forum The Secrets of Emberhaven // reboot? // oxo // closed

Started July 16, 2020 by @PaperHats business

tune

_{I just really loved this idea and wanna try it out again :>}

Ravenspire, a gorgeous little town known for its encapsulating architecture and ancient legends. Located on the quiet shores of Emberhaven, it looks like a majestic painting. The people are wonderful and the lush forests around the town bustle with wildlife.
Although, the city cannot be that perfect, hmm? Nothing can.
You see, I myself am a fan of mystery. Which is why I decided to write these journals. These… tales in which I will be conveying to you the underlying secrets of Ravenspire, and even Emberhaven itself!
Sound intriguing? I know.
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mathias Taumoor Oskig. Or, just Oskig. I’m an owlfolk from the far off land of Hivenpost, on the far eastern edge of Kahari’s Landing. But, enough names. I assure you I’ll get to the point.
I’m a writer. Musician. Journalist. Adventurer. I’m looking for a partner to uncover these ghastly secrets.
If you’re interested, meet me at the abandoned lodge just west of Ravenspire. Left of the river but right of the marked path.
That is where the journey begins.
So, fellow adventurer…

Care to join me?

That’s the basic storyline! This whole thing is barely fleshed out, so don’t be afraid to bring your creativity! This rp is as much yours as it is mine :)

Rules:

• No controlling the other’s character, through actions, dialogue, etc.
• Keep swearing to a minimum, but if it’s appropriate, go right ahead.
• Fantasy races are alright, even if it’s creative! The more unusual, the better!
• Can be a romance if you’d like
• Have fun! It may sound like a serious plot (somewhat) but toy with it. However, make sure to be serious when the situation requires it.

Ask to join and I’ll possibly ask for a writing sample if I haven’t rped with you before, but I’m likely to say yes. I’ll post the template once you’re accepted :)

Hey! I'm interested?♡

Alrighty then welcome aboard! Here’s the temp:

(Any of the unmarked sections you can leave tbd!)

^Full Name:
Aliases: (What others call them)
^Age:
^Race:
Occupation(s)/Job(s):
^Physical Desc: (Links okay, but please describe them too. Shorter desc if links are provided, but otherwise please be semi-thorough)
Apparel/Gear:
^Personality:
^Habits/Mannerisms:
^Hobbies:
Backstory:

Of course, my character is going to be the one speaking, so here he is:

^Full Name: Mathias Taumoor Oskig
Aliases: Os / Oskig / “The One Who Wanders”
^Age: 25
^Race: Owlfolk
Quick Race Background: The owlfolk are generally considered the direct “children of Kahari,” devoting much of their time to serving her in all her true splendor. Kahari is the goddess of the night sky and duel moons, reigning in the violent tides at Kahari’s Landing. The owlfolk normally build houses atop trees, and if not, they have large baseboards that keep them elevated. Truly for aesthetic purposes, because the owlfolk lost the ability to fly long ago. It’s purely for the feeling of being among the trees.
Occupation(s)/Job(s): Adventurer / Journalist / Musician
^Physical Desc: Quite handsome-looking for an owlfolk. He has a pristine navy crest with two uniform feather protrusions on either side, like that of an elegant Bubo owl. His markings, on the other hand, are quite different. Instead of the black splotchy markings, he has uniform dark blue feathering, with white down around his face. His eyes are a beautiful deep umber, however the left one is slightly clouded.
His body is much different than that of a normal owl. Feathers coat up to the tips of his talons on both “hands” and “feet.” His legs are like those of a bird as well, elevated ankles, however they are lower than most and evolved to help them walk. No wings, however the owlfolk tend to have longer back feathers curling down into a tail that pokes out from under the backs of their shirts. Oskig’s does, the navy blue fading to a shimmering black.
Apparel/Gear: Many clothes tailored to fit owlfolk and owlfolk only. Boots and arm bands especially, fitting the fingers perfectly but letting the tips of the talons peek though. It can be uncomfortable otherwise. He normally wears just other standard garb, such as a tunic and greaves. He tends to carry packs around his waist as well as a lute across his back. He keeps multiple coal pencils in the packs as well as various scrolls and sheets of music. He carries a rapier by his side, but rarely has reason to use it.
^Personality: Can be quite the romantic person. He lives for adventure and will likely step head-on into danger, because it “poses a wonderful challenge, no?” He loves the thrill of mystery, but many mistake him as crazy or reckless. In reality, that’s exactly what he is.
^Habits/Mannerisms: He always carries himself high and speaks eloquently for his time. Instead of walking he sort of saunters or strides, like he is above whomever he comes across. However, when he speaks, the target feels just as empowered as he, for his deep voice is trustworthy, sweet, and melodic.
^Hobbies: Playing the lute / writing / exploring / inspiring others
Backstory: Abandoned at a young age to live with a family friend, Oskig learned to be independent early on. He never learned the truth behind his parents disappearance, and many people in his home town don’t seem to recall the situation either. Oskig explored much of his old continent Hivenpost, but found Emberhaven much more intriguing, and set off. With eight years of living on the continent under his belt, he decided to dig deeper into it’s secretive past.

