A Heartfelt Next to the Hearth

[mmat 7460]

 

“Our curse is not to live forever, it’s the mistakes we have the chance to make in that time.” - Khaine Csarathaire

 

The melodic crackling of sticks and twigs on a fire, it was a sound that came as the most harmonic music to the Elf’s ears and caused a slight smile to materialise on his exhausted face. The flames had always made such a noise in his past life in Atlas, a life to which he now desperately sought to return. Flooding him with such a sensation upon his entry to the dimly lit establishment caused time to go slower than it usually did for the man, who was of course ancient when compared to his majority human counterparts he now inhabited the building with.

 

“Good evening stranger, not often I see kin of mine around these parts.” A strangely familiar and melodic voice of a woman echoed across the open room, as if there were something sisterly and distinctly Elven about it. As if his name had been shouted Khaine’s eyes darted through the dull candle-lit tavern towards the bar’s rear, looking for the one that had addressed him - empty.

“Over here!” it sounded again as the Csarathaire became more attuned to the light level in the strange inn, blinking slowly as he did. It was clear the place was only sparsely used; two obviously human common-looking men talked quietly at one end of the bar, each sat on a small stool and drinking a cup of ale each. There were some others closer toward the door but his vision never reached them, as a graceful looking hand wave coming from in front of the gently raging fire attracted his attention first. As soon as his eyes met those of the wave’s origin his brows rose suddenly in some surprise.. Another Mali’ame? He questioned, somewhat in disbelief.

 

Feeling uncharacteristically at ease almost immediately upon seeing the fellow Elf’s demeanor and attire, Khaine nodded in acknowledgement and strode forward with a smile of relief on his rugged face, moving to sit on the fur carpet almost next to the green-clad daughter of Malin. She lay propped almost playfully on her side with one leg folded over the other, looking up at the new arrival with some obvious relief of her own. Covering her form was a long green dress which enveloped her entire body up to the neck, as through revealing anything to the air around her might cause poisoning. Looking at this fresh daughter of The Father made the wanderer Khaine feel quite at home again, full of life as though he had never left and been abducted in the first place. This Elfess was the first real glance he had snuck of the motherland and its people for over two decades, and provoked a reaction in him similar to that a puppy whose much loved owner had just returned from a long voyage. She was undoubtedly beautiful in appearance, with dark brown hair which hung perfectly over her shoulders. Her eyes, a piercing deep-forest green, gazed into his and seemed to judge his soul as they did. The more he looked upon her, the more he seemed to surreally notice her subtle and wise beauty.

 

“Not often I see them either..” he returned with a smile which betrayed his obvious happiness at his discovery, while his words showed a depressing lack of inspiration on what to say. “I’ve been on a long journey, away from home for a long time.” he elaborated on his initial statement before getting comfortable on the turf before the hearth. In a gesture that seemed to have been coming for quite a while, he inhaled and let out an audibly fed up sigh towards the flames, eyes fixed on the crackling sparks which jumped up from time to time.

 

“It seems you have.” the woman observed, giving him a once over. “Is anyone special waiting for you there?” the lady asked tenderly, shuffling to rest on her knees and bringing herself up to his level. Yet she did not smile, as if the question was anticipated to have a sad answer. At this point the tavern was completely empty aside from the two Elves gossipping by the fire, the other patrons having trickled out gradually over the previous few minutes - it was past midnight after all. As the woman’s new conversational partner opened his mouth to speak, she interrupted him swiftly. “Tell you what stranger, I’ll close up a little early and we can talk over a few drinks. Then you can sleep on there, looks like you need a place to stay” she rose fluidly, as though an unseen force had briefly removed gravity’s hold on her; an uncanny trait of Elven women, Khaine considered to himself pensively. What he also considered was the woman’s height, she was significantly taller than himself now she stood aloft, even with no shoes on her feet. Rushing to lock the door before any more late night taverngoers could enter, the woman had almost vaulted the bar and threw a rusty keyring toward the Csarathaire, who was now rising from his fluffy seat. “Catch, stranger!”

 

“Thanks” he chuckled, as if expressing gratitude was like prying blood from a particularly dry stone; and concurrently raising his hand to ****** the flying keyring from the air. With a tired groan he dragged himself across to the entrance door and locked it shut, before tossing the keys back to his host and retreating to the makeshift carpet nest he had taken to so quickly. “And yes, I believe a great many are waiting for me, friends, family.” his voice was one of a solemn longing, though something in it was not sure its goal would ever be reached. “Twenty years... I can barely remember how old I am..”

 

“You too?” the woman responded with a voice that seemed distinctly unsurprised at the revelation. “I’ve noticed it’s my contact mainly with humans that makes my mind fade a little.” she then mimicked Khaine’s characteristic solemness expertly, following his tone and his facial expression of object sadness. “Last time I saw another of my own children was years ago, though I couldn’t tell you how many, time becomes unimportant when you’ve got as much as I have.”  as she finished speaking in her musical tones, she let a warm motherly smile form on her face.

 

Looking to the fire, the Phoenix-tattoo’d Wood Elf held his hands out towards the fire and gazed into it in the same manner as his companion had judged him earlier, as if he were trying to gauge some truth from the scorching flames. None came, and so he withdrew his hands.

 

“You have experienced hardship now, Khaine Csarathaire, we expect great things from you.

 

Hearing the sudden change in tone, he turned too slowly and, though his hands were now warm his travelling companion had disappeared while his vision acclimatised once again to the dim tavern, rather than the raging fire. Though double taking, he looked once again into the flames and witnessed with weary eyes the shadow of a fiery bird rising from the embers.

 

 

“I need rest.”

[Guest]

Kairn Ithelanen sat crosslegged before an idol in the Keep of Viralondë, a pensive expression resting on his features – painfully serene and observant compared to how he looked in years past. 

 

  “Oh, how I miss those days.. To ride off in glory when sacking a settlement, to bring unity to a downtrodden and oppressed people. Perhaps someday my comrade Csarathaire will return to me, and we will raid, reave and pillage the lands of degenerates once again. O’Mother, O’Father, when will you return to me my greatest friend?”

[blago 1602]

Cassius nods

[osumanduas 1442]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

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