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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SecondMovement|Second Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT ADanceOfAngels |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Iron Shades, Silver Blood ==
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Blinking, she leans against him, still panting lightly from the exertion. Well, more than an exertion, really...it had been too long, since the last time. Far, far too long.
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| − | "Mmm..." The Windian hums as she presses herself against her partner, black-feathered wings drooping in the aftermath, an intake of breath interrupting the sound. Not so urgent and passion-filled anymore, just cuddling, flaxen hair sweeping down her back past the wing-roots, a bit weak-kneed still. "Hmmmm."
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| − | And then Selina looks around, over her shoulder to the captive. <i>He should be waking up soon.</i> she thinks, looking back to the Lunar with an immensely satisfied mien, like a cat that had her fill of cream. The turquoise eyes no longer predatory, at least, not beyond a hint of sated hunger. She chuckles and embraces him further, nuzzling her head against Moon. "That, darling, was <i>divine.</i>"
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> This was the pay off.
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| − | His bare chest glistened with a fevered sweat that was beginning to cool into goose bumps, rising and falling slowly as he exerted some level of control over the faint shiver in his limbs. The shirt didn't remember discarding was tangled against his foot, but he didn't want to move to pick it up. There was darkness behind his closed eyes were color had exploded before. There was a warm pulse where fire had burned. She felt soft, like the warm skin of a sun-kissed apple. He almost wanted to take a bite.
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| − | "Sheeeu" he breathed out, stirring strands of her hair, then laughed breathlessly as he smiled in warm contentment and rubbed his cheek against her.
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| − | Yeah, bragging rights were good. Sex was better. But this? His broad hands encircled her waist, then roamed up to massage her back gently. <I>This</i> was best.
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| − | "Heh divine yeah" he murmured, his finger tips roaming gently around the roots of her wings, tracing that unfamiliar part for some new pocket of sensation to explore. " and they always said you Windian girls were a frosty bunch"
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Pursing her lips to a sensual, sataited pout as she chuckles again, deeper and more throaty this time, Selina cuddles closer against him as his fingers play at her wing roots, feeling as warmed from it all as she'd felt hot when it began. "Sometimes," She purrs contendedly, voice a light sultry burn as her form presses against his to escape the tracing at her exposed upper back. Futilely of course, but such things are always a playful gesture. "But someone who knows how can melt us."
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| − | Her eyes meet his, half-lidded gems of greenish-blue sea, serene pools that open into what some have called her 'black soul'. "Such a delight to only experience once, perhaps later, in a more comfortable setting, mmm?"
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> Murky pools of silver open to meet her gaze, sparkling in delight, then vanish again as he drops his head to kiss her shoulders softly. He could still smell the passion on her, the musk of arousal and that sweet tang of feminine skin. Not even the other foulness in the room could mask that. Nothing smelled as good as a warm woman.
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| − | Her suggestion makes him laugh softly. Finding it's resting place between her wings, he swirls his fingers down through her long hair. "Told ya we shoulda stuck around that gate a bit more" Slipping out of the silken strands his finger tip glides back up across the groove of her spine. "They had beds there."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Eyes widening for a moment, back arcing inward as she feels the light touch of his finger tickle her to a shiver or two, Selina's wings perk up suddenly for a moment, then droop back down, shivering slightly. "Mm, maybe. But also an audience." She looks over her shoulder again. "Well, I'm not the kind of woman to wake someone from sleep in the midst of that, but..."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> "Sheeyit" the Lunar looked back over his shoulder at the black clad figure. "Forgot all about that putz."
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| − | He didn't want to let go just yet, it had been too long since he had done this with anyone, but it might have been for the best. The shack was close and musty, but not warm and even for their closeness and the shiver that was starting to run through him had less to do with spent passions than the chill in the air. A bed with thick sheets to burry yourself under was always better for this.
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| − | Besides, they <i>were</i> standing in the middle of an entire city of people who would find it in their best interest if both he and the Windian were dead. That might make getting a move on a bit important too.
