PlaneShift
Fan Area => Roleplaying (Communitive Storywriting) => Topic started by: Mariana Xiechai on September 12, 2011, 06:52:33 pm
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She would never understand why the Red Way mage chose to perform his practice in Ojaveda.
Or, frankly, why he chose to continually ignore her and refused to acknowledge her at all at this level in her training.
“So…the next step in the apprenticeship would be…?” Mariana inquired, her paws placed lightly on her hips as she watched the mischievous mage fiddle with some glyphs.
No response, save for an exasperated sigh and the continual, steady hum of glyph purification.
Mariana grumbled something under her breath that was probably not altogether appropriate before turning on her heel and heading for the main part of the dusty city. She shook her head and alleviated some of the sand that had settled in her fur. That was another thing…for a species coated in so much fur, why was Ojaveda inhabited by Enkidukai? How in Yliakum had that come about?
Of course, she hadn’t grown up in the town; full of peddlers hawking wares and the cloying, arid heat. And it did have its own amount of charm. A close environment, she supposed. One that was always full of character and personality; thriving with life in the midst of a harsh environment.
The fenki sneezed as a gust of wind assaulted her and sent particles of dirt into her nose. She rubbed it from her eyes and squinted a bit, entering the doorway that led to the trading post. She’d unburden herself and make the long trek back to Hydlaa. No use staying here anymore anyway.
Mariana’s eyes landed on a familiar face. The dermorian rounded the corner and offered a slight wave, so she returned the gesture, smiling a bit. Pentrian seemed rather quiet, but also uninjured, which, from her limited experience with the quirky elf, was saying quite a bit.
They began some small talk, mostly asking how the other was doing; the usual jabber that accompanied a random encounter. Mariana’s attention deviated slightly as she noticed movement to her left, and another dermorian settled himself against the wall, observing with bright green eyes.
She arched a brow at the newcomer and dipped her head in greeting, offering her usual, cordial smile. He returned it, some of his hair tumbling down in front of his eyes with the motion.
This one needs a haircut, Mariana couldn’t help but think. Nice face though.
And he did have a nice face. A sort of rugged look, but certainly not unattractive. The typical high cheekbones of an elf complimented by a rather long, lean sort of structure that melded nicely into a strong chin. There was a strange, convoluted sort of tattoo on his neck that was about as red as his hair. It disappeared into his tunic, so she had no idea how far it went.
Wouldn’t have picked that color, She thought. It doesn’t…fit right.
“Hello there, dermorian brother,” Mariana said brightly. She smiled again, revealing her somewhat pointed canines.
“Hello,” The elf replied; a slight lift in his lips as if he was amused by the overly friendly address.
“What brings you to Ojaveda on this wonderfully sweltering day?” She inquired. She was curious. Why, she honesty didn’t have the fuzziest clue. She just was.
Pentrian bid them farewell suddenly and trod off towards the exit, leaving her to face the other dermorian alone. She tilted her head a bit, watching him as he sunk the end of his crystal way staff into the dust and began to draw a myriad assortment of random images with it.
“Just making a delivery with Brado,” he replied finally, his eyes fixed on the design.
Mariana tried to make sense of the pattern, but couldn’t manage to. She raised her eyes back to examine the elf anew.
“Ah, well. Are you…new to the dome?” She asked him, somewhat baffled by his demeanor. Not a very talkative fellow, it seemed.
The elf glanced up at her suddenly, and his expression seemed to mingle again with amusement. Her brow furrowed a bit. She felt like maybe he found her amusing, and probably not in a flattering way.
“Relatively,” he said, flashing another smile. “I tend to travel a lot,” and he gestured towards the tell-tale smudges of clay on his tunic and trousers. “Though I haven’t run into that many friendly sorts, truthfully.”
Mariana frowned at this admonition. “You’ve been given a lot of trouble then?” She asked. Her eyes instantly trailed over him, down his torso and legs, then back to his face again in an assessing way that suggested she was looking for signs of injury. He didn’t appear to be carrying any weaponry save for that staff, and likely in a fight, that wouldn’t win much.
“No, not a great amount,” the elf replied. He glanced back down at his design again.
Mariana blinked a few times, her tail swishing for a moment before curling around her wrist.
“Name’s Mariana,” she said finally. “You are…?”
“Erythros,” He replied. “Good to meet you, Mariana.”
Erythros suddenly moved his foot and scattered dust over the drawing he’d been painstakingly weaving into the sand. He leaned on his staff a bit and looked back up at the fenki, his eyes glittering with an expression she couldn’t read.
“Good to meet you as well!” She said brightly. She smiled again, her own curiosity and mild frustration hidden behind a mask of warmth and friendliness. “Who have you been having trouble with?” She pressed.
Poor little elf will get squashed if he keeps on alone, probably, Mariana thought.
A rather amusing thought in itself, considering that the fenki only came to Erythros’s shoulder in height.
“Nobody in particular, the world is full of unfriendly and friendly sorts,” Erythros said. “I’m alright, I assure you. I’m used to a little confrontation.”
Mariana’s ear twitched a bit. “You may be used to it, but that doesn’t mean you should have to be. You seem nice enough; I see no reason why you should be harassed.”
Erythros watched her with something that looked like a guarded expression. His eyes unnerved her in a way, and something rang in her head like a little warning bell. She squelched it. There was no need for that, he’d done nothing wrong. She was just overly paranoid because of memories that had nothing to do with him…
“That’s quite a bit of praise, considering you’ve only just met me. You don’t really know anything about me, Mariana.” Erythros regarded her further, studying her, watching her.
Mariana fidgeted like an insect stuck in a Petri dish.
Gods damnit, what? Do I have dust on my nose?!
She reached up and subconsciously rubbed her nose with the tips of her fingers.
“I think one can tell a lot about a first encounter. You seem amiable enough to me.” Her lips twitched with false humor as her mind riled against the elf’s overly studious examination. “Amiable enough to not warrant attack.”
Inwardly, she was already groaning.
Oh, wonderful, She thought. The mysterious, ‘I’m not as I appear’ type.
“Perhaps not,” he replied with a slight smile. “Still, you should take more time to get to know someone before you make such a judgment.”
Mariana simply shook her head, chuckling softly. “Fair enough,” she relented. “Still, should you need help, I’m willing. Can’t have you get beaten to a bloody pulp now, can we?”
Erythros watched her with quiet, almost sad eyes. It was the sadness that caught her, and she wondered at it, not understanding it at all.
Did I say something wrong? She wondered.
“Thank you for your kind offer,” he said softly. “I should continue with my errands, however. I’ll see you around, Mariana.”
He raised his hand in silent dismissal and walked off towards the trading post, leaving the fenki staring after him with a mingle of bewilderment and irritation.
What incredible social graces I possess, She berated herself inwardly as she walked off towards the path leading to Hydlaa, her metal armor glinting in the sunlight.
Erythros watched her from around the corner for a while, until that telling gleam disappeared behind the doorway. He pulled his hood back over his eyes, hiding the contemplative expression that had taken over his features, and strode into the trading post in silence.
~~
[Been thinking about turning this RP into a writing for some time, as it's probably one of the most entertaining one's I've had so far in the game. More to come when I have the time to do it. My thanks for reading ^_^ Also if you can come up with a title I'd appreciate it <.<]
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How about: "A Little Confrontation"
taken directly from:
“Nobody in particular, the world is full of unfriendly and friendly sorts,” Erythros said. “I’m alright, I assure you. I’m used to a little confrontation.”
you know, if you're into title drops.
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The reason she might have been so hot was because SHE'S WEARING FULL ARMOR IN THE DESERT.
Liked the story though, was interested in how... that whole thing came about.
*Travosh smacks Mari for being dumb about it
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;D
She's been hit on the head a lot in her lifetime, she deserves to have a dumb moment every now and then xD
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She’d never been particularly fond of taverns. Too many bodies all crowded together; the sound of the ever-present drunken dwarf that had had more than his fair share of ale; and of course, the tavern brawls.
The ever-present tavern brawls. One would think that after so many folks would come to the realization that, shockingly, they really didn’t help anything in the end. But, obviously, this revelation was above the grasp of some people.
Or maybe the level of intoxication directly corresponded to the rising level of stupidity.
And people wonder why I never drink, She thought.
Mariana looked down at her mug of non-alcoholic cider and swirled some of the foam with her finger. She watched it dissolve slowly into the amber liquid. With her claw, she scraped some more of the residue into the drink and then focused on it, letting her paws radiate the warmth of red way and bringing the draft to a more satisfying temperature.
Thankfully it seemed fairly quiet in the familiar Hydlaa tavern this evening. She turned her head to the side a bit and slid some tria over the worn wooden bar towards Allelia, smiled and nodded to the typically stressed out bar tender, and made her way down the stairs towards the basement.
Mariana eased herself into a bench near the fire and let its warmth wash over her. She closed her eyes and held her drink between her paws, her brow furrowed tellingly in thought. Her foot moved up to rest on the table with a hollow, metallic thud. She crossed the other over her ankle and her head canted off to the side. It bobbed a few times and she fought sleep; lured to it by the warm cider in her belly and the heat wafting towards her from the fire. Finally, her chin slowly dipped towards the collar of her metal armor, and she was pulled almost forcibly into dreaming.
~~
She didn’t even hear Erythros descend the stairs; his feet made barely even the slightest sound upon them. And that’s saying quite a bit, considering the relative instability and creaky nature of those ancient beams.
Erythros slid quietly into the seat across from Mariana and examined the Enkidukai in front of him. Still plastered in that heavy looking plate mail, it seemed. Her whiskers quivered a bit and she appeared to be half-asleep, or perhaps her mind was roaming far more than he could imagine.
You don’t look quite so boisterous without that mask on, He pondered. Actually, she looked quite vulnerable in sleep. She appeared almost distressed. This was further illustrated by the nervous twitch in her fingers. He noted it when he glanced briefly down at one of the paws wrapped around the mug of cider. For some reason, he wanted to reach out and sooth the motion with his hand.
The fenki’s bright blue eyes suddenly snapped open as if she’d smelled him, because he certainly hadn’t alerted her to his presence with anything more than that. She squinted and her eyes seemed to glimmer with a life of their own. Erythros watched her quietly for a moment, and then smiled at her.
“Hello again.”
Mariana looked at him with bleary eyes for a moment, like she was waiting for him to come into focus. Obviously he’d interrupted a nap and caught her off guard. She tilted her head slightly and one of her brows arched in a dubious expression.
“Hello Erythros,” she replied. “Good to see you again.”
The elf folded his hands on the table before him, setting his staff to lean against the edge of it so that he could situate himself more comfortably. His eyes moved over the finer details: The strange, delicately painted pattern on her forehead, the little filigree-like speckles of gold radiating from her pupils, and the abnormal, gray patch of skin where her fur seemed much more scuffed and ragged than the rest, protruding just past her armor at the edge of her wrist…
Mariana suddenly pushed her cider to the side and slide her paw so that she could rest the other over the strange scar. She met his eyes in an almost stoic way, though he could tell from the set of her jaw and the expression in her own eyes that she really did not like his inspection.
That’s interesting.
Erythros tried a disarming smile, and he spoke softly to her. Of course, that wasn’t anything entirely new. His voice was always soft.
Useful thing in my profession, He thought with a twinge of regret.
“How are you this evening?”
She blinked again. She seemed to regaining her senses now, coming out of the hazy fog that assailed the victims of sleep. Her face molded comfortably into a smile that traveled to her eyes. It suited her face nicely, he could see that. There didn’t seem to be anything particularly false or plastic about it, almost as if she was genuinely happy to see him.
That’s a nice change.
“I’m doing quite well, actually. Yourself? Get your deliveries done?” She took her drink back into her paws and sipped at it, but her tail remained stubbornly around her wrist.
“Well enough, all things considered,” he said, adding levity to his own voice. He leaned back a bit and moved to brush some of his auburn hair back behind his ears. “Yes, I did manage to finish the deliveries. Thank you for asking.”
“Not at all,” she replied. “Deliveries can be treacherous…and it always seems like they want you to move from one side of the dome to the other.”
Mariana flashed another smile at him. Maybe it was the openness of the expression that struck him, he couldn’t really place it, but he liked that smile. Liked it quite a bit, really. There was nothing flirtatious or false about it, nothing that had a hidden intention. It simply was an invitation to talk.
Erythros’ eyes fell to the badge resting on Mariana’s chest. For some reason he wanted to know a bit more about her, so he inquired as to its meaning.
“Ah…a guild badge,” She replied, her tone almost dismissive. “Recently joined, can’t say much about it yet.”
“What do you think a guild should stand for?” He asked suddenly.
The fenki frowned for a moment. He could almost see her thinking about a response, not questioning the seemingly random nature of his inquiry. After she’d mulled for a bit, she opened her mouth and gave a response.
“Cliché as it might sound; I think it should be about…helping people. Probably individuals that cannot help themselves. Keeping order in the midst of a chaotic world.” She raised a paw and waved it slightly. “That’s not always black and white, I know, but there are certain things that should always be avoided, like oppression, slavery, pointless murder…” She paused and rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t know, that just seems like a logical response, and one that I would tend to lean towards.”
Erythros kept his eyes on Mariana as she spoke. She talked with her paws a lot, something that amused him a bit. He also found it interesting that she hashed out a response without questioning it.
And no, keeping order is rarely black and white…
“Seems like an honorable enough undertaking,” he said simply. He couldn’t help but study the fenki further, his eyes moving towards the swords sheathed at her hips and the bracers latched to her forearms.
Pray for peace, prepare for war, is that it?
“Please stop doing that,” she muttered.
Erythros frowned slightly and glanced back up again. He fiddled with the clasp that held his emerald cloak upon his shoulders, observing that his gaze seemed to bother her. Perhaps she was interpreting it the wrong way?
She doesn’t want anyone to know what’s really going on in her head.
Which, unfortunately for her, only made him all the more curious. She appeared to be an idealist, but surely nobody was as openly honest and willing as her without getting hurt. Or at least learning from it and becoming a bit more withdrawn. It was like she threw trust out without prejudice. It was honestly rather refreshing in a way. He couldn’t say he didn’t like it.
“Well, Mariana. If you ever decide that you would recommend your guild to me, let me know,” he said lightly. He tugged his hood over his head and stood up abruptly, heading towards the stairs. “It was a…thought provoking conversation.”
“Always the best kind,” She replied simply, her voice mirthful and seemingly comfortable again. He looked at her and realized that her face was again the image of open contentment; that smile once more present upon it.
Interesting.
He turned and strode for the exit and into the rain.
[For now I'm paraphrasing this dialogue, as my chat was whiped when I got my computer repaired. I'm hoping I can get my hands on it later >.<]
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a very nice read. I hope there is more to come :)
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There is, I just REALLY wish I had a version of the chat that went on D:
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cider is alcoholic and contains about the same percentage of alcohol as beer, so mariana does "drink." :P
and this may sound creepy, but i may have some logs of mariana's chats with erythros... i AFK'd a lot in the tavern. <_< and i'm pretty sure sarras interrupted one or two of them. >_>
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Edit just for you Sarras, now it's NON alcoholic ;D
And creeper! No, but seriously. I'm hoping to get in contact with the person that was Ery, hopefully he can email it to me. Otherwise...more paraphrasing! Yay me!
[Thank you though.] \\o//
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To say that society often disgusted him was a grievously grotesque understatement. It was so fundamentally flawed at its core; so incredibly and irreversibly tarnished beyond repair, that when his mind roved over the idea he could feel bile rising in his throat. The greed and selfishness that permeated the hearts of nearly every living creature, whether sentient or otherwise, was utterly and abhorrently repulsive. They went at life as though they were ravenous Megaras descending upon unwitting prey; ebon wings splayed widely as their clawed feet sunk talons into its back...
