...by a Moonlight Shadow...

Silla reached into his hakama, pulling out a short pipe. He put it to his lips and watched as Nordian removed the mysterious helmet. His eyebrows arched slightly and his ears twitched upon seeing what looked like Death's Face. He puffed out a small ring of smoke in mild surprise. "Well," he began, "you're still a person, right? No reason to start shouting we're on fire or anything." He said.

"Thanks for your honesty, and I agree with Mantis. You're Bones for now on." Silla chuckled, watching Nordian put the helmet on. "Atleast you weren't literally bred for war, hahaha!" Silla laughed. "You have us, now, Nordian! We'll be brothers-in-arms! Friends! Comrades, Sandwiches, Cake ingredients, family!"

Silla went back to smoking his pipe, lounging against the table. To him, the fact his newest friend was a walking skeleton, didn't seem to faze him much on the outside, but on the inside serious considerations were going on in the far back part of him mind, while the rest of the mind was wondering something else. "So, do you still get romantic feelings or phantom stiffies?" Silla asked, breathing out a small plume of light purple smoke that smelled like lavender.

“I must be blind to have misjudged you two so badly. No one has called me friend or family in a very long time. Not since I died certainly. Thank you. Thank you both!” Nordian said. Despite his lack of mouth or lips, it actually sounded like his voice quivered under his immense relief and gratitude. His greatest fears had been proven baseless, and reality had surpassed his wildest hopes.

“And yes, my mind and spirit, at least, are still that of a man and person. My will is the only one that controls my actions now. As for romantic feelings, I still get them. Such are part of the mind of a man. But they generally serve only to remind me that I can no longer engage in pleasures of the flesh, being only bones now.” Nordian said.

“But what is the use of dwelling on what I cannot do, when there is so much still that I can?” Nordian said his tone lighter and more cheerful. He rose from his seat, feeling better than he had in a long time. “Was there not a sword in need of sharpening? And then I shall have to find what metals this world holds, and see if there is one light, strong, and malleable enough to be made into armor for a fairy!”

At Nordian's generous thanks, Mantis's grin became even more pronounced- he could tell that their acceptance of his true form had quite a pronounced affect on him. For the first time since Mantis met him he actually sounded happy, and even though his helm was back in place, he seemed less guarded as well. "Hey, no problem." he answered with a deep nod.

As Nordian explained his tragic inability to feel, Mantis tried to imagine what that kind of life would be like- not being able to smell or taste food, or to feel someone else's touch. And the fact that Nordian had felt he couldn't show his real face must have made it that much worse... But- Nordian's positive outlook helped restore the atmosphere of the moment.

"Yeah!" Mantis exclaimed agreeably to Nordian's enthusiasm of his blacksmithing art. In Mantis' excited state he attempted to take off in flight from the end of the table- before realizing he was too heavy to fly from all the food he'd eaten. Beating his wings frantically, he seemed to flail around in midair for a moment before tumbling back onto the table's edge. Mantis caught his breath for a few seconds then looked to Silla, an eyebrow raised. "Where's your sword, anyways?" he asked.

Silla's ears turned and became slightly flat as he listened to Nordian's answer about the romance moods. But then as Nordian returned into a more cheerful mood, certainly more cheerful then when they first met, which hadn't been that long ago, Silla began to purr in content happiness for his friends. The purr was very loud, and Silla seemed to enjoy his own purring a little too much.

Then Mantis's voice disturbed the fog that had already half taken over Silla. "Sword? Oh! Oh yeah!" Silla blinked, his purring ceasing. "Mmm, oh yeah, with my uncle. I gave the sword to my uncle. I don't think he'll fix it though, he hates me." He said, before walking out from the room. He stood in the hall noticing a puddle forming, and so he looked at the ceiling. Reaching up, the very tips of his fingers touched the ceiling, and he brought it back down. Blood, his fingers were covered in blood. Shaking his head, the puddle vanished and the blood on his fingers seemed to evaporate. It was all just a hallucination.

"But what a very real illusion it was." He whimpered. "Okay, so, we go down the hall until we reach the entrance covered in soot." He explained, point down said hall. "Inside that room should be a human sized male fairy missing a limb and a ruined wing." Silla then sat down, holding onto his head. "And... I think I'll go find my mother before she finds me."

