Vile...could...spit...tacks...made of iron...and poison....and and...he could flay flesh...in strips....to refinish...his couch at home! ANGER! Oh such blissful hate. He held it so close to his heart, his entire body shivered in ecstasy. If he had his cock still, how dirty would his robes be? Such a lurid thought brought a cackle to his lips. He bit down not letting it rise.
He had no words. NO FUCKING WORDS. Just thought, feeling, and terrible horrible news. That moment with Typhon told him so much. His eyes pierced Vile's as he revealed something devious learned at court. The Green Lady foretold...an exaltation. An...exalt...ta....tion. A FUCKING EXALTATION!
Why he should care, seemed rather dull and boring. But the problem was, for all of her amazing foresight and power, the damn lunar bitch could not see WHO, WHAT, WHERE this Exaltation was going to occur. Only that it would happen in the worst time possible.
CALI-FUCKING-BRATION.
And Vile, he knew people. Alot of fucking people. Like solars and lunars and demons and gods and poodles...maybe not poodles. But HE knew PEOPLE. And they knew him. This news, to be given to Vile, by TYPHON....FUCKING TYPHON OF ALL FUCKING PEOPLE...was a "really big deal yo". He still could not decide between glorious celebration....
.........orshittinghimselfohmyfuckingabyss.
And so Dane approached, and asked. And he rolled the dice of folly in his head, and decided to say something. The world seemed to stop suddenly. For one singular moment, there was nothing around him, but eyes and thoughts and magic. Essence coiled like serpents, warring against itself. But the crown of thorns formed, leeching away ever word he could speak. Every...word....spoken.
He had been writing them in Abyssal, in blood, on tables, for fucking HOURS. HOURS YOU BITCHES! RAWR! He needed Archimedes, like so bad. And when he thought upon his friend, he felt his friend think back. In a rush of power, Archimedes returned to his side. Oh thank the Abyss and dead baby diapers! He could have drunk the old man dry of blood he was so happy to see him. But then there was the problem of the abyssal-that-was-not-an-abyssal and his little flighty fucking friend, who Vile KNEW was totally gay. Like totally. GAY. Look at his clothes. GAAAAAAAY.
They chatted. They pandered. All the while, he just wanted to curl up like a kitten in Archimedes' arms...with Denlan in his mouth...yum. And he would let him. WHY? Cause that was LOVE MAN. Not GAY love either, just pure manly dark demon-fucking-love. Mmmmm.... The silver haired one stared at him all the time when Vile thought like that. Vile gave him a Not-In-This-Lifetime you GAY FREAK look.
Hours, days, nights, TIME fucking passed. Was he mad? Oh hells ya. STILL YOU BITCHES. Like writing...the whole time! The abyssal-that-was-not-an-abyssal would look at his writing, sometimes nod, sometimes shake his head. WHAT...THE...FUCK. And then he was gone. POOF. WHAT---THE---FUCKKKKKKK!
Alas, it all went away as soon as Aysel, the Shorn Heart, entered the room. Archimedes was a love and friend he could never part with. But Aysel, she was this weird kind of friend. Like a sister, he never had. She had protected him, cared for him, even when he tried to rape her countless times. Even when he stabbed her in the baby maker. And kicked her in the head. And slashed up her gowns to make her walk around in rags or naked that one week. Oh man, that was fun...
They had shared much, hiding away in Thorns. Or on business for the Mask. Archimedes hated her. That was ok with Vile, he hated Dane. It was like a drama for the stage. And then oh she wrote to him! And worked on letters to teach Archimedes! And when he asked her to do that, for him, she selflessly acted like it was her idea so Vile wouldn't be seen as weak.
Bless her.
And fuck her.
He wanted to rape her more than ever, to see her cry under the torturous fingers. To conjure a demon of dream about himself. He would appear as Dane. Rape her. And then she would run to his arms, and crying give herself to Vile. And he would love every terrible moment of it. Then rape her again. And suckle her entrails. Mmmmmmmmm. Who knows, Archimedes might like the idea!
