Ilix and Dusk stuffz

Ilix glared at the mage who would be her master with disdain in her heart. How dare he wear her sword on his belt? How dare he take that part of her identity as if it were a mere object? The sword had not only been used to kill the victims of the Swords of Harvest, but it had also killed a piece of her she would never get back; her innocence.

How dare he carry it as if it is some piece of trash! Ilixendria thought as Dusk handed back the notched and rusted sword with a look that seemed to know how worthless it truly was. Idiot! What would he think of it if I cut him? Her nostrils flared and for a moment she felt less weary even though she knew it was an impossible idea.

Dusk cut off her angered thoughts by quickly informing her of how “lucky” she was, as if the fact she was not dead or somewhere else was a consolation. She could not help but to let a small laugh escape her mouth as she looked upon her flimsy sword with intent to ignore the stupid mage.

The blade had little to no edge left on it from when the knight she took it from had it, and it was as notched as mountains against a sunset sky. Despite the suggestions from Allick, and One Armed Illit to keep her weapon sharp and clean; she could not help but to use it as any other tool. It was an instrument she had used to take a man’s life; why should she not use it for cutting through brush or chop sticks for firewood? Sir Torren had even gone as far to say that she must take care of it if she was to carry it. “A sword is a noble weapon; treat it with care, because it is just as much a part of you as your arm is. You should be proud to carry one.” He had said in his dismally unsure way, and his words barely held any weight; his eyes seemed to suggest that he knew she had stolen it.

Why should I be proud? Ilix looked down at her sword remembering when it still looked new and was sleek with crimson blood. I killed someone.

“. . . You’re better off here,” Dusk said finishing an explanation that she had barely heard.
“I was better off when I was at home,” she found herself repeating her sentiments with a frown. Looking up at the mage she found that he seemed just as tired as she was, but it was in a different way. “I was better off not coming here. I should have stayed on the road.” Perhaps she could have found a master in Ravenholm had she gone with Torren, but she could never afford a horse to catch up with him. If she went back north she could find Zotha and the rest of the Swords of Harvest and perhaps their mage would take her as his apprentice and train her. He was a healer though, and we weren’t on good terms. What a stupid idea.

Dusk stood up suddenly while Ilix weighed her options and he tried again to speak to her, “I’m heading into town to get something to eat; you can come with if you want.” A sharp twist of pain made itself evident in her stomach once more and it became difficult to ignore any longer.

I did not come all this way for nothing, and I already said I’d take a master. There was no point in turning back now; no other way to go but forward. “I don’t care what you call me. I’m starving,” she said with a whisper and stood up.

“Alright, Starving.”

Moving through the kitchen with a gait of nonchalance as every pair of eyes in the room followed him, Dusk didn’t so much as smirk at his joke, and neither did any of the others. It was with concern that they watched him- he could read it in their silence as he kept his eyes on the door- but he wasn’t about to acknowledge them. Their worry wasn’t directed towards him, anyway, and neither was it wholly for the girl tagging along behind him, but rather for Ensign’s stability of mind. He couldn’t blame them, really, he wouldn’t even trust himself with an apprentice; he didn’t want to.

And yet, here he was.

Pushing out the door without waiting to see if it shut behind him, Dusk didn’t dare glance back until the crunch of snow beneath his feet had filled his ears and the chilly winter air had lined his lungs, soothing him just as it always did. His footsteps weren’t alone on the frosty cobblestone, however, reminding him footfall by footfall of his newest obligation without a single suggestion of why he- of all people- would be the one to bear the burden. Perhaps he could just be a horrible master, so much so that Ensign would be forced to rethink his decision? Or he could simply leave and let the matter sort itself out. He didn’t owe her or Ensign anything, after all, and-

Glancing up as a familiar aura caught his attention, Dusk’s eyes narrowed reflexively at the passer-by, their gazes meeting for a single wordless moment before they swiftly moved past each other without so much as a nod in acknowledgement. It was a cold gesture from the both of them, but hardly anything new. There had been something in Keiro’s glance, though, something that forced Dusk’s fists into balls within his coat pockets.

Smugness? Perhaps.

Mockery? Slightly.