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| − | "A'ite. Guess we should wake him up and see what he knows"
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| − | <b>Iron Shades:</b> They come, a low, low noise. Just below hearing. Ragged shadows on the walls.
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| − | A quick move, a swift slash. And they move into existence, sharp knives going straight for Moon and Selina... cutting the air noiselessly, piercing flesh cooly.
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| − | The taste of the Underworld on Lunar and Abyssal skin, droplets of blood trickling on the ground...
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| − | They come out of the shadows, wearing ragged black robes that vanished seamlessly in them. Cowls pulled low over their faces, but even in the dim light one can see a sleek mask of quicksilver and chalcedony, the dark, black chalcedony like blood on the ocean... lines that waves on the sleek quicksilver, like shadows under a flickering candle... their bodies covered in a form-fitting armor that disappears under the shroud. They get more knives on their hands, and prepare themselves to jump for the kill.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> As the blades strike Selina's bare skin and attempt to pierce her leotard, the Windian's body crackles with a sudden burst of suppressed energy, stopping both of them from penetrating entirely. As the knives fall to the floor, smoking from their contact with raw oblivion, a whirlwind surrounds a Selina drawing her rapier from its sheath, growing more and more difficult to strike as she hurridly raises her defenses.
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| − | About her blazes her aura in a full display, iconic dragon roaring at the intruders as she narrows her eyes and waits for one of them to try his luck again. Or all of them. She doesn't care after having been interrupted so rudely.
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| − | <b>Iron Shades:</b> He looks at Selina, watching her cover herself with winds...
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| − | "Whirldwind."
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| − | A foul wind rushes through the room as the knife vanishes on sleeves, and a curved magical blade is unsheathed. Stale winds. Black Avian. They move like Black Avian.
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| − | The first almost disappears as he rushes straight to Selina, rushing in and out of the shadows, Reaper Daiklave ready to strike at the Dark Angel...
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Stepping to the side adroitly, the Windian's pace seems to <i>lengthen</i> as she sidesteps the attack in a blur of motion, mocking smile on her face.
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| − | The sword still manages to come for her, and Dreamshard flickers up in a parry, the mocking smile almost too knowing as she meets the dead thing's eyes.
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| − | <b>Iron Shades:</b> Another does the same, rushing towards Selina in the same way, ruffling her feathers as the ghost wind comes towards her...
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| − | The other pair, closer to Moon, keep their knives in their hands.... coming no closer, they ready their knives and throw them at Moon, filling the air with four sharp implements of death, screeching below human hearing, only in a way Moon can hear as they approach....
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> Pain. Searing hot. Hot as the blood that splashes from his wounds. Hot as the rages that boils up with it. The Lunar's eyes flare into a baneful silver light as the shadow-things manifest into the room. Anger clouds his vision, but not so much he can't see the matched pair move and fling their knives at him again. But he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of him standing there when they reached the other end.
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| − | Without hestitation, the Lunar threw himself to the side, bare shoulder scraping the wooden floor as he heaved away from the path of the knives.
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| − | His shoulder burns as it scraps the ground and he comes up on one knee, leg stretched to his side to dull the ache where a fresh cut blossoms under the passage of the knife. An itch roams in his blood, like a line of ants scratching through his veins. A thread of flame and weariness. Seventh Moon can smell the poison within himself even without the sensation to tell him.
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| − | <i>Fuckers...</i>
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| − | Moon leaned forward onto his palms, fingers digging into the soft wooden floor. The pain was making him dizzy, giddy. As light as a cloud before the silver moon. He grinned at them, anxious energy shuddering ever muscle and sinew, igniting every curving tattoo across his bare chest until he seemed almost to blur softly at the edges.
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| − | "A'ite you fuckers" Light pulsed bellow his hands, the dust stirring around his palms. "That's about <b>ENOUGH!</b>"
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| − | The last word thundered into the room as the Lunar rose from the floor. A trail of glistening blood and a blur of silver light described a great arc through the air that his body seemed to never make before he came crashing down upon the first of the shadow-things, heavy boots slamming into it's chest and clawing gripping it's neck, twisting violently.
