with some careful examination he was able to determine it was a step. A carved stone step. “Hello? Anyone?” he called out again, hopefully, his blind eyes searching about him out of habit, trying to calm his heart enough to hear if there was a response. Nothing. Only the wind, gently rustling the leaves of the trees around him. Visibly crestfallen, Leon kept on, using the scrape of the stone against the wooden stick to keep himself on the path. Every few paces he’d go up another step, if short, but with his ragged breath and dry throat, he didn’t mind the ease of the path for once. Every so often he’d pause and call out again, but the most he ever got in response was birdsong.
This last time, however… he was sure he heard an echo. Was this perhaps some sort of an abandoned building he was walking up to? It would explain the stone path, with the grass poking out between the cleanly cut slabs and broken chunks of stone. Or he could be walking up to a cave, but he doubted that since the climb hadn’t been very steep. But why would the area be abandoned? It seemed pleasant enough, but who knew what his eyes were missing as he looked about, instinctively moving towards any sound that caught his attention. But it was never the sound of humans, only animals, small ones at that.
Well, cave or building, it was shelter for the night. Leon forced himself to go on, even though despair began to ache more than his body did. Did he wash up on some lost island shore? Was he going to die there, die alone after all? He wasn’t sure… but he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive in the wild, in an unknown place, by himself.
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 16, 2019 21:02:29 GMT
The courtyard garden was overgrown, and as such, was a haven for a diverse assemblage of wildlife. Insects hummed busily in the thick undergrowth, and the air was practically alive with the gentle drone of tiny wings as insects flitted busily to and fro. Bees bumbled between the flowers, collecting pollen and hanging their orange bellies in the sunlight, running their delicate black forelegs over their bodies and shedding specs of pollen that shimmered like gold dust. Every now and again, the clumsy gait of a butterfly could be seen as they danced and weaved between bright, open flower faces to feast on the plentiful nectar. The untamed expanse bore tussock grasses and brambles, the latter bearing purple berries which took on the appearance of blooming bruises on a shimmering carpet of green. Flashes of colour darting about the scene were revealed to be small, brightly-coloured birds, weaving their spherical homes from long strands of grass and discarded feathers. These tiny makeshift dwellings hung proudly from the branches of apple trees, and occasionally, the birds could be seen peeking their little yellow heads out from their doorways to sing sweet nothings to each other from across the space. The sunlight fell on the expansive square of greenery as if mindful of the garden’s reliance on it’s warm gaze, but seemed to neglect the towering walls either side, which appeared instead cold and stoic. The angle of the building cast dark shadows over the many balconies and openings, but later, the sun would grace the wall of the East wing. By then the woman, the only witness to the serene scene below, would be long gone, chasing shadows rather than golden sunlight.
Far above, the woman watched from the cool blue shade of an aged alcove. She seemed unperturbed by the dizzily high 30-foot drop below her feet, as she was perched on the balcony ledge, hands planted either side of herself and legs dangling casually over the edge. A cascade of golden curls fell about her shoulders, framing a beautiful face that hadn’t aged a day since her imprisonment, and which seemed a far cry from the monstrous creature legend painted her to be, even with her honey-coloured eyes. She sat as motionless as the gargoyles framing the balcony, which loomed either side of her like loyal hounds, seemingly ready to leap at any moment and their faces frozen in twisted, perpetual snarls. Above her head and reaching far towards the heavens, a jungle of crumbling, twisting spires of varying sizes, laden with once-forbidden staircases and lost, secret rooms. All had opened up to her, and all were now as familiar to her as the palm of her hand, no crevice left unexplored by her searching, golden gaze.
After a few more minutes of watching the bustling garden far below, she turned away abruptly, swinging her legs over the ledge and planting her pale, bare feet softly onto the shade-cooled cobblestone floor. Her steps were soundless, only the barest whisper of the hem of her dress catching on the marble floor indicating her presence as she moved. Even in the gloom, she made her way through the winding hallways with ease, the stone archways that held up the ceiling towering high above, looming over her like silent sentinels as she passed by. Her fingers brushed against the stone-work of the wall absently as she walked, trailing across every groove and indentation, each marking or faulty groove familiar to her touch.
