Posted by SE. Nicodemus on November 15, 2008, 12:43 am
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Keir curls up upon the stallion’s withers, his claws curling and uncurling in a very feline way. Nicodemus’ flames are quiet, and the phoenix that flew above them hovered closer, until now she took her perch behind the Wolverine. A strange group of creatures; both magical and simple alike, all together. The stallion smiles, for all of them. He steps forwards, and with his fore, he strikes the ground before him once more, a clicking noise coming before a small flame pops from the ground.
Nico. It was a name bestowed on him from his beloved Nyota. And it seemed that these days it was gaining in popularity. He smiles, softly then. Silence comes with ease to him, because it was something he relished. Silence was the key to wisdom, the key to so much. He thinks faintly on water, and the ripples it held. When it was loud, it is difficult to see. Yet when you allow it to settle, it becomes clear. Nicodemus’ eyes shut then, and he feels a strange sensation tingling upon his neck, and the scar becomes obvious among his others. It is cold where the rest of him is hot. He sighs greatly then, summoning air to push his flames ahead of him. He shudders now, because with knowledge came such great sacrifices.
His eyes open when she speaks, a chill running through him as he abandons Saphira and the shard. But not for long, because she speaks of shards once more. She speaks of things that were already hard in his mind. The scar on his neck glimmers white, and for a moment, his flames leave him totally. For a moment there is nothing but a chestnut stallion before her, and for that moment, he seems completely weak, and the scar seems impossibly bright and powerful. He turns, revealing to her the scar in all of it’s horrid wonder. But the flames return then, and with them a strange smile to his face, one that was not his own. It was far too harsh, even for him.
“Ah. Yes, the shards. They are the source of our Elements. They are….bad things.” Nicodemus laughs then the voice that escaped from him then was not truly him. It was too maniacal, laced with venom and emerging from a being not himself. “They have Keepers. Ones that we can take note of by the….strange markings that they bear. Our very own King” He laughs again. “Stelios. He bears the mark of a shard, the three claw scratches upon his chest holds him.” He shudders and staggers, his breath coming in huffs then, struggling to regain control over himself. The voice that comes now is kinder, more him, though still somehow not right (it is too shakey, too weak) “And those….like me.” He nods, turning his head in shame, once more showing her the pale scar on his neck, healed by their own Nyota, yet still fresh and new. “Those who hold more simple scars, are those who have been bitten by the Keepers. The Keeper’s bite is poison, like that of a snake. It binds us to them, makes us do things that we do not…want to do.” He steps forwards, the pull of the shard unmistakable. The evil in his head whispered to him, but Nicodemus was stronger than he thought he was.
He laughs then, kindness returning to him as it always would (he hoped). “If you do not learn how to quiet your mind, you will never be able to hear the whisper of the truth, dear Arnleif.” His words are wisdom then, old sayings that he likes to quote. He was a sucker for that kind of thing. He likes you, don’t get him wrong. “To rise, you must complete an objective acquired from your teacher…me.” He smiles again. “I have decided your objective, Arnleif.” He whispers, his voice a pant, tired, so tired. “You will learn of the lands yourself. You will go to Ni’Srilan and teach one of theirs about Andarin. Of our people, it’s leader, and anything else you can.”
He nods then, turning to Andarin. The scar was concealed then by shadows, and soon, all that she could see of Nicodemus was the glow of his flames, and the beating of Andraste’s wings in her ears. His voice comes distantly then. “Seek me out in Andarin, home, if you will. Tell me of your travels and your observations there! Remember to quiet your mind, and you will hear clearly, Arnleif.”
phoenixsong
Slave to Saphira