Really, it was about cleansing. Certain people simply deserved to die. There was no reason for them to be around. They were to be loathed for their weakness, their defiance, their deceit, their arrogance. Surely their transgressions were punishable by death, were they not? Surely they had more than earned an impromptu trip into the hated Dark Lady's realm. They deserved to wander with their weeping and their twisting of anguished hands for a while; let them mull over their incredible state of insignificance.
Erythros really had no idea why he was reassuring himself of what he was already certain of. He peered out from the depths of his green cloak at the passersby, his booted feet hooked into the legs of the chair across from him. A simple glass of water perched on the table before him, and he moved to quench his thirst with it, his thoughts again tumbling one over the other in this stange and morbid display of self-assurance.
That's why I joined with the whisper; that's why I know I belong in it and why it owns my heart, He finished, physically nodding his head in affirmation. All doubts I have are simply obstacles that I shall eliminate in time.
It wasn't easy, it never was. He didn't enjoy the killing. Well, he did, when he thought about how it brought about the Whisper's wishes. He was the extension of that wonderful voice's will, and he cherished that feeling. The power would spread like an awareness in his mind, creeping into the deepest recesses and flowing down into his hands to allow him to carry out what he was meant to. It was persuasive too; a seductive sort of quality as though a woman were placing her hand upon his shoulder and whispering sweet directions into his ear.
Yes, he loved that whisper, and it loved his darkness in return. There was never any reason to doubt its purpose. Especially sitting here, in this mucky, refuse-infested tavern, watching as the people wandered in and out with their own pathetic interests in mind, exchanging tria for measly amounts of food with no consideration for the beggars that wandered the streets just outside...
"Well, what have we here?"
The chipper, affable voice crashed into his train of thought like crystalshine bursting through a blizzard. He jerked his eyes towards it, and they settled on the familiar woman standing off to his right. She smiled at him and raised her paw to offer a wave in greeting.
"Hello again, Erythros!" Mariana said.
And then there are the stubborn ones that simply refuse to conform to my perfectly set parameters...
"Hello yourself," Erythros said with a genuine chuckle. Here she was again, smiling brightly, acting as though nothing negative had ever dared lay a hand upon her. He could sense, of course, that this was untrue. Years of realizing and reacting to the responses of his--targets--had alloted him the ability to read body language well.
This fenki was hiding something. Erythros steepled his fingers and smiled knowingly, most of the expression hidden behind his hands.
"Mind if I have a seat with you?" Mariana asked him.
In reply, he simply gestured towards the empty side of the table. She slid smoothy into the chair opposite him just as he unhooked his feet and moved them beneath his own seat.
"How have you been, friend?" She inquired. She made a soft clinking sound when she sat, generated by her armor. It was an ever-present casing with her, he'd never seen her with it off. It hid her body perfectly, so the only real details he could make out were those present on her face.
Friend? That's a term I've not heard in some time.
He felt some chagrin as it sent a small amount of warmth to his heart.
Should have obliterated those feelings by now.
Erythros attempted to shrug off that niggling, unfortunate effect and shook his head slightly. "I've been well as can
be expected," he replied simply. "Yourself, Mariana?"
The fenki suddenly reached a paw over to her left shoulder and popped it. Loudly. Erythros winced visibly and stared at her.
"Heh, sorry," she said. "Habit." She grinned at him and did the same to the opposite shoulder, sliding her paw
into the small gap between the armor and her skin so that she could massage it a bit.
Might not be so bad if you just took that armor off now and then, fenki, Erythros thought. He frowned inwardly as he felt a bit of empathy and what some might even go so far as to call concern well up inside of him.
"Perhaps you should get that looked at," Erythros suggested softly.
Mariana shrugged lightly, withdrawing her paw once more. She waved it in a very dismissive way and shook her head.
"I'll be fine," she said. "So, those individuals that 'shall not be mentioned' still giving you troubles?"
Her observant eyes roamed over his face in a truly compassionate way. They shifted to the tattoo on his neck and he could see a bit of hesitation in her expression as she wondered at it. They trailed back up again, back to his eyes, and she
emphasized her question by raising a brow.
"Well?"
Why do you care, Mariana?
Because she did. He couldn't even try to finagle a way out of this fact. She cared.
You shouldn't, Mari. You really, really shouldn't care. I deserve every bit of scorn that is inflicted upon me, I...
Erythros' train of thought came to an almost shattering stop as another voice entered his head. It was sweet and
encouraging; gentle and alluring. It stroked at him, almost seeming to toy with him, and it was very very upset
with the way he was berating his actions.
"Come now, my sweet. You're hurting my feelings," it murmured, and he sighed as it washed over his doubts like a tide.
"You know why we do what we do. We are powerful and strong so long as we are one and we are together. Don't let this little harlot come between us. You know how much that would injure me."
His heart seemed to tighten in his chest, as though the whisper were displaying its emotional turmoil over his doubt
in a tangible, physical way. He would have gasped, but he'd become used to this twisted display of affection by now, and outwardly his face maintained a carefully constructed image of neutrality.
Forgive me, He replied. I shall never doubt you.
The voice chuckled lightly, resonating in his head like a tolling bell. "That's my favorite pet, " it cooed joyously.
It seemed to grow closer in proximity, though this was really not possible because there was no bodily manifestation of it, and tickled at his ear with soothing words that dripped with beguiling sincerity. "Now you go out there and make me proud, lover."
~~
Mariana watched Erythros's eyes. She watched them closely, attentively. And she saw it plain as day, right there in the dim tavern lighting.
The dermorian's eyes flashed red. The vibrant and stark coloring clotted his corneas for the briefest of instances, but she saw it. She leaned back in her chair in wonder, but not fear. Fear helped nothing. It compromised one's ability to act, and as such, was always meant to be avoided. Besides, maybe she had been mistaken? The lighting in here really was atrocious, and it was possible he had gone quite a while without sleep. That turned some eyes pretty red, she knew from experiance.
The fenki moved her paw in front of Erythros' face and snapped her fingers at him.
"Hello? Come on back to the dome there, buddy. That's it. Hi!"
Erythros' expression almost instantly melded into amusement. One moment it was blank, the next it was obviously
finding a great deal of humor in her actions.
Well, good, damnit, She thought. Cheer up you mopey son of a trepor.
"You alright my friend?" She inquired, shooting him a smirk. "I thought I'd lost you!"
Erythros laughed openly this time, his eyes as deep an emerald as the leaves on the trees outside of Harnquist's smithy.
Must have been my imagination, then, She mused.
The elf reached out and gulped down the last of his water. He carefully wiped his mouth with his hand, covering his smile for a moment, before standing to his feet and scooting his chair back with a soft scraping upon the wooden floor.
His gaze moved towards the exit and then back again, and he dipped his head, that ever-present halo of red hair tumbling in front of his face.
"I should be going. I'll see you around, Mariana," he said simply.
Mariana watched as he strode swiftly through the door and dissapeared around the corner without another word.
[So nothing much happened in this, but I'm trying to set up how I'm going to display the dynamic between Erythros the character and the menacing "whisper" (Insert Mwah hahaha as deemed appropriate.) Also, is it bad that I like looking over the shoulder of the "villain" more than over the shoulder of my own character? ::|]
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Erythros laughed openly this time, his eyes as deep an emerald as the leaves on the trees outside of Harnquist's smithy.
If we go relative to quality settings, he has some dull arse eyes. ;D
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;D It's true. We'll just have to use our imaginations
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is it bad that I like looking over the shoulder of the "villain" more than over the shoulder of my own character? ::|]
there may be a corresponding reason I find myself playing Icerra more often than Aramara these days.
maybe not a whole lot of action, but the opening of this one was great at capturing my attention and keeping me interested all the way through. Also it helps being involved in this RP further down the line, and it's nice to get a glimpse of the beginnings.
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Yeah, lots of people eventually ended up getting involved in this RP, which is part of the reason why I found it so enjoyable. I just hope I can portray all of the characters accurately X-/
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That one with the Black Flame threatening the DoX, in a nutshell.
I've a favor to ask. If you have logs of your characters talking about the black flame incident that this story is centered around, or interacting with Erythros/Mariana dealing with the issue, would you mind sending (pming) them to me? This would basically just be if it were with Mariana, mainly, because all my chat is whiped and I'd like to tell the story from different angles. Thanks! :love:
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skimming my logs for instances of your name, I'd forgotten our first meeting was because the whole Miomai fight with Fyrre and Barike! Good times. Hehe, here's the first instance your name appears in my logs:
">One-Eyed Rat has been killed by Mariana Xiechai!"
and shortly thereafter, ">Mariana Xiechai has died!"
also I came across this, proof that Mariana does infact drink!:
"Mariana sips her wine and glances about, seeming deep in thought."
also also there was that whole episode where you got piss drunk and tried to burn your journal, but Mas and I stopped you.
I remember distinctly an episode with you and Erythros in the Den I'm looking for, it was cute.
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I only remember when Mari was flippin shiz looking for Erythros in the sewers, and Trav was doing crook things down there, and said he'd tell Ery to find you if he saw him.
He did find him, had like 4 words, then barely told him to go look for you. No fire or anything. :P
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Mariana tensed her body, poised in position as she lifted her muzzle a bit and sniffed the air. The cloying, tell-tale scent of blood assaulted her senses, coating the back of her throat and the inside of her muzzle with the warm and unnerving odor. She shivered and drew further into the shadows where she hid, waiting and watching to see what the results of her actions might be.
"WHERE IS SHE?!" The clamod menki roared at the cowaring form before him. His hand came down, fisted, into the side of the smaller enkidukai's head, sending the woman sprawling across the floor. Mariana cringed as she heard the sickening snap of breaking bone and a smothered, gurgled scream. But the fenki did not reply to the hulking man, despite his brutality. That was only because she did not know the answer to the question he so rabidly sought, however. If she did, she would have raised a trembling paw towards the location where Mariana crouched like the coward that she was,entrenched in her own spiraling panic and horror at what she was witnessing. She could make out her face from where she hid: the wide eyes clouded by terror, the split lip and swollen jaw, and the trail of blood that was slowly trickling down the side of her face from the ragged claws that had just been drawn across its length.
Mariana reached up and felt her own face, and hot tears began clog her throat and burn her eyes. She placed her paw against the trunk of the tree and then stepped closer to it, clinging to it as though it were her only friend.
I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, She repeated the mantra over and over in her head, as if she could send the thought out towards the woman by sheer force of will. But I have to get away, I have to get away, I can't turn back now...
She clamped her paw over her mouth to keep from crying out as the clamod delivered another blow to the fenki's jaw, sending her flying head over heels and collapsing in an unconcious heap. Kredrian, her tormentor and the man who was now brutalizing a fellow victim of his accursed cult, knelt down and picked up the body that he had just abused and cradled it in his arms with a heavy sigh.
He raised his black eyes to the night, peering through the darkness as though he could see her. She knew she was safe; she'd picked this vantage many many months ago, had planned this escape for over a year. But still, those eyes sent a chill down her spine that reverberated through her body and out towards her teeth. She had to clench them to keep them from chattering as the inky, icy fear dug like a parasitic leach into her heart.
"I'm going to find you, lovely," Kredrian said, holding the other fenki in his arms. "I'm going to find you, and I'll bring you home again."
Something snapped inside of Mariana, something that sent a flood of burning, vengeful passion into soul. Her vision seemed tinged with red, and suddenly she wished it was not the trace amount of blood she smelled from the fenki, but all of his, poured out on the ground and leaving little streams and rivulets in the dirt at her feet. The outrage only increased as memories flashed in her mind's eye, telling her of time and again when he'd beaten her, harmed those she would call friends, told her she was worthless and wretched and ungrateful and...
Mariana's fists balled against the tree as he turned towards one of the tents, lifted the flap, and stepped inside. She looked down at her frail, small form with bereft realization. She could do nothing to harm him. She was nothing next to him; a kikiri trying to assault an ulbernaut. He would crush her, and then he would force her to do whatever his bidding might be.
This conclusion only infuriated her more. She stepped erradically away from the tree and turned, fleeing into the night while she could trust the dim nature of the diminished crystal-light. Her breathing came in gasps and her heart pounded in her chest, but she ran farther, her bare feet hardly making a sound against the grass beneath them.
I'll get stronger, She told herself. I'll get so strong that no one can touch me. Nobody will ever touch me. I'll beat him. I'll beat them all, so that they'll never be able to hurt me again.
Mariana did what would help her survive. She encased herself, wound herself inside, into a tight, defensive knot. As she pounded through the night away from that wretched place, she was already planning what she would become.
I'll never be a coward again. I'll never stand by and do nothing while someone else suffers needlessly. I'll never show fear. I'll never cry.
Her heart grew colder and colder, heavier, like a stone. But there was determination in it, determination to become something that she could be proud of. Something that would leave Kredrian shaking like a leaf. To become someone that could stand over him and threaten to take his life, and then carry out that threat with effortless and swift precision.
The young fenki finally collapsed on the ground, exhausted from hours of running, and began to sob uncontrollably. She let her victory wash over her, and it overwhelmed her to the point of mindlessness, of speechlessness.
"I'm free," she whispered, her voice shaking and her brain almost rebelling against the idea out of fear that it would slip from her grasp. "I'm free, I'm free, I'm free..."
There was something wrong with the whole ordeal, something surreal and etheral and strange, as if she were wandering in a dream--
A voice sounded somewhere above her head. It was gentle, and it sounded concerned about her.
"Mariana? Mariana, hey. Mariana, you're dreaming. Are you there?"
A moment of silence, and then she saw the cracks and fissures in her surroundings as though she were trapped inside a glass cage.
"Wake up."
She jumped to her feet, then toppled back to her side, disoriented as her world slowly faded into nothingness around her.
~~
"Mariana?" Erythros reached out and tried to shake the fenki awake. She was muttering unintelligible words under her breath.
I wish I could understand what she's saying.
"Mariana, it's alright. Wake up. You're dreaming."
The dermorian slowly reached out to place his hand upon her shoulder. He shook her gently, trying to rouse her. His eyes wandered over her face, and saw only despondence.
She finally reacted the moment his hand touched the shoulder piece of her armor. She jumped, startled, and wrenched backwards in her chair, flailing to grab the edge of the table to keep herself from falling over backwards.
The expression that flashed through her eyes was bald, violent fear. She masked in immediately, seemed to cram it down as though she were holding her breath and jumping into water. Her head shook fervently from side to side as she cleared it. Her paws, still latched around the table, were jittering.
Erythros folded his own hands tightly to keep from reaching towards them. He wanted to comfort her. Him, the vulgar killer and assasin. The murderer of families, of mothers and fathers. He wanted to comfort this woman, and for the life of him, he could not figure out why.
If she knew what you were, you would become the source of her fear.
The very thought left him mortified. He vowed to himself that he would never tell Mariana the truth about himself. He couldn't bear to be the one that made her feel that fear, he couldn't imagine what he would do if that ever happened. It would crush him inside. The idea sent waves of nausea to his gut.
"Hello Erythros," Mariana finally said. She was smiling yet again. The fact that she was hiding from him bothered him greatly. He couldn't understand why, as in truth, he barely knew this woman. But it saddened him in a way that he didn't even know he could feel sadness anymore. He wanted to tell her that it was alright. She didn't have to swallow her past for him. She didn't have to hide her nightmares from him. He would listen and he would understand. He could reach out to her and he could...
"You're making me jealous, lover."
Erythros froze for a brief moment, his thoughts scattering like so much debris in a hurricane. He looked away from the fenki and muttered a greeting, cringing inwardly as the whisper crept into his thoughts unbidden and unannounced.
