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(original - Cercle) in english. ._.;
heu. en anglais. pardon les gens. ~_~;;;
hokay so this is actually not the start of the story per se, but it's the first time Askerian appears -- end of book 2. (THIS IS NOT THE ACTUAL START OF THE STORY. XD) Since it's all his POV, there isn't as much of a sense of "wtf where's the beginning?".
... i think so, at least.
And yay, Alizea is much less Sue-ish this time around. ^_______^
The swearing caught his attention, as much because it was in a language he couldn't place as because the girl sounded about to break down in tears. He looked up, ears swiveling as he tried to pinpoint the source.
Finding it really wasn't hard; the noise of broken branches and ruffled leaves wasn't subtle in the least, and the muttered curses kept going in crescendo. Askerian winced. Sure, they weren't far from one of the main roads leading to Pandemonium, but civilization was still miles away; being so noisy in the forest wasn't advisable. Her magic, now that he was looking for it, wasn't weak, but badly shielded and wavering erratically. It wasn't going to discourage lots of people from attacking.
Upset, and young. Barely trained. Great.
He moved up the slope, careful to place his hooves; the ground wasn't hard enough for him to trust his three-fourths of a ton's worth of flesh and bones without thinking.
City girl, check. He flattened his ears back on his neck. There she was, skidding down the slope on her heels and butt, in the middle of a small avalanche of loose rocks and earth, shedding shreds of her dress on the way. Valiantly resisting the uncharitable urge to laugh, he braced himself.
"OhfuckfuckfuckfuckOHMYGOD--" thump. "...ow."
She looked up, blue eyes huge and stunned.
"Oh, shiiit."
Now that was Common, no doubt about that, but the way her lips moved, as if trying for other words -- it was quite possibly not her first language. He didn't think he'd ever heard the one she'd been speaking at the beginning, and wondered where she was from; she looked blonde and pale enough to be from around here. Mm, mystery.
Hey there. Are you alright? he asked, ears flicking forward, and bowed his neck, nostrils dilated to take in the scent.
She was frozen, gaping. He quickly glanced around, in case there was a pack of werewolves behind him, or maybe a feral wyvern about to dive. No one.
You're bleeding. How badly are you scratched up?
"Ah. Uh. ... are you talking to me? I mean -- are YOU talking -- oh god."
Askerian blinked. Do you see anyone else around? Maybe she'd hit her head on the way down.
"... Uh. Heh. Ehehehe. No. No, you're right. There's no one else around." She started muttering to herself in that other language again; he only caught a few flashes, a few notions.
... No, I am in fact not a horse. And yes, maybe you should have expected it. He didn't remember wanting to laugh so hard in the last month; his curiosity, though, was stronger than his amusement.
"What -- did I speak in Common again...? I thought I had the trick down -- uh. My apologies..."
This time he snorted, eyes gleaming in amusement. No, you didn't speak in Common.
"So -- wait, you speak French?"
French. He put that word away for later. No, I don't. I'm telepathic. The ground is about to break under my left hind leg, maybe you should get up so we can climb down to the bottom?
"Ack! I'm sorry!" she yelped, and crawled up the slope, away from his leg, stepping on her dress and shredding it a bit more.
He sent her what metahuman friends had termed a mental chuckle; soft warmth and amusement. Relax, it's alright. Slowly, he stepped back down the slope. She seemed to be making her way more carefully this time, and he wasn't patient enough to climb down rump first all the way. His back hoof found a large rock, deeply imbedded in the earth -- good footing. He whirled on his hind legs until he was facing downwards and propelled himself in the slope. In about three half-jumps-half-slides, he was on stable ground again.
"Hey!" the girl protested. He looked up, and... Oops. He'd kicked up a cloud of dust; she was squinting and coughing.
"... I'll give you oopses..." she grumbled as she finally reached the grass.
Sorry, sorry, he sent, unable to keep the note of laughter out of his voice.
"It's alright," she sighed; and glanced at him, blinked, looked confused once again and then jerked her eyes away, as if ashamed to be caught staring. Huh.
You've never seen a unicorn before, I take it? Go ahead, I don't mind. Mostly because when she was staring, he had an excuse to stare back. Besides metahumans never seemed to know where exactly equines were looking. Hah. As if everyone needed two eyes to stare at a precise point.
"You're curly," she blurted out.
Er. Yes.
"Are all unicorns curly? Or a lot of them? Or -- I mean I know some races of horses with weird squiggly hair, but it's all over, not just the mane and tail, and besides it looks like you'd have ringlets if it was combed out and I'm babbling, sorry."
He blinked at her. Several times. And then he stomped his hoof, snorting. That's twice you've called me a horse now. If I wasn't so nice, I might be offended.