There was no one in this wing but herself, and that was why she preferred it to the others, especially the entrance hallway that faced towards the beach. That hallway led into the first wing of the expansive building, and as such was the first to be greeted by trespassers as they wandered up from the beach. The rest of the island was fringed by steep, insurmountable chalky cliffs, making the beach the only point of entry.
The woman avoided that first wing if she could- when loneliness clawed at her heart, the last thing she wanted was to be surrounded by Them.
For, once the front stone steps and the first archway were cleared, trespassers would set foot in the hallway and be greeted with the ominous remains of those that had come before them. The figures were spread out along the haunted hallway, frozen in time, their faces ranging from various states of surprise, anger and fear, hands either resting on the hilts of their swords, or weapons fully drawn and pointing towards some now-absent adversary. They were in various states of disrepair, the floor littered with the rubble of broken statues- those that had met her wrath, where, in a mournful fit of rage, she had once wreaked havoc upon them, destroying as many as she could and letting them smash on the marble floor.
She remembered every single person that had stepped foot in this place, and every conversation, however short, that had passed between herself and each man. Every single word had been carved onto her heart the moment it was uttered, until that second when their tongues turned to stone in their mouths and they talked no more.
Each had come to kill her. Each had failed. There had been a time, near the beginning of her imprisonment, when she had tried to talk to them; to prove that she was not the monster they had been led to believe, but a victim of the vengeful Gods, dealt a cruel hand by fate. She found that such words were wasted, and soon grew hardened to the fact that there was no mercy or gentleness in those that travelled here. Those that came, came only for the glory of slaying her, and would not be talked down- not even by the truth. Only one being had shown mercy to her, and that had been a Demigod, not a man. It had been she that had given her the ability to control her power, the option to choose who might live and who might die, rather than being cursed to kill all that dared set eyes on her face. But it had served to be a useless technicality, as none who had ventured here had been worthy of being spared, and it had now been a long time since anyone had come. She was not exactly sure just how much time had passed since the last ‘hero’ had stepped foot on these shores, as days soon bled into months, and years seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, all merging seamlessly into one. Time was meaningless here so it was impossible for her to keep track of the fleeting days, but nor did she wish to. The only thing worse than enduring her solitude would be to keep track of just how many years she had been wrongly imprisoned. Even so, it had become long enough for her to begin to wonder if the world had finally forgotten her. After all, the Gods surely had, and the memories of humans were even more fallible and easily corroded by time than those of the Divine.
A sound suddenly caused her to pause, her body tensing and becoming as motionless as the marbled statues above, which gazed down curiously upon her from their pedestals. She only began to move as she heard the sound once again, echoing through the chambers, softened by distance but certainly not just a trick of the wind.
It was a voice, calling out.
And now she was running, footsteps merely a whisper on the stone floor as she moved like a ghost, crossing the East wing quickly and heading towards the entrance hall. Despite all evidence pointing to the contrary, of the hundreds that had come before only to try to slay her… she still hoped against hope that it would be the Demigod whom had helped her all those years ago, risking the wrath of the Divine to help her. To free her from her solitude, if not from her physical prison.
But as she neared the hallway, her footsteps had slowed, her movements becoming hesitant as doubt quickly overcame hope. She had not come after all these years, why would she choose to arrive now? And the voice… it had not sounded like a woman’s. By the time the woman had reached the hallway, she was already certain of what she would find at the foot of the stairs. So, instead, she stayed up on the second floor, where she could watch from the safety of the shadows. It afforded her a view of the entire hallway from far above, so she could see the stone statues of the fallen as well as the discarded rubble. For now… no sign of the person, or perhaps people, who had been calling. They must be making their way through the entrance now, and she would see them soon enough. Anger suddenly flared in the pit of her stomach, past resentment beginning to rise as the novelty of a visitor after all these years was quickly overtaken by what it must mean to have one, and what they had surely come to do.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 17, 2019 18:33:14 GMT
The telltale sign of being in a building rather than a cave was how his stick tapping and sliding against the stone echoed. It wasn’t erratic or organic like a cave, where it would bounce back and forth before it dissipated. This was hollow, expansive from the start, and uniform, moving away long before it tried to fade. Leon found his eyes drawn up at hearing how far away the echo went, pondering what sort of stone structure could be so large… and so empty. An abandoned temple, perhaps? But why abandoned? Even the most remote temples had their own stable of priests, servants and worshipers; he’d seen that many a time during his army days. Perhaps it was forgotten? A lost god whose people had perished somehow?