“Easy Mantis,” Nordian said, as the little fairy failed to take off. The suit of armor he planned to make might prove to be a greater challenge than he thought, if Mantis had difficulty flying with only a full stomach. The iron would need to be drawn very thin if Mantis was to wear it. Far too thin to provide any meaningful protection. But in his own world, there were metals that were much lighter than iron and just as strong, if not more so. Perhaps this world had some he could use.

“Eh, did you say something?” Nordian asked, when Silla murmurings about an illusion interrupted his thoughts. Silla didn’t answer, but merely pointed out directions to the blacksmith’s shop. He also said that he ought to find his mother.”

“If you wish. It shan’t take long to get your sword back to pristine condition, Silla,” Nordian said, “Return when you may, and I can show you how to care for your blade. It is not hard, but only a little tedious. Would you care to come, Mantis? We can talk while I sharpen Silla’s blade. There is much I need to know in order to make a proper suit of armor for you.” As he spoke, he held down a hand so that Mantis could climb onto it.

Just after Mantis returned to the tabletop, he'd realized the unsettling sound of purring; it managed to alarm him for a moment before realizing it was just Silla. Like earlier when he thought he'd heard a noise from another room, he was still on edge.

Silla seemed to be distracted by something unseen above him for several seconds before explained that his uncle would not fix his sword Butterfly because of his hatred for his nephew, Mantis wondered why... Until Silla went on to say something about a disfigured fairy, presumably her uncle. Then his uncle was actually fairy and not a neko, as he'd guessed. Then was there discrimination against Silla within his own family? Hmm... He wondered just what to expect.

After the rather embarrassing non-flight a moment earlier, he was reluctant to accept a ride from Nordian- he felt (mostly) fine, after all, and knew that when he was done digesting he'd be back to flying form and full of energy. As for then, he was much too eager to get to working on his armor to get there on foot- he suspected he'd look even more foolish after developing a cramp.

Accepting Nordian's offer, Mantis hopped onto the cold metal gauntlet, which inside he now knew only protected cold bones. Nevertheless, he didn't feel too strange clambering up the armored skeleton; he took his favored spot atop Nordian's armored helm. Though he couldn't fly at the moment, he would have rather sit atop someone's head than to have been talked down to on the floor.

"Alright Bones, let's go do blacksmith stuff." he chuckled, "See you later." Mantis waved to Silla, before leaning forward over the rim of Nordian's helm and speaking to him through the grill, while secretly trying simultaneously to get another peek at his skeletal face, "What do you think's up with him- finding his mother first and all that?" he asked.

Silla walked down the hall towards a different room where he smelled his mother's scent. It was a room with a bunch of candles lit and stood flickering in the magical darkness of the room. Treading lightly, even for a half-Neko, Silla reached the middle of the room. "Mom?" He asked softly into the gloom.

"Yes?" Lola asked, fluttering up to her son, worried. "What is it, Silla? If it's about your newest child, I already know."

Silla looked taken aback. "Y-you do?"

"Well, now I do." Lola sighed. "You walked right into that one, Kitty-Butt." Shaking her head, she put her hand on one of Silla's cheeks. "Where is the baby though, Silla? What happened to it?"

Silla took a step back, stepping into the flames. Removing his foot, Silla began trying to put out the flames which began to quickly consume the hakama. "I was up North, some people up there have him." Silla said in a fearful and pained voice as the flames began to eat at the flesh.

"So you didn't kill it?" Lola blinked, confused. She recieved no answer as Silla was too busy being grilled alive. Fortunately, the enchanted fire would not kill Silla, and it would leave wounds Lola could easily treat in an hour. For now, she had to punish her naughty child.

Silla made soundless screams, silenced by the soundproof walls around him, and watched by the eyes of his mother as he burned alive.


Meanwhile, Silla's Uncle was hammering at a javelin tip, the sword forgotten on the floor. He wished his sister, despite all his contempt for the halfbreed, wouldn't need to resort to setting him on fire everytime he has a kid and stashes it somewhere. "Stupid halfbreed whore gets what it deserves!" He shouted, striking the hot metal with enough force to crack his mallet. "Oh, that wasn't supposed to happen."

Nordian froze mid stride. Something brushed against the magic binding his bones together. He glanced from side to side, even though he doubted he would see anything. He focused instead on the wispy, insubstantial feeling, but it eluded him. As quickly as it came, it was gone. Still, Nordian shuddered at the feeling. He had hoped never to feel it again.

