A Lost Wandering [Private/Razakath]

The wind was virtually non existent, despite the altitude in which she walked at. They were high, soaring over the majority of the lands, but the woman didn't pay much attention to it. She had a greater prize in mind; a small village settling in as a 'midway' point in the mountainous terrain. From there, paths had been carved out to reach and connect to the other major cities around the place. However, that wasn't the main reason that she was travelling there.

No, she had a greater prize in mind.

Her finger tapped against her vest as she walked, wearing her rather common attire. White shirt, leathery and brown vest, pants and sturdy brown shoes. Nothing much aside from that really. But as she walked, the rocky ground beneath her did nothing to unsettle her sure footing as she continued, her mind almost lost in thought. Her head was held high, vision clear as it could be, especially with her dying eye. Each day her vision in that damaged lessened, a tiny, small sliver became blurrier than the previous day. Over time, it would finally become nothing, a simple, useless and grey eye housed in place. But where she was going, what she sought in the black markets was simple.

Vyllaea had caught wind of a herb which could prevent her eyesight from failing. A fools errand perhaps, but something that she'd been craving for years and as such, she came out of her self inflicted exile to seek it out. But idly, she wondered if she would have the honour of meeting her siblings once more as she wandered around. Honestly, probably not, but she could still hope for such a thing.

She was just reaching a small crest, a small sigh coming from her as she did so. There it was; the village she'd been after for so long...

Meanwhile, a man walked along the path near a crest as it wound its way upward towards the vast sky above, a long black cloak flowing behind him. He took steady breaths, taking in the rich crisp mountain air as he carried himself up the crest, keeping an eye for any promising glints hidden within the stone. While it was his goal to leave the village every now again during his children's naptime, it was in order to become stronger and much more powerful. Besides, he never left long-- just for a few hours, long enough for his offspring to catch some z's and get up for a snack if they wanted one (Razakath always leaves apples for them). However, sometimes the father could swear he saw a glint in the rock on the cleft, tempting the mind of the man with daydreams of gems and precious stones that could buy him and his family out of their tough position. They could barely get through the month without starting to ration their food into small bits. But that's what Razakath wanted to change-- one day, his family will be prosperous with all the food they could eat and all the respect they could get from the town. But alas, this was all a mere dream.

Nothing more.

Much to Razakath's disappointment, there was no sign of treasure today, nor anything that could trick him into believing so. He sighed, but didn't slow down. He kept walking until he reached the top of the crest, where he would often head deeper into the mountains for a secluded spot to practice. But today, something unexpected caught his eye.

The village often got plenty of travellers due to its location in the mountains. Mercenaries and traders often visited for business, but for some reason this particular woman caught his attention. Razakath was getting some sort of vibe from the lady. . . A sort of vibe that told him that despite her seemingly average appearance, she was certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Razakath wasn't sure if he liked that or not. Or to approach her for that matter. He hesitated. He was certainly in her line of view now-- if he didn't say anything, maybe she would. Or she could be strangely antisocial like me.

So, without saying anything, and hoping to whatever cosmic god-like force was out there that this wouldn't turn out to be an awkward situation where the person just stared back and then they just walk away and they couldn't make eye contact later on without feeling weird and uncomfortable. So Razakath stood still, studying the human (or so he assumed) before him, taking in her features and her scars. Finally, after a silence, he gruffly said, "You must have quite the story behind those markings of yours. Not that I care about it or anything." He glared away from her, casting his fiery gaze back to the village quietly, waiting to see if she would react.

There was something, or more accurately, someone walking back towards her as she continued down the path. A man, short blackened hair, a bit of a gruffy appearance to him, not really much to look at. Vyllaea almost wanted to turn her nose up at him and continue walking, a look of distaste burning in her emerald eyes for a few moments. However, she quickly closed her eyes, exhaling heavily. That was no way to treat someone, even if he was of a gender that did so much harm to her.

Originally, she was going to walk right on by him, however, that quickly changed as the man addressed her; questioned her. With a small laugh, she shook her head, turning to face him. "Oh, you truly have no idea what goes on behind the scenes. And you can't even see them all..." Her voice trailed off, a small, aggrivated look in her eyes. Should she?

Yes?

Or no?

Ultimately, yes won out.