"Um. I'm sorry, it's just -- um. Sorry." She winced apologetically -- and maybe a little in pain; her hands were scratched up. "... Is it really that bad?"
It wasn't just the presence of unicorns she wasn't used to, he realized with surprise and fascination. It was the very notion of unicorns.
Well. How would you take if it I called you a monkey?
"... Okay, point. Um. Is there water anywhere close by? I need to wash the dirt out..." she mumbled, showing him her palms. "It's really starting to hurt, and --"
Behind these rocks. There's a stream. Come on, he added, moving slowly back to the trench at the very bottom of the basin. Clear water was running at the bottom. It was a really tiny thing; he could have stepped over it without wetting his hooves.
She knelt at the edge and rinsed out her cuts, wincing and hissing between her clenched teeth. He took the occasion to observe her. In the middle of adolescence, mid-long dark blond hair, reddened blue eyes. Her hands weren't rough, and she wasn't either thin or muscled from hard work. Well-off city girl, then -- as if the dress wasn't enough hint. It would have been appropriate for a party; certainly not for traipsing in the woods. Now it was good for rags and not much else. Sure, it still covered her well enough, but that was it. Her shoes -- okay, these were weird. But at least they looked like they were holding up better than the dress.
She was carrying a backpack in strange colors and a kind of cloth he'd never seen before, oddly smooth and almost shiny; he nosed it, trying to pin down the mix of fibers used for its make, and got back ... nothing that made sense to him. There was some cotton; that was it.
"Um." She looked at him warily, and pulled her pack a bit closer.
... No, I'm not looking for sugar, he commented, straightening up and turning to drink a little. He was crowding her; he didn't want to scare her.
Now she looked alarmed. "There you go again! Can you hear everything I think?"
No, but you were thinking about me. At such close distance, it's enough. He made his words convey his apologies. From the way she was now inching away, it was disturbing her. He hadn't meant to intrude on her privacy. It's only surface thoughts, you know. And you're safe now -- an arm's length is enough.
She mumbled in her language; no, she didn't know. He winced.
Err. When you actually talk, the range expands.
"What, you get a translation?" she yelped, stepping away again.
Askerian winced. She really didn't know anything. How was he supposed to word something that appeared so evident to him?
More or less, he started, weighing his words. It's more notions and attached feelings than actual words, but when you vocalize it... I guess it focuses the message. So it goes farther. Makes sense?
"I suppose," she muttered, in a way that implied that it didn't really, but she was tired enough to drop it.
... Askerian.
"What?"
My name is Askerian, son of Giyar, of Sigarth.
"Ah." She rocked back on her heels, sat on the grass at the edge of the water, and tugged off her weird shoes before putting her feet in the water. "Sigarth... That's your clan?"
My herd, yes.
"I'm Alizea," she said. "... of Guerin, I guess."
No parent's name. And the "I guess". Runaway Noble's daughter, check. But she seemed well of-age to him, certainly too old to be a runaway instead of simply striking out on her own. He'd known fillies younger than that, already heavy with their first foals. Hmm... Maybe she just looked mature for her age. Or maybe he was totally off-base, and this was about Metahuman customs he didn't have a clue about. He shouldn't get ahead of himself.
Where are you going?
She took a moment to think, squinting up at the sun, and pointed to a direction that seemed a bit too vast to him.
Far?
"I don't know... maybe a few days's walk."
He gave her a long dubious look. Alizea... I don't want to sound mean, but there's no village in that direction -- do you know how to camp?
She frowned. "I've camped before. Okay, I had more equipment, but I'll be fine. I'll find a place to sleep and put a protection spell on it. I've got some good ones in here," she added, thumping her bag. He could smell the old paper; she had a grimoire, probably.
Uh huh. It wasn't her shredded dress that would keep her warm at night. And to eat? I'm not sure your bag holds enough food to take you that far. Do you know the plants that are safe to eat?
"... I know a few." Now she was pouting, lower lip jutting out. She looked exhausted, and so young.
Mmh. Do you mind if I make part of the trip with you?
"What -- why?"
Because I'm going that way, and it's no bother. A mage and an unicorn run less risk to be attacked than either one of them alone. Especially a mage who still needed her grimoire for basic spells.
"... You're going that way, eh." She stared him in the eye; he got the thought loud and clear. Not Convinced. He couldn't help but whinny softly in amusement.
Well... Yes. Almost. I don't really have a goal in sight at the moment; I can go wherever I want.
"And you want to come with me. Why?" she asked, then with no reason that he could make out, suddenly flushed a deep red. He nudged her with his nose, puzzled; it only made her yelp and splutter.
...What's being a virgin have to do with it? he asked, bewildered.
