Page 1 of 2 12 LastLast
Results 1 to 10 of 11

Thread: [M] Balanced Roots [Alter Ego & Ashen]

  1. #1
    Member
    Ashen's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2011
    Location
    A land that smells of sunflowers
    Favourite Roleplay Genres
    medieval fantasy
    Posts
    4,876
    Mentioned
    8 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    77

    Default [M] Balanced Roots [Alter Ego & Ashen]

    [This roleplay is rated Mature for any of the following reasons, in moderation or excess: swearing, violence, sexual themes, alcohol or drug use or abuse, and things that do not fit these limitations. Reader discretion is advised.]

    Balanced Roots

    In the peaceful town of Devaduta, the only town for miles was the raging storm. Lightning shattered the earth and thunder's call sounded throughout the whole town, making it impossible to sleep. However, at this late hour, it seemed no one else was awake. This was a trait of this quaint old town: no matter what was going on, the people never seemed bothered.

    Kay'zha had never understood that. He'd moved to Devaduta some five years ago, after learning that the previous priest had passed away of the Plague. After so long, the twenty-seven-year-old was sure he would never adopt the tranquility that always enveloped the town. While his town slept, he was awake with a pounding headache.

    He didn't have the opportunity to relax. The priest never allowed himself to rest when there was work to be done. Despite the storm and the moon shining outside, the priest was busying himself with clearing away the candles from the ritual that night. Part of his duties as priest involved performing healings for people. He, of course, could not heal; Kay'zha called upon the powers of the White Spirit, Albia. Albia, for some reason, had chosen Kay'zha long ago to be her human bridge.

    That was why Kay'zha had become a priest. Religion had never been a passion of his, or even an interest, but he was the only man that he knew of that could use the powers of Albia. He had free communications with her, and so he used her abilities to help people. He didn't enjoy it, but it was what Albia asked of him.

    Albia, however, did not work alone. While people erected churches to honor the White Spirit, cults also met to honor the Black Spirit. This spirit, Ater, was Albia's equal and opposite. Where Albia was seen as the benevolent deity that protected and guided humankind, Ater was seen as the being that controlled sin. His name was whispered like a cuss among people so bold, and in some areas, just saying his name was enough for a death sentence. People feared Ater as much as they hated him.

    That was why Kay'zha never told anyone of his connection to both spirits. He was the bridge between them, good and evil, Albia and Ater. In the face of the people, he worshiped only Albia, but in private, he needed to satiate the Black Spirit as well.

    As he cleared away the day's tools, Kay'zha let out a sigh. It had been a long day, and he knew it was going to be an even longer night. He looked out the window of his chapel, at the world illuminated by lights from the heavens. He liked the monotony of Devaduta, the routine of his boring life, but an ever-present fear lingered within him. With both spirits having control of his body at will, he could only think of the troubles he would get into, or what sorts of troubles would come to him.

  2. #2
    Member
    Alter Ego's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2013
    Location
    Normandy-SR2
    Favourite Roleplay Genres
    romance, fantasy, horror
    Posts
    3,569
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    103

    Default

    The loud crack of thunder woke Dahlia up from her more-or-less restful sleep. She jolted upright in the rickety cart, wincing in pain at her aching lower back. Quickly massaging it, she laid herself back down and peeked out from under the sheet that protected the merchant's goods from the pouring rain.

    Her dark eyes glanced around her even darker surroundings. To her left, or behind the merchant's back, she could see nothing but the silhouettes of trees and the vast night sky above her. She peered to her right, and almost let out a yelp of excitement when she saw dim lights slowly growing larger.

    Covering her lips, she ducked back underneath the tarp and dug through her poorly made cloth satchel, her fingers fumbling along the scratchy bottom as she pulled out the remainder of the food that she had stolen weeks ago from her pale mother and father. The bread was slightly moldy and the cheese was warm, but Dahlia bit around the gross ends and thought back to the weeks that had passed by so quickly.

