On the wings of fate 18+ (Kotorichan)

[Rumpleteaser]

On the wings of fate

By Rumpleteaser and Kotorichan

 

Terralga:

 

 

 

Vivian dor Vellin:

 

Appearance

Vivian is albino. His hair is a very pale blonde and dead straight. It is thin and light so it gets caught in the wind easily. He likes to keep it as long as he can but some masters like to cut it short. It currently falls to about half way down his back and is normally tied back in a loose ponytail. The hair on the rest of his body has the same pale, soft look to it. It's almost unnoticeable on first glance because it blends in with the colour of his skin so well. His skin lacks all pigment. The only colour to it is a pinkish tinge from his blood. His eyes are a pale shade of powder blue and the soft colour of his eyebrows makes them hard to see. He is tall with a slender build. He has no curves or softness whatsoever. He barely has any muscle on his body so if he were to remove his shirt people would see his spine and the bottom of his ribcage. They would also see the massive scar across the back of his shoulders. It’s where his wings were cut off. They're slowly regrowing. It has been six months since they were forcibly removed so they have grown back to the end of the humerus. He has a lump on the side of his head that's hidden behind his hair and more lumps on his left forearm. All these injuries are courtesy of his previous master.

 

Vivian likes to keep his body covered all the way to his hands and neck. He is rarely seen without a cravat or some sort of scarf covering his neck, though there are a few reasons for this. The gloves he wears go all the way to his elbows so that even if his sleeves came up he won't get burnt. When outside he even wears a hooded capelet or cloak. His shirt and pants are very simple: creamy white and soft grey-blue. His shoes are soft and thin, which means they're quite worn. They button up on the side but the buttons are glued in place now. He uses them as slip-ons. He only has one set of clothes so he has to wash them every night.

 

As an asvang, Vivian has an "original form", which looks something akin an oversized bat. The differences are he is primarily bipedal and he has arms as well as wings. The scapulae form the base of the wing joint rather than the rotator cuff. The original form is the same size as his human one. Normally the original form would be larger but its size is very dependent on physical strength, lifestyle, training and feeding. His original skin is as dark as his human skin is light. The only similar colouring is the pale blue of his eyes.

 

Name

He doesn't currently have any permanent name. By the time he made it to his current land, he'd legally had his name stripped from him and made a slave. He would never tell you but his birth name was Victor dor Vellin. It was changed when he was eight years old to Vivian dor Vellin (an honorary dor). This name was stripped from him when he became a slave. He technically no longer owns a name and will go by any name people give him, even if it's something like "Princess". For simplicity's sake he goes by Vivian.

 

Age

He looks nineteen but he is actually 62 years old. His race starts aging at the same rate as humans but once they reach approximately five years old they age at a rate four times slower than humans.

 

Biography

Vivian is very reluctant for anyone to know his past, for knowing it endangers his future. If nobody knows then nobody can tell. If his mother were to discover his presence he would be captured by her men, dragged back to her and punished for yet another escape attempt. What is written in this biography would not make it into the annexes. The same goes for the information about his name and even his species. There are few asvang in the world and they keep themselves hidden, even from other mythological beings.

 

In an Earth setting Vivian was born in a manor house in Auvergne, France. It is an agricultural province that doesn't get much attention from outside, making it the perfect place for a small band of blood-drinkers to his in. The heavy snowfall and cold climate means they can keep their skin covered without suspicion. In his original setting he was born in the same manor house about half an hour from the capital of a city-state called Kali. Kali sits just north of a lake on one of the northern continent's major rivers. The city is an important way point on the major trade route north. It is important because it has a thriving agricultural community and is perfect for restocking supplies. In both settings his mother runs a cattle farm. This is because she can sell the meat and collect the blood, thus negating the need to attack other farms and rousing suspicion.

