[ We are reporting live from Black Peak, where Nebrinel is recovering from an age transplant! She is attended by nurse Fyril, and so crazy antics are bound to ensue! ] [ Minisession start! ] * Fyril sits quietly in the room near Nebrinel's bed, reading through one of the cookbooks. * Nebrinel is doing leather-working, sitting in her black robe. She has the makings of one archery bracer sitting there on the table, and another that she is working on. She has already cut away her hair down to mid-back as well. * Fyril sneaks a look up at her once in a while, but mostly, he's just reading. Every so often, he mumbles something to himself. * Nebrinel presses the leather up against her arms, presses her fingers into it, and hrms, saying mostly to herself, "I didn't know if it would work, but I think it will. Amazing. A good mixed bracer. Kyrilaro would be amazed." * Fyril looks up from the book at her, and blinks. Whether it's at it or her is hard to tell. "What are you making?" * Nebrinel gestures with the left hand, which is the arm it's on. It looks like a bracer, if the bracer was backless, palmless, and didn't cover all the fingers. "It's a custom archery guard... better suited to me, with about as much flexability as I can bring into it." She takes it off and puts it down. * Fyril reaches towards it, picks it up, and spins it around, looking at it. As he's doing so, he asks "And who is Kyrilaro?" * Nebrinel continues, half-idly, "Old teacher. Taught me bowyery and archery..." she trails off. * Fyril looks up from it to her, with a strange look in his eyes. "Going to tell me now? It's not like you can go anywhere. And you promised." He smiles a bit. "Promised a lot." * Nebrinel blinks, and smiles faintly. "Yeah, I did. But we've been distracted the last couple of weeks..." She sighs, and grabs some heavy silver thread. Very thick. "Alright, why not?" * Fyril sets the book aside almost eagerly, and looks up at her face with a grin. "Really? You will?" * Nebrinel takes the back of one of the gauntlets, which she has conveniently bored holes in, and starts threading it through. "A promise is a promise, and if there's one thing I do, it's keeping my promises. If I can." She smiles a little at him. "Pull up a chair, or something." * Fyril blinks down at the chair he's sitting on, then back towards her somewhat concernedly. Not at her face, though. He gets up and sits on the side of the bed. * Nebrinel finishes her threading and looks up. Blinking a few times, she realizes her error, and rubs her forehead. "Alright. So... about a hundred and fifty years ago, give or take, this was." She chuckles a little, at that. * Fyril nods, and looks off towards the window. "So, about 50 years before I was born." * Nebrinel nods. "I suppose so." She takes a blue spool of thread and starts doing the same thing she was with the silver. You can see now that it's going all the way up to the wrist of the gauntlet. "I was seeking pieces for Plaguebringer, which is no real surprise." * Fyril nods, and cocks his head. "When did you start getting those?" * Nebrinel says matter-of-factly, "I got the first over two-hundred fifty years ago. And the second a few months ago." She winks at him, and switches bracers, threading again. * Fyril nods, and turns to look at her a bit more directly. "But when did you start looking?" * Nebrinel chuckles. "Specifically? The idea came into my head maybe.. seventy five before that? I got lucky in the human lands." She switches thread again, and laces. * Fyril blinks. "And why'd you go there?" He blushes slightly. "Sorry, I should let you start somewhere. I just have too many questions." * Nebrinel laughs faintly. "Curiosity's a good thing. I went there because I thought that nobody in their right mind would. And it paid off." She shakes her head. "Let's get back to Kyrilaro and Vyrian." * Fyril nods, and gets an attentive look on his face. * Peter is now known as Atom * Nebrinel finishes with the threading, and smiles faintly. "Finished. So I was looking for a piece, as I said. Heard a small rumor about a possible piece at a noble's manor, and rushed after it." * Fyril nods. "Where was this? Anywhere I'd have heard of?" * Nebrinel shakes her head. "Minor lord, it's of no issue now." She frowns faintly. "But it didn't end well." * Fyril looks a little bit more towards her, waiting. * Nebrinel says, "I was badly wounded in a fight. Thought dead, I can only assume. The fact that I'm here today is through Melia's graces. Melia being the one who found me and nursed me back to health." Was she a human, or an elf? * Nebrinel grabs two other pieces of fabric, and her old wrap, and starts sewing them all together. "Elf. Melia was a kind little girl with a knack for healing, and a light touch. I supposedly barely lived, or