SION ASTAL. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sunderings) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pawnstorm2016-10-02 07:46 pm
sunderings) wrote in pawnstorm2016-10-02 07:46 pm
[CLOPEN] through the light that illuminates everything
Who: Sion Astal & You!
When: 10/3 - 10/8.
Where: Gammon & Caissa!
What: Kingly failure on the job, singing, and domestic affairs (oh my).
Rating: PG?!
October 3rd - 4th ⇰ Cochrane, Gammon | Photo Tour (Job/Open!)
[ He flies on high, La Vista's wings of light ablaze at his back, a camera in his hands as he photographs Gammon's natural treasures from a bird's-eye view, sailing effortlessly over the Emerald Lakes until....! There is murmurous protest from La Vista itself, and though it is far from the first time he's received complaint from his Hero's weaponry (it seems the curse of Kings, to be subject to tantrums of the weapons which they wield), this surely marks the very first instance when he hasn't been able to quell them...!
And so: he plummets, wings of light dispersing into a thousand filament-fine strands of aetherous nothingness as he falls, silvered hair streaking behind him.
Apologies, Hero, if you were enjoying a lake-side picnic directly below, this scenario may end in one of three ways: broken bones (yours, if Sion should land atop you—thank goodness he can heal!!), an expert catch, or the King's own show of grace (a wind spell, with which to break his fall, and accidentally blow your picnic away?!). ]
October 5th - 8th ⇰ Coastal District, Caissa | M-m-manaplay?! (Open!)
[ Mana streams may catch the errant Hero's eye, should they find themselves wandering Caissa's coastal district in survey of the autumnal flush of color. The farmland nearest the coast is a patchwork of deep golds (barley, bending in the wind), brighter yellows (sunflowers, resilient of seasonal cold), and orange (marigold and an array of harvest gourds), all hues encompassed by mana-threads gathered not by the windmills, their sails catching mana from the ocean breeze, but by a King's song—an incantation which holds him still, amid the flowing, perpetual motion of farmland and field. Above the sussurating wind and distant sound of sea, his voice rises, and the world resonates with his melody—
(I see a spark of life shining; I hear a young minstrel sing. A beautiful roaring scream of joy and sorrow, so extreme. There is a love in me raging, a joyous magical feeling!)
—and the mana streams dance, coalescing into a magic which gathers the zest of fallen, dead vegetation and sees it flourishing within the bounds of the spell, and all those Heroes within its healing circle rejuvenated. For this is the power of King's rank magic: drawing upon mana from nature to revitalize allies...!
...even if acting as a channel, a living, breathing, conduit, should be more taxing than Sion had initially realized. His song cutting short, he falters—swaying—but catches himself (with grace), turning the motion instead into a pivot with which to face present company!
Why, of course he noticed you. ]
Shall I sing another song for you?
October ??? ⇰ Coastal District, Caissa | CLOSED TO ALICE
[ He draws.
Inked quill taken to parchment, the Hero King's thoughts are elsewhere, far from the seaside cottage he shares with his Lady (his Lady who has been curiously absent for the vast majority of the day—wherever it is that her adventures have carried her, he knows that there will be a story to tell when she returns home, safe and sound!), adrift in a landscape which has come to life beneath his fingertips, illustrated with a cartographer's accuracy and an artist's flowing script.
He draws, and he thinks of how, nearly eight months ago to the date, he'd stood upon the edge of the Southern Country of Ali with all his Empire's might at his back, poised and at the ready to take the territories of the Republic of Belis. His campaign to see the world of Menoris united by love, all countries come together beneath a great flood of renewal, his kingdom's banner of white and blue...
Would he return to it? The vision which he'd glimpsed, burned into his mind's eye (as his own men had been, by his own hand; his own order), had it truly come to pass realms away from here?
Golden eyes narrowed, sharpened to gleaming knives in a fit of what could only be described as King's fit (of brooding), he does not sense his Lady's presence until Alice is close, beside him at the table, and there is the softest, sweetest sound--...
A kitten's mewl???
(If his eyes go wide, round as saucers in childish surprise, at least no one but Alice will glimpse the sight...!) ]
When: 10/3 - 10/8.
Where: Gammon & Caissa!
What: Kingly failure on the job, singing, and domestic affairs (oh my).
Rating: PG?!
October 3rd - 4th ⇰ Cochrane, Gammon | Photo Tour (Job/Open!)
[ He flies on high, La Vista's wings of light ablaze at his back, a camera in his hands as he photographs Gammon's natural treasures from a bird's-eye view, sailing effortlessly over the Emerald Lakes until....! There is murmurous protest from La Vista itself, and though it is far from the first time he's received complaint from his Hero's weaponry (it seems the curse of Kings, to be subject to tantrums of the weapons which they wield), this surely marks the very first instance when he hasn't been able to quell them...!
And so: he plummets, wings of light dispersing into a thousand filament-fine strands of aetherous nothingness as he falls, silvered hair streaking behind him.
