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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Jul 10, 2008 1:35:03 GMT -5
"Aye. I will stay a bit longer." Hilathic gives into her will and allows her to hold him. Wraith sighs, laying her cheek upon Hilathic's crown, and holds him until the last of her tears dries on her face. Hearing the harsh cawing of the Executioner's ravens outside the window, she glances up, seeing for the first time the wan grey light penetrating the blackness above the Cage. Is it morning already? She muses to herself, and yawns. Glancing down at Hilathic, realising that she'd been holding onto him for so long, she blushes and glances toward the window again. "It's nearly morning, Hal. We should probably get some more sleep before Aerin awakens again." She sighs. Releasing him, she rises to her feet, and returns to her bed, though she doesn't climb under the covers just yet. "Again, thankyou for staying longer, Hal. Please, stay with us for breakfast, so that way I at least know you're not leaving on an empty stomach."[ooc: I've done all I needed to do here.  I think this scene is nearly finished, unless there's something else you wanted to add?] |
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Post by hilathic on Sept 23, 2008 17:27:18 GMT -5
Attempting to change the subject because he was very uncomforable, Hilathics asks Wraiths something he had been pondering awhile. "I was thinking. My song selection is very limited as a Bard. My mother hated my love of music and I arrived in Sigil with only enough gold to secure a dwelling. I was wondering, maybe I have some spells that you do not have and maybe you have spells I do not have? Maybe we could compare and trade?"
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Oct 23, 2008 5:34:22 GMT -5
Glancing at Hilathic, confusion registers on Wraith's pale face. She was about to ask, What in the name of the Lady are you talking about? When she realised what he'd said, and simply smiled and nodded. "Yes, I suppose we could swap notes to whittle away the time." She says, climbing off the bed and kneels on the ground to unbuckle her satchel.
With methodical ease her weary fingers work at the straps, finally releasing them, and opens the bag. She draws out a bundle carefully wrapped in black cloth that might be an old robe, revealing it to be a large leather-bound grimoire. Carefully, reverently she runs her fingers over the embossed runes scribed on the aged black cover. It has a silvery lock and a tiny key on a chain, which she uses to open the book, and sits down on the floor beside Hilathic.
Each turn of the stiff parchment pages unveils a wealth of arcane knowledge, medical journals and embalmer's notes, all written in a neat, precise hand with obvious pride and care. Here was a woman who knew her Art - as well as one could know it, at this stage of her education - and preserved it like the treasure it was.
Towards the back of the heavy book, after passing empty pages in each of the front sections, the runes and formulae of Spellcraft become poetry and music, all written with fire and passion; a stark contrast to her precise, logical mind.
"I don't have much, sadly, so I don't know if these notes will be of any use to you. Though you're welcome to peruse my arcane notes, and I can swap music with you." She explains with a rueful smile.
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I think this scene is nearly finished, unless there's something else you wanted to add?]