World Tree MUSH

  Lucatiel of Mirrah has been drifting about the World Tree, travelling here and there where the wind blows, as well as her unmistakable-as-anyone-else travelling companion, Priscilla. Although it may seem a roundabout and impulsive path, there's some reason behind it. In the particular area Lucatiel has found herself in of late, there have been rumours of a traveller dressed a bit like her -- that is to say, her raiment as an Elite Knight of Mirrah.

  She's more interested in these rumours than outward appearances may let on. In public, she has been exactly the same dour and laconic woman cultivating an aura of mystery as she always is, unconcerned by the affairs of the world. In private... the woman's been showing a little more life than she usually does. Something like a mix of anticipation, anxious hope, and a sense of urgency have been driving her. The trail's been frustratingly obtuse, sometimes circling back on itself; sometimes going cold for stretches.

  If there's even a whiff of a chance she might find Aslatiel of Mirrah, though, Lucatiel will do anything.

  Tonight, the moon hangs nearly full and waxing in the void of the night sky. They've made their way through an obnoxiously dense brush forest to the nearest town, where an inn charges ludicrously high prices to weary travellers because there isn't any competition around. Still, it's four walls and a roof, and actually kind of a nice place, built in the adobe style, with hand-crafted tile floors.

  Outside the private rooms, there's a large open courtyard with a garden of hardy desert-like plants on one side. Most of the expanse is just grass, and that's where Lucatiel is. She's been restless, and so she's been engaging in physical activity to burn it off, whether training with her Mirrah sand-dancer, Naruiel, or practising her skill with her blades. This particular commons is away from any of the other rooms. In fact, she made a point of getting the most remote lodgings she could. Lucatiel doesn't like mingling with other people... and they don't always like mingling with her, either. The room is at least big enough to accommodate Priscilla herself, thankfully.

  Tonight she has her horse on a long lead, holding aloft a stick to use as a signal. At her gestures, he proceeds through his paces, and it's clear why he's such a highly-regarded animal: Masterfully trained, and with gaits smoother than honey. He nearly seems to float off the ground, and one could imagine why he would be such an asset in battle. The opposition would have to catch him before they could threaten his rider.

  She's wearing only her silks, tonight, having eschewed her armour for freedom of movement. The mask and hat have also been left in her room; her head is bare, the line of her braid silvered by the light of the moon. Shadows carve beneath her eye where the Hollowing has blighted her skin, and the afflicted eye is entirely too bright, milky white lit by the moon. Her other is cast in shadow.

  It's times like these when she seems at her most relaxed -- focused on a purpose; left to do more than just wander.

    Priscilla is rarely an issue when roaming. The pale half-dragon's ability to, well... vanish... is pretty helpful, and her natural shyness means she doesn't mind just hiding in the background while Lucatiel does the talking. Undead or not, the normally masked woman is the one who is more sociable to most inhabitants. In return she is grateful for the accomodations that can fit her. Sure, she often has to sit with knees tucked and rarely gets an actual bed, but she doesn't seem to really have those desires, so long as she can stretch her legs the next morning.

    Unfortunately she tends to revert to being invisible when she's sulking or thoughtful, so she sort of... appears out of nowhere at times. Like now. At least it isn't to say anything too blunt... while she's still a cold and distant figure, having someone from her homeworld has let her 'loosen up' enough that she can speak freely. "Thine focus has grown intense, Lucatiel. This search means much to you... and it pleases mine eyes to see such purpose."

    She settles, leaving plenty of room for the training of the animal, not wishing to spook the beast. "This is good," she murmurs. "It shows that thine Humanity is still strong within thy soul."

  The sand-dancer pricks up his ears and looks over mid-stride, seemingly at nothing, and Lucatiel glances over her shoulder with her good eye. Shadowed emerald scans the commons for a moment, but Priscilla doesn't reveal herself yet, so she turns away.

  ...So of course it's Lucatiel that spooks, and not her horse.

  The woman jumps and whirls in the same movement, reaching for a weapon that isn't there. Naruiel just snorts, pricking his ears and whickering to the half-dragon in what must be equine cheer.

  Swallowing and taking a posture of complete I-meant-to-do-that, the knight inclines her head politely in greeting; formal and yet casual at the same time. "Lady Priscilla." Her focus settles a little more directly on the other woman. Her tone of voice is as dour and leaden as it ever is, but there's a subtle hint of... something, in the undertone. "I would find my brother, and seek the means to lift the Curse from him." Her voice lowers; an admission she wouldn't give up to anyone else. "And for myself."

  Lucatiel lowers her arm, coiling the lead around it and striding toward Naruiel to unhook the lead and turn him loose. "Is it?" She tilts her head to regard Priscilla over her shoulder, arching a blonde brow. "I wonder, sometimes. I have lost time, in the past. And every time I return from the threshold of death, I know the Curse is doing its work." She sighs, turning her head to watch her horse as he frisks across the lawn. "He is a valuable asset in battle, but the real reason I am thankful to have brought Naruiel with me... I believe he helps me to cling to my Humanity, as well. And travelling as well with you." Priscilla is good company. She doesn't judge, and she's not too talkative.

