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Wisp's Grove - Printable Version

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Wisp's Grove - Tindome - 11-08-2014

[Image: grove.png]

    The Will-o’-the-Wisp is a lesser fae, not that one would know it to hear men talk. The Wisp will lead a man astray, the Wisp will draw mortals away from the path to be lost in the wild wood forever. If they are seen again, if ever they are seen again, they are not the person that they once were.

    It is desire that drives mortals to the Grove, desire for power or for wealth or for love. The Wisp will satisfy any desire, for a price. For some, the price may seem too steep. The price is always too steep, but not everyone realizes it.

    The Wisp is a creature of deals and of bargains, give and take. One cannot take from the Wisp nor from the Grove without having something taken in return. The Wisp plays with words, but if one does not ask permission, than neither will the Wisp. These are the rules, though they go unwritten and unsaid.

    For mortals, the waters of the Grove can heal, can rejuvenate, can work wonders. For witches it is a powerful reagent. For folk with magic in their blood, the waters will energize them and make their magic more powerful, for a time.

    It is a lesser fae, but that does not mean other fae are free from paying the Wisp’s price. While magic, fae and otherwise, can lead one to the Grove uninvited, that does not mean it can be stolen from.

    The Grove is beautiful and it is peaceful, and the Wisp is always perfect. Perfectly comforting or perfectly terrifying, beautiful or handsome, it is always exactly what is desired.

    Whether it wants to be or not.

Guidelines



Wisp's Grove - Tindome - 11-08-2014

    The Wisp was incapable of boredom. It had no desires to call its own, so in the absence of another’s, there was nothing for it to want or dislike. It was formless, indistinct. They may have been short or they may have been tall, may have been lovely or may have been fearsome. Their last guest had been a fae, and so what form it had was closest to Jack. Not quite, but close.

    Some things never changed. Their skin was dark, their hair the same shade, as if they had been formed entirely of the earth. Their eyes were green, green as leaves or as grass. And the pointed ears were never gone, not quite.

    They sat in the grass now, eating an apple. Such things were not what sustained it, but it was something to do, and the action sometimes encouraged visitors to do the same. Stolen apples were enough for a meal, however small.

    They did not sing or hum, but made a sound instead like bells in the wind as they waited for a meal to find them.



Wisp's Grove - Hobo_Bob - 11-14-2014

[Image: sinful_zpsyqb3lha5.png]
A large scarf around her head and shoulders, covering her head and face from any that would see her. A blackened basket of a very well made design and a bit of yellow material along the handle to fasten to to her wrist. There was not much in said basket. A loaf of bread, some carrots, dried meat and two pears. Enough for one on this travel, depending on the destination. 

The road veered off in two separate ways, the left an the right. The appearance - at first - looked to be the same and yet she knew one road took her into the mountains, where she was heading, and the other into a village. Where she did not wish to go. A township meant people, and that meant many other things. Mostly, things this one did not want to worry about.

A silent sigh left her lips and she tried to recall the directions her mother had given her. She knew there would be no way to remember the words if she thought on them for too long, so best to sit aside from the road and rest a while.

That was when things became a little strange...

The clearing she sat in was not far from the road. Atop a little hill, visible from the road if she did not cover herself in the shade of a tree so it would be difficult. Shoes off to her side and scarf uncovering her locks of mocha brown and kisses of red and gold. Yet the eyes. Heterochromia. One was a true green and the other a mysterious purple. There was no noise about her, which was what scared her more than the actual roar or a bear.

It must have smelled the food she carried with her and came to eat. She heard the animal before she saw it. but she gathered her things and ran. Her legs carried her further up the hill, away from the sound of the bear and deeper into the woods. Juniper, oak tree, oak tree. This one kept a tally of what she passed so when she needed to return it would be easy find her way back.

Only when she burst thorough another clearing, closer to water and tripped over the legs of what she thought was a very handsome man did she stop. She was forced to, but she did and tumbled to the ground without so much as a sound from her throat. 



Wisp's Grove - Tindome - 11-15-2014

    Mortals stumbled into his grove often enough, but it wasn't often that they stumbled over him. How interesting, how strange.

    Jack took another bite of his apple, considering the woman who'd fallen into the grass beside him. There was nothing to fear from wild animals here, and so he did not concern himself with it. She was a pretty one, but he could be pretty, too. If all that had brought her here was her desire for safety, she wouldn't have much for him to eat, and that would be a disappointment.

    "Hello," he said finally, having made no move to help her up or otherwise assist her. "Did you need something?"

    Which was horribly rude of him. But Jack tended to be.



Wisp's Grove - Hobo_Bob - 11-16-2014

[Image: sinful_zpsyqb3lha5.png]
This one looked up to the one that spoke to her while eating an apple, the hood over her head keeping her face slightly hidden but for her lips and nose.