"Are you from the village, just down there?" She asked, indicating it with a raised hand, almost undisturbed by the presence of power that she felt from him, signalling he was no ordinary man. Quite like herself, potentially. "Is it true that there are... Herbs which can aid with eyesight?" She may as well ask, otherwise she'd waste her valuable time chasing down a dream.

At her brisk, snarky remark Razakath merely curled his lip in slight amusement, his brow knitting together as his eyes of ember narrowed ominously to the woman. So there were more scars than the ones he could see upon her. Well, that was a good conversation-starter apparently. What better way to start a talk than hinting at a dark, battle-ridden backstory?

All Razakath did was roll his eyes at the woman's snap, his lips losing their slight grin as he continued having a blank expression upon his face. His gaze following her hand, he nodded briskly before stepping forth to stand on the very edge of the crest. If he took one more step he would fall, but he was not frightened. He had stood here before, and could keep his balance. "Yes, I live there. Cozy little hamlet if you ask me. About the herbs, I'm not too sure. I don't see why it's not possible, so I think it could be true." He moved his head to look into the woman's eyes. They were a vibrant shade of green that made Razakath think of precious emeralds. He wondered why she would need the herb-- her eyes looked fine to him, perfectly healthy. Perhaps she needed it for a family member?

"Traders do come through here often though," went on Razakath, turning his eyes back to his home, "plenty of all crafts. I don't think it'll be hard to find an alchemist. . . Even one from the black market, if that's the place you're looking for," he added, glancing at the lady without moving his head.

So there was a chance, but the man didn't know. She almost wanted to spit out that it was typical of someone of his likeness as to not really know about that sort of thing. However, she wanted to try and at least keep some form of kindness. Or at least, that was what Vyllaea continuously told herself, day after day, even when there was no one really around her to know. Her hand lowered, head tilting to the side as her long white hair curled and fell over her shoulder. She probably looked incredibly old... But truly, she wasn't that old. Neither was she young.

Ah, the curse of not aging as fast...

He lived there though, this man did. How he stood so boldly on that edge and without a sign of fear on his face... She could tell that he was a local, simply by that stance. But something interested her far more than that did; He knew of the black markets. A slight laugh wanted to leave her lips, crack through those pale things. But she didn't. Why would she anymore? "I see... I suppose that means I'm going to have to look for them myself. But hopefully they'll be there." She almost did smile. Who would want to go against her down there and hide that information from her? Probably no one, once they-

With a slight nod of her head, she turned herself away from him, going to continue walking back down there. "Thank you, I appreciate the information you've given me. But, I should leave you to it now." She spoke with surety, a newfound energy in her step as she would make her way down there once more. Would it be considered rude to keep going, would it be rude to ignore them and leave them there? Oh well. Her eye wasn't going to fix itself, and now that she was walking back down towards the sun and light, if Razakath looked, he would notice the one housing the scar was a tinge greyer than the other. A sign of her eye failing her. Dying every day. Like it had since he-...

She paused in her stride, a sigh lightly escaping her lips.

Why did that come up...

Now of all times...?

The hybrid's orange eyes followed the woman as she walked, watching her stroll away. She might be sarcastic and, well, kind of amusing despite Razakath already meeting her, he still wasn't sure if he liked all the danger signs being sent to him. It seemed that power itself resonated from this woman, whoever she was. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. She definitely seemed like trouble to the town. . . The very town that housed his most precious treasure.

He decided then and there that he cannot let her out of his sight.

Razakath hesitated before following her steadily, keeping a keen eye on her. As he gazed, something unusual caught his attention. "Hey." It seemed like the scar on her face was darker than the rest, the one that went right over her eye. Didn't the woman day something about herbs for healing eyesight. . . ? "What exactly do you need those herbs for? This isn't bothering you, is it?" He motioned with his hand quickly to the scar over her eye, a genuine curiosity in his gaze while he tried to hide it by looking emotionless, as always. A thin wisp of smoke snaked from his fingertips, barely visible as the wind carried it away within the mountains to a place Razakath will never see it again.

Vyllaea had paused in her step, her ears hammering in her chest. His cyan eyes looked to her, his soft smile which lifted her heart. The man that saved her from the eternal turmoil of her father's wrath, the man who risked it all to save her... was the same man that caused her this pain. His soft hair, the blonde which it held, she could remember when he'd used so much of his powers that it was streaked with black. Black.

