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Down by the Port | Wade

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Down by the Port | Wade Empty Down by the Port | Wade

Post by Ilias Thu Mar 03, 2022 11:14 pm

spirit of my silence i hear you, singing for the dead
Down by the port, amid one of the many lively nights, commotion had struck. From the wharf did it begin: a small tide of hearsay that not long after it’s rise, ebbed, swelled, and washed over the nearby locales. Townies and travelers alike responded to the receding pull of the news-induced waves by gathering at one of the many docks, for it seemed the waters had proved far too interesting to be left ignored.

“What’s happening?” asked one person, their eyes wide and curious as the rest of the onlookers, as from within the growing circle of people did a faint glow grow ever brighter. And from this faint glow did bizarre orbs of light glide in graceful spires that both awed and baffled the crowd. They were almost akin to a collection of dozens of wispies, the most knowledgeable of adventurers could compare, but their true nature was not that of one of the fantastical creatures that inhabited the land—no.

There was more to it than that.

The crowd noisily parted when, from atop a tall man’s shoulder, a child reached for one of the many spheres. It dispersed in her small hands, the gentle glow dissolving between delicate fingers like it had been nothing but smoke. The innocent action had caused a disruption among the pillar of lights. It’d been as if the touch had startled the flittering orbs causing them to one by one begin to pwoof and pwaaf away from existence. Cumulative gasps rose at the suddenness, but it wasn’t until one exclamation loudly rang out that the attention finally fell onto the source of said lightshow.

“Oh my— He’s ALIVE!?”

At the center of it all, a body with skin that was pale grey lay a sopping, wet mess on the wooden planks that made up the pier. Maybe they’d been so caught up in the spectacle that some had missed him, but as the orbs cleared did his visage become clearer for all to see. Green hair sprawled over his shoulder, his eye, and across the ground like slithering veins of jade; his vestments were a damp indigo and tied around his wrists were ribbons which had darkened into the color of wounds. He’d been floating, washed up by the torrents, and carried to the edges of Lyndon Port by the same oddities that had dispersed from his person.

Dead on arrival the more desensitized few had proclaimed: either another body surfacing from some crime or some fool magicked half to death for whichever reason. So it’d been a surprise when his visible eye slowly fluttered open, when he shifted and sat up and blinked languidly around at his surroundings. He was not a corpse in the least. Just a very groggy spirit by the name of Ilias.

A very groggy, very soggy spirit.

It took him a moment to come to, the sleepy haze gradually lifting and his gaze adjusting to the throng that surrounded him. Disorientation slapped him hard in the face, though he remained as perfectly stoic as ever. “And just where am I now…?” Ilias muttered. He could barely see between the shadows of those around him, but it was abundantly clear he was not in the forest anymore. The place reeked of fish and salt instead of the earthy scents of trees and soil he’d been accustomed to for a millennium. Not even the very ground he sat on carried with it that same pulse of magic as Ilyanor or Hoptus had.

He heaved something close to a frustrated sigh, tugging the white robe at his shoulder closer to himself as if the action would keep the prying eyes at bay. As out of place as he’d started, it felt like; much to his discomfort. So he attempted to stand and walk away from it all, maybe cut through the crowd and be on his way. But hours of inactivity had left him wobbly and weak, and he’d barely made it a few inches off the floor before the little strength he wielded gave out and grounded him once more.

Strange tingles and pains plagued his legs to the point of numbness, for it appeared that while jade-haired spirit had awoken his body had not. Yet his inexperience did not allow him to recognize this for what it was, and he simply squinted down at his legs like they were the cause of all misfortune.

The worst thing about mortal bodies, he’d come to learn, was how easily they could fall apart.

Last edited by Ilias on Fri May 13, 2022 2:27 am; edited 8 times in total

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Down by the Port | Wade Empty Re: Down by the Port | Wade

Post by Wade Madrox Thu Mar 17, 2022 5:08 am

I'm death, I come to take the soul

Down by the Port | Wade Fhjdhsg
**Leave the body and leave it cold**

"You might be wondering, what's a grim reaper doing out here in Lyndon port? Well! Lyndon Port happens to be full of all the fun, dangerous people that are always on the verge of meeting their hour of death based on their colorful life choices... but did they all have to smell like they all came out of Moby Dick?" Wade retorted in his high-pitched sardonic tone of voice with a crinkle of his nose while staring at no one in particular. The smell of a sushi restaurant or a Red Lobster back home was clearly not the same thing, in Wade's point of view. "What kind of whale gets named Moby Dick anyway?" Wade continued to go off on a tangent while voicing his unbridged thoughts aloud in his casual low tone of voice, chocolate brown eyes glimpsing at a man next to him with a hand cupping his chin in thought while he continued to wrack his brain for the answer. The man stammered in perplexion, both caught off guard by the sudden question and also bewildered as to what in Vyldermire was a Moby Dick. "Oh right, Moby Dick is a sperm whale! Thanks, Brain. Good call," The half-demon chirped in his sardonic tone of voice once again, praising himself with a content smile that reached his eyes and not at all paying attention to the man backing away from him with a weirded look. Of course, an author would give the name Moby Dick to a sperm whale. Classic phallic symbol. Clever author.

