Drystan held the books in his lap with one hand and leaned to set the bright green drink down, and took his hand and placed it on her shoulder carefully, ever so gingerly. "Worry not over the work we will do to rid the island of its trapped souls. It must be done, and your worry will wash away to ease, I hope, given the reprieve of these dead that have lingered far far too long. I will let you know when we are to assemble, so that you may take precautions and be far from the location we are in." He gave her a light smile, canting his head down to catch her eyes with his own. He emitted empathy towards her, with threads of reassurance, and safety. in such close quarters it was easy enough to convey silently as they sat. He pulled his hand away and took the first book, the Welsh, and looked at the pages.
"Well good thing is, I can see the page just fine. However, I've always struggled with Welsh, as a good many do, despite having been born and lived not that far in comparison to the place. But we all know the history of the English and Welsh.." He trailed off and began to read. It was what looked like a log for a village or township, ledgers with the births and deaths, the joining of houses. Basically a small record of happenings in this place. He paused as he saw the name Ellis and Innis in the same paragraph. "Hold on...Here it says...Clan Ellis was responsible for ..massacre of Innis and taking siege and hold over land claims to widen Ellis' property and rank among clans. It says that not all Innis' were killed...but.." He turned the page and scanned it but it just continued on chronologically with no mention of who actually survived. "There's no list of who. Hm. So Ellis took out Innis. That's the brunt of that." He turned the book to face her and set it on the couch between them.
Llyw's long flow of hair of the palest blond lay across her narrow but stiffly held shoulders. Drystan's palm encountered many of the tresses in his effort to reassure and the unnatural well of heat she radiated. Her hair felt as if it had more tensile strength than it should, though still somehow soft. Also the feeling of a small line of smooth flat hard surfaces along the outer line of her collarbone under the thin layer of her dress. She shivered almost birdlike under his hand, looking from her near empty glass to meet his eyes wide-eyed, his smiling Empathy smoothing her startlement into some sense of calm, tension easing further in her posture with a sigh, a nod, a hint of greater blush at her overreaction.
The glamour was unable to hide everything, her irises especially, the red centers shivered slightly wider where pupils should have been, revealing the faintest flicker of bright embers. In any case it was clear the Lady was currently incredibly high strung, a case of jumpy nerves at the very least. Perhaps not surprising considering the constant challenges she faced and the dangers lurking for her. Llyw managed to set down her cup before she jumped out of her skin again, the prickle of Drystan's third eye dancing shards of space along her perceptions like ghostly moth wings fluttering against her.
The drink was working through her system enough that the Empath's nudge helped her relax abit more into the fuzzy edges of the buzz as the Windgrace mentioned his origin and confirmed her theory directly that her eyes were accursed to be denied sight of the knowledge herself. The seer had to close her eyes, lids heavy from the feeling he sent, the eldritch stare always felt, and the room slowly began a merry spin in her senses while the man began the tedious task of research on her behalf. "Thank you so much....It's so simple a thing...yet I've been frustrated at every turn for any scrap to find...So thank you." She murmured with another sigh.
The information recited however pulled Llyw up out of her daze, snapping to attention to realize how these simple bits of information began to fit like puzzle pieces one by one. "Ellis....It's a family name then...and an enemy one. Innis ...is my mother's maiden name... I guess there were survivors for us to be borne....She tried to hide it...tried to hide me." Llyw wondered aloud, staring at her hands frowning. "Didn't work of course...The Curse found me, took her and my father...." She looked up, something fierce burning volcanic in the cores of her eyes, "But I didn't die. I refuse to die, every damn day..."
Tiny fangs appeared with her grimace, delicate brows drawn, some of the illusion breaking down under the green fairy's influence. "I know the caster is an older man...Grandmother Nemi showed me through the cards....He suffers from this Curse too...if that vision is to be truth. Now I know a last name. I need the first."
Her whisper had gone from soft to sharp as a blade, a rage seething in the small woman that seemed more than she could contain. She glared at the book rather than land any of that intensity on a kind man at her side, the page holding only illegible smears to taunt her as the room danced in slow waves around her. Payback from this angry woman would be far greater than her size might suggest perhaps.
Drystan felt her emotions sway from one extreme to another, as she fought internally. He frowned lightly, but went back to the book that was on his lap and still kept up the same empathic waves to hopefully cool her hot temper down. While he looked over this book, in French and much easier to read, he spoke softly, despite her turn from meek to blazing, cutting with her teeth, which he noticed, but said nothing about. He knew that she glamoured heavily, it was her way, and it was her choice to allow that to fall or not. He himself didn't need to worry, she saw him as he was no matter what. "Well hopefully it can be found. This is far easier to read though, French was spoken regularly - we stayed there for a few summers every now and again, I quite enjoyed Paris, but...City life is tiring for some." He took a breath and began to read. This book was far more historical and paragraphed than the other, touching on witchcraft history and historically which family lines were in the practice. He read silently for a while and then moved to the facing page, reading down a couple of sections when mention of the Ellis of Wales stood out.