^Full Name: Vienna (last name unknown)
Aliases: Vienna
^Age: 23
^Race: Cast out angel or fairy (not the typical small fairy.)

Occupation(s)/Job(s): blacksmith
^Physical Desc:
Here’s a smol pinterest board i have for her
https://pin.it/75D6us0
She stands rather tall at 5’10, looking as however she acts. If shes happy and energetic, she looks it. If shes mad in any sort of way, she looks hella pissed.
Vienna has dark defined and nicely shaped eyebrows, adding to the multitude of facial expressions she has. She has big, round eyes, a mix between an evergreen and a marbled grey. Long, full black eyelashes and a natural blush. Her skin is a rosy pale, as if shes indoors most of the time. Half of it is due to her race and the other half…well because she is indoors a good amount. Her smile is brightening and leaves anyone in a naturally better mood than they were in before. Her lips have a naturally pink hue to them, and you’ll almost never find her without gloss on them.
Vienna has a good wingspan, about two times the size of her arms, as all angels wing sizes vary. Hers are a bit smaller than others. They were white, but in the fall a good amount of her wings were burnt off, the ash leaving black inked to the tips of her feathers. Staining them and marking her physically unclean.
She has a decent jawline and an hourglass figure more on the petite side. Shes stronger than she looks though, so dont let her fool you.
On each of her fingers, she has small black writing in a language only angels could read. Their more a warning signal to other angels than anything. One gets them if cast out of heaven.
On her back, burn marks and whipping scars, but nowhere else. She doesn’t care to show her back, as the dresses she liked to wear has a rather open back.
Vienna has long, raven black hair thats naturally straight but she loves to curl it and put it up. When its laid down, it will go down to the bottom of her rib cage, with a trim every now and again to keep it healthy.

Apparel/Gear:
Usually a dress when shes just out and about doin her thing, but when shes working or traveling shell wear her own handmade clothes. Vienna loves to make her own clothes, usually really flowy cute tops and tighter form fitting pants.
For any type of fighting, if shes prepared, she’ll wear any gear fitted. She always has tools by her side on a thick leather belt when shes not wearing a dress. Dark brown leather gloves and a few knives on her at all times.

^Personality:
Very motherly like, caring and positive. She has a sort of reassurance about her and makes everyone around her feel easy. Never really hostile (until later in my story lol)
Her younger years, (like in her 20s and below) shes very playful, mischievous and kind. Never wanting to hurt a soul. Its not apparent shes gone through a lot in her past. To an unknowing person, one would think shes lived a perfect life. An angel at one point, but its not all miracles and smiles to say the least. Angels have gone through wars upon wars.
But she never showed it and she strives to keep that streak as long as possible. Upon pressing enough, shes rather easy to open up if you’ve earned her trust.

^Habits/Mannerisms:
When shes happy, or preoccupied with something (like blacksmithing or healing someone) she’ll sing. Shes very fidgety, always having to do something with her hands. Just very energetic altogether

^Hobbies:
Making small trinkets, weapons. (She spent a lot of her time down on earth with a family of blacksmiths.

