((GDI I GOT LOGGED OUT JUST AS I HIT SEND AND LOST MY REPLY))
Lys tensed at his question, studying the Farstrider's expression for any hint as to the intentions behind his words. "...I know enough," she finally, vaguely answered. She tried hard to keep her voice and hands steady, but with panic and paranoia welling up inside her, it proved to be a challenge.
What did he know about illusion magic?
A thousand troubled thoughts crowded her mind, but this one question fueled the worry in all of them. Did he know magic too? Had he bewitched her sometime during their travels, and she hadn't been able to notice? Was she in danger? Would he leave her helpless again? Her mind raced at a dizzying pace that her sleepless brain could not keep up with.
But if she had no answer to these questions herself, she could simply get one straight from the man himself.
"Why do you ask?" she demanded, turning more hostile and aggressive than she had been just moments ago. Her hands ignited with arcane flame, dancing in her palms and ready to be thrown right at him if she didn't like his answer. He made the mistake of poking at a feral animal. Any Farstrider would know how dangerous a beast became when it was backed into a corner... and remembered how hard it could bite.
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Tristyn was a very different beast himself. He craved this 'passion'. The fire in her hands wasn't the least bit as bright as the fire in her soul and as he bit his lower lip to stay-his-constant smirk from stretching ear to ear. "Cool ya' flames, blondie- ya wanna lhear me out or loose ya escort here and now?" He'd patiently wait for her response. The suspense made to last as he confidently wiggled his eyebrows.
((No worries - don't forget us in the other ashes thread too! ))
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((I was waiting for someone else to answer in the Ashes thread actually xD unless I missed someone's response? Been a little scattered today, sorry))
Trist's response elicited a pensive pause from the firebrand, lips still pulled into a frown as the light of her flames danced upon her face. She didn't trust him. But he seemed to calm and collected to pose an immediate threat. Not only that, but not having an escort after coming this far into unfamiliar territory was undeniably a Bad Idea. If they ended up parting ways, she at least wanted to be the one to make that decision. Not him. So, after narrowing her eyes into a wary squint, she decided, just this once, to indulge him.
"...Start talking," she growled, taking a more passive stance. The fire didn't dissapate, but from how she stood, arms at her side, magic pointed away from him rather than ready to cast, she at least showed she wasn't about to burn his face off at the first offense. Going by his track record, that wouldn't put him very far into the conversation. Still, she was defensive, pacing down the line while her eyes never left him.
He hadn't really done anything to warrant this kind of aggressive behavior - well, not this time, at least - but the troubles of a tired mind saw danger in even the slightest misunderstanding. She hurt herself, going so long without sleep. But it was far more likely that her state would end up hurting him first.
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Tristyn c*cked his head to the side as he raised his hands in a passive shrug, tilting his head 'humbly' towards her like a non-shelant bow for her 'compliance'; if it could be called that. "As ya wish..." He allowed his arms to fall back to his side and stared deep into her eyes for a split second, studying her face to guess at what was going on in that head of hers.
Slowly, he held out a flat palm towards her as if to signal, 'stop' or 'hold on'. He then took a small vial out of his left pocket and held it up with his hand, between his pointer finger and his thumb. "This one ain't for you, blondie...." He would shake the contents of the small vial, a blue liquid shimmered inside.
"The reason I ask about illusion magickz be due to our hostile environment..." He slowly opened the vial, making sure Lys could see what he was doing and held it above his head; more accurately; his eye. He pulled his lid back and allowed a single drop to fall into place. Soon after his face strained and he winced, blinking profusely and hissing with each painful sounding inhale of breath. After a moment his tearing eye fluttered open and the pupil was visibly blue.
"I ain't got enough for both o' us and were gonna have to cross some boarders that aint exactly 'friendly' to beautiful elves with green eyes." Always with his flirty-and arrogant nature, he looked at her when his comment. "Way I see it ya have two options..." That smug smirk was back. "Ya could kill me here..." The words left his mouth with a challenging raised eyebrow. "Take this vial and use it to get across the boarders..." He held it out, shaking it firmly in his grasp. "Wouldn't have ta deal with me no more- but ya got a ways ta go..."
His voice took on a subtle but darker tone. "And ya don't know how long the contents of this will last ya..." he wast smiling anymore; "ya have no idea where ya going.... or even where you are."
He corked the vial and shook it again. Just enough remained for maybe one more, maybe two eyes...
"This liquid also has some interesting side-effects...." He warned, his poker-face was dead on, she couldn't be sure if he was telling the truth or not. In her tired state, it may have been anyone's guess.
"Or ya can help me find another rope and accompany me as a prisoner until were through the boarder." He stood there, no expression on his face. "As I said before blondie, I gotta get ya there alive ta get my gold."
The vial still held before him as he shook the contents of the liquid. "Unless ya have the rare ability ta turn parts a ya different colors..." He smirked; "Otherwise known as 'illusion magic'."
