Exotic Taste
...
I'm back with some Guild Wars 2 Drabbles! You didn't all think I could just abandon all my characters to a dull existance inside the living story, did you? Beware, some pairings are strange and DEFINITELY not common, or canon, in some cases. You have been warned. That being said, all the same, I hope you enjoy my little mini stories, and If you have a chance, feel free to read my story Purpose, which follows a few of the characters that I write about in here.
...
Hanven Stormsson was pretty sure he had been hallucinating the first time he'd ever seen a sylvari. He had been around his tenth year, playing around in the forrest near the great mountain peaks of Wayfarer hills, keeping close enough to home to run in case any of Jormag's minions attacked, but far enough to feel independent and adventurous. His family didn't travel much, nor did they socialize with their nearest neighbors often, nearly ten miles North and West of them. News came slow to their part of the world, and Hanven's parents liked it that way. They would say it kept Hanven out of trouble, until the time was right for trouble to come his way. At any rate, his playing was interrupted when a cold breeze ran through, stopping him cold at the recognition of temperature and weather change.
He quickly scooped up his fox kit, whom had been loping around in the deep snow happily, and sloshed through the uneven powder snow as quickly as his legs would allow him towards home. He could hear the skittering of icicles and knew that some of the corrupted elementals had found their way to his home again.
The snow's texture made it difficult for Hanven to maneuver through it, slowing him down as he tried valiantly to run to safety. But he could still hear them drawing ever closer to him.
The fox kit whimpered and he gritted his teeth, looking for something to use as a bludgeon, or any kind of weapon really. He was much better with a bow and arrow, but there was no time for him to get his own, and making one on the spot was out of the question. He spotted a jagged log poking out of the fresh snow and quickened his pace, forcing himself to breath carefully and not panic.
And then... he tripped.
Looking back on it, Hanven found it almost comical that he'd fallen flat on his face when he needed steady feet. Pleased to say, however, that he didn't just stay planted, instead immediately reaching his arms forward and pulling his weight forward, nudged on by his foxes little nose. He grasped the log firmly and yanked as hard as he could, whipping it out and smacking it against the hard frontal plate of the elemental. The creature stumbled back slightly, twisting it's head piece angrily with a strange clicking noise emenating from it's chest as it reared its arms above Hanven's chest. Hanven gritted his teeth and forced himself to move, well, to roll, really, away from the creature's trajectory, finding himself narrowly avoiding the ice-shard spear by mere inches. He scrambled to his feet and swung the crude weapon again, this time aiming for the elemental's head, luckily making enough contact to send the thing's head spinning, but also enough to snap the branch into splinters.
He took off running again, followed closely by his kit, rushing for the door to his home, only several yards away, when he heard a strange whistleing sound come into contact with a clashing that could only mean one thing. Hanven turned back and stopped when he realized a figure had come and sliced the creature to literal pieces, it's jagged heap of a corpse littering the landscape. Hanven looked at his impromptu savior, and titled his head. The thing that had saved him was odd, to say the least. Human in size and build, almost eerily so. And clad in plated armor like a human.
However, this creature was... plant-like. It's head was a brash of thorns and it's skin was a strange brownish tan of a stripped bark-oak, with green accents across the broadened spaces of skin that were visable. It's eyes- His eyes- Hanven noted while looking at the general anatomy, were a vibrant green, and his gaze was kind, not dangerous or intimidating.
"I assume you and the elemental weren't really all that friendly?" The plant-man asked jovially, sheathing his dual blades and stepping away from the broken pile as if it weren't even there. "If I may be so bold, I am Laranthir. I am travelling towards Lion's Arch, and found myself here aS it seems, just the right moment." Hanven just nodded, his mouth opened slightly.
Laranthir seemed confused, before chuckling in chagrin, scratching at his head.
"I do suppose you've never come into contact with a sylvari before." Laranthir stated. Hanven shook his head, closing his mouth.
"Is that what you are?" Hanven asked, his curiousity overwhelming.
"Yes, It is what my people are called." Laranthir said. "I am just one of many. Well, becoming many I suppose. We were few not too long ago." Hanven's eyes scrunched togethr closely as he scrutinized the plant-man.
"So you are not a friend to the Ice-Dragon?" He asked hesitantly. The warrior chuckled.
"No my friend, I can't say that I am." He replied. "In actuality, you could say I've sort of... received a calling to oppose the dragons. Rather indirectly, but even so, a calling nevertheless."
