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The cold man..

Anansi

Anansi

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Jan 20, 2009
A rustling sound came through the trees of the town, well some of the few that were standing anyway and as he slept soundly something approached. Flapping and fluttering wildly through the sharp needles and branches that surrounded him from where he sat. Christmas was long over but the town for some reason or another still had its tree up and strangely enough it was where he felt comfortable. His eyes shot open as the fluttering creature came towards him and his hand shot out to crush it in his grasp his leather clad fingers gripping it tightly as his crystalline blue eyes shot open. He had panicked slightly, it had become his usual reaction to anything that moved about him as he slept. Slowly he looked down to open his hand to reveal a crumpled torn half of a poster. Spreading it out on the trunk before him as he parted his legs to straddle it and leaned forward he tilted his head. "Grand....grand what? He had a name, he had an address...but for what?" He said slowly as his eyes ran along it. Lifting up his finger he moved his tin colored hair from his eyes and ran his eyes over the poster once more.

He saw mention of food and perhaps it would be best to go to a place that was having some kind of grand event to get it rather than having to associate with local merchants who would only shoo him away for his odd appearance. He stood moving his fingers along his pale skin, it had a slight hue to it, as though it were constantly under a chill, his lips a soft blue and his veins showing slightly through his almost ethereally pale visage. His clothing was a stark contrast, a deep black, and ragged in contrast to his smooth face. His boots clinked softly as he stood. Turning he walked forward and to the trunk, then up the trunk before turning and walking down it the metal shank of the bottom of his boots giving a soft hiss with each press. On his way down he picked up a large black parcel of sorts. It was swaddled in a deep black cloth bound by various leather straps at odd angles as though its maker had been in a particular rush or just hadn't particularly cared about it. Reaching the bottom he hopped down and plodded out from beneath the thick boughs and branches of the large tree and walked slowly along down the road.

His eyes flitted along the street signs looking for the place mentioned as he walked. His body shifting uneasily as he did so while people turned to look at him and pointed slowly one by one. He hated jobs that took him to places such as this. His hair dye had run out and his skin had returned to its usual complexion in a matter of days and now all he had to go on was being some strange sort of albino with birth defects to get people to stop asking him questions or chasing him about. Few ever noticed the important things, like the fact that no steam came from his mouth or that he had been wearing the same clothes for three weeks without so much of a hint of a scent coming off of them. Stopping before the edge of town he looked up and down the face of the establishment in the distance. He didn't particularly fancy walking so he looked about slowly for some alternate form of transportation. Spotting an officer on horseback he slowly made his way over to him.
Slowly he removed the glove of his right hand and it began to give off the look of soft frost forming along his digits as he hopped up and touched a finger to the officers temple. The man's body seized up and he crumpled from his mount and into the crook of Dirael's arm. Replacing his glove he hopped onto the horse leaving the fallen officer who now gave off soft shuddering breaths in the street to quickly ride off and up to the main gate. A few minutes later he had gone through and past the gate before making his way up to the main entrance. Stepping down onto the coach stone before the house he gave the horse a firm clap on the backside sending it whinnying off in the distance as he made his way up to the door his eyes furtively glancing about.
 
The setting was much more refined then what she was used to. Crowds of nobles and high end merchants all dressed in their finery milled about, conversation and soft laughter filling the air along with tinkling wine glasses. Well dressed servants circulated with delicacies and wine, tables and chairs were set for the guests to rest and chatter, or to enjoy the performances on the beautifully crafted stage.

A young woman sat there now, slightly hunched on a chair, as she carefully tuned a fine mandolin. The torchlight nearby hit on light ash gray hair, and pale skin briefly, as well as fine made breeches and shirt. the clothing was pressed and perfectly tailored, the shirt a deep rich blue and the pants a deep grey her hair was bound from her face with a light grey ribbon, braided tightly. She was willowy and delicate, slim fingers gently tuning the mandolin as if it was well loved, her heart shaped face relaxed.

The girl began to play a series of light and smooth notes on the instrument, the sound filling the wide ballroom slowly. The conversation dwindled as most of the guests turned to listen to the girl, as her voice rose in song, her voice a clear, perfect soprano, the notes strong and sweet. She kept her head ducked a little, her long bangs covering her face to the cheekbones, hiding her eyes, whether that was some odd fashion, or simple shyness it was hard to say. But her body was relaxed, fingers moving over strings in easy practiced plucks, teasing out the gentle notes, singing in time, as the song ended and soft applause filled the area, the girl giving a shy-edged smile as it grew stronger.
 
