A Chance Encounter [The Willow Woods]

[Robin Stark]

717, 5th of Ymiden

The wind promised him the sun.

“And?” Robin asked, smiling. He sat cliffside, legs dangling precariously over daggered rocks and murky water. Victor had taken him here, once, before he’d died. The old witch had pushed him off the cliff; defiance training, he’d said, when Robin, drenched and shivering, managed to survive.

He’d spent his morning there, him and the wind. They chatted; the wind blew and blustered, singing about the hot cycle. Robin listened, wishing for the sun. They’d spent days under a heavy, grey cloudcover. He wanted the blistering heat, the sticky humidity that clung hungrily to his skin. He wanted the street vendors to already be selling their sweet, frozen juices.

He told the wind, and it listened, in it’s way. It rolled over him, tousling his hair, his loose clothes. The sun, it called, the sun. It predicted clear, bright, beautiful skies. Robin laughed as it twirled about, spinning around, happy.

The defier laid against the ground, warm and soft. The earth, too, seemed content in his presence. It stretched as he did, shifting to his form comfortably. It was a strange thing, he thought, to know he lived without them once. How lonely he must have been.

[Danielle Tobelle]

PH

[Felicia Stark]

Felicia glanced over at Robin from where she sat beneath a nearby tree, skirts tucked carefully beneath her folded legs in a modest position. Her clothing was simple, slightly worn but clean none the less. She liked to watch him sometimes, examining his expressions and trying to understand what it was he was feeling. Ever since they were children the man had this unusual knack for relaxing wherever he might be. He made it look so simple, just letting go and letting the gentle breeze carry him far away as he chatted quietly to the sky. She knew what he was of course, and that his talk was not just mad ramblings. The elements themselves responded to him in odd ways. Felicia thought she might have been a bit envious, but it was so faint she could not truly tell.

The woman's eyes returned to what was in her hands. A bundle of straw lay on her lap, tied at two ends with twine. Felicia was now preparing another such bundle, carefully bunching the golden fibers together at one end and tying one end with slow and unpracticed fingers. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she worked, fingers fumbling with the knot as she tied a last loop and pulled it closed around the bundle to fasten the straws together.

A soft fluttering breeze made the straw in her lap rustle and threaten to escape her grasp, and with a sharp intake of breath Felicia gathered up her work and pressed it close to her chest as she looked back toward Robin.

"Would you ask your breeze to be more careful? It almost sent Mir over the cliff."

[Robin Stark]

The wind continued to sing after his sister complained. It zipped and swooped, diving at the earth, at him. It breezed past him, tangling in between his hair, his fingers, filling in whatever space it could; as it tumbled about, he reached out to the sky, arms bare. The wind responded, twirling around his arms. Robin smiled, satisfied. He remembered when it would have taken him breaks, a whole trial even, to encourage the wind to make even the slightest change.

"Who's Mir?" Robin asked, the wind between his two outstretched arms. He guessed it was the thing in her arms, all yellow and brown and straw and twine. He guessed she'd magic it alive, a bundle of thin fibers crawling quickly behind her. Victor's had always been flesh and bone, things put together awkwardly. Felicia's had always seemed more purposed.

"Come back soon," He whispered into the breeze, releasing it. It circled him, once, twice, and once again before tumbling over the cliffside. "When will Mir be finished?" He asked, still staring out towards the horizon, the air still now.

[Felicia Stark]

As the breeze lightened Felicia slowly let down her bundles, eyes returning to her work as she did, "A new doll I am making."

Her fingers worked slowly once more on the straw, now beginning to weave the loose end of the new bundle through the finished and tied bundle from before, It was slow work, and it was all the more difficult given how fragile the straw was. It bent and broke easily if she were not careful. When she was young Felicia would make lots of dolls like this, though she had never shown them to anyone else. They were just little makeshift things, crafted from bits of thread, sticks and leaves that she happened to come across. There was no real reason for it though. She didn't do it because she particularly enjoyed it. Instead, it just kept her hands busy and staved off some of the boredom she felt so often.

With the two bundles weaved together they now formed a makeshift cross. Felicia began parting the straw on the untied end into two relatively even bunches. With the remaining string she began tying these off, forming makeshift legs on her creation.

"She is almost done."