 

Victor dor Vellin's infancy was a pleasant one. If he were to look back he would undoubtedly have a melancholy smile upon his face. His father loved him dearly and, for the most part, his mother did too. Devioa suffered from post natal depression. She would not breastfeed him and she rarely noticed the drawings and chains of flowers he laid in front of her door. In her daze she would step on them without ever knowing they were there. Vivian was too young to understand what was happening and didn't understand why his "treasures" didn't make her happy. As distant as his mother was from him, his father was close. His father would read to him in the old language, Asvangga, tell him stories and even took up his mother's duty of breastfeeding him. Asvang drink blood so, physically speaking, either parent can feed their infant. After a month Veau's chest even began to swell like a woman's breasts did during this time, though not nearly as much as a woman's would have.

 

It wasn't until Victor was five years old that his fate seemed to change. Devoia's post natal depression had caused Veau to seek out other women. By the time Victor was five (in both apparent age and physical age) he was having an affair with a half-caste. The young boy knew his father's actions were wrong and begged him to stop but by that time he cared more for his mistress than his wife. Victor was in his father's closet trying on the man's clothes when he saw it. Devoia was away making a deal with a slaver and his father was taking advantage of her vacation. Victor remained silent and peeked out between the slats. He watched in horror as his mother broke in the door and slaughtered the lovers in their bed. Officially it was declared she'd acted in self defence but suspicion still lay about her like some dark miasma. It was an entire week later when the servants found Victor hiding under the bed in one of the guest rooms.

 

Ever since that fateful day Victor was afraid of his mother. He looked too much like his father and shared all the same loves; surely the child would turn out like Veau in the end. Devioa had dearly loved her husband but now all she could see of him was his betrayal; all she could feel was loathing. She had changed, or perhaps it wasn't a change so much as revealing a different part of her character. It didn't make Victor's situation any better that he now trembled when he looked at his mother and had to be forced to look at her. He still made her necklaces of flowers and placed drawings on her seat at the table but now she just brushed them aside or told the servants to throw them out. He gathered them up and placed them in his box of treasures, forever hoping one day she would see them for what they really were.

 

Most boys of his kind did not start school and tutoring until they were seven. At only five Victor was handed over to a tutor three times a week. Meeting the man was a frightening experience. His mother held tight to his hand the whole way to the man's door, as though he was going to be handed over to someone he should learn to fear. After all, it had only been a few months since he'd watched the woman murder his father. Victor was ordered to stand properly, speak louder and look up. The man's inspection and questioning frightened the tiny boy. Finally, the man agreed to tutor him and he was taken back to the car. It turned out Master Mordei was strict and flogged him when he failed to perform but in no way was he cruel. He pushed Victor at the same level he started out with his older students, teaching the subjects Devoia chose for the boy. Victor was expected to know how to behave in cultured society, asvang history as well as learn how to keep accounts.

 

With Veau gone and Victor out of the way, Devoia sought out a new suitor. Henor was a friend from her youth. He was younger than her but still shared her apparent age. By the time he was ten years old (almost seven in apparent age), his mother had given birth to a beautiful baby girl named Lana. As soon as Devioa was well she had the boy disinherited and changed his name to Vivian, claiming that he was infirm. At roughly the same time Henor forbid him from speaking to her or even coming near her. The boy was so quiet, so flighty and so awkward around his elders; it wasn't hard for Henor to believe all the horrible things Devoia said about the child.

 

Vivian's first meeting with his sister was not a good one. He was hiding away in the bottom of the linen closet, in trouble with his mother. Lena found him and tried to drag him out like the nasty thing she believed him to be. Vivian was so afraid of being sent back into the dark room below the doctor's quarters. The dark room was completely sealed with barely any airflow. Such sensory deprivation was often used as a form of torture. Vivian screamed when his sister pulled and lashed out in self defence. As soon as he realised he'd hit his sister and made her cry, he ran. He ran out into the snow so hard and so fast he didn't know where he was going. Henor came after him, furious, and dragged him back inside. It was the first time Vivian's arm was broken. It wasn't the last time it would happen and it wasn't the worst injury he would sustain.

