Aegils Humble Abode

[Aegil]

Abandoned Warehouse

Aegils 'home' was but a simple place she had happened across. Requiring a location within city limits (so as to arouse less suspicion) but with not a coin to spare, she was wandering the streets somewhere near the docks in the direction of the poorer section of town, when her Spectre pointed out a section of wall. The warehouse was an old crumbled thing, broken down and forgotten about; though it was sometimes put to use. The wall she discovered had a few loose bricks near the bottom. Shoving these aside she crawled through to discover a small room with mild furnishings. What was once a form of break room for workers was long abandoned, the only door out sealed shut and caked with so much dust and dirt and blocked by rubbish it was forgotten about.

Pleased with the discovery, she set to work cleaning up the worst of the rubbish and was left with a pile of boxes as a desk space, a broken down sofa to sleep on, and a window that was dirty enough to hide the inside of the room while still providing some light in the day. She kept a few candles on the 'desk' with her quill, ink pot and flint. She has no blankets and sleeps with her cloak for warmth. Yet despite its homely appearance, it is as close a home for her as she has known in many years. She has also set up a thin board on wheels attatched to string and piled the bricks on top for an easier exit and entrance.

[Aegil]

Aegil allowed herself a moment to stand there, eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the swirling dust particles that danced about her. Slowly she knelt, leaning on her staff to pull the cord that 'shut the door' in a loose sense. As the day faded into evening, the light too left her with little guidance, so as she entered she paused to light the candle on her 'desk' with the flint stone and gently placing her book on the table. She moved now with more grace, dropping the act she lost herself in amongst the crowds, and as such placed the staff against the wall and settled herself before the desk. Her fingers undid the twine with practiced ease, a pull here and a tug there and viola! The way the book relaxed would have made it seem to sigh in relief, like a lady finally slipping from a corset at the end of a ball. Balling the twine neatly and placing it aside, she carefully leafed through the various parchments and pages to a blank section, lightly dipped the quill in the ink with a shiver to lessen the blob that clung to the tip, and began to scribble away the events of today in her illegible encoded script. Her shadow, free to form as it pleased in the privacy, spiraled up into the form of a cloaked man, its coweled face a sea of such darkness to hold depth. Looking into that 'face' was like looking into a bottomless pit, and it always gave Aegil a bad case of vertigo. The shadow peered over her shoulder, wisps of its form sometimes snaking over her shoulder or such, but always a hairs breath from touching. Used to such annoyances, Aegil paid his distractions no mind and continued to write.

[Aegil]

Aegil had returned after a long day. Her heart had hardened after the three headed dog had closed its eyes, and she continued to keep the feelings she may have experienced locked away. Still, she was unable to push away the feeling of... well of being lost and strangly alone. This feeling was only magnified as she pulled the stones shut behind her.

A shiver crawled up her spine and she unconciously drew her cloak tighter. No, this was her life. This was her future and, as depressingly empty as it was, it was hers. These... adventures as of late.. a means to fill a void, she presumed. But it could not fill the empty spot that waited for purpose to seat within. Why was she here? Alive? Moving forward? What was she moving toward? So far she only knew what she was running from. But... surely her uncle could never find her here? Yes... she was.. safe from him at least. Again the brooding feeling of empty purpose overwhelmed her. Then if she had no more need to run... what now? She kept this creature tethered to her, a burden that she had summoned herself. No-one else deserved this thing... but would it die with her? Or would the spell break with her last breath... Spectre was her only company, and often he tried to fool her, to toy with those emotions she so carefully locked away inside. Try to trick her, make her believe he cared. No... not he.. it. It tried to trick her. Giving the Spectre a gender only gave it more resolve, and she would not allow that.
As if in synch with her thoughts, which he always was, Spectre rose from the shadows at her feet, a tall stooped figure of robes before her. 'Does thy maiden detest thou's creation so deeply?' His voice, unbidden, rose into her thoughts, a turmoil of various pitches and tones in harsh hisses that jumped about mid-sentance, several times. Yet at these moments when he would toy with her, for her heart was never able to close against him, his voice would stretch into a smoother tone, a carressing hiss like ice. 'Had thine flesh been given, would thou's thoughts be changed?' He lifted a thin fingered hand of shadows the carress her cheek. 'Had thy a body-'

"You shall have no such thing!" Her voice tremored faintly, betraying her and cracking the harsh ice of her words. "You shall have no flesh, for I tremor to think what disators you would reak then!" A split formed, an opening in the Spectres face. A mocking needle-teeth grin. 'Aye thou tremors, but for fear? Thou's creation thinks naught...' The hand trailed across her cheek and brushed against the side of her throat. 'Forget...little fireling...for but a night forget...' The day had left her broken and lacking the strength to chase him away. Her staff slipped from her hands and clattered to the ground as she sank to the couch, wrapped in that horrid creatures embrace. And as he oh so gently brushed fingers of shadow through her hair and whispered sweet empty words into her mind, she pushed aside the feelings, including those which screamed at her for giving in once again. For when there is no-one to hold you as a child, it is often you seek this affection desperatly as an adult, even when you know how truely empty it is.