Doubt?

“Tch, pretentious old man.” Dusk grumbled, turning the corner sharply into the square. Who the hell did he think he was to judge? He had taken Dusk on as an apprentice out of choice and still failed miserably. Hell, HE could- and would- do better than Keiro had, and he didn’t even want to be a master!

… But, no. He didn’t have to prove anything; that was exactly why he was there in the first place.

“The cinnamon buns here are the best.” Dusk said to Illix, a slightly more flatly then he had intended as they neared the tavern. Even the wafting smell of his favorite food on the crisp late-morning air seemed to have little effect on him, but at least Emria’s welcoming smile hadn’t quite lost its touch. He could always swallow his troubles at least until the first pint came with her around; after all, there weren’t a whole lot of people left who still gave him more than a mistrusting glare anymore.

“Dusk! I thought you would have come in earlier, we had a batch of buns ready. You’re going to have to suffer with slightly cold on-”

Trailing off, Emira’s chocolate eyes drifted past Dusk to the young girl just a few steps behind him, her brows skewing in question.

“Who might this be?” She asked, but Dusk just waved off the answer.

“It’s a long story,” He sighed, taking a seat at the nearest table while motioning for Illix to do the same. “Can we get a half-roast and an ale, though?”

“Sure thing.” Emira nodded, nodding slowly as she tried to gauge Dusk’s mood to no avail. “But you’re going to owe me an explanation when I get back.”

Knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to fight off the small brunette’s will of steel, Dusk simply nodded, garnering a smile in return. The moment she was gone, however, the awkward air between him and ‘Starving’ returned, and he was back to wondering just what Ensign was expecting him to do.

“Uh... so...” He tried, running his fingers on the tabletop. “I hope you like roast.”


(( It might take me a bit to get used to RPing with Dusk again. Bear with me. lol ))

Ilix groaned inwardly at another one of the crimson haired man’s attempts to diffuse the tension that floated about the two. It would not happen. No, it could not. She would never allow him to make her laugh; never allow him to become anything more than what he was. My master.

Begrudgingly she followed him from the room and past the peering eyes of the other mages from the Council remnants. Her heart began a quickened beat when she once again realized where she was. Dozens of mages surrounded her and she had nothing but an old sword and a mages word. What if Ensign lied? For a moment the thought prevailed in her head and in a panic she found herself barely keeping herself from tripping over Dusk’s heels in an effort to be free of the building faster.

The cold air hit Ilix like a stone wall knocking her from her panic while sending a violent tremor racing across her body. Her exposed toes felt as if they were going to burst from the sudden change in temperature, and she could feel the wind tearing at her skin through her patched clothing. Ilix pulled her threadbare cloak about her body for the little warmth and protection it could offer her.

I can’t leave. I would never survive. She had crossed half the world and had become so accustomed to the cold, yet now it was different. She had no direction, no help, no food, no money, and now it was winter. The thought made her feel brittle.

Ilixendria nearly stumbled into her master when his gait slowed momentarily. She turned her head slightly catching sight of the figure that Dusk glanced at; one of the older men who was with the High Mage when she entered his chamber.

“. . . Old man.” She heard Dusk muttering. What was the man to him?

The two of them walked on into the town square making a beeline directly towards the tavern from which the drunken man had come from. Ilix’s stomach grumbled with a stale ache as the scent of cinnamon met her.

“The cinnamon buns here are the best.” Dusk turned to her with a bored voice. The prospect of him being her master did not seem to enthrall him either.

“I’ve only had cinnamon once.” She quietly replied. Lord Tarec Bastia had always been a horrible trader her father always said. Few times did he ever bring in the rarer spices, and when he did it hardly spread any further than the small holdfast overlooking the village, that the Lord lived in.

The two entered the tavern and were immediately bathed in the stuffy warmth the place carried. The air was still thick with smoke from the torches that illuminated the place the previous night, but Ilix welcomed the smell with a faint smile. It smelled of fire and warmth.