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She listened silently, almost obedient with her attentiveness, and once Trist was done talking, the fire went out. The only sign she gave that he offered her a satisfying answer. But she still stood where she was, eyes flickering between the vial he presented to her, and his now brilliant blue eyes. Really, there was only one option before her. Both of them knew it. But just because all other roads were closed to her, didn't mean she couldn't complain about the path she was offered.
"...Side-effects." She said the word with a wrinkled nose, not liking the sound of that warning. "How unpleasant. I wouldn't want your silly little eye potion anyways. Green is a much nicer color for me. Complements my face."
That left the other two alternatives: Magic, or submission. With a repulsed shudder, Lys chose to contemplate the former first. She used magic to dye her hair as she escaped Silvermoon... but it didn't dispell, even days later. When she got to the Undercity, she had to dye it back to her natural blonde glow. Unfortunately, no barbershop could recolor someone's eyes. Moreover...
Lys looked to her hands with a concealed frown. The gloves that masked them were unmarked, reinforced by mageweave to remain untouched by magic. But she could feel, underneath the stitches and cloth, the burns her pyromancy left behind. Light burns, easily healed, but what they meant for her spellcasting was what really caused her concern. She hadn't made such a novice mistake in years. Only mages who had no control over their flames ever saw themselves burned by it.
Volatile emotions made for volatile magic. The insomnia, she reminded herself, probably didn't help in that regard. But... Well, there wasn't much to be done about that. Not right now. Not with him. With that thought, her gaze returned to him, narrowing once more as she studied his smug little face. He couldn't find out how her control waned... She didn't know what he would do if he knew, but she knew he wouldn't do anything good. The best case saw him being ceaselessly irritating. And in the worst case...
"...I prefer not to use magic." A half-truth, if not a lie by omission. But her tone was even and her words assured enough to prevent her from being found out. Or so she hoped. "It clings to your body. It doesn't layer over it. Dispelling my own eyes would be annoying."
With that, her choice was made. Or so it seemed. That still left her with an unpleasant alternative. Her eyes fixed upon him, staying somewhere between a subtle squint and a glare. Prisoner. The thought utterly sickened her. Death would come sooner.
Actually. Death might be just what the doctor ordered.
"How many dwarves have we put in the ground over our journey?" Lys suggested with a smirk. "You think just because humans are taller, they're any harder to kill? If someone tries to stand in our way, you can put an arrow in their skull, and I'll light take care of the cremation. Much easier than being sneaky, wouldn't you say?"
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"Much as I hate to admit it, violence aint always the answer..." He begrudgingly admitted. A look of 'did I really just say that?' swept across his face but the thought was quickly dismissed as he winced, another tear was squeezed out of his left eye and a noticeable expression of pain took over for a moment followed by his hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighed after a few seconds, fighting off what appeared to be a headache.
"Help me find more rope- " He commanded and started to rummage through the items in boxes. It hadn't occurred to him how wrong that could have been taken or the little fact that he was asking his reluctant prisoner to essentially find rope and be bound out of her own free will. He assumed her lack of flames but alternative suggestion was just for show- an arrogant bastard; indeed.
"Most of them boarders are heavily guarded. I ain't worried about a few vertically challenged in an isolated bunker with short patrols as much as I am a ton of heavily armed, pissed off humans." Some objects could be heard moving around as he dug into a crate. His back finally turned from her without his weary eye. "They're racist pr*cks, the lot of 'em." He pulled out what looked to be a pair of very small gnomish boots. "If ya think im bad... well..." He continued to rummage. "If we're caught ill be killed but I can only imagine what they'll do to you..." His tone wasn't threatening but more of a warning, a very real warning... and he didn't turn to see how she'd take it.
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Oh, she could kill him. Right then and there, she was reminded of how she could just KILL him. If he didn't have his back turned, he'd see how she stomped her foot and stifled a frustrated snarl (which actually came out a lot more like a suffocated squawk). Lys wasn't coping well with this situation at all. But sleep or no sleep, her desperation could not be ignored. He was right about this mess. And she hated him all the more for it.
"Find your OWN rope!" Lys spat, after struggling to reclaim her vocabulary. It sounded like she should have added a curse word somewhere in there. She'd probably make up for its absence in due time. And with that, she marched to the edge of "camp" - if that's what you might call it - and sat there, with crossed arms and crossed legs and quite the cross temperament to boot. He'd pay for putting her through this. He'd pay through the nose, she'd make sure of that.
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Tristyn heard the words just as he turned around to see Lys storm off.
He sighed, eyes wandering to the side to think on something. Luckily for him, his eyes wandered JUST far enough to spot a rope on a table in the short distance. He slowly paced to fetch it, picking it up, giving the loop a few good tugs to test it and then smirking to himself.
Now to get her into it...
He pinched the bridge of his nose again... unsure if the dimming pain was still part of the side effects from the vial or the embarrassing thought of how perverted this could become- was becoming... rather quickly.
How old was this elf....?
His fingers ran through his long white strands of hair as he heaved a heavy and stressed sigh.
This looked wrong...
He smirked, facing away from Lys at the far end of the camp.
This WAS wrong... so wrong...
Which meant it was perfect.
