[Kleora].Enter Excessum

[acro.[Nymph]]

ooc:// Rough sketch of Kleora

The living will destroy me[/color][/size]

The docks were quiet, save the ghostly creaks and lapping of dark waves against rotting hulls. If not for the heavy mist, the night would be warm, and the moon would have blanketed the area in a silvery light. But in fact the air was chilled, and vision was distorted by the dense fog. A shadow danced playfully at the edge of the Shipyards, twirling and weaving in and out of the nearby trees. The figure was very nearly silent, leaving behind only gentle wisps of air and scuffs against the earth. Through the heavy mist, a pair of startling green eyes flickered in and out of existence, sparkling impishly. The Ghost Shipyards was no safe place to wander idly about, but for a Necromancer, it was deliciously welcoming.

The dying will leave me

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Kleora pranced onto the scene, pivoting about as more distinct patches of mist swirled around her slender frame. She beamed, her pale skin and strikingly white hair an even match with the surrounding fog. Her whip was secured around her waist, the tapered end slithering around her shoulder where she held onto it lovingly with one hand. The Necromancer's neurotic dance brought her to the end of one of the slippery, rotting docks, where she froze just as the toes of her boots skid past the edge of the last plank. Without hindrance, she leaned out over the water, tilting her head at her own distorted reflection. Humming thoughtfully, she unraveled her whip and lashed, almost gently, at the water's surface.

"Okay," she hummed, straightening. "Time to go." With a wave of her left hand, the embodiments of mist that had been trailing along behind her dispersed into the fog. Resecuring her weapon, Kleora put her hands on her hips and began to pace around the Shipyards, wondering how she was supposed to get to this Academy she'd heard so little about.

But the dead
Will always love me

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[Ladd Russo of the Russo Family]

The Lady went with him wherever he did go, the Old Hag, the Untouched Maiden, to whom he had given a part of his soul. The rest belonged to a higher, cleaner hand, or so it was said, but most of his people forgot this unless their eyes happened upon old, stained script, for the Lady was a jealous one. His footsteps did not exist in the misty waters, and of course no one saw hers.

Twilight Moon Academy was rarely one to judge methods. Rather they moved to match students with teachers that could compliment them, strengthen them. They had told him that this girl embraced Death, and he found that natural. After all, he would embrace the Lady himself if he could, but women always found it easier in the long run. In the thick fog of the rotting shipyards, a bone-white oval appeared. Two gaping, shadowy holes were its eyes, from which a dark, chipping substance smeared down into a carved smile of sharp teeth. A mask, on a tall frame covered by some thin, reed-sewn armor and dark cloth. His hair was shoulder length, as white as hers and very fine.

With little effort he climbed to join her on the dock, as from the water he had come.

"Kleora," he said, a voice quiet and thick with a strange accent, one that did not lessen its seriousness. "You have arrived, and this is your first accomplishment. Many more will be expected of you. Welcome to Twilight Moon Academy."

[acro.[Nymph]]

At the mention of her name, the mist around Kleora seemed to swirl about her frame, almost as if pushing her to turn and face the stranger. She followed the movements excitedly, acidic eyes narrowing onto the masked figure. Her head tilted curiously to the left and she idly began to tug on the tapered end of her weapon. She was not wary of this man- she wasn't one to really be wary of much of anything. She could handle danger when danger was blatantly present, but until then Kleora was ambivalent toward almost all situations. When one is raised surrounded by death and all manner of frightening things, one finds it difficult to feel the appropriate amount of fear.

Grinning impishly, the Necromancer stepped forward, her boots gripping the damp planks with ease until mere feet separated the two beings. "You know my name," she remarked, voice light and pleasant, carrying with it an undertone of gratitude. Absently, she paced to the edge of the dock where the man had come from, leaning far out and peering down into the dark water. Briefly, she wondered who else was down there; who else she could call up. But the thought was pushed aside and she turned to once again face the stranger with a smile. "Am I to know yours?"

[Ladd Russo of the Russo Family]

He looked down at her through the wide holes in the mask, flat eyes of a pale indigo, as washed out as the rest of him. There was murder there, but its presence was a distant touch without direction.

"I am Devshivavihsved, and I am to be your Master Teacher. You will meet many along your road here that will direct and strengthen you, but I am the only one that will follow you along it. For a time." His gaze mimicked hers in shifting to the water. "A town once lived in the waterchased valley below you. They died because of their pride and corruption, and the remnants were devoured by the flood that followed. Many ghosts still live at the bottom, I am told. More benign than the demons that skip the surface." He laughed once, a hollow sound.