"Stop worrying about that little trollop, Red," It muttered, the frustration evident. The voice was obviously upset. "You belong to me. Never forget that. You are mine, and she is nothing. I am your everything. Your passion. Your motivation. I own the deed to your soul."
Erythros' jaw moved as he clenched his teeth, his heart skipping a few beats as the voice crushed it in a possessive way. It released him and he drew a shaky breath, regaining his composure.
"Erythros?" Mariana stared at him from across the table, her eyes wide. He prayed to gods he didn't really believe in that she hadn't seem the telling flash in his gaze. He smiled at her, trying to exude false warmth and sincerity in it, while inside he attempted to reconstruct his carefully controlled barriers.
"I'm fine, Mari," he said. He forced a laugh to leak past his throat and slowly rose to his feet. "You take care of yourself. And...try to find a better place to sleep than a tavern table, yes?"
Mariana opened her muzzle as if to protest, as though she wished to speak with him longer. He turned away from her and quickly left, heading towards the sewers with haste, to the place where he knew he could replenish his faith in his mission.
This woman was shaking the foundations of his resolve.
He couldn't let that happen.
The whisper would annihilate him utterly.
-
Lulz, Travosh.
Also, since I'm one for character development and knowing the reasons behind actions: Here's a little Mari backstory for you. I'll stop boring you and start getting into to more entertaining parts of the RP once I have the logs, I swear. xD
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also also there was that whole episode where you got piss drunk and tried to burn your journal, but Mas and I stopped you.
^She was having a really bad day. xD ;D
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A very good read Mari! :thumbup:
hehe, what a doomed relationship, falling in love with what you CAN'T see behind the mask.
-
Mariana was seriously debating darting back out of the tavern the instant she realized Erythros was sitting inside. She glimpsed his familiar form from where she stood just in the doorway. Most of her body was still graciously hidden by the rugged wooden panels, so she was sure that he could not see her. His face was angled down at his drink as though he were brooding again, not that that came as any sort of shock. She muttered a curse inaudibly under her breath and pulled back, taking in some slow, deep lung-fulls of the crisp morning air. She kept her back rigid against the rough tavern wall and glared at the stone tower in front of her, confused by her anger. There was simply something about this elf that she could not shake. She felt like his gaze ripped her up and tore her open, exposing those vulnerable pieces that nobody else should be able to see. The way he watched her gave her chills sometimes; not in a way that she found his gaze offensive, but because she somehow knew he could read her. He was waiting for her to...to slip up or something. Expose her own weaknesses. The very idea made the the fur on the back of her neck rise.
Mariana slammed her fisted paw against the wooden beam with a thunk. She jumped, startling herself, and peered around the corner warily. If he'd heard, he made no indication whatsoever, simply continued to stare blankly down at the clear cold liquid that was frosting the lip of his glass. She turned back again with relief, but pushed away from the wall, chin held high with pride and maybe a little bit of arrogance.
No elf's going to scare me.
The fenki strode casually into the bar, her legs swinging nimbly despite her heavy armor. She tapped the counter lightly and smiled a greeting to Allelia, asking the woman in casual tones how she was doing, inquiring if she had a new shipment of cider. She slid some tria towards her gratefully and took the cider between her paws, then moved right up to Erythros, sitting down across from him with a jovial, almost giddy sort of smile. He looked up at her and grinned widely, as though someone had just placed a free helping of pie right there in front of him.
Yeah, grin now buddy. I'm going to figure you out whether you like it or not, She thought, ears pricking forward as though the unassuming dermorian had just issued her some kind of challenge.
"Hello again Mariana," Erythros said, his voice soft.
That's another thing. Speak up, damnit. I don't want to strain to hear you.
Mariana leaned forward slightly, her elbows propped on the table and her cider left lingering between them. She examined the dermorian closely, peering at those frustratingly green eyes, willing them to shift so that she could prove to herself that she wasn't as crazy as a blind one-eyed rat running face-first into a wall. Her eyes narrowed subtly, but nothing happened, nothing even remotely suspicious. She finally relented and leaned back again, all the while watching as no particular emotion was given away on Erythros' face.
He's good, She commended reluctantly. But I'm better.
Or at least, that's what she was going to tell herself to help her get through facing this scrawny, unlikely demon.
I could take you, She added cockily. Easy.
"Hello there, Erythros," Mariana replied. "How has your training been coming along?"
It really didn't help that the elf had now joined her guild. Sure, she'd spoken highly of it to him a few times when they'd had idle conversation. But it had surprised her when the individual she's somehow pinned down as a recluse had willingly joined a large organization like the one she was currently a part of. And it wasn't so much that she didn't like Erythros...she did. She truly did like his character. He was very non-threatening. Very trustworthy and, well, generally harmless as far as she could tell. In all honesty what bothered her the most was that despite these great character traits, something about him still rattled her. She used to have issues with trust, because of certain events in her past. But this was different, somehow. Her instincts were desperately trying to relay something to her, but apparently they were having trouble breaking through a certain thing most like to refer to as a 'very thick skull.'
"It's been coming well enough," He said simply. "Been working on my crystal way and honing my skill with the sword." He tapped the blades cinched to his waist.
Mariana's eyes lingered on the weapons for an instant before coming back to Erythros' face. She wasn't going to look away long and miss another flicker. She'd gone over in her head repeatedly what she'd possibly done to cause it, but for the life of her, she could remember nothing. She assumed it had something to do with anger, but not even that explained the instances she'd seen that color stain his irises red.
“Not much interesting going on in the training department myself, just...” Mariana trailed off as she heard footsteps from the entrance. She slowly, curiously turned her head towards the door and frowned as an armed Ylian made his way over the threshold, his unsheathed saber held in a meaty fist. He stopped by Allelia, purchased a beer, and chugged it down in a few quick gulps.
Mariana sighed and muttered something unpleasant under her breath as she slowly stood to her feet.
Oh, this is going to be great. She mused. Nothing better than a big, drunk, violent ylian.
Her paws moved to hover idly at her sabers, and her gaze followed him as he made his way up the stairs. She was about to sit back down again when her ears picked up the sound of someone shouting, then the terrible, wet sort of noise that is generated by a sword ripping through flesh. She froze, and listened to the gurgled gasp of someone drawing their last breath.
The Ylain descended the stairs as casually as anything. He stopped by the bar, slid some more tria over, and took another mug from the rather pale-looking bar-keep as she slid it towards him, her hands shaking.
“As you ladies can see, I am now unarmed,” he said with a sneer, accenting the ladies and looking pointedly over Mariana's shoulder. She glanced out of her peripheral and realized that Erythros was standing right beside her, body tense and expression wary. It bothered her more than it should have that she hadn't even heard him move.
“Though, I can't say the same for the guy that followed me in here,” he continued calmly, his tone tinged with mockery. “As he now wields my saber in his chest.”
~~
Erythros felt hot rage crawling up his spine and into the back of his mind. His eyes flashed, and he turned his head away just in time so that the fenki and ylian could not see it. He slid up closer to Mariana, who had gone utterly rigid, the look of pure relentless wrath evident on her face. This surprised him, and suddenly he found himself stuck in silence, waiting to see how she would react.
Mariana's lips slowly peeled back to reveal her starkly white fangs. Erythros found it somehow strange that someone so characteristically friendly could suddenly look so incredibly menacing, especially since Mariana was considerably...vertically challenged.
The Ylian cleared his throat as he finished the last of his liquor. “Now, I left a circle for each of you with the bartender, when the guards come around asking, tell them nothing.”
Mariana let out a harsh, almost cruel-sounding laugh. “I wouldn't count on that.”
Erythros watched as Mariana planted herself like a proverbial wall of steel in front of the Ylian. He was about a full head and shoulders taller than she was, and much bigger around, but that didn't seem to phase her. For some reason watching her standing there like that, her chin tilted up towards the killer, sent a flicker of amusement through him.
He'll squish her.
Mariana crossed her arms over her chest and stood stubbornly in place. “I don't take kindly to murderers,” she growled softly at him.
Erythros cringed inwardly at these words, and they sent an icy chill down his spine.
Tell her what you really are, and she will hate you...
He took a step closer, stopping to stand by Mariana's side. The voice suddenly entered his head again, ringing loudly, overwhelming.
"Why don't you just kill him, lover? Look at those idle guards outside, not even bothering to stop a murder that occurs right under their noses. This is why we are in the right, after all. This is what we truly live for."
He felt his hand twitch unbidden towards the hilt of his blade, felt the agonizing fire burning behind his eyes and knew that even now they were bleeding crimson. He closed them and focused, fighting against the urge. Why, he couldn't say. He simply couldn't see the look on Mariana's face if she saw him kill this man, saw what happened when he lost control.
Surprisingly, the Whisper slowly drained back out of his mind. He could never recall a time when he'd fought back before, but he guessed that it would not be happy with him later.
“...I paid for my crimes, but there's someone who thinks I haven't paid enough,” the ylian was saying. Erythros refocused his attention on the conversation going on around him.
Mariana rolled her shoulders slowly, the armor and ligaments creaking with the movement. Erythros winced a bit.
Would you just take that gods-accursed armor off every now and then...
“I suggest you provide a better explanation than that, sir,” Mariana said, her voice held at a calm, even level. She slowly unsheathed her claws and let her fingers flex in towards her palms and outwards again. “It depends on what crimes you have committed. You show no repentance for whatever it is you have done, and you've apparently just killed one of the victims that suffered either directly or indirectly from your crimes. If you'd changed, it would have been different. But you are no different.”
Erythros felt a smile slowly spread across his face, and he knew that it probably looked almost ridiculous to the others, considering the current situation. But he simply didn't care. Mariana's words sent a sort of warmth through him, out to his hands and feet, radiating from his heart.
I could change, I could become different, I could...
"Red! If you continue this pointless line of thinking, I'll have to punish you, dear. You're one of my favorites. I'd hate it if I had to hurt you."
Erythros turned his head to the side again, hiding the agony in his face as the Whisper crushed his chest. He suppressed it once more and turned back towards Mariana, moving closer to her, and slowly raised a hand towards her shoulder. He slid it to rest on her armor and leaned even nearer, murmuring to her;
“He is not worth your time or your worry, Mariana.” He frowned as she cringed at his nearness, that expression of fear briefly flickering on her face the way he'd seen it before. “I know his kind, leave him to rot in his own decay that will follow him around like the stench of a long-dead carcass.”
Mariana shied away from him further, her eyes pained. Erythros turned his head and addressed the Ylian, intrigued by the reaction but choosing not to comment upon it.
“Crawl back into your hole, and your stink, you ignorant, pathetic excuse for a human.”
Mariana nodded at Erythros' words and addressed the man with ice in her voice, “When the guards inquire, I shall send them directly after your cowardly fleeing figure. Now get out of here.”
The man chuckled at their words, and strode with confidence towards the exit, as though he was sure he could take out all of the guards in Hydlaa unarmed and without any true confrontation at all. He tossed the remains of his mug of beer on the table nearest the exit and let the sticky, foul-smelling liquid slosh all over it's surface, forcing the already frazzled Allelia to rush over with a bucket of sudsy water and well used, badly stained rag.
Erythros finally let his hand fall from the fenki's shoulder, and he watched as she visibly relaxed. She sagged as if tired from the whole confrontation and sighed softly, wiping a paw across her brow.
“Thank you for your help, I appreciated it,” she said, her tone almost grudging.
He watched her for a few moments, feeling that strange prickling of compassion again. “I did nothing you could not perform yourself,” he said simply. His eyes slowly moved towards the outside of the tavern and back, and he made a motion towards it, picking up his staff and holding it casually in one hand. He gestured with it and glanced back at Mariana.
“I think maybe you could use a rest...or perhaps we could go for a walk,” he suggested.
She looked somewhat surprised by the request, but she nodded, seeming to yield. She moved past him silently, and he followed close at her heels.
~~
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
How could she lose her cool so easily? And in front of Erythros, who no doubt already was smugly aware of his effect on her. She was sure he had noticed her cringe when he touched her, and with that movement, she'd given away a horrible weakness that could be far too easily exploited.
You idiot! She growled, struggling to keep the scowl from her face. She reached the bottom of the stairs and turned slowly around, spine straight, eyes ahead, as though she were about to have the fight of her life. Her tail swished back and forth, giving away her anxiety, and she forced it to still.
Erythros paused in front of her, his eyes and face placid as ever. He smiled faintly, almost encouragingly, and for some reason that simply bothered her more. He was trying to get her to let her guard down, she could tell. That terrified her more than if he'd simply whipped out a dagger and tried to plunge it hilt-deep into her chest.
“You might be more comfortable without that armor on,” he commented lightly as she leaned against the wooden beam in front of the Red Crystal Den.
“Believe me, I'm more comfortable with it on,” she responded. “More of a barrier between me and the rest of the world.”
Mariana felt her stomach lurch the moment the words left her lips, realizing how that must have sounded as Erythros nodded his head, his emerald eyes sad.
“I...I mean between me and my enemies, obviously,” she added, scrambling to recover.
I.d.i.o.t!
“Thank you for...getting me out of there. It was getting a bit stuffy,” she offered, when the silence seemed to ring in her ears.
Erythros waved one of his hands dismissively. “There's no need to continue the morbid conversation beyond the company of unsettling souls,” he said.
Mariana rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the way her hackles were already standing on end. Her whole being was stiff and apprehensive. She was glad that he couldn't see the fur on her arms, because surely it too was on the rise.
“I hope I'm not...keeping you from anything important,” she said, as though inwardly urging him to state that he had somewhere to be.
Erythros smiled gently at her, planting his staff in between the cracks of the cobbled street and shaking his head from side to side so that his auburn hair tumbled down to frame his face.
“On the contrary, Mariana. Time with you is more valuable than time anywhere else.”
Mariana felt herself freeze at those words. She stared at Erythros, caught entirely off guard, her paw still clamped to the back of her neck.
“Well...I...uh...” She muttered. She shifted back and forth uncomfortably on her feet. “Thank you, then.”
Erythros seemed to falter for a moment, which, of course, only succeeded in making the situation even more uncomfortable. “May I ask you a question?”
She felt her insides quake at that inquiry, pretty certain as to what it would pertain to. She met Erythros' eyes boldly, though, again taking up the gauntlet and preparing for some kind of battle of wills.
“Of course, my friend,” she answered in as calm a voice as she could muster. “Whatever you wish.”
The elf slowly looked back up at her, and his eyes seemed to burn when he asked his question. There was an intensity about him that made her want to run to the nearest cliff and leap off of it...and at the same time, get closer. It made no logical sense. Which was why it drove her insane.
“Have you ever loved? Why is it that I see so much sadness in your eyes when there should be happiness? Instead I see regret, or reluctance...”
Mariana felt her jaw drop before she could stop the reaction. She clamped it shut again with an audible snap and fought the feeling that she'd just swallowed a large fish whole.
Trepor dung! Steaming trepor dung!
She felt her right paw move towards her wrist unbidden, and her unsheathed claws scratched at the mark at was on its surface. She twitched for a moment, stranded and wracked with indecision. Her instincts screamed that she should simply reply with lies, or divert the flow of conversation to something else. If she opened up to him, he would hurt her. She knew this, somehow. This would end horribly and...
“I...I haven't had the...” She stuttered, putting enough pressure on her wrist to draw blood. “N...no.”
Erythros watched her wrist openly, knowingly, and with chilling chagrin Mariana realized that he'd probably observed this nervous tic before. Despite all her carefulness, and all her hiding, she was an open book. “That was only half the question,” he pressed, his stature and voice not pressing and quietly encouraging.
“Well, I...I just...” She said, her eyes darting towards the space between the pillars as though plotting out an escape route.
