Stronghold of education and learning, this fortress is in one of the coldest areas of Idalos and home to many knowledge seekers in a variety of disciplines. However, unknown to most, below the city are those who suffer for the sake of science. While all are welcome, not everyone will be treated as they expect.
23rdTrial of Ymiden Season
of Hot Cycle of 720 in the Arc of Idalos!
Omesintihlih skipped along the academy halls. She'd only been in Viden for a very short time yet she found that the people of Viden served as an even better audience than the horrendously boring people down in her home of Quacia. The Vahanic woman held onto her skirts, to flip the lacy hems while she swiftly made her way around the sharp corners in twirled displays of the various ribbons she had strung up along her dress that twisted around in colorful satin.
The brunette hair of her usual mask, Carma, was kept long and gently curled. The strands spun around as well. She smiled at a couple students watching, a grin of friendliness that made them quickly scurry out of range from the woman. Not everyone realized that they should appreciate the arts. But that was alright. Carma was more than familiar with that.
She skipped past the office she'd been searching for, then quickly retraced with a few pirouettes before she stopped in front of the closed door of the alchemist and professor, Doctor Thetys' office.
There it is!Clean yourself up, already. These ribbons are in disarray.Take a breath or eighteen.There was once a man who breathed three times at once, can you ever breathe three times at the same time when you only have two lungs. I think so, you should try.Focus. We need only knock and find out if he's home.Why knock when you can KICK?
Carma stared at the door for a long moment, vivid green eyes glossy, then she shook her head and smiled. The woman fluffed up her skirts some, smoothed out the various ribbons tied on, and then ran her hands over her hair. Her leg darted out and she slammed the sole of her satin ballerina flats against the door. She kicked again, vicious in the motion, and then settled.
The Quacian leaned forward, put her ear to the door. Her smile remained on the illusion of her mask of humanity. She rapped her fingers very gently against the door in a knock. Was the good doctor in or was he off somewhere else? She tried the handle of the office door, then lowered to her knees to see if she might jimmy it open.
A trial after his most recent Menochoros lesson and a somewhat surprising meeting with an old acquaintance from his time in Ne’haer, a woman by the name of Namira who had brought him a most interesting ring, the Mortalborn was back in the office and looking at the stack of documents that one of his assistants had put on his desk that morning with a mixture of vague frustration and something that was almost akin to acceptance.
Dealing with previously unimaginable amounts of paperwork was, more or less, an inevitable side-effect of conducting ground-breaking research; besides all the paperwork did at least keep him from wondering about certain other aspects of his life that might have occupied most of his thoughts otherwise.
Twisting his newest ring that was silver with hints of black a little bit, the Mortalborn who was garbed in a fine dark red shirt and a pair of black pants, among other things, wondered what he should take care of first, the progress report, the various forms pertaining to the volunteers that he had decided on working with, or the message that he had received from one of his fellow professors at the Institute of Sciences. He ultimately decided on the latter and he was just about to pen a reply when he heard someone … bang against the door?
His eyebrows rose for a moment as he wondered if whoever wanted to visit him considered him to be hard of hearing or was just being somewhat rude, before he pushed his papers away a bit, sat up straighter and called out to enter, just as a more gentle knock could be heard.
“Yes? How may I help you?” he wanted to know in a calm and polite tone of voice that was tinged with maybe a hint of amusement, in Common, once his surprise visitor revealed herself and gestured for her to come closer to him while he let his gaze drift over her.
The young woman was human, or at least she appeared to be such, and her manner of dress was somewhat on the eccentric side which made him more curious about who she was and what exactly she wanted from him than he might have been otherwise.
“Are you a student?” he continued and raised a dark eyebrow fractionally. He could not remember seeing her in one of his classes (he would without a doubt have remembered someone with that kind of style).
Maybe she had just started her studies though – or maybe she came from a different department and wanted his advice on matters of alchemy, chemistry or medicine?
23rdTrial of Ymiden Season
of Hot Cycle of 720 in the Arc of Idalos!