Apologies, Hero, if you were enjoying a lake-side picnic directly below, this scenario may end in one of three ways: broken bones (yours, if Sion should land atop you—thank goodness he can heal!!), an expert catch, or the King's own show of grace (a wind spell, with which to break his fall, and accidentally blow your picnic away?!). ]
October 5th - 8th ⇰ Coastal District, Caissa | M-m-manaplay?! (Open!)
[ Mana streams may catch the errant Hero's eye, should they find themselves wandering Caissa's coastal district in survey of the autumnal flush of color. The farmland nearest the coast is a patchwork of deep golds (barley, bending in the wind), brighter yellows (sunflowers, resilient of seasonal cold), and orange (marigold and an array of harvest gourds), all hues encompassed by mana-threads gathered not by the windmills, their sails catching mana from the ocean breeze, but by a King's song—an incantation which holds him still, amid the flowing, perpetual motion of farmland and field. Above the sussurating wind and distant sound of sea, his voice rises, and the world resonates with his melody—
(I see a spark of life shining; I hear a young minstrel sing. A beautiful roaring scream of joy and sorrow, so extreme. There is a love in me raging, a joyous magical feeling!)
—and the mana streams dance, coalescing into a magic which gathers the zest of fallen, dead vegetation and sees it flourishing within the bounds of the spell, and all those Heroes within its healing circle rejuvenated. For this is the power of King's rank magic: drawing upon mana from nature to revitalize allies...!
...even if acting as a channel, a living, breathing, conduit, should be more taxing than Sion had initially realized. His song cutting short, he falters—swaying—but catches himself (with grace), turning the motion instead into a pivot with which to face present company!
Why, of course he noticed you. ]
Shall I sing another song for you?
October ??? ⇰ Coastal District, Caissa | CLOSED TO ALICE
[ He draws.
Inked quill taken to parchment, the Hero King's thoughts are elsewhere, far from the seaside cottage he shares with his Lady (his Lady who has been curiously absent for the vast majority of the day—wherever it is that her adventures have carried her, he knows that there will be a story to tell when she returns home, safe and sound!), adrift in a landscape which has come to life beneath his fingertips, illustrated with a cartographer's accuracy and an artist's flowing script.
He draws, and he thinks of how, nearly eight months ago to the date, he'd stood upon the edge of the Southern Country of Ali with all his Empire's might at his back, poised and at the ready to take the territories of the Republic of Belis. His campaign to see the world of Menoris united by love, all countries come together beneath a great flood of renewal, his kingdom's banner of white and blue...
Would he return to it? The vision which he'd glimpsed, burned into his mind's eye (as his own men had been, by his own hand; his own order), had it truly come to pass realms away from here?
Golden eyes narrowed, sharpened to gleaming knives in a fit of what could only be described as King's fit (of brooding), he does not sense his Lady's presence until Alice is close, beside him at the table, and there is the softest, sweetest sound--...
A kitten's mewl???
(If his eyes go wide, round as saucers in childish surprise, at least no one but Alice will glimpse the sight...!) ]
oct 5th, caissa!!
[despite how often Lenalee catches herself thinking just how strange and foreign mana is (energy in one's body, energy shared between people, energy that won't punish or destroy her bit by bit for not following its will), she has to admit]
[that the sound of that song, and the sight of the world coming alive through Sion's will, a single individual, is breathtaking.]
[She hadn't meant to wander towards him during the song, but honestly... she can't be blamed??? it was super pretty??? pretty enough that she's a little regretful that it's over. (but at least she has this memory, and she's sure Lavi or Miranda or Allen would enjoy the telling of it.)]
[Then she sees Sion falter, and immediate concern replaces some of her awe. but before she can say a thing, he's already taken notice...!! and offering to sing again??]
Oh, yes!
[it slips out before she can realize just how embarrassing that request is?? Sion looked winded for a moment there, why is lenalee like this. she flushes in embarrassment.]
I mean -- no! [lenalee stahp...] I mean, it was absolutely lovely, really! I enjoyed it very much, but you must be tired after a spell like that. I don't want to burden you further.
[and it was a spell of healing on top of a great performance too... The itches of day-old wounds (small ones) underneath her bandages are already gone, thanks to that one song. some people can do really amazing things??]
no subject
You've my thanks, for worrying. [ —there is a hint of a laugh in his voice, something airy and bright as he shakes his head, the long fall of his hair (worn loose, today, free from it's regal plait) swaying with the motion. ] But it is of no burden to me, rather... it is akin to flexing a muscle, rarely used.
I've never before practiced this method of healing, you see. To continue is to test boundaries, to see what I am capable of— [ For slowly but surely, the glow of his magic fades, its verdant color dissipating into the air, seemingly swept away by the wind. ] —and what's more... it is fun, to sing for such a sweet someone.
