Untitled Story II (1)

The pinewoods were a zone in the southwest cursed lands, what was in the past a not so grim place between the olives, it happened to be a good zone for crops and villas to flourish as foam, a region that previously to the great silence was famous for its beverages, refined wines from multiple types of grapes and tones of maturation, it was in fact magical, each sip was a taste not so dissonant from the previous and the tones in it but they were enoughly unique each to look forward more. The beers of the malta on these lands was almost a cure to any mental disease there could be, people were just cured from it, yet it was bitter and sour. Pure ambrosia.

It was recognized from the absence of shadow, people tried their best to not build tall so the shadow didn’t block the sun to give life to their lands, flowers, grass, woods and farms grew exponentially with natural relief. Yet they made a mistake once, all the zone was under a chairman of sorts, a patriarch, or better said matriarch who ruled over them. Nothing but an Ad Honorem of sorts from the people to one of the most prominent farmers and community personal names. Yet the old king saw this as a desface, a clear case of people rejecting him and he did not like that. Old king is his title, no name shall be used from him forwards, he tried with all his might to take out the Matriarch of the southwest, a land once called “Vastara'' — emphasis on once called, now it lost its name, only recalled by locals and some powerful families of the blessed zones. —  He tried to talk to her, but it only resulted in subtle insults and unsubtle denegations over titles, nothing about sense, just a clear point in the saying of their people was the last phrase he heard «Anywhere the sun touches is better afterwards.» And sure he did no sun touch land any longer.
Now the land was condemned to a plague of growth, just as the old king thought they wanted, ever growing unrelentingly, fully embarked on its own world altogether, with its main area being a labyrinth, warping around and changing sides every now and then with a virtuosity of a cold trumpet with a mute, the prevalence of their beliefs was yet another thing to discuss, what matters now is the state of this area called by the locals as “The Pinewoods” Large pines with more than 20 meters in height and with sprouting sticks and leaves from every centimeter of them, these were done so the little paths there are existing on it are as roads, butchered constantly to keep their form, as a tunnel, an arch where the carousels can pass by and where the walls are entangled vines and ropes made with roots and warping metal to keep it on line, if it helped at anything.
Yet our witch and our  watcher didn’t take those paths, they are only a few and not useful for anything but going from capitol to main towns to the blessed lands.
The sense of Nasilv was spiking her as a needle telling where she needed to move at every moment, and with the more she traveled towards it the more she knew about it, as a resonance coming for the pole of her magnetic personality, fulfilling internal pages about the mental book of the book. They both traveled at pitch black darkness but with a whitish fog surrounding them, so each knew where they were and where the trees were at all times.
– Nasilv, hey– 
– And well, there is this place in the blessed lands, Integra I think the name is. I’ve read that they have this tradition of sorts. – He said with a grade of security that could also be perceived as insecurity. 
She was in front of a not so big but weirdly tall door, this was the point her pole was undone, no more needles cauterizing each point of her body no longer. A relief but also a dire notice, she was now totally lost in front of that door, a door with a small glass to look at, on that glowed faintly as an opal in the copper rims of the glass. Her hand opened it slowly, and Qüas was quick to sneak between her and close it shut.
They shared stares for a second, one disapproving, one angry, one preying once again. A third look could be felt, but not seen or even remotely be tracked, that was what the watcher was sensing over the dried and now unrecognizable woods on his back, silence struck again and a trembling gaze made his point clear over the other, having won for once.