He hadn't come for show or a song. He had heard it all, he'd even heard some of Master Anansi's angelsong, well a note or two before he felt it start to affect his mind. Snapping loudly he called the bartenders attention to himself. He placed a single gold coin on the bar and shoved it to the man before simply picking up a pitcher of water. He began to gulp it down quickly as the glass condensed, the air around his lips steaming as he drank down quickly. Licking his lips slowly after he sighed exhaling a slight mist as he did so.

Looking over he then picked up a large bottle and slipped off to find a booth sliding into one and drawing the curtain after him before he sat. Placing the parcel he carried beside him he stood it on one end and released and though its shape was smaller at its tip than its top it stood on its own power and weight as he pulled his hand back and opened the whiskey. Leaning back he removed his gloves the temperature within the booth slowly dropping as he did so before he placed his hands on the table and watched as it frosted over slightly. "I need to get back soon, tired of this." He said slowly as he shook his head then took down a deep swig from his bottle.

He'd finished his works and now he had nothing to do besides wait for orders. Those orders might come in a few hours, they might come in a few weeks, it all depended on the client. It was rare he got sent out for such a mediocre assignment but he didn't complain, at least he was in usage.
 
The song had ended and the applause dwindled, the girl taking a breath and looking at the mandolin. It's form rippled and blurred, shifting until it became a cello, which she placed lightly on the floor, drawing a well used bow from her instrument case. A few murmurs of interest came from the crowd, but nothing more, magic was a tool of performers after all. That quieted and the girl drew the bow over the strings, producing a smooth ripple of notes, before beginning to play.

A soft melody rose in the air, quiet and strangely brooding. It was as if the music was asking a question that could not be answered, or calling from a distance in a voice that could not be quite heard, but it captivated you still. As she played, the wavering flickering forms of three other players appeared alongside her, bows moving in time over spectral cellos.

Gasps of awe came from the group, as the girl played, eyes closed, head bobbing quietly in time. Illusions they were, but crafted so well they looked almost alive, playing along with the girl the added three cellos creating a pulsing, throbbing sound that send vague chills along the spine. They slowed as wound, the notes faded to the gentle plucking of strings until the three men faded and the girl looked up to a wild storm of applause.

((Here's what she played: <!-- m --><a class="postlink" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbTozgoj9OQ">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbTozgoj9OQ</a><!-- m -->))
 
He didn't care much for mages of any kind. If they used magic they fell into that category. He didn't particularly care to listen, and much as it disgusted him to do so he whispered a word and suddenly silence filled his small area. It was a tiny word of power, all it did was repeat back any sound on the opposite wave of anything generated thus creating silence. He sat in silence with himself staring down at the bottle wondering on what he would do next. He could leave but there might be more jobs, he could buy a house or some such to throw off possible suspicions or he could simply freeze the town into oblivion but that required a rainstorm and time.

Pulling out a small mirror he looked to it and sighed, it had been a while, since Anansi had his child he had been slacking, forgetting about people and missions for months on end. He wondered on why his leader hadn't relinquished control to him, or even Danyael. Dirael sighed after a bit before he put it away completely unaware of the going ons outside of the booth. Closing his eyes eventually he leaned back and closed them to take a slight nap. It had been a long while since he actually slept and while the girl kept them mesmerized he would take advantage. His soft breathing was masked by the silence and he drifted off completely in a matter of seconds.
 
The cello rippled until it became a mandolin once more as the girl sat down on the chair, resting comfortably. For a moment, the crackling sound of thunder and wind roared softly about the stage, making the guests look about curiously. Wind and birdcall echoed softly as well as the low tone of of a tin whistle. A group of specters flickered to life, gathered around the girl, with guitars, and a strange set of pipes. One began to sing in a strong, male voice, the plucking of the instruments rising, all in perfect time. The song had the very essence of the sea, the smell of the air, the quiet ebb and flow of the sea and the tones of the pipes were like a lost souls call and the cry of a seabird intertwined.

The girl's voice twined in, soft and sweet, and the melody itself spoke of regret as well, loss, what one was left with when one was all alone with a long life spanning behind them and nothing to show for it but the ghosts of memory. The music heightened, the voices of the girl and the specters heightening and intertwining, the pipe rising it's haunting call and the guests looked awed and saddened as the music faded to the sigh of the wind, the crash of waves and the lost cry of the gulls before the specters faded and silence reigned. Applause and cheering took hold and the girl bowed from her seat, her own eyes over bright as if the song had affected her as well.
 
