Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Damian's Origins (Private RP)

Damian sat on his bed in his room beneath the Treasure Lamp. He had been there for a little while now, and he had just about adjusted to life in Porthcaul. The mage had done a fair bit of reading in that time, in addition to helping in the store itself. He was beginning to get comfortable here, and was just about starting to find his place. He had recently begun helping Asher by performing enchanted engravings on his most recent swords. The Beastkin had greatly appreciated his efforts.

However, despite his smooth integration, something felt...missing. He found his mind wandering to his life in Illustra. To the time spent in the Palace Library; to spending time with his father; to his former master. He closed his eyes and sighed. After a moment or two, he looked over to the rucksack sitting on the chair near his bed. Damian stood up and walked over to his rucksack, picking it up and walking back to his bed. The mage opened the bag, and looked inside at the things he had brought with him from Illustra. He took out the pendant that had been given to him by his mother. He held it delicately in his hands, a small, sad smile on his face. He sighed again and put it on his bedside table, it glinting in the light of the ichor-filled light fixture above him. He then took out one of his favorite books that he had constantly read as a child. It was a fictional story about a fierce pirate plundering far-off seas and lands. He placed the book on the bed next to him intending to read it yet again later.

Finally, Damian's eyes alighted on a small book that looked a lot like a journal. The mage took it out of the rucksack and held it gently in his hands. It was bound in rich brown leather, and expertly crafted. His father had given it just before he had started his apprenticeship with Aiënon. It was a book that permitted him and his father to communicate across great distances just by writing in it. Damian's father had an identical copy with him. The sad smile reappeared on his face as he opened the book to read some of the old messages they had written to each other.

This sad smile widened as he read over the original messages they had sent. He and his father had corresponded so much back then. Indeed, Damian would write to his father whenever he had had the chance at the beginnings of his apprenticeship. The mage continued to flip through the book, occasionally stopping to read a page or two before continuing on. Once he had reached the last page that he thought he had written on, he turned the page one last time and saw new writings there. He saw that since he had left Illustra on Zephyr's back, his father had been writing rather frequently. Damian read the messages, seeing that they were all generally the same thing: his father trying to reach him to find out if he was alright. That there was something important that he never got the chance to tell him. That had wondered where he had gone. There were 3 pages full of messages like this. This made Damian feel remorse for not saying goodbye to his father before he had left. He now wished he had.

Damian was about to close the book when he saw new words appearing on top of a fourth page. His father was trying to reach him yet again. It was a smiliar message to the others he had written since Damian had left for Porthcaul. Feeling that this message shouldn't go unanswered, Damian moved over to the desk and picked up a quill that he had bought a few days ago on a trip to the market. He wrote:

Hello, Father. I apologize for not replying. You'll be happy to know that I'm alright, and that I'm safe. I miss you, too.
What was it that you wanted to tell me?

Damian, please write to me to let me know that you’re safe, wherever you are. I miss you greatly. There is something I need to tell you, something I have been meaning to say when you have finished your apprenticeship. I did not think that circumstances would part us so soon.

That was the last message that had been written upon the book shortly before Damian had at last responded.

And, as moments passed after Damian had written that response, new words began to appear upon the page.

Thank the Lotus that you’re alright. I have been worrying. Where are you located now?

Damian felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward at his father's message. And yet, he felt a bit of melancholy despite that. He wanted to tell his father everything, to tell him where he was, what he was doing, about his new companions...but he knew he shouldn't. One of the things that had been stressed to him, Katlina, and Lance was secrecy. However, he also didn't want to keep his father entirely in the dark. He responded:

I am in a town in the Neutral Lands, living in safe and comfortable accommodations. I'm sorry, Father, but I really cannot say any more than that.

There was quite a pause before the next few lines.

...I see. Then I will not pry. I know that you have more than the means to take care of yourself. Just be careful, wherever you are.

Aiënon has informed me that you were aware of the Lotus’ blessing. He misses you terribly as do I. What do you know of it, and how has it manifested in you?

Despite the fact that he knew that his father couldn't see him, he still nodded in response to the latter's request.

I will, don't worry. Also, tell Uncle that I miss him too, but that I still remain steadfast in my decision. As for the blessing

Damian paused, wondering how best to continue. Additionally, the mage had felt a moderately sharp ache manifest within his chest after writing about his former master. He took a moderately deep breath. It was slightly shaky in quality, bespeaking a residual grief that was still there. Doing his best to keep his hand steady, Damian once again put quill to parchment.

