ReBeL jUsT fOr KiCkS [Oaks]

[Zain]

The pair continued on their tour of the desert kingdom.  As they passed by the spindle formations, he explains how the flood waters had carved them out long ago.  Since then, the winds have whittled them down further into the skyward spikes they were today.  

As they continue towards the southern border of the territory a strange tall, rocky formation he has never seen before comes into view.  Its bright blueish hue and shimmer is something not of this barren world.  "What the hell is that?" He questions as his undead mass trods closer.  His nares flare as he drinks in the sweet aroma of the crystal-clear waters rushing down the rocky out crop.  "Huh, well that's disgusting," he chokes out as his ember glowing eyes look to Oaks, "I have no idea what this is or what idiot put it here... Must be a sick joke."  Nothing that heavenly should exist here.  He makes a mental note to do something about it later.

Turning back to the path in which he has carved out in his many trips to the common land, he continues on, "Come on, almost there.  Let's go see what we can figure out about your killing things shall we."  His pace quickens to a trot, the exposed parts of his frame twisting in almost unnatural ways.  Thin threads of smoke rise from the open wounds of his body before dissipating into the atmosphere.

As the green plain comes into view his eyes pluck out a spot away from prying eyes.  There is a lone tree with purple buds beginning to burst open, a tell-tale sign of vigorous life.  If Oaks uncontrolled powers really killed things, this would be the perfect test.  "Over there," he calls out to his comrade as his course turns slightly.  His two-beat pace slows as the tree comes up quickly, "Well ain't that just beautiful," he sneers with a chuckle as he stops and looks up to the lavender canopy.

His view remains trained on the tree, noting the condition of it and if any tiny thing was to change, he would see it.  "Ok Oaks, here's what we will do.  I'll watch the tree, see when something changes and let you know.  You are to focus your powers onto this tree,"  he instructs his pupil while remaining focused on the tree, not having noted any changes yet...

Zain

ReBeL jUsT fOr KiCkS

@ Oaks Picked out a pretty, healthy tree for him... Let's see how long it lasts XD

[Oaks]

OAKS

you look well suited

like you came to win

It turns out that the kingdom is more than just a simple desert with a central canyon running through it. It is something almost alive, something that moves and breathes.
Sometimes, perhaps, it weeps.

That’s the sort of image painted in Oaks’ mind, at least, when he listens to Zain’s explanations during their tour. The spindles, like needle teeth, rather intrigue him and he pauses to admire them during their journey. They look dangerous and he remarks passively upon that fact with a nervous sort of shuffle of his wings.

They impressed upon him as the perfect scene for a crucifixion.
(He does not speak this observation aloud. It seems too grim, even in present company.)

The place seems woefully desolate, dry and sparse and quiet as they walk alone. It seems to speak to his heart – empty and wanting, dismal in spite of its feeble attempts to nurture life and harbor hope. He finds the stillness of it all to be relatable, in a depressive sort of way.

When they happen upon the odd outcropping of rocks that mottle one of the minor cliff faces, the scent of clean water is unmistakable. Beside the pureness of it lingers a mild sensation like static, as if the water fizzes with the touch of magic. This intrigues the sheltered optimism in the spotted stallion despite Zain’s clear disdain at the very presence of the merry waterfall.

Oaks says nothing, though, and only tilts his head a little with a slight sag of the opposite wing, its ghostly feathers stretching just vaguely in a shrug. He knows much less about the goings-on of Beqanna than Zain and has no answers for the entity’s presence, though he cannot deny his internal relief at seeing something a little more positive in their otherwise bleak surroundings. Even the vegetation here seems greener and healthier, but they do not linger long.

Their path takes them further south toward the more common lands. Oaks has avoided these parts with determination, but he does not balk this time. Zain’s presence (and most importantly, his apparent resistance to whatever curse Oaks bears in his blood) instills a little more confidence in him than he’s had in years past.

Luckily, they remain isolated rather than seeking the company of others.

He looks upon the tree they stop at with some hesitation, though it is mingled with awe. Its gentle hues and blatant abundance of health are marvelous to behold and Oaks sighs with a soft smile as he admires it.

But Zain’s plans turn toward more formidable notions as he instructs his younger companion to attempt focusing his powers onto the tree. A mild flicker of alarm passes through his reddish-brown eyes before he steadies himself; he’d been asking about taking control of whatever burdensome magic he’d been given and it’s clear that Zain must have taken up the challenge of teaching him.