"Nothing! Nothing. It's just -- stupid lege -- old wives' tale, forget it. Not important."
He blinked at her. She whimpered, hiding her burning face in her hands.
... Right. Alizea? he prompted her, voice smooth, understanding and utterly gentle.
"Yeah?" She looked up finally, still flustered.
I assure you, it's entirely a matter of personal preference.
It was hard to make a mental tone sound like a false leer, but somehow he managed.
"... HEY!"
Neighing out a laugh, he dodged her swat, hopping over the stream, and trotted around to her other side, prancing his way back to the other bank.
"... Brat."
Hey, I'm older than you. Well, probably, he amended. Some people from the winged species lived a really long time.
"Even if I was a kid compared to you, I don't see why you'd care about what I do," she mumbled, still sulking. "I'm old enough, am I not?"
Why can't it be because I'd feel guilty if you died of hunger or got eaten by a werewolf? he replied, gently mocking. I just don't like the thought of leaving a girl like you alone in these woods.
"A girl like me? You -- hn. Macho prick," she grumbled.
Oh, because you actually can hunt and gather food for yourself and make perfectly safe and comfortable tents with the contents of your bag! Yes, of course, how silly of me.
She blushed, and glowered. "...okay, I suck at that. It still doesn't have much to do with me being a girl."
Ah -- with her round ears and white magic, he'd thought that she was of angelic descent, with maybe some elf; they tended to have rather defined gender roles. But the "equality of abilities" thing sounded more demonic to him. And a Faerie would have been a lot more offended; they hade a female-dominated society. How strange. If you say so. I'm still coming with you.
"But -- Oh, fine, whatever." Now she looked guilty. He wondered why. Maybe for letting him convince her so quickly. Heh -- more pride than common sense. That reminded him of the young stallions back home. Except she was very much not a stallion. Kind of... smaller. And more curvy. He felt guilty all of two seconds, then shrugged it off. Maybe mentally she was still a bit too young, but her body was just old enough; there wasn't any harm in looking.
"All right, Goldilocks."
What did you call me? He replied, startled.
"Goldilocks," she replied, smiling innocently at him. He wasn't fooled one second.
Hey, he warned her, ears flicking back.
"What? You have pretty hair."
He tossed his mane over his shoulder, ears flattened on his neck. You don't mock the hair, little girl. Or else I'll probably forget to watch where I put my hooves.
"Ooh, I'm scared," she replied, and flicked water at him before bending to put her shoes back on.
Where did you get them? he asked, curious.
"Ah -- a vendor, on a market. I don't know where he got them from."
She was avoiding looking at him. He'd always been told that he was horrible at lying, but it looked like the girl was worse. Heh.
We still have a few hours of sunlight, he said, deciding to be charitable. So, where to?
"Wait, I have to check..." She pulled her grimoire out of her bag, opened it and started muttering a spell. He looked over her shoulder. His own magic wasn't so formulaic; it was always interesting to see how codified the metahumans made theirs. But then, Earth responded to heartfelt pleas and pressing need a lot better than it responded to commands.
A glowing spark appeared between her hands, and suddenly dashed off. It had melted in about ten steps, but that was enough to give them a general direction. He thought about what he knew of the ground. They could follow the canyon a bit, and then climb out and go left; it would be easier than trying to follow a straight path.
Alright. Let me get my stuff and we can go.
He trotted off to the boulder by which he had hidden his bag, slipping his horn in one of the two large straps, and swung it over. He'd been practicing for years; by now he knew the exact force he needed to apply to make it land across his back. He let the first strap slide past his head and settle around his neck, and gently nudged the flax elementals to reshape them. The firs strap thickened and tightened a little around his neck; the second strap dissolved and reformed around his ribs, just behind his front legs. It looked like a harness; he didn't care, so long as his stuff didn't spill on the ground or bump into his knees.
"... Wow. How did you do that -- wait, don't tell me. Magic," she added, before he could say anything. He batted his eyelashes at her innocently; she swatted him on the shoulder, though so carefully that he barely felt it. "I mean, I've never seen something reshape itself quite like that."
He started walking, slowly, to let her set the pace. Unicorns are elementalists -- we use the spirits of things. In this case, flax, which gives linen. Or I could have used cotton, but it's not as resilient.
"Anything?"
Nah, just Earth-based stuff. Plants -- grass and trees... Granite, sand, loose earth...
"Compost?"
He snorted. Yeeeeah. Though that's... Not really that useful. Hey, want an apple?
She looked at him, eyes a little wide; he pulled energy from the Earth under his hooves to call up the right elemental. He had a few seeds in his bag; it made things a lot easier. Gimme your hands, he said, and it sounded like a grin.
She obeyed, still a little dubious, and yelped when the apple fell into her hands.