This seemed to be proven true, as Leon - using his stick to prevent running into a column or other item - suddenly found himself hit in the chest, or rather, running into something at chest height. Leon’s hands ran over the stony outcropping, only recognizing the blockage as a statue when he discovered the headless torso attached to it. So he’d walked into a statue… the legs must have been just out of range of his walking staff, but…
“Who on earth puts a statue in the walkway?” he murmured softly to himself, feeling the old edges of the chipped neck before trying to move on. Somehow, he’d managed to miss at least several others in the hallway, as trying to twist under proved there were statues behind him as well, catching his staff at unexpected moments. One catch nearly sent the other end of the stick into his face, but he managed to control the jolt in time.
As he kept forward, jabbing his stick in front of him every few paces to make sure his path forward was clear, and after a while, he was almost certain he was going in circles rather than simply going side to side. Only the lack of hitting a wall told him that he was still heading in his original direction. But it gave him time to ponder this abandoned temple. Perhaps they had been in the process of moving these statues when they had to leave? Why else were so many bits of rubble and statuary in the middle of a walkway?
With so much rubble strewn about, Leon was quickly becoming convinced of the abandoned status of the strange building he was in. The floor was too smooth to be a cave, but it was old, and the air was cool, suggesting it was a large building indeed. Ah, if only he could see! If it was some lost temple, his curiosity wanted to see, to take in some new sights like his military days, and unlike the life he chose to live, in the same small town for so many years. Hindsight, as it’s said, is crystal clear.
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 17, 2019 23:15:58 GMT
The man, as expected, soon came into sight… but he wasn’t exactly as she expected him to be. She narrowed her eyes, searching for any kind of weapon, but apart from the wooden staff, there didn’t seem to be one. As she observed this stranger bumbling about far below, she only found herself becoming steadily more confused. He seemed wary and hesitant, which was to be expected, but it soon became apparent to her that this uncertainty was perhaps due to a lack of sight, if the way he felt out his path with his staff was anything to go by. Not to mention the moment he actually bodily walked into one of the statues in his wake. As the prospect of his sightlessness dawned on her, she felt the sudden unbidden urge to laugh outloud, her lips curling into a mirthless, silent sneer instead. Where all else had failed, they had sent a blind man to kill her?
Suspicion, however, was quick to rise, and as her gaze followed him, her footsteps were silent as she began to walk, heading the same way as he did, just a floor above. Was it perhaps just an act? Some elaborate ploy to trick her into thinking him harmless, so that others might strike when she least expected? At the thought, she found herself glancing about herself quickly, golden eyes flitting from shadow to shadow, as if there might be a soldier standing in any one of them, ready to strike at any given moment. But there was nothing, no-one here but herself, and no-one down there but him.
He was ponderously making his way to the foot of the stairs, and she was now standing at the top. Although she was still bathed in shadow, if this was just an act and he could in fact see, he would soon spot her as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.
“What do you want?”
Her voice cut through the air sharply like a knife through butter, despite the fact that she hardly needed to raise her voice. It echoed coldly off the stone walls, the sound distorting and making it unclear as to it’s precise origin, sounding as much behind him as in front.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 17, 2019 23:32:28 GMT
Leon was, quite obviously, quite oblivious to his attempts of walking being watched. He had stopped calling out as soon as he had encountered the first, certain that he was alone in this space. Little reason to try and draw the attention of any predators - or even the forgotten god themselves. His method was proving effective, at least, allowing him to keep moving forward at a decent pace.
Then, a voice, as if booming through the air, and for a moment, he thought he must have met that forgotten god.
He jumped back, even though he couldn’t tell where the voice came from, nearly tripping on the rubble were it not for being ‘caught’ by one of the many statues. His eyes were wide, searching around him out of instinct as he tried to simply settle his heart down enough to hear anything else.
The first thing he said, however, wasn’t in reference to the speaker, realizing in the time it took to recover that no deity would bother with a blind man like him. Unless they saw him as nothing more than a play toy, and being penitent was not going to help sway that view.
