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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/ThirdMovement|Third Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == The Healer and the Killer ==
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' ''The calm before the storm. ''
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| − | The corridors of the Zephyr seem deceptively peaceful as the ship cleaves unerringly through the chill winter air towards their eventual destination. The voyage to Whiteshield is a particularly restless time for Ryshassa, who -- unlike her more military-minded companions -- takes little actual part in the planning of combat strategies for their upcoming entry into the war. Still, despite her lack of expertise in the field, she still yearns to be of some genuine use to the operation, which Valencia has openly acknowledged more than once. The Pale Angel, on the other hand...
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| − | ''Well, really... I have no idea what she thinks of me at all. Or what I should think of her, for that matter. Best to sort that out sooner than later... ''
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| − | Ryshassa pauses in her thoughtful meanderings as she emerges into the solarium, all but dimly lit so as not to interrupt the majesty of the stars viewed through the expansive windows, bright glittering points punctuating the stark fabric of night. The environs bring to mind her chance meeting with Cael only a few nights past, except for the alabaster-pale figure now perched upon the only occupied seat in the room, sifting slowly through the papers balanced upon her lap. Ryshassa's first instinct, of course, is to leave the enigmatic woman to her work, and move on -- but her most recent thoughts are enough to give her pause, for better or for worse.
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| − | "Good evening, Pale Angel," she begins simply, bowing deeply to the seated woman in greeting. "I hope I am not intruding...?"
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Once, years ago, a captain of a strike force once told young Vorpal that the higher one reached in the military ladder, the more paperwork and less actual soldiering it meant. Even captains and lieutenants had to move some papers around - and a war commander all the more so.
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| − | And so, it is this war of ink and parchments that Ryshassa finds Vorpal waging, as she leafes through various reports on supplies and equipment, fodder which keeps the gears of an army turning.
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| − | Although she is adept enough at military paperwork, it is hardly something she prefers conducting, and so she does not mind the interruption from Ryshassa's part. As a matter of fact, she almost welcomes it.
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| − | But on the other hand, there is also the imago to keep up.
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| − | "Hmm?" she arches an eyebrow, slowly lifting her gaze up from the papers. Her skin seems to almost glow against the dimly-lit background of the solarium. "Yes, what is it you need?"
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| − | *Ryshassa straightens, brushing strands of fine black hair back from her face. Clad for the moment in a kimono of dark gold embroidered with blue-violet lilies, her hair is swept up into a bun held in place by two amethyst-tipped ivory hairsticks inserted crosswise. She seats herself across from the Pale Angel as she replies, coming to the conclusion that the mercurial woman would not prefer to be looked down upon.<br><br>"Well... honestly, I wish I could say I had a deep and compelling reason to come by here and bother you." She shrugs, offering a genuine, if shy smile. "But really, I simply passed by and happened to see you sitting here. And I consider it important in and of itself to get to know the people I am to be working with -- and vice versa, of course."<br><br>"I will gladly leave you be if you are busy, though. Unless... perhaps, you wish to speak of my role as a healer among your forces. I will answer any questions you may have about that."
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "Well, I do have some things to do", Vorpal responds with a weary glance at the papers in her lap. Lifting the documents up, she sends them spreading over the table with a lazy flick of a wrist. "But I suppose a pause would do me good."
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| − | "So let's get to knowing each other." Taking a moment to study the woman seated across her, the Ghost-Blooded adjusts her own sitting position slightly and throws one leg over the knee of the other. "Do you drink?" she asks with something like friendly nonchalance and gestures at a lone bottle of suspiciously clear liquid waiting on the corner of the table. "It's something I got one of these days back in Windia. I'm not sure about its name - the merchant called it 'perevar', but I got the impression it has a real name as well. Something about rye and wheat, mixing two fifths of the alcohol with three fifths of water..." Her voice trails away and she smiles slightly, a curious glimmer in her eyes. "Don't mind me. Just chatting."