so she said, but I wasn't awake so much to find out." * Fyril frowns slightly, nods, and waits. Nontheless. I woke up and found myself in her house. And her father, Kyrilaro was there as well. * Nebrinel smiles faintly, "'I don't approve of you, but my daughter has a habit of helping, and I can't deny her that.' He was a harsh old elf, that one, but he let me stay." * Fyril cocks his head. "He didn't approve of you? Why not?" * Nebrinel nods towards Plaguebringer. "Very few people like those, and an old fighter like him couldn't help but notice it. And the fact that I got in trouble with the local elf in charge wasn't the best for him or his family." * Fyril turns and eyes the sword. "Yeah. All right. And that elf was the noble?" * Nebrinel shrugs. "Noble enough. There are a lot of elves running a lot of minor and major houses. He was just one of a few thousand." * Nebrinel smiles a little sadly, and continues. "He warmed to me in the next day or two. Or, rather, his son warmed to me, and he warmed to me beacuse of it. His name, his son's name, was Vyrian." * Fyril nods. "How old was he?" * Nebrinel says, "Maybe twenty years older than you. Tall, rough, handsome guy, brought up to fight by his father. Not sure what he's doing nowadays. Don't really want to know." She looks a little sad at that. Why not? * Fyril blushes slightly. "Is that getting ahead of the story?" * Nebrinel replaces her frown with a little smile. "Yes." * Fyril runs a hand through his hair, and smiles a bit abashedly. "Sorry. Go on." * Nebrinel has managed to start putting together a new piece of clothing that's silver, grey, blue, and black as she's talked. Not much visible structure yet. "So, after I was back up on my feet, after a little arguing, Kyrilaro was covinced to teach me his fighting style. Which was mainly based around speed and flexibility. It suited me well. He's the one who put the whip and the bow in my hands." * Nebrinel smiles faintly. "I was the most attentive student he had ever had, he said at one point. Which is no surprise, I attacked the training like I did with Zarias, and he gave everything I asked for. So much so, in fact, that his son felt... well, we'll say threatened." * Fyril nods slowly. "Was he training with you?" * Nebrinel nods. "Yes. And after one such training day, he challenged me to a test of skills. It was very close, and he just barely won. It was an eyeopener for him. I went from some cute elf to his equal almost immediately." * Fyril looks a bit more towards her again. He's focusing half on her, half off. "Did he hold it against you? Or try harder? Or..." He blushes a bit and quiets down. * Nebrinel smiles faintly. "Try harder. It wasn't long after that that we started pushing eachother. We both trained like demons. And when people work together that closely... well. I'd tell you, but you'd blush. And I do not kiss and tell, besides." She winks. * Fyril rubs the side of his face, and sighs. "I blush anyway. But I get it." * Nebrinel smiles weakly. "I wasn't sure how much to say, but it's an important fact. The details there... well, they're not really important. But this lasted, maybe, a month or so. A very tiring, exhilerating month." * Fyril nods. "What did his father think? And his sister?" * Nebrinel says, "They didn't know about my age. His sister liked me, thought I was a good influence, because he was a little lazy before me. And his father couldn't have asked for a better pair of students, and to be in a relationship besides... I'm sure he imagined a new generation of the school surviving through us." * Fyril nods and waits. * Nebrinel looks down, and does a little more sewing and stitching. "Well, as expected, something happened. And it was the guards of the noble seeing me alive. We barely had time to run back and attempt to get me ready to leave before they arrived at Kyrilaro's lands." * Nebrinel says, softly, "Melia was the first to die, in the first explosion. He was taking no chances with me this time, and she paid the price. When Kyrilaro saw her, he told Vyrian and I to go, and set up with his massive longbow. He died sending arrows into the people who took his daughter from him." * Fyril looks away from her again, and closes his eyes. "And Vyrian came with you." * Nebrinel smirks. "Yes. We ran away in the night. I'm sure it would be very romantic, if it weren't for one big issue. After we ran away, he left." He'd seen his father and his sister die before his eyes, he said. It was all fun and games, but once someone got hurt... he said he couldn't handle that. And he walked off. * Fyril nods, keeping his eyes closed. He frowns a bit. "And that was the last time you saw him?" * Nebrinel nods faintly, and leans forward on her hands "Yeah. I... it hurt more than I thought it would. And