After shutting his eyes, the half-demon blended with the darkness until he was no longer seen by anyone. The grim reaper wanted to continue watching the arrival and departure of humans at the docks from the rooftop of a nearby building. If he'd spot anyone that was close to meeting their death, he'd shoot in several different areas with his spirit sniper rifle until their timely death, where their spirit could be released. From there, it was either sent off to Fleure'vir or reabsorbed for self-healing purposes.

“Oh my— He’s ALIVE!?”

With a flash of red eyes that almost seemed to materialize from the darkness, Wade peered searchingly for the one the voice spoke of down at the port and leaned forward with interest much like a vulture waiting with eager anticipation upon hearing the appealing promise of death. As he eyed the one that dripped out of the water, sporting a wet look with clothing that clung onto an attractive-looking body, something else seemed to perplex the grim reaper enough to cock a brow at the stranger with doubled fascination. Hm. A mesmerizing smirk curved one side of his lip as his gaze lingered on the dripping person with long, silky hair of jade green. For some reason, this person actually seemed to have a fixed time of death that he could see so clearly. The half-reaper demon was never able to know when someone would die until at least a day before, for more accurate results.  With the healing magic in this world, even knowing two days in advance could change someone's lifespan from two days to several months to years. Even more interesting was the sense of spirit energy that he felt from the emission of the orbs that poofed into the air. To say that this beautiful, silky green rarity was interesting was a grave understatement, excusing the pun that this author seems to enjoy adding when posting for someone that isn't her first, signature character. Just smile, do an smh, and scroll on, my dudes. Anyways, this was why Wade's attention was fully absorbed on the one that actually had a set time of death, taking note that he was also staring much like the other interesting humans that were noticing this beautiful gem that was fished out from the sea. He somehow wished he could apologize for staring at him - and just like that, it was romantic song time.

With a whirl of the black fur jacket he wore, the half-demon descended from the rooftop in a swift, fluid motion and set foot on the pavement in the shadows of the building. Wade next emerged from the shadows, humming the melody that was playing in his mind as he walked past the throngs of staring people and began singing as soon as he was within audible range for the beautiful green-haired person to hear his dedicated song that he sang with a low, serene tone of voice as he bent down with an extended hand to help the person stand on their feet again:  

"Pardon the way that I stare
There's nothin' else to compare
The sight of you leaves me weak
There are no words left to speak
But if you feel like I feel
Please let me know if it's real
You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you"

A smile slithered across the half-demon's face after he finished singing the last verse to the beautiful stranger. "And if that serenade isn't enough of a warm welcome, then allow me to be the first to welcome you to Lyndon Port, beautiful." As his fingers gently took the beautiful stranger's fingertips in his attempts to lift the person's hand to lightly press his lips on the back of the palm for a kiss, all the while his brown eyes lingered on the person's green eye that wasn't covered by their jade-green hair to ensure that such a gesture was allowed. Although he'd next lower the beautiful person's hand, his hand didn't quite want to let go of their soft fingertips, leaving it up to the beautiful stranger to be the one to let go first.  

"The name's Madrox. Wade Madrox." The half-eldritch introduced himself in his aloof, low-toned voice with a James Bond fashion. Hey, if it worked for James, then maybe some of that suaveness could rub off, too. "What's your name?" He asked softly in his low tone of voice as his brown eyes lazily trailed along the Moondance-esque ribbons tied at their wrists, mildly wondering if this person was perhaps half-Gaiyan or if this was merely part of a kink gone wrong - but who would willingly throw out someone as beautiful as this out to sea? Wade returned his chocolate-eyed gaze back on the jade-haired beauty, studying the breath-taking features with intrigue in the raise of his eyebrow as this person's time of death continued to glare at him. So many questions of interest formed in his mind in that moment, but the half-demon shrugged cooly instead, a sheepish smirk drawing on his lips, "I guess I'd wanna put a name to the face I'm gonna be thinkin' about for the rest of my night."  If only Wade could call that a pick-up line that he'd use on everyone, but it wasn't intended to sound like one, if anyone who knew him could believe it or not. This grim reaper truly was going to think of the one that seemed to be different from the norm, far too delighted to see what exactly this person would do with a limited life that was so specified, so finite. It was almost a shame someone so beautiful had a set time of death like this, but death was just part of the balance of life.      