Pain. Unnatural pain. Not his, but the faint echo of another’s. He had occasionally felt this while under the Necromancer’s control. But the necromancer was dead, killed by Nordian’s own hands. Was this a residual of those dark times then? Whatever it was, Nordian put it from his mind. He could never understand the magic that formed his unnatural body, he probably wouldn’t learn what caused that faint feeling. Shrugging, he resumed his way to the blacksmith’s shop.

Nordian stopped again when he entered the blacksmith’s shop. However, it was awe rather than fear that halted his footsteps this time. Everything he could ever want as a blacksmith was here, and more besides! There was a forge that glowed from within from a magical fire. There was a steel anvil of the finest quality. There were hammers and tongs of every shape and size, and a swage for the shaping of metal bars.

“Wonderful!” Nordian said, looking about him, he dropped his shield and mace by the doorway. He walked to a rack of whetstones and polishing stones used for sharpening blades. They were neatly organized by grade and medium. Nordian picked up three of them, one coarse, one fine, and one even finer. He turned and noticed Silla’s uncle, with the crippled wing and missing leg.

“Ah, forgive me. I was so eager to practice my craft again that I neglected to introduce myself,” Nordian said to Silla’s uncle. “I am Nordian, a friend of Silla. I had offered to tend to his sword for him.”

Mantis balanced atop Nordian as they made their way to the forge; everything was fine until Nordian suddenly stopped- and at the same time, Mantis could have sworn he felt an inkling of something- but could not place it. Shaking the feeling off, he reasoned that he was still jittery and feeling a little prone with his current trouble flying. He wanted to ask Nordian about it, but since he didn't seem to be alarmed, although even if he could see his face his expression would still be inscrutable; he made himself more aware for the time being.

But his wariness was forgotten in wonderment when Nordian turned into the blacksmith's shop- a place filled with more metal than Mantis had ever seen in his life. It was easy to tell just how many weapons could be made here for those human-sized. Heh, he thought, if he was getting excited about this stuff's potential, Nordian, who actually knew what to do with it, might have been even more so.

Another thing Mantis noticed was the air was hot- from a molten-bearing caustic kiln, aside which stood a certainly strange fairy, one which, as Silla had quite accurately described, with a decrepit wing and one leg missing. Mantis wondered if he should speak first, but seeing as they seemed to share the same trade, that probably outweighted that Mantis was the same race, or at least partly.

He buzzed his wings and lifted up a few inches to wave to Silla's uncle. "And I'm Mantis." he piqued in, smiling before being slightly disheartened by the grumpy look on the man's face; he plopped back down on the helm, still a bit heavy to stay in flight easily.

((Mantis in the wiki ))

Silla's Uncle sensed the two, but he did not turn his back from his work, he fixed up the lance head and then threw it into a pile of other rejected spear heads, sword blades, kitchen knife blades, and an assortment of other such metallic items, enchanted and non. Sitting down on a stool, his wings fluttered weakly in a sense of longing. "Ren's sword is over there." He said, gesturing to the weapon which sat untouched in a cornor. "You can fix the blade, but I think it'd be best if you two just left Silla and pretended you never met him."

As though he had been waiting for a long time to say it, he went on without a question. "That's not the Silla I knew. Years ago, he was so much happier and innocent. His father, dislike him as I do, was trying his best to raise Silla to be non-violent." He sighed. "Silla was as much a demon as his father was. He denies it, he's always denied it. Five kids and he hasn't taken part in raising one of them. Can't say I blame him, actually, he would make a horrible father and a much worse mother!"

The Uncle sniffed, shaking his head. "He's a demon, he claims to be tracking Sol Thous down to avenge his father's death, but I think he's long given up." He stood up, moving to trow some more kindling into the flames, which leapt out and roared like an angry beast before retreating to it's confines, pinks and purple sparks jumping out. "Can't argue he gets the ladies though." He chuckled.

Nordian quickly found the sword. Before he began work on it, he investigated the blade closely, noting each notch in it’s edge, and the intricate engravings along the length of the blade. With a cloth, Nordian carefully cleaned each inch of the blade, wiping away the grime of travel and battle. Selecting a coarse whetstone, covered it’s surface with oil to lubricate it. Sitting, he began working out the largest of the notches of the blade.