    It took a toll on her, certainly; days of cramming into the uncomfortable wagons of unknowing traders and merchants, slinking around the occasional town and the constant eavesdropping on conversations, patting her mother's white powder on her hands and arms and tugging her cloak tightly around her body to conceal her tanned complexion when she needed to speak to someone. Dahlia had nearly ran out of the powder and was ready to resort to the flour in her carrier's stock, but as the cart neared the looming town, she was confident that she would not even need the rest of said powder.

    "Devaduta is just up ahead," the merchant, a man with a deep and rasping voice, said. Next to him a womanly figure grunted.

    "About time. My damn arse has just about had it with this piece of shite wagon. You said pillows would help make it more comfortable, you know."

    The assumed couple began to bicker back and forth, which happened quite often on Dahlia's journey with these two. Surprisingly enough, they had yet to notice their little stowaway. The only word that really caught Dahlia's attention was the mention of a "home," but the conversation quickly carried on without further mention of "home."

    Hopefully, Dahlia would soon find a home of her own.

    What seemed like hours later, the cart finally began to slow down. Dahlia's heart began to race as she realized it was just about the time to take her leave. Throwing the remaining scraps of bread out of the side of the cart, Dahlia rolled to her belly and crawled to the edge of the wagon, holding her breath and trying to shimmy as quietly as possible off and out of the cart.

    "We need to stop at the Inn!"

    "I am aware, darling!"

    With her hands outstretched, she groped along blindly until her palms felt nothing beneath them and the cold wetness of rain tapped on her skin. Dahlia took one last deep breath, pulling her body weight back on to her legs before she pushed with her feet and launched herself out of the cart.

    She landed ungracefully, falling on her side and tumbling a ways behind the cart, rocks hitting her skin and the cool mud from the path smearing along her body. Dahlia heard the sound of cloth tearing, and silently cursed. Her knees began to sting and when she ground her teeth, she could feel grit. Spitting, she stood up and wiped herself off, watching as the couple continued to argue, seemingly not even noticing Dahlia's presence, to her relief. Whether it was from the sound of the storm or because of Dahlia's sneakiness, she would never know.

    Dahlia snickered and folded her arms against her chest.

    "Old people are all the same. They're no different than Justine and Goliath. Once their hearing is gone, it's gone."

    The rain continued to pour, showing no signs of stopping. It didn't take long for Dahlia's warm and dry cloak to turn cold and wet. She sighed, her shoulders sagging a bit before she looked around, her eyes adjusting to the dimness of the night.

    With the rain coming down as hard as it was, it was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of her. She looked behind her, and saw the warm glow of tens of lights. Either the main hubbub of the town or possibly some homes for the its residents. Though Dahlia couldn't make out the entirety of the town, she made the assumption of it being a similar layout to her tiny village far to the east of Devaduta. If they were anything alike, there would have to be a chapel somewhere in the center of the town.

    She walked to the far left side of the road, looking for some kind of sign of a chapel. Trying to read literal signs would have been pointless. No matter how many times she looked at the supposed "writing" on the pieces of wood that dotted crossroads, it all looked like gibberish to her.

    "Chapels are usually well-lit, and are big buildings. Sometimes with even bigger glass windows. Dunno what else to look for, though," she said to herself, nipping on the cuticle of her thumb.

    As she continued to follow the lights dotting the sides of the street, she came across something that looked like a large bell. It looked worn but sturdy, the ridges of it slightly chipped and the shiny color of it muddled. Dahlia glanced at it for a moment before looking past the bell, seeing two more lights and behind them inky figures of varying shapes and sizes. Next to those shapes, though, was a towering building that looked more well-lit than any of the other homes she had passed.

    A bright flash of lightning streaked across the sky, giving Dahlia more than enough time to see the building that she was standing in front of:

    The chapel.

    Stained glass windows and very tall. That was all Dahlia needed to see before she ran to the front of it, her body trembling as she beheld the mighty door that separated her from the only other person with dark skin for hundreds of miles around.

    She clenched her fist and raised it, holding it up to the wood before hesitating. For a moment, she felt a bolt of fear strike her like lightning. Dizzying thoughts ran through her head, making her doubt herself before she clenched her jaw and shook her head.