As for the blessing, he and I both found out several years ago after I fell unconscious during a blue moon. He brought me to the Twin Kings and we asked why that had happened. It was then they revealed to both me and Aiënon that I had been blessed by the Lotus when I was very young. They also told me that I would be prone to having visions, and that any time I would have one, it would be the Lotus showing me something of great import. I don't know how much Uncle has told you about them, but I have indeed had many visions since then. Additionally, they said that the blessing is responsible for my unusually vast reserve of Ichor.

Several moments passed before more writing scripted itself into the page.

I imagine that their Majesties have omitted the reason for such a blessing, have they not?

Damian's eyes widened a slight bit at the question. Damian's mind flashed back to that day several years ago; back when Kings Nemoto and Minamoto had told him about his blessing. Try as he might, he couldn't remember them telling him why the Lotus had blessed him.

Yes...they have. By request from you, I take it.

Even though it sounded confrontational, he wasn't trying to be.

Yes.

I have wanted to tell this to you in person, for this secret concerns not only you, but myself, as well as your mother.

There was another long pause before the writing continued.

Their Majesties were kind enough to understand, for it is their burden as well. But even if that cannot happen, I would be satisfied to simply deliver the knowledge to you by pen.

You are studious enough that I am confident that you are aware of the fabled EtherFae.

It was a statement and not a question.

Damian's eyes widened again, but responded nonetheless. He had a feeling he knew where his father was going with this, but he didn't want to say it just in case he was wrong.

Yes, I am aware of them. They have been said to have been the original agents of the Sources, in addition to being rumored to have first discovered their existence.

Damian paused, his mind trying to recall everything he had been taught or had read about EtherFae.

They're also thought to be extinct, or nearly so. Other races would hunt them down for their Ichor and harvest it from them.

Damian paused again.

...What are you saying, Father?

Our family is well-connected to the Kings because they, as well as we, are not Elvatian as some claim us to be. And that has kept us protected for as long as we have been, for few know what EtherFolk look like anymore.

Yes, you are EtherFolk, as well as I, as well as their Majesties.

Damian's eyes widened at that, but much more pronounced than before. The room around him all of a sudden felt still and quiet, as if someone or something had sucked all the air out of it. Him? An EtherFae? He had always thought that his mother had been a Half-Elf, or at least had some Human in her, as the shape of his ears was rounded, rather than pointed like his father's were. His quill hovered above the parchment, his mind reeling. He wasn't even sure how to respond to such a thing like that. After a couple of minutes, he finally wrote something.

I'm...but my ears are of a different shape than yours.

He knew that was pathetic by itself, so he added in a bit more.

And what do you mean by "protected"? Do you believe that someone might have the gall to go after Their Majesties, Princess Miracle, You, or me if they knew?

His mind was still racing, and he wasn't sure what else to write. He decided to leave it at that and wait for his father's reply.

I understand how unlikely all of this seems, but I assure you that this is real. We are powerful, that is certain, but even we must be careful. There are eldritch magics out there that have been the downfall of our brethren.

And the reason for your ears is merely the cycle of growth. They will begin to sharpen around when you turn 120 or so.

And yes, that means I am much older than I have told you or anyone else aside from their Majesties.

The Sources have been kind enough to give us their favor, for our kin served them faithfully, some serving them yet still. As one of the few EtherFolk children who still walk this land, the Lotus afforded you special warning as well as the subsequent influx of Ichor to stretch your limits prematurely so that you will be accustomed to them when you are grown. So that you would be able to defend yourself as so needed.

<"Stretching my limits prematurely",> Damian thought. <Well, that's one way to frame it, I suppose.> The common sentiment of wishing that his visions weren't so debilitating made itself known yet again. They made him feel as if he was displaced from his own body, along with all the other usual symptoms. While they were useful in the end, there was a small part of him that resented his gift. However, his father's words seemed to indicate that this wouldn't be the case in the future. He hoped he was right.

Anyway, the mage once again put quill to parchment and wrote his reply.

....How old are you really, Father?

After a few more seconds, Damian added:

And how long have you been an advisor to Their Majesties?

There was a pause before the reply.

I will be 1452 this year. Older than most elves. And I have known the Kings since I was about 790 years old.

I know you have many questions, Damian. Although I may not be omniscient like the Lotus, I will do what I can to answer them.

Damian's eyes widened again, quickly doing the math in his head. His father was almost a millennium and a half old - almost 1000 years older than the mage had initially been told - and had known the Twin Kings for over 6-and-a-half centuries. His father was right, he did indeed have many questions, and while he didn't want to bombard his father with them, he also felt that he really needed all of them answered. He started writing furiously, writing questions that were totally unrelated from one another, but that he felt were all relevant.