He laid his head back and drifted into sleep. His eyes fluttering slightly as they did when he dreamed, it was an unusual side effect of Anansi's conditioning of Dirael's body. He dreamed of his youth. Running through the forest, scared, alone, dragging a huge blade behind him as he did so. His arms weak and weary, the men who had killed his father after him. On his back he carried a satchel with the heads of his now deceased parents. They had just wanted to live their lives and now they were gone. He tried no to cry but it was hard, droplets freezing as they formed before falling to the ground. He couldn't control his abilities and left a set of frosted foot prints as he ran that soon melted after him but not soon enough to hide his trail.

Then he saw him. It was a man in a clearing, he didn't look like the others. His hair was wild and down to his shoulder, its mass moving as though alive. He stood like a statue staring off into the distance, his body seeming beyond mortal in its definition, his rippled stomach didn't bear the human imperfection, the one that marked all men and women who were born. He turned to the boy, his eyes swirling, burning like the pits of hades come to welcome him. Dirael thought he had died, but he was willing to fight, running forward he was only able to get just one swing of the massive sword, his family's sword, his father's sword, its blade shimmering as beads of water came off of it forming an arch of ice as it sailed through the air. The creature before him caught it though, as if it were nothing. his fingers pressing hard enough to even dimple the blade's flat as he gripped it as his other hand came up and touched the boy's solar plexus and he felt it. It felt like the flames of the sun had gathered in his chest, as though he were aflame and would never be doused, it burned through his frosted skin leaving a glowing red mark in the shape of a hand before the boy woke up three hours later in a small cottage with the creature sitting and juggling his parents heads as though they were toys. "You're rather brave." He said to the boy slowly. "I'd like for you to come live with me, my name is Anansi and I'm someone who can teach you to live."
 
Seating herself once more and taking a breath, the girl began to play again, a simple, light tune that made the guests relax and speak among themselves, which it was designed for. She played and relaxed, taking quiet breaths to let the excitement of the past performances quiet, watching the patrons as she did so. She noticed on in a corner table...who seemed fast asleep.

Turning away she played on, slightly disgruntled by the fact that someone seemed to have slept through two full songs. Taking a breath she mentally shrugged, she didn't know who the person was, or there story (though part of her was curious) and she played on as the evening passed, the crowd well pleased which would of course lead to more recommendations for performances, something the bard quite appreciated.

(Running out of things to do.... ><)
 
He awoke and slowly sat up and sighed before he made his way out with the now empty bottle. Walking past her without so much of a glance he made his way to the counter. Putting down the bottle he simply took another and made his way back towards his booth. He didn't even move in time to the music like most of the patrons were doing, or give indication he heard it. His eyes didn't light, his lips didn't express anything.

He knew she was likely disgruntled over it, most bards would be. They loved their craft, they loved the workings of their magics on a crowd before them. They thrived on attention, an attention he wouldn't give to her, she addressed the crowd, not him, thus he had no reason to engage her, even with just his eyes.
 
Our of the corner of her eyes she saw the man stand and head back to the counter, his body moving in a uniform way, no head weaving to the music, no fingers tapping, no reaction at all. The part of her that loved to share music and see people light up when she played felt crestfallen and she ended her song to warm applause, a tiny frown on the corners of her lips. Perhaps he was deaf. She took out a small lap harp, this own designed to add vibrations to notes and she plucked a few of the higher strings, letting out a pattering of clear sweet notes and a tingling vibration, a pleasant shiver throughout the crowd.

If he didn't react that was fine, she had a whole audience, and perhaps there was enough in his life to make him not pay attention to a bard's craft.

...Perhaps he hated music.

That was a thought that sent a clear pain through the girl's heart and she shoved it away, it wasn't her business this man, and even as her curiosity nagged at her she played, the sweet, tingling song making one want to dance, or simply awaken to what life had to offer.
 
That was a thought that sent a clear pain through the girl's heart and she shoved it away
He still didn't move though it rang in his ears it vibrated his eardrum forcefully creating sound and he simply shrugged it off then leaned back and looked to her. It was a brief glance, but one of indifference to the point of almost not believing she existed. He then looked back to his bottle and kept drinking from it.

She had enough within the crowd, she didn't need his attention, and he didn't need her music. He had his own music within, his own soul that lived as fully as it could. He didn't need something else to make it find itself or bring it joy. He hummed to himself a slight song, completely different in timber from hers so his ear drums instead vibrated following his own body rather than his eardrums.
 
Well, at least he had looked at her, but it wasn't much of a consolation when it was with the attitude one gave to a small bug. She had had that sort of reaction before, with fear and disgust mixed in and didn't care to recall it. Shifting her body so she looked out to a different portion of the crowd, she smiled demurely, voice rising in her sweet soprano, singing a old romantic ballad as the night began to draw to a close.