    I've come way too far to back out now, she reminded herself, lowering her fist and instead opting to press both of her hands against the door. I'm not leaving until I get the answers I want!

    Determination boiled throughout her veins as she pushed the door open in time with another crack of thunder. The door swung open, and before her stood a young man fiddling with some candles.

    Dahlia stepped inside and out of the rain and extended a finger at the man before her, glowering at him.

    "You," she growled, not bothering to hide the venom in her voice, "owe me answers."
    Last edited by Alter Ego; 05-08-2017 at 11:06 PM.


    Spoiler: Run While You Can... 


    Spoiler: RPs I'm Currently In 

  3. #3
    Member
    Ashen's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2011
    Location
    A land that smells of sunflowers
    Favourite Roleplay Genres
    medieval fantasy
    Posts
    4,876
    Mentioned
    8 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    77

    Default

    The sound of a cart outside broke Kay'zha from his concentrated stupor. He raised his head to listen to the late-night visitors. The cart drove slowly west, towards the inn. Visitors, and so late? Kay'zha shrugged. Usually, Devaduta saw tourists come for him, for the infamous miracle-working priest. According to everyone in a hundred-mile radius, he had cured the small town of the Plague, and had single-handedly restored them to a glory they had never even known. But for travelers to be going straight to the inn, that was curious. Maybe they were getting settled before they came to the chapel. Deciding that was the case, Kay'zha set the candles down and moved towards the entrance of the chapel.

    Whoever those travelers were, they didn't seem to be coming. He waited for a few moments before deciding he could at least finish his work. If they did come, he would simply put his things down and see to them. He speculated about these people: were they in need of healing? Of benediction? Perhaps they just wanted a quick prayer for fertility, for safe passage to a new land, for something. He was walking the candles back to his personal sanctuary when he heard the chapel doors creak open. They were opened forcefully, as if in severe desperation. The priest turned to console whomever was standing in the chapel, but when he saw the young woman's face, the candles fell from his hands.

    This girl before him, she was... dark. Kay'zha could hardly believe his eyes. Dark-skinned people were a bad omen, were reminiscent of the gypsies everyone hated. They had been eradicated some fifteen years ago, but this girl before him, her skin could only mean her roots were with them. The priest hadn't even seen another dark-skinned person since the gypsy massacre, and yet... He rubbed at his tired brown eyes. The miracle-worker was in disbelief. Was this the work of Albia? Of Ater? She couldn't have been real.

    Her words were poison, and she was the perfect belladonna. He owed her answers? This girl who waltzed into his chapel in the middle of the night, who had no name or background, just that single demand. Kay'zha couldn't help it; he felt fear course through his veins. There was no way she was a gypsy descendant. There was no way she could know of his connection. There was no way...

    Despite the internal turmoil, Kay'zha was calm and emotionless as ever. He picked up the fallen candles, and he noticed how one had broken in the fall. He set its pieces on the altar and approached this stranger. "Perhaps I am able to aid you," he told her calmly. His voice was level, and it sounded too old and worn to be his. He wiped a long blonde strand of hair out of his face. He did not try to smile. "Tell me, child. What might I be able to do for you? You seem distressed. Should you need to talk, Albia and I will listen."

  4. #4
    Member
    Alter Ego's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2013
    Location
    Normandy-SR2
    Favourite Roleplay Genres
    romance, fantasy, horror
    Posts
    3,569
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    103

    Default

    Dahlia dropped her hand but not her glare. As the man before her stepped closer, she stood her ground and clenched her fists at her side. She listened to him, drinking in every word he said.

    Unfortunately, she didn't like what she had heard.

    "I'm not here to talk to Albia," she snarled, her nose crinkling at the mention of the god. Justine and Goliath had briefly taught her about Albia and Ater, but it had been nothing more than vague descriptions of what each god stood for. "I'm here to talk to you, the only other person with dark skin around for. . .for. . .gah, for a lot of miles!"

