16th trial of Rebirth cycle, 711
-‡- It was nearing dusk. The skies that wove a background of silhouettes were turning from that deft shade of blue and white where clouds mixed their greying hues within the far reaches of the air. Jutting behemoth of stones rose from the dark green depths below where canopies of trees were a mangle of jungle and sparse openings where one could fly to the earthen ground below. The winds were easier to feel at the heights above those lower earthen reaches.
Coroth could feel the wind upon his face, he could feel it weaving it's cooling carress against his still young features that had not the need of a razor as older humans were inclined to use. He though, had barely reached his point of adolescence at this age, but it was coming soon. The inclinations of the wilder side within him were already budding, and growing in degrees that his youth inclined teachers knew of too well, and began to shy away from as they came loose. A tussle of wings behind him unfurled partially, as if itching a nerve within the aching boundaries that they were inherently made to surpass. Their subtly dark blues were similar to the ones in the skies above, with linings of sable threading through their lengths before they were topped with ends of pure white like the clouds.
An exuming sigh was released through his still lithe and agile chest where muscles were yet to begin to grow as they would in adulthood. He yearned for those years, his blood even now was felt turmoilingly beginning to boil at the occurrence he was awaiting for. Even as ochroid depths rose up as he heard the flapping of another's wings foretelling of a second youngling who was still learning to fly. His wings unpracticedly fluttered instead of holding tight at that downwards 25 degree angle that would slow one down. He had to take several steps as he landed nearby upon the roughened packed dirt of the ground that the plateau offered for them to stand upon.
They were a distance away from any other spires of rock. The one who they were to meet chose the location because it was a distance away from the spires used for homes by other avriels. So the witnesses would be at a minimum to say the least. Yet even as an acknowledging nod was sent from the still boiling soul to greet the barely known newcomer more wings drew his attention from the direction that the pit of reflection was at.
"Hail Corro, nows the day…lets' do this..and be the best! I'm ready, I am, I know I'll make it!"
The chiming of the second lads voice rang up with enthusiasm. Yet, he was overly confident, like many avriel. He paced about, anxious, excited at what they were about to undergo. What would enhance their abilities and make them even better than the others, or so they secretly believed. Already, he was showing the lack of discipline of himself, unruly, and unable to control himself even with his excitement and greed for something other avriels were not able to control.
Before an answer was given to the nervous avriel, three others landed. Larger avriel, adult ones. One of them wore light metal pieces of armor upon his pauldrons. A large hilt of a sword harnessed upon his back that jutted above the stiffening softness of his whitened wings. A helmet was also worn, nose piece hanging from the brow dividing the opening of face that also darkened his features. Little was discerned of him except that he was probably one of the guards from the pit.
The second avriel was easily recognized. He was their teacher. They met him at the pit of reflection where they at times spent time at for fun and fascination. As well as a place to throw jokes and ridiculing remarks at the prisoners within. The elder one kept a hood upon his head to conceal himself, or perhaps mutations from wanting to learn too much from the human prisoners who knew of the arcane arts. Between the two adult avriels was a human. They brought him to the site, letting him stand upon his own feet as they landed. His arms were manacled behind his back. Yet he seemed content with his situation. A proud look was upon the humans features. As if he knew of something they did not, and it made him the better, or at least someone of importance that they would not kill or treat as badly as they did with the others. His features were unshaven, his beard had grown out towards the heights of his neck since he'd been discovered and put away. For clothing he wore a long robe that had gained dirt, sweat and the smearing's of stains upon it.
"It is good to see you both have what it takes to show up, and take the test. I distinctly told you that there is a chance you will not make it. The choice is still yours to make, before you are bound." The words were wisened with knowledge, until the last few words, words that were spoken with the elasticity of one who wielded whips on many occasions upon unruly slaves.
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