I never went back. Especially once a few years passed. Too much pain, and I'd have to explain myself besides. Better to let it be." * Fyril nods again, and turns his head more back towards her. "Wouldn't have to explain now." * Nebrinel says, still leaning on her hands. "If he recognized me at all, sure. No, Fyril, sometimes it's better to let people live their lives in peace. Even worse when I would have to tell him that not only did they die for nothing, but there was nothing to be found in the lord's manor." * Nebrinel continues, "And that I was decieving him over those months. It was only two months, and I almost killed his family. There's no good reason to bring it back up with him." * Fyril opens his eyes slowly. "They didn't know why you were hurt?" * Nebrinel shakes her head. "About my age. They knew why I was hurt." * Fyril looks away again. "You didn't lie. You left out information. You can't blame people for making assumptions." * Nebrinel shrugs. "I used those assumptions to my advantage when I needed them, and loathed them when I didn't. Don't tell me it wasn't intentional." She slams a fist into the table, and then lets her head sink down to table level. "I try not to dwell on it. A lot of mistakes happened there." * Fyril starts at the sound, and whips his head around to look. He looks at her face, looks away a bit, then, very tentatively, rests a hand on her knee. "Still. Actually lying and leaving stuff out aren't the same. Or so I learn." * Nebrinel smiles faintly, and nods a little. "If anyone knows that, it is me." * Fyril looks at his hand, moves it off, then leans forward a bit. He almost takes her hand, but in the end, just leaves his hand next to hers, not quite touching. "Then believe it. That wasn't a lie, whatever it really was. Unless they straight up asked." * Nebrinel looks up, and says, "Technically, no, but sometimes you have to take responsibility anyway. If he had known, I could have left, and his family would have been saved." * Fyril shakes his head. "I don't believe that. If they were nice enough to take you in, they wouldn't have thrown you out for being cursed. That's not your fault." * Nebrinel shakes her head. "Maybe. Maybe not. It's irrelevant now anyway. Dwelling on it helps nobody." * Fyril smiles softly. "It might be able to. But more for me, the story is what matters. Telling me that must have been hard." * Nebrinel smiles a little as she sits up. "A little. It's a lot easier when you're this tired." She glances down at her half-finished top, and back up. * Fyril grins. "I should get you this tired more often." He looks hopeful. "Will you tell me more? You don't have to now, but later?" * Nebrinel chuckles faintly. "There are more enjoyable ways of getting me tired than this." She smiles wryly for a second, then adds, "I suppose I will. Hearing about Zarias might interest you." * Fyril cocks his head, and misses the meaning completely, then nods. "Good. I do want to know more about you." He looks at her face shyly. "Even if it does hurt a bit." * Nebrinel mms softly. "A lot of things hurt." She chuckles a little. * Fyril blinks. He twitches his hand to the side a bit, touching the side of Nebrinel's hand. "They don't all have to." * Nebrinel mms again, and brings her hand over to start tracing patterns on his hand. "No, but to say it is uncommon would be a lie." She grins a little. * Fyril twitches his hand a bit again, but leaves it there. He smiles softly. "Yeah, but you can not dwell on them, and think about the fun stuff instead." * Nebrinel chuckles. "Yeah, as long as people don't ask." She smiles at Fyril. "Not to say curiosity isn't appreciated." * Fyril blushes a bit, and nods. "I just want to know more. And you're the only one I have to ask about you. You can go back to the fun stuff afterwards." * Nebrinel chuckles. "I suppose so." She sighs, and lets her hand drape over his as she leans forward. * Fyril arcs his hand a bit under hers, but doesn't pull it away. He looks back at her curiously. * Nebrinel looks back at Fyril, and says, "Just a bit tired, I guess." She brings her hand under his, and lifts it off the table slowly. * Fyril watches her move his hand, and doesn't pull it away. "You want to sleep more?" * Nebrinel shakes her head. "No. I have to get this made, and then eat a little more. If I just lounge about I will never recover." * Nebrinel sighs, and lets the hand down again. "Thank you for help keeping me awake, I suppose. Something to talk about probably keeps me from collapsing." * Fyril shakes his head. "No problem." He smiles cutely. "You tell good stories." * Nebrinel smiles back, a little. "Well, for truth, I suppose they do well enough." She hrms, and looks down at her clothes. "Back to work." [Okay! Session over! GM dead! Victory?]