"... Wow. And it's... Safe to eat? It's not --"
It tastes good, and it will feed you just fine, he replied, pretending to be offended.
"Wow. No need to run all over looking for stuff to eat, then," she commented, turning the fruit in her hands.
He couldn't help it, he tossed his hair again. Well, it still wastes some magic. So in the end, you need the apple to replace the energy you've lost making it. But it's kind of neat when you have a craving for just the right type of grass and there isn't any around.
"You're showing off," she commented with a small grin as she bit into the apple.
Me? He replied, arching his neck in false offense. Never.
+
... oh. god. they're being CUTE. XD
hokay so this is actually not the start of the story per se, but it's the first time Askerian appears -- end of book 2. (THIS IS NOT THE ACTUAL START OF THE STORY. XD) Since it's all his POV, there isn't as much of a sense of "wtf where's the beginning?".
... i think so, at least.
And yay, Alizea is much less Sue-ish this time around. ^_______^
The swearing caught his attention, as much because it was in a language he couldn't place as because the girl sounded about to break down in tears. He looked up, ears swiveling as he tried to pinpoint the source.
Finding it really wasn't hard; the noise of broken branches and ruffled leaves wasn't subtle in the least, and the muttered curses kept going in crescendo. Askerian winced. Sure, they weren't far from one of the main roads leading to Pandemonium, but civilization was still miles away; being so noisy in the forest wasn't advisable. Her magic, now that he was looking for it, wasn't weak, but badly shielded and wavering erratically. It wasn't going to discourage lots of people from attacking.
Upset, and young. Barely trained. Great.
He moved up the slope, careful to place his hooves; the ground wasn't hard enough for him to trust his three-fourths of a ton's worth of flesh and bones without thinking.
City girl, check. He flattened his ears back on his neck. There she was, skidding down the slope on her heels and butt, in the middle of a small avalanche of loose rocks and earth, shedding shreds of her dress on the way. Valiantly resisting the uncharitable urge to laugh, he braced himself.
"OhfuckfuckfuckfuckOHMYGOD--" thump. "...ow."
She looked up, blue eyes huge and stunned.
"Oh, shiiit."
Now that was Common, no doubt about that, but the way her lips moved, as if trying for other words -- it was quite possibly not her first language. He didn't think he'd ever heard the one she'd been speaking at the beginning, and wondered where she was from; she looked blonde and pale enough to be from around here. Mm, mystery.
Hey there. Are you alright? he asked, ears flicking forward, and bowed his neck, nostrils dilated to take in the scent.
She was frozen, gaping. He quickly glanced around, in case there was a pack of werewolves behind him, or maybe a feral wyvern about to dive. No one.
You're bleeding. How badly are you scratched up?
"Ah. Uh. ... are you talking to me? I mean -- are YOU talking -- oh god."
Askerian blinked. Do you see anyone else around? Maybe she'd hit her head on the way down.
"... Uh. Heh. Ehehehe. No. No, you're right. There's no one else around." She started muttering to herself in that other language again; he only caught a few flashes, a few notions.
... No, I am in fact not a horse. And yes, maybe you should have expected it. He didn't remember wanting to laugh so hard in the last month; his curiosity, though, was stronger than his amusement.
"What -- did I speak in Common again...? I thought I had the trick down -- uh. My apologies..."
This time he snorted, eyes gleaming in amusement. No, you didn't speak in Common.
"So -- wait, you speak French?"
French. He put that word away for later. No, I don't. I'm telepathic. The ground is about to break under my left hind leg, maybe you should get up so we can climb down to the bottom?
"Ack! I'm sorry!" she yelped, and crawled up the slope, away from his leg, stepping on her dress and shredding it a bit more.
He sent her what metahuman friends had termed a mental chuckle; soft warmth and amusement. Relax, it's alright. Slowly, he stepped back down the slope. She seemed to be making her way more carefully this time, and he wasn't patient enough to climb down rump first all the way. His back hoof found a large rock, deeply imbedded in the earth -- good footing. He whirled on his hind legs until he was facing downwards and propelled himself in the slope. In about three half-jumps-half-slides, he was on stable ground again.
"Hey!" the girl protested. He looked up, and... Oops. He'd kicked up a cloud of dust; she was squinting and coughing.
"... I'll give you oopses..." she grumbled as she finally reached the grass.
Sorry, sorry, he sent, unable to keep the note of laughter out of his voice.
"It's alright," she sighed; and glanced at him, blinked, looked confused once again and then jerked her eyes away, as if ashamed to be caught staring. Huh.
You've never seen a unicorn before, I take it? Go ahead, I don't mind. Mostly because when she was staring, he had an excuse to stare back. Besides metahumans never seemed to know where exactly equines were looking. Hah. As if everyone needed two eyes to stare at a precise point.