 

Ever since the day his mother bit him, Vivian's treatment worsened. By that time he'd become Lana's nursemaid, governess and toy. If she wanted to go outside Vivian had no power to stop her. He had to beg and persuade her not to travel the fence line all the way to the front gate. He was too afraid that she would go to Henor and accuse him of hurting her. There was nothing he could do to stop her from talking to the boy on the other side of the fence. He could not leave her to go for help, he could not stop her and he could not scold her. He had to stay with her, anxious, and hope she wouldn't say anything that would get him in trouble later. She did. She revealed to the boy what they were, at which time Vivian grabbed his sister and marched back towards the house. When the servants told his mother what had happened, Vivian panicked. He struggled, pushed away and even kicked in an attempt to get away, which only resulted in his mother slicing him across the cheek. After she licked his blood from her fingers and looked down at the boy with such hatred, Vivian cowered and fell back on the floor. She'd read his blood. She'd seen the "treachery" in his blood. She did not hold back. She sank all four of her fangs into his flesh and didn't stop sucking until she'd read everything she wanted. When Devoia released him, Vivian was already unconscious.

 

From that day forth feeding from him became a regular occurrence. She would know if he was being underhanded, she would know if he'd done something wrong and she would know if he was planning to escape. Her cruelty didn't stop there. The punishments inflicted by her whilst under the doctor's quarters and in the black room were best left unsaid and unknown. They caused his body to weaken until it was believed he had some weakness of the blood, supposedly inherited from his father's side. His mother's treatment, his studies with Master Mordei and serving Lana wore him down until he would sometimes collapse where he stood. All the while Henor would watch him, hound him and even beat him for things Lana would claim he'd done. Eventually he escaped, but such attempts never succeeded for more than a year. With each escape attempt he would be dragged back, punished then returned to his bed as a breathing corpse. During the times he was away his mother would say he was being taken care of by a specialist doctor or away at boarding schools. Only on occasion would she admit he'd ran away, using it as proof he was defective and needed to be kept under close watch. Who knew what he would get up to without his elders making sure he didn't bite people or reveal the asvang to the world?

 

It seems ironic that Devoia was the one who was caught disobeying asvang law. To avoid prison, death or slavery she placed the accusation upon Vivian. He accepted the blame so no smhame would come upon his half sister, Lana, and to get away from his mother. He was charged by the asvang courts and sentenced to life as a convicted slave. He was stripped of his identity then sold to the highest bidder over Scamper. He knew nothing of his new owner or how they may treat him, only that he was packaged away in a very fancy slave box to be transported out of Europe. He was sent to a far away country where nobody would ever have heard of asvang: the United States of America. It was a chance at freedom, relatively speaking. It was a chance of a new life.

 

The treatments he received from his masters there were much kinder than anything his mother had inflicted. In no way does that mean they were kind to him, at least most of them weren't. He quickly learned to fear masters almost as much as he had his mother. To be sent to a new master was chilling; to be sent back would have him in shivers. His mother instilled in him long ago not to show his fears as panic.

 

Personality

Vivian is a quiet man with a soft voice. When he does speak he is well spoken and well mannered. It is rare to hear him retort and when he does it is usually subtle. This does not mean he is shy or insecure though, far from it. It's merely doesn't see the need to approach people, shout or speak often. He is very self-content and secure in who he is. He has always found seeking inner happiness is far more reliable than seeking it in his surroundings. He doesn't see himself as a reflection of the company he's in or the treatment given to him. He guards his hopes carefully and is capable of protecting himself against all onslaughts. It means he is able to find the calm in almost any situation and come out from it unbroken. He still has his fears and foibles but his approach to them makes him more resilient than others would be in his situation.

 

The things Vivian fears most are: his mother, sensory deprivation, having his blood read, cruelty, the dark, places that are too quiet and being handed to a new master. He doesn't like sex either (especially gay sex) but it isn't a fear. When faced with his fears he will usually panic and try to escape them then recoil into himself and simply yield to them. He does put up a fight but it is mostly defensive rather than aggressive. Often times it is better to yield to his fears than risk further pain. He would much rather wait for a chance to escape than cause harm to himself or others. He knows how to wait and he's always looking for ways out. When faced with a dislike he most likely won't panic and simply ask for it not to be so or avoid it.