Might I ask what it is that's brought you so near the coast today? [ A pause, before a keen noticing—those are the strips of bandages, aren't they? ]
...you're hurt.
[ No, that isn't phrased as a question, however gentle the King's voice may be. ]
no subject
[He doesn't seem like a bad person to get to know, either.]
[sweet someone tho... sion, pls??? the number of times Lenalee gets compliments back home: under 10 since komui's always around to destroy. here have some minute fluster, before she manages it long enough to reply]
...Oh. [she reaches up to touch one of the band-aids on her face, then she smiles brightly.] Yes, but I'm fine now, thanks to you. Your song healed me.
[except if he's going to take his turn worrying!!]
I got these while training today -- I wasn't doing anything as amazing, but I guess you can say I was testing my boundaries too.
[is lenalee the type to motherhen over people who push themselves too hard while simultaneously pushing herself too hard??? yes]
no subject
...and it is with a graceful step that Sion bridges the distance between them, standing, now, within arm's reach. And ah, he is a true motherhen (silly worrywart, silly silver King someone, once upon a time, had called him) reaching out with a delicate touch to lightly rest the backs of his knuckles against Lenalee's forehead, brushing back the fringe of her hair as though he meant to check for signs of a fever.
But really, it's more than that.
(By way of touch, one might discern another's flow of mana, checking for injuries gone unseen if the healer is practiced enough.) ]
Forgive my forwardness, but... [ A cant of head, an apologetic smile as his eyes fall closed for the briefest of moments, silvered lashes fanning against his cheek as he seems to study a particular invisible something, visible only in his mind's eye. He does hope it won't be too uncomfortable for his new-found companion, for the bonds of mana are those of exchange, and Sion's energy is a slow suffusion of golden-touched warmth and light, resonant of something beautiful and boundless love for all things alive. ] ...I had to confirm it, for myself.
[ ??? And then, a slow withdraw of his hand. ]
Your mana levels are a touch too low for my liking, but that is to be expected from training. [ A pause, a step taken back for his companion's comfort. ] Aside from that, though, I am happy to pronounce that you are well.
But... I cannot help but wonder at what sort of exercise you might have been doing, to have earned this— [ He taps his own cheek with an artful forefinger, in reference to Lenalee's bandages. ] —along with the others.
no subject
[well, she might have started just a little when Sion moves closer (that's an ingrained habit she's still learning to shake meeting people for the first time), but his touch is pure concern, and his mana feels very comfortable. somehow, it reminds her a little of Allen's and Lux's, but different. wholly his.]
[Lenalee's mana is a deep purple, and it's the feeling of standing on the edge of a cliff with only the sky at your back and below, with the feeling that taking a step might send you plummeting (her friends gone, her world gone,) or flying. he'll feel that she doesn't have any noticeable injuries, just those low mana levels, and a body that's been hurt so many times that it's too used to stitching itself back up.]
[but... Lenalee immediately blushes, gathering herself as Sion steps away. Sion... reminds her of Anita, a little. They were both beautiful, and exceedingly warm people.]
Ah... Thank you. [doctor sion!!! anyway, as she finally gets her fluster under control Again] I was just flying. The magic weapon they gave me lets me fly, but it's different from how I flew back home.
[she indicates the sparkly shoes on her feet, with a small glimmer of chagrin that she quickly suppresses]
If I put enough mana into them, then I can fly faster. So I was mostly testing that out today.
[and falling into trees and bushes frequently because Lenalee is still overdoing it...]
no subject
She is... really a wonder, isn't she? The feel of her mana lingers with him, even now, as he regards her with a gentle smile, the long fall of his hair cascading down and down, over his shoulder as he cants his head to the side. Lenalee is all the majesty of standing upon the edge of glory, at the horizon line where earth bleeds into sky, and having faith that even if one should plummet, it might always be possible to build wings on the way down and fly.
And so, Sion is not entirely surprised when she mentions the nature of her Heroic weaponry—heels which sparkle and catch in the noonday sun, reminding him of the glass slippers of another Hero, dearly cherished and now gone—instead, his smile only brightens, his hands clasping together (in an innocent gesture of exuberance) at his front! ]
If you should like to test your ability again, it would make my heart glad to be of aid. Here, there is only open sky and coastal wind— [ And no obstacles (trees or bushes) to fall into! ] —and if you were to fly hand in hand with a friend...
[ There is a pause, a breadth of a moment before La Vista's wings unfurl from his back, comprised of holy light channeled through the faceted link of gemstones which gild his shoulders in place of epaulettes. And for every precious stone, there is a matching wingblade, ethereal in construct as they bathe the area surrounding in their phantasmal glow. ]
...you would have mana enough to fly as fast, as fiercely as you would like. [ Golden eyes catching with violet, somehow, his next words ring as resonant, profound as he extends his hand (guileless in gesture, his palm bare-faced and open) for her to take, if she so wished to. ] I vow to you this, my Lady: I will not let you fall.