“You speak harshly of him. Demon is not a name one throws around lightly. I have been in many wars, and have witnessed what demons are truly capable of,” Nordian said, running the whetstone over the edge of the sword, taking great care not to damage the engravings. Because of the recent disturbing sensation, his thoughts had drifted towards the evil times he had to endure. Plus, some of the accusations the uncle levied at Silla gave him pause. However, Nordian refused to entertain such dark thoughts, not when he had the chance to practice blacksmithing for the first time in years.

“Though I have only known him a brief time, he has acted with honor and valor during that time,” Nordian said. The sound of the metal and stone sliding past each other made a hypnotizing rhythm. Each pass smoothing out the blemishes in the edge. “But I did not come to debate the nature of my comrade behind his back. I came to repair his sword, and to see what I must do to construct a special set of armor. Speaking of which…” Nordian paused his sharpening to grab several small pieces of iron, shaped into tiny spheres of various sizes. He laid these out on a counter far from the magical forge, so that Mantis would not get uncomfortably hot.

“Mantis, I need to know how much weight you are capable of carrying during flight. Try to find which of these pieces of iron you can lift and remain airborne. It will also give me a chance to observe how you carry yourself while flying,” Nordian asked, resuming the sharpening of the sword.

Mantis certainly didn't like the way Silla's uncle spoke of him- and did intend to defend Silla's honor, but Nordian did a well enough a job. Silla had earned respect from Mantis the first time they'd met, when the other demi-fairy hadn't done as he'd expected- a reasonable person who didn't eat tinies. Certainly he was strange, but that was no reason for... Did he just say Silla had five children?

... Wat.
Neither discussing Silla's honor nor his/her/it/potato's alleged offspring appealed to Mantis, but he did think he'd ask about that later- probably much, much later. As for then, there was more to do than deal with that hateful man.

As Nordian instructed, Mantis stretched for a moment, leaped off Nordian's helm and onto the tabletop, where several weights were laid out before him. One was about the size of his head- he gripped this one with one hand, lifting it to about chest level. He buzzed his wings for a few seconds, a droll pitch that became higher as his wings beat faster. A normal fairy would have simply levitated, the amount able to lift determined by their magic. By then he had already digested that which had given him trouble before, a task that didn't take very long if given a bit of rest. Now he took flight, leaning forward a bit from the ball's weight, and then holding it close to his chest where it was more centered and he could lean back a bit. This amount was fairly easy, as he'd often wear weight bands on his arms and legs back home, with comparable weight.

He touched back down and let the first iron ball roll away, looking to the second. It was about twice as large, and he needed to grip it with both hands before hefting it up. This time he held the weight directly above him, and concentrated on beating his wings even faster. While this much weight wasn't too much strain on his body's muscles, those that he'd trained to beat his wings like a common insect's were straining. Nevertheless, he did take off, wobbling to and fro a bit to keep the weight balanced. This too was doable- if not unwieldy.

The third weight was larger still- Mantis looked at it for a moment, scrutinizing the piece, and then sat down. For a few seconds it appeared as if he'd given up, or was simply resting. But as a bluish aura spread over him, he darted to the weight, flipped it up and over himself, and jumped as high into the air as he could with it balanced along with him, using his momentum and beating his wings even harder- for a moment it looked as if he would fall back down, but his wings beat furiously and he was able to hold it there above him. Then he tried moving the weight forward, which resulted in him falling a bit; he re-adjusted its weight and continued flying around Nordian.

"Anything else?" Mantis asked, dumping the weight down on the table with a audible thud, then taking a controlled fall down to rest beside it. For now his wings were completely still while he let them rest momentarily, but the rest of his body hadn't broken a sweat. If the armor was as heavy as the last piece, he didn't think he'd be flying everywhere, and his reflexes were sure to suffer.

The Uncle was silent, watching the scene before him. "Freak," He commented towards Mantis when the realization struck him that Mantis needed to move his wings to fly, instead of using magic. What kind of real fairy didn't use magic? Even Silla had his/her/tomato's healing magic. The blue glow had made him curious, but he didn't feel like asking the outsiders any questions. Or polite questions atleast.