[Aegil]

Aegil blinked away the early morning light filtering in, a sigh escaping her lips. A passerbys shadow threw the room in darkness for a moment, disorientating the young woman as she started to sit up. A gasp escaped as she wrapped an arm over her chest, the pain from the previous days endevors hitting her.

She reached for her staff, leaning heavily on it in order to stand. No doubt she would need to see a doctor or healer.. Her gaze moved to the plant, the one success she had had, and the elfs words of wisdom flitted through her mind. "Life in even the most dead of places..." she chuckled and shook her head, limping over to the 'desk'. She had put a larger plank with more bricks, and an old rectangular box sat near the back of the desk. On this raised dias sat two empty containers on either side of a third, not so empty one.

The Angelica plant sat in a rusted old cooking pot, and it seemed rather content and healthy. To the left was large mug, like one seen in the taverns, cracked and chipped and missing the handle. To the right sat a small flower basket, woven, within a slightly larger bowl, cracked and dirty. The 'empty' containers held fresh soil, waiting for more herbs. But before she continued her hunt... another gasp as she nearly sunk to her knees. Her exhaustian the day before had numbed her slightly, but now her ribs screamed at her for her foolishness. She kept her arm around her chest, struggling to crawl out the 'door' and push it behind her, then continued her limping search for a medical proffesional, for once not pretending.

[Aegil]

Aegils Lullaby
Origato wer raelgil mitne,
Dout wurunwi vur togik mojka wer,
Malrunwai,
Tir ti l'gra ihk si mi,
Tenpiswo ekess,
Dronilnr,
Creol,
Martivir ekess dout,
Ricin.
Filki,
Etrerzz ihk ve.
Svadrav,
Wer l'gra,
Ui kiri,
Kiarf filki jilg sia cha'sid vur,
Yth geou ehtah,
Vi idol ekik di wer whedab.

Let the crystal light your dreams,
and chase away the nightmares,
do not fear for I am here
to bring some peace to your mind.
Just shout for me.
When the fear is too much,
just hold my hand,
and we will find a way,
out of the dark.

This is the translator used for the language of Aegils homeland, which is so secluded they tend to speak their own language, though they also speak common. draconic.twilightrealm.com/

[Aegil]

Also the translator is buggy so certain words may not translate, including but not limited to words coupled with apostrophes, quotations and other symbols, or touching periods, commas and so forth. Saying He's dead would not translate but he is would.

[Aegil]

When Aegil returned the next night, she felt much better. Shen had certainly done an excellent job, though the effects of the Rotroot had left her wary of him, and she would have to be careful in the future. Spectre had calmed, but he still would not reveal to her what had happened. She remembered bits in pieces but that was it. Her eyes trailed to her Angelica plant. She studied it for a moment. She wasnt quite sure, so she carefully picked up the whole thing and tucked it under her arm and made her way back out again. He could take his pick then of it.

[Aegil]

A rattling cough sent her form shaking violently. Blood slipped between her fingers, spraying the dirt floor with darker rouge. A sickening splat announced the mess but was lost amongst the ringing in her ears. She collspsed just inches from the moldy piece of furniture. The place seemed more decripit since she had left, much like the steady deterioration of her state of mind. Spectre had become more melevolent, his assaults on her essence more brutal and unrestrained. Still, she had her control.

Once more she entertained those thoughts. Those frets. Questioning her purpose and continual drive to see each morn yet with no clear path in mind. She fought violently ifonly to see the sun rise, then fought to see the moon. Then continuisly repeat, yet to what end? Her notes had been destroyed. She no longer knew where to begin her search for answers, and she began to fear she never would. Her drive to rid herself of spectre had shattered, for his power and hers had become far too intertwined now. So to what end did she reach for now? She tempted herself with the old pattern, revenge. To take the life of her Uncle.

The thought had a nice ring to it... though maybe that was Spectres influence on her mind. She growled angrily, pushing his influence back. The constant battles showed in her physique. Heavy fatigue left her ill andd vulnerable, and she had lik3ly attracted some sort of chest cold. Perhaps that healer was still lurking the town. As much as he unnerved her, he was a proffessional and effecient. It could wait till morning though surely...