He stood before her as though he had all the time in the world. His arms hung loosely at his sides, and his eyes searched hers, trying to delve into her thoughts as though simply by meeting her gaze he could manage to do so. Mariana knew by that look that he wouldn't stop until he figured it out, and she had no doubt that in time, he would. She felt her heart quiver at the notion. It was either now, or eventually, but he would see through her. Perhaps he already could.
She splayed her fingers and ran them through the fur along the top of her head, making it stick up in haphazard spikes as though to physically demonstrate her frazzled state of mind. “I...I have a complicated past,” she said, her voice coming out quietly, forced out of her vocal chords. She felt her defense sliding, and it sent cold tendrils of panic down into the depths of her mind. “I was abused as a child, it's not the...the brightest story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
If he had shown over-eagerness perhaps she could have stopped herself then. If his eyes had flashed with interest, or if he had moved closer to listen to her secret. If he had shown any state or posture that could have been skewed as threatening, she knew she could have stopped herself.
But instead, he stated simply, his tone kind and heartening;
“If you are willing to tell, then I am willing to listen.”
She stared down at her left paw, watching the ligaments in the fingers flex and relaxed as they moved first in and then back out again. She spoke in a detached monotone, a defensive mechanism triggered by her insecurity, and suddenly she just didn't care anymore what this elf knew.
“I was born into a group of individuals that saw women as mere cattle, and treated them accordingly. The leader of that group decided at an early age that he wanted me as...his.”
Erythros finally moved closer to her, but only a pace, and maintained enough distance between them that she was able to resist the urge to stumble away from him.
“He branded me,” she continued, not even looking up at him as she spoke, her shoulders slowly sinking in indescribable shame. She pulled the fur on her wrist back to reveal the jagged scar; the one she would give anything to be free of. “Broke my bones to break my spirit.” She smoothed the fur back down again and closed her eyes slowly, unable to even look at him. “I escaped. I resisted. But I'm still not free.” She scrunched her eyes shut harder, letting her paws ball into fists at her sides. “I cannot accept affection from men. I cannot touch them. So, in the end, I suppose he broke me after all.”
She let her words hang in the silence between them, and could only hear the steady sound of his breathing. She finally looked back up again, opening her eyes and expecting to see a sneer, or disgust. She expected him to berate her, or, even worse than that, to pity her as though she were a tiny bird with a broken wing.
She saw none of this. Only sadness was there, incredible sadness, and only for her. She thought she could even detect a small film of tears fogging his eyes, and it took him a moment to formulate a reply.
“Forgive me for touching you before, Mariana. I did not know,” He said softly. “I would only mean to help you, but still, I apologize, I simply had no idea.” He paused for a moment, watching her, thinking on his words, and he spoke with confidence. “But he did not break you. This I know for certain.”
Mariana couldn't help but bark a laugh. She knew she was showing how injured she was, and she hated herself even more for it, sending herself into a degenerative spiral. “I'm damaged goods,” she spat, fury in her voice.
Erythros eyes flashed them, red as anything, bright and clear. Her breath caught in her throat and she stared at him, afraid that she'd triggered something that would end badly.
“You're not damaged goods, Mariana,” he said. “Never let any fool or beast tell you otherwise.”
Mariana felt her arm rise of its own accord, and watched it hover beside Erythros' face. She held it there for a few moments, uncertain.
“Are you alright? Have...have I upset you?” She asked.
Erythros shook his head, and the color faded again, letting his eyes flash back to green. He acted as though he didn't have the slightest idea what she meant. “No, no. You have never upset me. It only pains me to see you convinced of such a lie.”
Mariana observed as his eyes traced the movement of her paw. She let it fall back to her side, struck with overwhelming confusion and bewilderment. She found herself wanting to say something that would be encouraging, that would make him calmer.
“I'm sorry I didn't have a happier tale to tell you, but it's people like you that have helped me mend this far,” she said, lifting her chin as she recovered some of her dignity. “I thank you for listening, my friend. Your kindness is...you are very kind.”
He smiled gently, then turned his head towards the fading crystal light. “I have only returned the kindness that you have showed to me,” he replied, slowly swiveling his head to look at her one more time. “But, I think both of us could use some rest.”
Mariana nodded in agreement, yet she felt a stubborn pang of reluctance to leave. She'd never let her walls fall this much before, and instead of being a disaster, the ordeal left her lighter rather than heavier inside. She watched Erythros for a few moments, thinking that she must have been wrong about him.
“Well, I think I've talked your pointed ears off enough for one evening,” she said. “I...I wish you only the best. May the crystal light shine brightly on your path.”
He dipped his head and turned, smiling quietly. “And may yours be lit brightly, until next we meet.”
Erythros walked off towards the stairs, drawing his hood over his head as he moved, and Mariana stared after him. She put a paw over her chest and frowned slightly, feeling as though he'd tied a string to her heart and was tugging it as he moved away.
She muttered a curse under her breath and berated herself for acting like a silly little girl before turning swiftly on her heel and walking away.
-
/me weeps. "It's just so...so....gushy...and....amg...ACK!"
Sorry for the uber long entry, I'll be shocked if anyone actually reads though the whole thing xD
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I did! :thumbup:
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::| Daaaang. Someone's bored! ;D
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Mayhaps ;)
But I liked it! ;D
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take this as you wish, but it's meant as a compliment. You make it easy to read something this long.
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:-[
/me goes to hide in her corner now
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/me drags Mariana out into the light to watch her melt! :devil:
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/me screeches. "I'm meeeeeelting I'm meeeeeelting!!!!"
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:devil:
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Erythros held an eager hand out towards the flame, out towards his Whisper. He could see it in his minds eye: inky ebbing and flowing of that wonderful light. It told him what it wanted him to do in soft, luring tones, and he felt the deepest urge to follow. It was far more than being compelled. It was far more than a simple willingness. There was a force behind this voice, a force that was nearly impossible to resist. All he could think about was to kill, to kill, to obliterate and attack whatever that Whisper told him to go after. And now it was giving him, humble Erythros, a very personal mission. The very idea of it filled him with glee as well as shame.
Shame because even now his own thoughts mocked him:
Think what she would believe if she saw you now. Your eyes gone red and your face lined with sweat. Think what she would think of your thoughts, of the way you lap so eagerly at the opportunity to cause harm to another. She would abhor you. She would scorn you. She would relinquish you utterly, and completely deny that she ever knew you.
Erythros shook his head forcibly as the last of the Whisper's presence leaked back out of his mind, leaving nothing but the vivid images that would allow him to follow precisely its tediously treacherous trap. Apparently this time it was something to do with a guild. Surprising; typically the Whisper was far more secretive than that. To take on a large organization was nearly unheard of, it preferred to work one life at a time. But, perhaps it had more faith in him than even he thought.
He blinked as his vision returned to normal. He squinted his eyes slightly in the dim lighting of the sewers and slowly rose to his feet, bracing his staff against the slippery, moss-riddled floor. When he ascended the ladder that lead to the world above, the crystal-shine assailed his senses, and he blocked it out with his hand. His gaze shifted sharply to the ground, towards a small patch of wild grass filled with an assortment of flora. He spotted a brilliant looking starphire where it poked itself out just past the weeds. Erythros knelt down and plucked it free, twirling it between his fingers and smelling its sweetness to chase the remnants of the dank scent of the sewers from his nostrils.
He had upset his Whisper the other day. He knew he had. It had not tried to speak with him at all since the incident with Mariana and the bumbling Ylian, so he was in truth quite startled when it overwhelmed his senses suddenly and filled him with visions of purpose. Though he would not question it. His calling was assured, and even though he had faltered, it appeared that he was forgiven, at least for now.
I'll give this flower to Mariana, he thought, and the inclination was entirely unbidden. He didn't think twice about it, really. Simply decided she might like a flower.
He purchased a small bit of parchment and ink from Jayose; knowing that no one could track down such a trivial transaction and trace it to him. With his palm pressed to the middle of the paper as he braced himself against a wall, he scribbled the note that the whisper had bidden him to scribe.
That finished, Erythros rolled up the scroll in his hands and then stuffed it neatly into a small container, ready to be delivered unto it's target. A Priestess, if he recalled correctly from their infrequent encounters. Always happy and smiling. Ever effervescent and amiable. It was rather a pity to consider that soon, she would not be nearly so happy. Perhaps the light heart-ed lover of life would soon discover that death's kiss was considerably more potent. More...passionate.
Erythros wandered through the plaza with confident strides, knowing his purpose. He passed the letter to a ylian for him to deliver, slipping him considerable coin to keep him quiet and hiding his features beneath his hood so that not even he would know from whom the letter was sent. With this first part of his mission complete, the dermorian walked silently over the threshold of the tavern door and down into the basement to contemplate. He saw Mariana and he felt his heart beat faster.
She was staring into the hearth as she usually was, seeming drawn to the light and life of the fire. He rubbed the smooth stem of the flower and approached her quietly, offering his gift wordlessly at first. He smiled at her warmly, trying to radiate as much friendliness as he could in the expression, trying to match the same kindness that he was always floored by when she spoke to him.
Mariana's eyes fell to the flower, and she reaches towards it. She took it delicately between her gauntlet-ed fingers and somehow managed not to crush it. She stared at it for a moment, as if numbed by the randomness of the gift, and Erythros felt his heart swell further as her expression softened and she smiled tentatively.
“I...thank you, Erythros,” she said quietly. She cradled the blue petals and gently touched them so that they depressed downwards and sluggishly popped back up again. “How kind of you.”
He leaned against the table slightly and smiled back at her. Every part of him longed to have her trust. He knew he didn't deserve it. Knew, in fact, that she would be far better off if she trusted her instincts in this matter and veered far away from him whenever they encountered one another. But he could not bring himself to be selfless enough to push her away. At least, not yet. They had grown ever closer over the past few weeks, with a rapidness that startled him. She had taken a fist of volcano to the concrete walls around his emotions. He'd been so dispassionate before, but now, around her, he felt himself having the capacity to feel again.
“You're quite welcome,” he replied. He sat down and let his hand knead the aching muscles in his legs, the tendons weary from traversing the sewers. “I thought you might like it.”
Mariana searched his face, as though she could sense the tiredness in him. She gently placed the flower in a fold of her travelsack where it would not be destroyed by the jostling of her movements or pressed against the other contents of her bag.
“I saw you at that bit of dueling in front of the arena the other day,” she said casually. “I didn't know you were a duelist.”
“I wasn't participating, I don't partake of dueling, no,” he replied. He watched her eyes as she spoke, watched the subtle hints of the ruminations that were going on behind them: the ever-present furrow in her brow, the way her lips twitched when she connected the dots, the telling glimmer of a puzzle solved.
She nodded and tilted her head to the side slightly. “I have trouble picturing you dueling. Simply because I can't see you angry enough to raise your blade to harm another.”
Erythros felt that warmth again, and it nearly overpowered his senses for a moment, stronger than any whisper.
She trusts me, she trusts me, gods above she trusts me...
He laughed quietly, trying not to show the effect her words were having upon him. “Perhaps I should try my hand at it sometime,” he remarked.
“Indeed? That’s be something I'd like to see.” She laughed softly; a warm, rich sound.
He grinned and shook his head with a positively adamant air. “No, it wouldn't. I don't think my dueling skills would be something anyone would like to see.”
Mariana simply shrugged and leaned back in her chair, into a more relaxed position. “There is more to a person than mere strength. There is also character, and that, my friend, you have in spades.”
Erythros closed his eyes for a brief moment. The truth behind it all raged inside of him, rebelling against her generous words. He looked back up at her slowly and spoke uncertainly to her, his voice dipping to merely a quiet murmur. “Why is it that you are so kind to me, Mariana?”
~~
Despite all of the uncertainty this elf left her with, for some reason, she could no longer resist the impulse that lay beneath the current of instability. She wanted to comfort him. She could feel the way his eyes saw nothing but emptiness. At first, she thought he reacted with bitterness. But now, as she'd grown to know him better, there was this incredible sadness about him. She felt badly for him. She felt as though she had to somehow make it better.
What's the matter, Mariana? Can't even admit to yourself that you like the guy? Her conscience mocked her.
“Well...simple. I...I mean, why wouldn't I be? You're respectable enough. You're personality is...refreshing.”
Erythros didn't seem to buy her admittedly lame explanation. He leaned back and observed her speculatively. She twitched in the silence and fidgeted in her seat, until finally she decided to try and flip the situation around.
“Well you could ask the same question of yourself regarding me,” she said with an almost flippant air. “You're kind enough to me without any real reason to be. See? Hospitality. That's how it goes.”
Erythros slowly slid his elbows off the table from where he'd come to rest them. From somewhere above them upon the landing, Mariana heard Dannae speaking softly to someone, a courier perhaps, and the soft brushing noise that follows the passing of a letter. She frowned for a moment as she heard urgent whispering, but her attention was abruptly distracted by the words coming out of Erythros' mouth.
He was leaning casually in his chair, and his hands were folded in his lap. He kept his eyes fixed on Mariana unabashedly. “I find you interesting because you are kind beyond reason, and loving even when you have not been loved. You are joyful, despite a lifetime of sadness, and despite your pain, you still show love and kindness to those who do not deserve it, including myself.”
Mariana felt her mouth drop slightly. She could imagine the way her face probably looked at this moment: bug-eyed bewilderment, a completely stupefied expression on it. Now, insults she could take. Insults were easy, didn't matter what they were. You could fight back with quick quips and sharp jabs. But this was entirely different. She found this odd sort of paranoia rising up inside of her and slamming into her, telling her he's mocking you somehow, Mari. Teasing you. He doesn't really mean that. He's trying to insult you.
The fenki shook herself and stammered out a hesitant and uncertain reponse. She looked down at the mug of cider in her paws and traced the handle awkwardly, fiddling with the foam that clung to the rim of the drink.
“I...thank you,” she muttered. “For the...um...praise.” She slowly looked back up at him, watching his face, trying to find a sign of sarcasm or irony upon it. She could find none; the only thing present was that soft reassuring smile and those gentle eyes. “Why do you not believe you deserve my kindness?” She blurted. “Ever since I met you you've been nothing but good to me. Or to anyone else, for that matter.”
She caught it: the hint of guilt that flickered for the barest of breaths upon his face. It was so instant that she nearly missed it, but it was there nonetheless. Rather than fill her with fear, it made her all the more curious. There was something going on she didn't know, and didn't understand. She swore to herself then that she would help him with it. It was as though he were trapped inside a small cage. Perhaps she could melt the lock off of it for him.
“You first showed it to me when you did not know me,” he said. “And even now, you still show it, far beyond anything I have showed you in return.”
Mariana shook her head. “No, you've helped me actually,” she confessed. “You put me at ease in a way. You're calm and steady, and that's a relief.” She was lying slightly, it was true. But she did find herself drawn to him for reasons she could not explain.
“I'm glad I could help in some small way,” he replied, still watching her with those searching eyes. She stared at them for a few moments, and her decision clicked into place as she observed the frustratingly emerald pigment. She'd been set on finding out herself, but perhaps she could merely inquire about it outright. It would save time, and she could immediately begin searching for a way to solve whatever the problem was.
“May I ask you something?”
He nodded his head. “Anything,” he responded.
“Your eyes...” She began, trying to keep her tone gentle and without any urgency. “They sometimes...shift color. I was wondering why that is?”
His expression shifted again. It was rapid and fleeting. If she'd looked away even for a moment, she would have missed it before he covered it once more.
“I would answer any question you would ask me. I would only ask that you not inquire about this.”
Mariana nodded outwardly. “If that is your wish, I will abide by it, for now. But know that you can trust me.”
Inwardly she was already going over other possible venues through which she could discover her answer. She could go to Jayose and ask him if he had any books in which similar phenomenon were described. She could find Roberet or perhaps that one klyros...what was his name, Travosh? He might know something, possibly. If he wasn't going to tell her himself, she'd find out some other way. It wasn't about whether or not she was going to make the discovery. It was simply about how quickly she could manage to do so.