"This is speaking on families that historically were practicing witches, and it mentions Ellis of Wales, in the northwestern Shire of Caernarfon. There's even a little map, though, for descriptive, not navigational purposes clearly. Its up in the mountains here, near Snowdonia?" He questioned and looked over at her to see if that rang any bells for her. He looked back and read through the information again before reading further, but it moved on from that family to yet another in the Highlands, a Scottish Clan, Which was not what she was looking for he surmised. "Not much else really."
He again, turned the book and placed it atop the other on the couch between them, and then reached for his glass, draining the remainder, which was an awful big gulp, but he'd not even started to feel the fringes of the alcohol in his system. He pointed at the bottle and asked, "More for you dear? Though, it will only make you feel warmer." He noted. So he had picked up on her temperature, and the fever waves she gave off. He could feel how hot her blood literally was, even from just putting a hand on her shoulder. As he reached for the bottle to refill his own glass he considered for a long moment. "Do you happen to have any mint that grows here? Random curiosity."
Extending Drystan's power to soothe Llywellynn was very much like trying to keep a restive horse from bucking. Despite how frail and weak Llyw might look, her will was a thing honed like a sword and her emotions were desperately strong, as only someone trapped on the edge of death constantly could be. But even that didn't explain the sheer depth of rage that burned in her. As an Empath, Drystan would be granted the insight to realize that the emotion of pure vengeance that seethed in Llyw was literally greater than she was, more than one person could possibly feel. History lived in her somehow, the history he had just recited perhaps.
With eyes that literally burned bright, Llyw poured more Absinthe to have something to occupy her hands, filling his cup out of courtesy without needing to be asked, considering what he had already remarked on his tolerance. She took another drink while he reminisced before falling into silence, he, gathering information she could not see, she, trying to relax into the calm he conveyed to her.
"Snowdonia...Caernarfon..." Llyw sighed, savoring the bitter tinge, "A witch family there....It's the cross reference I needed....thanks...for that..." Her words were slurring just a tiny bit, becoming softer again on the rolling cadence of her southern roots. "That..will hopefully...narrow the search...for a family head there....and a name to scry the spell...."
Her true appearance wavered faintly in the literal heat waves coming from her now, her scent a potent force of its own for anyone of predatory inclinations to incite curiosity to follow the sweetness to the source. Even for those not so inclined, she would smell exceedingly smoky sweet. She managed a smile to him, gratefulness conveyed but she was taking another long swallow to drown her frustrations, baring her swanthin neck a bit doing so.
After drinking deep of the green, she shook her head, "No...Only have ...Eli's ice here..to stay cool..." She knew what he was asking about at least.
Drystan eyed her as she drank more, her speech giving away her buzz. He didn't mind that in the least, he was the last person to make judgment about a person and their vices. He snuffed a little though, as her scent tickled at his nose, physically wriggling his face to brush away the tingle of an itch. "Shame that. When I'm home, i will craft a salve, and can implement that to help ease the heat you are giving off." There was no reason to dance around the obvious. "You uh..hm. You okay with the drink though, I wouldn't want you to slip from your controlled state of being,..Showing things you may not wish to share." He waved his hand about his face and such. He shrugged and took a drink himself, "Just making you aware." He didn't know if it was her curse, or just her being that caused such an emotional flare that she had, but he wasn't about to dive into that pool of vipers. He had his own way of keeping himself, feelings and emotions and instinct all boxed and shuttered away inside himself, years of torture as a child having taught him quite well how.
Behind closed doors under a haze of drink and revelation the simple veil of the Covenant fell. Llywellynn was a well practiced and usually well composed lush, but she was not used to Absinthe, clearly. The room was spinning, her fever was raging through her but the suffering was thankfully distant. For the moment before her higher metabolism siphoned away the bliss of it, the tongues of fire running constant along her nerve-endings were blunted softer so she could rest her head on the back of the couch and just breathe. In a blink, Llywellynn showed her true colors unawares while she listened to Drystan speak to her.
While much of Llyw's form remained speculation under her long widow's dress, what could be seen of her was not human. No human could survive the fever that burned her up from within, the emberbright fury of it most definitely glowing from the windows to her soul. Her hair was purest silver shaded to rich ruby red darkness at the ends, with a sheen almost metallic to perhaps explain what he had felt. So too revealed a line of blood red rubies ran along her collarbone like a necklace, but the gems appeared to be growing from her flesh. Thin etched lines of silver ran downward on her skin, symbols of Arabic imprinted upon her an arcane claim, the meaning hidden under the deep neckline over the slightness of her bosom.