"Then may Raven bless you with wisdom, and Bear with strength." Hanven said, bowing slightly. "I'm indebted to you for ending the elemental's life. It would have attempted to destroy my home, and would have called for reinforcement if it hadn't been silenced so quickly."
"I've dealt with a few dragon minion's before." Laranthir said ruefully. "Tell me, you don't look proficient with that stick you were wielding. What is it you usually use?"
"A bow and arrow." Hanven answered proudly. "A good a shot as any, you can ask around." Laranthir laughed and nodded his head.
"I don't doubt it." He reached into his bag and pulled out a tiny sack, walking over to Hanven and holding it out until he grasped it.
"The next time you come across one of those, try dipping your arrow in that powder." He suggested, adjusting the bag on his back. "It sends a shock of heat through their nervous system... in a sense. Incapacitates them long enough to get in a good shot." Hanven looked up at Laranthir with wonder.
"Thanks, that's mighty kind of you." Hanven told him honestly. Laranthir smiled, tipping his head slightly in a goodbye-gesture, and made his way West towards Lion's Arch.
...
"Bryna Cloud, I'll be damned!" Hanven smiled jovially at the fiery red-headed Norn, who was pacing through the city of Hoelbrak impatiently near a waypoint, her blue eyes reading off dangerously to anyone who came too close. When she caught his eye, she sighed and a slight smile made it's way to her face.
"Hanven, it's been too long." She said, grasping arms with him in comraderie. "How have you been?"
"None the worse for wear, I've heard about your exploits with the undead Dragon. Might I say, quite an accomplishment for you."
"For anyone who participated, I think." Bryna deflected tactfully. "Though all the true credit likely goes to none other than the Commander of the Pact."
"Oh?" Hanven asked, scratching his head lightly. "I feel like I've heard the name somewhere..." The waypoint flashed at that moment, and a finely dressed Sylvari stepped off the platform, her pale green skin glistening in the Hoelbrak lighting. Hanven watched as Bryna stepped towards her swiftly, lifting her into her arms and spinning, their embrace intimate and private. Bryna swiftly kissed the sylvari's head, and then led her to the Norn male who had watched the encounter with wide eyes.
"Hanven, this is Eileria." She said, gesturing to the tall sylvari. "She is the Commander of the Pact, and a true Dragon Slayer. I've asked her to come here to participate in our cultural bonding ceremony." Hanven couldn't help but smile, then laughed.
"Well I truly will be damned!" He said. "Congratulations to the both of you! No finer a mate for Bryna then a Dragon Slayer!" He swore, if the Commander could, she'd have lit into flames at the chagrin. As it was, her bioluminescence seemed to nearly radiate from her body, and she averted her eyes, mumbling about "group effort" and "great sacrifice."
"No time to be humble now, Eileria." Hanven said holding out his arm. "You should know, we Norn have a way about us. Our exploits are our legacy. Yours has earned you the respect of all of us here. It feeds us hope for the future. A future without dragons." Eileria nodded, sending a small smile his way. He smiled back and then turned his attention to Bryna.
"That's a fine choice you've made there, Bryna." He said as Eileria stepped away to speak to one of the merchants. "Not only a strong one, but lovely too."
"An odd choice, I was told." Bryna stated quietly, glancing at her lover. "But... she is special. Strong. Wise. Don't get any ideas Hanven. I won't hesitate to beat you out again." Hanven laughed in chagrin, scratching the back of his head in embarassment. He wouldn't cross Bryna twice.
"Ah well, perhaps I'll have to find my own Sylvari to woo, eh?" Bryna chuckled and rolled her eyes.
"Must you copy everything I do?" She asked, tugging Eileria close to her side. "I think you just envy me and my life." Hanven boomed in laughter, and shrugged his shoulders.
"One must emulate that which they wish to be." He said, recanting one of Raven's teachings. Bryna nodded, smiling, and Eileria shyly turned a smile his way as well.
...
Aelith could sense that someone was staring at her long before she turned to look at them.
It was something she'd learned, in a sense, during her time in the mists. Even though her eyes were cloaked by a shield of darkness, her other senses were sharper, stronger. She knew when an enemy was near, and could tell the difference between friend or foe purely by the steps of their gait. Thusly, she too knew when someone was taking due, or undue, interest in her.
Despite being a revenant, Aelith wouldn't have described herself as unapproachable. Most of her comrades in arms were just that, many being humans or Charr, their instincts and personality molded by the ascalonian ghosts and creatures that lurked in the mists. But she, as a sylvari, saw little to nothing to shape her negatively. It was all for the peace of Tyria, nothing more.