“. . . Who might this be?” It took her a moment to realize that anyone had been talking, and another to realize that the question had come from a woman who was talking with Dusk. Ilix’s gaze came up to see who was curious. The woman was very comely with very pretty eyes that reminded her of her sister Iyla that was still living in Enfell. If she wasn’t low born a fair share of lords would pursue her. She found herself thinking sadly.

Dusk diverted the question before Ilix could think up any sort of response, and took a seat at an aged and worn table. Ilix nearly collapsed full on into the seat eager to take the pressure off of her steadily aching legs. She felt with certainty that one of the blisters on her feet had opened up and was likely bleeding oozing.

“Uh . . .So. . .I hope you like roast.” Dusk said the moment the barmaid had gone off to cook their food. Ilix furrowed her brow at his renewed attempt to start a conversation and stared at him momentarily with exhausted eyes.

“Of course I do.” She finally said after deciding to oblige him with some conversation, though her tone would still not be considered anything close to friendly. “I haven’t had a roast since I was in Fisher’s Point and before that since I was in Enfell.” Ilix sighed as her stomach growled once more. “When will we start training?

“After we’re done eating, I guess.” Dusk shrugged, unexpectedly glad to have Illix talking if for no other reason than to take his attention off of running himself in mental circles. The silences still felt like something of a curtain, though, but he wasn’t sure he wanted anything different. This distance was good.

“First we’re going to have to see where you’re at. What sort of experience do you have either fighting or with your magic?” He was willing to guess she had the battle discipline of a street-kid and a control of her magic that sat a step below even that, but at least she seemed to be eager enough to start. He had to wonder how eager she would be when they actually got to it, though, but he supposed it would be a matter of wait-and-see. If she was anything like most Khorsans when it came to their magic, though... no, he wasn’t even going to go there.

“Your ale,” Emira chimed, waking up with a tray full of tankards held expertly in her hand as she set down Dusk’s with her right. With a smile that came rather easy and a nod of thanks, he moved to hand her two coins in payment, but she just shook her head.

“This drink is on the me, but you owe me an explanation.” Despite her fairly serious expression, the girl didn’t even approach a demanding undertone, her voice and expression much to cheerful. There was something in it, though, which Dusk could not turn down. So, albeit somewhat grudgingly, he motioned towards Illix and managed a lopsided half-smile that lacked all of the intended qualities, speaking only once he felt he could do so without sounding bitter.

“This is...” He didn’t rightly know her name, and Emira was only going to pick at him should he call her by any of the two nicknames he’d already given her, and so he got right to the heart of the matter, pausing not for effect, but stability.

“... my apprentice.”

Silence, followed by a glance between them, and then finally something of a confused chuckle, summed up the majority of Emira’s reaction. She was excited, though- That much Dusk could tell from the grin of congratulations spreading across her face- but there was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes as well, but before he could guess at what it was going to mean, she spoke up, catching him off-guard.

“Poor girl.” Emira said, chuckling, as Dusk let out a slightly hurt ‘hey!’. Before he could dig up a proper defense, however, Emira had turned to Illix, a playful smile across her lips.

“Really, you’re going to have to keep him in line. He’s trouble, and a goof, and sometimes a total idiot, But-”

“-Emira, really-” Dusk tried to interject, but was blatantly ignored.

“-but he’s not so bad once you get to know him. You’ll be in good hands.”

Not bothering to comment, Dusk sat back in his chair and took a swig of his drink, setting it down only when she turned back to face him.

“Maybe now you’ll have a reason to stick around, hmm?”

Finding himself unable to draw up a coherent reply, Dusk was glad when a call came from the kitchen, forcing the girl back to work. Ever since he’d returned she had bugged him about leaving, and though the others either didn’t dare to say anything or dared enough to tell him what they thought without sparing the niceties, she had a way of doing it that he didn’t mind. Unfortunately, however, she was wrong.

“Sorry about that.” He groaned, taking another sip as Emira returned again, this time with just a simple ‘here ya go’ as she set the roast down on the table and returned to work. Hoping to avoid another round of awkward banter, Dusk motioned for Illix to take first go at the roast, knowing that she was going to need it more than he was. If anything was going to make the day better, it was a few solid hours of hard training.

