The problem with magic was that it was wild. An unstable thing that much like waspish woman, harmed child and betrayed lover--lashed its way across many without caring whom its barbs landed upon. It did not care, for example, that one moment the drow it had affected shimmered away memories and adulthood, leaving a smear of little-black confused and hateful in a world that she did not understand. The strange, piping language, harsh and disgusting was all around her. Threatening.
The problem right now, is that there was a child creeping along the shadows, bare foot on cold stone. And the child with white hair was as black as any sin, but terribly tiny. (They always say evil comes in small packages.) Trying her best to come closer, closer, closer still to a place that smelled of food. Food and sweat and stink--but mainly food. To which her empty belly growled and she almost did too. Until she remembered of course, she was on the surface, surrounded by disgusting surfacers. Was this my test? Is this my rite of blood? To be surrounded by rothe or kill them all? Befuddled, the sleek-skinned dark elf child tried to remember something just at the tip of her head. There and gone.
If she kept her eyes slit until white lash almost met, she could hide the glint of gold in shadows too, making her even more (hopefully--as hopeful as a dark elf can be, at any rate) difficult to spot in the dark. Two daggers, nearly ridiculously over sized were clenched gray-knuckled tight. They may be too big for her hands, but she clasped them with enough know-how to make the wary pause. When she climbed over the railings and landed on the porch, one knee down and one knee up--she was a mess of coltish limbs. Old enough to have lost her baby fat, this one, but not old enough to grow into muscle yet.
She waited. She timed, actually. Watching people move past a half-opened window like flickering shadows cast from candles. Stink, stink and more stink. It followed her outside even now. Spider-itsy-bitsy style side-ways crept to the open window, eyes peeled to distant and abruptly noisily puking human mail leaning over the railing. Disgust colored her features. Only a second and she literally backs up the wall, a small hissssssss uncontrolled rattled from her mouth. But she realized her mistake almost instantly, and, exactly like a little black widow, wriggled herself into the window backwards in double time, dropping to the floor by the window and darting under a table in the shadow immediately. She chose to breathe through her mouth instead. That way, guessing what that smell was would no longer be her pressing concern. But the noise...The noise. It made the knife-sharp construct of her face pinch and squeeze in near pain. How can they hear one another when they are so busy making so much noise?
A dart of small face upward to check out where she was, how close anyone else was. How far it was to follow the faint scent of food. Right, left, up, around gold eyes went. Too big even as angular as they were in little-elven face.
Gabreal could vividly remember words said and feelings left behind. It left a foul taste in his mouth. He hadn't touched a meal in weeks. Perhaps it was better that way. He stopped at the top of the stairs, the red of eyes staring down at the small world from behind a veil of white. May as well. He started down the stairs, dragging in his wake a waterfall of white hair, pure as driven snow, not yet marred by mud.
Unbeknownst to Suliss'urn, she had caught the eye of a woman with talents in magic. Watching the drow for some time, the woman's eyes drew a line from drow under table to kitchen door and back. Just like that, the obstacle that had kept the drow hesitating under table flew wide open and--
--the door just opened and for several seconds Suliss' had to steady her breath and calm twitching muscle 'lest she bolt ahead in childish rush. Her stomach said run for it but every good drow instinct said Trap! Despite the tingling sense of ill omen at how easy doors flew open with no one there, she hesitated still, bare black feet shuffling along the dirty floor boards. It was then perhaps, a speck of dirt or a whirling feather made her tick eyes away from the kitchen and catch sight of.... A wisp of white? White hair? Long white hair.
She blinked lizard-like, rapid and several times before she shook her head side to side quick. As she follow the endless wash of white hair up, up, up, up and up--the young female seemed puzzled and intrigued all at once. As if she recognized him but could not pinpoint, at all, why she did. There were also too many things to watch. Kitchen. Hair. Legs. People. Stink. Hungry. Must decide. Trap or no trap?
Gabreal's long white hair a train for the ages. There's enough to hide in, and it smells glorious: of freshly turned topsoil, of the rot and offal. Things grow in that sort of soil. Off the last stair, he stopped. His eyes consider the room. There are bodies and masses, tables, chairs. Black thing scuttling beneath, and - Red eyes snapped down and to the side, narrowing. Perhaps distant relations had altered his view of the world. Perhaps it had made him keener to certain possibilities, particular situations that could arise.
That smell is what ultimately cinched something deep inside of her. (If it indeed could be filled with anything but guts and hatred). It reminded her of caverns deep below where she should be. Why am I up here? What have I done to be left here? I can't remember...why can't I remember? He smelled like the only home she knew; roaming in packs of wild children, fighting and killing for a scrap of food while Matron's looked on as they looked down into pits filled with males. And he smelled good. Like memories to feed the belly. Skin as brown as some she knew--
"Dos! Jaluk!" Hissed quietly. Full of an ego that spanned countless miles, for here she was a tiny female commanding a male. From under a table. In the shadows, gold eyes flashed hateful. "Xun dos inbal cahallin?" Quick as a dagger her words were thrown. Now, with tickling worms of strange recognition and fear in her belly, she waited to see if the male would understand being commanded by one of his betters...and hoped he would.
She was hungry and he was too big to try and eat and kill.