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| − | *Ryshassa chuckles, settling more comfortably into her own seat -- "Well, chatting is what I'm here for! Though I admit I wasn't expecting you to be so amenable to it. If it's imposing and intimidating you are going for, you are more than convincing in that respect," she acknowledges more soberly, maintaining eye contact despite the frank admission. "Not that I will allow my misgivings to prevent me from attempting good will."<br><br>She tilts her head to one side, considering for a moment the Pale Angel's question. "Now, I must admit, I am no expert on alcoholic beverages by any means. Nor do I make it a habit to drink them! But I do enjoy a glass or two of wine at times--it helps soothe the nerves, particularly when I have trouble sleeping. And certainly adds flavor to an otherwise incomplete meal!"<br><br>"I can't say I know a thing of that... unusual libation you are so fond of, now, though. Though perhaps with some research..." She shrugs again, lightly, not wanting to bore her with the mundane details of science. "Alchemy is not beyond my skill, after all. I yearn to create, and to make whole what is broken. And so I gravitate towards the healing arts... to music and to dance... the delicate balance of harmony and dissonance... the beauty of symmetry and form."<br><br>"What is it that inspires you, Pale Angel?" she asks earnestly -- and, perhaps, a touch foolishly, for the woman across from her is quite possibly as opposite to her nature as one could possibly get.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "Revenge", she states, with a straight face.
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| − | Reaching down to a little shelf set between the legs of their table, she extracts two tiny crystal glasses and sets them next to the bottle. "When I died for the first time - when I was born, that is - it was decided that I would gravitate towards killing arts... to the music of dying screams and the dance of clashing steel." She looks up at Ryshassa rather meaningfully as she uncorks the bottle, to make certain that the healer understands the contrast between them. Then she lowers her gaze once more, and concentrates on pouring tiny drops of the beverage into the two glasses. Tinkle of crystal gives a lonely background for the sound of her even voice. "They say the blood of the Pale Angel is as cold as her soul. She does not grow warm to men or wine, to sweet music or beautiful poetry. No, no, she's horny only for battle, for the scent of fire and death, for duels where life hangs at the end of a frayed thread..." She lets out a short, joyless chuckle. "Or that's what they say, at least."
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| − | She replaces the cork to the bottle and picks up one of the glasses, pushing the other across the table towards the Solar. "Yes, I am a scaaaaaaaaary lady with very little joy in my life." She pauses, and then adds quickly: "And bloody-minded, too! The reason why I'm not dead now is that I simply cannot stand to let them think that I'd just turn my belly and die."
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| − | And after that, she brings the glass to her lips, takes a tiny sip... and grimaces. "And I cannot really say I'm so ''fond'' of this stuff... But I thought to try something new."
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| − | "You turn", she then says, and sets the glass down. "How did you end up with a Sidereal, in any case?"
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| − | "I mean, you two ''are'' a pair, aren't you?"
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' "I see." Ryshassa's acknowledgment of her explanation is just as straight-faced. She puts a great effort into not showing a single sign of sadness or pity in her gaze, as she senses Vorpal would be offended by it. But inside, she is not at all fooled by her casual words and well-placed laughter, the unforgivably honest descriptions of her single-minded purpose as a killer. Compassionate soul as Ryshassa is, she yearns to touch the loneliness underneath that frigid, bloodthirsty exterior, the warmth that could love the beauty and affection that her reputation leaves no room for. But she also realizes the lack of wisdom in prodding deeper than what the Pale Angel desires to reveal, even in as indirect a manner as she has just done. Nor does Ryshassa doubt, for one instant, that she enjoys the execution of her revenge as much -- or as vividly -- as she claims.
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| − | "Well -- you play your part well, Pale Angel. And I am certain that you are most exceptional at your specialty, as I strive to be in mine. Of course, necessity or circumstance often dictates how we must behave, even more so than what our hearts truly desire. I know that for a fact as well, though perhaps not as deeply or intimately as you." She reaches to take the glass profferred her with a gracious nod, and raises it to her lips, wetting them tentatively with the clear liquid within. The beverage is anything but water -- bitter and strong enough to sting her eyes. "But I am not one to judge by reputations alone. It is why I make such an effort to converse personally with my associates. So that they may speak for themselves."
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| − | At the Pale Angel's counter-inquiry, she lowers her glass and nods solemnly, another small smile gracing her delicate features. "Of course -- you have been kind enough to put up with me so far. It is only fair that I offer you an explanation in return." Her fingers begin to absent-mindedly caress the orichalcum and starmetal band upon her left hand as she takes a moment to formulate her reply.
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| − | "I was born in the Realm, a young Dynast of House Cynis. I was a much meeker girl in those days, and my parents were frustrated with my lack of ambition and pacifistic tendencies. I was far from the Dynastic ideal in terms of personality, though I did quite well in my studies, for the most part. My delayed Exaltation was the last straw for them, and I became for a few years a veritable slave in their house. I served, as best I was able--out of guilt, for being so contrary to their expectations simply because of my nature."
