Velho
Approved Character
- Messages
- 200
- Race
- Æld'Norai
- Profession
- Ferrier
- Location
- AElheim
- Arcana
- Character Sheet
༺༉❁ december 17 year 122 of the third age ❁༉༻
<mildly mature themes and blood towards the end>
<mildly mature themes and blood towards the end>
About a week after his initiation, Æhti had been deemed entirely Aetherically recovered. This was novel, as it was typical for the Mageburn one acquired from an initiation to last around three to four weeks. Velho had found this fascinating, in particular when Æhti had told him that he recovered Aetherically about as fast with Abation. In that case, it had been his physical healing that'd been slower. Was Æhti simply special? Had he gotten extraordinarily lucky twice? Were these results somehow replicable on others…? The answers to each of these questions deeply fascinated Velho.
Learning to wield Terra felt as strange as adjusting to Abation had been– the only difference, this time, was that Æhti had already gotten used to how it felt to cast with Aether. This made things feel a little less alien to him, but not any easier. Still, Terra had a certain, slow, steady grace to it that it shared with Abation, making it a suitable second study. And he really quite liked geology, so it suited him. He did have the benefit of an Æld'Norai tutor this time, too– and surely, that would help.
"Have you already performed Terrassimilation with anything, or shall I conjure up materials for us to work with?" Eyrie asked.
She and Æhti sat across from one another, a table between them, located in a sitting room on the second floor of Velho's manor. For the very basics of novice Terra, one didn't need any specialized sort of room or facilities.
"Aye, yeah– Velho gave me a piece of black star diopside the day I woke up, actually. I was a little surprised, but…I certainly appreciate the gesture," Æhti answered, trying to hide his enthusiasm.
Eyrie rose a brow at this revelation. She had expected the boy to answer no, and then she had intended to offer to acquire one of his favored minerals for him for next time. She had been told of his interest in geology, and she wanted him to bind to things he liked. So of course, it was nice to learn that he already had, but she was surprised that Velho had been the one to give it to him. He had never struck her as the generous sort, and certainly not towards the Fælnir. Something about Æhti must've stood out to him, then…but what?
Nevertheless, she downplayed her shock a bit so as not to unnerve him. "Oh, did he now?" She asked, the words almost reflexive. "How…interesting," she giggled, a small smile drawn on her lips.
"Have you tried conjuring any yet?" Her cordiality restored.
"No, I was told to wait to try and cast anything until I met with you at least once…and I prefer to err on the side of caution, so I obeyed," he voiced his answer.
She nodded, "why don't you try now? We'll practice some simple Lithomancy with it."
Æhti gave her a small smile and nodded at the instruction; he'd certainly try.
The first cast of any Arcana is almost entirely instinct born of the vague idea of what one is supposed to be accomplishing. He wasn't quite sure what Terra felt like to wield, and so he lifted a palm and channeled Aether into it, trying to shape that raw potential using his newfound craft. As he'd learnt through Abation, he acquiesced to the compulsion to speak, verbalizing some scant few syllables to let the Aether flow easier.
And voilà–
…after a few moments, his palmflashed with arcane power;
a chunk of black star diopside about half the size thereof manifested within it.
Æhti blinked, the subtle twitch of self-satisfaction tugging at his lips. The dark, coruscant mineral shined beautifully in the moonlight that pierced through the room's plush, velvet curtains.
"Lovely," Eyrie smiled reassuringly.
"Now, because you've skill with Abation, you should have the ability to make a minor manipulation to the mineral before pushing yourself into Mageburn; try that," she instructed.
The Fælnir recalled that a single spellcast had felt nigh overwhelming when he'd first acquired Abation– he'd noted that with Terra, this was not the case. Her instructions filled in the gap for him as for why this was, and he gave her a short nod before obeying.
The mineral he'd conjured was oblong, almost egg-like in shape. He figured that it'd be a simple enough cast to try and eke it closer to a sphere, and pushing the Aether through his veins in the same way he'd done before, the novice Terrari did just that. The diopside did not become a perfect sphere, no, but it was much closer to a sphere than it was before. But at this point, he certainly did feel as if he should stop lest he strain himself.
"Good," Eyrie began, "...you take to this quickly."
Æhti wasn't sure how much truth there was to that statement or if she was simply trying to be kind, but nevertheless, "...thank you," he replied with a flattered expression.