Silla, on the other hand, had suffered major third degree burns... all over his body... again. And yet, as his and his mother's magicks co-mingled to peel off the burnt skin and reveal the sensitive new flesh beneath, he felt no hate towards the fairy. Silla deserved the pain, denying his mother the chance to see the grandchildren. He had also denied her his real emotions and problems. Lola was a nice woman, but when people tried to hide how they felt, she easily got angry. It may not have made sense, but that was a fairy for you. Silla knew that he would feel raw and be unable to move for the night, and he couldn't help but be vain and wonder if his hair would grow back the right way. He could feel the strangs touching his face, which irritated the flesh and made him uncomfortable. The feeling of hair being speed-grown from his head was painful as well, but he was in no position to speak.
Lola fluttered off once confident Silla's own magic would finish the job, leaving to find his two comrades.

"Hello," sticking her head into the blacksmith's room, Lola smiled at them. "You two will be spending the night if you want, Silla was silly and lit himself on fire again." Shaking her head, Lola fluttered right up towards them and clapped her hands. "I'll go get a guest room ready! It's just like a party! Except, without food!"

"Food? Isn't that the point of a party?" Silla's Uncle asked.

"You still owe me." Lola said in a dangerous voice, before playfully dive bombing her brother's head. "Stupid-skull."

"I am not a stupid skull!"

"Stupid-Skull! Stupid-Skull! Stupid-Skull!" Lola shouted, her voice ringing everywhere as her brother tried vainly to catch her. " 'Urrrghhh! Look at me! I'm Cathus! I'm SOOO tough!'" She mocked, lowering her voice and slushing her words. " 'Uuuugggghhhh! Look at my muscccllleeesss! They're sooo tough! I'm sooo tough! Oo-rah!' Hahaha!"

“Nothing that requires flying, Mantis, Thank you,” Nordian said, picking up a finer grain of whetstone. This one he also oiled and began running it over the sword’s edge. The major blemishes had been removed, this was just to sharpen and even the edge. Later he would go over it with the finest of the whetstones, called a polishing stone, to give it a proper sheen and a razor edge.

As for the flying experiment he had Mantis do, it told him much about the armor he would have to make. “That will complicate things,” Nordian mused, seeing Mantis struggling to lift the weights “If the armor is going to be worn for any extended length of time, it’s weight would have to equal the weight of the smallest iron ball. Otherwise you would become exhausted before too long. The armor cannot be made from simple iron, if it is going to be of any use. I will need to find a lighter metal.”

Nordian paused in his talking a moment when he heard the uncle mutter something derogatory towards Mantis. Nordian only chuckled to himself; perhaps before he left, he would show him what a ‘freak’ really was. Anyway, he was about to resume his explanation when Lola appeared. However, when she mentioned Silla lighting himself on fire, Nordian stood, sword and armor forgotten.

“What?! Where is Silla? Will he be alright?” Nordian asked Lola, interposing himself between Lola and the uncle.

After landing back on the workshop table with its various bits and pieces of metal strewn about, Mantis stretched a bit- his wings spread out as far as they could go, and then quickly folded once more. Mantis wasn't sure if the weight he was comfortable flying around with was satisfactory to Nordian- but the muscles in fairies where the wings attach to were not meant to be used in the way Mantis' did. If it was necessary, he would train those muscles to be stronger- to beat faster. The only reason he could fly now was because of such training, long ago.

All the while he carefully watched Silla's uncle, who had a decidedly negative effect on him. And then in mid leg-stretch, Mantis' ears picked up the muttering of a single word:

Freak.

Mantis merely furrowed his brow in response- it was not so much that he was insulted, though he thought he'd seen the last of the fairies here that would mock him- but it was the uncle's hatred for his nephew, whom he also called a freak, that really troubled him. Silla was a demi-fairy related to this man, and who had to put up with this stuff every time he came home, no doubt. This guy had some issues.

And then Lola appeared; Mantis re-folded his wings, which he hadn't realized were fanned out side to side, and un-clenched his fists as well. Mantis had wondered where Silla had gone off to- he expected he'd been practicing with the training dummies, of which Mantis was planning to go next. But when Lola said that Silla had- Caught himself on fire?!- Mantis found himself airborne in an instant. "What did you say?!"

Lola pouted when Nordian positioned himself between her and her brother. She crossed her arms, surprised by the concern Nordian and Mantis showed for her child. "Yes, he stepped backwards into some candles when we were talking and went up in flames. Of course, I helped heal him after I decided he was done burning. It was a fitting punishment. He keeps stashing away his children from me, and his latest one is up with the SchwarzBurg apparently, buncha freaks and weirdos if you ask me."