More rubies graced the soft contours of her face, glittering below her eyes like permanent tears, more on her chin and a brighter bindi resting between her brows. She had horns, small and curling from the back of her head, of whorled ruby red crystals twined with obsidian and carnelian heated with the hint of flames dancing. Pointed ears twitched delicately at him and her hands were not covered in gloves but were actually pitch black with ruby red markings coiling her fingers, her nails sharp dark talons.
The seer was a rather exotic fierce creature, rather than the demure widow she appeared as to the world at large. But for those who knew him, Llyw might remind him of Jericho in many of the traits she showed. And for the moment she was too caught up in a sense of success, of discovery...and of new urgency rising from that cauldron of fury in her demanding its revenge. Another step towards her ultimate goal, to break the Curse and the one who cast it. Llyw was being dragged too deep into her fever to manage much self control, the Absinthe pouring too strong a drink even for her usual habits.
Dazed and feverish, fair skin overtaken by a deepening flush from the honeyfire sweet heat she gave off, she gasped, "Ah...yes...I ...shan't ..drink more..." Whether a few minutes might be needed before any further business could be discussed was yet a question to add to the questions of her true appearance if the eldest brother wished to ask. He might take a guess on collateral at this point however...
[14:36] Llywellynn Devoreaux (llywellynndevoreaux): *lines of silver
As her glamour fell, he smiled at her, taking in all the details. She did remind him of Jericho in a manner, but he wrote that off as the influence of being partners, or perhaps the same race of beings. "Your form is quite beautiful m'lady, if I may say. Almost, ...dragon-like. Maybe that's why you are so fiery?" He tapped his claws on the glass in his hand. "The green fairy has a way of sneaking up on one. I recall sitting in a cafe once, sipping with many others, all artists of some kind - the place was a bit of a flop house honestly, but I very much enjoyed the free spirited folk that gathered there, us in our coat and tie, ladies in their finery, most of us with a sprig of green adorned on the breast lapel. I once wore a bit of moss pinned on a crushed velvet jacket. That, was a hit with the lads for some reason." He laughed a bit to himself as the memory floated back to him, and he took another healthy sip. "But that was a long time ago in a place far away. Nothing like that needed on this island." he mused to himself and swirled what was left in the glass around.
Llyw was showing more sides of herself during this meeting than perhaps either had anticipated, but frankness had already been established by the eldest brother. She didn't have time to waffle about so many things and truly so many things just didn't matter when put in the balance scales against the uncertain remaining span of one's life.
As long as Llyw didn't stand up, she would probably be fine. She was a practiced drunk, generally able to carry on as if she were sober...until she had to get to her feet..or had to make any important decisions. The dulling of the pain however was worth any embarrassment for at least a few minutes as she rested on the couch, curling against the cushions in her inhuman splendor more comfortably in the warm buzz of her senses.
The Empath might have picked up on the background noise of what she suffered as it colored everything she felt. A lava field that lay under everything she was, glinting in her eyes, seething under her skin, sparking every nerve, running through her bones. She was in the process of immolation by the slowest most agonizing degrees imaginable...and yet somehow she managed to function, stubborn to the utmost, clinging to her existence tenacious to the end.
Yet sitting next to the accursed seer for long enough to give his other eye(s) time to look into her, would reveal a suggestion of a dark and cold snakelike shadow that coiled around and through her, something that distinctly radiated Malice, ripping through her on some arcane level the Empathic Mage might sense. The fire in her wasn't what was trying to kill her, though that was debatable. The Curse was a separate thing...an actual entity, a watchful furious intelligence that Drystan's powers might now be able to discern.
For the Lady however she was suddenly lost to shyness again, the elder brother's compliment making her suddenly aware and acutely self aware that she was unveiled. Her face turned beet red to nearly match her rubies and she nearly hid behind her hands. For the moment much of her gravitas of station was lost in the haze, making her seem much younger than she was, but her world weariness was not from life experience but rather much tragedy and suffering perhaps.
She just shook her head, flames flickering on her horns, "Y...you flatter me..." She stammered a little having lost all poise and composure for a moment more until the buzz might ease off. She listened to Drystan bring up a fond memory as a way to let her wait out the Absinthe's influence, her curiosity flaring upon Drystan for better or worse, studying him more closely with her insightful gaze, saying whatever rolled off her tongue now, rather wistful, "That...sounds like...a grand adventure...I'd love to hear...your stories of such things sometime....If you ...don't mind, of course..."
Both of their portfolios lay open on the table ready for review and discussion, but perhaps a few more minutes might be needed for the Lady to stop thinking about how lovely all the siblings looked, even in their inhuman true forms from beyond, especially the one sitting next to her now who had chosen to be so kind and helpful to her. Kindness was all that mattered to her after all, the giving and taking of it. She smiled at him blushing and feverish, smelling of sweet honeysuckle and winter fires burning hot.