Backstory:
Angel rejected from heaven, others call her a fairy. Or a fallen angel as you will. She herself calls herself a fairy if asked, as an angel isn’t taken well at most places.
When she fell, her wings were tainted and wont work like they did. She lived with a family of blacksmiths for a group of royals. She had to be hidden for the time she worked for the royals, as they wanted her to themselves. For…well more than her powers and her blacksmithing skills.
The royals kingdom was infiltrated and burned out from the inside Literally and figuratively.
Most of the royals were killed, and the ones who were were able to flee. Vienna managed to escape, but once she got out, she came to find out the towns been burned to ash and her “family” had either fled, or burned to death.
She gave up and fled, and now shes basically on the run, not knowing what to do or where to go, trying to find anyone she can along the way.

The gentle padding of the leather boots on the newly fallen pine needles was nothing compared to the quite loud chirps of the birds. They were happy today, whistling out calm and rhythmic melodies, the sweet sounds beautifully intertwined with the babbling river.
Oskig took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them once more to keep his sight on the faulty trail before him. An outcropping was prominent along the left side, like another trail broke off down, following the sounds of the quite loud water. He stepped gracefully down it, a smile upon his face as the cold air grasped the skin beneath his feathers. However, the morning cold was always enjoyable for him. For the heat of the sun was never a thing he liked, but the light it brought was certainly beautiful.
Slowly he made his way to the shore, carefully walking across a thin log to the other side. Thankfully, his talons were perfect for the feat, the claws sinking into the damp wood and providing ample balance.
He swiftly bounded from the log, the beautiful spring greens of the forest complimenting the dark sienna lodge laid before him. The door had fallen from its hinges years ago, leaving quite the large gap to walk through. Not only that, half of the house’s elevation was thrown, the base of it deteriorating greatly on one side. It was at a mean tilt, but gave many animals shelter. A small bird had a nest overhead in the leaning ceiling boards, as well as a few squirrels rummaging through an abandoned bookshelf. The books were still there, some looking actually newer than most. But this was nothing new to Oskig— for those books were ones he either brought or rehabilitated. He liked books about as much as he loved this house, and the combination was beautifully perfect. He had spent much time here.
Sitting down among the eroded chair he had built himself from torn ragged fabric and a few boards, he took the lute from his back and began strumming. An ear for music, and possibly the most exquisite one— an owl’s ear is remarkable for hearing tunes— helped him pick up the surrounding birds’ melody, and he continued to strum a sweet song for his friends among the treetops. The squirrels, however, payed no mind, going back to their business as usual.
As he strummed, he watched the bird overhead in the damp rafters.
“Beautiful day, is it not?” he asked joyfully, his voice almost juvenile. “I wonder if any adventurers have received my note. Do you believe so?”
Just as he had expected, the bird ceased to reply. However that did not dim his spirits whatsoever, as he closed his eyes once more and whistled along to his own tune.

(Your writing never ceases to amaze me gosh lol)

The repetitive, hot metal clanking rang loud in the ears of anyone around Vienna and her blacksmithing shop. Holding the red hot blade to the metal table and whacking it with a huge hammer before setting it down, blowing off the ash and chips of steel from the Damascus blade, she smiled confidently. This is the third blade shes made today. For a smaller customer that seemed to be just visiting. She had paid a good amount for these, Vienna sure hoped she would like them.
Dipping the dagger into a tube of water, steam blowing up against her goggles and pulling it out. To her it was perfect. No curves, cracks, dents or chips. How a blade should be.
The smooth leather gloves rubbed against the side of her thumb as she held it up, looking at it horizontally from the handle.
She set it down and went to the other blades she had made today, preparing the handles, picking up a small block of wood, dusting it off and sitting down on her tree stump of a stool, letting her wings relax as she carved the block into the shape of a blade handle, measuring it to her own hand before making huge adjustments.
The quiet place secluded from everyone else up on a hill. A wooden shack near the cludder of thick dark oak trees. Thats where she kept…well what she would like to call it, her “Forge”
Her actual house was more like a hobbit hole than anything. She lived on the hill, so of course she had taken her time to make what began as a small hole in the ground, her home. With help from the townsfolk of course.
Once she had finished carving the three blocks of wood, nailing them into the blades small metal handle, tightening it and fitting it, she smiled at her work.
Setting down the blade and Standing, stretching out her black ash stained wings, but not much as they were far too big to not hit anything and knock it over.