She was startled out of her deliberations when she looked back at the dermorian's face. His eyes were misting over as he looked at her, and then more so as he looked down and away. There was shame in those eyes now. It filled her with a strange sort of pain to see it. She wanted to reassure him and tell him that it was alright, she forgave him. There was always room to be forgiven. Whatever it was, she'd help him through it.
“I will not deny you an answer,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “I will only ask that you please, please, please. Do not seek into this.”
Mariana moved her paw over slowly, as though forcing it through wet cement. It hovered over his hand, which was resting flatly upon the table. She steeled herself as if she were about to engage a difficult struggle and allowed it to settle briefly over his hand, touching his skin.
Memories assailed her, but one stood out in prominent, stark contrast: her fingers snapping, one by one, pop pop popping as they were broken. “You shouldn't have dropped that mug,” Kredrian was saying to her, “That was a very fine mug, and now look at it, all shattered. How would you like it if I shattered you?”
“I understand, my friend,” she told Erythros, proud that her voice sounded steady. The memory sent phantom pain to her nerves and her fingers twitched more when he rested his other hand atop them. She flinched, and he removed his hand with a soft apology. “I will not ask it of you, if it causes you such pain.”
She slowly withdrew her paw and flexed the fingers individually before looking back up at him, cringing at the sympathy that was in his eyes.
“I should be getting some rest,” she said quietly. She rose from her seat and grabbed her mug, using the remaining cider to put out the dull glowing embers of the fire in the hearth. “You should as well, it's been a long evening.”
Erythros nodded in response.
“Rest well, Mariana,” he said.
She nodded once and moved over to the stairs, clutching the handle of the mug hard enough that she was surprised the ceramic piece did not break within her grip.
But don't think this is over, elf.
-
Sorry this one took so long to write; I confess one of my shotcomings as far as writing is I enjoy writing the more "action-y" bits but the ooshy gushy blahblabla....not so much ;D
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I know that feel before I retired my keyboard ;)
but its always good to have a little non-action every once in awhile, gives your story something for people who don't like the action.
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you've taken what is on the surface a simple and mundane conversation, and dilated it with the emotions and inner dialogue, complex reasoning taking place within each moment, behind each small action. You've created enough tension and suspense within the context of a brief exchange of words to keep at least this reader intrigued and entertained. That's saying a lot too, considering I already know the plot of this story. But now I get to see it through the eyes of others involved.
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I'll admit the difference between RP and writing that I actually don't like is the inability to display complex thoughts. When you're in a conversation often you don't say all that's going on your head (sometimes for the best) and often that's actually far more interesting than what makes it past the filter :P
I do tend to write more in head than out of head because it helps me connect to the character more, but I need to cut back on it so that I can make this story move it's hiny faster ;D
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I agree. Something that I've been struggling with as I work to improve my RP is that in RP I'm limited to describing outward actions, all the really good juicy stuff I'm forced to keep to myself. I find difficulty in describing outward actions, any attempts to have one of my characters (i wonder which one) act in any elaborate way, I always feel comes off either very rigid or overly forced and cartoonish. It may not help that in real life I live entirely inside my head and on the surface I have the demeanor and personality of a shy rock. Hence, writing about my characters gives me a chance to explore their inner dialogue, and I kinda revel in it. Break this rock open and I might turn out to be a geode (http://www.wolaver.org/art/geode.jpg)
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I agree. Something that I've been struggling with as I work to improve my RP is that in RP I'm limited to describing outward actions, all the really good juicy stuff I'm forced to keep to myself. I find difficulty in describing outward actions, any attempts to have one of my characters (i wonder which one) act in any elaborate way, I always feel comes off either very rigid or overly forced and cartoonish. It may not help that in real life I live entirely inside my head and on the surface I have the demeanor and personality of a shy rock. Hence, writing about my characters gives me a chance to explore their inner dialogue, and I kinda revel in it. Break this rock open and I might turn out to be a geode (http://www.wolaver.org/art/geode.jpg)
Do what I did, create a character whom will say almost anything in his head and hang the consequences.
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Do what I did, create a character whom will say almost anything in his head and hang the consequences.
never had a problem with dialogue in RP and Ara might be one of the most frank and direct characters currently in the game, at least I put effort in playing her that way. What I was speaking of was describing the physical actions of my characters, their gestures, body language and so on.
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I agree. Something that I've been struggling with as I work to improve my RP is that in RP I'm limited to describing outward actions, all the really good juicy stuff I'm forced to keep to myself. I find difficulty in describing outward actions, any attempts to have one of my characters (i wonder which one) act in any elaborate way, I always feel comes off either very rigid or overly forced and cartoonish. It may not help that in real life I live entirely inside my head and on the surface I have the demeanor and personality of a shy rock. Hence, writing about my characters gives me a chance to explore their inner dialogue, and I kinda revel in it. Break this rock open and I might turn out to be a geode (http://www.wolaver.org/art/geode.jpg)
Do what I did, create a character whom will say almost anything in his head and hang the consequences.
Because, clearly, that's worked out so well for you, Batman. ;)
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Seems to have.
And yeah, sometimes its hard to properly use /me and describe physical things, but i think it gets easier with practice. What irks me the most is people who use *(action)* when a /me would be superior in EVERY WAY. It just angers me. >.<
(You know who you are dammit. >.>)
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Dannae held the letter between trembling hands. Her eyes darted over the words frantically, fitfully, while her mind attempted to grasp the what and why of the situation. She could feel the chilling tendrils of panic riding up her spine. She could feel hear heart skip a beat in a painful throb and then start again as the reality of the words scribed in half-dried ink sunk into her head.
I know your secret.
You must reveal the truth publicly, or the three named will all die in seven days.
I may choose to forget this if you choose one name and shout it for all to hear outside the tavern within the hour.
Choose wisely.
Ixi, Erythros, Zalya
The nolthrir woman let her eyes dart back up to the messenger that had delivered the threat to her. He seemed simple and unassuming enough, nothing out of the ordinary about him. He actually smiled at her, and was in that expression she realized that in all likelihood he truly had no idea about the contents of the letter he'd just given her. He wished her a nice day and strode casually and amiably out of the tavern.
Dannae stared back down at the parchment, hot tears in her eyes and a knot forming in her throat.
“Why is this happening,” she breathed, sliding into a chair with the letter still clutched between her fingers. “What kind of sick joke is someone playing?”
Nothing answered her rhetorical question. She reached up and gripped the symbol of Xiosia that hung around her neck and muttered soft words of prayer as she read the letter over again, and again, trying to make sense of it and mulling over what this “truth” could possibly be. Nothing came to her mind, nothing at all that would warrant such death threats. With an internal hopelessness she realized that there was no way she would figure out what this unknown villain wanted. And that meant that they either all had to die, or just one.
Or is that it? She thought, running a hand through her long black locks of hair. She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. If I shout a name, will that person be..spared?
There was only one name that stood out if she made that decision. It was a selfish one, perhaps, but one she had to make. After all, she barely even knew this Erythros. Ironic that even now he appeared to be on the lower level of Kada's; she could hear him talking to Mariana now, their voices somewhat low and strained with emotion. Normally she might have been curious enough to listen. But as of this moment, nothing but terror and sorrow permeated her thoughts.
The fear quickly morphed into wrath the more she thought about her predicament. She'd done nothing to deserve this, and as far as she knew, neither had the people whose names were scribed upon the letter. She stood up forcefully. Her chair toppled over and hit the ground with an audible thunk. The letter crinkled in her hands as she angrily wadded it into a tight ball, her face forming an outraged scowl.
“I don't KNOW what this truth is!” She snarled, as though the one seeking out this answer from her could hear her from the shadows. “How am I supposed to choose?” She added, voice growing soft and breaking upon the last word of the sentence.
Her feet carried her almost mechanically out of the tavern. She let her legs pump as she ran for the exit, her hand still clenched tightly around the wrinkled letter. Simply to keep her tortured thoughts from keeping up with her, she might have kept running, had she not run straight into Travosh almost instantly.
She staggered to a stop before she bowled into him, thankfully. She stood panting for a moment, her legs shaking and her eyes watering with emotion.
“Travosh!” She exclaimed.
“Dannae,” Travosh replied calmly, as though the were simply reaffirming that they both in fact had names.
“Something has happened!” Dannae managed to say, her voice somewhat strained. “A...a stranger gave me this.” Her arms moved to cradle the note between her hands, her delicate fingers working to maneuver it so that she could smooth out the creases and make the writing legible again. After a fair bit of fretting she managed to suitably solve the issue and offered it to Travosh with a wide-eyed expression.
The klyros took it in is own clawed hands and studied with with growing concern, his white pupil-less eyes quickly skimming its contents. He let out a hissing sound as he reached the end of the writing and looked back up at Dannae quickly. The Xiosian priestess was watching him with a hopeful expression, obviously pleading with him, wanting him to tell her what to do. He passed the letter back to her and reached up to scratch his chin, thinking over the situation before giving voice to some advice.
“We have seven days to work with. Have you noticed anyone strange around you lately?” He inquired, keeping his eyes locked on the frazzled nolthrir. He said this mostly to calm her, knowing that if she flew into a full-out fit things would only degenerate from there.
Dannae shook her head, freeing some more strands of her hair so that she managed to make herself look even more out of sorts. “I have to yell a name,” she admonished, the words sounding heavy and leaden in her own ears. “Maybe...at least one of them will be safe.”
Ixi. She added mentally
Travosh latched onto that detail, lowering his voice as he spoke his question. “In order for you to yell a name...someone would need to be around to hear it, correct?” His eyes roved instinctively towards the alleyways around the tavern as he spoke this fact.
Dannae's face brightened with some hope, and she nodded obligingly, agreeing with Travosh's observation. She too took a moment to look about her once the words sunk in. “Yes, perhaps close by.”
The klyros offered the incriminating note back to Dannae, observing her for a moment as though to reassure himself that she still had her head firmly on her shoulders. Satisfied that she wasn't at least totally hysterical, he gave an affirmative nod.
“And if a few people where to do a little searching...”
“I honestly don't know what they would want!” Dannae cut him off, gripping the letter once more in her fist. The letter indicated that she had done something grievous to warrant this attention, that was true. She needed to know if people would judge her, possibly even fear her. They might become angry with her that she could not confess this truth. But she would shout it on the rooftops if she had even the smallest inclination to what it was. Unfortunately, still nothing came to mind.
“I believe you,” Travosh replied reassuringly. “The targets could be by random chance, though I think talking to Erythros could be a good start, as he is listed among those who might die.” He shifted the conversation quickly to keep Dannae's mind on track and focused on how to solve the issue quickly.
A cold shiver ran down Dannae's spine. She hugged herself and shook her head, muttering things in a soft voice. “I'm so scared, why do these things always happen to me? I should warn those listed on the note...gods, I hope this is all nothing but a sick joke.”
“Have you made any enemies in the past?” Travosh continued, as though she hadn't spoken. Best to keep her focused then let her start brooding. It would do no good.
She shook her head again in reply. “I don't know,” she murmured.
Travosh nodded his head decisively. “I'm going to take a walk around the perimeter then and see what I can find,” he stated. “Stay around here, I'll be back soon.” He turned around with a soft rustle of red way robes and made his way down the stairs towards the Plaza.
Dannae watched him go, sending up more prayers to Xiosia as she stood there in front of Kada El's. “Thank you Travosh, I didn't know what to do,” she whispered, her words perhaps too soft for him to even pick up. She leaned back against the rough wooden boards of the tavern wall, buried her face in her hands, and wept.
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Just a quickie one from one of the RP's Dannae sent me to prove I'm not dead...well I am. Mostly. Just busy. Sorry for the slowness :-[
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Ah yes the letter incident... fun times
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Erythros stared across the table, his hands gripped beneath it and clenched to keep them from shaking. Beads of perspiration lined his palms and were starting to form a steady trickle down the back of his neck. She was there, present as any other time, always willing to listen to him no matter what he had to say. Right now, her keen eyes were watching his face with uncertainty, with bald and open concern. She could see that something was wrong. The fenki was peering right past his eyes and down into his mind.
Mariana placed a gauntlet-ed paw on the table's surface and leaned forward slightly. Her shoulder shifted with the movement, giving off the screech of metal against metal. He could tell that she'd picked up on the tension in the air like a well-tracked scent. Her pupils were contracted slightly, and her tail was twitching back and forth where it hung near the floor in a steady and even way.
“I won't insult you by asking if anything is wrong,” she stated simply. He was as open as an old tome right now, and he knew it. Mariana was no idiot. He should not have come here, not now, not with the Priestess right upstairs. “Instead, tell me what is bothering you, my friend.”
You fool! Erythros battered himself. You should not have exposed yourself so clearly. Writing your name upon the note was not enough, you should have hidden yourself from view...
Of course he needed to hear which name the nolthrir selected. So that he could carry out the whisper's glorious will. That was right, wasn't it? That was what he lived for, what he yearned for. That and nothing else. He knew this as he knew how to breathe, how to eat and drink. It was as second nature as clenching and relaxing his own hands.
Those hands remained beneath the table now, the knuckles turning white as the blood-flow was restricted from them. He focused on the feel of his boots against the worn wooden floor. Concentrated on the sensation of having the leather soles move over the ragged, somewhat splintered wood, hoping one of the loose pieces would pierce through the thick fabric and into his skin. That pain would be better than the inner turmoil he was now facing.
“This is wrong,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.
“What is?” Mariana replied, her ears easily picking up on the reluctantly uttered words.
Erythros looked back up to Mariana, holding her gaze for a brief moment, then looked away as though the sight of her pained him. “All of...This. I should never have...I cannot...” He dug his nails into the skin on his hands, so hard he could feel it leave a line across his fingers. The brightness in his eyes dimmed slightly, became harder, more detached, falling into a defensive mechanism that he ran to for his own disturbed form of salvation. Please don't dig deeper, Mariana. Please, don't try to help me. Don't try...
“Why is this happening? What kind of sick joke is someone playing?”
Erythros cringed inwardly, strangely enraged as well as shamed as the priestess's hysterical words reached them below. He glanced up briefly and noted that Mariana was too busy with him to really pay attention, which he was more than thankful for. For at least a few more brief moments, they could remain like this, like friends, perhaps as more. Perhaps...
You have a job to do, lover.
He gritted his teeth and the coldness that was spreading in his chest grew frigid as ice.
Mariana raised one of her brows, her eyes glinting with an emotion he could not translate. “What, talking to your friend is wrong?” She gestured at the food in front of her, to the pie and warm drinks she'd spread out before him in hopes he would eat some of it. “Sharing a meal is wrong?” She looked at Erythros curiously. “I do not think I understand.”
He forced his eyes to rove back up. He willed them to look upon her with certainty, to speak to her as though he were one hundred percent assured of his position so that she would not question his words and would not pursue the why behind them. “Talking to my friend in the way that I have spoken to you...Feeling the way I do, and seeing you the way I do. It is all wrong...”
He reached instinctively towards the table, towards a fresh loaf of bread that rested atop one of Allelia's badly abused plates. His fingertips grazed the crunchy top of the loaf when his eyes flashed and the voice slammed into him again, forcing him onward, prodding him with a ferocity that was more painful than he could ever remember it being before.
Not done yet! Not done yet! Finish it, lover! Break her! Cast her aside, tell her to run out on you and never return. Mine! You're mine! MINE!
He jerked his hand back as his eyes tinted red, and he glared down at the table.