Ilix nodded passively and shrugged away looking down at the dirty floor of the tavern suddenly regretting saying anything. He shouldn’t be training her; it should have been the mage with the Swords. She at least knew them by names and personality. Dusk was a stranger, as was Ensign; nothing could stop them from playing an elaborate ruse on her to win her obedience.

“First we are going to have to see where you’re at. What sort of experience do you have either fighting or with your magic?” He asked in the same tone that seemed to say he truly did not care.

“I’ve been trained with a sword. I’m really good with it!” Ilix replied with surety looking back up to Dusk with pride. “Allick said I had a good swing and that one day I’d be a menace on the battlefield. I used to practice every day, that’s how my sword got all nicked up.” That had been a few months though when she was still with the bandits. While she travelled south she almost never practiced because of how tired she would get from walking. Sir Torren obliged her to train twice on their trek north; the first time he gave her a knock on the head so hard that she was unable to stand up for nearly an hour, the second time she managed to bang her finger so hard she thought it was broken. I am a good fighter.

The barmaid returned carrying some ale before Dusk had any time to elaborate and set it down in front of him with a smile. Ilix reached over and grabbed the tankard while her master reached to grab some pay for the girl, scowling at the fact she had been glanced over. She downed a small gulp of the amber liquid and almost choked from how sweet it was compared to what she had been drinking. After a small fit of coughing she slide it back over to Dusk happy to have her dry throat sated.

“This is my apprentice.” The red haired man said only to be met by silence from the barmaid. She was smiling wickedly like it was some kind of joke, and soon Ilix was wishing she could tell her to shut up.

“Poor girl . . . Really, you’re going to have to keep him in line. He’s trouble and a goof, and sometimes a total idiot, But-“

“I know.” Ilixendria replied coolly.

“-Emira, really-“Dusk tried to derail the topic from where it was heading.

“-but he’s not so bad once you get to know him. You’ll be in good hands.” Emira continued.

“I doubt it.” She said with a sneer.

“Maybe now you’ll have reason to stick around.” And silence was the response. What did she mean stick around? Where had Dusk gone? A call sent the girl away and then the two of them were left in silence again staring at each other while her soon to be master seemed too flustered to say more than, “Sorry about that.”

Ilix did not feel it necessary to reply and instead waited till Emira returned with the roast. She did not wait for a sign from Dusk to start eating; she grasped a leg from the small chicken and tore it from the bird violently ignoring the heat from the freshly cooked meal. She bit into the meat like a starved animal and was soon finished and eating from the breast of the chicken with complete disregard to Dusk. It had been a year since she had chicken, a year since she had anything but rabbit stew and venison.

Wiping the grease from her lips Ilixendria sat back in her chair feeling fit to burst from such a meal. She took the time to glance around the room noticing two different pairs of patrons, two laborers who had a Treaganish look about them, and two bearded men with recognizable merchant cloaks. Ilfants? Here? That was passing strange, what would Ra’an merchants want with some lower class village in the heartlands of Lochsalan? She glanced back at the laborers and caught them staring back at her with curiosity in their eyes, perhaps it was just her worn clothing though. They only regarded Dusk with a sneer.

“Why did she say you’d have reason to stick around?” She asked looking back at Dusk curiously. Obviously he had done something; why else would everyone be treating him so oddly. From the off comments from Emira, and the glares from the other mages and the Treagans something was amiss. “Everyone has been looking at you weirdly, what did you do?”

Oh, he could see the glares and sneers from around the room that were aimed his way, but it was through seemingly unrelated sips of his ale and intentional moments where he met the eyes of his onlookers that Dusk pretended not to give a damn. Some, when confronted by his unreadable maroon eyes, would look away in shame, unease, or fear, but there were a few in the inn who dared to match his stare with either challenge or spite- a battle which Dusk was in no mood today to win. Thankfully, a portion of their interest seemed to have turned to Starving (who, by the grease smears on her face, was not longer fit for such a nickname), however the interest was apparently a mutual one as he noticed her taking in the faces of the others in the room before turning to him with a question he should have known to be inevitable- albeit thoroughly unwelcome.