Deciding to take a stroll down town to the library, she slinked into her small house and got cleaned up, changing into a white dress, flowing down to just barely sweep along the striped ebony wood of her floor.
Walking along the cobblestone path down to the busy town, the girl pulled her raven black hair out of her ponytail. Letting it fall down to her hips, dancing along her back with everyone of her movements.
The bright smile of the young winged girl made anyone she passed in a good mood. Most of the men trying to flirt with her, old and young, the ladies carrying the baskets gave her compliments and others sneered.
“Oh Miss Vienna! Have you come for another book?” The fragile little lady in the library asked.
“Why Yes i have actually! I’m looking for….more adventure” she chuckled. Her voice as soft as the petals of a rose. She spoke with politeness, cheer and made sure she didn’t seem anything but kind.
“Ah I’m not surprised!” The lady said before stepping out. She was only about to Vienna’s hips, short as can be.
Vienna’s green eyes gazed around the library, pixies of all sorts flying everywhere, leaving golden dust on any book they flew by.
“I would have one of the pixies help you, but you’re a special one” she winked at her with an old smile. Wrinkles lining every crevice of her face.
“Now, I’m far too old for any adventure of my own” she laughed, shakily.
“Well you can look on this shelf. The greatest adventures are placed here” she says, clasping her hands shakily together and returning to her desk up front.
“Thank you miss Hardachre.” She says before grabbing a darker book, blowing away the golden pixie dust and reading the title of the hard leather book.
“The Secrets of Emberhaven”
Opening the book, she read the introduction.
*“ Ravenspire, a gorgeous little town known for its encapsulating architecture and ancient legends. Located on the quiet shores of Emberhaven, it looks like a majestic painting. The people are wonderful and the lush forests around the town bustle with wildlife.
Although, the city cannot be that perfect, hmm? Nothing can.
You see, I myself am a fan of mystery. Which is why I decided to write these journals. These… tales in which I will be conveying to you the underlying secrets of Ravenspire, and even Emberhaven itself!
Sound intriguing? I know.
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mathias Taumoor Oskig. Or, just Oskig. I’m an owlfolk from the far off land of Hivenpost, on the far eastern edge of Kahari’s Landing. But, enough names. I assure you I’ll get to the point.
I’m a writer. Musician. Journalist. Adventurer. I’m looking for a partner to uncover these ghastly secrets.
If you’re interested, meet me at the abandoned lodge just west of Ravenspire. Left of the river but right of the marked path.
That is where the journey begins.
So, fellow adventurer…

Care to join me?”*

Flipping the page, is was nothing but the yellow whitish color of the page. Purely blank as if the story was to be written by her. To finish the book.

(I hope you dont mind that i made the note a book that he placed? If not, then i can totally change it!!)

(Oh my god no that’s so freaking cool I love that idea!!! Also thanks so much, and right back at you! You’re always so fun to write with :)

(That makes me so happy! And thank goodness! I was worried you wouldnt lol. I’m glad you like it! I thought it’d be cool but i didn’t know)

With the passionate whistling and picking of his stringed instrument, Oskig had drifted off into one of his well-known imaginative fantasies. He got lost entirely in the music, the birds just adding to his ever-changing melody.

A lute hadn’t been his first choice, however the shrill sound of the reverberating strings made him smile nonetheless. He had always been a fan of the strings— however, wanting a harp or even ocarina before the lute. Though, the lute was the only thing he could find in the small music outpost at the market in Ak’ta, the large city miles north of Ravenspire. He hadn’t taken the trip in a long time, since he hopped the wagon to Ravenspire during the last winter solstice. He had spent roughly a year in the dregs of Ak’ta, although with a high city such as that, the dregs were parts even the middlefolk dreamed of. Knowing the owner of a local inn, Oskig had no trouble staying there despite the expenses. In addition to knowing the inn and tavern keeper, he knew of the local musician, who offered the lute at a low price. Unable to afford the others he had his sienna eyes fixed on, he took the lute.

The same one he held in his talons, strumming with expertise. He wasn’t opposed to the idea in the first place, although a harp seemed much easier to play with claws such as his. Sometimes he wished to be human. How easy it would be to pluck strings with a nimble five-fingered hand.
Though Oskig wasn’t the type to complain. He just continued his song with joy, eyes wandering around the eroded lodge as his melody rose and fell. The soulful whistling had drawn animals of all sorts, although Oskig was sure if he made one sudden move they’d retreat back to their homes.