And Dane seemed fine with it all. He was letting the corpse-like-man touch her breast, and hug against her hip.
Yum yum, baby. Yum...fucking...yum.
It was good to be the demon king. He was high fiving himself in his mind. SMACK!
"Where...am I?" Opal's head thundered like a drum, beat upon over and over. His clothing was torn, lip bloodied from biting it, his hair still half shorn, half in tatters. One horn felt chipped? His legged ached, unable to bend right. When he tried to move, pain shot through him causing him almost to scream.
"Yes, scream, scream some more." The men were rough in words, sneers and learning looks. One of them was waving a knife about gleeful about something. Another nearing. Confusion blurred his thoughts, and he tried to curl away again. Panic set in as part of him recalled the past hour or so, and part of him was actively sealing it all away.
The moon was lost behind clouds.
His eyes squelched closed as fingers dug into his hair. Old ale, cheap whores, soot and something terribly metallic filled his nostrils as he breathed, then choked. Why....why him...why here...
A soft sound of scuffle rose in the distance. And the man above him cursed in Rivertongue. The thwack and break of bottle sent a rainfall of tinted glass over Opal. Why was it raining glass? Hands laid on his shoulders as a man in a low brim hat huskily whispered. "My friend, I think we should be running. Can you?"
Opal could just shake his head, tears threatening his eyes. The lips of the hat wearing man became grim. "Hang onto me then. We need to move quick. Before they return with friends, ok?"
Wrapping an arm around his would-be savior, Opal choked on a sob and a cry from pain lancing up his twisted knee. "I...I just...Where..."
The man hunkered under the lunar, pulling him across his shoulders. "No lad, no words. Don't worry. I have a place we can hide in. But you have to trust me ok?" Opal nodded in a clumsy way. The man patted his hand. "Off we go!"
The two made their way through the throngs of Nighthammer, edging this way and that, until they got to a small tavern and coffee shop. It was old, befuddled, and rather dingy. The Peacock's Quill had once better days, when the university first held classes in Nighthammer. Now it was one of the last reputable establishments left.
The barkeep, an old crone of a woman named Melody, dropped her towel and cup to rush to the struggling duo's side.
"Sinclair, what in the heavenly stars is this? Was a noble assaulted?"
Looking up from the shadows of his hat, the eyes looked far more worried. "Worse, a celestial."
"By the dragons, last thing we need is that busy body O'deus a'comin'. Oh don't give me tha' look deary. Fine...fine...we take em to my room. In the back now, easy easy." She took up under the other arm, helping the minstrel take the lunar to the other room. By the time they arrived, Opal was a mewling mess.
"Ye know this lad? He seems ta be wearin' right smart frocks and has a peculiar look to em."
Sinclair shook his head, straightening his hat. "No, I don't. I have a friend that may know. Just seeing him means owing an answer." Gnawing on his lip, the minstrel cursed and dropped his own pack, and filled with his belongings for a long long trip. "Fate is a devil of a mistress, Melody."
The old woman laughed, cupping Sinclair's chin. "That it is. Known ye all me life, an' still ye have a boy's face. Yer curse, be a terrible one. I dun pity ye, Sinclair me love. I be watchful of the boy. You jus' find yer friend quicklike."
As he left in a swirl of faded old clothes, Melody neared the bright lad's side. Checking over Opal's wounds, she smiled a toothless smile. "Now dun ya fret, mi'lord, we take care o' ya."
But all Opal could do was look at the old woman, tear up, and proclaim, "I am the worst...lunar...ever!"
Avaku leaned into the saddle of his most trusted friend, Godin, as the sun gave a slow cresting over the rooftops of Nexus. In the edges of Sentinel Hill, he had found this one place of all places to just make out the water meeting the horizon. Despite the pleasures of the city, he could not suppress a shiver of apprehension when unable to see the edges of the world. "Too many damned people in one place. Sometimes, I miss the fields."