    Dahlia lowered the hood of her muddy cloak. While the fabric had been able to absorb most of the rain, it still left her hair damp. Black curly strands clung to the sides of her round face, some of the rain water dripping down her dirty forehead and sliding off of her slender nose. Though Dahlia knew she looked like a mess, she could care less.

    She took several steps forward until she was only a foot away from the priest. Dahlia never once let her feral stare drop.

    "Why," she started, "are there no others like me? And you? And you, why haven't I heard about you until just a few months ago?" Dahlia let a look of pure grief cross her face for but a moment. "Why wasn't I told about you. . ."

    Dahlia felt as though her chest had just overflown with water. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting her shoulders rise and fall with each second that she counted.

    Inhale one. . .two. . .three. . .Exhale.

    When she once more had regained her control, she felt the fire return to her heart and she opened her eyes, the coffee brown color of her irises aflame.

    She started to say something, but was cut off abruptly by the deep rumbling emitting from her belly. Dahlia grit her teeth in embarrassment and squeezed her fists so tight that her knuckles turned the color of Justine's skin.

    "I. . .I'm hungry," Dahlia said, swallowing hard. "All I've had to eat has been bread, cheese, and some fruit I sto -- I mean, borrowed from some. . .people." She forced herself to meet the gaze of the dark-skinned man. "May I please have some food?" She swallowed once more, finding it difficult to form the words she wanted to say. "I'm sorry for. . .barging in here. It's been a long while."
    Last edited by Alter Ego; 05-14-2017 at 01:49 PM.


    Spoiler: Run While You Can... 


    Spoiler: RPs I'm Currently In 

  5. #5
    Member
    Ashen's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2011
    Location
    A land that smells of sunflowers
    Favourite Roleplay Genres
    medieval fantasy
    Posts
    4,876
    Mentioned
    8 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    77

    Default

    This woman was very much in distress, and unlike most others who came to the chapel, she was not willing to listen to Albia this time. Kay'zha swallowed the lump in his throat. This dark-skinned girl wanted to speak with him, and about their skin color. She was darker than him; where Kay'zha often passed for just a suspiciously dark-skinned white man, this girl would never get away with hiding her roots. Would he be able to lie to this girl now? Should he? He averted his gaze to the candles, still listening to what she had to say.

    She was losing her grip on reality, it seemed. Kay'zha had seen this many times, people getting so riled up that they lose themselves. This he knew how to handle. This was a lot easier than answering questions about a past he had left buried years ago. The priest patiently waited for the girl to calm down, which seemed to happen only after her stomach gave her the warning. He smirked a bit, then bowed his head. In a few moments, he could feel the White Spirit pass through him and into her. Albia would serve to calm her, at least for a little while. When the spirit left her, he nodded. "Give me one moment," he told her, and he took the candles back into the sanctuary.

    He returned only a minute later with a loaf of bread and a slab of meat. The bread had a slice missing, but the meat, though cold, was intact. It had been Kay'zha's lunch that afternoon, but he'd hardly eaten. He offered the gifts to her and motioned for her to sit in one of the pews. "Please," he told her, "change out of your cloak. You will catch cold staying in it. Here." He began disrobing, removing his dark cloths and handing them to her. He then stood before her, this naked man, in nothing but his undergarments.

    He was very thin. The priest looked as if he hadn't eaten in days. His dark skin hugged his bones. Malnourished muscles tried to show his athletic ability, but that all seemed to be discounted due to his fragility. His body was a scarred mess. He had cuts and bruises all along his body, and scar tissue seemed to make up more of him than fresh skin. He wore cloths and bandages covering his groin, and peeking out from this covering on his right hip was an intricate tattoo in a bold black. It was not in the script of the common people, but in a script he had abandoned long ago. This man, though too skinny and too scarred, was almost handsome. With a proper bath, some meat on his bones, and some treatment, he might have made a stunningly beautiful man.

    Kay'zha had never been self-conscious of his body. He wasn't proud of his scars, either; they were just a part of him, as were his tired eyes, his frown lines. He wasn't embarrassed to be unclothed before a woman. To him, the human body was and never should have been something to be ashamed of.