"I'll see you again in a week to check in on your progress, simple as the spellwork is when you're just starting out. Try shaping and expanding that piece you have, or even shifting small patches of skin to mineral and back as your Aetheric reserves permit," she offered as suggestions.
"I wonder how large I can make this by then," Æhti replied, punctuated by a short breath of a laugh.
She smiled, "that's the spirit– let's find out," her response delivered as she stood up from her chair. Eyrie was all too pleased to encourage him in this regard.
"Tell Velho I said not to work you too hard," the woman said as she walked out.
It wasn't part of the original arrangement, but while Æhti was staying here, Velho had been using him to perform various feats of physical labor due to his overall strength. Eyrie found this funny, but did feel a bit bad for the Fælnir. She wasn't sure if he'd have the confidence to say that to Velho, or if the Ferrier would listen, but she supposed it was worth a try.
Æhti just chuckled at the very idea of making such a request, watching his pedagogue close the door behind her. He found his gaze falling again onto the mineral that sat still in his hand, his thoughts returning to the notion of slowly enlarging it into a strange, beautifully misshapen mineral statue over the upcoming days. The idea, though quaint, sparked within him a small, yet palpable sense of joy.
As the morning sun began to rise, Æhti was permitted to go to sleep. He hoped he'd awaken and feel at least a touch more restored; the thought of feeding his little diopside sphere a bit more Aether was something he looked forward to doing…he imagined it'd be satisfying to watch it grow, even if he remained talentless at sculpting it into any recognizable shape. Because no matter what, he would always be able to look back at it as a memento to his growth as a mage. Æhti liked that sort of thing, the physical manifestation of memories...some would describe him as sentimental to a fault for that, but he couldn't quite help it and didn't see the harm.
Finally, though, he could return to his room, let his mind rest for the day. He'd taken to staying in one of three private guestrooms. Usually, these were reserved for medical patients or traveling clients, but given the circumstances, Æhti was given one to stay in. He wasn't quite sure if this would be where he'd live for the entirety of his stay in Själasalr, but he certainly wouldn't mind if it was. The room was far finer than any place he'd stayed in prior. Before crawling into bed, he'd move to draw the thick, bluish purple curtains closed, ensuring he'd be able to sleep in darkness and then undressed. Prone to running warm while he slept, he went to bed wearing little.
Æhti was sound asleep in the insulated darkness of his room when the door slowly, silently slid open. The Fælnir was a heavy sleeper on his own, and so he was none the wiser as a shadowy figure slowly crept over the threshold and into the room, blissfully unaware even as the door once again clicked shut, this time locked by key. And a few moments later, a haunting figure loomed over the side of the sleeping man's bed.
A viscous, caliginous liquid slowly dripped from the figure's palm onto the sleeping man below.
One drop…
One was probably enough, but the Scourge needed to be sure the young man's slumber would continue, no matter how much he was disturbed. Velho watched as the dark liquid seeped into Æhti's skin, and then, once it had all dissipated, climbed into the bed and beneath the duvet beside him.
Æhti lay on his back, the hand of his closest arm resting atop his sternum while the other rested down by his side. He stirred not a bit as the Ferrier crept closer, and not even when he buried his face into the nape of the other man's neck. Æhti's scent was intoxicating, leaving Velho tempted to tear into his flesh right then. In a painful exercise of self control, he waited, desperate to savor the moment.
The wiry ælf pulled himself flush against the sleeping man, a soft sigh escaping him in the process. Velho lifted the arm he wasn't laying on and rested his own pale, nigh skeletal hand atop Æhti's, lingering there for only a moment, counting each rise and fall of the young man's chest. A few moments later, his hand would drift to the side, fingertips running through the soft hair on his chest. Despite Æhti's more boyish facial features, he was quite the man in this regard.
Taking in another deep inhale of the Fælnir's scent, Velho's hand would drift downward, fingertips tracing over the peaks and valleys of taut musculature beneath supple skin. Part of him felt the predatory compulsion to tear open the soft flesh of Æhti's abdomen and then gorge upon the blood and viscera within, but as tantalizing as such a thought was, he yet resisted. Rather, instead, he merely played with the hair just below the young man's navel, losing himself in that sanguine fantasy.
And when Velho's hand reached the hem of what little fabric adorned the sleeping figure, it stopped. Sure, he did so wish to continue lower, but what stopped him was actually a very conflicted gut feeling– one of shame, one of disgust. For Æhti was a Fælnir, and using him for the purposes of sexual gratification was, no matter the context, tantamount to debasing himself. There was no reason any Æld'Norai need satisfy themselves with such a pathetic species when they had one another. And yet, no Æld'Norai had ever smelled quite as sweet, nor tasted nigh as immaculate…
This inner conflict tormented Velho, but he could at least reason with himself enough that feeding upon the boy was a just action. That's what the Fælnir were, no? Chattel to be used, fed upon.
Unable to restrain himself much longer, Velho sharpened just one of his canines enough to effortlessly pierce flesh– he wanted the wound small, blood flow slow. Lifting his hand and dragging it back upwards, he'd grab hold of Æhti's jaw and gently tilt his head to the side, exposing more of the flesh of his neck. Velho pressed his cheek, then his nose, then his lips against the young man's soft skin, gently rolling his face against him as he did so. And at the end of that subtle, sweeping motion, his lips would part and he'd bite down.
The taste of Æhti's blood pulled a reflexive, nigh autonomic moan from the throat of the Ferrier. His fingertips dug into the other's skin, tension rising in his body along with an inhale, releasing on exhale. He was ambrosian, divine. Velho wanted more and more, all that the young man had, but he knew he couldn't; if Æhti died, then he'd never know this flavor again. He kept track of the beat of the young man's heart, his vitals, pulling away with a heaving gasp only just before he took too much.
The monster, the Devorari, sealed the small wound he'd made with Vicissitude. He restored some of the blood with the Invigoration of his Æcturnis, though not all of it– Velho always had to be careful about how he spent his Saol reserves. He shuddered as he stared down at Æhti, still fast asleep below.
He felt galvanized, energized, and intensely aroused; anxious, panicked and overwhelmingly conflicted.
He had to leave.
Had to.
Scrambling to his feet, he'd collect his cane and leave the room as quickly as he could manage. It was a strange, manic mix of emotions that compelled him to flee. He felt relief only when he'd returned to his own bedchamber, only when he'd buried himself within his own bedding– but only to a degree.
Upon realizing that he'd left Æhti under the influence of Sopor, Velho returned to the young man's chambers sometime in the late afternoon to Allay it before slinking away yet again.
When Æhti awoke, he somehow felt worse than he did before…but it was different than what he'd expect from Mageburn. He felt weak, lethargic, languid. …why? He supposed his only option was to ask Velho, physician that he was.
Learning to wield Terra felt as strange as adjusting to Abation had been– the only difference, this time, was that Æhti had already gotten used to how it felt to cast with Aether. This made things feel a little less alien to him, but not any easier. Still, Terra had a certain, slow, steady grace to it that it shared with Abation, making it a suitable second study. And he really quite liked geology, so it suited him. He did have the benefit of an Æld'Norai tutor this time, too– and surely, that would help.
•༺༉❁ ❀ ❁༉༻•
"Have you already performed Terrassimilation with anything, or shall I conjure up materials for us to work with?" Eyrie asked.
She and Æhti sat across from one another, a table between them, located in a sitting room on the second floor of Velho's manor. For the very basics of novice Terra, one didn't need any specialized sort of room or facilities.
"Aye, yeah– Velho gave me a piece of black star diopside the day I woke up, actually. I was a little surprised, but…I certainly appreciate the gesture," Æhti answered, trying to hide his enthusiasm.
Eyrie rose a brow at this revelation. She had expected the boy to answer no, and then she had intended to offer to acquire one of his favored minerals for him for next time. She had been told of his interest in geology, and she wanted him to bind to things he liked. So of course, it was nice to learn that he already had, but she was surprised that Velho had been the one to give it to him. He had never struck her as the generous sort, and certainly not towards the Fælnir. Something about Æhti must've stood out to him, then…but what?
Nevertheless, she downplayed her shock a bit so as not to unnerve him. "Oh, did he now?" She asked, the words almost reflexive. "How…interesting," she giggled, a small smile drawn on her lips.
"Have you tried conjuring any yet?" Her cordiality restored.
"No, I was told to wait to try and cast anything until I met with you at least once…and I prefer to err on the side of caution, so I obeyed," he voiced his answer.
She nodded, "why don't you try now? We'll practice some simple Lithomancy with it."
Æhti gave her a small smile and nodded at the instruction; he'd certainly try.
The first cast of any Arcana is almost entirely instinct born of the vague idea of what one is supposed to be accomplishing. He wasn't quite sure what Terra felt like to wield, and so he lifted a palm and channeled Aether into it, trying to shape that raw potential using his newfound craft. As he'd learnt through Abation, he acquiesced to the compulsion to speak, verbalizing some scant few syllables to let the Aether flow easier.
And voilà–
…after a few moments, his palmflashed with arcane power;
a chunk of black star diopside about half the size thereof manifested within it.
Æhti blinked, the subtle twitch of self-satisfaction tugging at his lips. The dark, coruscant mineral shined beautifully in the moonlight that pierced through the room's plush, velvet curtains.
"Lovely," Eyrie smiled reassuringly.
"Now, because you've skill with Abation, you should have the ability to make a minor manipulation to the mineral before pushing yourself into Mageburn; try that," she instructed.
The Fælnir recalled that a single spellcast had felt nigh overwhelming when he'd first acquired Abation– he'd noted that with Terra, this was not the case. Her instructions filled in the gap for him as for why this was, and he gave her a short nod before obeying.
The mineral he'd conjured was oblong, almost egg-like in shape. He figured that it'd be a simple enough cast to try and eke it closer to a sphere, and pushing the Aether through his veins in the same way he'd done before, the novice Terrari did just that. The diopside did not become a perfect sphere, no, but it was much closer to a sphere than it was before. But at this point, he certainly did feel as if he should stop lest he strain himself.
"Good," Eyrie began, "...you take to this quickly."
Æhti wasn't sure how much truth there was to that statement or if she was simply trying to be kind, but nevertheless, "...thank you," he replied with a flattered expression.
"I'll see you again in a week to check in on your progress, simple as the spellwork is when you're just starting out. Try shaping and expanding that piece you have, or even shifting small patches of skin to mineral and back as your Aetheric reserves permit," she offered as suggestions.
"I wonder how large I can make this by then," Æhti replied, punctuated by a short breath of a laugh.
She smiled, "that's the spirit– let's find out," her response delivered as she stood up from her chair. Eyrie was all too pleased to encourage him in this regard.
"Tell Velho I said not to work you too hard," the woman said as she walked out.
It wasn't part of the original arrangement, but while Æhti was staying here, Velho had been using him to perform various feats of physical labor due to his overall strength. Eyrie found this funny, but did feel a bit bad for the Fælnir. She wasn't sure if he'd have the confidence to say that to Velho, or if the Ferrier would listen, but she supposed it was worth a try.
Æhti just chuckled at the very idea of making such a request, watching his pedagogue close the door behind her. He found his gaze falling again onto the mineral that sat still in his hand, his thoughts returning to the notion of slowly enlarging it into a strange, beautifully misshapen mineral statue over the upcoming days. The idea, though quaint, sparked within him a small, yet palpable sense of joy.
•════════════════════• -sunrise- ❀
As the morning sun began to rise, Æhti was permitted to go to sleep. He hoped he'd awaken and feel at least a touch more restored; the thought of feeding his little diopside sphere a bit more Aether was something he looked forward to doing…he imagined it'd be satisfying to watch it grow, even if he remained talentless at sculpting it into any recognizable shape. Because no matter what, he would always be able to look back at it as a memento to his growth as a mage. Æhti liked that sort of thing, the physical manifestation of memories...some would describe him as sentimental to a fault for that, but he couldn't quite help it and didn't see the harm.
Finally, though, he could return to his room, let his mind rest for the day. He'd taken to staying in one of three private guestrooms. Usually, these were reserved for medical patients or traveling clients, but given the circumstances, Æhti was given one to stay in. He wasn't quite sure if this would be where he'd live for the entirety of his stay in Själasalr, but he certainly wouldn't mind if it was. The room was far finer than any place he'd stayed in prior. Before crawling into bed, he'd move to draw the thick, bluish purple curtains closed, ensuring he'd be able to sleep in darkness and then undressed. Prone to running warm while he slept, he went to bed wearing little.
•════════════════════• -a short time later- ❀
Æhti was sound asleep in the insulated darkness of his room when the door slowly, silently slid open. The Fælnir was a heavy sleeper on his own, and so he was none the wiser as a shadowy figure slowly crept over the threshold and into the room, blissfully unaware even as the door once again clicked shut, this time locked by key. And a few moments later, a haunting figure loomed over the side of the sleeping man's bed.
A viscous, caliginous liquid slowly dripped from the figure's palm onto the sleeping man below.
One drop…
…two…
…three.
One was probably enough, but the Scourge needed to be sure the young man's slumber would continue, no matter how much he was disturbed. Velho watched as the dark liquid seeped into Æhti's skin, and then, once it had all dissipated, climbed into the bed and beneath the duvet beside him.
Æhti lay on his back, the hand of his closest arm resting atop his sternum while the other rested down by his side. He stirred not a bit as the Ferrier crept closer, and not even when he buried his face into the nape of the other man's neck. Æhti's scent was intoxicating, leaving Velho tempted to tear into his flesh right then. In a painful exercise of self control, he waited, desperate to savor the moment.
The wiry ælf pulled himself flush against the sleeping man, a soft sigh escaping him in the process. Velho lifted the arm he wasn't laying on and rested his own pale, nigh skeletal hand atop Æhti's, lingering there for only a moment, counting each rise and fall of the young man's chest. A few moments later, his hand would drift to the side, fingertips running through the soft hair on his chest. Despite Æhti's more boyish facial features, he was quite the man in this regard.
Taking in another deep inhale of the Fælnir's scent, Velho's hand would drift downward, fingertips tracing over the peaks and valleys of taut musculature beneath supple skin. Part of him felt the predatory compulsion to tear open the soft flesh of Æhti's abdomen and then gorge upon the blood and viscera within, but as tantalizing as such a thought was, he yet resisted. Rather, instead, he merely played with the hair just below the young man's navel, losing himself in that sanguine fantasy.
And when Velho's hand reached the hem of what little fabric adorned the sleeping figure, it stopped. Sure, he did so wish to continue lower, but what stopped him was actually a very conflicted gut feeling– one of shame, one of disgust. For Æhti was a Fælnir, and using him for the purposes of sexual gratification was, no matter the context, tantamount to debasing himself. There was no reason any Æld'Norai need satisfy themselves with such a pathetic species when they had one another. And yet, no Æld'Norai had ever smelled quite as sweet, nor tasted nigh as immaculate…
This inner conflict tormented Velho, but he could at least reason with himself enough that feeding upon the boy was a just action. That's what the Fælnir were, no? Chattel to be used, fed upon.
Unable to restrain himself much longer, Velho sharpened just one of his canines enough to effortlessly pierce flesh– he wanted the wound small, blood flow slow. Lifting his hand and dragging it back upwards, he'd grab hold of Æhti's jaw and gently tilt his head to the side, exposing more of the flesh of his neck. Velho pressed his cheek, then his nose, then his lips against the young man's soft skin, gently rolling his face against him as he did so. And at the end of that subtle, sweeping motion, his lips would part and he'd bite down.
The taste of Æhti's blood pulled a reflexive, nigh autonomic moan from the throat of the Ferrier. His fingertips dug into the other's skin, tension rising in his body along with an inhale, releasing on exhale. He was ambrosian, divine. Velho wanted more and more, all that the young man had, but he knew he couldn't; if Æhti died, then he'd never know this flavor again. He kept track of the beat of the young man's heart, his vitals, pulling away with a heaving gasp only just before he took too much.
The monster, the Devorari, sealed the small wound he'd made with Vicissitude. He restored some of the blood with the Invigoration of his Æcturnis, though not all of it– Velho always had to be careful about how he spent his Saol reserves. He shuddered as he stared down at Æhti, still fast asleep below.
He felt galvanized, energized, and intensely aroused; anxious, panicked and overwhelmingly conflicted.
He had to leave.
Had to.
Scrambling to his feet, he'd collect his cane and leave the room as quickly as he could manage. It was a strange, manic mix of emotions that compelled him to flee. He felt relief only when he'd returned to his own bedchamber, only when he'd buried himself within his own bedding– but only to a degree.
•════════════════════• -sometime later- ❀
Upon realizing that he'd left Æhti under the influence of Sopor, Velho returned to the young man's chambers sometime in the late afternoon to Allay it before slinking away yet again.
When Æhti awoke, he somehow felt worse than he did before…but it was different than what he'd expect from Mageburn. He felt weak, lethargic, languid. …why? He supposed his only option was to ask Velho, physician that he was.