The door creaked open. 
Their eyes took some time to accustom into the arrived shock of shadows that predominantly ruled in the place, it didn’t feel like a hut, nor a house, it was something more that they didn’t present in their minds, a novelty. Once they were able to see into it, they were surprised to be found by a living room, decorated with what looked like green wallpapers and cold temperature, with old cushions sitting atop the brown sofas and couches, all of them above a certain rug that resembled old symbols embroidered in golden thread and various colors such as purple, red, blue and black, in the walls they saw low hanging incense burners and from the top of the ceiling, tall as nothing they could compare from the outside, a chandelier with no candles and a coffee table with 4 cups served now cold sitting between all the sofas and couches and right under the chandelier. 
Both Nasilv and Qüas made their way in with no step missing or skipping a beat, in synth they embarged themselves with courteous eyes to stare at all of this, with their weaponry fully displayed. A mallet, a weapon made from wood, noble wood, one with crystal like incrustations permanently in them, them and the Cestus, gloves for fighting, dirty fighting, in those where the most important benefactor of the fight is not the outcome, but the start. The first and the hardest it starts, the best. 
– What am I? Oh, Baron but what are you asking yourself! I’m me nonetheless, the same that I ever was. Carraba, Baron. –
The pattern in which he said it to Qüas was not enough to prove anything to him, yet he remained still walking around the old room, a dining room with a long table, with carved chairs out of roble and metal, nailed and plated as well as certain mallet now deciding to be loosely hanging in the waist of a watcher glooming around the room with a calm foot meanwhile his witch looks at him with defiance.
– Well then, if you don’t wish to answer me I’ll have to ask you again. What species are you? Curse. – He said stopping with his hand on one of the chairs close to the top row.
– Uhm! A Chimera, Baron. – The Lion said with his natural height now being revealed, his tied robe of prussian blue was loosened a little to reveal a well ironed straight shirt under it, with the buttons intact and the silk already seemingless mixing between the blue velvet and the long and golden hair of the mane.
– So you say you are one part lion, but not fully, is that right? – As he was falling to his seat. 
– A Baroness, please take a seat too, I’ll make sure your wishes are as heard as they can be. – A silent second passed and the air turnt warm in the lights of the candles and the amber coloured bricks that surrounded the firespot, now they both were seated on the table, without muttering a word but looking at each other. The light blue eyes exclaimed an answer, or more so, asked for one, the darkened brown ones pleaded for more time with a tired eyebrow who slipped out of the seriousness of his own actions, a look of unknown and worry. 

–What’s the matter now – Said the witch without breaking her stride through the woods.

– You know, seeing all of these trees made me realize they are sort of like pillars, isn’t it? –

– Integra? Isn’t that in the north? –

– Yeah, that Integra, they have this kind of tradition or, a dogma or better said a superstition where when you enter a place with a pillar in front. You have to leave that same place from the opposite side of the pillar. –

– I don’t follow, what do they believe in? –

– Like, if you get into a house, and in the porch they have a pillar, if you entered with the pillar on your left you have to leave with the pillar on your left too. – 

– Isn’t that the same side? Where could’ve you read this? – Said the witch in a tone of disbelief and confusion. – 

– No! Look at me, If you are here, and the pillar is here, when you enter, now you have to leave from this side. – He explained it with his hands, mimicking a walking Nasilv and a pillar. 

– Pft, why is that a superstition? That doesn’t sound remotely enough as leaving salt on the table or sticking axes to the ground when it’s cloudy. – 

– That’s where I am getting at! They believe that if you don’t change your side of the pillar, it’ll be as if you never left the house, as if you were still there until you cross the correct side of the pillar. – 

– That’s the stupidest superstition I’ve heard, you know that don’t you? –

– Well! I was wondering, if it happens to be true, where would you be? – 

– I’d be at the nursery house. I think, she had this big wooden beam in front of her house. She said that it was to support a second floor that was planned, but the second floor didn’t come in and the wooden beam was left there stranded where it was. – 

– Well, I’d be somewhere, I don’t remember each place I get in, let alone the first one. – 

– Come on, not even in your hometown? – 

– I mean, of course I remember my hometown, but I’m not from the blessed land as you, I came from Kértario, that’s on the farthest west, the arid climate and the lack of stability on the sand made us dependant on settlements fixed on the walls, we don’t have pillars there. – 

– Makes sense… You know what? – Asked Qüas with a tender voice. 