Taking his time, it was only after a couple more sips of his ale that Dusk even began to consider answering, though he found little success at the attempt. What had he done? There had to be some simple answer, right? Something straightforward and to the point that would spare him from a convoluted story that he had no inclination to tell. He didn’t owe her an explanation, though; He didn’t owe it to anyone in the room, but it was for his own momentary peace of mind that he drug a reply out, knowing that evasion would be a step in Keiro’s direction.

“I made a choice.” He said flatly, though without neither shame nor pride. “The wrong one, maybe, but not one I regret.”

Setting a small pile of coins on the table as a burly man just across the floor from them spat on the ground in disgust while shooting off the darkest look he could, Dusk rose from his chair and sighed, not giving the man the satisfaction of a reply. Under different circumstances, perhaps they’d settle their differences, but for the time being he simply gave Emira a nod of thanks as he motioned for Illix to follow him out the door, making a determined turn right the moment they were outside.

After a quick stop at a stall in the market to buy Illix a cloak (which he insisted she wore whether she wanted to or not, because he wasn’t going to go easy on her regardless of the weather), the two were off and moving towards the plains outside of town, the whistling wind their ever-present companion. It was... something of an awkward walk as he continued to consider her question, but once the town was behind them and nothing but the lightly falling snow served as their witness, he managed to loosen up ever so slightly as he focused on the task at hand- only to realize that he had no clue what he was doing.


(( Wasn't sure how far you would want me to go on. If there's not enough to post on here, I can add a couple more sentences that will move things along. ))

“I made a choice.” Dusk’s voice was distant. It was an awkward tone as if he was unsure how to answer her; with what words, or even if he should give an answer. Ilixendria regarded it coldly; it was information and nothing more. She did not care for his sense of privacy, nor did she care to soften the edge from her cutting inquiries. Ilix simply could not place any sense of trust into her new master; she could not put trust into any mages, and she would never allow herself to get attached to them so much as to let them lead her down a path of regret.

Ilix sat quietly wiping the greasy from her fingers with the frayed ends of her cloak and looked dully as her master placed coins into a neat pile in the middle of the table. The little bits of metal stood out in bright contrast to the grime of the table and the overall aesthetic of the tavern in itself, and the sight made her cringe. ~Anyone could take that!~ It would be enough for a few stale loaves of bread and maybe even some cheese, food enough to last her a few days if she were to steal it. Ilix took note of staking out tables in the tavern if things were to go sour with Dusk in the near future.

“At least you stand by it. I hate when people regret too much,” Ilixendria muttered a response as they stood up trying to free themselves from the intoxicating comfort of sitting down early in the morning. It was better to lie and seem confident than tell the truth and seem weak she had figured long ago. Everything from the blood that once wet her blade, to leaving the Swords and most recently Sir Torren she had regretted, but as always it was far too late for her to pull from her head first dive into unfamiliar territory.

Both master and apprentice left the smoke chocked tavern in favor of the dreary iced air morning. The sky was cold and an unbroken plain of sheet iron as far as the eye could see as the pair made their way into the town’s market. Ilix did not say much as Dusk led her along to a pair of stalls outside of a weaver’s shop; Dusk merely looked at her with his stern crimson eyes and told her to wait outside while he went inside to negotiate with the store owner. In just a few short minutes he was back outside with a newly woven brown wool cloak.

“You’re going to be freezing in that ratty cloak.” He said offhandedly throwing the cloak her way, and much to her chagrin he was right and she wrapped the warm cloth around her as a tremor of shivers overcame her. The fabric was rough on her hands as she wrapped it tightly around her. Could she really give up her brother’s cloak for some strange one from a southern nation, given to her by a mage of all people? Sighing sadly Ilix accepted that she could no longer wear the gray threadbare cloak that reminded her so much of home if she wanted to stay warm. ~I must give up Isten’s shield and allow myself to be warmed by the gift of this ass.~ It was a disappointing prospect that she considered on their solemn march out of town.

Awkward step after awkward step she took following closely behind Dusk trying her very best to keep the sole of her boot from ripping clear off. It seemed to be an inevitable battle however, and the more steps she took the faster her toes were covered in the icy moisture of fallen snow.