[acro.[Nymph]]

Kleora blinked curiously, chewing over the information she had just been offered. A whole town, demolished by their own wrongdoings... a family, destroyed because of the darkness within their hearts. The Necromancer's sharp gaze fell onto the water once again, expression far off and thoughtful. Three years ago she had left a life behind, forced away by outside power. Now, tonight, something new was beginning. An opportunity, a moment in time- a second chance. Gently, quietly, a string of iridescent mist drifted toward the brooding individual, passing lightly over her pale cheek like a caress. Kleora closed her eyes, inhaled softly, and smiled. And then, all at once, she broke from her detached state and performed a graceful twirl, unraveling her weapon as she did so, halting to face Devshivavihsved with the tapered end of her weapon hanging limply over the dock's edge and kissing the water's chilled surface.

"You're quite the interesting soul," Kleora stated matter-of-factly, eyes very nearly emanating their own glow. Of course, she didn't mean soul in the exact, literal sense- that was simply how she referred to individuals. It's how she connected. "So, Devshivavihsved," she began, repeating back the odd being's exotic name without hindrance. "Is it true that the people here will help me to be stronger?"

[Ladd Russo of the Russo Family]

An interesting soul? The people he encountered thought him either dull or frightening, which one depending on how confident they were in their ability of survival. That she thought him interesting spoke of herself. Did that mean she hovered on the line of competence, or was she somewhere else altogether? Strange.

"It is truth," responded. "It said that you were a necromancer, a witch that can speak to the dead. And they listen?" He had never encountered such a thing. "What is it that they say?"

In his years, Death was a lifestyle and a destination, for he was of the Border Guard. Death was everywhere, and it was likely that any spot had seen at least one dead man or beast across it. That was fact. To be able to see this, though, to speak with them, it seemed something that might drive a man mad. Though women were always closer to Death. Also fact. Could it be that she would guide someone out of their heartbeat and then talk with them just as before?

[acro.[Nymph]]

Kleora's smile became softer, though no less genuine, and her eyes sparkled through the fog. It had been her unusual way of interacting with the dead that had earned her her parents' disappointment and partial abandonment. She didn't turn out the way she was supposed to- the way they wanted her to be. Because of this estrangement, her love for all things dead only increased, pushing her farther and farther away, until...

"Yes," she remarked, voice almost wistful. "I speak, and they listen. Often, listening is the only thing they can do, but, sometimes..." Yes, sometimes. Usually, their being there is enough. A nonjudgmental ear, another presence to ease away the feeling of solitude- a being who can neither disown or abandon her. She gives them life, if only for a time, and, in thanks, they offer their love. Because, sometimes, they would simply like to be spoken to, even if they cannot respond. "Sometimes, I hear them whisper," Kleora began a bit more quietly, eyes peering far off into the mist. "And it's so gentle, and so... so sad..." A shadow fell over her eyes. "I almost can't stand to let them go again."

[Ladd Russo of the Russo Family]

"Court Death too freely, and you will join those whispering pasts," he responded, but not unkindly. Still, it was a good omen, he might think. "I think you may find the halls of this school to be a cacaphony of warmth and sound, in comparison. There will still be places where you might hear the dead freely, no matter what your company." His head turned, peering out over the restless, twitching waters of the shipyard, gray and dark before fog-swallowed.

"Witches were sometimes born in my country, but it was few of us that had a gifting of that level. My power in unseen things is barely enough to be considered present." He could make light in darkness, willow wisps, or will-of-the-wisp as some prefered. Invaders soon found the folly of trying to take the marsh by night, thinking to find towns to plunder but instead finding nightmares beyond their ability to anticipate. "I told you that many more tasks would be expected of you. Now you must cross the lake, using whatever you do have. The Academy stands on the other side."

[acro.[Nymph]]

Kleora blinked and tilted her head curiously to one side. She'd never been issued a warning like that before, and she didn't quite understand its relevance or likelihood. Her risen would never turn on her like people would, so the only danger on her life came from those who were still living. True, there were malignant beings who roamed the world as vicious entities, but they weren't too much of an issue so long as they are not granted freedom. Respectfully, Kleora did not argue, instead moving on to the task at hand. Her eyes drifted across the lake, struggling to find the other side and failing. Her expressin became hard and thoughtful, now determined to complete the task she'd been assigned. The Necromancer paced to the very end of the dock, leaning precariously out over the murky water still attempting to find the other side. Frustrated, her whip cracked against the lake, sending up a spray of cold droplets. She began to murmur, voice dropping distinctly.

