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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/FirstMovement|First Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT ADanceOfAngels |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Angel's Farewell ==
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> <i>Scratch, scratch, scratch</i> goes the brush across Ice's coat. The mighty horse neighs contentedly under the attention as its mistress works busily with its side, wide sweeps of her arm rubbing out dust and dirt from the black hide, polishing it into an onyx sheen. Bred from a prime stock of the Lover's stables, Ice is a huge beast, Abyssal fierceness and nobility from the tip of its muzzle to the furthest reaches of its rump. Dangerous, intimidating, courageous in battle...
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| − | <i>...and a bottomless well for love and caregiving</i>, Vorpal finishes as she works. She has to grit her teeth with every sweep of the brush. Every powerful motion she makes sends a new throb of pain across her torso, but she wills herself to ignore it. Ice is her companion - the war horse deserves only her best care.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> <i>I think it's about time I had a word with her</i>. Selina thinks to herself, striding along the corridors of the airship. Something before she left.
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| − | <i>Hopefully not another argument.</i>
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| − | She enters the room where Vorpal's horse is kept, after having checked the other deathknight's room and not found her there. Her horse, she thinks, would be one thing Vorpal would pay attention toward. And sure enough, there she is.
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| − | "Hey." Selina says idly, closing the door behind her and advancing a few paces before stopping, looking at the two of them.
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> It takes a few more sweeps of the brush for Vorpal to acknowledge the other deathknight's presence.
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| − | "Yes, Dark Angel?" she asks, taking a step to the side and setting to work on a new area in Ice's long side. "Something you need?"
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| − | <b>Ice:</b> Ice snorts, its nostrils flaring at the scent of another deathknight near by. The animal lowers its white-maned head for a moment as if to take a closer look at the newcomer, its eyes glaring suspiciously.
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| − | Then it straightens its neck once again, waves of musculature rippling in its flanks as the brush moves on to an itchy spot. Although the mighty war horse does not say anything (horses rarely do), something about the beast's posture gives it a definite air of smugness and comfortable superiority - not an impression entirely unlike to that of a cat reclining in the lap of a rich and fawning matriarch.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Need?" Her voice is curious-toned as she looks at the horse, her own eyes saying 'don't interrupt your betters' before her gaze flicks back to Vorpal and relaxes. "Perhaps just some things to dicuss. Away from men who take offense and butt into things they aren't invited to."
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| − | Of course, the first meant this Moon she'd run into. He'd seemed so...impulsive? She supposed she'd find out more. And maybe find out why she felt an odd pull to him. The second was that Deceiver, that Cael. That Eclipse.
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| − | <i>Who interferes in arguments not his business.</i>
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| − | "Mostly, about what's going to happen in the next few days."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Go ahead", comes Vorpal's somewhat cool reply. Letting out a short sigh, she takes a step backwards to regard the results of her work with a critical eye. "I don't know whether this Seventh Moon can actually speak to the animals, but I don't think that he would get much out of Ice anyway. Never been much for gossip, this horse."
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| − | <b>Ice:</b> Ice snorts. Whether this is a denial or confirmation for Vorpal's words, or simply an expression of irritation at the end of the brushing session, is anybody's guess.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "I assume you know that our dashing savior is an Eclipse, yes?" She keeps her gaze level, one eyebrow raising as she looks about the compartment, wondering about the alloy of the ship. "The Immaculates don't call them the Deceivers for nothing."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "I saw his caste mark", Vorpal nods absently, still scrutinizing the horse's flank. "If his tongue is as quick as I think it is, he might come in handy."
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| − | "His ship definitely will", she adds after a moment of frowning, as an afterthought.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Snorting, Selina nods, gaze returning to Vorpal. "His tongue can work both ways. I'm sure he has some agenda of his own, and the way he stepped in to stop you and Moon from beating each other senseless makes me wonder."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Me <i>and</i> Moon from beating each other senseless?" Vorpal echoes with an amused chuckle, slowly turning to face her Dark counterpart with an arched eyebrow.
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| − | She lets a moment pass before dropping her act. "Well, I suppose you have a point", she shrugs. "Let's assume this Cael has an agenda. Most people do."
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| − | She turns and walks across the stable hangar to deposit the brush into a side-pocket of her saddlebags. "What shall we do about it?"