“I didn’t know I’d hate snow so much till I began travelling.” Ilixendria began looking up at the dancing snowflakes. A quick trip reminded her to keep her eyes locked on the ground with a grim acceptance, “I used to like the snow when I was little.” Dusk had finally stopped at a distant piece of land by the woods that ran along the outskirts of the village’s farms. “Is this where we are to train?”

“At least you stand by it. I hate when people regret too much,”

There was something in Illix’s statement that garnished the last of his drink with a dash of nostalgia as he cleared the glass, though he couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t a matter of mere déjà vu, no, but rather the recollection of a familiar mindset; like the memory of an old friend. The problem, however, was just who that old friend was, as the more he tried to capture the feeling, the faster it recoiled away. That in itself was enough of a hint though, and as the two of them set out he had both found and rejected the answer, letting it blow away with the shifting snow.

Glad that Illix was the first to speak as they came to a stop at their makeshift training grounds, Dusk allowed himself a moment of empathy for the girl whose poorly suppressed longing was hard to ignore. She wouldn’t want his pity, though, and he wasn’t willing to give it regardless, but he couldn’t help but give an agreeable hum to her words and nod to her question as he glanced around at the snow. Being a Firemage meant that the cold was almost never a problem, but it took training to learn to maintain constant and even control for prolonged periods of time. Still, it sounded like a good place to start, and since he had no idea where to start anyway, it seemed like a good foothold.

“Well, why don’t we start there, then. Show me what you can do with magic, and I’ll show you how to control it to keep yourself warm.” If nothing else, it would prolong the amount of time they could spend outside training, and if the girl’s adversity was any indication, she intended to learn what she needed to know as quickly as she could so that she could take off again. Just because she was his apprentice- he shuddered- didn’t mean he had any right to force her to stay.

Ilix stared down at the damp earth restlessly. The snow fluttered down from the heavens light as a feather to soak the ground with its icy plague. The cold snaked through the grass like a swift moving current muddying the earth with a frozen spice allowing snow to collect on it. It bit aggressively at her toes shouting with such a certainty that it would take them from her once and for all. Perhaps this would be the day Ilixendria would remove her boot to discover them black from frost.

I want warmth. I am sick of being cold. Ilix felt herself thinking desperately. It was a crime in itself that she should feel this way. She was from the north; she had travelled for months through the mountains; a man was dead at her hands, yet she could not handle the minor pestilence that was the cold.

Shifting her foot through the coarse grass Ilixendria looked back to her master. It was odd. He seemed to be the very embodiment of flames; his eyes, his hair, his personality all screamed of fire and its willingness to burn whatever it touches if it wished. It seemed natural that Dusk would be a magic user, and almost painfully obvious that he would use fire as his weapon of choice. How then could he expect her to show him his magic? I am as plain as a person can be. I haven’t the look of a mage, nor the peculiarity of their culture.

“I-“ She began to say but grew embarrassed and shifted her gaze to the earth. “I am unsure how to do anything magical. It has always happened at random. I do not think I have ever called on my. . . Magic on my own.” ~Why do I feel like such a fool?~ The idea of going to anyone for any sort of help, yet knowing nothing of what she was supposed to do was shameful no matter what the subject of knowledge was.

There had only been a select few times that magic had ever happened for her. The first time Ilix experienced magic which left her bruised and bloody from her father. Then the odd times when she traveled with the Swords. An accidental fire burning her, water boiling over onto her hand, waking up with her bedroll smoking, and all sorts of odd occurrences that she pretended never happened. She had been beaten, burned, and labeled to be as clumsy as a trained fool, and all of it came from magic.

“I will try.” Ilix declared defiant of her own memories. For a moment she stared at Dusk as if waiting for him to give her a hint, but when none came she averted her gaze to a nearby mound of dirt. It was a disgusting heap pushed over by mules plowing the field last harvest; feces, dirt, hay, and all manners of farm substances were all piled into the mass where now she concentrated all her attention to. The Mage who travelled with the Swords of Harvest was not an adequate mage when she came to think about it. He had difficulty with things that would likely seem like beginners magic to the mages in the house in Himmin. Lighting a fire always seemed to leave him in a daze, and when he healed even the most basic of wounds he would break out into a sweat, yet there was something Ilix noticed he always did. He would concentrate on something and nothing else until something happened. She realized in the most basic of terms.