– What. –

– It’s the first time I’ve heard you talk about your past, or you in general. – 

– No surprise, you never ask me anything about my past or me, dunce. –  

And so, the time passed in little hums and breaths that turned into humid spots from the cold lungs of Qüas, all up until he found in front of his face the palm of Nasilv, this was the first time they touched each other since a month ago when they got drafted together. Her palms were coarse and brutally tough, he confused it for a log out of nowhere at first, until he saw her standing lowly as a lurker.

– What should we do then. – Muttered Nasilv into Qüas ears. – 

– Knock first. Isn’t that obvious? – He said jokingly. 

She started knocking without hesitation into the door, not shy either, the echoes could be heard resonating between the trees and into the now crying birds in the sky. In the Pinewoods one could not be sure what time it is except for the clearings, once you are deep in them you cannot be sure if it’s the sun who bathes you or the moon who condemns you. It’s a lost cause to try to climb them up simply because of how quickly the sticks grow, once you are up here, there will be no way to get down from that side anymore — And once up there you would be food for the birds. — But making your way down was also a trip, chances are, you might end up stabbed by the sharply growing trees, making them a beautifully and captivating tomb. 

The insides weren’t lighten up at all, this was the perfect moment for Qüas to light up his last torch since what felt like 2 nights ago, if only he still had it with him, from it insides erupted an odor such as that of fresh bake, it was tantalizing for Qüas who almost left his curiosity overcome him, hold himself to the almost invisible doorway, the walls were covered in vines and it was truly amusing to watch the wall vanishing as you drew more distance from it. Almost as when the dunes tell you that there is water far out there yet it’s nothing more than sun what boards ahead.

The room bifurcated into two archways symmetrically mirroring each other, in those archways the arch of webs and little insects was the predominance, in both of them there was a bust of someone face, but only one was safe, the other one by the other side was crudely taken down and all that was left of it is the crumbled and dull, dry cement, yet the other one portrays the face of a woman with a crooked nose, with prominent bone cheeks and a stare of joy, even if her mouth didn’t emoted happiness at all, but a poker face that made the overall stone portrait a thunderous portray of mixed realities, one of ease and one of eager, rage and peace. War and Tragedy. Death and Time.

– At my left, we understand? – 

– Since when do you control where we scout? – 

– If anything, you go left, I want the right wing –

– Let’s not divide. – Said the watcher with a temerous voice.

– Then follow and shut. – Quickly prompted the witch without hesitation, already getting in the right wing of the living room.

And so Qüas quickly snatched his pants up from the boots end to strife directly to the other side of the room, jumping over the broken flooring of wood, corroded wood by time. The alley way of the right wing was long and dark, about 4 doors could be seen, and snuffed out candles in the vitrins of the wall, embedded on the wall itself, one couldn’t say that if this place wasn’t so filled with dust and flies it would’ve looked good, not only good, but fancy even, a little too fantastic for the pair standards but the look of impression and pressure was too much on their faces to ignore, they were ready to sneak in the first room when they started walking down the corridor, and so they turnt as instructed in an occupied place formation in the Witchery Academia, faintly a figure could’ve been seen by the glimpse inside that Nasilv took, without more remedy and after the 2 seconds felt in their bones, both of them, Qüas on top with his mallet over his head and Nasilv with her cestus ready to uppercut or jab at anything, stood in front of the door, only to be terrified by the presence of a large suit, a big and classical looking robe of prussian blue, adorned with an orange flowered ribbon surrounding a thick and furry neck, with a dense and heavy yarn looking hair flowing to the chest, proudly and vigorously wide, the robe was quite long, as if it was designed for winters long forgotten in the Pinewoods. The tall and intimidating presence was softly darkened by the portal of the door, yet his eyes grew an intense red, two little dots far apart. A grin was seen, turnt quickly into a smile, in that smile teeth and fangs like a tiger, worse, like a shark, an animalistic mouth was smiling at them in the dark, witcher and witch both of them truly scared for a change of heart, petrified to the look of the 9’ or 10’ tall beast. 