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| − | <b>Iron Shades:</b> The Iron Shade is punched so hard in the face its mask cracks and breaks down, splinters filling the air, his body heavily knocked into a wall, knocking debris, mold and splinters as it sinks in it.
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| − | The building seems shakes.
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| − | The one not struck takes a step back, the Iron Raitons, its Soulsteel knives, appearing on his hand...
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| − | "Lunar."
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| − | "Anathema!"
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| − | A flickering of light, and three knives come toward the young Lunar.
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| − | The one on the wall falls out, almost, taking a moment to get all the debris from him... and, cadaveric teeth flashing under the broken mask, growls as he sends another knife towards Moon...
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| − | The slashes cut through cloak and armor and bone, suffusing the Nemessaries with the power of the wyld... sending both the dark-clad corpses to the ground with their ragged cloaks shred, showing their sleek magical armors.
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| − | Both get up without a sound, gripping their Reaper Daiklaves... and, as one, in one silent, placid movement, moving without movement, strike at the Dark Angel together... each two cuts in the air before her.. cutting through her whirwind in two pairs of flowing slashes.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> "You're supposed ta fucking <b>DIE!</b>" the Lunar snarls at the undead creature as it slams back into the wall.
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| − | A shout from behind, the hiss of blades spinning through the air again. Not even trying to dodge the blades the one in front of him hurls at him, Moon instead launches himself back at the Iron Shade, stepping into it's attack even as he reaches out to grab it's shoulders in an iron grip. Like a pair of dancers on a ball room floor, the two spin as the Lunar yanks the shadow-thing off it's feet and spins it around, it's black cloak swirling through the air as Seventh Moon trades places and thrusts himself against the wall as he holds the dead thing out at arms length and presents it's back to the oncoming knives.
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| − | He feels slow, sluggish. Even as every swirling tattoo gleams on his body like Luna herself was hiding bellow his skin, there is a chilling emptiness within him. This had to end. Now.
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| − | The shade doesn't even touch the floor in the moment between Moon letting loose it's shoulders and his gloved hand snapping up to it's cracked face.
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| − | Thick jade-alloy fingers close over it's masked face and squeeze until the tough material beings to grind and splinter. He focuses his blurry gaze to the other shadow across the room. A step that may have been a mile for all the dizzy room seemed to spin in and out of contrast, but he kept it alone in focus as he dashed towards it across the heaving floor, carrying the dark creature in his hand across the room and slamming the back of it's skull into the featureless face of the second.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> The two strike out at her again, and Selina moves to one side in a blurred, flowing movement, the speed of her magical defense carrying her around the nemissaries, sword-hand already moving back for a thrust against the closest assassin, the other shielded behind his cohort. Dreamshard crackles once more with death essence as her contemptuous grin widens, eyes beginning to show an almost insane glint and her iconic dragon pulls back as if making ready for a final lunge against hapless prey.
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| − | Then that fleeting moment where time seems to stop ends, and it all happens at once: slender daiklave streaking at her prey in a shadow-cloaked blur with contrails of excess essence bleeding off into the air, iconic dragon snarling viciously and lunging forward as Selina attempts to spear her weapon straight through the first nemissary and catch the second.
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| − | <b>Iron Shades:</b> Face crushed under Moon's fist, a body goes limp. The other staggers backward, takes one step back, then resumes a flurry of three knives towards Moon.
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| − | The Iron Shade Selina pierced takes his reaper and swings at her, twice, while the other one waits... and makes a single, straight, direct attack at the Dark Angel...
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon:</b> With a contemptuous sneer at the oncoming blades, Seventh Moon clenches his fists and sweeps his palm through the air. Motes of light swirl and dance around his palm, burning brightly and then fizzing into nothing.