Felicia glanced up from her work to stare at Robin's back. Her cool blue eyes roamed over his shoulders, his lightly tousled hair and seemingly content face. They were siblings, adopted yes but raised in such a way that neither could really see the other as anything other than a brother or a sister. There was something that was supposed to come from a bond such as that. A deepness or closeness that could not be explained with words but both knew to be true despite this. What Felicia felt, however, was ambiguous. She didn't hate him. Of course she couldn't hate him, not after the time they had spent together. They had seen much, been through much. He was her brother after all, but still...She knew there was supposed to be something there, inside of her. A warmth or a pull toward the man which was noticeably absent. Felicia wasn't sure if Robin noticed, and even if he did she doubted that he would let on.

Push him off.

The thought bubbled up in her mind unbidden as she looked at Robin where he perched still on the cliff. She was stuck how easy it would be. A single shove, and over he would go. She doubted it would kill him. The breeze would slow his fall, or the earth would soften to catch him. This and other thoughts crossed her mind for the few bits that she gazed before she crushed them down and tied off the last knot on her creation.

"All done." She said, raising the slightly lopsided straw doll before her face to show him, "What do you think?"

[Robin Stark]

Felicia rarely smiled. She seemed more machine than human these days, sewing and sewing and sewing. Her fingers were always restless, and, more often than they weren't, filled with straw or snapped twigs or yarn. Her hands were clever, crafty things; it was interesting, he thought, that her hands managed to convey more emotion, more excitement, than he'd ever seen from his sister.

"She's nice," he said, turning back to look at the lopsided straw doll. She held it up, hiding her face behind a creation of straw and twine.

He regretted sending the wind away. The earth was a comforting friend, but it was hardly talkative. Once, he guessed, Felicia and him spoke more often, freely. She had been there before his initiation, after, though, he'd changed. People didn't interest him in the way they'd once had, not really. He preferred the four to them, their friendship earned and deserved. People, he thought, were flighty and ever changing. Mercurial creatures, and untrustworthy.

"Will you make her live?" He asked, curious. Victor had always been accompanied by one or two of his dead mutations. Felicia walked with none.

[Felicia Stark]

Felica thought on the question for a few bits while she turned the doll to face her. She looked over the uneven, raggled creation and tried to imagine it as if it were a living, breathing thing. It would be ugly, she decided, if it were made of anything but straw. It's arms too long, its head squashed and slightly tilted to one side. Did things like this even want life at all? It was a question that Felicia bondered often. Maybe the inanimate prefered their existance that way, still in the quiet of their non lives.

Setting the doll on the ground Felicia focused her gaze on it once more. Within her she let her power well, ether filling her palm as she extended it forward to lightly carees the doll with one finger. The straw seemed to such it in hungrily, devouring the ether as Felicia freely gave it. What came next was something akin to a spiritual sigh, and suddenly a spark shot through Felicia's mind as the link between master and Thrall was connected. She was at once herself, and now she was within this doll as well. It was an extension of her, another hand, another limb. She silntly commanded the thing to stand, and it twitched where it lay on the ground. First one lim, and the the other began to move. They were stiff motions. With no joints to aid in the act the dollow was akward as it struggled to stand. Felicia could feel its fragility. Any little breeze set it to tilting, stumbling to fight for balance with its body that was never made to move at all.

Spinning her finger Felicia commanded the thrall to walk toward her brother, and it did so. She felt its each and every movement as it went, like it was her hand that moved its legs one by one forward and forward. How would it be to control any thralls at once? It would require her to focus on so many things at once, and at her level of ability Felicia doubted she would be able to handle ore than a handful of the things at once. She watched as the doll walked around Robin, standing at the edge of the cliff for a moment as if it were looking out at the distance.

Fall.

The thrall tipped over the ledge, tumbling end over end until it passed out of her range and Felicia lost her connection to it.

"It wasn't actually alive." She said, as if to defend her own actions. Her eyes glanced up at Robin briefly before locking on some point in the distance. Felicia drew her knees up to her chest, all of a sudden unsure of what to say.

[Robin Stark]

Robin watched as she enchanted the straw doll. Mir twitched, the spell slow to work. Her limbs, delicate and made of straw, lifted, hesitating. He wondered if Felicia's magic inspired sentience. Was Mir struck by her sudden existence? Or was she swallowed completely by Felicia's sense of self?