"You're curly," she blurted out.
Er. Yes.
"Are all unicorns curly? Or a lot of them? Or -- I mean I know some races of horses with weird squiggly hair, but it's all over, not just the mane and tail, and besides it looks like you'd have ringlets if it was combed out and I'm babbling, sorry."
He blinked at her. Several times. And then he stomped his hoof, snorting. That's twice you've called me a horse now. If I wasn't so nice, I might be offended.
"Um. I'm sorry, it's just -- um. Sorry." She winced apologetically -- and maybe a little in pain; her hands were scratched up. "... Is it really that bad?"
It wasn't just the presence of unicorns she wasn't used to, he realized with surprise and fascination. It was the very notion of unicorns.
Well. How would you take if it I called you a monkey?
"... Okay, point. Um. Is there water anywhere close by? I need to wash the dirt out..." she mumbled, showing him her palms. "It's really starting to hurt, and --"
Behind these rocks. There's a stream. Come on, he added, moving slowly back to the trench at the very bottom of the basin. Clear water was running at the bottom. It was a really tiny thing; he could have stepped over it without wetting his hooves.
She knelt at the edge and rinsed out her cuts, wincing and hissing between her clenched teeth. He took the occasion to observe her. In the middle of adolescence, mid-long dark blond hair, reddened blue eyes. Her hands weren't rough, and she wasn't either thin or muscled from hard work. Well-off city girl, then -- as if the dress wasn't enough hint. It would have been appropriate for a party; certainly not for traipsing in the woods. Now it was good for rags and not much else. Sure, it still covered her well enough, but that was it. Her shoes -- okay, these were weird. But at least they looked like they were holding up better than the dress.
She was carrying a backpack in strange colors and a kind of cloth he'd never seen before, oddly smooth and almost shiny; he nosed it, trying to pin down the mix of fibers used for its make, and got back ... nothing that made sense to him. There was some cotton; that was it.
"Um." She looked at him warily, and pulled her pack a bit closer.
... No, I'm not looking for sugar, he commented, straightening up and turning to drink a little. He was crowding her; he didn't want to scare her.
Now she looked alarmed. "There you go again! Can you hear everything I think?"
No, but you were thinking about me. At such close distance, it's enough. He made his words convey his apologies. From the way she was now inching away, it was disturbing her. He hadn't meant to intrude on her privacy. It's only surface thoughts, you know. And you're safe now -- an arm's length is enough.
She mumbled in her language; no, she didn't know. He winced.
Err. When you actually talk, the range expands.
"What, you get a translation?" she yelped, stepping away again.
Askerian winced. She really didn't know anything. How was he supposed to word something that appeared so evident to him?
More or less, he started, weighing his words. It's more notions and attached feelings than actual words, but when you vocalize it... I guess it focuses the message. So it goes farther. Makes sense?
"I suppose," she muttered, in a way that implied that it didn't really, but she was tired enough to drop it.
... Askerian.
"What?"
My name is Askerian, son of Giyar, of Sigarth.
"Ah." She rocked back on her heels, sat on the grass at the edge of the water, and tugged off her weird shoes before putting her feet in the water. "Sigarth... That's your clan?"
My herd, yes.
"I'm Alizea," she said. "... of Guerin, I guess."
No parent's name. And the "I guess". Runaway Noble's daughter, check. But she seemed well of-age to him, certainly too old to be a runaway instead of simply striking out on her own. He'd known fillies younger than that, already heavy with their first foals. Hmm... Maybe she just looked mature for her age. Or maybe he was totally off-base, and this was about Metahuman customs he didn't have a clue about. He shouldn't get ahead of himself.
Where are you going?
She took a moment to think, squinting up at the sun, and pointed to a direction that seemed a bit too vast to him.
Far?
"I don't know... maybe a few days's walk."
He gave her a long dubious look. Alizea... I don't want to sound mean, but there's no village in that direction -- do you know how to camp?
She frowned. "I've camped before. Okay, I had more equipment, but I'll be fine. I'll find a place to sleep and put a protection spell on it. I've got some good ones in here," she added, thumping her bag. He could smell the old paper; she had a grimoire, probably.
Uh huh. It wasn't her shredded dress that would keep her warm at night. And to eat? I'm not sure your bag holds enough food to take you that far. Do you know the plants that are safe to eat?
"... I know a few." Now she was pouting, lower lip jutting out. She looked exhausted, and so young.
Mmh. Do you mind if I make part of the trip with you?
"What -- why?"
Because I'm going that way, and it's no bother. A mage and an unicorn run less risk to be attacked than either one of them alone. Especially a mage who still needed her grimoire for basic spells.