The Uncle chuckled in agreement with his sister. "There's no way their going to let you go get the kid either, considering how you almost ate one of their leader people."

"How was I supposed to know? She looked delicious!" Lola pouted, before sighing and shaking her head. "Don't get me wrong, you two. I'm not malicious... it's just... ever since Hiroto died... I feel like I lost my child. I lost my baby. Sol did more then just kill my love, he killed my child's soul. If I hadn't promised a friend I would remain here to help the wounded that come in, I would gladly go and destroy Sol Thous myself!" She changed her size to that of a young woman, tears starting to flow over her cheeks. "I ask myself 'where did I go wrong?' and 'why did this have to happen to us?'"

"Lola, we don't need to hear your sob-story today." The Uncle growled, looking a bit nervous.

"Shut up, Cathus! You insensitive @#$%! All you ever did was @$@!# fool around! When I got pregnant you tried to @^#%& kill my baby you %&@ *%&@&%! It's because of that *@$*(@$ 'accident' that I can't have children anymore!" Lola screeched, clawing Cathus's face, swearing in so many ways it would make the foulest languaged harpy proud. "Hiroto was kind to you! He treated you like a brother, all you ever did was call him a meal!"

"I did it to protect you, Lola! You shouldn't have $*@*% mated with him anyway!" Cathus shouted back, trying to defend himself from his sister's attacks. "Now you obsess over your grandchildren!"

"You don't know anything, you @#%&!" Lola screamed, chasing Cathus out of the room. She paused for a moment to grab a large mallet and left the room, still screaming. There was a shout from Cathus, then the sickening crack of the mallet hitting bone. Silence followed, and Lola poked her head back in. "He'll live. You can stay the night, I'll show you where Silla is when you're done with what you're doing." She said, panting and holding onto the bloody mallet, a few splotches of blood dripping down her face. Lola let go of her weapon, sinking down against the wall and shrinking back down to three inches, holding her head in her hands and staying completely and utterly still.

“I will go to Silla now. I will take my tools with me.” Nordian said in a flat tone, picking up the sword, the whetstones, and the oil. He also retrieved his shield and mace, and slung them over his back.

Truthfully, Nordian was very disturbed by this turn of events, and by Lola’s actions. In her rage she attacked both her son and her brother, Nordian was no longer sure that he and Mantis were safe from her wrath. Plus, he wanted to watch over Silla, to ensure that Lola didn’t decide to punish him further in such an extreme manner. In her state, it seemed to Nordian that she could too easily slip from wounding to killing.

“Please take me to him now,” Nordian said, after he had gathered up all he would need to finish sharpening and cleaning Silla’s sword.

Mantis had never before witnessed such a family feud, nor did he expect that Silla's mother had punished her son in such an extreme way- and despite the wings and fairy blood within him, such logic as Lola had put forth was beyond him. He hovered a safe distance away from the two arguing fairies, adjacent to Nordian.

Then things got ugly- obscenities gushed from Silla's mother that were worse than those spewed from a trochili in the Garden during harpy mating season.

Just when Mantis didn't think that things could get worse, sounds from the other room obviously sounded of Lola attacking her brother with a ferocity that even made Mantis feel a little sorry for the jerk, wincing at the sound of a weapon audibly striking the unarmed fairy. He had no idea Silla's mother was capable of being so brutal- at the same time, he found himself wanting to get out of there and get to Silla- and it seemed like Nordian was just as eager to discover the condition of their companion.

Mantis buzzed distressingly as Nordian gathered his things. At a loss for words from what he'd just witnessed, he could only look upon Silla's mother as she wiped the blood from her face with incomprehension and a tad of nervousness, though now she was currently smaller than himself. Her wrath was truly frightening, and though Mantis had opted not to dwell on the issue of Silla's children, it seemed that his family's conflict revolved around it. But that would have to wait- they needed to get to Silla first.

((Sorry about all my posts being crap, guys.))


Lola was silent for another moment, before pointing outwards. "Keep going down the hall. There is only one room with the door opened, that's where my baby is." She finally said in a defeated tone.