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Of course. Even I do." The assassin replies levelly, then her voice drops. "We watch him, because he can be useful. And...because he's a Deceiver and I know some things about them...we don't swear a single oath for him or with him. They have tricksy powers to do with binding oaths, Deceivers do. The texts I read tended to mention some kind of curse upon those who broke them."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "I'll keep that in mind", the Ghost-Blooded replies after a moment of consideration. "The Lover has a Moonshadow Caste in her service. I've heard mentions that he can do something similar to that."
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| − | "Actually", she then begins and picks up a small feeding bag, which he then proceeds to fill with grain. "I was thinking of being honest with this Cael. He probably knows we know he is going to try to steer us to help him with his own goals."
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| − | Turning back to Selina for a moment, she tilts her head slightly. "And I don't really see any reason why we shouldn't play along, as long as his goals are in the same direction with ours. I'll trade. Let the Deceiver make us help him. I'll make him help us."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "If you think you can handle him, I suppose so." Selina sighs, one gloved hand going back to rub her wounded and exposed back around her wing roots. Damnable sword always gave her that mark when she used it. Never anywhere else. It's why she used it so sparingly.
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| − | "You need to heal quickly." Selina continues, looking at the bandages. "I may need you down south, once I've lured some of their forces out. If you can't cut off the head, cut off the arms and legs instead -- but I can't do that with just that Lunar."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "That will be the Deceiver's first service to us", Vorpal says with a voice carefully modulated to be as neutral as she can manage. Her own wounds were not a subject she liked to dwell on, at least not with someone like the Dark Angel. With the feeding back filled with a decent dose of grain, she moves to stand before Ice. The war horse stares down at her expectantly.
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| − | Vorpal, however, does not immediately proceed to feed her mount. "Speaking of the Lunar", she says instead, lifting a hand to caress Ice's velvet muzzle. "I think we should be more worried about him than the skypirate. The Deceiver, at least, is willing to bend. This Moon character is something completely different."
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| − | She pauses, frowns, and casts a quick glance at Selina from the corner of her eye. "I know I can be pretty tough about some things when I feel like it", she says, "but that Lunar is even worse."
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| − | "He is a beast, as fits his type. He won't make a deal. He won't back down unless you send him flying with a whipped arse." She reaches up, holding the feeding bag aloft, stretching herself to slip the leather straps around Ice's head. The poisoned wound immediately becomes a red-hot brand by her side, searing her white flesh.
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| − | Keeping her voice level becomes first an effort, then a struggle. She blinks her eyes, trying to keep the tears away. "No compromises, no deals, <i>nothing</i>."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Hmmmmm." Selina hums, thinking on that. It was true that he'd jumped at the Pale Angel without any real provocation. That spoke of a quick temper...or inexperience. Perhaps both. Who could say?
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| − | "He's a man through and through, that one." Selina chuckles at the description, putting her own beast in the back of her mind. The Dragon obeyed her. Because she let it eat human-flesh. "He came to us for a reason. And now, like Cael, he needs us for something. I think he'll play nice, besides that it's me he'll be with, and I did not anger him."
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| − | Pausing for a moment, she looks at Vorpal and shrugs, wincing from the pain at her back. Really, such a bother even for a shallow wound! Right near her sensitive wing roots! "Many men will be quite happy to work with you if you give them something. Not a compromise, not a deal. You just give them <i>something</i>, and they think better of you. Not all men work that way of course." The last sentence is more of an addition.
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> <i>Aaaarrrgh...</i>
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| − | Vorpal is gritting her teeth by the time she finally manages to get the bag properly in place. A familiar, muffled crunching immediately begins to fill the air as Ice assaults his meal. The Ghost-Blooded lowers herself into a more relaxed posture carefully, but she knows she had already gone too far. The wound is throbbing, its sting hot and sharp in contrast to its earlier, duller ache.
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| − | <i>Damn...</i>
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| − | "Do what you like", she replies to the Dark Angel, and even as she speaks she realizes that she is using the first convenient target she has to vent a tiny bit of the anger and frustration the wound is causing. "Just try to hold yourself back long enough to get your task done before you go to shake the bushes with him."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> <i>And maybe I want to give him that? Hmm...</i>
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| − | Her gaze cools a bit as she notices the ghost-blooded moving herself into a position that seems to cause more pain, and hears her words. "There'll be plenty of time for both, I'm sure. Ten years a Chosen doesn't render one dumb."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "I'm sure", Vorpal nods in return. Suddenly deciding to change the subject, she then asks: "What about Vestal? Do you have a plan for what to do if you run into her down there?"