“Ow… by Zeus the fuck was that,” was all he managed to start, rubbing his shoulder where he had landed against the stone. HIs eyes again searching around as he listened, he sighed, standing up and making sure he was steady in case the voice boomed the same way again.
“Hello,” he began, almost as if trying to settle an argument rather than address some unknown danger. “I’m… sorry if I’m intruding, but… my ship sank, and I might be the only survivor, but… that’s not like you’d care, um…” he went on, half mumbling to himself as he realized how ridiculous he probably looked and sounded, standing while turning slightly as if trying to find who he was trying to loudly talk to. “I’m just… lost. If I’m trespassing, I… apologize and will leave. You might need to push me in the right direction for that but… well.”
Then he waited, feeling even more idiotic as the silence lingered. Had he just heard a voice that wasn’t there at all? Was he explaining himself to a phantom? Oh… to see for just a minute around him…!
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 24, 2019 17:00:38 GMT
She was privately pleased to see the stranger get such a shock out of hearing a voice suddenly address him from the dark, especially as he stumbled into one of the many stone statues in his wake. It seemed that until she had spoken, he had not noticed her presence. He did not immediately rest his gaze upon her even then, and appeared to make a show of turning and looking about as if he still had no idea where she was. These actions only solidified the idea that he was in fact, blind. Even so, she stayed where she was at the head of the stairs, her eyes narrowing at his words as she tried to filter the truth from lies.
For, she had already made up her mind that he must be lying, it was just about what exactly that she wasn’t entirely certain. She was still convinced that the act of being blind was to try and lull her into a false sense of security, or if it wasn’t an act and he truly was so afflicted, then it was intended as a defence against her curse. But what of his weapons? She could see none from her vantage point, so she must assume that there were others, perhaps lurking nearby just out of sight, ready to do the deed once she got close enough to their decoy. At the thought, she automatically took a step back, stopping herself as she was reminded that even if this stranger were blind and thus immune to her power, those accompanying him would not be, and would be able to be dealt with swiftly. So she remained motionless instead, regarding him coldly as she considered his claims before deigning to respond, golden gaze flitting away every so often to suspiciously search the unseen crevices on the lower floor.
“I’m not coming anywhere near you.” Was the snarling response to his last comment, eyes flashing. She tipped her chin up slightly, regarding him with an aloofness that had surely been bred into her. “You expect me to believe that you stumbled upon my island by chance?”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 24, 2019 18:42:30 GMT
Leon sighed a little at her snarled response, his eyes still seeking out the source amidst the echoes in spite of the darkness that consumed his world. He was about to speak when she - he was certain the echoing tone was that of a female, if not a woman - went on, noting the tone with a withheld groan. So, a forgotten goddess? The spectre of the matriarch of a family? He was leaning more towards the former, given how she said it was ‘her’ island.
Solved at least one mystery… he was on an island.
Which, in all honesty, didn’t really tell him much given how much of Greece was smaller islands off the mainland, pieces held together by thin isthmuses.
Leaning a little more heavily on his staff, he took a steadying breath, almost wondering if he wasn’t a little hopeful that it was some mad deity that would give him a quick end, given how unusually calm he felt in the situation. After the god-cursed monster had blinded him, he flinched from anything to do with the gods, but now… now he almost thought he might welcome it.
“I don’t expect you to believe my word for it,” he finally said, patiently, “But I don’t know why you’d believe I’d lie about that. And if you don’t want to come near, that is fine, but if you want me to leave, you’ll have to at least tell me if I’ve turned far enough to go the right way. I’ve only made it this far by luck.” The way he used the last word indicated that he wasn’t referring to good luck, but he doubted that any tone he’d take would be received kindly. If it was some vengeful god, there was no way of surviving the encounter anyway.
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 24, 2019 19:37:23 GMT
She sneered at his words, looking away briefly… but when her gaze returned to him, she looked a little uncertain. Still not entirely convinced, but feeling stiff from the tension of waiting to be ambushed, she decided to take the risk of approaching the man, reminding herself that she had her own form of defence should anything untoward happen. Her steps were slow, hesitant and soft, and would have been soundless were it not for the whisper of her dress catching on the stone steps as she descended. Once on solid ground, she became again as quiet as a spectre as she began to circle the man, giving him a wide berth, eyes flitting suspiciously from him to the shadows about them as she tried to discern movement amongst the lifeless statues, feet never once disturbing the rubble on the ground.