    His cloak was black and a lot cleaner than the other he had in the sanctuary. Most importantly, though, it was dry. He held out a hand to take the girl's hood. "I can let it dry in the back," he told her. "If you would like, I can set the fire and heat up the meat. It should not be bad how it is, but I know not what foods you are accustomed to consuming." He walked over to the pew across the row from hers and looked her over again. Surely a beautiful woman...

    Kay'zha watched her for a moment, planning his words. When he finally spoke, he still kept his voice free of emotion. "Perhaps you misunderstand. I am darker than most, but not nearly as dark as what the gypsies once were. You come to ask of them, do you?" He didn't want to deny his family, his home, but the gypsies had become a taboo equal to almost Ater in these parts. He cleared his throat.

    "I am terribly sorry for what happened to the gypsy people. They did not deserve the anguish they got. If no one has told you before, I may tell you of the story. You know of the gypsies, of the people banished to the desert for reasons too minimal? Those deserts... Many died to its sands. But the gypsies, they strove, until the war. No one knows what sparked the war. Some say the white man heard of a gypsy's powers of healing, and greed sent them desert-bound. After a long fight, the gypsies all seemed to perish. This war, as I understand, is kept under wraps around here. After all, to the men of the land, they were simply disposing of their trash, not fighting a battle with real people."

    It was a version of the story he could live with. Kay'zha looked away from the girl and sighed. He then turned back to her. "Are you a descendant? I didn't know any still remained. Tell me, what is your name?"

  6. #6
    Member
    Alter Ego's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2013
    Location
    Normandy-SR2
    Favourite Roleplay Genres
    romance, fantasy, horror
    Posts
    3,569
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    103

    Default

    After she spoke, Dahlia felt something warm in her chest spread throughout her body, like a pebble being dropped in water. Each ripple the pebble caused sent a wave of calm through her torso, her limbs, her feet, until every last bit of her felt like she had just stepped out of a warm bath. She let out a sigh of relief, finally letting her shoulders ease from their tense hold.

    Dahlia watched as the priest undressed, blushing slightly. The blush faded quickly, though, when she saw how scrawny the man was, like he hadn't had a good homemade meal in days. This was rather shocking to Dahlia; she loved food and would eat whatever she could get her hands on, and very rarely went without a hearty dinner. Well, except for the past few weeks.

    As Dahlia stripped her own clothes, sans the tied pieces of burlap around her chest and bottom, she looked down at her own body and noticed that she had lost a bit of weight after having been on rations for so long. Her hips weren't quite as full as they used to be, and her thighs had a larger gap between them then she remembered having. What she missed most about home was definitely the food, she had decided. After a few meals, she would be back to normal at her muscle-y and well-curved body.

    She exchanged her cloak and torn dress for the priest's clothes, sliding them on as the young man left to go get food. As he turned around, she noticed a small black tattoo on his hip, in a weird script that didn't look like the writing on the signs she had passed in her travels. Dahlia furrowed her brow and looked down at her chest, gently pulling the dirty cloth a few inches away from her torso and looking at the black ink etched between breasts.

    "Wonder if they're related..." she muttered to herself before she finished dressing herself just as the priest returned, seating himself at the pew across from her with a plate full of food. At the sight of the large piece of meat, her mouth watered and Dahlia's face lit up.

    Scrambling over, she slid into the pew, the force of her speed dragging her over just a few inches away from the plate. Hungrily, she ripped a piece of the bread off and bit right into the meat, savoring the thick deliciousness of it. A humming noise of delight came from her mouth.

    "No, this is perfect!" she chirped, her mouth full of food as she looked at the priest. Dahlia swallowed and went for another bite, listening as the man spoke. Her rapid chewing came to a gradual halt as the man started to go on about the "gypsies," and their "anguish," and a "battle." Dahlia's eyes scanned the entirety of the priest's face, as though looking at him would help her to understand.

