video | wrong turn at albuquerque

[peacockherald]

Who: Vanyel Ashkevron & Anyone
Broadcast: Video, Fleet Wide
Action: SS Marsiva
When: After waking up & the week of April 12–18

<sub>[ Vanyel comes awake slowly, head pounding, feeling like he had just spent a week recovering from magic sickness, though at least he didn't feel the need to vomit. Blinking, he looks around the room, sitting up gingerly, clearly cautious. Looking down at himself, he's not surprised to see his Whites (which to anyone else would look medieval, a period costume), perfect and pristine, boots sitting at the end of the bed, polished within an inch of their life.

Over a series of long moments, those watching can see the realization dawn on his face that whatever he had been expecting, it was not this. Not the metal walls, or the sheets that covered him. Eyes dart around, trying to make sense of it all, lips set in a hard line. Vanyel suddenly stops, eyes glazing as if far away, his already pale skin paling further, hands shaking some in his lap, head hanging and his dark hair falling forward to shield his face. It takes several long moments for him to come out what could only be shock.

He swung his feet over the edge, reaching for his boots, tugging them on before standing. Clearly he has no idea his every move is being broadcasted. He sat there, rubbing his hands against his thighs. ]</sub>

It was to much to hope for, I suppose...

_{[ Another pause, gathering thoughts. ]}

If anyone is there, my name is Vanyel Ashkevron.

_{[ Now why would he do that? Perhaps this has happened before? Or maybe he expects guards outside the door. Anything was truly possible. ]}

And I would very much like to know where I am.

Comments

[forcemageure]

[ Unlike the ...polite snorts of most people, yes. ]

Oh, I don't know. Many fewer people have tried to stab me in space than on land. What's a vacation if not fewer stabbings?

[peacockherald]

_{[ It was very polite, really. ]}

Dare I ask what encouraged so many people to want to stab you on land?

_{[ Because that was quite the admission upon first meeting someone. There's definitely a dark brow rising up in question. ]}

[forcemageure]

Oh, that's how adventuring goes. You tell one bandit they ought not to pillage and plunder quite so much, and it's all downhill from there.

[ This is not much of an exaggeration, actually. ]

But enough about little old me. My point is that except for the terrible food, lousy accommodations, and constant invasion of privacy, here's not so bad. You might even like it!

[ He does! But he was also a] in the middle of a war back home and b] dead. This is pretty preferable. ]

[peacockherald]

Ah, I gather your meaning. I suppose that is why the Karsites and their wrysas were always so intent on making sure I never made it back to Haven from their borders.

_{[ He had the scars to prove that they had never succeeded a few times, though his jerkin covered them at the moment. ]}

Perhaps you could tell me a little more of you - a name perhaps? It seems a shame that someone as handsomely helpful as yourself should go unremembered save for your face.

_{[ Flirting? Possibly. He was more used to it now, in the wake of Paradisa, his concern over his proclivities long gone, but it was also somewhat natural for him, these polite charms and little compliments. ]}

[forcemageure]

[ Hawke drapes a hand over his heart in slow motion. ] Surely my face ought to be enough. If not my cunning wit, or excellent hair.

[ A full three seconds here are occupied by a crooked, beamy grin. Wait for iiiiiiit-- ]

Handsome and helpful, did you say? Well, you've struck alliterative gold; I'm called Hawke.

[ He wraps one fist in an open palm, leaning over them to slather the little video monitor with a look somewhere between amusement and idle interest. Things have seemed oddly quiet since the attacks of the 5th; before he would have - sarcastically - called it restful, now it's just the lowest rung of unnerving. Commiseration with the Fleet's newest acquisitions passes the time. ]

So! Now that we're acquainted, what's a wrysas, and who's a Karsite?

[peacockherald]

_{[ This he could do. He could charm and politely flirt, play the courtier. Not that Hawke was aesthetically displeasing, he was indeed handsome, but he tried not to think to much on it. ]}

Handsomely helpful Hawke, it is a pleasure to meet you.

_{[ Certainly it was restful for Vanyel. Paradisa had been a hub of commotion before the doors had opened, promising to lead them home. False promises for Vanyel, as it turned out. Or perhaps not. Who knew how this tin metal prison called them here. Perhaps it was more powerful than the magic of the Castle. Perhaps that was why they had been sent away at all - the magic failing. A moot point now, but one to ponder when he was not in conversation with a handsomely helpful young man. ]}

Karsite is the country that borders my own Valdemar, in my home world. We are not allies, to say the least. Their mage-priests declare myself and other Heralds white demons and will attack if we come close to the borders. Wyrsa are scaled dog demons they summon to do battle alongside them, though they have more in common with snakes than dogs.

[forcemageure]

Your name is Vanyel? Of Valdemar? Really? Let me guess, they call you Vanyel the Voluptuous. Vanyel the Variegated? The Velutinous? You must have been a difficult birth.

[ ...Anyway. He's actually listening, despite the. Absurdity. ]

So you don't get on with your neighbors, is what I'm hearing. And your neighbors have ....demon snake dog things! That must be an adventure.

[peacockherald]

_{[ His cheeks might grow a touch pink at those nicknames, but his mouth curls in a soft smile and he shakes his head lightly. ]}

None of those, actually. My aunt delights in calling me peacock, though.

_{[ And he liked to believe he was much easier than his hulking brothers. ]}

It does make getting home more difficult than I would like. But no, never a dull moment. They have given me one of my more creative nicknames - The White Demon.

[forcemageure]

Really! [ That's great. ] I must say I wouldn't have taken you for the strutting sort.

[ Because, you know. Peacocks. Moving on. ]

Pray tell what you did to earn that one. Unless it's that you're an actual demon, then please feel free to keep it to yourself.

[peacockherald]

_{[ It's not until he hears the inflection in that word that he realizes the mistake he might have just made. But, to late now. And he had been called worse things in his life. ]}

Even Heralds are allowed their small vanities.

_{[ Moving on, yes. ]}

It is what they call all Heralds. They distrust our bond with our Companions and our magic and the fact we do not follow the edicts of their god.