 

The past is something Vivian rarely talks about. It's because he doesn't like thinking about the past. It stirs so many conflicting emotions in him and usually leaves him in a melancholy silence. If he does speak about his past it's usually nothing of consequence and nothing sinister. He's afraid of how his masters would treat him if they knew, the prospect of his mother finding him and people questioning him further about it. The times he has mentioned anything of his past, his people or his homeland (France, not the South Pole) it ended badly. He doesn't even speak with an accent any more. The way he speaks is very proper without any lilt of any kind. It would be impossible to place him from speech alone.

 

Abilities

Vivian has a few race-based abilities but no "magic". All the abilities he does have are physiological rather than arcane.

 

Regeneration: His kind are capable of enduring much more than humans. They heal faster and can regrow damaged body part. As a rough standard, it takes Vivian one year to regrow his wings. If he were as healthy and as strong as other asvang this healing time would decrease. This ability is very much dependant on physical strength, lifestyle, training and feeding. The healthier a person is, the more they feed, the better the quality of the blood they drink and the more sleep they get the faster they will heal. Fortune has not favoured Vivian in this way. He will gradually get healthier the longer he's taken care of. The fastest way for an asvang to heal (which to them is synonymous with regenerate) is to become a "breathing corpse". It basically means going into a healing coma. It takes a lot of damage to become a breathing corpse and if he does he will not be able to be roused by anything other than immediate danger, meaning the affliction of more damage. This happens automatically; if he is that physically damaged he has to fight to stay awake and he is unlikely to be able to rouse himself.

 

Blood reading: Asvang are able to taste blood memories. The ability is based on heightened senses of smell and taste. It is not something they need to activate or put power into. As soon as the blood touches lands inside of the drinker's mouth they taste it. In animals it is simply their emotions and how healthy they are but in people it is much more. Where the mind's memories are skewed by the person's interpretation of what happens to them, blood memories are the actuality of their life. They show exactly what happened to the person, how a person is feeling, their thoughts, their health and even what has happened to them. The fresher the memory the more prominent it is, thus the easier to read. Vivian finds blood reading to be more of a violation than rape so would never do this to a person and would never allow it to happen to himself. In fact, he panics when others of his kind bite him. When he drinks sentient blood, he would rather regurgitate the blood than taste it.

 

Shifting: At night he can change into his original form. If he is badly injured, weak or comatose this will happen automatically.

 

Sixth sense: When his other senses are taken away he can sense the dead. This is because the other five senses get in the way of the sixth sense and people tend to pay more attention to them. For example, if you deafen him he will hear the dead and if you blind him he will see the dead. It is partially the reason he very much does not enjoy sensory deprivation.

 

Gender bending: Vivian has no control over this. He has witchcraft tattoos across his entire back that will not come off. The spell is constantly re-inking itself so that his healing abilities will not cause it to fade. The only way for him to get rid of it is to cut it off and burn it. The witchcraft causes him to change between four other genders. When someone other than him says one of the five cardinal points within earshot, it will change his gender. Saying "north" will turn him female, "east" will turn him female but with male genitalia, "west" for male with female genitalia, "south" for both genders and "origin" to go back to male. When the sun crosses the horizon each day he will turn back into a male.

 

Inabilities

Vivian's people originate from the South Pole. An armada travelled north to the North Pole where they crashed in the ice. From there they slowly migrated south and settled in a few places throughout Europe (or the northern continent of his original setting). For this reason Vivian has a different set of strengths and weaknesses to humans. He's very used to them though so for the most part he's able to work around them. For example, by staying in the shade or putting on a hood and gloves he can keep his skin protected.

 

Aversion to sunlight: Due to being a polar species, Vivian's people are more at home in temperatures below ten degrees Celsius. They are capable of keeping their bodies warm well below the freezing point of water. The negative to this is they cannot cope with strong sunlight or heat. The lack of pigment means their skin would blister and burn in the sunlight. An hour in the sun is dangerous, a few days is lethal.