He flicked his eyes back up to the little birds.
“I hope I get a good one, hm?” he hummed. “This place is filled with wonderful people. I’ve always loved Ravenspire! Such a joyous place. Still not as inspirational as Old Linnspur, but glorious nonetheless. I hope a writer gets my note. Either a writer or a musician, at least. Someone who can help me fill that ol’ book. What do you think?”
Again, the birds did not reply. And, again, Oskig wasn’t dampened. He would see what the future brought him— with time and time only.

Vienna took a deep breath at the realization. She was looking for adventure was she not?
But what if it was meant to be found by another? She definitely wasnt worthy of an actual adventure such as this. This Oskig guy seemed pretty cool though. She was sure he wouldnt mind the sucky excuse for an angel? Right?
Turning back around to face the desk, she stepped up to Ms. Hardachre, her wings softly dragging on the ground, collecting the gold pixie dust she would later realize and collect it. For it had some healing properties she would find quite useful.
“Uhm, I’d like this one please” she says laying it down on the marbled desk softly.
The lady opened it to the middle, confusion on her face. “Uhm….its empty though?” She questioned, the wrinkles on her forehand getting more defined as she pressed her thin lips together.
“Yes ma’am.” She only nodded with a soft smile.
“Uhm…sure. If its empty you can just have it. I dont know what its doing in this library” she says with a questionable tone in her little old voice, sliding it back to the young girl.
“Thank you! Ill see you around!” She says, little did she know. She wasnt going to be seeing anyone of the townsfolk in a long while.

“Oh darn” she says upon walking out of the building, remembering her blades. The sweet gal must be ready to take them!
Her wings were damaged yes, but she could still fly. So spreading them and with a few flaps, the petite girl was off of the ground and on her way up the hill towards the forest and towards her home.
Upon arrival, a girl in a black cloak arrived, one of white hair and mysterious ghostly eyes. (Yeah you know who this is)
“Hey! I’m so sorry! Your blades are ready! Ill be right out to get them for you!” She says before landing gingerly on the ground, the leaves blowing away from Vienna.
Holding the book to her chest, she pressed her wings to her back and ducked into her house, coming out with three blades wrapped in a cloth of leather.
Stepping up to the white haired girl, she gave a kind smile as she took the blades. Opening the leather cloth up revealing three different sized blades, all of Damascus steel. The beautiful black and grey steel shone bright in the sunlight as it beamed down on the two girls and the blades. Flecks of the pixie dust settled on the cloth as she had some still on her hands.
“They’re beautiful! Thank you!” She says kindly.
“Why thank you! I always love making Damascus, but its not in that high of demand lately. Say, where are you headed?” Vienna asked the pale girl.
“Honestly…” she says looking up to the sky, a pretty blue with rather dark clouds coming overhead. Her one blind eye more blue than the other one, and she smelled purely of vanilla. A scent Vi wanted to remember forever.
“I have no idea. Ive got to find my brother and ive got a friend leading the way.” She says with a smile before pulling the hood back over her snowy white hair. A color Vienna wouldnt forget.
“Well ive got to get back to her before dark! See ya! Thanks a billion! Have an amazing journey!” The unnamed girl says, running off into the woods and disappearing in the darkness.

“Oh why thank y- wait a second” she paused… how did the girl know?
Vienna shook her thoughts away and entered her house only to see the book missing. Did she-? No, she couldn’t have.
“Oliver!!!” She called with a smile. Soon a white crow looking bird peeked its head out from behind one of her bookshelves and flew out of the door she left open in a white flash.
“Oliver come on! Give me back my book mister!” She says coming out of her house.
Soon the bird flew down with the leather book in its claws and dropped it in her hands.
“Bad bird! You can steal! Not even from me” she scolded the bird before it flew inside.

“Say, when do you think they will arrive?” Oskig asked, still not even looking for an answer. He shifted on the ragged chair, glancing out the shattered window. The sunlight glinted off of the pieces of glass, beautifully reflecting on the dilapidated floor.