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| − | "My Exaltation, when it came -- well, it was not what they had expected, not by far." Ryshassa laughs softly, though the expression of mirth does not wipe the haunted look from her eyes. "Given what little spirit I had in those days, I would have gladly given my life to the Wyld Hunt if Alexsei had not come to my aid. If you know he is a Sidereal, then it should be feasible to you that he would have predicted the moment of my Exaltation, and timed his arrival. He brought me away from the Realm, to what would become our home in Gethamane, where he would teach me of what I am, and train me in the use of my abilities."
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| − | "As for our... becoming a pair, well." She ducks her head, blushing demurely for a brief, vulnerable moment, as she distractedly traces a finger around the rim of her glass. "The fact we grew to love each other was an unexpected, though pleasant side effect," she finally concludes.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' The Pale Angel must admit that she does not entirely like everything she hears, nor the tone that sometimes creeps into Ryshyssa's voice. ''Playing one's part well'' is a wording that rings with a particularly ugly tone in her ears, as is the ''heart's true desire''. What in blazes does this woman think she knows...?
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| − | But then, another, more honest thought interrupts these bitter musings. Hadn't Vorpal herself just hinted about the truth when telling about herself? Hadn't she, herself, worded her narrative to try and evoke suspicions about exactly what lies beneath her icy exterior?
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| − | She reaches for the glass again with a sigh, and takes another sip of the potent beverage.<br> ''Bright morning for brains, you moron. You are bringing it on yourself. ''
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| − | But then Ryshassa's words turn to another, more pleasant topic, and the Ghost-Blooded relaxes once more. She listens carefully, nods even once or twice.
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| − | "Having a loved one, eh?" Vorpal says, and for a moment, her cold features soften. "That must be nice." She turns her head, staring absently out of the solarium's window, at the stars glittering like scattered jewels up in the night-time sky. "Have you been together for very long?"
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' "Oh..." A touch of dreaminess colors Ryshassa's voice, the blush never quite fading from her pale cheeks. "Five years now, thereabouts," she replies shyly, fidgeting with a stray lock of hair before lowering her hands to the table once more, the fingers clasping and unclasping a few times before resting more or less still. "I suppose... given the lifespan of the Chosen, it is not yet much. Yet. I mean, it isn't very long." Her blush flares anew, stronger now -- ''how embarrassing! I hadn't expected the Pale Angel to be so interested in such things! ''
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| − | "But yes, I am grateful for what I now have. I owe him my life and, truly, my livelihood... and now he has my heart, and I his." She, too, turns her gaze towards the starlight, smiling to herself at the sight of the constellations Alexsei had taught her the names of. The next, apparent question hangs back in her throat, as the silence lengthens between them: ''Have you any loved ones? '' But somehow the question seems worthless to ask -- if the Pale Angel is so driven by her revenge, so dispassionate about killing, surely most if not all she has loved has already died.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''''' Even though the question remains unasked, Vorpal answers to it nonetheless - not aloud, but in her mind.
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| − | ''Oh yes, I have'', she thinks in the silence, her eyes staring at the night-time sky, admiring its beauty without really seeing it. Probably hundreds by now. Every night a new one.
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| − | There had been pure-hearted warriors whose unyielding code of morale softened her heart, wise and learned scholars she would aid and protect, straight and righteous heroes whose strength was so vast that it surpassed even her own, and yet whose gentleness was without equal. There had been nobles who lived in white Manses, beggars whose tattered rags hid kind souls, even a fat and jolly innkeeper who always served his customers with a smile.
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| − | And then there were the more wicked ones. Men in long white coats, incubuses of inhumane beauty, statuesque men whose chests were muscular and gleaming with sweat, sultry assassins with dark wings, smiling she-devils whose physical proportions defied any laws that gravity might dictate, and so on, and so on...
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| − | When the games you played as a child were limited to the dreams you conjured up with your mind, you would develop a vivid imagination. Everything is possible in a fantasy - even the existence of someone who would love a being such as an albino Ghost-Blooded.
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' The two of them sit together in mutual contemplation, though their thoughts could be worlds apart, for all Ryshassa would know. Certainly they were a stark contrast in temperament, at least on the outside, and definitely so in terms of lifestyle -- but the fact that they could sit together this way, peacefully, was a pleasant surprise for her.