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| − | " aw <i>shit.</i>"
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| − | Eyes widening faintly, as the knives stream towards him, slicing through the dim and flickering light of tattooed chest, already riddled with scrapes and slashes plunging into his flesh.
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| − | He didn't remember falling, but he was suddenly staring up the ceiling. Seventh Moon sighed a faint breath.
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| − | <i>Well least I got laid one more time before I died</i>
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| − | There was a smile on his lips as the blackness descended over him and the Lunar's world tumbled into nothing.
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| − | <b>Storytelling:</b> Bleeding, Seventh Moon falls... staining the mold red.
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| − | Lunar constituition staunches his bleeding in seconds, and Selina is left alone with the Iron Shades... four shadows flickering in and out of view, riding the shadows as they fight, shadows and winds in a beautiful dance... the Iron Shades’ strikes missing her entirely, Dreamshard striking home and piercing dead bodies with the force of the Wyld... and yet, if anyone even looked at it, they would be like shadows, dancing silently in the dark room, amidst Selina’s roaring anima. In the eye of the storm of shadows and darkness, where it is silent. Silent as a windy void....
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| − | ....and as the silent dance ends, the Dark Angel is the only one standing, five bodies on the ground, one surprised and tied up on the wall...
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Anima banner slowly dying down, Selina looks over to the man bound and gagged in the corner of the room, after sparing a glance for Moon to make sure he was still breathing. That man, the one he'd caught. He probably did that again -- before that she thought it was something some ghost put on him.
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| − | <i>Not a ghost...not quite.</i>
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| − | Rapier still unsheathed, the Windian walks over to the man, looming, senses stretching themselves to tell if he's still emitting that damnable call.
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| − | <i>Ghost...blood?</i>
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| − | Just like the Pale Angel then. Only she hadn't quite planned to kill the Pale Angel yet. She sheaths the rapier then, gazing down at him coldly. "You...did that again, didn't you?"
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| − | <b>Ghost-Blood:</b> Selina can feel it... oozing, in waves, out of him. Like a creeping feeling, making the hair on the back of her neck rise. She can also feel the ghosts... all around her. The bound, gagged ghost-blood widens his eyes, muffled cries within the gag...
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Do you feel them too?" Selina asks him, bending down to get a grip on him, then lifting the captive up, against the wall, careful not to damage him with her grip. "They're going to see me kill you. And then I'll kill them too. Yes, I can kill the dead forever." The hint of a chuckle enters her voice then, soft as a blade leaving silk. Selina grins, and her teeth are...fangs. Terrible fangs, and her next chuckle has the undercurrent of a rumbling growl in it.
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| − | <b>Ghost-Blood:</b> The ghost-blood's blood-shot eyes widen, and his muffled cries get more desperate, as he struggles, trying to break free, trying to get out... screaming on the gag as his eyes become maniacal... and he breaks the binds, his teeth ripping the gag, ready to run...
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Still thy struggling, sweet child." Selina purrs, slamming the man back against the wall, above the ground so his feet cannot gain purchase as she rips his garments from the neck to one shoulder with a bite and jerk of her head. The free hand grabs one of his, then the other. She spits the ripped clothing to the floor.
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| − | <b>Ghost-Blood:</b> As Selina slams him against the wall, he moves out of her grasp, almost tripping as he tries to get away, still dizzy from Moon's hit to his head, but running out, almost at the door....
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> <i>Ah ha.</i>
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| − | Turning like the predator she is, Selina leaps after him, bowling him to the floor and wrapping her legs around his, her arms pinning his own to his sides as she clutches him tightly to herself. "Don't you want to stay?" Her voice is a killing purr as she presses herself up against him, increasing her grip on the ghost blood to counter his newfound strength. "Don't think that I wouldn't find you if you escaped."
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| − | "<i>Mmmm...</i>" The Windian hums, rolling him around as she folds her wings down as much as she can. Once he's facing her, she gives him that toothy grin again, breathing hot strokes of air onto his face, then neck, as she inches her head closer.