She sighed to herself, wondering if the person was ever going to stop staring at her.
She may not have been unapproachable, but she did still have a slight temper.
"Can I assist you?" She asked, spinning around on her heel and bearing down on the man who stared. She was surprised, it was a Norn male. She couldn't make out his coloring without her eyes exposed, but she could see his aura just fine. Tall, burly but muscular and well built. Fit. Athletic. Strong. She had so many words she could use to describe him. Proud. She could tell by the posture he held. Kind. His eyes were nearly smouldering with kindness. She was startled, to say the least, and wasn't sure how she was going to respond to anything he replied to her with. The Norn stood and Aelith felt even smaller than she was, and she was by no accounts a small sylvari, reaching a height of six feet even. (Though, she boasted nothing on Eileria, Commander of the pact, who had a height of six extra inches to her height.)
But this Norn, he was tall, likely eight, perhaps even nine feet. She couldn't be sure, and when he stood, his whole demeanor commanded respect. Demanded attention. His aura shined brightly enough to attract her attention, but not enough to be overwhelming.
Interrupting her pondering, she heard a slight snuffling around her feet and peered down, surprised to see a well-worn fox, his big ears perked up and big eyes scrutinizing her curiously.
"It looks like Venleihn likes you." The Norn said, his voice a pleasant baritone, warm and friendly. He had an eyebrow quirked up in amusement, likely a product of her irritable tone.
"Is that his name?" She asked, reaching down to scratch behind the foxes ear. The Norn man chucked, shrugging.
"It is, though sometimes I think he prefers it if I just call him Ven." He admitted. Aelith smiled slightly, then turned away from the fox and back to the tall man.
"I'm sorry for my rudeness a moment ago." She said quietly. "I'm just not accustomed to staring."
"I must apologize as well." The Norn admitted, scratching the back of his head in chagrin. "I've been told before I can be too intense when I stare, and that one day the very mists would come to pull me into them." Aelith started for a moment, but then began to laugh.
"Indeed, the very mists were intruiged by your gaze." She offered. He chucked in reply, then leaned down on his haunches to pat his fox happily.
"It isn't entirely my fault." He told her, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "You are quite the sight to behold." Aelith tensed up a bit, her bioluminescence brightening in embarrassment. The Norn smiled knowingly.
"Have you never seen a sylvari before?" She asked, hedging and trying to calm her sudden nerves.
"Oh, I've seen a few, here or there." He admitted. He stood again, towering over her, but not in an intentionally imposing manner. "But, by the spirits, I've never felt more amazed by something so beautiful." Aelith opened her mouth to reply, but closed it instead. She glowed so brightly, it was as if it were night.
"I... uhm... Thank you." She stammered, wondering where her nerve had disappeared to.
"I hope you don't find me rude for asking." He said to her, closing the short distance between them, and placing his hands right over her face mask, though not actually touching her. Aelith looked up and her eyes widened, as she beheld a tribal necklace he wore, a strange symbol etched upon the plate that she'd only seen once before.
An image appeared in her head, of her dream. Before she'd awakened. Before she'd been alive in the dusk. An image of a star, slashed across by a ferocious claw, emblazoned on weathered metal pockmarked with age. The very same that she could see the outline of through her senses.
"Who are you?" She asked, as he lifted her eye-shield off, exposing her eyes to the world again, one she hadn't seen in such a long time.
"I am called Hanven Stormsson." He said gently. Aelith lifted her eyes to his, and was immediately enraptured by their hazel medley of colors. She stared, and she felt his palm cradle her face, and she closed her eyes, allowing the warmth to radiate through her cheek.
"I am Aelith, of Dusk." She replied, openening her eyes to gaze at him again. Hanven smiled and she felt, somewhere deep within her, that sometimes, staring wasn't all that bad.
...
His friends had made fun of him, saying he had exotic taste.
If only they knew.
That a charcoal colored sylvari, with evergreen tints and eyes akin to emeralds, hair twisting vines in a braid so intricate it was like art, was exactly within his taste.
...
Thank you for reading this little short drabble! I started something similar with Warcraft characters, but I love Guild Wars 2 pretty equally, so I decided to start one for GW2 while I was out on deployment. More than likely, you'll see quite a few chapters come up all at once. They are in no particular order, nor do they follow any particular set timeline. They just occur, when they occur. Happen as they happen. So enjoy them! :)