  All that to say, Lucatiel's holding her own, for now. She doesn't generally talk about the nightmares, but her travelling companion may have noticed. Instead, she tosses her head, slinging the rope of her braid over her back, folding her arms around the coiled lead as she straightens. "The trail has gone somewhat cold again, but I believe we may be on the right track. Once I investigate this abandoned farmstead for the blacksmith in this wretched hamlet, we may be on our way towards the next witness. I am bound to catch up to him if I can move quickly enough." Her mouth curls in a cynical half-smile. "If, that is, this truly be my brother."

    "One can hope," is all Priscilla says to all of that. Or is that all? She looks thoughtful, then gives a thin smile. "I have no human blood in mine body, so I do not truly understand. Yet I have some thoughts to share from what I have obsered here, in these worlds, in travels both with thineself and mine own."

    Nodding a pleasant 'greeting' to Naruiel, Priscilla rises, somehow managing to hold graceful motion despite her size. The pale woman considers how to say this, then launches into a mild tone. "Hope is what keeps thine mind as thine own. For thy sibling, would'st he search just as strongly for thine presence, with the mark thine actions have made? For this would keep thine sibling's mind sharp against the Curse as well."

    She raises a finger. "Thine actions are kind and good, if not thine exterior, Lucatiel. Remember that one so Cursed can have more Humanity than the humans that wander the lands without the Darksign. In such a fashion, thine Curse can be thine salvation in finding thy kin."

  When Priscilla mentions having thoughts to share, Lucatiel does her the courtesy of presenting her undivided attention. Her mismatched stare is direct, the blank eye simply blighted, but not blinded, like the whorl spreading across her face. There's definitely no trouble with her other eye as it fixes directly on her half-dragon travelling companion.

  Her expression is thoughtful, somehow more emotive than it usually is. Without the mask, it's easy to remember that this woman is human, however much she may think that humanity is leaking away. At length, the corner of her mouth twitches. Her low chuckle is soft.

  "I thank you, Lady Priscilla, for your perception. I think perhaps you understand Humanity better than we ourselves do, at times."

  "There are things I yet refuse to compromise on, and so long as I can uphold those tenets, perhaps it may help me preserve what remains of my humanity." She falls silent, gaze lowering. "I would like to believe that he would have spent equal if not more effort, yes. Aslatiel is my other half, as I am his. We are as one soul in two bodies, no matter whom we surround ourselves with, nor what we do in our lives: Always we will be bound fast; a team, brother and sister against the world." She smiles softly. "It sounds the foolish assertion of a child, but we have endured much side by side. The sentiment is not wrong, at its core... there is much and more we would each do for the other. I know he would try to come to my aid."

  "If, that is, he were aware I was in need."

  ...if not thine exterior, Lucatiel. The fencer doesn't quite grin, but there's a definite quirk to her mouth; good humour she might not necessarily show to anyone else. "Well. I've a reputation to keep, my lady. I musn't appear too soft, or mayhap our lord would not be inclined to accept my services. I should like to think that when we find each other, we would return to Mirrah. It is a hard land, but it is our home. We carved a life out for ourselves with our swords and our loyalty to our lord; a fine life, considering what we came from. We would have a place to return to."

  She looks more directly at Priscilla, ducking her head, eyes closing momentarily; both an acknowledgement and gesture of respect. "Thank you, Lady Priscilla." Her eyes open, halfway. "It is but one more trial to bear. Some days, it weighs more heavily than others, but I shall bear it. For as long as I am able, I will fight against the Curse, with all that I may summon up. It will win, in the end. It always claims its victims in time... but mayhap I will prolong it enough to seek a cure."

  A glance is thrown to the inn surrounding him, and her mouth twists to one side, disdainful.

  "...Gods, I hope the cure isn't here. I will be glad to quit this wretched place."

    Priscilla clasps her hands before her, looking thoughtful. She does this even before Lucatiel has finished speaking, but her eyes turn to the Undead when the topic shifts to the cure and such. This seems to give her something of an idea. "Forgive mine brazen suggestion, yet mine thoughts have turned to a plan which is far more against mine nature than most. I would'st bring two points to thine attention."

    She lifts one finger, her tail swaying thoughtfully behind her. "The first... that the Darksign hath no cure in mine homeland nor yours, that mine knowledge speaketh of. Mayhap the cure is out in this strange land, yet if so it must be involved and lengthy, for thine Curse is upon thy very soul. There, we may find the answer... in worlds and peoples with such knowledge to touch upon the very essence of a being."

    She lifts another finger. "As to finding thine sibling, you speaketh that his attention would turn if he had knowledge of your struggle. This search we do is too quiet. We must be bold, so that thine visage is spoken about far and abroad, to bring thine sibling toward your deeds and exploits. What say you?"