The horse gave a slight shake of head, eyes watching the far line of earth and sea as they stayed in place. The life of the city would force them from this perfect vantage. Until then, the damned populace could go around. One glance from the pair killed any annoying words they would give. Tugging free a glove, he ran his fingers against Godin's neck, scratching rough behind an ear peaking from the red jade adorning the stallion. Tail high, he pawed the cobbles with a crescent of sparks.
"I know my friend, you do not want to ride the galleon any more than I. But if we are to make for Greyfalls, we will need to take the ship. I just hope the coming of Calibration keeps the anathema in the jungle at bay." The horse gave a snort of ascent as they settled into the rhythm of breathing and being.
Avaku's eyes fell upon his hand, the ring of jade and metal so powerfully bound. The symbol of his marriage. The smile on his lips could not be denied. How he missed Minata. With practiced ease, he slipped free a small letter box, balancing it on the pommel. Tugging a sheet in place, dipping the quill in the travel inks, he began one of the many letters he sent to his beloved wife.
The waters near Nexus glow faintly this morn. I can see the small slips of ships leaving for deeper waters for fishing throughout the day. Galleons and warships fill the wharf, banners high, colors like a parade. I could imagine a treasure of the world in those ships, ferrying people from all lands in our blessed kingdom, and peoples wild, to the city. I saw a lady yesterday from such a ship with a ruby the size of our daughter's thumb in her navel. I saw a boy with his father, bringing in skeins of fabric the colors of your song birds. I miss our children. I miss you. I could color these pages with all things I have seen, but nothing would compare to your smile.
Minata, I desperately need you now. My letters in the West must have frightened you. Please, I beg your forgiveness if they did. The Legion and family is cruel to pull me from your arms so quickly after I arrived home. My love, I long for your thoughts, your counsel, and your words. After every battle in the West and North against the Fair Folk, I thought truly nothing could shake my faith or battle prowess.
But there, in the west, a child, no older than our own boy, shown with the false god's light. Marked as an anathema, pleading for help, tears dripping down his cheeks. I wanted to hold him, to comfort him and tell a joke as I do at home. But his forehead gleamed so bright, as a beacon to all the unholy powers that watch for their own in the skies. And by the order of the Immaculates and our own Blessed people, I had to kill him.
I ache, my heart. How can I condemn a child to death? Yet did I not save him from the false one's terrible possession? Why do I feel I have carved a piece of myself away?
Avaku peered into the distance again, thinking of the turmoil that raged within. Heat rose about him, burning into the air. Godin gave a flick of tail to bring him from those fiery thoughts. But the quill bent again to page, to add a few more thoughts before the day's heat forced them to rest.
I met a man tonight, after a few games of cards, that spoke with an understanding somewhat as my own. A young man, once of the Legion, he had gained his freedom yet in him I could feel the yearning for the structure and purpose of that life. He will return to the wars, but the freshness of his face, the simplicity of his beliefs, I fear what he will find in those fields is like the death of that boy. I have seen so much of death. Fighting to protect our lives while so far from home. Too many Fair Folk and Anathema to count. I may seek him for a drink before leaving to Greyfalls. It may be the last civil conversation I have for far too long.
Pray for me to the Dragons, my love. For after Calibration, the war truly begins. And I join the forces of the great Tepet Ejava. Do you think I should seek her autograph for our son, when I am the one that will treasure it? Ah, I can feel you laugh even now.
Laugh and live for me, Minata. I remember you with love.
"Your husband." Intently, he kissed the page, eyes still on the far sky.
With a secret, soft smile, Aysel pressed closed the door to the bathing chambers. So late in the eve, so early in the morn, few if any remained here. Slipping behind screens, her fingers deftly unbuttoned and laid aside layers of brocade and silk, colors the depth of wine and blood long spilled across onyx marble. So harsh and vibrant, unlike the glimmer of sapphire in her eyes, the sheen of burnished gold and aspen in her hair. A finer woman few could find.