From beyond the door, in a place unknown, a voice sounded. It sounded similar to the other voices, only Omesintihlih couldn't make sense of what it was saying. He? What he was saying. She jimmied at the lock then found that it was indeed open. She smiled, as the door creaked open, and she saw a man inside. The doctor? Professor Thetys?
The human walked through and eyed the dark attire. She picked up her skirts slightly, then swept her leg far to the side in dancerly posture before swinging it back into a low curtsy. She sunk into the formal performance of greeting, head bowed and her long curls shadowed her face as she did so. While she didn't understand the language, she could tell there was a questioning tone to whatever was said.
He gestured for her to come closer. In a hop and a skip, she pranced closer until she stood near the desk. Omesintihlih swayed her skirts side to side, coyly, while she continued to survey the stranger. Lips painted a scarlet red (and slightly smudged along one corner of her mouth), her eyelashes held heavy with thick paint that made the lashes fuller seeming than they actually were. She fluttered them, though a few lashes stuck together and she had to wink a few times to get it unstuck.
“ᏗᏒᏋ ᎩᎧᏬ Ꮧ ᏕᏖᏬᎴᏋᏁᏖ?" asked the man, with a raise of his eyebrow.
Oh my, oh my, I recognize his look.I told you that you should have cleaned up.Oh, he looks positively ripe.Do you see that ring he wears? Or that his outfit matches like blood and death? You know that followers of the Immortal of Death, Vri, wears things like that, maybe he is a blessed of Vri.That is none of our business.Vri is a wimp!
Omesintihlih smiled, the slightest smudge of red lipstick on the front of her teeth. She curtsied again, slightly more shallow than the first one, then she said in a sing-songy voice, “Obrigado por me ver, senhor. Senhor. Médico. Doutor Thetys? Meu nome é Carmen Moura."
She slid up onto the desk, to sit on it, and delicately moved some papers so she could do so. Omesintihlih Carmen leaned over, and twisted some of her hair around her fingers while she eyed the man as if he were a sweet cake and she felt so hungry. She continued in the melodic Vahanic, the pitch of her voice extremely high, “Você pode me chamar de Carma. Ou ... você pode me chamar do que quiser, bonito."
The woman leaped away from the desk, landed on the balls of her feet, then spun around a few times so that the skirts raised and the ribbons trailed after the twirled motion. She laughed, then jumped to the side and posed in a swift theatrical bow.
“Eu também posso cantar, se você quiser ouvir. Não é? Claro que você faz." Carma lifted her posture, set a hand over the space where her heart resided, then she sang out in a vowel that echoed against the walls while she ascended through the scales of notes. The operatic crescendo screeched loud, then she smiled brilliantly. Another spin, away from the man, then she lifted her leg and placed her foot against one of the nearby bookshelves so that her skirt slid up and revealed the satin laces that wrapped around her leg... and the ripped tights that showed bare skin in parts where the nylon-like material had run ragged.
She continued to lift her skirt in seductive frolic, like any other performance, then she got to her inner thigh where she pointed at a thin wound of a cut. It looked infected from how swollen it was around the line.
“Ouvi dizer que você precisa de sangue. Por favor, leve o meu, doutor. Para nel?" she kept her skirts up, her leg exposed, and the angry violent cut on her inner thigh for Doran to fully see.
Translation
1 Thank you for seeing me, sir. Sir. Doctor. Doctor Thetys? My name is Carmen Moura.
2 You can call me Karma. Or ... you can call me whatever you want, beautiful.
3 I can sing too, if you want to hear. It is not? Of course you do.
4 I heard that you need blood. Please take mine, doctor. For him?
♢ ♢ ♢
Last edited by Omesintihlih on Fri Aug 14, 2020 9:50 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 743
When the eccentric human woman entered his office, picked up her skirts and curtsied, in a very formal and somewhat theatrical fashion, the Mortalborn’s eyebrows rose a hint more, and he cocked his head a little to the side before he smiled very slightly. Whoever she was, she did at least not seem to be boring which was something that he appreciated as it constituted a welcome change from all the papers on his desk that he had still not dealt with and that he would be forced to deal with before the trial was over.