Her eyes stared at his handsome face and dark skin. Bright eyes into two tones and she wondered why someone was out here like this? Was he hiding or was this place close to his home? Maybe he was just taking a break, like she had a moment ago before she had to run. Breathless, she sat up removed the scarf from her head and brushed out her hair a little while he nonchalantly asked her if she needed something. 

This one did not speak.
Instead, her hands came up from her lap and moved in such a way to try and express something to him. Forming words, or perhaps readying a spell. But there was no magic about her. No a scent or feeling. Nothing special but for her eyes. 

He did not seem to understand her language of hands. So, she toyed with her ear lobe and gave him a small smile. A self-pitying smile since she could not speak in order to communicate with someone. 

Once more, she moved her hands to form a circle and looked at him though her fingers. The town she was travailing to started with an 'O'. Next, she pressed her fingers together, keeping her palms away from each other by creating an upside down 'V', like the roof tops of a house. 

Maybe she was doing this wrong....



Wisp's Grove - Tindome - 11-21-2014

    Curiouser and curiouser.

    He did not speak this language of hers, though he could understand any word that was spoken, though his tongue could form any sounds. He could not even comprehend it as a language, so outside of his understanding was it.

    Could he touch her? She hadn't asked for anything, nor taken. Or perhaps she had, if he assumed she had wanted shelter, because he had certainly given her that. Safety was surely worth a few trifling touches. It was not often that he justified touching others, since his touch was usually something for others to earn, but he was curious.

    Tossing aside his apple, he took her wrists; his touch was effervescent. He turned her hand around, furrowing his brow as he looked at her palms. There was nothing there, neither magic nor mundane; only hands. He had not the slightest idea what she'd been trying to do with them, waving around like that, but she was still much more silent than any mortal woman he'd met.

    "Who stole your words?" he asked, releasing her hands to press a curious finger at the hollow between her collarbones, as if he would find them hiding there. He had done it himself, sometimes, stealing the words from people, but he'd never had anyone come to his grove with their words already stolen.



Wisp's Grove - Hobo_Bob - 11-22-2014

[Image: sinful_zpsyqb3lha5.png]
Was the apple rotten that he should throw it away so easily?

This one watched the piece of fruit roll away from them and then nearly jumped as her wrists were caught. Alarmed at the sudden grasp, her body froze. But she did not look afraid of him. If anything, they looked even more confused now than they had a moment ago. 

Maybe he grasped her because the fruit was bad. The way he turned her hands this way and that, staring at them as if they were a mysterious thing she had just created with the grass all around them. Was it perhaps he was trying to signal to her of any distress?

Unfortunately, that was not the case. 

He was curious as to why she did not speak. 

This one just smiled in response. 

It was a common question. How was she mute? Was it something that happened in birth or an accident afterwards? Perhaps if they understood her language of hands, the reply would be understood and come easily. As it was, the more she tried to show people her way of speaking, the less they cared about it. About her. 

So, this one would simply smile and lower her gaze in thought. If she had a pen and paper, she could write. So, instead, she set a finger on his leg and 'wrote' the word 'father'. 



Wisp's Grove - Tindome - 11-26-2014

    He did understand words written, though he had less need and less cause for it. Nothing more embarrassing than an illiterate faerie. Father, she wrote against the gossamer of his trousers, but such an answer meant very little to him. It did not tell him the whys or the wherefores; he had thought perhaps a rival fae, but to be told of a man was much less informative.

    He had not even known mortal men could take such things. And what would he even have done with it? Not eaten it, surely.

    He would ask no more questions, lest he rack up a debt.

    "Would you like new ones?" he asked instead. "I could give you a very pretty voice. Or a loud one. One for speaking or one for singing, to be loved or to be feared. It wouldn't be free, but it would be worth it."



Wisp's Grove - Hobo_Bob - 11-26-2014

[Image: sinful_zpsyqb3lha5.png]
This one didn't understand what he was saying. Give her a voice? It was a sweet offer, even if it meant she would have to pay in in return for it, but how could he do that? Follow her around and interpret what she said? Show her a stone to write words so she could be 'heard?' Or perhaps he would be able to give her words back. Literally breaking the curse and giving them back.

Could he?

This one tugged on her left ear lobe softly again in thought, bi-colored oculars staring into his with such thought that it was difficult to know what she was thinking. 

Repercussions. Back-fire. Wrath. And then excitement. Adventure. A nod.

At least he could try. If the seal on her words was broken, then what would he ask in return? There were things she could find to bring to him, but she had little in her immediate possession. 