"... You're going that way, eh." She stared him in the eye; he got the thought loud and clear. Not Convinced. He couldn't help but whinny softly in amusement.
Well... Yes. Almost. I don't really have a goal in sight at the moment; I can go wherever I want.
"And you want to come with me. Why?" she asked, then with no reason that he could make out, suddenly flushed a deep red. He nudged her with his nose, puzzled; it only made her yelp and splutter.
...What's being a virgin have to do with it? he asked, bewildered.
"Nothing! Nothing. It's just -- stupid lege -- old wives' tale, forget it. Not important."
He blinked at her. She whimpered, hiding her burning face in her hands.
... Right. Alizea? he prompted her, voice smooth, understanding and utterly gentle.
"Yeah?" She looked up finally, still flustered.
I assure you, it's entirely a matter of personal preference.
It was hard to make a mental tone sound like a false leer, but somehow he managed.
"... HEY!"
Neighing out a laugh, he dodged her swat, hopping over the stream, and trotted around to her other side, prancing his way back to the other bank.
"... Brat."
Hey, I'm older than you. Well, probably, he amended. Some people from the winged species lived a really long time.
"Even if I was a kid compared to you, I don't see why you'd care about what I do," she mumbled, still sulking. "I'm old enough, am I not?"
Why can't it be because I'd feel guilty if you died of hunger or got eaten by a werewolf? he replied, gently mocking. I just don't like the thought of leaving a girl like you alone in these woods.
"A girl like me? You -- hn. Macho prick," she grumbled.
Oh, because you actually can hunt and gather food for yourself and make perfectly safe and comfortable tents with the contents of your bag! Yes, of course, how silly of me.
She blushed, and glowered. "...okay, I suck at that. It still doesn't have much to do with me being a girl."
Ah -- with her round ears and white magic, he'd thought that she was of angelic descent, with maybe some elf; they tended to have rather defined gender roles. But the "equality of abilities" thing sounded more demonic to him. And a Faerie would have been a lot more offended; they hade a female-dominated society. How strange. If you say so. I'm still coming with you.
"But -- Oh, fine, whatever." Now she looked guilty. He wondered why. Maybe for letting him convince her so quickly. Heh -- more pride than common sense. That reminded him of the young stallions back home. Except she was very much not a stallion. Kind of... smaller. And more curvy. He felt guilty all of two seconds, then shrugged it off. Maybe mentally she was still a bit too young, but her body was just old enough; there wasn't any harm in looking.
"All right, Goldilocks."
What did you call me? He replied, startled.
"Goldilocks," she replied, smiling innocently at him. He wasn't fooled one second.
Hey, he warned her, ears flicking back.
"What? You have pretty hair."
He tossed his mane over his shoulder, ears flattened on his neck. You don't mock the hair, little girl. Or else I'll probably forget to watch where I put my hooves.
"Ooh, I'm scared," she replied, and flicked water at him before bending to put her shoes back on.
Where did you get them? he asked, curious.
"Ah -- a vendor, on a market. I don't know where he got them from."
She was avoiding looking at him. He'd always been told that he was horrible at lying, but it looked like the girl was worse. Heh.
We still have a few hours of sunlight, he said, deciding to be charitable. So, where to?
"Wait, I have to check..." She pulled her grimoire out of her bag, opened it and started muttering a spell. He looked over her shoulder. His own magic wasn't so formulaic; it was always interesting to see how codified the metahumans made theirs. But then, Earth responded to heartfelt pleas and pressing need a lot better than it responded to commands.
A glowing spark appeared between her hands, and suddenly dashed off. It had melted in about ten steps, but that was enough to give them a general direction. He thought about what he knew of the ground. They could follow the canyon a bit, and then climb out and go left; it would be easier than trying to follow a straight path.
Alright. Let me get my stuff and we can go.
He trotted off to the boulder by which he had hidden his bag, slipping his horn in one of the two large straps, and swung it over. He'd been practicing for years; by now he knew the exact force he needed to apply to make it land across his back. He let the first strap slide past his head and settle around his neck, and gently nudged the flax elementals to reshape them. The firs strap thickened and tightened a little around his neck; the second strap dissolved and reformed around his ribs, just behind his front legs. It looked like a harness; he didn't care, so long as his stuff didn't spill on the ground or bump into his knees.
"... Wow. How did you do that -- wait, don't tell me. Magic," she added, before he could say anything. He batted his eyelashes at her innocently; she swatted him on the shoulder, though so carefully that he barely felt it. "I mean, I've never seen something reshape itself quite like that."
He started walking, slowly, to let her set the pace. Unicorns are elementalists -- we use the spirits of things. In this case, flax, which gives linen. Or I could have used cotton, but it's not as resilient.