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| − | And then she touches his throat with her teeth, biting in almost gently...and violently rips it open in one long swathe from the neck to the shoulder, gulping down the flesh hurridly before going to his now open throat, drinking his lifeblood away.
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| − | Time almost seems to stop as she does, each pulse filling her with <i>life</i>, with <b>ecstasy.</b> And each pulse, calling that thing inside her. Selina aches to assume it now, barely resists as she presses herself against the ghost-blooded with all the need she had with Moon. Except she wasn't draining Moon's life dry.
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| − | <b>Ghost-Blood:</b> He huffs... his breath coming hard, fear, fear.... struggling, trying to evade her wings... but the bird of prey has him in her grasp. He still struggles, maniacally against her, but to no avail. To no avail at all, as she sucks him... and soon, his eyes roll back, into inconscience... and soon, the last breath comes out of him, no more blood there. No possibility of life. and as Selina's lips fill with lifeblood, his head cocks down, dead....
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Untangling herself from the man, Selina gets to her feet, wings spreading a bit as she draws out her scythe. Some blood stains the upper regions of her leotard, but not too much. She managed to drink most of it. Two little eyes appear on Angeldust's blade, little red points of light moving about as they gaze at each ghost in turn. "He's hungry for you. Leave now." Selina purrs, licking the blood from her lips as she attempts to sense the ghosts again.
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| − | <b>Iron Shades:</b> And so they do. Selina feels nothing more there.... only the cold air of the Spirean night....
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Waiting for a few moments, she finally relaxes and puts the scythe away, the thing shrinking back to a sickle, and looks to Moon.
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| − | "This's gonna be loads of fun." Selina grumbles as she puts on her greatcoat -- shaking it out first -- and then kneels, gets a good grip, and hoists the Lunar up. Folding one wing in as far as she can get it, the Windian drapes him over one shoulder, thankful for her otherworldly strength.
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| − | Ironic, really, considering what they'd been doing just a short time ago. Then she trudges out to the back of the house -- no going into the street for her -- and peers out the door.
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| − | <b>Spire:</b> They are there, waiting. Selina sees the many shapes, her unnatural sight, clear as a bird, even at night, seeing the many mortal faces... probably not enough yet so they will not come in, coming at the heels of the Iron Shades... few in each side, Selina has been surrounded enough to know there are few of them... for now.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Closing the door quietly as possible, Selina moves back into the house, going up the stairs and through the building until she reaches a room that hopefully has a window facing paralell to both the street and the alleyway, then unslings Moon and opens the window, steeling her ability to balance with her magic.
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| − | This should be a sight safer than walking out.
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| − | Already cloaking herself in shadow and misdirection, the assassin picks the Lunar back up, holding him in a way that hopefully won't interfere with her flight...and steps up to the windowsil. She remains there for but an instant before leaping out into the night in a sudden blur of magically assisted movement, trying not to gain too much altitude -- no more than she needs.
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| − | Losing altitude as her wings spread to glide (and not fall) down, Selina pushes against the peak of the next house's roof, propelling herself forward once more, to repeat the process on the next house and the next.
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| − | <b>Spire:</b> Spire sounds... calm, at night. Too calm.
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| − | All the debauchery Selina would expect is gone, replaced by the silence of death. Behind her, her ears pick the sound of a door being broken down, and of the soldiers finally invading the house... to find nothing at all, of course. She was quite far away. An owl curiously tries to follow her steps, but soon loses her as soon as she jumps again, for no natural being could easily pinpoing her as she is now. A house after the next, and she is clear from any danger....
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Greatcoat flapping slightly in the wind -- less than the deadened gliding and occasional beats of her black wings, Selina comes to a rest on a house, standing on the roof and coming to a crouch just behind the crest of the structure.
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| − | <i>Now...where can I go to get him patched up...</i>
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| − | <i>Well, this seems like a good enough place to hide him.</i> Selina thought, halting at a junction in the pipes running along and above the sewer walkway. It stank...alot, but the nook she was looking at seemed to extend at least eight or so feet into the wall before the pipes closed it off altogether. About five feet above the walkway. Just right.