 

Aversion to heat: Their aversion to heat is linked in with their aversion to light, in that it stems from their ancestry in the South Pole. They are incapable of cooling their bodies down. They do sweat but it is not nearly enough to protect them from the heat. It is more an emotional response than a cooling mechanism.

 

Short-sightedness: Asvang rely on their senses of smell, taste and hearing to interpret the world rather than their sight. Many are born blind (and without a sense of smell too but that's irrelevant to Vivian). For this reason Vivian is very short-sighted. He simply cannot see nor read anything at a distance. Even when he's reading books he has to hold it close. It would probably be nice for him to have a set of reading glasses as well as a pair of distance ones. He should be wearing thick glasses but he's never been tested for them or presented with any. It would no doubt be a great honour to be given some.

 

Food allergies: Eating anything other than blood and its constituents (e.g. water, serum, sweat and piss) is fatal within a few hours, depending on how much he has ingested. It causes an allergic reaction that consists of dysentery, fevers, trembling, ulcers, intestinal bleeding and vomiting. It is so painful to asvang that if they are not tied down they will begin clawing at their stomach. Trying to remove their stomach is another reason why it is fatal. Even after the intestinal tract is completely empty the allergic reaction will continue. If the food does not come out fast enough, the reaction will take over their whole body. A shot of epinephrine will help but he's never been given an autoinjector before.

 

 

The wind blew chill, carrying pristine snowflakes over the muddy main road. It was just past midday and Vivian was making the trek along the Old Tarrinian Way between the riverside country of Kali and the coastal country of Havre. His thin-soled slippers squelched and slid over the mud as he dodged puddles and avoided the slipperiest parts of the road. It was a cloudy, early-spring day but there was no sign of the storm that had blown through the night before, leaving everything sodden and muddy. Vivian didn't mind the cold, as his species originated in the south pole, but the wet was another thing. His shoes were now so full of mud he might as well have taken them off and walked barefoot. The shoes were old and well worn but strong enough to last the trek. They didn't offer much in the way of protection though so he felt every stone and pebble he came upon. There wasn't much further to go though, only an hour until he reached the outskirts of the country. He'd be in the city of Havre by nightfall.

 

As the day wore on, the snow fell on and off until about sunset before coming in heavier. Vivian had a little Steagland grouts (the currency of the region) but not enough to waste it on luxuries like accommodation and new shoes. He had to bathe though as he was quite unpresentable covered in mud as he was. He doubted any of the public bath houses would take him so it was to the shoreline he went. He made his way north of the city until he could no longer smell the fishy stench of the docks then waded into the rock pools until he was knee deep. He took off his shoes and rinsed them out, scrubbed the mud from the bottom of his cloak and pants, then splashed his face and neck before rolling his sleeves back into place. He would no doubt look like some common vagabond but at least he was presentable. Now came the hard part: food.

 

It was perhaps unwise to wander around the streets at night but how else was the asvang to find a dog or cat to feed off? He kept for the shadows at the most part and listened carefully for anyone who might try to sneak up on him. Luckily he had exceptional hearing, which served him better than eyes could at night. At one stage he felt himself being followed so he started to move faster until he came to the better part of town. He crept into a large courtyard and crouched low behind a sandstone wall. There, he listened silently as the people passed the wall. They came back a few times and spoke in low voices but eventually decided they'd lost him. Vivian waited another half hour in case the humans returned before creeping out of his hiding place and going on his way. By that time he was rather hungry, having not eaten in three days, so he decided he'd creep into someone's stable and drink from their horses instead. Horses had more blood so he could take more without making them ill. That was a good thing, as he hated the idea of killing something for his own sustenance.