It was truly a beautiful picture, Oskig’s music fitting it perfectly. The sun shone through that broken window, mesmerizing dust floating through the stream of light. The shadow of the cracked frame was cast on the rough floorboards, little bugs crawling their way to and fro the rivets between. Oskig’s umber eyes followed their business intently, watching them dance and sway with the swiftness of the pursuit. Their little bodies carried leaves and diminutive wooden pieces, bringing them hastily back to wherever they lived. The owlfolk hadn’t yet ceased his charming smile, his navy feathers fluffed with glee.

His eyes soon wandered the shelves around the lodge, books meeting his gaze. There were also a few wooden trinkets, all made by friends of his. Some were redwood, others were pine, and the rest looked like a nice mahogany. There was also a contraption made from twisted wormwood, maybe one of Oskig’s favorites. It was made by a man of the name Juschin, a good friend Oskig would never forget. The man had taken a trip up to the northern Strathmoore mountains not long ago, and Oskig was set on meeting him once again.

Oscar was known as a A Caladrius, a snow-white bird that lived in the king's house. It is said to be able to take the sickness into itself and then fly away, dispersing the sickness and healing both itself and the sick person. Its more her best friend than a pet. When escaping the burning castle, she took the bird with her and its been her best friend ever since. They took care of eachother, and throughout sicknesses, she and Oscar had helped many people with their magic. That was probably why everyone loved her so. Shes saved multiple family members and townsfolk. And she expected nothing in return.

“Hey Olly, wanna go on an adventure?” She asked peeking into the house through the cracked dark oak door with a smile. The bird walked across the slick floor and looked up to the girl, cawing a few times and shaking his feathers. “Ill take that as a yes. Let’s go” she says with a smile.
After a small bit, rain having passed and now the ground was wet and rather soggy, she didnt mind much. She made sure to pack a good bit of stuff, knowing a few spells from witches along her journies to shrink a certain amount of stuff. Clothes, weapons, food, but only a small amount because she didnt want anything rotting in her bag. Herbs and seeds galore, things for first aid obviously.
She changed back into her blacksmithing clothes and headed to the town once more, Oliver on her shoulder.
Making her way to the stables, she met up with the stable boy, around her age, most likely 22 if she were to guess. They had a little fling a little while back, but now they were only best friends.
“Hey Jin! Could i take Moose on a journey?” She asked going up to the brown horse with a black horn on his head, a black blanket over him.
“Sure! Where ya headed Vi?” He asked, leading the giant horse out of its pin with a lead and saddling him up.
Once done he lead Moose to Vienna and attached the bags to the saddle and helped Vienna up onto the horse. He was quite litterally a moose in terms of size. As he was a bit bigger than an actual moose.
Moose was fuzzy with longer, thick brown hair. And yes, was a unicorn. A type of unicorn that is.
The smaller, more majestic white ones only live deep in forests, only visible to those who they want to see them. Or those who are worthy of befriending one. Which was rare and close to impossible.
Vienna pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail, a few loose strands coming down and framing her face even more than it already was. Pulling a black cloak over herself, much like the one the girl had earlier.
With her goodbyes and such she was off to the lodge at Ravenspire

It wasn’t until that he heard the shuffle of fallen pine needles that his melody faltered. He strummed the song to a close, the whistle fading as he set the lute aside. It seemed as though he had company.

“They decided to show, I see?” he cooed, pushing himself to his feet and taking a deep sigh. It wasn’t nearly cold enough to see his breath, yet the air still bit the skin through his feathers.

He gracefully stepped out of the thrashed doorway, offering his company a large and charming smile. With an elegant bow, he looked back up, his chocolate eyes dancing across the figure of a woman on a horse— or unicorn, rather. And this actually didn’t seem like a woman at all. Fairy, perhaps? But the singed wings seemed a different breed. Then, angel it was.

He had never encountered many, but they always fascinated him. He was a birdfolk who couldn’t fly, and they were humanfolk who could. It was backwards, but rather than getting upset, he was simply in awe of the ways of nature.

“Salutations, my lady,” he hummed dearly, his voice still seemingly attuned to music. “Going out for a stroll, or, perhaps, looking for someone?”
The smile was clear through his words, purring a delightful hymn.