This one moved closer to him. One hand grasped at her throat and then both hands covered her eyes as if they both hurt. But only for a moment. She brought her hair to one shoulder and leaned forward enough to nearly rest her head on his lap. Should he look down to the back of her neck, a brand.

A black curse mark. 

Branded into her skin and yet it was not puckered. Smooth and inky like a tattoo. It was a depiction of a tree bent to a circle with five creatures in the middle. So small and fine were the details, it was hard to see with average human eyes. Yet she knew the creatures were large lizards. Not drakes, but something very much like them in form.


Wisp's Grove - Tindome - 11-28-2014

    Jack was quite pleased by her easy acquiescence; an easy meal, he thought, to take the light from her eyes or the nimbleness from her fingers.

    It was a little surprising when she practically dropped her face into his lap, but he saw then what it was she was actually trying to do. He did not recognize the symbol or the magic written in it, and he frowned. So her words were not stolen, but bound. A cursebreaker he could be, but not a powerful one. Minor hexes, the work of hedge witches, lesser fae magics – all these and more he could take or destroy. She did not look faeblood, or have the feel of a witch, and she said it was her father who had bound her so.

    Hm.

    Well. Couldn't be that much harm in trying.

    He touched a finger to the brand, to try and break or take it, to push or to pull. A sound like a cacophony of bells, a sound of surprise, and he burst. Where Jack had been there was only a glimmer of golden light, a shimmer in the air that dissipated like morning mist in the sunlight.

    With a gasp, he came forth from the surface of the water in the center of the grove, emerging with a toss of his hair. "You didn't say it would do that," he accused, as if she could have. He looked more androgynous than he had before, less human… and less clothed. He dunked himself back under the water, and as he walked out he was dressed in a tunic and tights, even his boots white, everything all trimmed in gold. Finery was a poor balm for his wounded ego, but it would have to do.

    "I won't be trying that again," he said, and he brought his hands together. As they came apart, they held a lute, that seemed to have been made with some kind of white wood that left it looking very plain. "Here," he said as he offered it to her, "try this."



Wisp's Grove - Hobo_Bob - 11-28-2014

[Image: sinful_zpsyqb3lha5.png]
This one waited.

Breathing softly against his leg, she hoped that he could break the curse that bound her words. So many of her kind - human and dream - had different variations or side effects of the curse. Some were blind or deaf. Some lost their youth and looks, dying very young in years. Others just died immediately. Indiel lost her voice. From birth, she remembers singing like the others in the caravan. But once she was nine, it all stopped. 

Just silence and pain when she tried.

She wasn't able to resist the twinge in her shoulders at being touched. Then, she felt the burn. All over again, like when it had first sinked into her skin and her hands slammed into the grass to hold onto something. The bring shimmer all around her wasn't seen till just before it dissipated.

He was gone...

Did she accidentally cause his death? Indiel sat up slowly, the mark glowing bright and making that hiss, the cent of burning flesh clinging in the air around her. It made her stomach turn just a little. A moment passed, and she looked up at the splash of water. How did he get way over there? And-....with nearly nothing on. Her face did not blush, no. There was no reddening involved. It turned into an explosion of fire. Both hands came up and covered what happened in the flustered state of her 'kisser', hiding it from view and keeping her eyes from seeing anything she was not used to seeing on a man.


Or, another being. He was neither male or female, but still a beauty. She had not the time to see anything private, her eyes and face being covered automatically to avoid such a thing. He looked a little different as well. As if he had shed his skin into something similar, but all together something else. Maybe just as pleasing to gaze at. Not that she was, seeing as he had somehow lost his clothing. And the fact that he seemed to blame her for what had happened to him.

'Truely, I did not know....' It was hard to speak this to him, she had no voice. Her hands kept her face from view, so not even they could speak for her. Another splash of water and this was amended by her hands covering just her mouth. Had he fallen? No, just-....changed his clothes. He was certainly magical and not human if he could do something like that so quickly. 

Indiel stood and made her way over to him, her vision blurring just enough from the throb of the mark on her neck acting against the gentleman, and looked at the lute he held out to her. It was very beautiful. But-.....expensive looking. Looking from the lute and into his face, she was worried once more that she had inadvertently hurt him. 

One hand tapped her chest twice and then was placed on his chest for a moment. She held an expression of pain, concern and worry. Then, using both hands she pointed her index fingers at each other to move them in a twisting fashion, as if to wring out a piece of cloth. She was asking if he was in pain the only way she knew how. The lute was beautiful, and she wanted to play it just for fun. But his well being was more important than entertainment.


Wisp's Grove - Tindome - 11-30-2014

    She was very shy seeming, for a woman who'd had her head in his lap. But perhaps it was different when he was clothed. It made little enough difference to him, but mortals had very strong feelings about that sort of thing.