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| − | After a moment, the healer picks up her glass again, slowly swirling the liquid within, admiring the reflection of the lighting upon the crystal facets. "What of the others traveling with us, your allies? Would you consider them friends, or..." ''more''? she thinks to herself, pausing but a breath before continuing on. "I have only known them for a few days, myself, so I suppose I am still just as much a newcomer to them as to you."
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "Hmmm...?" Vorpal turns her head slowly, as if reluctant to leave whatever thoughts she had been mulling over in her mind. Then she seems to refocus once again, and sits a little straighter.
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| − | "Oh, them", she begins and wipes a stray strand of hair back from her face. "I'm not all that sure if I can truly call them ''friends''. The prince - Alex - would probably be quick to declare us as such, but you'll have to forgive the silly boy. His antics are heart-warming, but usually all too hasty. Then there is the Dark Angel -" And at this point, she almost chortles. "Don't even let me get started on the Dark Angel. The two of us cannot agree about which of the Elemental Poles lies up in the North without starting to bicker about it."
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| − | "The skypirate, Cael." She pauses, growing sober and oddly.. intense. "I have no idea why he has chosen to join us", she finally confesses with a shrug. "A typical Quicksilver Falcon, from what I have heard. You cannot make a head or tail of what is it he truly wants." Spreading her arms, she makes a vague sweep of hand which covers the entire solarium. "But he and his ship have their uses, so I don't mind his presence, either."
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| − | "So, to put it short, I'm currently living with a hyper-active little brother, a twin sister I cannot stand, and a mystery man who just somehow made his way in. Oh, and then there is the family dog, too, but we don't like each other much" She exhales deeply, and gives the healer a slanted smile. "Does that answer your question well enough?"
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| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' "Oh--quite well, actually," Ryshassa answers promptly, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she mulls over the Pale Angel's evaluation of their allies in the war -- some of them she has yet to even meet, though she suspects she will soon enough. "A very honest and thorough study," she adds, chuckling in earnest, "though I haven't a clue who the 'family dog' might be."
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| − | "I'm certain I wouldn't have worded it, erm..." she clears her throat, once "...quite the same way, but your analysis of Alexander and Cael so far are more or less close to mine. The Prince is enthusiastic and good-hearted to the point of naivete, and easily provoked to emotion, but still, I am inclined to be forgiving of such behavior -- given what he has been through as of late. Though having Prince Cedric awake and well seems to have raised his spirits... hopefully not to overly foolhardy levels, though." In her mind she recalls the Pale Angel's reaction to Alexander's show of confidence during the meeting in Windia, and winces inwardly.
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| − | "And Cael -- ah yes. The mystery man, as you say. We did have an occasion to speak more personally, not too long ago. A very pleasant man, but difficult to read." She shakes her head ruefully -- she had managed to coax some words from him besides mere pleasantries, but they were certainly long in coming. Not that she was one to force such revelations, but it still came quite a surprise that Vorpal spoke more openly than he had. "I believe he is good-intentioned at heart, though. Perhaps we shall speak again soon..."
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| − | Her voice drifts into contemplation. What was it about mysteries that made them so irresistably enticing? The appeal of the forbidden was a potent one, indeed.
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| − | Shaking herself out of such errant thoughts, Ryshassa looks to the Pale Angel apologetically and replaces her glass upon the table with a final, resounding click. "But I've taken enough of your time now, haven't I. You have your work, and I..." ''Beloved, I'll be back soon'', she thinks to herself, with a soft and tender smile that sets her violet eyes aglow with anticipation. She raises to her feet and, once again, presents the Pale Angel with a gracious bow.
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| − | Vorpal: Her eyes still twinkling with curious mischief, Vorpal leans her cheek against her white knuckles.
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| − | ''...and you, it seems, are in need of a warm lap to snuggle into'', she thinks even as she returns the Solar's bow with a simple nod of her head.
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| − | Even as Ryshyssa takes her leave of the solarium, Vorpal leans forward and begins to gather the papers back into her hands. Tapping the documents several times against the table, she fiddles them into some semblance of order once again and then leans back into her seat, returning to her work. But still the little smile lingers on her lips, and she shakes her head slightly. ''It must be nice to have a loved one. ''
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| − | ----
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/ThirdMovement|Third Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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