“Where did you travel from?” She asked suddenly, voice wafting over from behind and indicating that she was a good few metres away. Maybe she could trip him up with her words. Her voice was firm, demanding, and completely at odds to the tone her trespasser had used. She peeked around a corner to find an empty hallway before turning her attention back to the man, always sure never to turn her back to him, just in case. She was also careful to make sure that there were always a few statues between herself and the stranger at all times, as if they were her soldiers, and might leap up in solidarity to protect her at any moment.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 24, 2019 20:15:34 GMT
The goddess had gone quiet again, and Leon waited. He looked like he was still being patient, but inwardly he was growing nervous. No point in letting a god see that though… might entice the deity to have more ‘fun’ with him if that was how it was going to end. His eyes moved over the space before him as he thought he heard something, but it was too soft to track in the hall, with too much distorting the echoes as they moved.
He did jump again as the voice came from behind him, and remarkably close. Spinning around towards the voice, or at least where he thought it had been, he managed to keep his balance and some of his composure. At least this time he was anticipating something to happen…
Leon’s brow furrowed in confusion at her question; why would she care? He saw no point in lying, nor in staying quiet, but he sounded about as confused as he looked. “We left the port at Syros,” he explained, his eyes flickering about the space that had been behind him in case the figure was still there. For all he knew, she’d circled around again. He couldn’t hear enough to tell where the voice would come from next. “We were delivering cargo to Paros, but we got caught in a storm… it took out the ship. Well…” Here Leon paused, his gaze dropping down. “I think it went down, because I heard the sound of wood cracking in the storm, and I was tossed overboard with many others. So I assume the ship sank…” But the uncertainty clearly bothered him, unsure if there had been others on the beach he might have helped had he only been able to see them…
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 24, 2019 20:54:41 GMT
What he responded with sounded plausible, and the woman found, to her disdain, that she did not think him to be lying. It was to her disdain because if she thought she had caught a lie it would confirm her suspicions, and she would know how to proceed. As it was, she could not yet justify her wariness to something tangible, and it left her feeling uncertain. She did not know how to deal with a threat such as this, how to proceed when the man made no move to attack, as would have been expected. And look as she may, she could see no others waiting in the gloom. It did appear to be just the two of them.
So now, her attention moved fully to him, stepping softly to the left and finding that his eyes did not even flicker towards her. Now she was closer, she could see in full detail what must have caused him to become blind, the scars that stretched across his face like rivers parting the land. Any curiosity this might have ignited was smothered by her ever-present suspicion, unable to let the idea go that he was not truly blind… unless she tested it.
Moving slowly, she began to approach him, eyes fixed on his even as he moved his gaze sightlessly, turning his head to the side as he appeared to try and discern where she was through listening rather than sight. She was a few feet away when she paused before him, regarding him warily. Then, experimentally, she lifted an arm, leaning forward to wave in front of his face, watching his eyes to see if they followed her movement.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 25, 2019 0:48:45 GMT
Again, there was silence. Leon’s unease began to surface, shifting a little as he looked about in vain, as if his sightless eyes could possibly see the god that was irritated with his presence. All he could hear was the occasional sound of a rustle, as soft as the wind against the stone, and impossible to trace. But his eyes tried to follow the sound anyway, tense, half expecting to be attacked at any moment. He was biting down the urge to call out a hello once more, when he paused.
It started because of a few blinks, with a sudden, soft wind that seemed to blow towards his face. His expression went from stoic calm to eyebrows raised, eyes lidded and hinting at an annoyance. “Yes, I’m blind. Please stop doing that,” he said unexpectedly, aware of what she had been doing.
At least, fairly certain. Seeing a blind man was something of an oddity, and he had gotten to the point of recognizing the soft attempt at a breeze that a waving hand caused, testing his blindness. It had been after a group of children were shooed from the former blacksmith’s bench that the gesture was explained, and so learned. This ‘breeze’ was faint, but as the air seemed aimed at his eyes, his guess was at least confident.
