Third Group

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// <span style='color:3D0707'>Timestamp</span> \\
<span style='color:690000'>Quarter:</span> Tessera
<span style='color:690000'>Day:</span> 38th
<span style='color:690000'>Year:</span> 81377

// <span style='color:#FA8630'>Cynik Rasa'myeja</span> \\
Primary Trade ¤ Necromancy (J)
Secondary Trade ¤ Telepathy (J)
// <span style='color:#274D27'>Vosoja Anathema</span> \\
Primary Trade ¤ Seer (M)
Secondary Trade ¤ Telepathy (M)​

\\ OOC: This is a planned thread. Do NOT join unless you've talked to us. (To do this, and to understand what's going on, visit this thread.)  Thanks!

\\ IC

The morning sucked. Then again, everything in his opinion sucked. He was busy being depressed, ornery, and in general loathing of everyone around him. Which, thankfully, was no one. This large male was in the mood for a fight. His feet wanted to run, his wings to fly, and his tie to Fronima called him strongest.

This yearning for truth pulled his heart the hardest, so instead of running off, he turns around and starts his trek to his grandmother.

~-~

Vosoja was busy meditating, as she did every morning. The ancient pendragon smiles calmly, her gentle aura a beacon for many. Around her unmoving body bounces her companion, Bejsoa, a feisty qereniath. Vosoja never considered Bejsoa a pet, and Bejsoa never considered Vosoja her master. Their dual companionship worked well. Vosoja provided the qereniath with a dry home, free food, and patience, while Bejsoa provided Vosoja with someone to talk to, unyielding protection, and entertainment.

Being a seer was not an easy trade; not one she asked for, either. It wasn't a burden, but it wasn't a gift. Still, she took each day as it came, forgave the past, looked toward the future. This was something she felt the need to teach her grandson, but unfortunately, he didn't seem open to the idea of forgiveness. Instead, he walled himself off, and chose sullenness over happiness.

Vosoja turns her head just as he approaches, <span style='color:#274D27'>"Good morning, darling. Sleep well?"</span>

Cynik shakes his head; he was as telepathic as his grandmother, so he wasn't surprised she knew he was coming - she always knew. <span style='color:#FA8630'>"No."</span> Bad dreams tormented him nightly. He never slept well. But she always asked, and his answer was always the same.

Vosoja nods, <span style='color:#274D27'>"Dont worry, dear. Life will turn up, don't you worry."</span>

Cynik's eyebrow twitches. The same reply. Always the same. It was like some kind of bad rerun every morning. But she was his grandmother, and he wrote it off to her being addlebrained - even though he knew very well she was not.

Vosoja decides not to tell him visitors would be coming. She saw them; first a group with an egg, and then a second group would be following. She grins to herself at the second group; they seemed happy and lively. The first was the same, but with a determind purpose around them.. and also.. a shadow hovered around them.. but she couldn't tell what it was.

No matter. They would be here soon enough, and perhaps the gods and goddesses would grant her one more day to help others with a vision of the future.</font>

 

<font color='6C6C6C'>Cynik curls his lip in a silent growl. He hated that females had telepathic ability. Then again, his ability was greater than most. But he was far too angry at the moment to delve into this.. intruder's.. memory banks.

Vosoja, amiable as always, turns slowly and smiles at their visitor, <span style='color:#274D27'>"Good morning Latzure. No need to promote animosities, dear, it won't get you very far in a circle of telepaths."</span> The ancient pendragon winks. It was easy enough for this aged Seer to discover the female's name.

Cynik decides at that moment to utter a low growl at Latzure in reply to her laughing, then turn an acusitory eye on his grandmother. <span style='color:#FA8630'>"Why didn't you tell me?"</span>

Vosoja chuckles, <span style='color:#274D27'>"You'll have to learn to get along with others sooner or later, child."</span> She wasn't being demeaning, she called anyone younger than herself 'child'; it was a term of endearment.

Cynik snorts, sitting up fully, his draconic black and red wings extending then contracting again to pin to his sides. He says nothing further, and rather decides to sulk while he keeps a close eye on this newcomer.

Meanwhile, Vosoja's qereniath bounces around underneath her mistresses' feet; Vosoja felt no fear, so neither did little Bejsoa.</font>

 

<font color='6C6C6C'>Vosoja nods, <span style='color:#274D27'>"Life is very kind, thank you."</span>

Cynik's hackles rise, and he fixes his eyes on the hyena-esque female. He didn't like being laughed at about personal things, and he was quite ready to take this to a physical fight.

Vosoja breaks his concentration however by mentioning the next bit, <span style='color:#274D27'>"Today will be a busy day, I think. I'm quite sure we'll soon be surrounded by 'dragons. It will be interesting, I'm sure."</span>

Cynik roars. Not a little mewling cough, but a mountain-vibrating echo. He hated this. And hate was too gentle a word. First this.. thing.. was here making fun of him, and now, he couldn't escape because he had to protect his grandmother from these future visitors.