When she curtsied again, he inclined his head in reply before he waited for her to start to explain herself, folding his hands that sported crimson markings, one of his awakenings, atop the desk as he did so – only to furrow his brow fractionally a moment later. What kind of language did she … he furrowed his brow again, as something about the way that she spoke seemed familiar to him, even though he couldn’t understand the words.
It was …
“Vahanic?” he asked politely. He had heard Llyr use Vahanic often enough in order to be familiar with the intonation. The etherist seemed to have a tendency to switch between different languages when they made love; predictably, none of the things that he said to him, as much as he enjoyed them, were of any use to him now. He was pretty sure that she had told him that her name was Carmen Moura though which he supposed counted for something.
A moment later, the woman was already sitting on his desk rather than on the chair in front of it that was reserved for visitors (and that was quite luxurious, as was the rest of the furniture) which caused him to blink slightly (and temporarily wonder about his papers some of which were important). Before he could say something (and be amused or irritated – he was somewhat torn when it came to which reaction, if any, he should decide on), she was already standing again though …
… and he was none the wiser.
“Ith’ession, Miss Moura?” he asked, in the hope that she could speak something other than Vahanic (most people that he knew spoke at least two languages). “Rakahi?” he continued and followed up with a few words in Common Sign (executed in a somewhat imperfect fashion – sign language was definitely not his forte). It was just then that she started to …
… sing?
His blue eyes widened in a more noticeable fashion as that had been rather unexpected (even after all those centuries there were still some things that surprised him). The corners of his mouth started to twitch a little in amusement as the operatic crescendo rang through the office (and could probably be heard by the people in the hallway and in the adjacent offices as well; some of whom would without a doubt be wondering what Professor Thetys was up to this time – he had received a number of unusual visitors in recent seasons).
When she finished, he simply looked at her for a moment as the sound had been quite overwhelming before he applauded slightly, maintaining an admirable friendly and polite expression on his face in spite of the last note being somewhat on the painful side, as that seemed to be the most appropriate reaction, everything considered – only to suddenly find himself confronted with a …
… leg?
When she lifted her skirt further, he raised a hand in order to signal for her to stop (there was only one person who he was interested in, and that person was definitely not in the room), but lowered it again when he noticed the infected wound on her inner thigh. Was that the reason for her visit? Why had she not just gone to the Infirmary? He did of course have a few supplies in his office, in case a student or a colleague got hurt, but still …
He decided that there was no point in wondering. She was here now, and he would never send a patient that he was capable of treating away.
“This needs to be cleaned and treated with ointment”, he informed her in a calm and measured tone of voice and pointed at her cut before he paused and furrowed his brow once more as she said another couple of words that made little to no sense to him.
“Você? Sangue?” he repeated as those two words had stood out the most to him (besides ‘doutor’ and ‘nel’ – figuring out what that meant had been relatively easy though). “Can you speak more slowly, please, Miss Moura? Show me?” he said, moving his hands in order to hopefully get the point across more easily. “Write it down or draw it maybe?” he continued and pretended to write (or draw) something as having a little more information about what was going on would definitely be helpful.
Notes: Good point. I guess why knock when you can kick? This was a very entertaining interaction and defied my expectations at every turn. It was interesting seeing Doran cope with strange visitors coming to his office despite the language barrier and Ome seemed like an interesting Yludih. I'm curious about where this would have gone with the language barrier and wound- and I'm curious how she was hurt!
I only wish Doran had begun to sing with her. Great job! Enjoy your rewards!
Transformer's Toolbox [Minor]: Azrael can make superficial changes to his appearance (hair, nails, skin, eye, and voice.)
Ever Alluring I: Azrael seems to endure harsh conditions better than others and everyone, despite sexual orientation, is just a bit curious what he would be like in bed.
Spirit Impact
Darksight: Azrael's perception of light and dark have been flipped, allowing him to see more clearly in an absence of light than in the day.
Crow's Embla: So long as he doesn't mention proper names of people, either his own or that of others, he will be able to fit into any setting that he visits in Melrath. Once he uses a proper name of any person (even if it's made up) within another's hearing range, the effect is null until the next trial.