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| − | <i>Wide enough, as well.</i>
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| − | Caste mark glowing openly on her forehead as she sets the Lunar down, propped against the wall and far from the water, the Windian sighs. <I>Why isn't he healing really quickly? Aren't Wyld Gods supposed to do that? And change into beasts. Why didn't he do that?</i>
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| − | She supposed it wasn't because Moon was defective. There had to be a better reason. Every one of the Lunars she'd ever heard of could do that. Not that she would have wanted to carry him around if he'd passed out like <i>that</i>.
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| − | <i>Probably would've weighed twice as much...</i>
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| − | Grumbling under her breath, Selina peers into the depression in the wall, caste mark lighting the interior up. And ready to fling a bit of neucrotic energy at anything that might be occupying the place.
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| − | <b>Rats:</b>A few rats run from the hole, but Selina sees nothing more there... aside from filthy. And well, places where rats used to be.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> "Ugh..." Selina thinks of giving the depression a minor charge of death essence, but then remembers what it might do to the pipes. It wouldn't do to have sewage or whatever is in those fountaining all over Moon, no it wouldn't. She leans down and hoists the Lunar up, sliding him in feet first. The hole's a nice fit -- he can move his arms about easily enough and pull himself out if he has to.
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| − | <i>When he wakes up anyway.</i>
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| − | After his head is about a foot or so inside the depression, the assassin looks around and tries to mess up any signs that someone just did what she did, moving some of the muck about with her booted toes where she set Moon on the ground. And carefully trying to keep her greatcoat from getting any of the stuff on it.
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| − | <b>Spire:</b> As Selina places Moon's unconcious body on the hole in the wreckage of the city's First Age structure, she feels the cold wind of the night on her feathers... freezing, soothing, aching. Her senses had told her before none had followed her, but still... it feels oppressive. They are there, all around her, she knows. They are there, looking for her...
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Narrowing her eyes, Selina wishes she had a map...then shrugs and looks about, innate sense of the dead searching the place around her to detect if any are close enough to worry about.
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| − | <b>Spire:</b> She feels nothing about. Only afar... ghosts moving far away. Patrols looking for her, possibly?
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| − | A group of guards goes past her... and she sees something about them.
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| − | Yes... their leader. A Soulhunter. They pass through Selina, not noticing her, and breaking into one of the houses there, looking for something in it, probably her...
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| − | Still silence. Silence and darkness as Selina approaches the spire, under the fant moonlight and the cold winds. Blood stains seem to be just shadows now, the blood-marred lake simply empty, void. In front of the Spire stand its two black-cloaked guardians, seemingly unfatigable...
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| − | Many balconies around the length of it... most of them closed. The silverly white shield gracing its crest in the Moonlight... what seems like a dock, so far up... the things they probably docked there, in the First Age.... and.... there! An open door in! someone inside, Selina's windian eyes see from afar... watching the night sky, then walking in... and out of the room.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Moving to one side of the building, away from the watchers, Selina waits for some of the clouds scudding across the sky to shroud the moon -- faint as it is. And then she takes to the air, an unassuming spot in the night sky, wings beating softly as possible as she gains altitude and begins to circle to the Spire to the balcony.
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| − | <b>Spire:</b> Unseen by men, ghost or god, Selina lands softly on the Spire... seeing a room of office. The Spire doubles as a monument and holding a good part of the city's administrative potential, and as such she sees the office, books on shelves, paperwork filling a messy table... Abyssal senses still sharp, she also feels the presence of a ghost, but she is quite certain he has not seen her yet...
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Pausing for a moment as she folds her wings, Selina attempts to sense if there are any magical traps -- especially sorcery or necromancy -- before she slinks into the deeper shadows of the room.