And he knew his grandmother would refuse to tell them if the visitors would be amiable and want a fortune-telling, or if they were of Grader ilk and wanted his elder kin dead.

Vosoja looks calmly at her grandson, <span style='color:#274D27'>"Are you calmer now, child?"</span>

Cynik starts pacing, talons digging into the dirt, <span style='color:#FA8630'>"Does it look like it, grandmother?"</span>

Vosoja ignores the tone; she wouldn't start a bickering match with him. So the eldery 'dragon turns back to Latzure, <span style='color:#274D27'>"And how have you been, dear? Life equally pleasing, I hope?"</span></font>

 

<font color='6C6C6C'>\\ OOC: Say it LOUD and PROUD now, baby! ... I'M LAZIER THAN THE MOST LAZY THING ON EARTH! XD *hides*

\\ IC

<span style='color:#FA8630'>I can read your mind better than you can mine..</span> Cynik eyes widen and shrink spontaniously as he stares at the female, intent on catching her gaze.

The voice he used was his own, but the tone was harsh and whispery - he was indeed delving into her memory banks. A normal female's natural talent in telepathy couldn't block him, and because of his own skill and power, thus far only his grandmother could shut him out of her mind.

<span style='color:#FA8630'>I can show you things you thought you've forgotten..</span> He begins to walk closer to her, ignoring her aggressive posture. His own draconic wings splay open, like a vulture covering it's prey his wings begin to arch forward, encircling the area in front of him. <span style='color:#FA8630'>If you want a fight then come and get it, but I'll keep you distracted enough you won't be able to tell which way is north when I'm done with you..</span>

The black male lowers his head and unsheathes strong talons from muscle-bound paws, the tips cutting sharply into the ground before him. His tail lashes out behind him, and he waits for his antagonizer's reaction.

Vosoja decides to say no more. She wasn't strong enough to physically hold him off, but she knew if he got out of control, she could mentally subdue him.</font>

 

<font color='6C6C6C'>\\ OOC: mwahaha! D'you mind my using some bad memories of hers for plot sake? They don't all need to upset her, have her curled up in the fetal position, etc, but I don't want to invent a backstory for your character on you, so I'll just need one or two traumatic memories. (LOL, that sounds so weird.. 'let me have bad memories so I can torture your character! Thanks!' XD )

\\ IC

Cynik laughs low and harsh, no longer listening to her jibes and taking them personally. He was too busy searching through her memories, for something that could potentially render her helpless as she relived that moment.

<span style='color:#FA8630'>"Wake up you snake in the grass.. I'm not sure what fantasy land you've been residing, but you're on ramath-lehi now.. magic is everything.."</span>

He begins to circle her, but by crab walking - he doesn't turn his side to her, nor his scaled wings in her way, he keeps his ready face upon her, ready to bite should she have the gall enough to strike him.

She had played the piper and aroused the sleeping giant, and he was now out to find just how far he could push her before she, too, was awakened.</font>

 

<font color='6C6C6C'>\\ OOC: hehe, Cynik's not the lovey type..? O_o;  Oh, and that's not a 'no', just a 'be prepared for gothic like depressions until someone kicks his ass'. *cackles*

The ass kicker with be Tryph, in this plot, like ya'll know, one of my other characters, and then a whole troop will go off to find his parents murderers (which Latzure is more than welcome! =D ) , exact a lil' revenge, and then he'll be ready to settle down, methinks. =D

Thankee for the memories! Don't keeeel him too bad now, aye? XD

\\ IC

Cynik grins, having found the memory he was looking for. Using manipulations he would make it more vivid. Essentially hacking into the visual cortex of her brain she would no longer see him, but the memory as if she were reliving it moment for moment.

The only debilitating factor, was he would have to live it too, if he were to control how and what she saw. He couldn't attack her while he was doing this, as he wouldn't be seeing her, or anything else around him, only the memory. This risked his own mind being emotionally run ragged by the scene. However, his heart was hardened by all that he'd seen in his young life, and that risk was marginally small..

In addition to displaying the memory to her senses, he, too, put a damper on the brain's connection to her limbs, which also affected his own. This would keep her -and him- from moving at all - to serve two purposes; keep both of them from running off a cliff in the midst of the delusion, and keep them both from doing anything to try help the shown situation - just a bit of torture, eh?

<span style='color:#FA8630'>"Ah, why look to the past anyway? But then again, we were never without magic. The gods created us, and from them our connection with Fronima, Tanastlasei, and magic, has been innate."</span>

Cynik comes to a slow stop, ceasing his circling, and eyes her, <span style='color:#FA8630'>"Then again.. why don't we return to the past?"</span>

Vivid colors explode in front of his eyes, and hers, as well, and the scene unravels. Back to a memory long hidden, flames licking the sky, smoke choking the throat. Pendragon screams for help. Senses experiencing this moment over again, as if watching it for the very first time..</font>