 

After taking the blood from four horses from three separate stables, Vivian moved on from the rich area of town to the docks. He wanted to see if he could find a ship that would take him further from his hometown of Tanbrooke in southern Steagland. Of course, it was highly likely he would just stow away on any ship heading north. He didn't have the luxury of spending time to choose the best ship, as his mother's men were likely to be close behind him. They were another reason why he chose to move around at night. The less people noticed him, the less people could tell them of his presence.

 

Vivian's mother, Devoia le Sinua, was a passionate lady who hated Vivian to the very core of her being. She could not stand the sight of him but couldn't let him be free either. At most times she kept him locked up, overworked and even let her loyal bounty hunters have their way with him. Much of his life had been spent locked up in the dungeons of his mother's family manor, where he was mutilated, raped, tortured, starved, dehumanised and violated in horrendous ways. Often times his body was cut open, his limbs removed and his blood drained until he couldn't even crawl away. Luckily, that hadn't happened for over a year since turning nineteen. Things seemed to have settled down but he still longed for his freedom. He still longed to spread his wings and travel to distant lands like his father had. Maybe someday he would find a charming young lady who made his world light up and they would talk into the night, exchange heart's token and have children together. Hey, anything was possible.

[Kotorichan]

Yaelin

 

 

Name: Yaelin Mouikera

Appearance: Yaelin is from a species called Eijjah. They are commonly recognized by their pale complexion and large white wings. Their hair tends to be between pure white and a mid-gray, while their skin is from pure white to a light pink. Their wingspan is about twice their height, which can range from 6-8” Their bodies are naturally thin and light to ensure that they are able to fly. Their eyes have bright red pupils with white irises and dark gray screla. It is a common practice to have a small scared symbol tattooed on the cheeks of children. The symbol acts as a sort of blessing. It is also expected that an individual has their family crest tattooed on their back.

Yaelin is 7’3 white skin and light gray hair. He has a symbol on his cheeks and the royal crest on his back.

Age: 23

Bio: Yaelin’s father was the king of Eimoria, a country deep in a range of northern mountains. The queen was unable to bear children and so Yaelin’s father found a mistress. The first child born was found suffocated in his crib before his first birthday. The second disappeared and then was found drown in a pond at about the same age. The king blamed his wife and had her executed. She begged for her life and denied any guilt to her last breath.

When Yaelin was born the mistress was caught attempting to suffocate him. She admitted that she thought she would be sent back to poverty the moment she had fulfilled her role.

The king was furious and immediately ordered for her execution as well. He fell into a deep depression which manifested as a violent rage which he took out on all those around him. He swore to never trust another woman as long as he lived. Reluctantly he allowed Yaelin to be named his heir, despite the sins of his mother.

Yaelin rarely saw his father as he was raised by tutors and maids. When he did meet with the king he could feel the hatred in the man’s gaze. Once he grew older Yaelin’s father begrudgingly started to involve him in some of the actual politics of the country. Allowing him to come to meetings with the nobles and church, and informing him on current foreign affairs. Throughout all of this the king made no attempt to hide the disdain he felt for his son and was quick to insult him.

Despite the king’s hatred for Yaelin, he still wasn’t actually allowed to leave the palace grounds. It was seen as too dangerous since Yaelin’s death would mean the king had to involve himself with another mistress. Because of this Yaelin grew up incredibly sheltered, with no idea what his country was actually like.

When Yaelin was 18 his father stepped down from the throne due to his old age and allowed Yaelin to be crowned. Yaelin immediately called for his father’s execution, claiming that the disrespect he had shown when Yaelin was a child could now be considered treason. He was able to coerce the court into agreeing with him and his father was killed within a week.

Even after he was crowned Yaelin didn’t leave his castle, the isolation almost a habit more than anything. Eimoria’s already corrupt government began to fall even further under Yaelin’s rule. He had no empathy for his people, and no sense of the suffering his actions caused. The nobles and the wealthy loved him and showered him in gifts and lavious parties in his honor. Meanwhile the poor lived in rundown villages and were constantly terrorized by slavers.

Meanwhile Yaelin continued to live in opulent isolation, never forming any kind of meaningful relationship with anyone.