“I’ve tried before, but…” Oaks speaks meekly but does not finish his statement. Drawing a shallow breath, he holds it in his lungs and turns his attention to the tree, trying to muster his unwieldy magic. He thinks of all the times he’s watched the life and health in others fade, the times he’s seen plants wilt and eyes grow dim. It distresses his gentle heart, though; tears faintly rim his eyes as he exhales.

Nothing has happened to the tree – it still flutters gently with a faint perfume of blooming newness.

“I don’t feel anything,” he observes, blinking to try and dispel the sadness from his face. “I tried,” he assures the taller stallion, “but something’s different… It’s like something’s missing.”

@ Zain

[Zain]

With his eyes trained on the tree he watches for any changes.  Oaks struggles with the magics and he wonders if he has never attempted to harness it before.  

Still nothing happens and he can tell Oaks frustration.  He thinks quickly and then makes a suggestion, "Ok let's try some visualization exercises."  He settles himself in beside the spotted stallion, glowing eyes focused on the lavender tinted tree.  "Alright, so close your eyes.  Visualize your power as a limb, right.  Then feel it reach out from you and touch the tree," he shuffles slightly in place then demonstrates.  

His eyes close as the shadowed arm of his disease magic stretches from him. It is light and simply taps a flower on the nearest branch visible to them.  The pinkish flower begins to wilt.

Opening his eyes he looks to Oaks with a satisfied grin, "See. It's that easy."  When his gaze returns to the tree the disease is spreading at an alarming rate.  His expression is one of confusion and of wonder.  His head tilts as he watches the darkness consume the once brilliant tree.  Glancing down at Oaks he gauges his reaction, just to make sure they were seeing the same thing.  

Within minutes the entire tree in wilted and rotted.  "Huh..." he huffs while pondering possible reasons for the accelerating disease.  The thoughts rattle around his cranium until something pieces together.  What if Oaks power wasn't a choice after all?  He thinks to the conversations they have had previously.  Unexplainable progression of disease and death follow.  And neither him nor the others, the white mare and Margot, fell ill when near.  Could it be because they were not ill already?  Such as with this healthy tree.  Healthy until his disease magic touched it...

He considers the possibilities before suggesting they try something else.

Zain

ReBeL jUsT fOr KiCkS

@ Oaks 
cevik I don't know how to get the fancy letters from my keyboard lol

[Oaks]

OAKS

you look well suited

like you came to win

The tree stands before them, separate from the others and somewhat unique in its vibrance. Oaks can only admire it, feeling a lightness in his heart that is not very common for him.

He does not wish to harm it.

But this lesson is meant to help him explore his unfortunate power and Oaks regretfully pushes away the touch of awe.

He wants answers, after all.

He wants control.

When the first attempt fails, Zain guides him to a different approach. Oaks’ hope had faltered for a moment, uncertainty bleeding into his mind as he’d wondered why this time, unlike all the rest, his curse had not shown itself. Would his companion think him a liar, boasting of some sort of ability he actually does not have?

(Not that it’s anything to flaunt, in Oaks’ mind.)

Luckily, that does not seem to be the case. Oaks closes his eyes when instructed, taking another deep breath to try and steady himself. He does not see the grim, shadowy manifestation of Zain’s own blight reaching toward the tree’s nearest branch, but he listens to the other’s words intently. Bowing his head, he imagines something like a tree branch of his own, stretching from the middle of his chest and out toward the tree.

This visualization is not the true key for his magic to appear – it had been the introduction of sickness that opened the door for the true plague to surface. But when he opens his eyes again to see the tree rapidly withering, its flowers wrinkling and their petals falling like vivid tears, he can only imagine that he had been the sole cause.

His next exhale is heavy; his spectral wings droop slightly. In mere moments, the tree has faded to a dismal gray corpse of itself, its leaves easily snapping away and rattling across the ground below.

At least now he couldn’t be called dishonest.

He wonders aloud after Zain’s next words, “what else should we try?” His tone is rather morose, but then his eyes light upon a solitary cluster of the tree’s flowers that has not faded just yet. While the petals have begun to wilt, they seem to be visibly struggling against their impending fate.

The blooms fade slowly and then stop. Although they do not seem to regain their health, they waver against the sickness within them and almost shudder as if captured by an invisible gust. The leaves around them have already fallen and their stems are beginning to grow dimmer, but at a much slower rate than had just affected all their kin. “Look,” he says softly with a hint of hope, but the moment he steps closer to investigate, whatever spell of suppression they had been captured by is broken.

Their struggle for life finally fails and they dry out just as rapidly as the rest had a few moments before. He has hardly had the chance to lift his nose to them before they, too, succumb and fall away. Another sigh, another saddened shrug of his wings.