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| − | <b>Spire:</b> Selina senses nothing truly supernatural apart from the spirit... no touch of magic on her room, at least not grand like sorcery or necromancy that she would be able to catch.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Slinking into the room with the same stealthy grace she showed when flying up to the place, Selina keeps her steps slow, wary. Stopping for a moment, she closes her eyes....and when she opens them again, an instant later, everything is more vibrant. She hears the slightest noise, picks up every visual and tactile nuance, directing her gaze to find anything on the General and his plans if she can, without having to walk up and handle papers. That would be a mite more obvious, and she'd prefer to at least find the correct ones first.
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| − | <b>Spire:</b> Selina looks the papers over... administrative papers of the city, passes... deals with the guild? Plenty of them, old and new... deals for the loot of the Spire and Whiteshield, commerece of corpses and grave goods... aside from a revolting looting, nothing too bad... nothing extremely eye-catching, except for... a letter. Broken seal of the thurible showing its procedence from the main church, open over the table....
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Moving over to the desk with the same care she showed before, enhanced senses on the alert for anything that may happen about her or near the room, Selina peers down at the paper on the table, examining it.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Spire:</b> A letter... from Bishop Aboleah to the General. It talks about movements... the Bull, Windia, and Balon, a Lunar anathema powerful and known on that region. It talks about the Winlandia's lack of response to their threat, and how that might hinder their plan. It talks of the Bull's forces stirring south of the river of tears, acting just as they wished, same with Balon's. Their desire to spread out from there, when the Labyrinth breaks out, where to strike best, which routes to take for the strikes and retreats, on the plan of burning them, falling back, and making the forces of the north meet in the field.... it talks of the Ashen Prophet and his work to spread dissent, but only briefly, no more than that. Aboleah mentions leaving Northwind as soon as the Labyrinth opens.
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| − | And, after reading all of that, Selina hears the footsteps... the person who was in the room is coming back!
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> <i>A pretty plan, but...</i>
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| − | Selina's thoughts are interrupted as someone approaches the room. Careful not to disturb anything in her flight, the assassin moves back to the balcony with as much care as possible, then goes to one side of the doorway, waiting for the person to at least enter the room before she flies off.
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| − | <b>Spire:</b> A man comes in, sturdy, strong body, raven-black hair and eyes, clothes of a knight, a religious soldier. He comes in, shuffling through the papers on the table again, continuing the writing of a paper for the guild...
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Shrugging, Selina grins to herself and then takes to the air off the balcony, moving down and checking the area to make sure there are no new guards posted as well.
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| − | <i>A pretty plan.</i>
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| − | <i>Pity I'm going to have to ruin it.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | There is, of course, that this is an elaborate plant...but it's not likely. She'll have to account for that possibility more thoroughly once she has some time to regain more of her power. So she can send a message to Alex and the rest to come south...or not.
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| − | <b>Spire:</b> Just as she does, a Cherub blows past her, exploding in light within the office. Selina can still hear the beggining of the message, talking about the deaths and losses in the border post, and the message in blood... them, enraged, seeing blood red due to her taunt. She hears it, there. Anger.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia:</b> Flying back to the place where she entered the sewers, Selina makes her landing as covert as always, chuckling quietly to herself about the amount of trouble she caused at the border station. They'd be look for her and Moon now. All of them.
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| − | <i>I just go out of axis and they'll have to search the entire area for me, rather than a straight line between the garrison and Whiteshield.</i>
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| − | Walking down the corridors of the ancient sewer system, she muses over how to best exploit this.
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| − | <i>They'll disperse themselves nicely trying to find us...</i>
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| − | <i>The hammer from the north will catch them unawares. If the ones up north can manage it anyway.</i>
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| − | Alex was too young -- she didn't know much about Cael. But Vorpal should be able to manage something. Should. As long as she didn't bristle overmuch from having her plans changed.
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| − | She reaches the spot where she had Moon stashed away while he healed, looks around warily, then moves to check on him.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>And if my hunters find out, then I will spring on them while they turn to deal with the new arrivals.</i>
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| − | ----
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SecondMovement|Second Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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