((Adapted from live play log, featuring Suliss'urn & Gabreal. Suliss'urn was affected by the Your Inner Child and You SL and currently still is, thanks to the slow elven aging process. Timeline is considered to have happened BEFORE candidacy for Governor was announced.))
The problem right now, is that there was a child creeping along the shadows, bare foot on cold stone. And the child with white hair was as black as any sin, but terribly tiny. (They always say evil comes in small packages.) Trying her best to come closer, closer, closer still to a place that smelled of food. Food and sweat and stink--but mainly food. To which her empty belly growled and she almost did too. Until she remembered of course, she was on the surface, surrounded by disgusting surfacers. Was this my test? Is this my rite of blood? To be surrounded by rothe or kill them all? Befuddled, the sleek-skinned dark elf child tried to remember something just at the tip of her head. There and gone.
If she kept her eyes slit until white lash almost met, she could hide the glint of gold in shadows too, making her even more (hopefully--as hopeful as a dark elf can be, at any rate) difficult to spot in the dark. Two daggers, nearly ridiculously over sized were clenched gray-knuckled tight. They may be too big for her hands, but she clasped them with enough know-how to make the wary pause. When she climbed over the railings and landed on the porch, one knee down and one knee up--she was a mess of coltish limbs. Old enough to have lost her baby fat, this one, but not old enough to grow into muscle yet.
She waited. She timed, actually. Watching people move past a half-opened window like flickering shadows cast from candles. Stink, stink and more stink. It followed her outside even now. Spider-itsy-bitsy style side-ways crept to the open window, eyes peeled to distant and abruptly noisily puking human mail leaning over the railing. Disgust colored her features. Only a second and she literally backs up the wall, a small hissssssss uncontrolled rattled from her mouth. But she realized her mistake almost instantly, and, exactly like a little black widow, wriggled herself into the window backwards in double time, dropping to the floor by the window and darting under a table in the shadow immediately. She chose to breathe through her mouth instead. That way, guessing what that smell was would no longer be her pressing concern. But the noise...The noise. It made the knife-sharp construct of her face pinch and squeeze in near pain. How can they hear one another when they are so busy making so much noise?
A dart of small face upward to check out where she was, how close anyone else was. How far it was to follow the faint scent of food. Right, left, up, around gold eyes went. Too big even as angular as they were in little-elven face.
Gabreal could vividly remember words said and feelings left behind. It left a foul taste in his mouth. He hadn't touched a meal in weeks. Perhaps it was better that way. He stopped at the top of the stairs, the red of eyes staring down at the small world from behind a veil of white. May as well. He started down the stairs, dragging in his wake a waterfall of white hair, pure as driven snow, not yet marred by mud.
Unbeknownst to Suliss'urn, she had caught the eye of a woman with talents in magic. Watching the drow for some time, the woman's eyes drew a line from drow under table to kitchen door and back. Just like that, the obstacle that had kept the drow hesitating under table flew wide open and--
--the door just opened and for several seconds Suliss' had to steady her breath and calm twitching muscle 'lest she bolt ahead in childish rush. Her stomach said run for it but every good drow instinct said Trap! Despite the tingling sense of ill omen at how easy doors flew open with no one there, she hesitated still, bare black feet shuffling along the dirty floor boards. It was then perhaps, a speck of dirt or a whirling feather made her tick eyes away from the kitchen and catch sight of.... A wisp of white? White hair? Long white hair.
She blinked lizard-like, rapid and several times before she shook her head side to side quick. As she follow the endless wash of white hair up, up, up, up and up--the young female seemed puzzled and intrigued all at once. As if she recognized him but could not pinpoint, at all, why she did. There were also too many things to watch. Kitchen. Hair. Legs. People. Stink. Hungry. Must decide. Trap or no trap?
Gabreal's long white hair a train for the ages. There's enough to hide in, and it smells glorious: of freshly turned topsoil, of the rot and offal. Things grow in that sort of soil. Off the last stair, he stopped. His eyes consider the room. There are bodies and masses, tables, chairs. Black thing scuttling beneath, and - Red eyes snapped down and to the side, narrowing. Perhaps distant relations had altered his view of the world. Perhaps it had made him keener to certain possibilities, particular situations that could arise.
That smell is what ultimately cinched something deep inside of her. (If it indeed could be filled with anything but guts and hatred). It reminded her of caverns deep below where she should be. Why am I up here? What have I done to be left here? I can't remember...why can't I remember? He smelled like the only home she knew; roaming in packs of wild children, fighting and killing for a scrap of food while Matron's looked on as they looked down into pits filled with males. And he smelled good. Like memories to feed the belly. Skin as brown as some she knew--
"Dos! Jaluk!" Hissed quietly. Full of an ego that spanned countless miles, for here she was a tiny female commanding a male. From under a table. In the shadows, gold eyes flashed hateful. "Xun dos inbal cahallin?" Quick as a dagger her words were thrown. Now, with tickling worms of strange recognition and fear in her belly, she waited to see if the male would understand being commanded by one of his betters...and hoped he would.
She was hungry and he was too big to try and eat and kill.
((Adapted from live play log, featuring Suliss'urn & Gabreal. Suliss'urn was affected by the Your Inner Child and You SL and currently still is, thanks to the slow elven aging process. Timeline is considered to have happened BEFORE candidacy for Governor was announced.))