He looks back at Zain with a small, sad smile and awaits his next instructions. Still, that very brief glimpse of the struggle to survive had left him curious… what had changed?

@ Zain

[Zain]

Too busy in his own plotting he doesn't realize the faint glimpse of life attempting to hold on in the tree.  His mind has already moved on to what they could destroy next!

His ember lit eyes search the area, finding a secluded nook of brambles not far from them.  It wasn't as vibrant as this tree, had been, but it should suffice.  When Oaks looks too him, he motions towards the area, "Let's try over there."  

The undead thing is visibly in much better spirits than his comrade, but as they arrive to the patch of prickly stems with rosy flowers dotted about, he assures him this was all for the greater good.  

Now standing before it he again instructs Oaks to close his eyes and visualize his magic in a more tangible form.  All the while his own sickness leaches out and touches the nearest rose lightly.  At first the pink petal browns, the first sign of its demise.  Then again it begins to spread much faster than was natural, and his eyes widen with a lustful gaze.  His tattered lips curl into the most sadistic of smiles as he watches it begin to consume the flora.

His joy is short-lived though, as suddenly there is a shift...

Zain

ReBeL jUsT fOr KiCkS

@ Oaks Leaving it open ended for ya!

[Oaks]

OAKS

you look well suited

like you came to win

The demise of the wonderful purple-flowered tree had dampened Oaks’ spirits somewhat. Once again faced with the blatant reality of his curse, the ghostly wings on his shoulders slumped slightly and his eyes grow a bit dimmer in their rusty sheen. A swell of his reddened breast ushers forth a heavy sigh when the last of the flower petals flutter away, crisped and lacking their previous luster. The tree stands as a skeleton before them, blackish-gray with a woeful whisper as the wind passes through its bare fingers.

Zain insists that they try again, though, and as much as Oaks wants to divert his teacher’s focus, he obeys. It wouldn’t be polite to deny the other stallion now, not after pleading with him for help. Besides, he shouldn’t have expected much more from these experiments. The burden of his magic has made itself well-known to him by now and he shouldn’t hope to control it so readily. Silently, the appaloosa turns from the bare, spindly arbor they had created.

The painted stallion assures him that this lesson is only of good-willed intent and Oaks believes him. Why shouldn’t he trust someone offering him the opportunity to better understand and handle the plague he carries?

Another deep breath fills his empty chest. His heart steadies to a low, doleful thrum. The rough bramble of thorns and their meager roses reminds him inevitably of himself. The flowers, vivid within their grim bed, are comparable to himself. Bright, lively, searching for sunlight, they live as best they can while surrounded by the perilous barbs that life had convicted them to live amongst. Any who dared to reach for the pretty blossoms would find themselves scathed by their prickly guards.

Zain reaches to touch a flower, using his own magic (Oaks marvels at his control of it) to kindle a sickness within it. The red-bay’s face grows contemplative for a moment – had it been the tree’s health that had stopped him from affecting it before?

(The supposition is valid, though perhaps muddled by the presence of his temporary suppression acting in equal parts with his acceleration.)

But before the flower’s sickness can spread very far and before Oaks can even attempt to concentrate and channel his own magic, the blight seems to abruptly halt. With a visible sort of shiver, the decay suddenly stops halfway through the thorny bush. Oaks lifts his head a little sharply, a mild toss of his nose; some of the roses have dried and begun to crumble, their stalks and nearby vines audibly cracking, but others remain fresh with plump-petaled blooms and wiry green stems.

“But why?” Oaks wonders aloud, remaining still this time as he marvels at what he considers a miracle. A strange stir in his throat is the only indication that something opposite of the usual is occurring. Where usually his mouth tasted vaguely of ash and dirt when his curse arose, there now comes a pleasant sweetness like clean spring water. Were he not so oblivious, he may have made some sort of connection between the different sensation, but he is too mystified by the event.

For a few moments, the remainder of the bush retains its healthy vibrance, but Oaks remembers the reason for their being there. He closes his eyes almost reluctantly and tries to visualize his misfortunate magic which leaves him unaware of the plant’s eventual shift back. Whether because his imagination of the tree-like branch of magic reaching outward to the bush had been successful, or because the weak suppression had finally given way, the bush does not last.

With another shudder as if shaken from the core, the sickness spreads again. Oaks’ head drops a little once more when he opens his eyes to see the final few flowers fall victim to the illness.

“I think it worked better that time,” he observes a bit quietly, glancing at Zain. “Visualizing it, I mean…” It’s clear that he’s not all that proud of the achievement, but time would grant him the (misgiven) realization that he may actually have some control over the power.

@ Zain