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "That depends. You remember what she said back during our parlay." Selina lets a hint of a smirk enter her features. A not altogether pleasant one. "Did you ever hear why I left the Lover? Not just because I hated the Underworld. It's because she offered me Windia. Windia is my jewel to claim, not anyone's to give. I will not take a crown from the gutter."
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| − | She almost leans back against the wall, but stops herself at the last moment, remembering the wound. "I'm not sure what she'll try to do to me. But I'm going to deal with her appropriately if I meet her. Remember though, she has the hots for you as much as me."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "I was not the one she fought and fled, though", Vorpal says with a somewhat mild tone. Carefully, almost gingerly she raises her arms and folds them over her chest. The subject of Windia is not a bait she chooses to rise to. "What other things she can do, besides necromancy and the Charms to evade blows?"
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "She escaped my grasp when I had her helpless...I'm not sure how." Selina says grudgingly, looking at the ceiling for a moment before bringing her gaze back down. "I think perhaps it could be a stone she wore. Or an artifact of some sort. It's certainly no deathknight simple magic I've ever seen or heard of."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Hmm", responds Vorpal. Closing her eyes for a moment, she takes the risk of raising one hand to wipe back a strand of her white hair. "We need to learn more about the Bishop's Chosen. Where they are, what they can do. It is risky to go and do battle with them blindly."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "One's down, at least." The Windian demures, stretching her wings a bit, ignoring the pain as she idly adjusts her leotard just a bit in the rear. "No thanks to me."
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| − | "You know, I should like to know one thing." Her gaze goes directly at Vorpal. "Does the Lover speak ill of me at Red Ice? For leaving. Does she talk about getting me back?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal takes her time to consider an answer to that.
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| − | She shifts her weight to one leg, carefully, and rubs the tip of her chin with her fingers. Oh yes, the Lover <i>did</i> talk about the Dark Angel. Not very often, but she did... in a manner Vorpal, for one, did not want to think about very long. And so she replies: "Sometimes."
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| − | She pauses, choosing her words, before finally speaking with low, calm tones: "She speaks of you like of a bottle of wine. Or of a apple growing in a tree."
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| − | "It takes time to ripen both."
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| − | <i>And in the meanwhile, she enjoys watching how you squat on your shelf or cling to your swaying branch.</i>
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "I see." She does, and she doesn't like it. But it was suspected all along.
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| − | <i>The bitch is letting me run till I'm ready.</i>
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| − | "And when I ripen? But I guess she wouldn't tell you that. Obvious enough anyway I suppose." Fixing her turquoise eyes on Vorpal, she raises both eyebrows. "Our little prince won't last an hour with her."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> <i>It is obvious enough, yes. She will cork you and drink you dry. She will pluck you from the tree and make herself a pie.</i>
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| − | Vorpal is surprised to have mixed feeling about that. Both amusement and bitterness, pity and... an odd tinge of jealousy, too.
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| − | "Probably not", the Ghost-Blooded agrees. "But then again, there is always a chance. The Lover has let her Solars to ripen in peace before. Have you ever heard of Rune of Whitewall?"
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Not that I can remember." Selina admits. She'd spend her share of time in the north, more than she should have, but this one was not one she was familiar with.
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| − | <i>Probably because no one ever tried to get me to kill him or her.</i>
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| − | "I was a Solar once. But then I came to her. Fool that I was."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Well, Rune was luckier... or not, depending on which way you see it. I'm not entirely sure which Caste he is, but he is definitely a Solar. An emissary from Whitewall, he has visited the Lover's fortress on business and rode away with his light still intact." Vorpal shrugs. "The Lover did leave a stain on him, of course. She never tainted him, but she did Exalt his sister..."
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| − | She makes a meaningful pause, allowing her words to sink in before giving the Dark Angel a meaningful glance. "Doesn't it sound awfully familiar to you?"
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Now, Selina is more suspicious. "...and did the Lover ever use his sister as some sort of leverage? Did he keep doing little things for her, to keep his sister from meeting a bad end?"