How old was mother when she passed? Has anyone ever tried to go after us? Are we immortal? Where did you come from if not originally from Cae'bril? What's the grandest thing you've seen over the centuries?

Damian paused and read what he had written. It was rapid-fire and there didn't really seem to be any thread of consistency to them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. <Slow down, Damian,> he thought. <Slow down.> The Mage turned his quill over in his left hand a few times before writing two more questions:

Why have you waited all this time to tell me that I'm of the EtherFolk? Also, I have a strange inkling that I wasn't only blessed because I'm one of the few EtherFolk children walking Veritae. Would you happen to know what that other reason could be?

There was a long pause. Damian could probably imagine his father waiting for him to finish with a smile on his face, as he used to do when they were in person. Always waiting for his son to stem the torrent of speech before he would respond to any of the raised points.

Your mother was 1189 when she passed.

There was a pause before he continued.

None have pursued me or our family ever since I began living in Cae’bril. However, more than a millennia ago, I had learned the hard way not to trust others with my origins.

If Damian had been waiting for that story, he would be disappointed to know that his father had moved on to his other questions.

I first recollect living rather close to Riven’s Lake in Aësteshire. And the grandest sight...that is a difficult one...perhaps I will return to the question later.

I waited because I did not want you to grow up with that burden. I wanted you to enjoy your childhood, and I wanted you to be strong enough to defend yourself once I gave you this burden. And as for the latter, I fear that I do not know myself. But the Lotus has claimed that you will do great things, and of that I have no doubt.

She has also apparently mentioned something about entrusting you in the care of another, now that her work is complete. But in that too, I do not know her meaning.

Damian read his father's replies to his barrage of questions. He saw that his late mother, Araelia, had been slightly over 250 years younger than his father, but it was evident she shared his and his father's longevity. He just wished that it could have improved her chances in fighting against the illness that killed her. He missed her a lot, and he was sure that his father took the loss even harder than he did, but her death had brought him and his father much closer together, so there was some good to be found in the bad.

The mage wondered what his father meant by "learned the hard way," but the latter moved on from the topic before he could pursue it any further. He was a little disappointed about that, but felt that maybe if he and his father ever met again, he could ask about it then. And "do great things"? Could the Lotus be any more vague? That didn't help with the feeling of uncertainty he had been somewhat plaguing him recently. He exhaled. Damian then wondered about the last statement, in which his father said that the Lotus had mentioned that she had passed his care to another.

He was lost in thought for a couple of minutes before his mind flashed to his visions on the plains just after he and Ayura had destroyed the cursed tome. He remembered how...alien they had felt to him, as if it hadn't been the Lotus who had sent them to him. He wondered if perhaps the entity that had sent him those visions - if it hadn't been Cae'bril's source - was this "another" that he was now apparently in the care of.

He sucked on his quill absentmindedly for another thirty seconds or so before once again putting it to the parchment of his book.

How long ago did you meet mother?

He paused again, unsure of how to continue. He thought for thirty more seconds before resuming his writing.

Was Desolation still Desolation when you lived near Riven's Lake? Is it...is it normal that I feel much smaller and a little more uncertain now that I know how much younger I am relative to before?

Damian exhaled, closing his eyes as he did so. He supposed that was the best he could do for this round of questions.

During the space between Damian’s first and second set of questions, his father Ildris had already begun to respond.

I met your mother on the summer solstice of the year I turned 842. I still remember that day well.

There was a longer pause as he allowed Damian to finish his thoughts, waiting to ascertain that he would be able to respond without interruption.

And yes, the curse of that land is more ancient than I. It had been a stain upon this land for as long as I can remember. Some these days have even forgotten that Desolation was once a kingdom for itself, history says. But nowhere have I ever found the name of this kingdom.

And that is normal, however you must enjoy that feeling of youth while it lasts. You will outlive many around you, and it can be a lonely place.

Damian read his father's response, and thought about addressing all of his points...but then his eyes settled on the words "lonely place." He wondered how lonely his father was now. He himself had left Illustra a short while ago, and his mother had died over four decades previously. He closed his eyes and sighed. Again trying to keep his hand from shaking, Damian wrote his next response.

Father, if I may ask, are you faring alright without me?

There was a long silence.

Damian may have even thought that something else had drawn his father's attention away from their correspondence.

Except, that would have been ruled out by a spot of ink that suddenly bloomed upon the page.