Mariana's attention was still riveted on his face, and he knew without a doubt that she was observing his every action, his every expression. She could no doubt see the lines of strain that were radiating across his features. There was no doubt in his mind that even now, though he'd voiced nothing, she was aware that he was in agony. That knowledge made him both grateful and resentful. No more, Mariana. Leave me, I deserve to be left to rot.
“I do not understand,” Mariana replied to him. She leaned forward more, her movements ever belayed by the creaking of that damned metallic armor. “I don't see a problem with the way you see me. We are friends.” Some uncertainty slipped into her tone, and it made his heart quiver to hear it. “We are friends...aren't we?”
Erythros shifted his legs beneath the table, first one way, then the other, trying to let some of his tension and apprehension flow out of him with the mundane motion. “I wanted that, Mariana,” he said, voice harsh in his own ears. “But it is impossible, between you and me...”
He jumped slightly as she slapped a paw down on the table, and was somewhat startled by the smirk that grew on her face. “Well it's too late for that!” She exclaimed, missing his meaning by a mile or two at least. “We already are friends!” She beamed enthusiasm and geniality at him.
Some mirth warmed his chest at that. In so many ways Mariana was almost childlike. Strange, that with her past, she seemed so ready to leap into friendship. She truly did not understand what he meant...she was clueless. He thanked the Whisper silently for that.
A bitter sigh escaped his lips, and he clasped his hands down hard on his knees. “We may be friends...but you must not seek it any further than that,” he replied to her. How had it gotten this far? With the offering of a mere flower, with hours spent simply chatting over water and cider. How had he allowed this fenki to get this close? He'd endangered himself, his devotion, his whisper. He looked back up at her and focused on her with an affirmative nod, forcing his chin to bob in the motion mechanically. “Friends,” he repeated with a dark tone to his voice. A heavy, weighted tone.
The fingers on Mariana's right paw twitched. She reached over and let her claws scratch along that scar, that terrible scar that ran around it and left it bare of fur. That the tic had taken over in her anxiety seemed lost to her, and she smiled despite the fact that she'd already just given herself away. It was a sad, unstable smile. One that was forced, and one that wounded him more than if she'd simply burst into tears. “Erythros,” she said gently. “Even if I wanted that...I don't think I could seek it out.”
Her words struck him with brute force, and he resisted the urge to feel his chest and search for a gaping hole. He nodded again, jaw clenched tight, molars grinding one over the other. “Good.” He said, slowly, deliberately.
Again, the fingers on her paw twitched, and she raised her arm horizontally. She was unsure of what to do, and her hesitation bit harder than any angry velnishi claw ever had. “It...It's alright, I'm sorry.” Her cold metal fingertips grazed his shoulder, and he cringed outwardly. “Don't...don't touch me,” he hissed out, the words flung into the air past gritted teeth. Her paw drew away from him again and she folded those trembling fingers into a fist just before it disappeared from his sight beneath the table.
The telling smash of a chair hitting the floor echoed in the silence that ensued, and Erythros' face lost all emotion for a moment as he heard heated words uttered from above them: “I don't know what this truth is, and how am I supposed to choose?” Feet pounded against the wooden floor and he let his eyes flick upwards for the barest of moments, just in time to see the nolthrir fleeing into the night with his letter clutched in her grasp.
“I should go,” Erythros rasped, and he stood to his feet, collecting his staff in a pale and quaking hand. Mariana stood as well, and from the gleaming obstinate look in those gold-flecked eyes, he knew that this was not going to be easy.
The enkidukai moved gracefully around him, planting herself like a titanium wall between him and the stairs...and freedom from this claustrophobic and terrifying situation. Her arm moved again, this time with a force, and gripped his shoulder in an iron vice. Her lips quivered slightly and he could see the fur along her bare neck prickle at the contact. The flash of pain that skittered across her brow was a serrated knife to his chest. “No. Stay.” She demanded.
He locked eyes with her. He felt the heat crawling up his spine and latching onto the back of his brain again. He felt his higher senses of thinking dull, and only aggression pounded through his veins with every beat of his blackened heart. “Let me go, Mariana. Do not follow.” He tried to take a step back, to extricate himself from her grip, but she only tightened it and made her stance more solid. “I don't need your help.” He ground out. “Let me go.”
His words injured her, that much was obvious as crystal shine on a cloudless day. But she remained stubborn as ever, the steady beating of a gentle rain, the stubborn throbbing of a hearth fire in wintertime. “I think you're lying, Erythros. I can see it. You do need help. And I'm going to to my best to help you. I care about you. Your friendship is dear to me.”
Feet shifting in a smooth motion, he rocked back on his heels, trying again to break her grasp. She finally released him, pulling her paw back as though she'd been burned. With quick and jerky steps she moved to the base of the stairs and planted herself again between him and the exit. “Fine, but you aren't leaving.”
Standing between us, dear. Look at what she's doing to our beautiful relationship! Are you going to let that happen? Knock her aside like the cur that she is. Cast her aside and run to my embrace.
The rage was a tangible thing now. It was racking its bloody claws along his spine. He knew his eyes were tainted by it, shifted by it. He took a step forward so that he stood before Mariana, and raised his hand to hover directly by her bare, exposed neck. “Yes, I am,” he replied to her.
Fear. It glimmered in stark reality at his proximity, infecting her, overtaking her. But she didn't respond to it. She rolled her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest, despite the panic he knew she was experiencing. “No. I'm sorry, my friend, but I cannot allow that.”
Erythros moved his other hand to hover at her throat, and her nostrils flared with the motion. Her tail swished back and forth with unspent aggression and her ears lowered and flattened hard upon her scalp. “Move, Mariana. Now.”
Her lips quivered slightly. “No,” she said, her voice rising at the end as though it were a question and not a statement. His hands hovered only an inch from her neck now, and she refused to even look at them or acknowledge their presence. “I want to help you, I...”
SHUT HER UP!
His hands clamped down of their own accord. The soft fur on her neck felt odd against his fingers. He buried them deeply in it, cutting off her sentence. He didn't choke her, because he knew he didn't need to by the sharp tremor his touch sent rocketing down her body. Her eyes shrunk to slits and she let out an almost tormented whimper, taking an immediate and stumbling step away from him. He watched her rub at her neck with her paws and the horror that she regarded him with made him want to throw up. He turned towards the stairs and ran up them, frantic steps leaving a thump thump thump to announce his escape.
That's right, you swine. Go back to your hole where you belong. Never emerge again. You've a job to do, and she's too good for you.
She cried after him, but he ignored it, fleeing to the sewers past the Priestess and the Klyros outside the door.
“IXI VENO!” The former cried out, and his ears pricked at the words, trained to inscribe them upon his soul and carry them home. His fleeing form was engulfed by the darkness as he plunged down below the city.
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Run. It was all she could think of to do. Right past the people outside, discussing something amongst themselves. Some small notion of association with them rang at the back of her head, but in her state of borderline panic their faces were reduced to formless masks. There was concern in their voices, but Mariana contributed it to something irrelevant and deviated around them as she exited the tavern. Her passing was announced by the clanging of her plate-mail boots on the damp cobblestones, and the rainwater bounced off of her shoulders as she descended into the sewers.
This place was the definition of loathsome to her. Water she did not mind; pure, crystalline drinking water, the kind of water that rippled within the Pool of Stealth. This tainted water beneath the city, filled with feces and urine and any other assortment of necrotic waste, made bile rise in her throat every time she happened by the entrance to these convoluted passageways. In this moment, though, these factors did not contribute to her decision as she plunged into the darkness. The fermenting liquid splashed on her leggings and sullied her shoes, and nausea swept through her stomach as she hit this proverbial wall of stench, but she did not hesitate more than a moment before pressing onward. Though their association only consisted of a few meager weeks, the akkaio knew quite well that Erythros would be coming here to try and escape. She’d deduced long ago that, for whatever reason that baffled her idea of logic, that bothersome little elf liked it down here.
Blast you. I’m going to rip you apart, when I find you. Blast you, blast you, blast you!
Her footfalls were enough to distort her sense of hearing. Typically even in darkness, her other senses could make up for the lack of light. The lack of sight. But here, where the tunnels looped in a tumultuous way, and where the rancid scent permeated the air about her muzzle, she could not rely upon those other innate abilities. She had to be able to hear.
All manner of vulgar cursing droned in her head as she snapped off the clasps holding her boots to her feet. She gagged and her gut wrenched as her bare feet touched the soiled ground, the sod squishing up between her toes. To provide solace, she envisioned forcing that dermorian to take a sterilized, miniature brush to her feet until every last speck of sewage was gone. She thrust her muddy boots into her travelsack, too inflamed to care that the muck on them was then allowed free access to the other hapless contents of her bag. Again, she began her mad dash into the sewers, deeper into the grime, and closer to her deprecating friend.
Because he was belittling. He was pathetic. It had been a long, long time since she’d felt this level of insurmountable indignation running through her person. The casual and careless contact that came from day to day life, she could forgive. She could forgive that easily, because who in their right mind would stop to think that such benign gestures could be bone-rattling to her pathetic person?
This...this was different. He had known. She’d told him how it was, how she felt. What had happened to her, and the effect it had. And that man...that worm had taken that knowledge and used it against her. Used it to intentionally hurt her. His fingers groping at her neck had wreaked havoc on her stability, torn a gaping hole in her self-confidence. And he’d all done it with flickering red eyes of rage. A lip curled up in disgust at the recent recollection. Disgust with him. But more, disgust at herself. At her own weakness, this Achilles heel that she could not seem to eradicate no matter the passage of time nor the attempts at denial. She was broken, and he’d made that fact surface in bold and embarrassing relief. He was going to pay for that.
Now traveling in relative silence, her ears tuned to sound and her palm emitting the faintest red glow, Mariana could hear him somewhere up ahead. Hear his heavy breathing and tireless running. Running away from her. As you should, you scrawny wretch. Wait until I get my hands on you...
A confession of love! That was what had been eagerly dancing on his tongue, what he had been extending to her. The fact sent another wrathful tremor through her bones. Love, and yet his first act after this admonition was to harm. To discredit that love by stating that it was wrong, a perversion, a lie. Why, because of who she was? Did he think she was such an unworthy pile of refuse that he found it fun to toy with what was left of her emotions?
Mariana’s fangs dug into her lower lip as she skidded around a corner, sloshing the opposite wall with the dark, foul-smelling water. Her eyes fell upon him in the sparse half-light, emitted from an iron-wrought candle holder sticking out awkwardly from the wall. His face was cast in dark contrast by it. His red hair seemed to take on a glow, and it too obscured his expression as he began to turn towards the sound of her approach.
She lunged forward, paws extended, and shoved at him. Into him, a forceful push that sent him stumbling back against the moss-encrusted wall and below that rusty metal holder. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a sharp pain in those eyes. They were green again, bright green and pleading, with a depth of sorrow that stretched out and lashed at her heart.
It didn’t matter now. This elf was beyond the point of reconciliation.
“I don’t PLAY games!” Mariana shrieked, keeping her biting grip locked on Erythros’ shoulders. Her statement reverberated, magnified, through the tunnels. Menacing and infuriated, she held her face mere inches from his, glimmering white teeth visible.
Erythros’ hand flashed up, apparently not totally immobilized by her harsh hold. It curled around the frame of the candle, and in one swift downward motion he jerked the hidden switch. The wall behind him ground against the floor, the only warning before it swiveled with a frightening speed and delivered him, alone, into whatever doorway lay beyond. The stone slammed into Mariana’s paws and easily broke her grip, leaving her standing solo and gape-mouthed. It took her a moment to realize what had just happened, and when she did, she let out a guttural shout and slammed at the barrier that had imposed herself between Erythros and, in her mind, well-deserved retribution. She tugged at the same metal mechanism, but with no luck at reproducing the same results.
With a final vehement curse at the camouflaged entrance, she clenched her trembling fists at her sides and stalked out of the sewers.
~~
Ixi Veno.
Erythros stumbled onto the path, grabbing the torch that was slung into the wall out of sheer forced habit. He held it low to light his steps, but other than that simple movement, seemed almost catatonic as he traversed this concealed underpass.
Ixi Veno.
He kept that thought repeating in his head, over and over, a loop re-play to encourage the numbness that had settled over his nerves. The Whisper did not speak to him, seeming content to leave him in his own bitterness and self loathing. That was the truth of it. Only when it needed him did it contact him. In this morbid mockery of affection, it kept him locked in addiction to it, unable to escape from the tangled web of deceit and lies and promises of enlightened understanding. More enticing than anything was the promise of knowledge, and with each passing day it seemed that promise became more hollow and empty. Sand leaking out from between his fingers. A tree carved out by termites and left as a plaything for passing winds. He hated the whisper, hated it, hated...
IXI VENO!
The halls were full of ritualistic chanting, melding together to form an incoherent cacophony that usually would have been welcomed in his ears. The robed figures gathered around the unnatural, flickering black light would have been a sweet invitation to home.
The doubt had infected him like the plague. He could fight it no longer. It was true; it had consumed all of him. He could no longer even manage to delude himself into believing otherwise. For so long he had somehow held to the belief that ultimately good could come of the killings, but this blissful ignorance was to be his no longer. His eyes had been opened to peer into the depths of his own soul, and the revulsion that this revelation caused shook him to the core.
A red carpet appeared beneath his feet, the final announcement that he’d come to the end of his journey. The sight of it had his innards in knots now. He moved down it, past the long pew-like benches, past the prostrate followers of the Flame, up towards the altar where the most prevalent source of its power flickered. Black fire, nothing natural about the substance. Fire was supposed to provide life and light, but this stuff, this leached both from wherever it could manage, wherever it could touch. The thought that his passions had once offered sacrifices to this thing, the fact that they still did, nearly induced vomiting.
His feet stumbled up the few stairs that allowed access to the Flame’s pedestal. He stood before it, nothing more than a wisp of a man now, reduced to emptiness, to a dead thing on stubbornly moving legs. The sound of a throat clearing, his own throat, cut through the constant steady chanting that danced in the air, and he waited for a moment, staring into the heart of that unholy fire.
“Ixi Veno,” he rasped out, running his tongue along his lips. “Ixi Veno.”
“Hah! Good, good, pet. Well done! Well, well done.”
The Whisper’s pleasure sickened him now, and he tried to squelch that effect. It could peer into his thoughts, see his emotions, peel past the layers and...
“Layers? Please, don’t flatter yourself. I’ve heard your inner commentary the moment you stepped into my domain.”
Erythros froze, every muscle and tendon tensing to attention. His breathing stopped, bated, waiting. It would surely kill him now. It would reach out and wrend his very soul from his body. If he even had a soul left after everything he had done. It would flay his flesh from his seemingly ancient bones.
“Oh please, I’m far more creative than that, you’re so incredibly cliche.” The voice curled around his mind, playfully caressing it, nibbling at his ears. “You really don’t think I saw this coming, my unwitting little adulterer? You really don’t think I knew all along how this would end?”
Nails drove into his chest, red-hot as though they had just been pulled from the furnace, and he crumpled to his knees with a shout. All he could see was red, pulsating read; watching his own arteries and vessels beating with fleeting life right before his eyes. The heat centered in his mind and he screamed as it pierced through him, digging into the base of his skull, wracking his body with spasms of pain. It latched onto the various nervous centers in charge of mitigating the severity of agony and plucked at the strings as though they were a lute, making his nerve endings all cry out in tormented anguish together as one.
He couldn’t even take in enough air to scream.
“ADULTERER!” It accused, the pinpricks of pain now traveling towards the red tattoo on his arm. It wreathed beneath his skin, the mark of his unceasing dedication that he had readily taken into his own flesh. Now the Flame used that decision against him, utilized the physical manifestation of property to increase his tortured senses tenfold. “ADULTERER! How dare you think you could get away from me? Hide the truth from me? REVOLT you, do I? After all this time together, you thought you could simply walk out and turn your back on me?!”