    He frowned as she began to gesture again, things that still meant nothing to him. Trying to indicate that she was in pain, perhaps? Jack had no such trouble, now, though he was much hungrier than he'd been. Practically ravenous. He'd have eaten as many parts of her as he could, if that brand hadn't made him cautious. It seemed like it might catch in his throat, metaphorically speaking.

    For now he settled for moving suddenly next to her, one moment there and one moment not, and pressing his lips to her shoulder. It drew the pain out of her, and he swallowed it whole, though it was still barely a trifle. Of course, pain carried with it feeling, and caution besides. They would all of them return to her in time, but for now she would have to do without.

    Most people didn't notice the less favorable side effects of that trick, anyway. She could have just drank of the grove, but that wouldn't have given him anything to eat.

    "There," he said, as if he had answered a question she had not asked. "Now will you try your new voice?" he asked, offering the lute again though he could not force it into her hands, still standing very close. "See if it suits you."



Wisp's Grove - Hobo_Bob - 11-30-2014

[Image: sinful_zpsyqb3lha5.png]
She blinked and he was gone, a pair of lips to her bare shoulder and Indiel felt a strange rush go through her body at that feeling. The pain in the back of her neck edging away and it did the most strange of things to her person. She became angry and sleepy, wobbling on her feet. As if she had one too many pints of ale. 

Eyes closed and brow furrowed, she focused on standing. Letting the dizziness fall away so she could open her eyes and set her gaze on him and the instrument he was offering to her again. 

What was it with this guy and trying to help her or give her gifts? Was he trying to get into her dress or was there something more he was after? No one just gave gifts for nothing, and certainly not an instrument.

Looking to the lute in his hands, she took it and give it a few strums despite this. She was not accepting it, just trying it as he said. On the wood of the lute, as she played a few strings, a picture of the pair of them. She playing the lute and then his hand on her knee. She gave the instrument back and moved away from him, yet he kept trying to reach for her. 

The pictures stopped there and she handed the instrument back to him, even more confused and looking flustered. What was going on now? What was he really playing at?


Wisp's Grove - Tindome - 11-30-2014

    With a pleased grin, he took the instrument back. "You see? A fine voice. I understood you perfectly well, that time." He twirled it carelessly in his hands. "You don't have to take it," he said, "and I won't chase you if you want to go." He brought his face nearer to hers with a grin, smooth skin and white teeth and smelling of clover. "Even if you are pretty."

    There was no real reason to have said that except to unsettle her.

    He drew back to a more comfortable distance, and considered the lute that he held. "I'll leave you be if you prefer it," he said, "but it seems a shame to go without such a very fine voice." It wasn't necessary that he be attractive to convince her to make a deal, but it was the way his form went anyway, gradually and naturally drifting toward whatever she found most appealing.

    "I would be happy to trade you for it," he said, though he didn't hold it out to her again. "Nothing you wouldn't be willing to part with. I'll even let you make the first offer." Though how she would make it, when he could never understand what her gestures were meant to convey, was a question he left unanswered.



Wisp's Grove - Hobo_Bob - 11-30-2014

[Image: sinful_zpsyqb3lha5.png]
Turning about to face him, his face was very close. Indiel froze for a moment at his words, not sure what to take from them other then this was a kind of game to him. A little cat and mouse, but something else. Of course she wanted the instrument. Show people her thoughts or replies when they spoke to her yet there was something else. Having her own instrument to play. 

There was once a violin, but that went up in flames along with a very bad month in a prison, sentenced there for sorcery when the judge pointed out one needed to be able to speak to cast spells. 

This one rubbed and tugged on her left ear lobe again as she mentally sighed at the distance. Thankful that he would not come near her despite his looks. And despite the strange pull she had to him. It was magical, to be sure, an allure that the fae had. She suspected him of being a fae due to his appearance alone now that she could see him. A different form, but none the less attractive. 

A trade? 

Her eyes went to her basket and to the items inside. Even a few of the hidden ones. Maybe a trade wouldn't be a bad idea, given the fact that not everyone got to meet a fae and do an honest trade. No matter what was taken. 

Once more, she smiled softly and gave a nod. Holding out her hands as if to say 'stop' she moved to her forgotten basket and carefully removed the food she had left and took out a bound package and a small wooden jewelry box. The items were special, precious and strange. But she had no magic - unlike her mother - to use them.

Indiel opened the wooden box and showed him a plain silver band. It shimmered beautifully, but otherwise was not very special to the eyes. The other was a vibrant red cloth. It seemed to be of woven material, but as soon as her hand ran across the cloth, it came to life. The color seemed to move and follow her hand, darkening in color and consistency.

Like blood in cloth form. It always scared her to use for protection from the rain. A good steal, more recent, but creepy worthy in her eyes.