Past clothing, the softness of skin fresh if pale near death's dominion, she moved without fear or folly of her own nakedness to a bath steaming hot and smelling of rose and lilac. She laughed in spite of her better sense, as she left ever jewel on, her hair still tight in curls held by one pearled comb. And why not? She had enjoyed a pleasant day, a wonderful reunion with Vile, and a glorious eve like none other she could dream of with Dane. Her dashing gentleman, the rogue dancer. Every look, every cautious touch, she sensed the truth in it. His desire for her was unique, not like Gaius. In so many ways, they were different. Strange how once seeing him again, she did not seek to compare the two.
They had moved as one throughout the night. No bounds overstepped. Full of surprises. He had a plan, and it had fallen apart. Devilishly, she was happier for that. Although he felt intense desire for her, she felt not exactly the same for him. Caution had lain about her heart and mind, fears of what happened before resurfacing so violently as to choke her breath. Would he doubt her heart? Abuse her devotion as Gaius had time and again? Would he seek to tempt her mind and heart with charms, as Demetrius had while they worked so closely in Whitewall?
Men above all had treated her more as a piece to be won and worn on a sleeve than as a friend or lover. So many laughed at her sensibilities. But why was wishing to be so devoted...so terrible?
With a sigh at herself, she tossed it all away as she did the bubbles now hiding the most demure parts of her body. No, the moment she saw Dane, how he stood by ready as she tutored Vile, as he handed the letters into her hands, as they danced, as she laid upon his shoulder in the crook of his arm...she knew.
She loved Dane. And in that love, she could not withhold her own happiness. Eyes downcast, lips smiling warmly, she washed, and sighed, laying back into the waters. Not even the words of the Mask of Winters could dampen her mood, and her decisions.
Was it not time?
And so she parted her lips, and hummed a song that had stayed with her since the night she took ship away from Gaius. The night he choose another, and closed any passage to her life. A song she recalled in the long hours at Demetrius' side, as they sought to bring some sense of light to the dark world, against such terrible odds. A bit of poetic verse that she sobbed when hiding in the city of Thorns, as they other tortured her for that painful innocence she held to.
Now the song would change again. The one the gentleman taught her. The one that scared Twiceborn. The one seers envisioned.
And after, she would dry herself, gather her nightgown and robe over her shoulders, and lay with Dane in ways she never had before.
Lyrics:
The first word in my dreams I could clearly see Planet Eden high beyond the skies
Beautiful and sad is this story I`ll tell of the winged travelers eager
`twas one day the wind guided him where to go like an eagle high above he flew
Waving from down below he flew out of sight into the mystical darkness
Neither a smile nor a cry I gave when he left feeling my spleen decline
And hoping one day we`d fly over back to the places we once shared
Where vessels glide in silky waves and of gold deep in the gulf such planet lies
Surrounded by this universe of love and hate confusion breaks through and dwells.
Cast a spell, from the old magic book. Set a path. In the black magic box, something strange will happen, it will take you so far. So try...We can fly, we have wings, we can touch floating dreams. Call me from so far through the wind in the light.
Someone came from the dark over from the stars. Protecting my heart from crying. Taken back by surprise my traveler returned. What went wrong? Why did he change?
They played their hearts, their souls. Nasuke, ears beautifully sculpted into points, golden dappled fur upon the edges. Those ears could discern such tune and tone, unlike any other. His eyes of sapphire glimmered behind spectacles of cut crystal. His locks were perfectly shorn, clothing fashionable and inviting with every color of the world caught in them. And his crafting of essence could lure life from the dead. So beautiful. So vibrant.
Sinclair wanted to pull his hair and slam his fiddle to the ground. Part of him swore never shaping, never crafting essence, held a strength of skill and beauty beyond any other. Yet in truth, he knew why he had not shaped in so very long...Heaven would know. Solars, Lunars, Sidereal, Yozis, all would know the King of Kings, the destroyer of Creation, had returned to the world.
He really did not want to face that...
And so he paced around his adversary, with the skill of his fingers, the stories of the lives he met, for the past few thousand years...against the damn upstart. His hair hung damp in his eyes, long and frayed brown. His dull eyes held an intensity of a spirit that would not bend or break. His fingers held callouses, chipped nails, old wounds from a love of a craft. Threadbare clothing held the marks of his own mending, hands adorned with fingerless ragged gloves, no jewels bedecked him.