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| − | <i>In fact.</i>
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| − | "Which deathknight would his sister be?" The Windian asks, curious now. Such a thing to wonder...but...
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "She would be Mournful Aria. I do not think you have met her - you left before the Lover took her in. She is a believing type of an Abyssal." Vorpal shakes her head. "I might be wrong, but I don't think the Lover has asked for Rune to do any favors for her. She just dangles Aria before his nose like a delicious bait, to keep him returning to the Fortress over and over again."
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| − | <i>Perhaps that will happen with Alex, too.</i>
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| − | <i>Perhaps not.</i>
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Ah." Selina replies flatly, sighing and then grimacing as she remembers other <i>believing</i> kinds of Abyssals she's met in the past. And how angry one of their deathlords was because she met one of them. "Like Black Spiral Dancer."
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| − | "You know," The assassin ventures, looking curiously at Vorpal now. Her tone gets no better, almost as if she's digging. "I never did quite find out the circumstances of your corruption. I hear it was revenge, but...revenge is <b>never</b> what drives it all. Not even with me."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> At one time, Vorpal might have bristled at such a question. She might have fixed the Dark Angel with a gaze cool enough to freeze flickering tongues of flame into a beautiful sculpture of ice, silently telling her to mind her own business. She might have rebuked Aine, thrust her into an arm length's away and ordered her to stay there or face the consequences.
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| − | Even now, the Pale Angel toys with the idea of doing just that, idly choosing the correct words to form a cutting reply. This, however, is before the tiny, calm voice in her mind speaks up, asking the question she had wondered about a few times before.
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| − | <i>Why bother?</i>
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| − | Why indeed?
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| − | "Revenge?" She asks, then snorts with a mild humor. "No, I do not think it was really about revenge. Not entirely, at least."
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| − | Turning to inspect how her mount is doing with the grain, she continues: "You said Windia is yours. Your little jewel to take when you feel like it, not someone's to give to you. You could say my life is something similar, only the direct opposite."
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| − | "My life is <i>mine</i>. I will give it up when I feel like it, but until that, I will cling to it with all my might."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "I see." Selina says after a short while of silence, fingering her chin idly with one gloved hand. "I can sympathize with that...although I didn't really want my life, per se, after what happened with my family. Not for awhile anyway."
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| − | <i>It took so long to rediscover any joy in living, and think about something besides revenge.</i>
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| − | In the end, she'd remembered it. And then she'd gone and tainted her name for the dead gods. For a patron who would support her, like the Unconquered Sun never did. Like his other Chosen never did. Not that she got that when she became a deathknight either. The Lover and her brood could back her...if she danced for her.
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| − | <i>A fool by any other name...</i>
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| − | "But don't you have a home to go back to as well? A country?" Compressing her lips for a moment, Selina hesitates. "If you don't want to mention <i>that</i>, I understand."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal snickers at the thought. "Home?" She laughs, a curious mixture of bitterness and humor. "Do you mean <i>home</i> as in a place where you were born and raised?"
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Selina answers quickly this time, not bothering to think for any length.
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| − | After all, she didn't snarl about it, did she? "Yes."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "I died the moment I was born." She states it simply, matter-of-factly. "And you cannot really say I was raised there, either. Rather, I was <i>sculpted</i>, made and moulded into what I am now." She chuckles, remembering the days long gone. "Of course, they never knew what they were bargaining for, but that has nothing to do with this."
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| − | "So, when you think about that way... I don't think I really have a home. Just an pedestal somewhere out there with a plaque attached that states, <i>Pale Angel - The Meanest Bitch in the North</i>."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Everyone should have a home." Selina states quickly, then hesitates. Some people didn't. But that didn't change anything, really. Maybe the dead gods and the demon princes were beyond those kinds of things. But not the Exalted. "Though I guess some people don't want them, or can't have them."
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| − | <i>And that leads to another thing.</i>
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| − | "Tell me...do you ever remember your past lives? Sometimes I do." A straight question, with an assurance that she was not merely trying to drag information out one-way.
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> <i>You're babbling. This isn't like you, Dark Angel.</i>
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| − | Vorpal hesitates for a moment at that thought, her eyes searching Selina's face, seeking for reasons for this odd behaviour. An eerie suspicion is rising in her mind, and tried as she might, she cannot push it away.
