The Blooming Mage (Abandoned?)

The Ancient Ruins

"Oh, I saw that Tiefling earlier walking to a half-crumbled building." Taeral mentioned.

The smile on Ancash's lips widened. "Oh yeah. He'll be fun to beat around. Can't have some half-demon getting too high and mighty. Don't want someone like him making another event like that apocalypse in Sige." He said with a smirk.

Ancash moved aside his cloak as a pair of red draconic wings sprouted from his back. He flapped them once, sending snow flying up around them. "Better keep him humble."

Taeral smirked as wind began to gather under him, making him hover slightly above the ground. "Better keep him fearful of the power of any proper mage." He added with a smirk.

***

Bloom wandered around, what he soon discovered, to be a dilapidated library. Either every book within it's tipped over and broken shelves had been completely destroyed to the point of illegibility, or all the ones that could be deciphered had already been taken by the excavators.

Nonetheless, Bloom still wandered around the shelves to occasionally pick up a book that had been partially decomposed only for it to, quite literally, turn to dust in his hand.

He held a faint orb of glowing light that hovered above his hand. Every now and again he would nearly trip on a broken shelf of chunk of tiled stone that jutted from the ground and suddenly lose his concentration on the lightsource. By which he then had to re-cast the simple spell. Most mages could focus on multiple of the undulating floating bulbs of light and even control them independently. But Bloom could only control one as long as it stayed close to his body.

Bloom glanced up to a book that suddenly was swept from the ground by a gust of wind that caused it to get tossed into the air, partially tear apart, and fall to the stoney floor like a pile of sand.

Bloom glanced at the red-beaded bracelet on his arm that nearly blended with his dark red skin. A light smile fell on his face as he began to fiddle with the beads.

Each bead had a small rune on it written in what his mother referred to as 'gentle infernal'. A category of the infernal language that relied more on the melding together of words than the guttural grunts and snarls of the traditional infernal language.

He knew this type of language more than real infernal due to the fact his mother had always taught him the language in his youth. She'd called it "our own secret language".

Bloom turned the beads in his hands, mentally reading the small runes that layered each bead into a phrase. "Bloom like a brilliant flower, and make even the coldest nights feel of the warmest spring; Love, Mom."

Bloom smiled solemnly at the sentence. It was the reason for his virtue-name after all. In reality, his name was Malron, but, as is tradition for tieflings upon coming-of-age, he was free to choose a virtue-name that was of utmost importance to any tiefling.

Suddenly, he heard a pair of footsteps behind him, along with the loud creek of wood as a piece of a shelf flew past his horns. He turned around quickly to see both Ancash and Taeral walking toward him. The elf, of which, had a large chunk of broken wood hovering above his raised hand.

Bloom cursed under his breath as the orb of light blinked away into nothing. "We aren't doing this today alright." He shouted to them, taking a step back.

Ancash just shrugged as the smile grew evermore on his face. "I don't know what you mean. We're just wandering around and just-so-happened to run into you." He chuckled.

"Doesn't rectify why Taeral just tried to hit me with a shelf." Bloom gestured his head to the elf.

Ancash threw back his head and laughed. "Oh don't be more of an idiot then you are. If he wanted to give you a concussion with a piece of wood he wouldn't've missed." He threatened.