The world grew smaller as they stalked each other. Nasuke gave such a raucous grin, sensing like before, he won before they true test began. His shaping of music began far long past. Yet one thing he, and all of those in Creation did not know, was the true identity of Sinclair.
"So Sinclair, I would not have believed you could stand before me again. With such a poor man's fiddle. Come now, your faith must be the only thing sustaining you." His voice held a mellowed edge that held nobility.
Sinclair did not respond with words. Instead, he did one thing he had not done before. He sang. Trilling notes lifted from his throat. Closing his eyes, he let the music fill him, rising as a bird, gathering about him, and filling those watching. Rather than shape essence with his will, he lured those that watched to shape it for themselves.
The magical moment awoke something so deep in him. Longing. A desire for his daughter, the world he once knew, to build something...to BUILD! Faces returned to him, lives held in his arms as their spirits fled from old age, sickness, and wounds. So many had joked of how he ran through the world. But in truth, he never forgot a single life touched.
As the final notes left him, his eyes opened so slowly. Nasuke watched him, tears in his eyes, whispering a single word. "Sireeliar."
A smile touched both of their lips. "A drink then, between friends."
As they settled at a table, the others closing in, Sinclair realized...he was alone. Completely. Alone. And the grins on those that surrounded him, at his table, in the tavern, all fae, all small gods and spirits, left him afraid.
The eve had been perfection. Aysel had often listened to her handmaids whisper of the sharing between lovers. They often chided her in a friendly way of her decision to remain so celibate. Her one true love had chosen another, which sent her running away into the cold north. Her circle knew she followed so quietly, in Gaius' footsteps, in some ridiculous idea that he would realize how she felt. Ages passed, leading her heart down a path of friendship with another...that warmed to affection, slow but significant. But that changed in a terrible act of betrayal. Time passed, the world remembered her, and Aysel took a new life. A gift, if terribly cursed.
Her first taste of passion left her desiring more. The affection she felt for Dane, becoming love, and blossoming in those kisses and hands. The day passed as lovely as the night despite the eternal dreams that hounded her rest. And waking, she found the world she left the moment her eyes closed. Everything smelled of him, as did she. A part of her feared so deeply the power Dane now had, to break her heart and destroy her soul. For long days, she worried she had become a project for him to reclaim his place in the Sun. Yet now, she knew better. He felt as she!
As he left with the others, her eyes lingering on Dane's, Aysel knew she would do all she could to be strong, to be worthy of his love. Turning from the closed door, she laid her eyes upon Vile Whisper. Fire dark and flickering laid in them. Despite the terrors others knew of this creature, which were completely -true-, there laid in him a true heart. Someone hurt her brother. Someone was threatening the extended family of Dane, Theon, and Archimedes.
They would pay.
As her fist clenched, power welled into it. Shadows and blood filled her right palm, under her nails, exploding into sheathes of metal, binding up her arm, gathering in shell forms of plate, much like a beetle. Dark shadows slowly swam in the white of her right eye like a hand that reached forward with the lightest of sinister touches.
The voice that filled her lips carried a slithering of demonic taint. Abyssal words and nerverborn whispers.
"Brother, we have much to discuss. No more games. Time to look in the past. Remember...and tell me what happened as you remember it." Essence and blood curled in her heart, shivered through her veins. Her hand opened, curled talons held in soulsteel. Vile gave her a strange look through his mask, one he had given before. Reaching forward, he laid his gloved hand in hers.
And he spoke. And she saw.
*after dinner at the Thalo house*
Maron settled back in a pile of pillows that threatened to consume her. Every silk, tartan, tapestry, and down all turned into the most pleasurable surfaces to hug the body next to bare flesh. With a deep sigh, she sunk into them barely keeping her grip on a bottle of wine and a glass.
Jin sat on the bare floor in front of her, legs folded in lotus position, eyes closed. His hands held before him in simple meditation. She knew he listened still.
"What did you tell him?" He asked quietly in the stillness.
Maron's brow furrowed as she nursed her drink. "If I told him he was right, what would he have done?"