Bracing herself quickly, Ilix set all of her perception upon the mound of dirt. The grass that clung desperately to the sides suddenly seemed important, the bits of straw that covered it like a light stubble, and the horrible stench it likely exudes. All of it came to the forefront of her mind as she tried to take all of it in then a sudden thought flashed before her, an inferno engulfing the pile of garbage taking it from this world.

A hot pressure ripped the ground out from under her and Ilix was sent flying back several paces with a pain in her chest. The world spun and sizzled in a confusing way and her head hurt fiercely from the fall. There was a buzzing sound coming from somewhere, it took her a moment to realize that she could barely hear anything aside from that sound. What happened? Her chest felt constricted from the impact and it slowly was growing tighter. The pressure mounted moment by moment threatening to crush her before she realized she had not been consciously breathing. Ilix lurched up coughing and choking for air suddenly blinded by how bright it seemed outside.

Nothing else seemed horribly effected around her. The shirt on her was burnt in some places and her hair was slightly frayed, but other than that everything around her seemed relatively the same, and much to her chagrin, the dirt mound had remained untouched.

“That. . . That wasn’t s’posed ta happen.” She sputtered out between coughs, her eyes watered fiercely and she had a growing headache as well. Looking up she could only see what looked like a bemused expression Dusk’s face, or maybe he was un-phased; it was difficult to tell. Yet there was something odd, despite being covered in a layer of cold mud, she did in fact feel warm again.

Knowing too well the destructive potential of untrained Mages, Dusk had made sure to stay on his guard, monitoring Illix’s aura through the Ether while she strained to use her magic. Young as she was, the dancing oranges and yellows that flickered across the surface of her yet untrained aura spoke of a raw power which was as undeniably impressive as it was dangerous, convincing him to take heed beyond diligence as he readied himself for anything. As Illix set into concentration, however, Dusk found himself puzzling at the lack of activity in the Ether, the only symptom of her strain being the slight hastening of the neon tendrils that lit up the Ether.

That was, until he found himself a mere pace away from losing an eyebrow.

“Well, that’s a start.” Dusk spoke, amusement perking up the corner of his lips while he let out a chuckle. The speed with which Illix’s surge of magic had unsheathed itself had bested him even as prepared as he had been, though he had at least managed to shield her from the worst of it at the last second.

“Here,” He walked over, offering her a hand up while doing his best not to smirk at the singed edges of her hair. It was a nostalgic sight.

With Illix back on her feet, Dusk took only a moment to decide where to go next, the answer coming to him almost instinctively as he conjured a ball of flame in his upturned palm and held it out between them.

“The reason it backfired on you like that is because you tried to force it. Think about a candle flame: if you blow on it too gently, nothing will happen, and if you blow too hard you will lose control of it and it will go out. If you get it just right, though, you can turn the flame whichever way you want. With magic, however-“ The flame in his hand rose, shrunk, and returned in size. “-you’re coaxing it by feeding or starving it.” At least, once one could conjure the initial spark, but that would come when she wasn’t at risk of roasting the two of them in the attempt.

“So, here’s the plan,” He quickly followed up, his momentarily instructional tone leaving an odd taste in his mouth. “I want you to try and keep this ball of flame at about this size while I try to change it on you.” Arm outstretched, Dusk nodded towards his hand, motioning for her to go on.

“Well that was a start.” Dusk mused at her misfortune, making light out of what Ilix could consider a near disaster.

Groaning inwardly at her master’s amusement she asked, “What was a start? I did nothing and almost killed myself. How is that any kind of start?” Ilix rubbed her head groggily, and felt the frayed ends of her auburn hair letting the aggravation wash over her. I look like an absolute fool.

Hesitating, Ilixendria pulled herself to a sitting position before almost crying out in pain. The hilt of her blade dug painfully deep into the small of her back leaving a grapefruit sized welt that would only bruise. There could not have been a more battered girl within a hundred leagues of Himmin. With a sigh she pulled herself to her feet shrugging off Dusk’s hand irritably.