Erythros curled up on the ground, a fetal position, a defeated position. Tears leaked from his eyes and formed rivulets down his face, a wet and consistent trail. He just wanted to die now, Dakkru’s realm be damned. Being entrapped there forever would surely be better then all of this. Mariana hated him now, as she always should have, and the arms of his perverse phantasmal lover were now locking him in a fatal stranglehold. Perhaps it would even provide him with true death.
“Kill you, heretic? Oh, that end would be far too sweet for you, my precious traitor.”
The flame withdrew its spiked tendrils and left him gasping for air, writhing on the ground, hands desperately trying to find something to latch onto.
“No. That wouldn’t be enough. Far too merciful. I’m going to destroy you utterly, heretic. But I’m not going to have the grace to tell you how it shall be done.” An uncanny giggle clattered amongst the sparse crowd, the onlookers that watched this display with a mingle of shame and fear. This was the punishment for betrayal.
Erythros found himself forced to his feet by two other followers of the flame. He did not have the energy to even raise his head to look about him, at the high-vaulted ceiling and the archaic writings scrawled upon the age-weathered walls. Those holding him up were anonymous beneath their hoods, but it was strange to know that at one time he likely would have called them friends. Accomplices with an alike mission and steady purpose. Now they had betrayed him, saw him as an ill-functioning body part that could no longer serve its purpose and so must be separated from the integral system. Such a fluctuation could not be allowed to persist in these hallowed halls, and so must be dealt with accordingly. Their grip upon his arms was icy and dug into his very bones, a pinching and callous sort of grasp that took away any inclination of compassionate understanding or notion of companionship with the elf. That, too, confirmed the proclamations he'd been musing in his head since his entrance to this place.
Now he was on the outside looking in, and suddenly what he thought was beautiful was revealed to be more hideous than anything he could have imagined before. The velvet draperies that swirled with deliciously rich colors no longer held their attractive appeal. These ancient halls that had once clutched the very vestiges of promise and baffled his mind with tales of history no longer eluded to such high and lofty presumptions. Now it all looked old, just old, a cult that had long ago burst into existence from hatred and deviously masked itself in false veils of wisdom and seductive deceit. It had crooked a finger beneath his chin when he was still young and full of vitality, and then had vilified him before he actually connected the dots and came face to face with the condemning nature of his crimes. An empty dilapidated shack upon a hill, these regal labyrinths that he had thought only hid themselves among the sewers had now become as one with them.
“You will finish your mission,” The Whisper continued, again stroking his thoughts with ethereal fingers. “You will see to it that that ever so precious little priestess utters her confession, or I shall kill you...” It halted, and again that raucous laughter presented itself, biting and totally manic. “No. No, not that. If you do not, I will chain you to that wall...”
The dermorian weakly raised his head and stared at the brittle looking cuffs welded to the stones indicated, and his eyes were upon them when the whisper continued its verdict.
“And I shall force you to watch as I skin that little akkaio of yours alive.”
Reserves he didn’t know he had presented themselves at this proclamation. His back arched and he struggled against the men’s holds, screaming and crying out in protest. “No! No! You won’t! I won’t let you, I’ll...”
“Silence!”
The pain descended upon his head again and he slumped down, nearly rendered an unconscious heap in the sheer force of it. His head bobbed limply upon his neck and his arm throbbed, the colors of that tattoo going from a muted red to the inky candor of blood. It almost appeared to have been set aflame.
“You will do as I have requested, or I promise you, my pet. I shall do precisely that.”
A shudder traveled down the length of Erythros’ spine, and his chest heaved in ultimate dejection, in defeat. For there was nothing left for him. His leather shoes scraped against the floor as the men dragged the empty husk of an elf away.
-
I'm not sure I conveyed quite the emotion I wanted to and I may add some stuff later, but since I haven't posted in a blue moon I figured I'd just add it anyway. ;D
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:thumbup:
That is all.
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:-[
\\o// Glad you liked it.
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thrilling
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This is surprisingly hard to do with a broken chat log. Man I wish I hadn't had my computer wiped. Mrrrr.
Since I haven't yet, thanks to all those who did fill in vital bits and pieces. \\o//
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hm... reading your story makes me want to work on a part where Jilata joined that mess... :whistling:
I really enjoy reading it :)
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Hey, if you're inspired to write, write away! (Just promise to let me read it when you're done ;))
Glad you guys enjoy it. \\o// :love:
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Not sure if I'll finish this or not, unless it's wanted. Story's kinda stagnated, I took too long to write it after the fact and working with broken logs is pretty much impossible.
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BUT WE HAVENT HAD THE DRAMATIC CLIMAX!
Finish it yo! Just ask whoever was there to hand you any log bits you didn't have, or take artistic license and make up what you cant remember
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/me snickers. "Alrighty then, batman. Just for you."
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/me snickers. "Alrighty then, batman. Just for you."
*Travosh feels special
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Stepping back out into the open air cleared the raging fenki’s thoughts. She sagged against the cement wall for a moment, taking the breeze in through her muzzle to chase out the last potent remains of sewage scent. Her whiskers quivered slightly at the stirring of wind, and she moved towards the nearest fountain, calmly washing the grimy muck from the soles of her furry feet until none of it remained. Eyes fixed on the now cloudy water, she bid her train of thought render itself coherent once more. Bid that her anger dissipate and disperse, since it did her no good to cling to it. Emotion fogged the mind and rendered thoughts incapacitated. Far better to gain control and then re-evaluate the situation at hand with clearer vision.
Paws braced against the edge of the fountain, Mariana watched her flickering reflection, somewhat tarnished by the mire still swirling upon its surface. Now that the searing sensation of of animosity had abated, the face that stared back at her held an almost mournful expression. She reconsidered the events that had transpired without the taint of being victimized, but rather what had been going on inside of the perpetrator’s head. In truth, he had not physically hurt her. A cornered, injured animal that had launched a counter attack where there wasn’t an initiation to begin with. The more she let the images replay, the more she regretted the way she had reacted. He may have been a cornered animal, but she’d played the antagonist who prodded it with a stick. She’d only honed in upon his transgressions and disregarded the other cues his expressions had provided.
The akkaio raised her paw and cut through the surface tension of the water with claws unsheathed, tearing streaks through the steadily rippling mirror. The last of the tainted mud disappeared in a miniature vortex down the fountain’s drain. She formed a bowl with her paws, letting the liquid leak back out between her fingers and splashing her own face to enforce more clarity. Tiny rivers trickled down the bridge of her nose and from the corners of her eyes, her visage now giving the inkling that she had been weeping. Not one for such an indication, the fenki snapped her fingers and dried her fur with a quick burst of heat, swiveling on her heel and listening to her feet pad padding softly upon the earth.
Solace. She needed more time to think, time to organize her thoughts into a precise and compendious document so that she could better interpret the text. There was more going on here than met the eye, that much she was certain of. All she needed to do was to figure out precisely what was being enacted behind the curtain, and then all of the undecided and baffling events would fall neatly into place.
“Mahiana!”
The akkaio jerked her head up at the voice, knowing it all too well. She emerged from the alleyway just in time to see Miomai bounding towards her, a bundle of exuberant, inexhaustible energy. The clamod skidded to a graceful halt by somersaulting head-over-heels and landing with her arms stretched over her head in victory.
“Mahiana, we should go PREY for Dakkru!” She clasped her paws together beneath her chin and implored her with wide, black, shimmering eyes. Her nose twitched to add to the effect, and although her appearance was ragged and the suggestion rather violent in nature, her tendencies were disturbingly childish.
Smiling with familiarity at her non-rhotic friend, Mariana reached out to give the top of her head an affectionate rub. Miomai's hind leg beat the ground in a steady rhythm in response, and the akkaio chuckled to herself, already feeling some of the tension lifting from her shoulders. The fact that the small fenki before her was what one might consider a sadistic killer didn't seem to phase her; she'd always seen Miomai as a child that needed guidance rather than an iron fist of judgement. Although she was fully grown, the armored enkidukai held firmly to this belief, and had refused to give up on the clamod through numerous boughts of insanity. She understood all too well how difficult it was to overcome adversity, and though their challenges were different in nature, this truth held fast within her moral compass.
“Sure, Crazy Twin,” she replied. “We'll go prey for Dakkru.”
The clamod's face shifted with delight, and she pranced off towards the arena, her daggers already flashing into her hands and weaving in an eager fashion. Mariana followed, descending the stairs away from the tavern and the exit of the sewers, her mind on other things.
Stepping out onto the plaza, Mariana was about to call out to Miomai and request that she slow in her hasty retreat for game when her gaze fell upon Erythros. He was standing five paces from her, his face filled with pain and his eyes pleading. He was half-hidden by the balustrade that marked the beginning of the stairs, but he was there, plain as crystalshine.
“Fancy seeing you here, Erythros,” she called, proud that her voice remained stable and steady. She had been sure to temper herself before leaving the fountain, and she thanked herself for that forsight now. She certainly hadn’t expected to see the elf again so soon, but she was quickly learning that she likely would never be able to predict his actions.
There was remorse in his eyes as he stepped forward. He held his arm strangely, limp and immobile by his side, and he had trouble meeting her gaze.
“Who's the ELF?!”
Miomai had bounded back towards them, sensing perhaps an intriguing development. She observed with mild curiosity for a moment, arms crossed over her chest, and then spontaneously began to groom her fur as though Erythros were no more interesting than a stain upon her coat.
Raising her paw, Mariana beckoned to the dermorian. He approached as bidden, but with an agonizing slowness, dragging his feet upon the stone floor, gaze downcast. His hair fell before his brow so that she could not peer into his eyes, and this bothered her greatly. They would be her only warning.
“Erythros, this is Miomai, my...friend.”
In response to the introduction, the clamod let out an ear-shattering cackle and pointed straight at the elf, proclaiming: “Looks like you've got him TRAINED!”
Mariana watched as he drew nearer, and his despondence melted away the remains of her anger. Her eyes softened, and she placed one foot in front of her, waving again, encouraging. “Come closer, Erythros. I wish to speak with you.”
~~
He forced himself to look up at her. Forced his eyes to lock with hers, even though it brought out his retributive guilt like an electric jolt. His feet were moving of their own accord now, no longer controlled by his higher brain functions but forced forward by the steadfast actions and signals of his brain stem.
“DO as she says!” The other enkidukai was saying, but her presence barely registered. The only thing he could think about was the danger Mariana was in, the danger he had put her in by allowing himself to get too close. She stood smiling at him, of all absurdities, and her voice held only concern, instead of the wrath he had surely earned.
“Where have you been, my friend? I've been...looking for you.”
His legs gave out, no longer having the conviction to carry onward. He sunk to his knees and looked up at her, and made the selfish request that he longed to make, rather than the admonishment that would have kept her safe: “Forgive me.” The sharp, cloying, heated feeling of tears crept up the back of his throat and lined his eyes with moisture. His arm throbbed with a keener pain, but keener still was the knife twisting in his gut. He had to make a decision. Had to warn her about the impending doom, and force her away from himself. To save her.
She was confused, of all things. Utterly dumbfounded by his display. It was evident on her face, and in her words as she addressed him.
“Well, being left in a sewer alone isn't my favorite circumstance, but my word, Erythros.”
Miomai let out another cackle and again indicated him with her finger, her claw unsheathed in her excitement. “I need a sehvant that sinks to his knees befoah ME!”
Mariana did not acknowledge the other fenki's words. She stepped forward and closed the gap between them, stooping down to join him on the cold stone floor instead of standing above him. She moved to try and tug at him, to pull him to his feet. “Come, stand up. It's alright, I forgive you. Please.” Her paw hovered over where he held his arm against his own body, to minimize its jostling. “What happened?” She asked, voice swathed with concern.
The tears tore past his eyes with a violence. His chest heaved with a sob, and he was unable to look at her any longer. His shame was a force that bent his head, made him look down and away from her. His fingers dug painfully into the throbbing tattoo beneath his sleeve and added to its tormented state, attempting to distract himself from the internal sense of self-condemnation.
Look at her! Look at what you have done! She cares for you, and here you sit, ready to feed her more lies, endangering her with your mere presence. You will be the death of her, and she will die with spite in her voice and scorn for your name.
The feel of arms wrapping around him only increased his sobbing, because now she was giving more of herself, facing her phobia in an attempt to comfort him. Her armor was chilling, a stark contrast to the warm heart it protected. “Erythros! It's alright, I am not angry with you!” She exclaimed, and he once again looked up to peer at her. A smile cracked her face, amiable, inviting. “See? It's alright, I forgive you,” she reassured.
“She fohgives too EASILY!” Miomai stated, punctuating the truth with a thump of her hind foot against the ground.
She's right. If you only knew, Mariana. If you only knew, you'd understand that not even you have the capacity to forgive what I am.
“You're injured,” she continued, while he tried to regain control of himself. Her paw hovered over his arm, and before he could stop her, she began to channel pure white energy into the arm. Letting it seep into his tattoo.
“NO!” He shrieked, trying to grab at her wrist. But it was too late, and his body was swarmed once more with that pins-and-needles pain, up and down his spine, a volley that continued repeatedly and reached a point that nearly left him unconscious. It would have, had he not felt it before. As it was, he simply sat there, incoherent as he tried to withstand the assault.
Her spell dissipated and she rocked back on her heels, jerking her paw out of his grip instantly and breaking the contact. The clamod said something more, a threat, but it was lost upon him entirely and he did not have the breath nor the motivation to respond.
“If he doesn't want HEALING, he must want HUHTING!” Miomai shouted, the eagerness to inflict more pain all too noticeable in her tone. He could feel her warm breath somewhere behind him, upon his scalp, and he very nearly pleaded with her to simply kill him and end it there. End it all. Her breath drew closer and he felt it near his ear, whispering a promise of escape? No, to goad: “What'll it be, elf? Moah sobbing?”
No. Not more sobbing, fenki. No more sobbing.
His eyes snapped open. He felt something click into place, the will to fight. And his new purpose was quite clear as he looked up at Mariana. He could see her fur being burned from her flesh, or worse, being skinned to reveal the muscles and sinews that lay beneath her pelt. Could envision the Whisper carrying out its heinous threat and using her as a decoration for its unholy walls. The idea of having to walk past it time and again, and again, knowing who it belonged to, knowing that her demise had been his own doing...
“Please, don't,” he managed to rasp out, his eyes still locked on Mariana as he spoke. She mistook him for addressing her and raised her paws, palms facing him.
“No, alright, I won't try to heal you. I am so sorry, I was trying to help.”
The sadness in her was potent. It struck him in the chest; this fact that she was so moved by the idea that she had injured him, even unintentionally. Compared to everything he had done to her, everything that he might cause her, and she was concerned for him.
“I know, I know,” he whispered, forcing his lips to form a faint, ghost-like mockery of a smile. It was all he could offer, but he owed her that much. Owed her a strong facade to help her get through this situation. He was determined that she would not know...
“Tell me what is wrong, so I can help,” she demanded, her eyes flashing with fury. She was angry at his condition, and she wanted revenge for it. The idea was absurd, but it was fact, and it terrified him. Mariana would charge headfirst into the sewers and try to tip the flame over if she knew his situation. Granted, most of that would be purely from ignorance, from not understanding what a truly vile thing the flame was, but she would still do it. And she would die.
“Please, Mariana, you can't...” He stammered, trying to push himself up with the arm that was still capable of moving. Her expression shifted from soft to harsh, a snarl and sneer molding across it. Her words were darts to him, even though she spoke them on his behalf.
“Who do you think I am?!” she said, “If you've got enemies, I'll fight them. If you've got wounds, I'll mend them. I am your FRIEND, Erythros, not your enemy!” she narrowed her eyes, hesitantly put out a paw to assist him in rising. “And I am not weak.”