"Stopped questing."
"And if I simply said he was wrong?"
"That he had been lied to, and would have lost faith in those around him."
And in unison they said, "And lose faith in himself." Jin openned his eyes with the slightest of nods. "You believe he is moving path to path in err?"
Gulping down more of the berried drink, she shook her head. "No, he has excellent ideas. But he doesn't believe in them. When we spoke with him last, his ideas were completely different, and he had that same damn look. He is looking for someone to tell him he is right."
Jin's fingers laced together as he peered through them. "I felt the same when I exalted. And the answers the sun gave confused me utterly."
"I remember." She smiled as did he. If Aramis had not won her heart, they both know they would have warmed to love each other. But their friendship remained as strong, if not stronger than the marriage. "And you taught me so very much. He needs guidance, but I am afraid if given, he just will accept that as what should be done. I am very sure MANY have told him much the same."
"Aramis finds promise in him, but I can see the sadness...or disappointment..."
"I am not sure to be wholly honest. Aramis has kept his counsel about Dane. But then again, we can see why." The two nodded, eyes darkening. "The Abyssals are returning. But so friendly from this Mask of Winters? It makes me want to seek the south with a deeper incursion. Blast it all! The Trikahn won't move. And the Delzahn only heed his word! We need to get to Gem."
"And to get there, we need the guild. Patience Maron. Drink more. Enjoy your meals. Buy clothing. Taste your husband. We need you clear headed in the months to come." He rose unfolding from his position so elegantly and sure.
As he wandered to the door, she called after. "Thank you, my friend. And speak to the zenith with Dane. She might be able to help,"
He kept his face averted, smiling. "Already in motion."
*outside nexus*
Slinking through the throngs of wagons, carriages, horses, cattle, and more people than he had seen in ages, Opal sought the little signs that could lead to the Dragon Blooded general...monk....warrior. He hid himself away, for fear of the other families finding him. And in that, Opal understood all too well. Turning his eyes about, he lolled his tongue, panting in the extreme heat. A mut. Through and through, the simply mut dog form he used kept him safe from the press of humanity.
Finally, the scent caught his keen nose. Loping through the buildings, he sought the ancient man. A quiet bistro, chocolate and coffee in the air, gave Arada the perfect place to hide. But for Opal, shifting here would be difficult. Seeking a side street, he shifted again behind some crates. He became himself, tell and tattoos hidden. And with a small pin added to the lapel of his fancy clothes, they took on the look of plain traveler clothes.
He could do nothing about his hair and voice, but hopefully no one would peer too much at him. Slipping into a chair with Arada, he gave a short nod. "They send word."
Arada did not raise his eyes, sipping at his bitter coffee. He gave a single grunt.
"Would you be able to meet? Or wish to meet somewhere specific?"
Arada gave a curt nod, tossed a bit of jade on the counter, and ushered Opal outside. They rounded corners, took alleys, and finally made a stop around some crates and refuse from a group of tenements.
"Anathema, You have done well to aid me. But I need to make sure you have not been compromised." His hands blurred forward, fingertips pressing into the soft tissue and muscles along Opal's neck, arms, his side. Before he could act or shift, he was paralyzed. Essence coursed through Arada, charms filling his eyes, his hands, burning through the exalt until he had the ability to peel away and through the various thoughts that laid in Opal. But this was a battle he could fight.
They began a test of wills then, every secret of Opal twisted and turned by phrase and meaning, as Arada sought to uncover them. They both possessed extreme patience for the torturous endeavor, yet Opal had the edge with a few secrets of his own. Finally, Arada ended the assault, sweat beading upon his bald head, dripping down his nose and chin. He had to simply....have faith.
"Curse you and your kind. I should have expected deviltry." He began the work of releasing Opal from his hold.
Through numb lips, the lunar sputtered. "You see demons where there are none. Should I see the same in you? We are not so different, my lord, you and I. You must trust me, as I trust you. But do not expect me to let you rape me here, in this gutter, simply to appease your concerns."
"As you say. Now, they wish to meet?"