After a good while of riding, she came upon the abandoned lodge, Moose slowing down and Oliver cawing at the other birds staring down at the three from above. She felt the small hairs on the back of her neck stand when an Owlfolk stepped out of the doorway and greeted them.
She gripped the reigns with her leather gloved hands tightly as he came closer. Moose stepped back, reading Viennas uneasiness.
“Uhm… I’m looking for Mathias Taumoor Oskig, from HivenPost” she says, confidence radiating off of the girl. She wasnt nervous nor scared, just curious.
She knew this was Oskig, but acted like she didnt. She kept one hand on the reins, ready to run if anything happened, as she was quite concerned this was a trap.
Her other hand reached in her bag and got out the empty book. “I found this and i assume this book needs to be finished….. or ive been mistaken. If so, I apologize for the inconvenience and will be on my way to find the Owlfolk who goes by that name and return his book and accompany him on this so called adventure.” She says once again, with nothing but confidence stitched into her soothing voice.
Moose pawed at the ground with his huge hoof, the bulky horse blowing blackish smoke through his nostrils. The eyes or the unicorn a green gold, as most unicorns of this kind were.
Oliver flew over to Oskig and landed on his shoulder, settling there for a few seconds waiting for him to move. If he didnt, he would stay until he did. Why he did that? Well Vi had no idea.

The woman was fairly impressive already, and the sheer confidence she radiated was nothing short of beautiful. Oskig liked her, his heart skipping a beat as she spoke his name. If it was possible, his smile grew, the owlfolk absolutely beaming with joy.

He glanced to the bird beside him, stationed atop his shoulder. Os knew enough about birds to understand their notions, so he refrained from moving in any elegant or exaggerated way.

“Now, now, I believe that book is yours, is it not?” he asked softly. “It does not have a name on it— only in it. It seems to be resting quite happily in your care, no?”
He gave a slight nod, still standing upright and proud. All of his movements seemed like he was underwater— slower yet graceful, almost mesmerizing in his own actions.

“But alas, you have found me,” he cooed warmly, flitting his round eyes back up to the woman. “I am the Mathias Taumoor Oskig in which the book speaks. Who might you be, my love?”

Vienna was quite happy with how she handled the situation. And even more pleased to know the Owlfolk wasnt rude. She hated rude people. But then again, who ever liked them other than themselves?
The angel felt more powerful upon the steed, as she felt comfortable and able if something were to happen she could get out of there quicker.
But alas, she slid down gracefully with confidence and straightened her clothes before looking up at Oskig.
“Well sir, if you are who you say you are, though you could very easily be tricking me..” she paused and looked around before looking to the Owlfolk. “I am Vienna. Just Vienna. My fellow brothers and sisters call me Vi” she says referring to all of the angels up in heaven before she fell.
“Its a pleasure to meet you Oskig.” The angel spoke carefully.
“So, tell me…. what might we be doing on this so called adventure of yours?” Her emerald green eyes challenged him, but not in an hostile way. More polite and gentle than a mouse at a tea party

The owlfolk tilted his head, crest ruffling with the cold breeze. Of course, he was geared for it, with his many layers of feathers and down— as were many owls.
“What does the adventure entail?” he repeated, looking over to the small bird atop his shoulder. He held out a taloned finger, having the bird hop onto it as he moved.

Oskig gracefully stepped forward, gazing intently at Vienna. He glanced to Oliver, beginning to speak again.
“My dearest,” he began. His eyes were still on the white bird, yet he seemed to be addressing Vienna. “Have you ever dreamed?”
It was then that his eyes flicked over to the fallen angel. “Have you ever wondered why the blackbird sings only to the tune of the night? Have you ever questioned the origins of the riches on the western shores? Or have you simply taken the world as it is, never leaning into the mystery?”

He swiftly stepped beside her, setting Oliver down gently on her shoulder and running a hand along the steed. He danced around to it’s face, pressing his forehead to its own for a quick moment before simply just stroking it’s cheek.

“Have you ever had a yearning for more?” he continued, gazing into the unicorn’s chartreuse eyes while leaning back. “For more than what lies at this continent’s surface?”
With that, Oskig took up a post beside Vienna, offering her his hand.
“Because, that is what I am offering. A little sustenance to cure the beautiful fernweh— that sickening wanderlust— you’ve been trying so hard to satiate.”
The owlfolk glanced down from his hand back up to Vi’s eyes.
“Would you like to join me, my love?”