 

Personality: Yaelin often acts like a spoiled child. He is quick to anger and becomes upset if he doesn’t get exactly what he wants. He sees those of lower classes as toys to be played with and disposed of when he bored tired of them. No one really knows what goes on in his mind. If he’s a lonely person trapped in a shell of insanity, or a true psychopath who is unable to feel any empathy. Not even Yaelin knows. He often tries to avoid thinking about such things for too long because it brings up too many unpleasant emotions.

Yaelin is a very lustful person, but finds more pleasure in tormenting others than in the act of sex. In a way he has an almost literal lust for power. Even as the most powerful person in his country he is unable to shake the feeling of being a helpless child in a world that hates him. Through sadistic acts he is able to gain some sense of control and calm that deep fear.

 

 

Makyo

 

 

Name: Makyo Rumari

Appearance: Makyo Is 7’8 with very pale skin and medium gray hair. He has a symbol on his cheeks and his family crest on his back.

Age: 27

Bio: Makyo was born into a family of servants. He was raised to be a servant to the prince and when he was only ten years old he started to serve Yaelin. He has taken the brute of Yaelin’s abuse for years and has followed every order he was given, no matter how much it hurt himself or others.

 

Personality: Makyo comes across as cold and emotionless. Although he really doesn’t have a choice due to the nature of his job.

 

 

 

The sun had not yet peeked over the horizon when Makyo rose and dressed himself. He wore his blood red uniform with a silent pride, careful not to wrinkle it or let the royal crest be dirtied in any way. Despite all the cruelty that Yaelin had inflicted on him, Makyo still worshiped the royal family. He made sure that his appearance was as perfect as possible so that it would reflect well on his master. By the time he was finished preparing the rest of the group had awoken and prepared themselves.

 

The expedition had been sent out nearly a month ago to find exotic pets for the king. They were finally close to returning to their homeland and Makyo was anxious to see his king. It wasn’t as though Makyo thought of Yaelin as incompetent, but it did worry him to be away for so long. If something went wrong then Makyo would be unable to assist his master.

 

So far they had found nearly two dozen pets who were being kept in the body of the ship. Makyo still hoped to find one more pet on this, their last stop before returning. There was always a chance that some of the pets wouldn’t please Yaelin, or he would get bored of them quickly, so he needed plenty of options.

 

Makyo gave his men orders to spread out and search the area before leaving the ship. His crimson eyes wandered around the people on the docks, searching for someone who might interest his master. Suddenly his gaze landed on a boy with pure white coloring who seemed to be examining the ships. The boy looked similar to a pale Eijjah, but his size and lack of wings made it clear that he was something different.

 

After a moment of consideration Makyo began to wander in the boy’s direction in a casual manner. He lightly tapped the stranger on the shoulder and gave a gentle smile. “Good morning young sir.” He said, his tone bright and cheerful. “Are you perhaps looking for a ride on a ship? If so then you’re in luck, one of my cook’s assistants just fell ill and I’m looking for someone who might want to do some simple work in return for a ride and some food during the trip.” It was a bit of a stretch to assume that the boy was looking for a free ride. But it would be incredibly convenient if that were the case. Otherwise he would just have to arrange for his kidnapping before the boy left shore.

[Rumpleteaser]

As the sun rose, Vivian stretched out lazily and smiled to himself. It was so good to be on the road again. He had nobody to take care of but himself and didn't have to fear for his health and sanity every step he took. There was nobody watching over him, nobody mocking him and nobody to answer to if he displeased them. Ah yes, life on the road was simple but beautiful.

 

Vivian stood up and stretched again, arching this way and that after sleeping in the sand between a few rocks under the docks. He brushed himself off and pulled his hood over his head to protect himself from the sun. It was a thin but oiled cloak, built to protect him from the rain and sun rather than the cold. The cold didn't bother Vivian, he could walk in shirt and pants in climes below zero without it troubling him. It was the sun and the heat that were more of a danger but he was in no danger of overheating this close to spring.