His lips twisted into a grin and he silently chuckled to himself.
Unknown to Lys, as horrible as this looked- was going to look, this was not what it seemed but he'd have a hell of a time convincing her otherwise and that thought alone was hilarious to him from 3rd person. ((And me, HAHAHA))
He took a deep breath to regain his composure but then let out a hearty chuckle. This was too much...
His hand came to his face to cover the huge smile, for even though he was facing away from Lys, if she caught wind of how maddening all this was to take in, she might not let him tie her up... then they'de never reach booty bay.
There was no way around this, this looked really perverted. His reddening face from trying his hardest to hold back laughter wasn't helping.
"F*ck it..." He announced as he threw his free hand up in the air and spun around, an incriminating smile in full view- if she could see that far away from the other side of the 'camp' ((dwarven bunker- id imagine its not to far)).
He paced towards Lys as he scrunched up his smile, looking all to guilty in this terrible and likely terrifying moment.
"There ain't no way ta' glaze over this awkward necessity, blondie." He spoke this truth plain and simple, a guilty smile as he tried to level with her. "I aint messing with ya- I wont touch ya without ya' ok. I just need your hands." He lowered his head, his gaze... even attempted to act humble and held out a strand of the rope as if gifting it to her, but from the look of it she'd have to offer her wrists from that angle.
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Lys turned in time to see the disgusting perversion in his expression, and she was sickened by it. Deep breaths and a forced facade of calm were all that stopped her from lighting his pants on fire. He was playing her. And, horrible a reality as it was, she had no choice but to play along.
Then he offered her... what might be mistaken as a humble gesture, if she didn't already know this bastard well enough. "...I hate you," she grumbled, showing her wrists. But before he could take them, she thought to put a little fear into him. Lighting a small spark at the end of her finger, she shoved her hand towards his face until it was less than an inch away from his eyes. He could probably feel the heat of the flickering flame against his scarred skin. "Careful where your hands wander, ranger," she hissed. "Or else you might have to explain to girls why there's an image of a dick burned on your brow." After letting the fire go out, she pressed her finger into his forehead, as if showing where she planned to place the brand. "I'll make it small," she promised with a snarky little smile. "Don't want anyone getting the wrong idea."
With her threats laid out, she sat back again, offering her hands to be bound. For now.
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Tristyn's eyes had never opened so wide, and now that they were blue, they likely even looked bigger and more shocked.
A gasp followed but he held the rope, frozen in stiff before a glare took over with her clever threat.
Gritting his teeth, he begrudgingly took her hands, and began to remove the gloves before he would bind them... ((may i?))
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Lys at first didn't notice what he was doing - or at the very least, she couldn't recall the significance it would have for her, dazed and dampened as her thoughts had become. But as the first glove came off and exposed the burns on her hand, she remembered all too suddenly, and pulled away before he could get a good look. Surely such a quick glance couldn't have revealed too much. The man was a fool! How perceptive could he be?
Next, she realized just how conspicuous the reaction was, and froze in place. "...Leave them on," she told him tersely, trying to save face in whatever way she could manage. "I need them. For... mage things." So convincing. If Azeroth had acting awards, that would definitely win her some kind of trophy.
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((heh))
Tristyn was puzzled and squinted at her. That was indeed conspicuous but he didnt get a good look. "What's a'matter? Ya got some sorta skin condition?" He raised an eyebrow. "If I leave ya gloves on and we get in a bad spot, how ya gonna free ya-self? Extra rope on material dont seem like it 'ed mix with flames." He bartered with logic.
((You- are online? Care to continue this ingame or shall we continue here?))
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((Not online right now DX still kinda sick so I don't wanna force myself to stay on the computer, yknow? I'm actually typing all of this from my phone xD))
"They're flame resistant!" she snapped, snatching back the glove he'd taken and quickly stuffing it back on. The aggression in her voice was a poor mask to the frantic fear of her self-inflicted vulnerability being brought to light. "Besides, a mage can't burn themselves with their own fire unless they want to. So keep your concern to yourself!" The defensiveness was quite uncharacteristic of Lys, but she stubbornly maintained her position all the same. If they were going to do this, it was going to be done her way.
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"That so...?" He raised an eyebrow which showed he was onto something- or perhaps it was just her imagination. "Alright...." He seemed to shrug and hold out the rope again, waiting for her to 're-glove' herself and offer her wrists again.
((feel better and dont stay up on my account))
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((I sleep when Lys sleeps >:D))
As he finally bound her hands together, Lys kept still and silent, not even looking up at him while he tied the knot. She just stared at her hands, shaken from the carelessness that almost cost her one of her secrets. By all rights, not a great or terrible secret - but with how little she trusted the ranger, she wanted to keep as many as she could hold.
The irony of her lack of trust was not lost on her. Grimly, she thought to herself, 'Of course, I'm only trusting him with my life.'
"Not too tight," she spoke quietly - a humble request, for a little mercy in mind. "I could break free if I wanted... But I want it to be easy." She'd feel safer, if it was easier. She just wanted to feel safe...
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