Secrets of Magic (Caehlim & Lyria)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Caehlim on 11-12-2007, 18:29:25</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Secrets of Magic (Caehlim &amp; Lyria)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Caehlim</strong> on <strong>11-12-2007, 18:29:25</strong>
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				For a wizard, a tower was essential in a way most common folk never understood. High above the world a wizard's focus and consciousness could expand without the restrictions of walls, the power of the skies and the secrets of birds lay open to a mage when they were atop the world. Feeling the same instinctive need, Jaleren had taken the ruins of an old family home belonging once to his great grandfather and with great care and equal parts magic and devotion rebuilt it to fit his needs. The first addition was a high platform where he could stand and bask in the element of air or study the stars to seek the future.<br><br>Many complained at first, that the house was not his, nor the noble title to deserve such a manor. Born illegitimately to a nobleman's wife he had no native claim to any of the luxuries he filled his life with. Yet his magic was powerful, respected and feared. So to his face men would call him Lord Jaleren, sometimes even adding the name of his mother's husband's clan to call him Lord Jaleren Hawkmoon while behind his back they cursed him as the Bastard and whispered rumours about him. The people had speculated on the precise sexual daliances of his mother with mystic creatures that could have resulted in the birth of such a gifted mage his entire life. <br><br>Once, a story goes, Jaleren discovered the spell that many wizards master early which lets them hear their own name whenever it is spoken and overhear what is said about them in secret or in shadow. Some say he refused to learn it, that his heart could not bear to overhear such things. Others say that he did learn the spell and that it is the reason he moved alone far into the country where he wouldn't have to return the politeness of those who whispered behind his back.<br><br>All this brings us to the start of another story, which begins with Jaleren standing high atop a tower, alone on his estate. It had been many decades since he left the city that once was his home, yet his form remained unaged, perpetually in its prime. There were no traces of grey to his black hair, only a mysterious touch of blue behind his left ear. His eyes would sparkle blue when he was happy or fade to a weary grey when he cried. They were often grey. His desire for solitude had slowly changed to loneliness, yet he had no desire to return to the life of rumour and sorrow he had found in the cities. So each day he ate alone and worked alone, with only spells and summoned creatures to work alongside him.<br><br>Then that one day, upon his tower, Jaleren felt a whisper in the wind as the spirits that played in the gusts spoke to him. Someone approached his home. Hopeful that the loneliness gnawing at his soul could be abated he ran down to his rooms to dress in his most impressive garments, getting ready to meet this visitor whoever they might be.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Secrets of Magic (Caehlim &amp; Lyria)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lyria</strong> on <strong>19-12-2007, 07:32:20</strong>
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				Her lungs burned, as did her throat. Alana collapsed onto a fallen log and noisily sucked in air through her delicate nose, trying to catch her breath. She had been moving at a quick pace for hours…how many, she did not know. Her body told her it had to be quite a few. Not only was her chest aching, but her legs burned from the exertion, her simple cotton peasant‘s dress soaked with perspiration, and her feet were numb. But before her feet were numb, they had been pained. She knew there were blisters…bad ones.<br><br>She leaned forward, resting her fine features in her hands, her long dark brown hair cascading down around her arms. She grit her teeth as she felt more tears welling in her bright green eyes.<br><br><em>Stop it…don’t cry…</em><br><br>Stubborn as she was, she didn’t listen to herself, and the tears washed down her dirty cheeks, leaving porcelain trails in the grime. But the tears were silent, the sobs held at bay.<br><br>After several minutes of sitting and breathing and crying, Alana sat up straighter, looking around at the woods that seemed so normal. Trees, squirrels, poison ivy…but it hadn’t taken her long to realize that the further she had fled into the woods, the stranger things had become. There were rumors and legends that surrounded these woods, but she hadn’t had the luxury of taking them into consideration as she had fled. <br><br>Now that she had gained some sort of control over herself, Alana could hear water, a soft bubbling of a creek. She rose again to her feet and winced, almost collapsing. The pain had returned during her rest, it felt like a thousand hot needles were poking her feet over and over. Her sandals had rubbed her skin raw, and the leather was sticking to her flesh in several spots. <br><br>Alana cried out quietly and dropped to her knees to crawl. It was too painful to walk. She made her way towards the sound of the water, down a slight incline, and spied the bubbling brook.<br><br>“Thank the gods…”<br><br>She knelt by the creek and splashed cool water over her face and hands and arms, washing the dirt from her skin. Once she felt almost clean, she leaned forward and scooped a palmful of water towards her face to drink. It was fresh and sweet and clear, and rejuvenated her spirit as much as her body. <br><br>Alana sat on the cool ground and listened to her heart beat in her ears. Her feet burned and stung and throbbed in echo of the beat in her head. The pulse reverberated through her body and she concentrated on it, feeling it, and letting it distract her from the pain and the denied fear. It was hypnotic. She leaned back against another fallen log…just to relax for a moment.<br><br>How long had passed she wasn’t sure, but it was long enough that she was startled out of a light doze by a butterfly that alit on the back of the hand resting on her abdomen. It was a soft feather touch, just a tickle, but she had been aware enough and on edge enough that she felt it. Her lashes fluttered open, the movement similar to that of the wings of the butterfly that had awoken her, and her leaf green eyes fell on the pretty winged creature.<br><br>The smile that crossed her lips was delicate, natural, and a bit sad. She’d had a thing for butterflies when she was little, back before her father’s death and her mother’s remarriage. Back when things had been good and happy, before her step father took over. In her young mind she had wanted to protect the butterflies...they were too soft and fragile to be a part of her once her step father changed her mother and things turned sad. So she abandoned the butterflies, and just watched them from across the feilds.<br><br>Alana gently raised her hand and let the delicate creature take flight, and then ran her fingers through her hair, pulling out the sticks and leaves and whatever else might have found home in the chocolate locks. She took a deep breath and held it as she pushed herself up off of the ground. The pain in her feet was immediate and harsh, and she grit her teeth forcefully against it. She stood in that spot for a moment, her eyes closed and her fists balling as the wave of frustration and pain washed up from her feet to the top of her head and back down again. <br><br>Out of nowhere Alana felt a prickle on the back of her neck, the fine hairs at the base of her hairline standing on end. She looked over her shoulder, but spied nothing. Still…the forest felt different. More foreboding.<br><br>A trickle of sweat ran between her breasts and she chalked the feeling at the back of her neck to perspiration as well. Alana wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. Grabbing a stick from the ground she wound her long hair into a twist, and twisted that upon itself at the back of her head, securing it with the stick, giving some releif to the back of her neck. <br><br>The motions she went through weren’t just to compose herself, but to work up the courage to start walking on her raw feet, and to distract her from the feeling that something in her surrounds had changed. But as she turned to start out on her journey once again, she stopped dead in her tracks. Standing before her was a tower she was certain had not been there prior. <br><br><br><br>
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