Black like her heart.

Black like his.

Like the void left behind as he tried to tear her throat out.

The sword that broke through his skin, the maddened expression on his face which slowly died as the weapon sang its song. A song of death. An icy embrace. Her hand clenched, tightly on her side. It hurt. It always did. The sound of rocks made her snap out of her trance, head turning to face him again. He was curious about the herbs which she required. Honestly, it was simply because of her eye, as he probably had guessed as he gestured towards it with his hand. Or at least, to his own face with his hand. "A long time ago, some years actually, my eye was sliced by a strike of lightning, burned and damaged beyond repair. Even though I tried to fix it, each day I lose vision in it. Honestly, I can't see clearly out of it, it's... blurry." Vyllaea explained, hoping that it would clear up any confusion that they had had.

But then she realised what she was doing. Why did she need to explain herself to a mere man? Shrugging internally, she cut herself off again. What was the point? They were just going to burn her anyway. A small wisp of smoke got caught in the wind, taking it away from her. Unlike like the turmoil that she carried, alone, it left, never to return.

With that on her mind, she continued down to the village. "I take it that these herbs were more likely to be in the black markets?" Vyllaea would ask as she continued to walk rather carefully down the path. Her foot met an unexpected turning one, her ankle twisting a little. But she quickly regained her footing, a frustrated sigh leaving her lips.

"I truly do need to go out more... I'm so not use to this terrain- Daemian would be so unhappy with me..." She mumbled quietly, almost inaudible. Unfortunately, the small, slightly blowing wind would catch her words, happily presenting them to her new 'companion' before floating away.

Just like the smoke.

The father continued to eye the woman, taking in the traits of the scar over her eye in which he referred to. He raised an eyebrow curiously at her story. He wasn't sure if he believed her words, particularly because of the mark's strange color. Or maybe she was telling the truth. . . Perhaps it was a magical lightning that struck her. Razakath merely tilted his head, his expression blank with no trace of emotion. All he responded was "How unfortunate." in a cool, icy tone before continuing to follow the lady as she proceeded in walking down to the village. He kept himself a few feet behind in order to keep an eye on her, but he kept himself talking to prevent an awkward silence befalling upon the two.

"I believe so," spoke Razakath, moving his head to look at the hamlet below. "If it is a rare plant, I think it's likely. If you've come here just to get your hands on it, I assume it can't be found in your typical flower shop." When she slightly twisted her ankle, the man's eyes flew open and he instinctively took a step forward, hands posed to help her. But she had already gotten herself and regained her footing, and Razakath then realized he was just about to help the person he didn't fully welcome into the village. Raising two children has made him more willing to leap to the rescue of others, even if they weren't his offspring. He quickly fixed his posture before the lady could catch it, making his back straight and shoulders squared. He rolled his eyes, mainly in frustration at himself.

"Well, maybe this Daemian person can persuade you into getting out somewhere else. It is very deadly in this area. One wrong step at the wrong place, and you're dead." His tone was almost patronizing as he spoke to the woman. He was still frustrated at himself for almost helping her, and even more suspicious of her presence.

"Trust me, dear, I'll be able to find them. Black markets aren't exactly foreign to me." Well, it was partially true. Daemian showed her a few several years ago in other small towns, it wasn't really finding them which was an issue, it was more a case of the people in there that were. They tended to be incredibly unhelpful, penny pinching, theives and just all around not too nice to be around. She wanted to scowl. Vyllaea probably would have to shove people around to even get what she wanted. In all honesty, she wasn't looking forward to that at all, but if it meant that she could stop the deterioration in her eye and maybe even reverse it, then she thought that it would be more than worth the effort and trouble.

That's when he mentioned Daemian. He heard her. She was still a few hundred meters from the village and she gave a small laugh at his patronising voice."Daemian knows better than to tell me what to do. He liked to keep his limbs, not lose them. And besides, he's shown me to some before. But that was before he vanished- but where he vanished to, I honestly couldn't tell you." Vyllaea said with a small shrug, humming lightly. The outskirts of the village wasn't too much to look at, but the dozens, perhaps almost a few hundred homes which were lite up by torches lighting up the area. Although while she still approached, she cast he ran gaze around them, inspecting each house. Each area, each street and each square.