WC: 1228 words

Wade Madrox
Wade Madrox

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Down by the Port | Wade Empty Re: Down by the Port | Wade

Post by Ilias Sat Apr 30, 2022 10:46 pm

spirit of my silence i hear you, singing for the dead
In those few minutes he felt quite cold, not just from being singled out by onlookers and his inability to stand but from a particular breeze that chilled his body. He was drowsy still, out of it for the countless hours he’d spend immobile, but he could at least try to lighten the weight of the drenched clothing before it started to really chill him to the bone.

He’d taken off his gloves, stuffed them in his satchel, and was just about to undo the delicate emerald pin tying the robe on his shoulder when the crowd stirred once more. A few choice lines were thrown about, among them a loud, “Oi, who’s this asshole!?” and a quieter, but audibly nervous, “H-hey, did you guys see where he came from?” breaking through the sea of gawkers.

For a moment Ilias fretted they might be speaking of him, but such worries were thrown right back into the ocean he was fished from when a melodious tune absorbed his attention, no doubt the cause of the crowd’s newfound target, and he found himself peering up at a man who neared.

“What… are you…?” the question died on the tip his tongue.

Before him stood a stranger clad in dark clothing, with hair he could liken to obsidian under the dim lights of the night and eyes the color of earth after rain. The stranger seemed young, unblemished by time, and full of weirdly confident airs exalting his presence. He was not unattractive in the least. But it was the allure of his voice which drove the Spirit to awed silence, lips parting the slightest as he listened.

Without thinking, Ilias leaned forward with interest and tentatively reached for the offered help before finding his hand stolen away into a kiss, all the while staring into those prodding brown eyes with a slightly bewildered expression, his hand never leaving the other's. He’d even been called beautiful. "Uhm—"

Beautiful, of all things.

Really, he was at a loss for words. This stranger had turned into something out of the countless books his imagination had poured over. He witnessed a prince, a gentleman offering aid to his raggedy self. Truly, it was an occurrence which amounted to a huge first in his millenniums-old existence. Possibly a meaningless gesture, but it was such a first that his reaction was to fumble with the emerald pin at his chest (as he’d been trying to remove it before) and bow his head away timidly, only to absentmindedly unhook the darn little thing. It fell to the ground with a clack!, the sound causing him to jump slightly and hold on to the offered hand a little tighter.

A light fluster had fluttered its way into the Gaiyan at having his appearance acknowledged. Surely he couldn’t be anywhere near beautiful, Ilias thought, when he looked and felt like a wet clump of paper.

“Wade Madrox,” llias repeated after him softly, allowing the charming stranger’s alluring voice to pull him out of his embarrassed bout. He would commit the name to memory, further lacing his fingers with the ravenette’s and allowed himself to be pulled to a stand. A little too fast, maybe, for his still half-asleep body to fully register. Although the cramps had subsided, he was still weak for some reason. “It’s a pleasure to meet you-” he began, before having to catch himself on the other’s chest, lightly clutching the fabric of his coat to steady himself.

The robe gave away from Ilias’s shoulder and into the crook of his own arm a soaked heap.

Perhaps it was their close proximity which inspired a modicum of stillness in the following seconds, an odd wave of alarm coursing through his being in abnormal waves. There was something off about this man, that much he could sense. And natural instinct dictated he leave and save himself any trouble but, as he peeked up at Wade with curious intent, he couldn’t restrain himself from regarding the man’s charm with a small, but sheepish smile of his own when their eyes met.

Why would he leave someone who not only helped him but also continued to flatter him so? He supposed he’d made an impression on this stranger... or so Ilias naively thought.

“My name is Ilias,” he said in a small voice, “Belvedere Remus. And… I suppose… I would find it hard not to think of you as well.” The admittance came with a bit of pondering, a bit of worry, sewn into his brow despite his content demeanor. For a creature who’d never been afforded much emotion, honesty came naturally and innocent. So he meant it: Ilias wouldn’t soon forget this even if their meeting were brief. “Your welcome has been more than warm. It was very… flattering. Thank you.”

It was then that self-awareness came back full swing when a drop of water slid down his face and he shivered. “Ah,” he seemed to almost perk back to reality. “Forgive me, you have made me forget myself— I wouldn’t want to make you wet as well. You would be terribly cold for the rest of the night and…” Yet there was no attempt to move away from his part, no untwining hands or letting go of his coat. In fact, his attention seemed to slowly slip to the crowds, the slightly worried furrow to his brow deepening as the smile fell to something more neutral. They were still staring— uncomfortably so. And he continued, quieter still, “…and it seems we’ve been shined a spotlight.”

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