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| − | <i>Don't tell me you, too...</i>
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| − | "Remember my past lives..."
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| − | <i><b>Because I realised who you are. Twice damned, as Abyssal and Solar. Twice damned, walking together with those you destroyed, and those who destroyed you.</b></i>
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| − | That was what the Hierophant had said, when she had asked about...
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| − | <i><b>Crimson Blood on Virgin Snow.... did not change so much, now.</b></i>
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| − | His words had... frightened her then. There had been visions before, fleeting glimpses of faces she thought she should recognize, of places so wondrous her mind could barely fathom it all... and behind it everything, looming always in the background, was the knowledge about the terrible, terrible power. Power to slay and destroy, power held back only by a wavering thread of spidersilk, fine and thin as a hair...
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| − | "No", she says after a moment. "Not much, at least. Who were you in your past life, then?"
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "A monster." The words are quite simple, though tinged with a slight madness, for a moment. And a fear, accompanied by lust and hate. "In the First Age, anyway. My power has had...other incarnations since. It was not somehow imprisoned like most. But the memories of the woman I was in the First Age stand out the most."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> <i>A monster, eh...?</i>
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| − | "Fits in with what the Immaculates have to say about the Anathema, I suppose." Vorpal shrugs.
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| − | There <i>had</i> been many.... memories, if you could call them that, about blood being spilled...
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| − | <i>Maybe I was one, too.</i>
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| − | <b>Ice:</b> Ice is finished with the grain, and stomps its hoof against the floor imperatively, to gain its mistress' attention.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Shrugging, Selina purses her lips and thinks, tapping her chin with one finger as she looks at the other deathknight.
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| − | <i>And what kind of monster were you?</i>
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| − | <i>Because we <b>all</b> were monsters sooner or later, back then!</i>
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| − | "It does. All the things the Immaculates say are true, as far as I can tell." Her voice cuts a bit more as she goes on, recalling the memories, the things she'd done back then. "We were monsters. The greatest monsters who had ever lived. It's why I slaughter our kind -- especially the chosen of the sun. It's the biggest reason I would help the dead gods throw the world into the Void. We do not deserve to exist."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal lifts an eyebrow at Selina's words - there is an ounce of sarcasm in that gesture, and two ounces of amusement... and perhaps just a tiny bit of respect, too.
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| − | She cannot, however, keep herself from referring to a topic they had discussed only moments before. "Sounds like the words of a <i>believing</i> type of an Abyssal."
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| − | <b>Ice:</b> Ice stomps its hoof to the floor for a second time. The feeding bag muffling its snort, the mighty beast shakes its head with irritation.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "You don't have to believe in someone else's ideal if it partially coincides with your's." Selina replies simply, moving away from the wall, from the temptation to lean against it and touch the wound on her back with the cold metal. "I began thinking that before I became a deathknight. The flashes of memory came long before then. The more I learn about the First Age, the more I suspect it to be true."
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| − | <i>Only the Dragonblooded are no longer able to do anything about it.</i>
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| − | She fixes her turquoise eyes on Vorpal. "Do the visions you've had frighten you like they do me, Pale Angel? Do you remember any of the horrible things we did? Even a few is enough for me."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> <i>That, my dear, is <b>none</b> of your concern.</i>
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| − | The outburst is wholly internal, however, with no visible sign on Vorpal's face, body or voice. "If the crimes of your past life frighten you so", she responds and suddenly turns her attention to the impatient Ice and the feeding back. "Why don't you mend your ways in this one?"
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Selina stops, blinking. She never really tried on a large scale, but then, after the way her childhood ended, she couldn't even begin at the place she'd cared about the most. Small things would never recompense what she'd done in that past life, no matter how many individuals she bettered.
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| − | "They won't let me." Half a lie, or half a truth? She didn't know. There was a difference. But then, there was also her own outlook to influence that. "This is a world of murder. The only thing that changes it is death. You have to kill the right people to change things, not help the others. Nothing will change till the bad ones are gone."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "And after you have slain all the bad ones and take to the throne yourself, how are you planning to persuade the masses that you are not just as bad as those before you?" Vorpal speaks while working to remove the feeding bag, her voice cool and matter-of-fact.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "I don't intend to rule the world." She replies quickly, not thinking to say anything else. "All I want is what I was born to have, not what being a Chosen could let me take."