    "I'm Dahlia Jernestein, but...I have no idea what you're talking about," she started slowly, setting what remained of her food--no more than a few mouthfuls--back on the plate. "Gypsies? Battle? Descendant? I don't know anything about that." She pursed her lips. "Though I guess that's some stuff I could learn from you..." Dahlia rubbed at her temples, trying to dispel the headache that was beginning to form. But one word hung on her, "trash"... It left a gross feeling in her chest, like she had just eaten moldy cheese and was dealing with the aftermath of it. "I'm...'trash'?" she asked quietly, looking back up at the priest. Tears stung at her eyes, but she blinked them away and shook her head, releasing a bitter sigh. "Shouldn't even be surprised at this point. I've been called worse, even if it wasn't to my face."

    Guess things never really change, no matter how far you go, Dahlia thought.

    She sighed again and looked back at the man before her.

    "What's your name, then?" Dahlia asked. She nudged the plate towards him. "Also, you should really eat more. Justine would disapprove."


    Spoiler: Run While You Can... 


    Spoiler: RPs I'm Currently In 

  7. #7
    Member
    Ashen's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2011
    Location
    A land that smells of sunflowers
    Favourite Roleplay Genres
    medieval fantasy
    Posts
    4,876
    Mentioned
    8 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    77

    Default

    Kay'zha noted the girl's enthusiasm at her meal, and he couldn't help but smile at her. It was a genuine smile, one his face hadn't seen the likes of in a long time. She was so eager, and the priest could only wonder about what this girl had gone through to get here. He looked down at the clothes she had given him. Not only were they drenched, they were torn in places as well. Judging from that, and the thinness of the girl, he had to assume she had been on the road for a while. That was not uncommon, but this girl was actually here for him.

    He couldn't help himself; when the girl had started to disrobe, he'd peeked. It certainly wasn't to satisfy whatever sexual tension he'd felt. Rather, Kay'zha wanted to examine her, to see what kind of person she was. Before the trip, she'd been well fed. That was something he couldn't believe. Who would dare feed one of them, knowing the stigma surrounding their skin? Kay'zha was glad there was at least someone out there willing to look out for the member of his family he could not save.

    He disappeared again to put her clothes in the back. When he reappeared, her food was nearly all gone already. This one liked to eat, surely. She introduced herself as Dahlia Jernestein. Kay'zha knew it was an adoptive name. He had met a Jernestein once, someone who had come to him for healing and guidance long ago. It was a name from the far east, a white man's name. This girl had been adopted then. She didn't understand his story, which led the priest to believe her adoptive parents had not wanted to lend her the details of the bloody war that had claimed her true family's lives. Kay'zha grew silent, knowing he would have to go into more detail about it. He hated relieving that moment, hated the flashbacks he got. Just as they were talking, he could feel a migraine begin to form.

    He looked up suddenly when she used his word. "Ah, no," he said quickly. "No, Dahlia, you will never be trash." If not for Albia, he was sure he'd be horrible at offering advice. He silently prayed to the god for some guidance with this girl. "The white men, they believed the gypsies to be trash. They believed them to be only three quarters a person, just property to be used and tossed. But they were wrong, child, trust me. You are not trash. None of the gypsies were." Except one, he thought to himself, and he broke her gaze.

    He composed himself before looking back at her. "My name is Kay'zha," he told her. He was surprised she didn't already know, what with his fame as the miracle-working priest. He looked down at her next comment, looking over his too-thin frame. "Perhaps I should eat more," he said, though he had his reasons for fasting. "My profession would have me humble. Fasting is common for men of the cloak, and lately I have been hard pressed to find an appetite. I appreciate your and Justine's concern. Is that your mother, is it?"

    Kay'zha sighed a little, knowing the girl would want some answers. "I have a few more questions for you, if you would not mind," he said. "You have come from far, have you? And you come to inquire about all of this? From where do you come? Who are your parents? Why come all this way to talk to me? How long do you wish to say?" He glanced at the door to the left of the altar, now left ajar. It was the door to his sanctuary, the room he lived in. Would it be able to fit one more? Would he have to hide her from the townspeople due to her dark skin? He looked back to her. "If you wish it, I will explain the war to you, but later. Now is hardly the time to discuss such grim things. We have only just met, and you seem in need of a rest."