Opal rubbed and chaffed his arms and legs, pumping life into them. "Only one does. Dane."
"The foul blooded. Of course, your kind have no interest." His brows ruffled, much like an old bushy dog's.
The lunar's chin turned. "I have great interest. Unlike many of my compatriots, I have a keen interest in politics and the fate of the isle. I am not so short sighted to not see the terrible effect the loss or corruption of one element in this world would lead to the next. Why else would I have continued with you on this journey, instead of just tossing aside your mon and leaving you to be found by your houses."
Slipping his hand into a worn looking pocket, he pulled free something wrapped in plain cloth. Unfolding it, he revealed a chipped, battered mon of his own. Of house Nellens. "Not all of us were beget from a life of drudgery or barbarism."
The air was pregnant with tension and a taste of fear and hate. Combatants and friends gathered in a moment of life, death, and potential alliance.
The man that was Sinclair vied with memories and dreams that flashed in his mind of his once life as a king. His every thought and emotion layered as an onion. As he stalked around the room, his soul emerged past every barrier. The fiddler's hands knew the perfect strings to pluck for sound and motion...suddenly they felt compulsions in meeting blade with bone. Hushed sound rose around him, the cries of ancient battles, the horror of murders laid by his hand, the rise of his people to exist...simply exist in the wars thrust upon them. Histories the celestials could never conceive returned to him, yet so very incomplete. But what the past met with was a humanized heart, a depth of experience in a land once held by the Fae.
All this played in his mind and eyes as his silken stride moved in counter to Rain Deathflyer. And in Rain rose a warrior born, bound to protect the woman he loved. They had a difficult week, if not year, between them. But in the past days and nights, they had broken through boundaries long held between them. As he raised the soulsteel sword, light glinted on a ring of moonsilver, newly made, matched to one on Silver's hand. He tried to maneuver the fae born away from his love, knowing this charm would render her completely defenseless. With a single motion, he pointed to Dane. "I care not he is your friend. Keep your sword at the ready. Shapings are dangerous creations."
"I am not merely made, celestial. I have no knowledge of you, or your war with my own. But I do not seek a war." The fierce burn of the hawkman's eyes left no doubt in Sinclair. He would kill him. And death only now did Sinclair realize would be devastating. What could he say? What did he know? "I do not bring the Black Sun with me, or before me." A gamble.
Essence poured through sigils and gems embedded in the sword. What the fae born said was truth. Rain nodded, but he did not relax in stance. "I will make sure of it, murderer."
*Hollow*
"We salvage what we can, what truly matters to us, even at the gates of despair." Hands pale and loose of flesh laid upon hands of soot black. What words the shadowed one spoke rang so true in Koralais. The body of the figure laid deeply in the waters of lethe. Knowing where the waters ended and the water began was a mystery even to the small god's eyes.
"Naked in the blaze of day. A feeling not felt in an age of turning." The dark one raised his head, laying eyes black upon black. "The knowledge of approaching death can come in many shapes, descending as a blessing or rearing up as an apparition of terror. It may sever like the sweep of a blade, or call as a perfect lover calls. In this as all things, the end is honest."
The hand that pressed back his hair raised to open one mottled eye. The vision held the dark one, reflecting his face as nothing but shadow, for can the night truly have a face? "You have drunk too long of this city and its memory. But the hollow of Lethe's tears cannot retain the flood within you. Patience."
The dark one laid its head upon those folded hands. Words spoken to those waters held all the mysteries of who it was. "There was light, now there is not. No moon...no stars...nothing but the dawning of fear in eyes behind the dying embers of the final day..."
Outside day ruled, but how long would that last?
*Nexus*
Dace paced with an echoing of boot heels in the gentry of mercenary buildings. Sweat beaded upon his forehead under the blaze of the sun, yet the burn of it did not drive him inside. Closing his eyes, he tipped back his bald head, coming to a stop. Anger filled him as the inferno of heat from the sun above.