"Anything?"
Nah, just Earth-based stuff. Plants -- grass and trees... Granite, sand, loose earth...
"Compost?"
He snorted. Yeeeeah. Though that's... Not really that useful. Hey, want an apple?
She looked at him, eyes a little wide; he pulled energy from the Earth under his hooves to call up the right elemental. He had a few seeds in his bag; it made things a lot easier. Gimme your hands, he said, and it sounded like a grin.
She obeyed, still a little dubious, and yelped when the apple fell into her hands.
"... Wow. And it's... Safe to eat? It's not --"
It tastes good, and it will feed you just fine, he replied, pretending to be offended.
"Wow. No need to run all over looking for stuff to eat, then," she commented, turning the fruit in her hands.
He couldn't help it, he tossed his hair again. Well, it still wastes some magic. So in the end, you need the apple to replace the energy you've lost making it. But it's kind of neat when you have a craving for just the right type of grass and there isn't any around.
"You're showing off," she commented with a small grin as she bit into the apple.
Me? He replied, arching his neck in false offense. Never.
+
... oh. god. they're being CUTE. XD
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yay! Just...yay!
I love this! I really, really do! <3<3<3
The interaction between the two characters is just so very cute! I would love to see more of this world ^____^
I really love how little explanations of how the world works are thrown in here and there, so that it is revealed slowly and leaves the reader wanting to know more. My favorite example is:
Ah -- with her round ears and white magic, he'd thought that she was of angelic descent, with maybe some elf; they tended to have rather defined gender roles. But the "equality of abilities" thing sounded more demonic to him. And a Faerie would have been a lot more offended; they hade a female-dominated society. How strange. If you say so. I'm still coming with you.
Such an interesting story! *goes back to babbling incoherently about how neat it is*
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hehe ^^ i might end up cutting a bit of the exposition once i write the beginning, because people will probably already know that -- though it might be useful to leave reminders. *pondering*
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- good detail on Alizea (had to go back and look it up) injuries, but I've fallen that badly, and there's considerable limping, too. (Multiply by two to five powers for the second day, as aches/muscle tears kick in.)
- names: Alizea, Askerian, the As have me confused. Maybe if you gave her a nickname, or had her suggest one, with a different starting-letter? Having both As while I'm learning them blinkers me.
- Askerian: while he seems okay, I can't see any reason he'd go check out the girl and see if she's okay. Part of this is because you're knocking down other traditional unicorn rules (virgins, etc), and it leaves me uncertain whether he's a) just a Nice Guy, b) a plant for Bad Guy and/or Conflict Bringer, or c) bored.
- if Alizea is going after something, then her situation needs to be either urgent, or unavoidable. And I can see what you've got is similar to my first drafts: someone who's out to do a task but it's not necessarily a Right This Moment, and so they don't propel the story forward with urgency except where external circumstances push them. If Alizea is just taking a trek for, say, a vision quest, then she'd be approaching it with a different attitude than I read here. If she's a runaway of some sort, she's a bit too accepting of Askerian (wouldn't she be suspicious of someone's motives, even if eventually she decides better to keep him around so he doesn't sneak off an tell someone she's there?)
- lastly, it wasn't clear how much Ali knows. Aske decides she's city, but she's a mage, and he's explaining stuff to her -- should she already know this? what's the extent of her knowledge? what if she opened a notebook and started jotting down his explanations -- as opposed to scoffing at what he says and calling it unimportant or too basic to be worth her time? or maybe just shrugging and not really paying attention? ...each of those might give us more hints as to what she's doing falling down a mountain in a party dress.
ffffft, all these things are easier to deal with once the story's done and it's time to revise; then you can see the big picture and have a better idea of what will and won't work, and where to add foreshadowing or remove it. keep writing. more draft!
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Hm, since this is a scene from the middle of the story, the reader should already know what zea knows. But yeah, askerian doesn't. so. hm. there should be a bit more "okay, she knows this and yet she doesn't know that? how weird."
(she lived a bit with a family of demons, but half the time she was inside the house being bored, so. *ponderponderponder*)
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however, since it's Askerian's POV, wouldn't he still be asking these questions?
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The adorable is very strong with these two together. I'm curious how Alizea balances with the other characters.