"Date vident quae videtis...[/color]" Her body became still, and the emerald that coated her eyes began to swirl slowly and unnaturally, until her pupils had been consumed by the color. Kleora's vision became distorted and surreal, blurring like the colors in a dream. Only, there wasn't much color to speak of. Far across the lake, mist gathered and began to drift along the shoreline. Kleora's mouth became a hard line and she closed her eyes. "Grata dimitto.[/color]" The Necromancer's vision returned, and the mist at the opposing shoreline dispersed. Kleora had underestimated how large the lake really was. Expression still deeply thoughtful, she turned to look over her shoulder at Devshivavihsved.

"What if I can't make it across?"

* Let me see what you see...

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** I dismiss with gratitude.[/size][/color][/right]

[Ladd Russo of the Russo Family]

"Speak not to me of failure," he replied simply. "There is a way, if your powers cannot extend that far, though this is an exercise to test you. Some students ride the water as though it were ice, and others still can fly through the air. Some take a boat, though there is danger in that as well. There is danger to everything."

Casually he broke off a splinter the size of his arm from the dock edge, shifting it in his hands. Apparently, anything could be a weapon.

[acro.[Nymph]]

Kleora's skin prickled indignantly and she lashed her whip off to the side, the sharp movement creating a hissing sound in the air. She wasn't one to accept failure so easily. Or one to heed danger, despite her deep-seeded fear of dying. Her question had not been a sign of defeat, just a curious inquiry. Huffing quietly, the Necromancer once again turned away from Devshivavihsved. Her mind raced. The dead weren't really adept at floating, and souls weren't particularly buoyant. She could attempt a temporary soul detachment on herself, but getting her physical self across the lake would be far too much of a struggle. The spell would break long before she reached the other side. She could swim... Kleora's eyes fell to the murky depths. There was no telling what manner of hungry, malicious beings swam beneath that deceitfully calm surface. She quickly discarded that particular idea. However, that idea allowed the stemming of another.

In one fluid motion, Kleora's whip had raveled itself around one of the dock's end posts and the Necromancer in question had swung her body out over the shadowy lake. She dug her heels into the damp wood and extended her weapon-wielding arm until her free hand could easily lay flat against the cold, murky surface. Positioned so precariously, Kleora seemed no less comfortable than if she were crouched in a field of daisies. A sideways field of daisies. Grinning, she closed her eyes.

"Resurgere...[/color]" Her voice had again taken on a much lower, darker undertone, and small ripples raced away from her splayed fingers. "Voco te... vaca et dirige me.[/color]" The arm currently supporting all of Kleora's weight visibly began to tremble, as though all at once exhaustion had taken a toll on her body. "Resurgere... resurgere...[/color]" She continued, voice sounding more strained with each word. The ripples became small waves, outlined by a light green aura. The light could be seen slithering far down into the water until the darkness consumed it. Kleora continued to repeat her mantra.

Somewhere far below the docks, embedded in the lake's bottom, the dark sands and mud began to stir. Two strikingly green orbs broke through the darkness and slowly began a long ascent to the lake's surface, picking up speed as they went along. Up above, Kleora struggled to maintain focus, blocking out the pain that wracked her limbs and the burning in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes had taken on a gentle glow, and her ghostly skin had turned cold. Just as her voice trailed off into silence and her finger tips dipped limply beneath the water's surface, the two orbs from the lake bottom became visible, heading for the dry world at an unsettling speed. Through the strain, Kleora smiled.

Just as gaping jaws broke the surface where Kleora's hand had been a mere instant before, the Necromancer kicked from the post and flipped easily back onto the rotting planks, joining the world of upright. Cold water sprayed the end of the dock, and Kleora relished in the refreshing sensation. A decrepit serpent, freshly vanquished with rotting flesh still clinging partially to its great, skeletal frame, writhed and lashed about in the water, its glowing eyes matching Kleora's evenly. Grinning with tired eyes, Kleora stepped forward and extended her hand. The monster snapped at it experimentally once or twice, but calmed significantly when it found the Necromancer's gaze. Entranced, the beast dipped its head until Kleora's fingers could trace up the middle of its slime-coated skull and come to rest.