 

A whiff of snow caught Vivian's attention and he peered out from under the docks to see the entire land was covered in half a foot of snow. He climbed up from under the docks to watch men sweeping the streets of snow and getting about their early morning business. Vivian exhaled happily and walked over to a large pile of snow. He scooped it up and scrubbed it on his hands, face and neck before securing his red neckerchief back in place. He was feeling quite content at present, having had his fill of horses' blood that night. It meant he wouldn't have to feed for another two days at least.

 

After cleaning himself up, Vivian walked along the larger wharves to see the international and intercontinental ships up close. He spoke with people in a friendly manner to try to find out information on where they were going, when they would be leaving and if they had any positions available. He didn't have much experience on ships so would have to do the low-down, menial jobs. He was still looking around the docks when an exceptionally tall man came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. It was lucky he'd heard the person approaching, otherwise he would have startled at such a gesture.

 

'Greetings, Sir,' he said in a similarly friendly manner. As he did, he tried to pick the man's scent.

 

It was strange. The man wasn't any manner of creature Vivian had ever heard of in his travels. He was pale like an asvang but taller than either a human or an asvang. He had large wings too, like an air demon of some sort. He seemed far more solid than any air demon though, so perhaps he was a cross between either an air demon or a human. He didn't smell like any of those species though. He smelled more like a freshly preened bird.

 

'That is indeed what I'm after. What's the name of your ship and where are you headed?' he asked, intrigued.

 

The wind blew Vivian's hood back, revealing a long baby blonde ponytail that danced in the wind. He had soft, powder blue eyes and an immaculate complexion. He was handsome enough, without any pox marks, pimples, scars, freckles or blemishes of any kind. Aside from the massive scar across his back, his skin was perfect from head to toe. He still had that baby softness of youth and there was a happy sparkle in his eyes. He was tall, six foot plus, but not at tall as the giant who'd greeted him.

[Kotorichan]

The sight of the stranger’s face made Makyo even more determined. This boy would be perfect. Smooth skin, exotic coloring, and a pleasant voice would all please Makyo’s king.

 

Makyo kept his gentle smile and nodded slightly at the boy’s question. “Ah, of course. My ship is the Aimoln and we are returning to Eimoria which is far to the north. However we will be making a few stops along the coast, so if your destination is northward you would do well to join.” The last part was, of course, a lie. They would be making no more stops after this, but why would he admit that to this stranger? He would lose the boy’s interest. The boy wouldn’t be able to leave Eimoria without the help of a ship. So he wouldn’t want to go all that way if it wasn’t his original goal.

 

“Perhaps this is a bit of a strange offer, if you’d like I can show you to my ship to prove that I’m a man of my word.” Makyo offered, if he could just get the stranger on the ship then he wouldn’t even need to convince him. “Ah, and of course I should introduce myself. I am Makyo Rumari, assistant to His Highness, King Yaelin Mouikera. I am currently on a task given to me by my King, so I am anxious to get on my way to complete it as soon as possible.”

[Rumpleteaser]

'Aimoln,' Vivian repeated, letting the sounds of the word play across his tongue. 'I've never heard of it.'

 

'Where will you be stopping?' he asked, curious. He really was intrigued. Even the prospect of going to a new land sounded tempting if it meant he was far beyond his pursuer's reach.

 

'I'd like that,' Vivian said when he was offered the chance to look around the ship. He was interested to see what the living conditions were like, how the place smelled and what type of ship it was. It was very rare to find any ship that would venture across the ocean to other continents. His own people had made the journey generations ago and it had ended in a crash landing against the Landsend Mountains. The oceans weren't safe unless you had the blessings of the gods.

 

'Hello, Makyo Rumari. It is a pleasure to meet you,' Vivian replied. He avoided using his own name or where he was from. he didn't want anyone to know where he was. 'What goods does a ship like yours carry? I am fascinated to see an ocean-going ship. Which gods do you have helping you?'

 

Vivian laughed and shook his head a moment before giving a light bow.

'Forgive me,'; he said. 'I ask too many questions. It is only that I am curious about your offer.'