At the very least one accomplishment had been met. She felt warmth, true warmth the likes of which she had not felt in months. The core of her being radiated contentment as if it were a calm summer day back home, yet at nearly the cost of her life she could not figure if it was entirely worth it, especially since it did not feel as if the feeling of warmth would last.

Pulling the blade from her back Ilix tossed it to the ground in aggravation. It was harder than she intended, and in a way she felt remorseful for neglecting and abusing something she considered a part of her identity. With a blink of an eye her master had conjured fire from the air and held it between them calmly as if un-phased by the destructive force he held in his hand. Taken aback by the uncertainty of the situation, Ilix stepped back and removed her cloak dropping it on her rusted sword gingerly to protect it from the snow.

“But I didn’t force it. . . Well I don’t think I forced it.” She protested at Dusk’s informative criticism. Perhaps he was right, but it did not feel that way. She had not told her magic to do anything. “I don’t even know how to force it; I just kind of thought of the mound catching on fire. . . Then I hit the ground.”

Everything he asked of her sounded logical in a way. Trying to keep the fire the same size by coaxing it and feeding it, the process made sense, but ho would she know how to do that? What if I cannot maintain control? What if something happens? This time there actually was fire in front of here. Something bad happened when she did not have fire. . . Now that she did there was no telling what could happen.

Sighing reluctantly Ilix reached forward towards the fire, inches from her fingertips the calm candle like flame became enraged at her presence and flared up wildly. With a skip of her heart she pulled her hand back, but once more reached forward focusing on the flames until her head began to ache. Slowly the glow subsided and the fire shrank back to its original state. The effort of the next few minutes exhausted her beyond compare. Ilix’s breath ran shallow, and she broke out in a cold sweat with a throbbing headache, and even with all the effort she could barely keep the flame from getting drastically different from its original form.

Stop! Ilixendria’s conscious screamed out and she stumbled back quickly stumbling back on her cloak and falling to the ground. The air around her bit viciously at her skin freezing her to the bone, and her body shook from tremors.

“It’s too difficult!” She panted, it even seemed as if Dusk had been going easy on her.

“What was a start? I did nothing and almost killed myself. How is that any kind of start?”

Okay, he had to admit, it hadn’t exactly been an encouraging start, but at least the mishap had given him valuable insight into what they needed to work on first. Given the improvisational nature of their whole master-apprentice pairing, however, he didn’t it expect it would be the last blunder either, though the frustration on Illixs face told him that now was hardly the time to mention the rather discouraging fact. Still, shoving off his hand, she made an admirable- albeit defiant- return to her feet before throwing her blade down in anger only to cover it protectively with her cloak a few seconds later.

So, the blade really was important to her, Dusk thought, subconsciously making a mental note. He wasn’t sure why, but it seemed necessary to keep in mind.

Continuing on to the training after bearing the brunt of Illix’s protests without response, Dusk did his best to maintain a balance between providing resistance and feedback. She was trying hard, that much was clear just from the beads of sweat clinging to her forehead, but she clearly had a lot to learn. Still, her admirable perseverance carried her on much longer than Dusk had anticipated, nearly forcing him to call off the drill, but in the interest of seeing just how far the limits of both her stamina and will went he let her carry on without a word until, exasperated and trembling, she collapsed back into the snow with a discouraged cry.

“You were starting to get it,” Dusk assured, letting the flame in his hand extinguish. They needed to take a couple steps back into easier things, sure, but his statement had been honest.

“C’mon, grab your things; let’s take a break.” He spoke without disappointment, this time making no effort to help her up. He wondered if her fiery pride would win out over her apparent willingness to give up, but he’d already learned that the contradicting approaches were as much a part of her personality as they were elusive to his understanding. Either way, she looked like she was freezing, and if she wanted to stay out in the cold any longer, she was either going to have to learn how to control her body temperature quicker than he'd ever heard of anyone doing before, or retrieve her cloak. Somehow he doubted protection from the elements was going to do her any good, anyway.



(( Speaking of rusty... *oils fingers* Looks like I need to whip myself back into RPing shape. ))