Part of her mind couldn't shake the man, and she told herself that it was simple curiosity (as well as admittedly a bit of sore pride) that made her wonder why he seemed to be so self contained. He had not spoken to another person once, or even acknowledged them from what she could see. It wasn't her business and as she stood to take her final bows and watch the crowds disperse she told herself that she would forget the man and travel on, and that would be the end of it.
 
He looked back to his bottle and slowly sipped before he finally put it down again. It was his second bottle down and he stood without so much as a hesitation or misstep. Walking back to the bar he got another bottle passing through her field of view as he walked between her and the crowd as it was the clearest path one way and then another. He sighed softly as he sat once more. It was rather boring this bar, he contemplated on finding another as he fingered the parcel he carried.

The black cloth swaddled around the item within shifted with his fingers as he did so before he sighed and leaned back. After this bottle he told himself as he set about to drinking slowly his lips pulling from the bottle before he stood.
 
The applause dwindled and the host of the party thanked everyone for coming, moving among the guests and ushering them out of the inn's refined party room. Sighing the girl sat at the edge of the stage and spoke with the host a moment, collecting her pay and thanking him, watching the man go. Once he was gone, she headed to the bar and sat down with a cold cider, looking faintly pleased at the performance, not seeming to notice the man.
 
He made his way to the bar and put down the empty bottle. He didn't bother looking at her, he knew what she looked like well enough. He didn't forget a face, and soon he'd have to deal with it. Bard, female, attractive, slightly magical abilities, she fit the description of the optional target, now it was a matter of slaying her or simply letting her go. He sighed and turned. It had been a long few weeks, maybe he would simply just let it go and just leave town making his way back to the Chapel.
 
All had quieted in the inn, most people had left to return to their homes. The barmaids and bartender were setting to cleaning up and a peaceful air fell over the inn. That was until the door was nearly kicked open and a man strode in. The girl jerked in surprise and stiffened as she turned to the door, seeing that man that held a pendant in the air and a long knife. He was dressed in the robes of a witch-hunter, those that sought out creatures harmful to normal human life. And he was staring right at the bard, who had stood, holding her head in pain.

The pendant glinted in the air as it swung and she winced, mouth tense. The bartender's eyes narrowed "Can we help you?" he asked, voice even. The man did not spare him a glance, staring at the bard who was retreating slowly "There is a presence among you all! One of evil, that I have come to cleanse." he replied, voice cold. A look of frustration passed over the bard's face and her hand flashed near her hip. Sound blasted out from the strings of a harp, sounding louder then normal and warped as she shouted her own voice booming out and made the man stagger back, covering his ears. The bard bolted out of a side exit and into the night, the others looking dumbfounded.
 
"Shit that confirms it." He said slowly as he stood and began to walk. He made his way to the exit ignoring the man who was now bleeding from the ears and trying to regain his balance. "Amateur hour is another time...go home." He simply said as he made his way outside and into the street. He then pulled off his gloves and leaped forward, touching the wall he froze the water molecules between the wall and his hand essentially gripping it and then using his grip to climb up onto a roof. On the high ground he looked off to one side and watched as she ran. He then started off after her, his pace wasn't hurried, his movements measures, he gained ground with each step, his foot work distinctly that of a sword master without giving hints to style. He was using a technique usually used to close short distances over a long distance yet it didn't seem to wear on him at all as he moved effortlessly.

He turned a corner as she ran straight before swinging around another. He knew this city and knew that the street she was on would force her to turn. Standing above a corner she would pass he simply waited, as he did he undid a button of his cloak and placed his gloves on once more.
 
The confusion the woman had created lasted as the man staggered, glaring balefully at the other hunter. It would be awhile before he regained his bearings and the young woman used all that time she could to flee. She was moving out into the lesser streets to gain a head on the man and also to exit the city, trying to put as much distance between her and the man as possible. Most didn't try to go farther then their city limits and usually passed on a message to another hunter, but that could take months giving her some amount of peace. If the girl was another person she would have killed the hunter, then fled but it wasn't in her heart to take a life. Even now she felt badly for having to deafen him, even if it was for a short time, they had healers in this city after all.

Her mouth tensed in worry and admitted anger as she kept going. All this madness was because she was half-human, the other half made people think she was something chaotic, something evil. They were wrong, all she wanted to do really was live her life, find a place in the world and play her music. But if these hunters kept up to their job and if she couldn't escape all she could look forwards too was being burned at the stake, because she was something that they didn't bother to try and understand. She kept going, seeing a turn ahead and moved towards that street, not knowing that another person waited for her.
 