Silla managed to lift a hand and touch his hair. "Oh, so it's to my chest? Might need to fix that... later." His hand fell back to his side. So, he was naked, laying on the hard floor, and his skin felt raw enough the make a twitch of his fingers discomforting to the fifth degree. Listening to the commotion nearby, his Neko ears caught enough to make him feel even more guilty. "My soul is dead, huh... and what about you, mother?" He wondered aloud.

Nordian took a moment to set Mantis back on his usual spot on top of his helmet. Without a word, Nordian left the blacksmith’s shop, entered the hall, and proceeded to the open doorway.

“By the gods, what did she do?” Nordian asked, coming to the open doorway. He saw Silla, laying upon the floor, his entire body raw and red with many blisters. It certainly looked as if Silla had been burned all over. He was laying still, as if it pained him to move. Nordian averted his gaze when he saw Silla was naked. Setting aside the sword and whetstones, shield and flail, he looked about the room for a piece of cloth or fabric he could use to preserve Silla’s modesty.

“No soul is dead, Silla,” Nordian said, “Though they can become tainted by rage, bitterness, and grief. Still, what mother could do this to their child?” Nordian shook his head at the thought. He couldn’t find any cloth that wouldn’t cause intense pain to Silla, so instead he shut the door to discourage the idle passerby from looking in at Silla. Nordian stayed in the room, and found a seat looking away from Silla’s naked form.

“I know little of healing, but if there is anything I can do to ease your pain, tell me,” Nordian said. He didn’t feel ready to resume work on Silla’s sword just yet, and simply sat in silence.

Settling on Nordian's helm, Mantis didn't quite know what to expect as Lola led them to the ajar door- but upon entering the room he witnessed Silla's prone form lying on the floor, clearly in agony- his clothes notably absent.

"Silla..." Mantis began before turning away from their demeaned and pained comrade, and soon after, Mantis' whole body turned with Nordian. He'd taken in the scene in a glance, and one small detail- one troubling thing stood out to him:

There weren't any candles.

The situation wasn't light- Mantis sat with/on Nordian, thinking, buzzing his wings sporadically every now and then. Talking about the truth would no doubt hurt Silla more than the physical pain he was in now...

"I don't know if I can help you" he said in a voice softer than usual, "But if I can, I will."


((Craptastic post lol))

Spotting the others moving in, Silla couldn't help but grin. "Don't worry about me." He finally said after hearing them speak, his voice was cracked and rough. "I'll be fine. It's you two I'm worried about. My mother is rather unstable right now, as you have probably seen." He said, before pressing his palms to the floor and slowly pushing himself upwards, tears streaming from his eyes as he did so. Once he was up, he made quick work of putting his hands down to hide his... err... 'gift'. His wing markings were still glowing, pulsing his magic through the body and continuing to heal him.

"I didn't think she would lead me into a trap by wordplay, that's different for her." He sighed, looking down. "I don't want her to find Andri. I don't even want her to find my other kids. Not until I've done what needs to be done." Silla looked at his comrades. "I'm sorry you guys, I really am. I didn't mean for you to suffer like that. My mother was a good person! She still is... but, I'm just not the child she wanted I guess. Maybe she's hoping for a second chance with one of my kids."

"My name. Silla. It's old Kensui word. It's not even the name of a person. It's a verb meaning 'murder' or something like that. My father only found that out later, turns out he mistook it for Sullia, 'peace'. But a what's in a name? A person is a person, no matter what-I'm sorry, am I going off on a tanget again? I really need to stop doing this." He slapped his forehead, falling backwards and yelping in pain. "I AM NOT INTELLIGENT!" He gasped, twitching. "Okay, enough of me being a kitten, I gotta act like a tom now. Hey, Lazy-Bones, don't you have armor to work on? And my sword? If you don't work on my sword, I'm going to chew on your funny bone." Silla was now all laughs and giggles. "Whooaa, adrenaline. I like adrenaline. But it makes me very talk-y. Talk talk talk. I like talking. It's fun. Yay, oh, did you hear that? My voice is coming back! Let's see if I can sing!"

Silla really seemed to be either a) enjoying his own voice b) trying to take everyone's attention off of their perdicament c) becoming hyper or d) all of the above.

"Staring at you makes my heart ache. I have to protect this, or it will be ruined You don't know it but you are my medicine, only I can swallow you..." He sang, mostly to himself. Silla was not deranged, nor insane, he was just simply doing choice d.