One area gave a slight flicker, the magic cast over it weakening slightly as a cart of something similar must have travelled through. She gave a small, heartless smile. "And that's where the markets are..." She mused, rather cheerily, before continuing down towards it. At least the streets were paved in that village. Too bad the roads leading to it weren't, but oh well.

It had what she wanted and that's all she cared about.

"One... last question. Are these markets hostile?"

As he followed her, Razakath kept his eyes ahead rather than glancing about like she. He saw this view every day, and it really wasn't much to look at. He even believed that looking at the beautiful mountains would never get old for him, but over time they began to look more and more boring. The only time he thought it looked special was in the spring, but even that made him bored. When the two passed the street that beheld the house that sheltered Habbie and Hades, Razakath stopped to look. He couldn't see the house from here, but he knew where it was and the precious treasure within. His heart began to ache. It has only been about an hour, yet he was already missing his babies dearly.

He was lost in thought, letting the lady ahead of him walk further before he turned his head at the sound of her question. Razakath broke into a gallop and was soon back to her side. He followed her gaze and looked upon the alley which held the black markets.

"Depends on who you encounter and if you piss anyone off. They will not attack you on sight, but I'm afraid they won't be too nice and jolly." Razakath never tangled with the black markets himself-- he never had a reason to --but he did know a good bit about them. He paused, stepping back. "I suppose this is where we must part, then." The man's eyes never left the woman. It was not his full attention to leave her. Razakath was not stupid. He knew this person was dangerous, and not only that-- she was also trouble. The type of trouble he didn't want in this village.

The type of trouble he didn't want around his children, or anyone else's for that matter.

"I suppose so. Thank you for your help, I greatly appreciate it."

Vyllaea's words were rather simple and her tone incredibly tell-tale. She didn't plan on turning herself to look at the man, instead, preferring to look ahead at the goals which were laid out before her. The markets. Something there would be able to aid her with her eye. A herb, or ointment, just something that would slow down its degradation or even give her portions of her sight back. That was the only thing that she particularly cared about at this point in time, her focus very narrow.

"I'll see you around some time." That was what people usually would say to one another, or so she assumed. But in reality, Vyllaea absolutely doubted if they would ever meet again. After all, what did the man behind her even have that she wanted? With that thought in the forefront of her mind, the older woman began to make her way forward once more. Her fingers lightly tapped against her leg as she walked, ignoring the glances of the men around her. Typical thugs, after good looks and charms, but not willing to recognise that they were standing before the most dangerous lady around.


Quickly she wove her way through the crowd, her form vanishing between the buildings as she walked. A determination sparked in Vyllaea's eyes, although weak in one and strong as a flame in the other, the deterioration actually partially concerning. She would never admit it though. Slipping through the two buildings and down the alley, she simply tapped the weakened barrier. Instantly it faded at her fingertip, granting her permission to step through. What would stand against her? Potentially they might, although from memory, their apprentice...

Humming, Vyllaea wandered through the stalls, her eyes drinking in the sight of their merchandise.

And nothing was looking good.

The cry of a merchant snapped her out of her thoughts and she gave them a raised eyebrow. "Why do you think I'm interested in a good time? I simply need a few herbs; although I have to admit... None of these stalls looks like it sells anything like that. Was it really a bluff to drag people in?" Vyllaea asked, eyes narrowing in annoyance. Something burned against her skin, eyes watching her. Several. More than what she wanted. A snarl pulled onto her face, her hand slowly stretching out to the side.

"You think there's really gonna be something that could help your eye? Don't be silly, kid! We know who you a-"

"Good, then you'd be expecting this!" Vyllaea snapped, a sword of onyx and ripping purple energy appearing in her hand. With a cry and a single swing, the approaching men, all armed to the teeth, fell before her. Muscles withered, wounds torn open. A wave of energy cracked through the entire town, the ground itself groaning and twisting from the power displaced by the single swing.

Instantly, Vyllaea sheathed the sword by simply releasing it. "So... About these herbs..." She started, angrily approaching an unfortunately close merchant, his skin pale, almost white, from fright of her. Fear of her. Terror.