Shackles of Freedom

[Kamilar]

(( closed RP for now -- PM if you want to join ))

The elfess was angry, perhaps angrier than she’d ever been before and that made her reckless. She approached the man at the bar, yearning for trouble and finding more than she had bargained for. He was a barbarian from the Nordmark and hated her without knowing why. She used his hatred against him as surely as if she wielded a weapon and allowed his torment to pay the price of vengeance for past wrongs.

Perhaps the cruelty of the moment would pay for cruelty of the past, but it bought more for the future too. Like a poison cloud, cruelty spread slowly and enveloped all in its insidious embrace. Earlier that evening the elfess had been in the main hall of Tol Vanima where the poison had first touched her. A Tol Vanima elder - hating humans, hating elves, probably hating herself - had used her throne of power to spread that frank hatred and had lit the first spark of the fire that the elfess now displayed in the tavern.

The barbarian and the elfess remained locked together in this vicious dance for most of the evening. The hearty laughter of the other Nordmarkers fueled the elfess’ cruelty.

“All females are the same once the armor comes off,” she had whispered to him.

She watched his reaction and knew the arrow had found its mark. The man’s hard exterior showed a chink of weakness and the elfess silently rejoiced in her victory.

Eventually, the elfess’ rage was quenched and the Jarl’s festering anger outstripped hers. Within days he had exacted his vengeance, taking her as a prisoner to the Nordmark where he could leisurely indulge his hatred of elves by punishing this one.

In time the old man came for her. His senses were failing but not yet his strength and he brought her back to Tol Vanima, leaving her alone in the house he had built on the shore. Days of contemplative waiting, still shackled about the neck, stretched on painfully for the restless elfess until she could stand it no longer. She needed to find help.

[Lord Arcia]

Arcia had spent the day as many before in the elven refuge of Tol Vanima, grinding flour and making his daily bread. He did not expect to see anyone this day, as many before. Much to his surprise a defeated and disheveled looking elfess approaches him, her hair looking jagged and uneven. This is not what alerted him to her presence though.

"Greetings hun. I...uh...got into some trouble. Can you help me with this?" She accentuates the inflection of her voice with the lifting of a chain attached to a metal collar.

He asks her what happened to have her end up in this way and with practiced coolness she dismisses the abuse as a minor thing, but her eyes tell another story.

"Come with me. I will lead the way." breathes the elf and smiles sympathetically to her. "I can remove this at the smithy."

They both walk silently to the elven smithy, the elfess' bowed from the weight of her burdens. As they arrive, the elfess looks at the anvil then the hammer that Arcia carries with a degree of fear. "I am skilled with these things, do not worry."

He passes her a cloth to place over her ears as she kneels and wraps her hands around the base of the anvil. After a few hard strikes the pin that holds the collar is released and bounces a few times on the stone surface. The quiet sound quite aptly replaces the loud din of his work.

"I was afraid to return. I'm haunted by the words of that elfess." the elfess says as she stands from her position at the anvil.

Arcia shakes his head, closes his eyes and exhales slowly and deeply. "I welcome you personally." The elfess smiles softly and naturally, going against her practiced persona. He then turns away from the elfess and looks out over the forest a moment and then skyward to the dark night sky.

"More importantly, Vanima welcomes you."

[Kamilar]

His soothing hand on her head, offering her a moment of reassurance before the hammer fell and the sparks flew, had made all the difference to the elfess. This was someone rare in the elfess' experience - someone who saw no pleasure in causing another to suffer, someone that coupled gentleness with calm competence and, despite her fear, she found that remarkable.

"Will you keep this secret?" she had asked him shyly once she was free of her restraint.
"You are a Sister to me, how could I betray you?" had been his reply.

Something inside the elfess wanted very much to believe it and in a triumph of hope over experience, she took that leap of faith. She knew that she owed him some explanation. She could see also that he wanted one and yet he didn't pry.

"Do you have any wine?" the elfess asked him. "I will tell you the full tale if you wish. But it will require ... " Her words trailed off as she watched him hold up two goblets and a bottle.
"This?" he asked her.
The elfess kicked the discarded collar, watching it skitter under the bushes and turned to him, smiling faintly. "Yes."

The elf sat in stillness, cloaked in a quiet at once strange and compelling when the elfess recounted her story, listening without judgement. He responded by speaking of peace and understanding, of balance. He spoke of calming the storm of the mind and finding quiet within as if he had mastered this struggle himself. The elfess drank in his words, basking in the surrounding silence.

"It is reassuring to hear that I'm not alone in this feeling," she had said to him.
"You will never be alone," he replied, adding, "My way of living does not excite you, does it?"
"I have had enough excitement," she said in response. And she meant it.

[Kamilar]

The elfess' usual closed and private nature had been mortified by her exposure and there now seemed little left to hide. The leaves were turning and beginning to fall and taking a cue from the trees, the elfess cut her hair short, her long, silky hair now replaced with short, tousled, unruly spikes. She explored Tol Vanima, slowly familiarizing herself with the island and its inhabitants.

The elfess remained on Tol Vanima as the days grew cold and the nights grew long. The island provided her with much needed solitude and she was often alone, reflecting on her past and deciding on her next steps. In the days and months of quiet there was the elf's steady presence, sometimes challenging her, sometimes calming her.

This day there had been guests on the island and the elven wine had flowed more freely. The elf rested his head on the table, his speech slurring as he asked the elfess to protect him. "Yes, I will protect you," she had agreed but her mischievous manner reared up as she continued in a breathy whisper, "Who will protect you from me?"

The elf lifted his head, his eyes swimming a little as his gaze wandered. "Bragon himself does not have the strength."

The elfess responded simply with light laughter, feeling very much at ease. But the elf persisted, "Is this your belief as well?"

The feelings of confusion and helplessness returned for a moment as the elfess found herself on unsteady ground. "That you are not safe from me?"

"I am certain I am not," had been the elf's reply.

She tried to offer reassurance but he countered with doubt. She offered distance and he spoke of loneliness, pulling his hood over his head in an isolating gesture. "The harbor is to the west," he had told her.

"Are you asking me to leave?" The elfess was confused, maybe a little hurt but could still recognize the challenge.

She rose to it.

[Lord Arcia]

"Will you walk with me?" She asked.

It seemed like a simple question, but it held a great deal more meaning to him. He placed his hands firmly on the table and pushed himself up, determined to make the first step. He wanted to trust her, but his instincts were shouting otherwise.

"Where would you like to go?" he asked, not because he wished to know the answer, but that he needed a moment to think. To plan. "Escape. Flee." Each pound and beat of his heart would push these thoughts into his mind. He mentally recounted all that he had said. He had told her slivers of truth, but was it too much?

"I will follow your wishes," she responded. His mind had fallen flat on its back, forcing out the breath. The only response he could muster was a slight smile. How often he would use a smile as both weapon and armor. It calmed him.

The elfess took a deep breath to steady herself, her smirk and usual mischievous mask melted away, replaced by fear. She spoke to him in a low hushed whisper. The response could not have weighed more heavily upon him.

He knew the signs, because he was the same as her. She whispered the truth to him, and it frightened him.