(( Ah, your post was not craptastic, Fish, I liked it! .


this is the song Silla is singing. And this is also how I imagine Silla's male voice to sound. YES, I AM A PROUD FREAK. Why he knows a song from Earth, I wouldn't know. Make your own theories. *SHOT*))

Nordian wasn’t sure if Silla’s talking was an improvement, or if he was just putting on a brave face for them. It certainly seemed that he was still in pain. Still, Nordian picked up the sword and the finest of the whetstones (called a polishing stone), oiled it, and resumed running it over the edge of the sword.

“The sword is useable right now, but I have yet to finish sharpening and polishing it,” Nordian said, amid the rhythm of stone sliding against metal. “As for the armor, I’m at a quandary. The armor I was planning was meant to be worn constantly. Traveling armor if you will. Such must be light enough to be worn all day, and flexible enough to allow for flight. I cannot use iron, else the armor would be too heavy for Mantis to fly. I must find a lighter metal.” Nordian paused his talk about his craft, though he continued sharpening the edge.

“Silla, you have talked about what your mother wants. What about you? What do you want, for yourself and for your children?” Nordian asked.

Though Silla's sudden recovery was dubious, Mantis respected that after going through that, Silla could still keep on the light side. It didn't take much to ascertain that Lola was indeed unstable. "Your mother" he said decidedly, "Has one fiery temper."

Silla explained the meaning of her name- "murder" confused with "peace", huh?
"Well... I'm no predator." he mumbled, scratching his chin thoughtfully. If his father hadn't been so quick in naming him after the insect he most resembled, he was sure that after realizing he had no size-changing powers, his name would have been "Fly".... No, he couldn't fly back then either. "Walk", then? No, that sounded like a bad joke. Shaking his head, he'd forgotten what he was thinking about in the first place, and instead focused on the rhythmic grinding of the whetstone on the metallic surface of Silla's sword.

He wasn't sure what to think of Silla's attempt to sing- and when he got to the "Only I can swallow you..." bit, Mantis twitched involuntarily. Shaking himself of the spontaneous shudder, he refocused on what Nordian had just said- that since iron was too heavy, he'd need to find a lighter metal. No... He could lift the weight, as much as he needed to. He did have a few ideas to go over later with Nordian when it was appropriate to broach the subject again. For the moment, however, he was content to watch the process of Butterfly being restored by the keen skeletal blacksmith.

When Nordian lastly brought up the subject of Silla's children, Mantis shuffled his wings. There were a great many things he wanted to inquire- but he waited for Silla's response to see if he had a chance to ask. Either way, the whole ordeal surrounding these offspring, including the very fact they could exist (for various reasons) had him very curious...

Silla looked at Nordian, his eyes dark. "What I want? I want my kids to hate me. That way, they won't cry when I die." He admitted. "I'm selfish that way. I hate kids, but I can't just leave a pregnant chick behind, ya know? I mean, the first kid was with a fairy girl named Azurall, I thought she would be fine, but she cried when I said I was leaving so I stayed long enough for my son to know who I am. I remember him screaming at me when I was actually walking away. Then those other three, twins boys and then a girl." A soft glow came over his body as Silla forced his magic over his skin, sloughing off the blisters and dried flesh, dissolving them away. "Then I actually got knocked up myself. Damn, I didn't know labor hurt so much. I gave the baby away, I wouldn't have been able to raise Andri. Anyway, I'm sure she'll be happier with whatever family she's with now."

Getting up slowly and ignoring the numbness his skin was in, Silla walked over to the wall and put his hand on it, sliding the panel away and revealing a small cache of clothes. "We could go to the Ascarlin Mountains and hijack some of the stuff that comes outta there." He suggested, pulling out a few shirts and delibrating on them. "Or, we could push the limits of all knowledge currently known of our good home Felarya... and go North." Silla pushed the shirts back inside. He coughed, and growled something to himself. "I used a lot of magic healing myself, which means once we leave Fairy Pond, I'm going to suffocate. Damn biology @*$%ing things up." Reaching in, Silla pulled out two black articles of clothing, a long sleeved shirt and pants. "My dad's world had weird clothes. Too bad they're the only things that fit right now."

"Mantis, have you seen your parents recently?" Silla asked idly, reaching further into the mini-closet which contained the clothes. He didn't know where it was, but he was intent for searching for the filter mask.