"Swan. Damn you, Swan." This had become a mantra. The Eclipse led a steadfast charge in directing the circle. His words spoke with emotion, and charms that demanded equal consideration. The Dawn commended the courier in standing his ground, yet now? With the horrors of a Deathlord? In equal ways he had to hate Arianna for putting them all in this situation.
In moments like this, the general could just lay his hand on his ancient sword, and pray. In his hands laid the crumbled letter left from another solar in the city for Swan, who passed it to him. Prayers would not help him. And if someone had some hint of what he would face, Dace would not wait.
In the cool shadows, his lieutenant waited, giving annoyed glances to the sun above. How he could stand there, in full plate, sweating to death...he had to be blessed...or nuts. She grumbled. "Both."
"Risa." Dace's bark almost made her jump as she stood to sudden attention.
"Captain."
He held his hand out to her, the crumpled letter in it. "Swan claimed this letter from the house of the Gulls. Take two of the trusted, find this solar Dane. We need to have a talk."
Her brow furrowed up as she hesitated a moment. A moment was all she got until those piercing eyes of his fell on her. Quickly stepping forward into the searing heat, she snatched the letter and sought the shadows. Despite it all, she caught the humor in his eyes.
With a sharp nod, she left pointing out two of the Bronze mercenaries. "Let's go. We have a solar to find, gentlemen." Her dark hair held hints of black, gold, and deep greens. Her skin tanned to a dark, deep brown. Those eyes of hers directed the men without needing to toss her hands about, the darkest green of old leaves. Yet for her wood aspect, she grumbled and ground her teeth the whole way knowing how blasted hot it would be!
*Nexus*
Shepherd left the tent with a heavy frightened sigh. His breath was a shaking thing leaving his body. Somehow, by the blessing above, the yozis below, he was alive. Whole. Not bleeding to death or cursed.
How he was remained a mystery to himself.
Shepherd needed a drink. Stiff and strong. Terribly, he wanted to rush to Siaka and Black Ice, wave his hands and give them a hug. He needed their camaraderie right now. Instead, he walked beside Onyx, returned to the others, and started making plans.
He would have to move quickly. Seriously. Time was more than against them.
What would he do?! He felt cold despite the Sun's burning heat.
Something happened. To say that could not be more of an understatement. Every day and night, something was happening.
Marcus sat across from Lynn, playing half-heartedly upon the game board. And the girl seemed to wrestle with her own thoughts. She moved a piece. He responded. Glancing to the balcony, he could only wish he did not feel so suddenly like a prisoner.
What...would he do.... What could he do...
The door opened with Dane and Opal arriving. Marcus gave a smile watching them return safely. Lynn leaped up and ran over, full of questions and concerns. The two were growing close again, if slowly.
Looking upon the board, yet another moment of oddness filled him. Every single piece set on a white square. Not a single one in darkness. Never had something like that happened in a game. But drinks and food were needed, the world moved on. And he had to rush to keep up.
And so eyes opened. Beyond the veil of sleep and dream, he rose with a feeling akin upon remembrance. His remained a life in shade, hidden and untouched. How his heart beat, slowing in a steady cadence. Yet what stirred him so early?
A shadow laid in the doorway, a figure he recalled from a distant memory of fear. There he stood upon the battlefield. The land soaked in life's blood. Solumn the lines faced one another. Percivale held his place near at hand with Solars. Brigid gave whispered advice, yet the Eclipse believed this the true path. They had to reach a settlement with the Fae king, if ever he would deign to meet them. For many nights and days, they rallied with a singular call. Meet, talk, compromise.
Yet the king refused. In waiting was victory. Yet did the soft voice of a storyteller did tell this king that such a victory would remain hollow to his people. So did Sireeliar finally arrive, grand in the promised horrors of eternal suffering. Only too truly did they accept his threats. In time, even the Solars feared heaven would not win that war.
Percivale recalled with painful clarity the visage of that noble. A being he could never forget.
Rising from his slumber, so suddenly, in the very halls of his dead city of Sijan, the Sidereal looked upon that face again. The king come to life.
"I require your aid, ancient of destiny. My time comes. Yours returns. And the fate of this world shall spin freely yet again."
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