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With ashram she bickers a lot and then has hawt making out. He pokes and prods her, but he's also very possessive. he's going to go RARRR on askerian because "WTF MINE, BITCH." Even though Askerian is only flirting because he'd flirt with a wall. if the wall was a girl wall. Alizea always reacts fully to everything ashram says or does, even when she knows he's only baiting her. one moment he'll be sweet, the next a brat, the next "oh fuck, i forgot he was a demon", but in the end, she kind of like that he's so jealous over her. She tends to equate it with love, and she craves it -- even though he starts actually loving her a lot later than she assumes he did. ^^; (oh wow, i better be careful not to make this into an abusive relationship XD)
With Reiyel -- hm. they can talk about philosophy, or he can hit on her -- the relationship is a bit colder, so she doesn't explode, she tends to go "uh-huh. rrright. no." at him. Often also he loses interest, so he only pretends he's paying attention or even he just cuts it short and takes his leave. He finds her amusing enough to talk with when he's not busy having sex, but he really doesn't care all that much. she's an acquaintance, not a friend; she only matters because she matters to ashram, and even then, not a lot.
With fenris -- well, she's the brand new center of his universe. he resents her just a tiny bit for taking him away, but mostly he's resigned and resolved to do everything he can for her, because if he doesn't he's useless and if he's useless she's going to discard him and then he'll have to kill himself. (yay cheerful. XD) the utter devotion makes her uneasy. It's too absolute; she wants to treat him like a little brother, even though she never had one and isn't sure what to do with one -- that confuses him. she cuddles him sometimes, but he tends to freeze in place and suffer in silence. he doesn't like being touched all that much.
Drao is an empty, boring, spineless character just there to ease the way and thus doesn't matter so much. I'm thinking of getting rid of him anyway. whee.
Ashram and Askerian have the whole GRR-me-big-alpha-male thing going on. Ashram and Fenris too, but a bit less since he's not even physically 14 and not really competition; alizea just sees him as a little brother, thus it doesn't matter as much if he's always hanging around her. Askerian and Fenris -- ouchies. With them though it's not really personal -- it's just the fact that werewolves eat unicorns, and unicorns kill werewolves as a rite of passage. So yeah. Fenfen is a kid, sure, but he's a kid with very sharp teeth, so Askerian tends to keep him in sight. ... weirdly though, he tends to take his defense when Alizea gets angry at Fenris for doing wolf stuff. yay for being unable to stand unfairness, even when it's against someone he doesn't like XD
And uh drao watches, and offers wise advice, and. um. he cooks.
yeah, he's getting kicked out.
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One thing I was wondering during this, though, is why is Askerian wandering around in the middle of the wilderness with an apparently fully-stocked travel pack and no destination in mind? Was he going somewhere, and it wasn't so urgent that he couldn't put it off? Does he often go off to the middle of nowhere on his own for fun? Do his friends and/or family know where he is/what he's doing? What does his herd think of all this? It's just sort of odd to see a really useful, knowledgeable character spring fully formed out of nowhere at the most convenient possible time.
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Askerian is the kind of guy who can't walk by a lost kitten without finding someone to keep it =__=;;; (he does have bad sides, like a temper from hell, suicidal curiosity, and EWW GAY EWW, but overall he's a nice guy)
you're right, though, he decides to go with her a bit fast. Hm. Maybe I should add that he doesn't feel he has a choice since she's so incompetent she'll probably get herself killed in under three days. *ponders*
he doesn't stay with her all that long the first time, just walks her to her goal, and then he has a good reason to come back in the plot. ("WHEE WHOLE NEW WORLD TO EXPLORE. WANNA GOOO." XD)
As for the no-destination thing, he was lying. Kinda. He's. uh. a bard? but without the singing. he goes around, collects and tells stories and news and legends, and then goes to the next village/settlement/tribe and does it again. He has no real schedule, and only the loosest route in mind.
He has lots of good friends, but of the kind he sees maybe three times a year. Close friends, not as much. At the moment he's kind of not welcome with his herd, so that's not a problem either. XD
though -- well, i know all that, but you're right, of course. that's some good luck she has. Will find a way to make it less horribly coincidental in the next draft, thank you ^___^
(in the first version askerian had a crush on her, and they spilled their life stories to each other in under ten minutes. around a camp fire. =__= like. no.)
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And so long as you know all that stuff about him, and had some way in mind to tell the readers in the future, it's all good. You can't explain everything about the characters in the first twenty minutes (unless they're really crappy characters), I just thought I'd point out what felt a little off.
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I like the unicorn earth-elemental-spirit magic thing- heck, the whole worldbuilding glipses are cool. I like those :)
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^__^ *cuddlelick*
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Askerian is sort of a cocky bastard, isn't he? hehe. he makes me giggle. and Alizea is all "uhhh...whut?" when it comes to roughing it, but she's still got a snarky charm, yanno.
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Pitié, PITIE en français aussi? Tu sais que j'adore cette histoire hein? Et que j'ai sauté de joie en sachant que tu la reprenais et que j'aime toujours autant les persos hein dis dis dis?
(et que je m'améliore en anglais mais pas assez pour lire une histoire correctement je le crains)
.... T____T