The beast looked at them with a wide smile, only to break the silence with a loud – Umh! Sorry for the awkwardness! Lord, Baroness, come ahead and take heed, the guest is waiting, please! – As he bows to the both of them, now dimly lighted.

The head was a lion, it was a lion, it’s tongue sounded as a lisped roar, booming voice, all his “O’s” sounded like if he was singing them from the guts, all his “U’s” felt like coming from ultratombs and his eyes were now gilded by dark felt, red pupils and fathomly white irises. Looking to the ground, awaiting an answer.

– Thanks… – Said Qüas without leaving his eyes from the wild mane of golden and ivory hairs of the Lion. 

– And you are? – 

– Umh! Sorry Baron, I've lost my modals in the excitement. Carraba, I'm Leo Carraba. At your righteous service, Baron. – 

The eyes of Nasilv met the face of her watcher, a face of disgust disguised in shock and intrigue, the eyes fixed on the now postrated solemnly creature of the curse that is touching his title, his mouth corrugated into a ditch of disapproval, petty and courage. His eyebrows turned into a V, his angled eyebrows were for the first time in Nasilv glance, agitated and fairly mean. 

They both took a step into the room passing past the Lion. A room with a decoration definitely old, still for whatever time it was firstly constructed, the wallpapers were moist and worked as a filter of the natural humidity of the Pinewoods, the chimney was of a red brick that at the dim light of the reddish fire they looked as a charred brown, on the roof there was scratches, and a hole in which the cold got his way in, weirdly and interrupting the annoying speech of mind that Qüas hold in his mind, the sky was clear, the place itself seemed, odd, in qualities of being entrapped in a doll house, as if someone else made them walk into there together, for the first time Qüas felt what Nasilv meant in her mind too from the first second she stepped into the Pinewoods, A pattern so large in scale it cannot be proven by any means known.

– So… What are you, Leo. – Said the young watcher with a certain tone.

– Indeed Baron, I’m more than just a mere curse, but, firstly let me! – His steps were finally heard softly touching the old and already stepped and noised wooden planks, his strife went directly towards a box from which a fire was started, a lighter of sorts, carried fire, but it wasn’t a flint and steel, only a small compartment of metal carried a flame that brightly brushed the tip of the already burnt candles in the long table, and once Carraba finished, he ended up in front of Nasilv who was cautiously reading the room without losing her obscure temper.

– Baroness, Baron, mind if I leave you too alone for a second? I’ll bring the proper wearings for a meeting like this. – Carraba said in a cordial yet almost mocky tone. Surely it was part of the imagination of both Qüas and Nasilv yet it was a convincing one, sooner than later the chimera left and soon the silent talk turned into a quiet dispute.

– What are you trying to do! Defying a lion like that for the love of you! –

– Have you gone mad because you share a title with a cursed creature now? Is that so? –

– You are acting like a kid on a grudge! –

– Alright, stop there and let me tell you. – said Qüas with his palm in front of her. – Are you sure that the book is in here? Truly sure, not a premonition or a trick of divination, but sure and secure that in this place there is a book like the one we were sent to get. –

Silence set in the room as soon as the door on top of the firespot swung open. Carraba was in a now different suit, one with rich red tones that made his mane resemble a royal crown, surely eccentric but clearly not made for him. The cloak was long and wide, hiding his shoulders and lower body with exact measures. On his hands a silver charole with multiple engravings of crude hammer, a design of flowers and serpents. 

– Uhm! We can now have a proper talk, don’t we do Baron? – Said Carraba with excitement, his hands lifted the top to reveal food, soft delicacies, crustless bread with fine species and a special mesh of fish and oils in the inside, followed with a drink served in a tall glass who tumbled around the moment the top was lifted. Food for a familiar someone, but food.

(It continues over here Untitled Story II 2) Why? It doesn't let me put it together fully. So, that's how it rolls