"Hello," she murmured, voice carrying an unusual tone of compassion. Without hesitation, Kleora stepped down from the dock onto the serpent's back, in the crook where its neck rose up to keep its head out of the water. Utterly drained, she leaned heavily against its curving spine, looking back to smile tiredly Devshivavihsved and gesture toward the winding back of the serpent. "He'll take us there," she remarked, gently stroking a length of the monster's rotting neck, noting some deep gashes that had probably been the end to its life. Gashes made from much angrier jaws.

* Rise again... I call for you... devote yourself, and guide me. Rise again... rise again...

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[Ladd Russo of the Russo Family]

"That is something of amazement," he commented. "You are well? I am not surprised that something like this would exhaust you." What she could do was beyond amazement, far past it. This creature was dead. Life had left it, something he had always thought to be more permanent than stone or sky. Yet she gave it consciousness again for a small time. He climbed onto it, noting her affection toward it. It was a bit worrying. He did not think that the dead would kill more than the fact that if she immersed herself too deeply among them, she might simply will to stop living. They all left, but it was not their place to dive.

"Let us go across, then. A creature this big is not likely to attract undue aggression, if we stay toward the surface." He watched her, faded indigo eyes discerning, surprised. "What tongue do you speak? Is it of your land?"

[acro.[Nymph]]

Closing her eyes almost completely, Kleora leaned back against the serpent's raised neck, smiling in amusement as it hissed quietly at Devshivavihsved as he boarded its back. Without another sound, the beast began a gentle, smooth glide across the water's surface, eyes pulsating with light as Kleora's faded to a duller throb. Sighing quietly, feeling energy drain from her body like water through sand, the Necromancer focused mostly on keeping the mammoth snake "alive" while still trying to answer Devshivavihsved's questions.

"I... I'll regain my energy," she remarked, far too proud to admit to her true level of exhaustion. She really hoped there wouldn't be much more of a need for her abilities for the rest of this trek. Or, at the very least, if the situation was dire, not until they had reached the other shore so she could release the serpent. Closing her eyes completely, Kleora let her mind wander back, going through all those years of tedious studying and memorization. Though she'd had some help at first, after her abandonment Kleora was responsible for teaching herself the intricacies of the language for incantations.

"The language is a very ancient, Necromancer-variation of the more common Latin." The roots were all the same, but the way in which they were spoken... that is what made all of the difference in the world. Sighing quietly, Kleora slid down until she was sitting on the snake's decaying back, a number of slick scales falling away as she brushed past. They fell into the water and immediately sank to the bottom. She let her finger tips trail along the water's surface as the serpent devotedly propelled onward, powerful tail weaving elegantly back and forth just beneath the water; the movement was hardly enough to disturb the passengers.

"What will be expected of me once we arrive?" Kleora chimed, voice a bit idle and detached. Her mind was racing, but she did her best to give the present situation and company an appropriate amount of attention.

[Ladd Russo of the Russo Family]

Devshivihsved bowed in head in thanks for her information and then replied in turn. "You will attend classes. Teachers will show you the ways of fighting, of unseen powers, of many things. You have arrived during the wane time, when most students are away for the summer, but there are still some here. At points in time, you will be expected to work with them. More likely than classes, during the wane you will most probably be set out on missions with them with teachers as supervisors to heighten your ability. I in particular will attempt to raise your skill in Necromancy--" The word was obviously strange to him, and he said it strangely. "--when you are with me."

They glided over what now appeared to be a dark, neverending sea, fog packing them in from all sides. As of yet, there was no sign of trouble.

[acro.[Nymph]]

Kleora sighed quietly, contently, and let her mind relax as much as possible for the current situation. Abruptly, however, she seemed to stir into uneasiness and her eyes narrowed onto Devshivavihsved. The serpent groaned low in its chest cavity, sensing her tension. "Please, tell me..." she began, voice steady despite her obviously anxious demeanor. "How easy would it be for outsiders to locate and enter the grounds of the Academy?"

Her mind raced back to the struggles she and her older brother had fled from. Visions of chaos and fear. Where the true root of her concern stemmed from, however, was undisclosed, even in her own thoughts. Kleora's eyes pulsed weakly with that misty green aura, mimicking those of the serpent, and remained fixated on Devshivavihsved.


ooc://Really sorry about what happened! I'd love to continue with this.