The doll pulled itself up, a miracle; it was a fragile thing, desperately tied together with old twine. It waddled, stepping frigidly, each movement a determined show of will. It fumbled, stumbling between the particularly tall blades of grass. Robin watched as as Mir moved closer to him. Robin watched as Mir edged closer to the cliffside. Robin watched as Mir fell.

She was tumbled down the cliffside, surprisingly quick for a construct of straw and twine. Mir unraveled before she touched the water, strings caught by jagged rocks.

"No, she wasn't," Robin admitted, still looking over into the ocean. Bits of straw floated between the rocks, cradled by the flotsam and jetsam. He wondered if Felicia did this to the rest of her thralls. It would explain why she was always alone.

"Will you make the next one out of something sturdier?" He asked, a few bits passing between them in silence. Felicia seemed vulnerable, confused, even. Robin couldn't help with that, as much as he once may have wanted to. Perhaps had she been an elemental spirit, or a warm breeze, or a earth tremor, he might have pay attention or worried -- but she had survived so far, without his help.

[Felicia Stark]

Felicia pondered the question for several bits, turning it over in her mind like it was some odd treat to dissect and better understand. To her, thralls were just... a passing thought. She did not really give much thought to them at all, nor what they were made of. Victor taught her that a thrall was a useful servant, thoughtless and obedient completely to her while it was under her direct control. It wasn't really separate from her at all, no more than a shoe was separate from her body when her foot was in it. When she took her foot out the shoe stopped moving, but despite this fact Felicia did not give much though as to what material her next shoe would be made of.

After the silence grew to the point that even Felicia took note of it the girl finally looked up at Robin, "I don't know. What do you think I should make one out of next?"

Materials for thralls were not easy to come by, not really. Dead bodies were harder to find than one would expect, and thus far she had not been inclined to take the time to scour clean a set of bones to use for a Marrow as Victor had shown her. In the past she had killed a few rats and enthralled them, and once even a stray cat that had wandered close to the house. A part of her wondered what it would be like to make a Husk from a human corpse though.

Make him a thrall.

The thought made her blink, but she didn't look away from his back. She had thought about it before of course. It would be simple, just like with Victor. Then she could clean his bones and keep him with her forever. Then he wouldn't leave her. Felicia wouldn't do it though. Somehow, she didn't think it would do anything for the emptiness in her heart.

Felicia stood and brushed off her skirts, letting the remaining stray fall lazily to the ground as she walked to stand just behind her brother to stare over the ocean herself. She pushed a stray hair from her eyes and looked down at Robin, "Do you talk to the ocean too?"

[Robin Stark]

"Stone," he answered. It was obvious to the defiant. "If I were to build anything, ever, I'd use earth. It's dependable and strong. Clay or mud, maybe could work, too," Robin wasn't entirely sure what Felicia need a thrall to be able to do, or rather, what her magic suited best. Mir could walk, but was flimsy, a delicately straw spun doll. She had no mouth, no ears, no eyes. Did her magic need those things to work? Did Felicia want her creations to hear, to speak?

"It takes a while to break stone. I spent trials, once, trying to convince a boulder to split," he smirked, his eyes closed, remembering. Victor had dragged him out to a meadow besides their house, sitting him besides the gigantic piece of earth, promising he wouldn't be allowed back home until the rock had been split and quartered. Robin had spent four days, only breaking to drink and bathe in a nearby stream, until he convinced the stone to shatter. "Do you remember that? How he would leave us alone for days until we'd done some silly thing for him?" Robin asked, nostalgic. Robin didn't hate Victor; he was more grateful, for his gift of defiance, but the old witch was dead. There wasn't really anything to be said about him anymore.

Sometime he wanted to ask Felicia how she'd killed him. He knew it had been her, or at least, she was the most likely culprit. Usually he was able to ignore the impulse.

"Sometimes," Robin nodded, watching as the waves crashed into the rocks below. "It usually just says where it's going. If we were closer, I could hear the currents and we could pick one to take anywhere." He paused, considering the idea. He hadn't really ever thought to leave Treth, before Victor died. Now, he hadn't really though to leave Ne'haer. He supposed that might change eventually. Perhaps the sea could carry him somewhere new.

"From up here, it's all one. I'm too far away to hear individual currents."