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| − | | |
| − | Of course, there was what she had in Nexus...but she had to survive somehow. And thrive. Except once she killed all the offenders, exactly how would things work? Not an answer she had at the moment.
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| − | | |
| − | Selina sighs and lets her gaze get a little downcast. "I wouldn't be any better, really. Which is why I don't want to hold the reins like that."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "An empty throne is a vacuum, Aine", Vorpal sighs, turning back to face the other deathknight with the bag in her hands. Behind her, Ice whickers, as if to underline her words. "If you don't take it yourself, someone else will. Be it Solars, Deathlords, the Dragon-Blooded or - Void forbid - <i>the Fair Folk</i>, no matter how many tyrants get themselves killed, there will always be someone to pick up where the last one left."
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| − | | |
| − | "My Pale Angel Brigade was betrayed and destroyed because there were people who lived in fear of a Ghost-Blooded war commander." She turns, walks slowly across the room to where her saddlebags wait, and sets to the task of backing the feeding bag away. "Now they live in fear of a vengeful Ghost-Blooded mercenary. Death didn't change a thing."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "I suppose so." Selina replies tiredly, shifting her weight to one foot and holding an arm under her chest absentmindedly. "But I'm not fit to rule the world. Not after what I've done."
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| − | | |
| − | Too bad the Scarlet Empress had disappeared like that. She may not have been perfect, but she didn't have the power to bugger the world like the Solars in the First Age did. The best ruler was a limited one.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>Or we're all better off dead.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> A moment of silence follows. Vorpal carefully straightens herself up from her saddlebags and, lifting her hands to her hips, regards Selina with a tilted head. Then she draws a wicked grin across her face.
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| − | | |
| − | She moves towards the other deathknight - gone is the careful step, replaced with the sauntering stride, the swaying hips, the dangerous glint in her eyes. "You're not having second thoughts about going to Whiteshield, are you?" she asks, her tone of voice very much high-and-mighty.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "What?" The Windian asks suddenly, gaze snapping back up as a confused expression blossoms on her face. "Why do you ask that? I'm not going to rule it when the Bishops' people are dead!"
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| − | | |
| − | She takes a step back, off-balance from the sudden change in her counterpart's demeanor. "I'll...do my duty, damnit. If they don't die, Windia is next!"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Good", she breathes, halting, her face mere inches away from the Dark Angel's. She is shorter than Selina, but does not let that to stop her. Her smile is white, her eyes red, her spirit that of a commander onto whose feet men and women alike have laid down their lives. "Kill me an Abyssal or two down there while at it, all right?"
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| − | | |
| − | She raises her hand, tapping the Dark Angel's shoulder "Death may not change a thing, but it sure is a bitchy thing to deal to those you do not like, don't you think? We'll show them who they are dealing with, and they will miss the safe shadows of Underworld before we're even half-way through."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "I hope to." Selina answers, resisting the urge to step back again. The Pale Angel would probably have her up against a wall anyway, if she kept moving back. "Once you've dealt with whoever they have up north, I'll need you all to help me."
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| − | | |
| − | It was logical enough. Concentrate your smaller force, and deal with detachments of the enemy's. Hopefully Alex and that Cael would realize that. "Keep them from haring off after someone's bait."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal nods, seeming to compose herself and taking a more matter-of-fact view on the topic. "I will keep them in a short leash. You do the same with the Lunar."
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| − | | |
| − | She moves past Selina, walking through the doorway and into the corridor. "Don't worry about Windia", she says as she goes. "The Celebrant's army will not reach it."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Very good. I will make sure we learn of their plans." Selina replies, waiting for her to leave the room, looking sideways at her horse. And then leaving herself. She had some healing to do, before she dealt the Bishop's forces a blow.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>And what a blow it will be.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | Walking down the corridor after Vorpal, she smiles to herself. The Dragon would be pleased. She'd see the terror on their faces, finally. Before she drank their blood and ate their flesh.
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| − | <i>Almost a holy duty.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | They would, afterall, be killing the bad ones. Who didn't, afterall, deserve to exist.
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| − | | |
| − | ----
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| − | | |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/FirstMovement|First Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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