He reached forward and tried to calm her with his words as he pulled himself up, “I know you are, Mariana. I know you are...” He assured, attempting to placate her.
Miomai felt it necessary to chime in once more, her shrill voice breaking through the tension and making itself known with admirable force: “Nope nope, not weak! She'll kick yoah behind befoah you knew wheah it was!”
“Everything I ask of you, or do. I do because I want to protect you, Mariana,” he continued. He was going to have to beg her, for he had tried forcing her away and she had proven far to stubborn for such a methodology. “Please, understand that.” If fear or resentment towards his own person did not work, then perhaps he could inspire fear in the unknown, and in that fear, keep her safe.
No such luck.
Mariana grinned fiercely, her eyes suddenly glinting. “I don't need protecting, Erythros." She swished her tail, her demeanor uncharacteristically far from calm as her determination grew in volume. “If someone's hurting you, let me go after them.” She frowned. “I didn't get the chance to go after my own demons. Let me hunt yours.”
To finish her statement, she looked up at the buoyant clamod and inquired: “What do you think, Miomai? Think I could take on a couple of thugs?”
“Not without MY help, EVIL TWIN!” Came the instant reply. Those daggers twirled eagerly in furry fists, as though she was already contemplating running through the presumed enemy and enjoying every trickle of blood it produced.
Panic shuddered through him, along with the realization that nothing he could say could steer her from this course. Nothing, perhaps, save the outright truth. And such a revelation was a more terrifying concept than any he'd ever encountered before. The idea that she would hate him, and rightfully so, jarred his system nearly to shock.
He suppressed it.
“You cannot hunt them, Mariana,” he said, urgency tinging his tone. “If you try to help me, they will only hunt you. And however badly I may want...” he trailed off and looked down, forcing even his mind to unhitch from that tangent. Such fantasies would only invoke more pain. “It cannot...It is not possible. Please.”
A snort issued from her already flared nostrils, and if she caught the tone of his near confession, she gave no hint of it. The walls she'd secured around herself were far too thick for such an intrusion. “I don't care who you're involved with,” she insisted. “The darkest of darks. The depths of the Death Realm. The cultist Black Flame. You are my friend, and I will not stand by and do nothing.”
The Black Flame.
Even this, tossed out so quickly, and with such confidence. He knew of her past, now, she had shared it with him. He could never understand how one so exposed to the horrors of reality could keep her head above water with such assurance, how she could completely deny the effects darkness had upon the world with her flippant dismissals.
Because she has to believe it, he realized. She has to belief she can fight it off. It is part of her defense. She has to believe she can survive anything, because to show her weakness in defeat is her deepest fear.
He hit her where he knew it would cause a stagger. “I know you, Mariana. I know that you would never leave me to spiral down in the dark. It is only because of that that I said and did what I have done. Because I care for more about you than I would have known, and cannot bear to see anything happen to you on account of you struggling to help a doomed cause.”
Affection. She cowers in the face of it, does not know how to react to it. Too lost in her own pitiful state of self worthlessness. Perhaps in this way, I can drive a wedge...
Mariana's jaw dropped, her expression bewildered at his confession. She shook her head back and forth, clearing her throat. “Ah...” she blinked rapidly, brain trying to recover and form a substantial rebuttal. “You...aren't a doomed cause, Erythros,” she said finally. “Tell me, do you feel regret for what you have done?”
I do not, save for what it could do to you. He had to make this personal confession to himself. He had not changed, for the longest time he had served the Black Flame and wielded its power in his eyes and in his veins. He had relished the feel of it coursing through his veins and arteries. Not until he saw from eyes not his own was he struck with the reality that what he served was a malevolent lie.
“I regret what I have done because it keeps me from you.”
Mariana frowned deeply at him. He could see the doubt already clouding her eyes. She did not believe his statement, for it did not synch with her warped interpretation of reality. "I'm no prize, Erythros. I'm just your average high-strung, stubborn Fenki. With enough baggage to crush an army of Clackers. But I want to help you."
Miomai seemed to grow rather bored of this exchange suddenly, and with the attention span of a sparrow that has ingested far too much yarrow, she turned around and bounded off, leaving them to continue their conversation with a simple statement: “WELL, this is boring. HAVE fun you LOVEBIHDS!”
An interesting one, that.
“Again, you don't understand. You are a prize beyond compare, a jewel without equal."
His words only served to bother her, it seemed. Her claws were digging at that scar on her wrist, and she drug them across mercilessly, leaving bleeding scratches in their wake. "Look,” she snapped. “This is hardly about what I am or what I am not. This is about me, helping you. What I am is irrelevant." She continued to assault the raw bit of flesh, the scowl forming again on her face as she grew increasingly frustrated with his lack of cooperation.
"Let me see your wrist, Mariana,” Erythos said softly, putting his hand out towards her in an offer to take it. Let me see the physical ramifications of the mental torment I've put you through.
She refused, dismissing its importance, and continued her barrage of inquires. It was clear she would not relent. She would not let up until she knew his story. Only by that confessional, could he hope to drive her away forever. He had to do what he had feared the most, and looking at the blood steadily weeping from the trivial wound, he knew he had to sacrifice in order to assure Mariana's safety. And if that was what it took, that was what he would do.
“Come,” he intoned, and gestured towards the secluded gazebo beside the Laanx temple. He strode forward without awaiting her reply, dread already climbing into his heart. Come, and allow me to forever sever the bond between us. Come, and I will tell you of the monster I truly am.
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Alright, I'm going to need some more help for me to continue this. I've got the interactions between Erythros and Mariana, but I NEED the interactions between the other characters, anything that involved this story. Mariana and Erythros don't have to be present in these interactions, in fact it's preferable if they are not, because likely those are the ones I will not have access to. PM me these interactions if you can, it would be much appreciated.
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Miomai is non-rhotic (thanks to Aramara for that word), though she's probably horrible at rhetoric as well. ;)
Keep up the excellent writing, we're all eager for each new instalment.
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probably best if you tell the people you want info from, most of these people arent psychic!
Next part should prove interesting...
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Another letter. Yet another letter had been delivered, a second, because apparently the first had not been nearly enough to cause the necessary amount of anguish this faceless villain was so doggedly eager to inflict. And for what? What motive could he possibly have, what motive could he possibly wish too satiate with this elaborate plan? Dannae knew she had no truth that anyone would be interested in. She had no secrets, at least not any that would placate the needs of this individual by their divulging.
It wasn't fair, really. The abhorrent injustice of it was what weight on her mind now as she paced back and forth in the garden, the letter tightly clutched in her left hand. It simply wasn't fair. Who was she, but the leader of a peaceful guild? One that promoted love and understanding, forgiveness above all else. If she knew this person, indeed, if the others in her organization knew, they would surely be eager to help them, to deliver them from this corruption!
Would you really?
Her pacing halted at the internal query, and her head bobbed upwards. She strode past the gate of Xiosia's garden, out of the sight of the natural manifestation of her goddess where perhaps her darker thoughts would be hidden from those oaken eyes. Would you really be so eager to jump in and rescue rather than hurt? After all that's been done. Your friends threatened. Your lover nearly killed after you shouted her name...
Ixi. She'd hoped that perhaps by stating her name she could be saved. But, no. Instead, an eruption of fire and coals from the forge, mysterious in nature but certainly not without aim, had sent her spiraling down into the depths of the Realm. To the very place that she'd so hoped to keep her from. Ixi herself had suffered at the hands of Dakkru far too many times, and for far too many years. The trip there had been a difficult one for her, perhaps more difficult for most, and though she was out here in the fresh air and crystal shine again it would take her some time to recover from the tragedy in both mind and body.
Her footfalls were audible as her heartbeat, the bare skin of her soles slapping the cobblestones as she walked aimlessly. She knew not what to do any longer, knew not where to turn, and instead of a mail-storm of sorrow a new and sharper emotion was building up and pulsating through her. Rage. Righteous and pointedly aimed, all she wanted to do was get this perpetrator's neck between her hands and dig her polished nails into their skin. Twist their trachea to the point of snapping, if she could. Perhaps her reaction might have been more merciful if it had only been her life they had decided to threaten, but instead they had chosen a path far more grave and horrid. They sought to destroy the lives and well-being of those she cared about most, and she found her typically docile and complacent spirit churning at the wrongness of it.
The tunnel opened up to the plaza, and the bustling clueless people therein. She looked at them without truly seeing, her mind a blank, a haziness that traveled to the clouded look in her eyes. She wanted it over, that was all. Over and done. All she wanted was to know that her friends were safe and well-cared for. That no murderous monster was lurking in the corners and waiting eagerly for their names to spill past her lips, so that the others might be saved from their voracious thirst for blood.
Is it truly so much to ask, to be requited the peacefulness we try to bring into this place? The sound of her feet moving halted as she brought herself to a stop, somewhere between the tavern and the Den, alone amidst a throbbing crowd of unknowing passersby. The steady beating of her heart was still pounding in her ears, and she listened to it slow down as a result of her ceased walking.
All this time, all we've sought is to cherish life. To encourage this deep respect, and cultivate it amongst all others. All this time, this guild has been built upon such a foundation, such a noble cause. To be caught up in this mindless inquisition...this game of roulette without cause or purpose. To expose a secret that surely is nowhere near worth the lives it has already endangered!
It was coming back again, her anger, no matter how hard she tried to squash it. It brought about those violent thoughts, retributive, thoughts that refused to align themselves with the overwhelming goodness of her goddess. But she found that she could not stop them, no matter how she wished she could. They came anyway, fueled by her own thoughts. Her fists tightened, and she heard the crinkling of that paper, felt it crumble between her fingers as the blood rushed out of them. Swept away by this tide of fury, she threw her head back and began to shout things. She didn't care that people turned to stare at her, and this half-crazed banshee that was screaming up at the top of the dome. No, all she cared about was this evil thing that was threatening the foundations of everything she loved and cared for. She might make herself look the fool, but she was dead set on forcing them out to meet her face to face.
“Come out, you coward! Come out!”
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Jilata has kindly written an exerpt regarding her character's involvement in this part of the story, so I figured I'd make an entry where she could post it. Thanks, Jilata!
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/me buries her head between hands recalling that day. "If it wasn't me, I'd sure have wondered what had gotten into that freak!"
I did have a great time RPing that whole scene hoping the gms wouldn't shut me up for spamming shouts. It's not often she gets to go crazy like that.
:thumbup: I enjoyed reading your description of things from Dannae's point of view leading up to her meltdown. For accuracy, in the actual RP, this happened after receiving a 3rd threat letter, the first of which resulted in iXi being harmed, and the 2nd in the sabotage on Shadow's weapon also resulting in injury.
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Heheh, Wish i was on for the scream fest, woulda been entertaining.
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Jilata entered the plaza, walking slowly and trying to hold her anger back. She didn't like what was currently happening. Dannae was in danger and she couldn't do anything. That changed. She had a name of the one who was supposed to be the culprit now. Her eyes passed over the plaza, searching for the figure of her friend.
“Who are you dammit? Why don't you show yourself coward? ” Her head turned into the direction of the shout. Another letter reached Dannae? It couldn't be... not this fast! A slight growl left her throat as she walked over to the Nolthrir. “Come out and show yourself..then I'll give you what you want!”
The Akkaio looked worried at the elf. She knew the feeling. And there was nothing she hated more than an invisible enemy. One, she could never do anything against. She stopped another growl from raising in her throat. “Dannae? Everything alright?”
The woman kept looking over the plaza, ignoring the fenki behind her. “Dammit.... come out coward!” Jilata flattened her ears on her head. “I didn't know you could shout this well...”, she mumbled. Dannae... the peaceful, loving Dannae shouted over the plaza as if her life would depend on it. With the only difference, that it wasn't her life which depended on it. It was that of her friends.
Finally the Nolthrir turned to her, shaking on her whole body. A slight smell of sweat reached Jilata. Was it caused by anxious? Or from all that shouting?
“What happened?” She inquired with a low voice, even though she already had an idea on what was going on.
“I have another threat!” It was clearly visible how agitated the elf was.
Jilata's eyes narrow barely visible. No! So it really was that. That shouldn't have happened... Dannae was close to a break down. She would never let that happen. Not as long as she could avoid it. Hate filled her whole body and drew her claws. She wanted to hunt that guy who dared to threaten her friend. No one was allowed to do that...
Another elf stepped to the small group. “Another letter?” A needless question. It was obvious that she did get one.
Dannae threw the paper on the ground. The fenki lost her control a moment and a slight growl left her throat as she bent down and picked the paper up. It was similar to the first note. At least there wasn't another name of someone she really cared for.
“Tell me what the truth is!” The elf shouted over the plaza again.
Jilata read through the note again, to make sure she didn't miss anything. “Two names this time...” She mumbled to herself. She looked back up to Dannae and gave the note to an arriving Klyros.
“I can't choose one of them and I don't know the damn truth" The elf covered her face in her hands. “What am I to do? Why is someone doing this to me?” How much did she know? Did she have that name as well?
“I would have said hunt... if you know who to hunt...” The fenki didn't say the name on purpose. She tried to avoid getting the pull the Nolthrir into a fight. It was better if she stayed somewhere safe.
“It could be anyone.” An useless comment from the other elf.
Dannae eyed an Ylian who passed by. “Are you him?”
It was no good. She needed to catch that culprit or Dannae would be suspicious of every stranger. And that didn't suit her.
From the corner of her eye she watched the kid of the Klyros climbing up at him. “Do you have any clues at all?”
“Whoever it is... they must be somewhere close enough to hear me shout.”
“True, but they've picked a busy spot.” Added the female Dermorian.
She was right. Jilata started loosing her patience. She couldn't simply watch it. She had to do something...
A young fenki arrived at the small group. “Hello everyone” She said cheerfully, not reading the mood. She definitely was new to the city, seeing that she didn't have a clue on what was going on.
Everyone in the group turned to the stranger.
“Who are you?” Dannae asked, for a short moment distracted from the threat.
“I am Seyale.” She said smiling. “I am a young Enkidukai.”
Dannae's voice softened a bit. “I'm sorry, but maybe you shouldn't be here right now. There may be danger.”
The fenki looked disappointed. “Oh, ok...I was just trying to meet new friends...” She ran off, not listening to the explanation the Dermorian gave. “We're all a little tense right now, Seyale.”
It was good that she left. She didn't have a use for someone who could get in the way.
Dannae turned to face the plaza and shouted again. “Come out dammit... I'm not choosing this time! I won't choose anyone else for you sick people to harm!”
She needed to catch that guy before anyone else got harmed. Especially Dannae. “How much time is left?”
“None Jilata... none...” Dannae noticed another small group close to the explorers booth and pointed at them. “I think he might have something to do with this.”
Jilata looked at the group. She had passed by them earlier when she walked to Dannae. “Is that the guy Karlyle chased away the last time?” If it was, and she suspected that it was, then it might be the person they were looking for.
Dannae nodded. “Yes... I think so.” She paused a moment, then added. “There's something not right about him.”
The Klyros sighed. “Alright. Want me to go check them out?”
Jilata frowned, refusing to let an opportunity go to hunt the culprit. But at the same time she didn't want to leave Dannae alone without any protection. “Either you or me."
He looked to the fenki. “Both of us then.”
“I don't know... I don't want anyone getting hurt.” Dannae said concerned.
“Someone will get hurt if we don't do anything, Dannae.” That guy started it. He had chosen the wrong target for his actions. Now he had to accept the consequences for his actions...
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hmm... I added some more paragraphs to make it easier to read
@Mariana: I had some fun writing it. It let me recall that day. It was a really weird one to be true. Weird, but somehow fun. ;)