Leaping down he stood before her, his pale eyes staring at her as he stood directly in her path. He didn't bother to move or any such he simply reached up to press something into one ear then the next. His skull was too hardy for her vibrations to work and he simply watched her while he licked his lips before exhaling slowly. The air around him plummeted in temperature while he stood there looking to her. She couldn't beat him, well not in her state as it were. Slowly he walked towards her. "You didn't kill him." He said, his voice slightly changed in timber due to his inability to hear his voice clearly. "I'm taking you just have a bad rap. My orders are to kill you if possible...but my leader does like to acquire new individuals." He said slowly. "We can fight, you will lose, but in the end, I will have you." He said simply. "I'd probably not even have to use my full abilities." HE added. Now he reached into his pocket and pulled what looked like a small oblate spheroid, he looked at it and tossed it up and down slowly. "Up to you."
 
When the man leaped down, the girl skidded back, nearly falling backwards. Her blue-violet eyes were as wide as saucers and terror stood clearly out in her delicate features. He had covered his ears so her use of music and sonics would be ineffective, and she hardly had the prowess to fight. Her stomach clenched as she saw frost grow under his feet and she shook her head as he spoke. "N-no, I'm not a k-k-killer, or e-e-vil. Th-they...just think I am because of how I was born." she stated, mouth tensing and she froze as he spoke of his intentions. "I don't wa-want to fight you." she added, her voice heavily accented, sweet but with a thick stammer. She swallowed "Wh-why d-does you l-leader want m-me dead?" she asked, tense still, not realizing that she was shaking.
 
"He doesn't care if you live or die...he cares that the client is offering a rather rare metal for your assumed death. We can get you peace, peace for the rest of your days. We can teach you, support you, help you." He said slowly before he nodded as he watched her. "I know it, my parents were killed because we were different, Master Anansi spent all of his childhood on the plane of light mocked because of his appearance. We are all different in our order, we have all been through it. " He said with a smile. "I mean, if you think about it, we are all alike in a sense..." He said before he leaned in slightly. "Its your choice, your life, but in the end, you have none, I will take you one way or another." He said slowly before he leaned onto his left foot. "So...choose":
 
"Wh-who's the cl-client?" she asked, frowning and felt a stab of deeper fear that someone else was actually looking for her death. The hunters were one thing, they could be avoided and a good amount of people did not like their high and mighty ways. But to have someone new after her, that was a worrying thought. "T-teach me wh-what?" she asked again, voice still wary, she wasn't quite sure if they knew what exactly she was. To be honest she had little idea herself, and was still attempting to find out her abilities, besides what her bardic learning had given her. Sympathy crossed her face as he spoke of his parents, she had never known hers, her father had died before her birth and her mother had not contacted her aunt and uncle since she was a child. She watched him and bit her lip, looking down "I-i'll come w-with you." she murmured, holding onto her mandolin tightly, fear still playing across her face.
 
"That is not something I know, or could reveal if I did." He said slowly before he shrugged. "In any case, we can fake your death, no one will know who you are or where you are." He said slowly before he nodded. "Teach you? Well, I could teach you to fight, Xeno could probably teach you a great deal about your own voice with his wind techniques. The others are off on long term assignments but Master Anansi if he's feeling generous might make you new instruments or modify your current." He said slowly as he looked to her. "I mean he's probably seen creatures like yourself before, he's quite old and knowledgeable. "Thats a good choice, otherwise I would have struck your throat and then knocked you out." He said as he pocketed the item and turned. 'Well follow me, its a bit of a trip back to the chapel." He said curtly.
 
The young woman nodded slightly, even if he knew she didn't really have the right to press the point. Listening to him she looked uncomfortable "So, I h-have to dr-rop of the f-face of the R-realm." she stated, worry in her voice. Her mind was racing with the thoughts of her family, not wanting them to think she had been killed, or for them to be targeted. With regret she pushed that aside and clutched the mandolin tightly to her chest, shaking her head. "N-not my m-mandolin." she murmured, voice small.

When he mentioned the word 'creature' her eyes flashed "I'm not a creature!" she snapped, her stammer gone in her anger. Looking irritated she nodded, mouth tight and walked after him, looking over at him. "W-what's your n-name?" she asked, feeling that it was best that she at least know who he was.
 
"Oh no, just until we get what we want." He said in a rather nonchalant manner. "He will turn over the key, Anansi will likely go about his way and not care if he knows you're alive or not." He said slowly with a nod before he sat back. "Its fine dear, you won't even notice the difference, I didn't till he pointed them out to me." He added as he looked to her with the same neutral expression he always held. His words were sweet, but his face was the same.

"We are all creatures." He replied flatly. "Giving something a pretty name doesn't change what it is." He added soon after before he nodded to her. "My name is Dirael."
 
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