  8. #8
    Member
    Alter Ego's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2013
    Location
    Normandy-SR2
    Favourite Roleplay Genres
    romance, fantasy, horror
    Posts
    3,569
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    103

    Default

    Dahlia's plump lips grew thin when she pursed them as this priest, Kay'zha, explained why gypsies were trash--though he and Dahlia and the gypsies themselves were not trash, despite the common belief that they were. "Hm," she said after a moment. "That explains why people back home treated me weird. Though that's the dumbest freaking reason for hatred I've ever heard of." Dahlia felt her anger rising once more. Three quarters of a person? To be used? It was sickening, Dahlia thought, that people treated others that way.

    But before her anger could completely overwhelm her, Kay'zha directed the conversation to a new topic, this time about Dahlia. He first asked about Justine, then where Dahlia was from and why she was at this town. The girl did her best to keep track of all the questions he asked.

    "Well, uh..." Dahlia scratched the back of her head. "Justine is my mom, Goliath is my dad. They're white. And I know I'm from far away. I think, uh..." She held her hands out in front of her, looking at the right hand. "I came from this way," she said, swaying the right hand slightly. "I think that's...East? I don't know. I passed through a really big city just before I got here. All of the other ones were smaller. It took me around a month, I think, to get here. But yeah, I came here because a man came through my village one day talking about a dark-skinned man far, far to the west of us. Justine and Goliath never really gave me answers to anything I ever asked, so I sort of, um, left. Suddenly. Without telling them. But that's beside the point." She looked down at her feet covered in the filthy rags that had once been shoes, poking at her big toe. "I don't know how long I wanna be here for. Just until I can figure out who I am, why I'm here..." She looked back at Kay'zha, meeting his eyes. "That stuff." Dahlia shrugged and looked away.

    The girl gave a sigh, which led to a yawn. Dahlia rubbed at her eyes. Sleep sounded like the next best course of action to take. She looked back up at Kay'zha, stifling a yawn.

    "Do you have a blanket I could borrow? I can just sleep in one of these pews and use my bag as a pillow. I'm just really, really tired. I hope you don't mind." Dahlia slightly tilted her head to the side. "Yeah, I don't think right now is a good time to talk about this 'war'. Maybe tomorrow, though."


    Spoiler: Run While You Can... 


    Spoiler: RPs I'm Currently In 

  9. #9
    Member
    Ashen's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2011
    Location
    A land that smells of sunflowers
    Favourite Roleplay Genres
    medieval fantasy
    Posts
    4,876
    Mentioned
    8 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    77

    Default

    He had to agree with her, it was a dumb reason for hatred. None of the gypsies had asked for the color of their skin. True all of them were descended from thieves and other felons, but none had asked for that, either. It was impossible to clear in a path for one's self in a world where his family lines were already hated, and Kay'zha sympathized with the unfairness of it all. Without Albia, would he be like this girl before him? No, he answered himself. Without Albia, none of this would have happened in the first place.

    The priest listened to the girl answer his questions, and he reflected on her answers. He didn't know of a Goliath and Justine Jernestein, and the entire content sans the desert and a small port city were off to the east. Her answers didn't give him much information, but he couldn't blame her. Dahlia looked lost or confused, but determined. Had he ever held such motivation in his eyes? This girl had left her family for an entire month, heading into unknown territory, in a world that hated her, and just to find out who she was. Foolish, maybe, but the priest couldn't help but admire that.

    She asked for a blanket, so Kay'zha got up to head to his sanctuary. Before he did, he lingered a bit and cast a glance towards the entrance of the chapel. "Rosa would permit you refuge at the inn--" he started, but stopped himself. Rosa, the single woman who ran her late husband's inn, was sympathetic to all weary travelers in Devaduta. However, Kay'zha could recall multiple conversations he'd overheard where Rosa voiced her hatred for those "damn desert-dwellers". The woman, kind as she was, probably would not take well to a gypsy child in her establishment. Kay'zha looked back to his sanctuary. Perhaps he was the only girl's hope.