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 29, 2019 0:52:04 GMT
His response shocked her, and she immediately assumed the worst- that he could see and this was just some ploy to get her to approach- how else could he know what she had been doing? Her mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that she had been right, that this must all be a trick, and she leapt back, her reaction defensive and instinctual as her eyes suddenly flashed silver, her hair transforming into a writhing mass of snakes all hissing in unison and…
And…
He continued to look about sightlessly. Flesh and blood. Not stone.
Alive.
Utter confusion crossed her face, before slowly, realisation dawned, and she felt, of all things… incredibly foolish. Slowly, the snakes began to disappear, fading away as her eyes returned to their normal, honeyed colour. She almost apologised, but then realised he’d have no idea what she was talking about, and just felt even more foolish for thinking it. She turned away, walking a few paces before pausing. She… didn’t know what to do. If he wasn’t lying about being blind, then maybe he wasn’t lying about having been shipwrecked. Which would mean that he was here, alone. What was she supposed to do? Send him away? Where would he go? With no boat or ship to take him from the island, there was nowhere else to go.
For better or worse, they were stuck with each other.
She could just walk away, with the sprawling grounds it would be easy to lose him and pretend they had never met. But deep in her heart, she knew that that was not going to happen. Whilst she might choose to push him away, through fear or suspicion, she also felt the urge to cling to him, for he might be the last living being she met that had no wish to harm her.
Might be. He was blind, that did not mean he was harmless, nor did it mean he did not harbour a convoluted plan to hurt her in the long-term.
Even so, she turned back to him slowly, still regarding him warily.
“Are you hurt?”
Her tone was… somewhat softer.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Apr 29, 2019 1:08:26 GMT
While Leon was unaware of what fate he had almost suffered, he did not react well to what he could sense. More specifically, at hearing the loud hissing of snakes, his eyes widened and he jumped back again, just as badly, if not even more scared than when he had heard the voice of the forgotten god. His makeshift staff was quickly wrenched forward as protection, but his gaze moved up and down as well as side to side, confused as well as frightened.
A snake’s fangs had been the last thing he had seen. But this time, the hissing came from almost eye level, which made no sense. Either there was a wall covered in snakes, or it was one big-ass snake. Neither gave him any comfort. But… hadn’t that been where the woman’s voice came from?
His breathing still rough, Leon finally stilled as he wasn’t attacked by the snakes, swallowing hard as he recovered. A little, at least, before he was spoken to again. He looked towards the source of the voice, setting the end of his staff on the ground rather than continue to brandish it against unseen snakes. “I… well, my leg’s sore, but I don’t think I’m hurt, per say,” he managed, an eyebrow raising instinctively as he felt confusion at the change in tone.
And lingering concern about the damn snake he heard…
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Post by Kelathi on Apr 29, 2019 21:36:53 GMT
The woman’s eyes widened at Leon’s response, clearly hearing the snakes but with no clue as to where they were or how they had suddenly appeared, his reaction being one of understandable panic. Her words seemed to settle him somewhat… or perhaps more likely, he realised by that point that he wasn’t about to get bitten by unseen snakes, especially as their hissing petered away into silence. At his comment, she tipped her head to the side ever so slightly, and then focussed her gaze to his legs. After a few moment’s silence and an intense stare, her gaze softened, and she raised her eyes back to his. “How does it feel now?” she asked rhetorically, fully aware that his leg would be healed, and painless, now. Whilst it had been a long time since she had had need to use her powers, she found the action had come back to her as easily as breathing. Her tone still held an edge of coldness to it despite what she had done for him, still not entirely convinced of the man’s harmlessness, and she regarded him warily, taking a few steps away as she studied him, the movement seemingly casual but enabling her to place another statue or two between them.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on May 2, 2019 17:05:23 GMT
Leon wasn’t sure why he was being asked so suddenly about his leg, especially as his answer simply led into silence. Then, finally, the woman - goddess? She didn’t sound so fearsome without the echo - spoke again, but the question she asked…
“How does what feel now?”
One eyebrow had arched, well aware that she couldn’t be talking about his leg. He might be blind, but his sense of touch was as good as ever, if not better from helping to compensate alongside his hearing. Standing still as he was, he had already eased the discomfort in his leg, and was blissfully unaware of what had been done. Or not blissfully, as instead of a show of gratitude, he seemed only confused.
And wary.
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