    "Come on." He led her back to his sanctuary, hated that he had to now share his space. His words sounded harsher than he intended, due to the pain in his head steadily getting worse. "You can sleep in my bed tonight. I do not mind."

    The sanctuary was a small room with a single window. The walls were stone and cold, and the fireplace to the far side of the room was used for both cooking and heating. A bed was on the right side, a thin mattress set on the ground with a flattened pillow and an old blanket. Opposite the bed was a bookcase, with various titles in the vernacular and another, more curious language. Things priests were expected to have were thrown about: his dirtier cloak was thrown over a chair, candles were resting on the bookcase, tarot cards were on the floor beside the bed. A few pieces of carved wood were by the fireplace, half-whittled animals and figures to be given to the children upon completion.

    Kay'zha was a simple man, and he had simple living quarters. He was also a very bored man: his whittling tools were dulling from overuse, and the books all seemed to be very read. He had no decorations, and the room of a bachelor, it was very messy. He was suddenly very aware of that. "No one comes back here," he explained. "Had I known I'd be having a visitor, I would have cleaned up." He motioned towards the bed. "It is all yours. I will not be resting for a while yet. There is still much cleaning to do. I will be quiet for you." He walked over to the chair in the room and draped his cloth loosely over his shoulders. "I trust you will be well? Should you need me, I will be around the chapel, or just in town, by the lake."

  10. #10
    Member
    Alter Ego's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2013
    Location
    Normandy-SR2
    Favourite Roleplay Genres
    romance, fantasy, horror
    Posts
    3,569
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Rep Power
    103

    Default

    "Oh?" Dahlia said, following the priest into a back room that resembled a slightly untidy bedroom, raising an eyebrow at the priest's snippy reply. Dahlia said opted not to mention it, though, dismissing it as the Kay'zha being tired. She looked around in slight awe, having never seen a bedroom other than her own and her parents'. It was interesting to see how different it was in comparison to her room back home; it was messy, but much cleaner than her own. In Dahlia's room, dirty clothes were tossed about everywhere, her bed was unmade, and crumpled bits of paper strewn about the floor with childish doodles and a made-up language on them.

    "Are you sure I can sleep here?" Dahlia asked, frowning slightly. "I don't wanna take your bed if it's the only one you've got. I'm fine with just sleeping in a pew or on the floor or something..." She sighed. "But I won't turn it down." The girl glanced back up and gave a brief smile. "Thank you."

    She turned her back from the priest and took back to gazing at the little objects around Kay'zha's room. The printed cards on the floor in particular were the most fascinating to her. Dahlia crouched and gently picked one up, scrutinizing the details in it. It depicted a pale woman in priestess clothing, with a large holy symbol in the center of her chest. Two thin lines were etched on the border at the bottom of the card.

    Tomorrow I'll ask about them, she thought, setting the card back down and heading over to the chair where Kay'zha had just been standing. Dahlia took the robe off and set it on the chair, folding it as neatly as she could so that it wouldn't wrinkle more. The girl went back to the bed and laid down, pulling the covers up over her and curling up into a ball. Warmth quickly enveloped her, and the soft mattress beneath her was a welcomed hug that she had missed more than she thought. In moments, her eyes were closed and did not open until the next morning.

    ***

    Dahlia woke up to a beam of sunlight gleaming on her face. Upon opening her eyes, she was momentarily blinded before she blinked several times and were sight was once again normal. With a sigh, Dahlia threw her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself off, shuddering as her body adjusted to the cooler room temperature. She looked over to the chair and saw the robe she had worn last night, so she walked over and wrapped it around her body before she walked out of the room.

    Yawning, Dahlia rubbed her eyes and lazily gazed around the chapel in search of the priest.

    "Kay'zha?" she called out, stifling another yawn. She smacked her lips a few times, tasting and recoiling at her morning breath. "Where are you at...?"


    Spoiler: Run While You Can... 


    Spoiler: RPs I'm Currently In 

Page 1 of 2 12 LastLast

Bookmarks

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •