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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/FirstMovement|First Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Aftermath ==
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| − | <b>Resonance:</b> And suddenly... it ends.
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| − | The Nemessaries all fallen, the monks all fallen, their leader, the Blade, fallen.
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| − | For a moment, all is silence, for a moment, time stops. Adrenaline cools down.
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| − | And then... inside the Deathknights...
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| − | Inside your minds... inside your souls... inside your very virtues and desires... they laugh! A knot on your stomach, on your throat, on your eyes and on your soul. Oblivion pours forth from your hearts and purrs obcenities on your ear. They laugh at you, at your wants and desires. They show how it is nothing to them. Nothing compared to their own desires, those that guide your fates, that caress your true names and and souls.
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| − | Inside Vorpal’s heart, the lovers wither and die, convulsing sickly for an eternity, because she dared to look upon them. To admire them. To dream of them. Her attention and her love was their undoing, and all she can do is watch as these sweet figures burn under the oblivion that washes from her...
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| − | Inside Selina’s heart, she sees her child, hugs him tightly... and sees as her love burns his skin, as her feathers burn his soul, sees as he crumbles to ash and dust on her hands... just like the images of her family, the blood on her hands, the blood of them all on her hands...
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| − | And so, the laugh is gone, echoing hollowy on your souls, leaving only the barreness of your wombs and souls and the pointlessness of your desires now... as you are servants of Oblivion. Tools for the ultimate death, shaped as the women you once were, and no more.
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Selina and the iconic dragon in her crackling, whispering anima growl as one as the Malfeans invade her soul. She backs away from Alex, away from everyone, as her appearance becomes that much more feral, her beauty twists toward death in a way that would frighten those not used to the strictures of Abyssals.
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal had known all along what punishment they would receive, even though all they did was fulfilling the orders the Lover, her Deathlord, had given them. She had known this, prepared for this, yet even so she shudders involuntary, barely able to contain the sheer <i>disgust</i> she holds for these rules that bind her existence to the Malfeans... She resents this leash, detests it... <i>hates</i> it.
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| − | The Pale Angel who turns back to check upon the welfare of the prince is not the same who rode in to save him.
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> The young Zenith pants, holding to his side as it stops bleeding, looking around... and listening to the silence of death. No sound at all now, said the faint roaring of Selina's dimming anima, and the peaceful noise of the river... that keeps on, uncaring, following its fate with abandon....
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| − | Millia opens her eyes... and sees. She had shut them tighter at each clang, at the sound of flesh cut as if by a demonic butcher, of metal on metal, of elemental power.... shut them tighter and tighter, but now.... all is silent. And when she opens her eyes, all she sees... is the light of three demigods facing off.... thir animas dimming over a field of corpses.
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| − | All around the angels, there are pines... tarnished by blood, burnt by essence. many of these crackle on fire, burnt by the flames that the boy placed on the dead. the flames roar, smoke pouring around the valley, whose ground was once covered in moist, wet stones and thick shrub, and is now covered in corpses and burnt snakes. The burning is just around the angels, some of the branches falling to the ground... as the droplets from earlier begin to pour, rain heavy as the air on the little valley....
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> The Windian's anima flares from its diminishing state for a moment, the violent show of essence accompanied by a piercing *crack* as all of the incandescent lightning forms into one bolt that strikes into the heavens above, through the clouds and beyond.
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| − | And then Selina opens her eyes, and sees the ravens watching her. The ravens and the crows. All of them. Perched on trees, and but for her rapidly diminishing anima, perched on her as well. She chuckles under her breath, the sound tinted by a little bit of madness. Just a bit.
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> The boy rises his blade to Selina... panting, looking around.. scared. His eyes look at Vorpal and Selina with uncertainty... coming close to tearson a moment.... before changing, as he places a mask over them. Confidence.
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| − | His sword risen, pointing to the Dark Angel, his eyes study her, and specially, the bleeding brand on her forehead. “Why did you do it? Kill your own? What do you <i>want</i>?”
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| − | <b>Moranine:</b> But, as his blade rises... Selina can’t help but see it... striking her, cutting her... burning her flesh... it comes, again and again, <i>that accursed blade... <b>my</b> blade, you hypocrite! My creation, you <b>self-righteous hypocrite!</b></i> she had something on her hands.. not Dreamshard, no.. it was heavier.. and so delightfully <i>dark</i>! Like holding one of the Malfeans, one of these damned things laughing on her soul, on the palm of her hand... she had it, she had it as he struck her so...
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Without a word, Vorpal slowly turns around and begins to walk across the battlefield. The quietly moaning blade dripping blood in her hand, she treads over the fallen, her skin seemingly aglow with an eerie, cold white light against the darkness of her clothing and surroundings.
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| − | A mourning sound rises from her throat, an ancient song for the fallen that was sung in another age. She hums it quietly, almost idly as she walks, and the chill washes over the battlefield. Spreading out from her like like a wave, it freezes the blood, makes everyone's breath whisper out from their lungs in puffs of frost. All the flames crackling in the woods around them flicker and then gutter away, the sacred remnants of the boy's purifying Essence snuffed out by the sheer, overwhelming presence of tainted evil.
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> <i><b>Yes</b></i>. Comes the thought, that feeling of something heavier in her hands, then it's gone, leaving behind but one flickering image-shard before disappearing entirely.
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| − | <i>'The shadow of the moon, little bird.'</i>
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| − | Selina gasps as the ecstasy of the vision leaves her, and the rage as well. Leaves her, staring out across the field of battle, the carrion-fowl still looking at her. Such accusing looks, as if she had overstepped something. The assassin had seen the like before. Suppressing another mad chuckle she forces herself to sheath her rapier, walking back as her anima continues to diminish. Soon it will be gone, and then they will pester her.
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| − | "They will not be idle long...these hunters." She says in a low voice, surveying the scene.
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal's route over the dead takes her to her fallen horse, and she hums the final verse of the hymn standing over the valiant animal.
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| − | The Ghost-Blooded had not know this horse for long - she had purchased it only as an additional mount in order to keep the prince mounted and moving swiftly alongside with everyone else. It had not even been very good for a horse - quite different from the magnificent steeds she had ridden in service to her Deathlord. However, its courage had been extraordinary, even for a Shadowland horse - few living animals dared to go quite as readily into battle amongst the living dead.
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| − | Crouching down, Vorpal reaches out to touch the horse, to make certain it truly is dead. "I know", she responds to the Dark Angel over her shoulder, as she notices that the horse is not dead, but hurt, in suffering...
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| − | <i>No good.</i> Vorpal frowns. <i>You deserve better.</i>
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| − | She pulls out her knife - she will not use a Soulsteel weapon on this one - and sets to the task.
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Leaving the other deathknight to her task, Selina begins to move slowly, inexorably, toward the Solar. One step a time, and the anima begins to gutter out. The first of the ravens perches on her left shoulder, then a smaller crow on the top of one of her own black-feathered wings, and still she comes.
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| − | "Child." She states, looking first to Alex and then to the girl, her voice matter-of-fact. "Children. I, at least, am not out to kill you. Or deliver you to a pretentious lout like the Bishop."
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| − | <b>Millia:</b> Millia widens her eyes at Selina, trembling in shock at the sight of... everything. "H-ho... how...."
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> Alex looks at Selina.... something stirring inside his eyes. He narrows his eyes for a moment, then shakes his head, fighting a battle inside himself... but his eyes never leave Selina's bleeding dark caste mark. "Thank you then, kind lady." He says as a most cold, learned manner, not knowing what else to say as he sheathes his sword. "You will leave us now?"
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Selina looks right into his eyes, turquoise glance colder than the surrounding area as she does so.
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| − | "No."
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "<i>What do you want?!?</i>" He snaps, his voice breaking for a second... then, breathing hard, he countains himself, but Selina can see tears wanting to come out of his eyes... "You said... the Bishop? Who's he? Who are you people?!?Why..."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "The Bishop is a Deathlord", the Pale Angel puts in as she strides up to the others. Her work done, her knife and sword have been cleaned, the first resting in her belt and the other jutting out from its sheath over her shoulder, she holds her hands folded over her chest. "The being who let his armies loose upon your kingdom, had them invade your home and slay your family, and now has sent out his hunters to pursue and capture you - the very undead you and us just fought side-by-side."
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> For a moment he listens, and trembles slightly, as if every word out of Vorpal mouth hit him stronger than the Soulhunter's swords, making him remember... what he shouldn't remember.... making him close his eyes for a moment, tor try and make the images go away..."Deathlord..... you are the same as them..." He says as he walks towards Millia, helping the girl to her feet, taking his little brother on his arm, trying to look stronger for him as he turns around, standing protectively in front of Millia, "She said you won't leave. What do you want?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal remains silent for a moment. Frankly speaking, she is a little impressed. She had expected a sudden outburst of anger and vengeance, or sudden tears breaking helplessly out from his eyes... But instead of that, he chose to try and do something useful.
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| − | An Exalted, this boy was. She liked him.
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| − | "No, we are not the same as them", Vorpal then says - the tone of her voice reveals that she is not boasting, merely stating facts. "We are more powerful and dangerous than they ever were. We are still alive, and quite capable of continuing to be very dangerous should it be needed. But most importantly, unlike them, we fought to protect you."
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| − | "And what do we want?" With a little grunt, the albino crouches down, balancing on the toes of her feet, and gives the young prince a direct look. What she says next is stated simply, in a non-threatening manner, as if coming from a customer who'd like three apples from the grocery market. "We want you."
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> <i>But for what</i>? Selina wonders, narrowing her eyes as she thinks on what her 'partner' just said. <i>Not this mockery, I would hope.</i>
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| − | "To be out of danger." She follows up, stepping away from Vorpal as a few more birds come to perch on her shoulder and wings. As she moves, one or another loses its balance for a moment, flapping its wings before regaining balance on her. "Certain people have no need of additional servants. Living or dead."
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "So... you will help? Protect us....?" He says, his face brightening up as the caste mark vanishes from his brow, sunlight all but vanished from his surroundings, nothing like the conflgration it was before.... his eyes showing all the innocence of youth, as he believes they are there for him, to help him, pto ptrotect... but then he takes a deep breath, remembering himself of what court was, that things aren't so simple... while stil wanting to believe so badly, "... Just like that?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> <i>Which "people" are you referring to, Dark Angel?</i> Vorpal thinks, not liking the other Abyssal's choise of words. <i>The Bishop, the Lover, or the both?</i>
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| − | An inner part in Vorpal cringes at the sight of Alex's trusting face. What a joke from the Lover's part, to send them rescue the Exalted prince from another Deathlord, only to have them take the boy into her own abode instead...!
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| − | That cursed Lover, she had known the irony of this all along!
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| − | "No, it is never that simple", she finds herself saying in a mildly annoyed tone of voice. "Yes, we have come to help you, and to protect you from Bishop's minions. However, in return, you will need to come with us to meet another Deathlord instead."
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> Alexander takes a moment to look upon his younger brother's sleeping face. "... I was going to take him to Windia..." He says. "Can't we take him there first? You said she wanted me, right?"
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "Indeed. Windia should be...safer." Walking back to her greatcoat, Selina snarls at the birds perched atop her, then bends down to pick it up and shakes them off, putting it on for the few moments they're gone. Then they return again, looking at her. She ignores them.
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| − | "I will tell you this much, young Solar," Selina continues from where she left off. "You are not beholden to serve her, whatever she, or anyone else, may say."
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> Alex looks at Selina, surprised... trying to understand the Deathknight, and failing. "... Thanks... I will remember this. But, if you help me get my brother to somewhere safe... then I wiill go meet, whoever you say..."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "No-one spoke of servitude yet", the Ghost-Blooded agrees quietly. "You will only need to visit her."
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| − | There is a moment of silence, as Vorpal closes her red eyes and exhales a slow sigh. It seems as if she'd be a little cold, hunching on the ground the way she does, her arms wrapped around her, the folds of her dark cloak spread out on the ground.
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| − | "Very well", she finally states and reopens her eyes. "We shall go to Windia." Thus saying she rises to her feet, arching her back and stretching her hands high ebove her head as she does so.
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| − | <b>Darkness:</b> Somewhere in the distance, the din of galloping hooves echoes through the dark forest. Whoever it is, the rider is approaching your location, fast.
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "And quickly, before I have to soil my hands with fanatics once more." Selina grates, looking toward the sounds, trying to ascertin how many horses there are. "Bad enough I associate with Immaculates."
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> His face lit up by the prospect, the boy smiles, holding his little brother close to his chest.... then, he shakes his head, looking at the Abyssals, "Sorry... seems like I have forgotten my manners, fair ladies... I am Alexander Holysword, prince of Whiteshield. Would you be so kind as to name yourselves?" He says, repeating words rehearsed on his mind....
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal lifts her head in the direction of the sound. She is oddly restful about this new arrival, as if she had been expecting for it all along. "About time", she mutters.
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "I am...Aine Blackwater." Selina purrs, the emerald gem at her throat dimming as the need for her supernatural beauty passes. She is still alluring, but not quite so...otherworldly. Besides the taint from her resonance of course.
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| − | "You may know me by another name. The Kinslayer, perhaps?" She shrugs and then looks to Vorpal's expression and similarly relaxes. Too low on essence to worry, if something bad is going to happen, it will. "That is all I can say."
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "Black feathers... Scythe... Dressed as a..." He says, repeating a description saying in stories all throughout WIndia... of what the little monster that killed her parents had become. "Selina Mirana De Windia. It's you...." His eyes narrow at once. He had heard of great monsters, but now he knew he was face to face with a cruel, coward creature, that murdered her kin, and fled the kingdom to sell her blade and her body....
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| − | And yet...
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| − | ... She's the one that saved his life.
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| − | The sound of hooves grows stronger, its thundering beat reverberating in branches, bushes and tree-trunks. There is movement amongst the dark trees, a great, sleek shape of blackness flitting through the shadows. Then the great beast bursts out from the thicket and into the clearing, a magnificent giant of a horse with shining-black hide and a mane that is the color of a purest frost. Powerful muscles playing under its skin with each stride, its nostrils flaring, its eyes shining with a curious spark of an intelligence, it slows down its gallop, first into a canter, then into a walk, before it halts altogether and simply… stands there, in the middle of the bloody battlefield, amongst the slain undead.
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| − | Although fully saddled and bridled, its saddlebags bulging with packed supplies, the horse boasts with no rider.
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| − | "They say you were a child of the dragon...." He says, remembering the display of her anima... "You have really fallen so...."
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> She ignores the name, not wanting the dead gods to 'gift' her with more of their favor, instead laughing lightly, echoing the Nemissary from before with that old refrain. "What is dead may never die...but rises again. Harder, stronger."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal's eyes flicker between the prince and the assassin as the Ghost-Blooded Abyssal watches silently the play that seems to be unfurling between the two. Did these two share a common history?
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| − | "Haughtier", she says off-handedly as she walks up to the horse to gently stroke its muzzle and croon into its ears.
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "As befits me, yes." Selina agrees with the other Abyssal, flicking a glance toward her as she lets one of the ravens settle on her right hand, stroking its head with her left. "A ruler must be haughty, sure of themselves. They cannot let themselves be ruled by any other, which is why I am a renegade now."
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> Alex stops his staring at Selina for a moment to look at the new arrival, watching closely as Vorpal walks to and pets it... used to see horses of great quality, he is, even so, amazed at the sight of usch animal... "Your horse?" he says, "It is... imposing."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Pretentious, too", Vorpal adds with a shrug, favoring Selina with one slanted smile before turning to address Alex.
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| − | "This is Ice", the Ghost-Blooded states, hiding the trace of pride from her voice and pats the side of the horse's head. "She is a war horse, so be sure to be careful around her... She has a nasty temper when provoked. Like I do", she adds meaningfully.
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "I will.... and yes, I can see that, from his build... he is... magnificent." He says, looking at the girl behind him, "Can you take Millia with you, there?" as he says so, he looks at Selina... as if he had something at the tip of his tongue, to say, but would rather not... at least, not now.
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "It takes one to know one." Selina says off-handedly, flatly. "I suppose meeting you answers someone's question: Could you stand living with a twin of yourself?" She snorts, looking to Alex again. "I suppose it would be...taxing."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "I am glad we understand each other, Dark Angel", comes the grim response.
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| − | "We will put the ones who need the most rest atop the horse", Vorpal states as she walks around Ice to check that the saddle is still properly attached. "I had been hoping for more horses, but we will have to do with this one." Turning her gaze to Alex, she asks: "Can you ride, boy?"
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> A grim smile to their talk, finding a sort of dark humor in all that, unsure where to step, or if to follow them... Alex nods. "I was brought up as a prince." he says, amiably, "We are expected to know such things. Although... it's not always that my father let me mount in one so... powerful."
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| − | With these words, Alex walks up to the horse... "Can I?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Just a moment", Vorpal responds, with a curious smile on her face. Walking in front of the horse once again, she grabs Ice by the bridles and gives the great head a little shake.
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| − | "<i>Do not throw</i>", she announces, pronouncing each word with a heavy weight.
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| − | Apparently satisfied with the reaction she got from Ice, Vorpal stands back a few steps and nods to Alex. Lifting her hands to her hips, she waits and watches.
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> <i>Just like me, hmm?</i>
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| − | Selina looks at the other deathknight again, less obvious than previous times, but a bit more examining. What she sees is not entirely to her disproval.
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| − | <i>I wonder in how many ways.</i>
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> Alex looks at the horse, then at the boy on his hands. It takes some time for him to make a decision, but then, he turns to vorpal, and offers the body on his hands, "Can you... carry him for me?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> The Ghost-Blooded does not respond immediately. She stands before Alex silent and ominous, her commanding presence felt almost on a physical level. An Abyssal warrior strong and powerful, an alabaster goddess of dangerous allure. The intensity of her red gaze rests heavily upon Alex, the thoughts behind that mask of ice unreadable.
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| − | "...sure", she finally responds, not even looking at the boy as she slowly extends her strong arms.
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "Here..." The prince presents the younger one to her, with care, as if handling the most delicate, purest, most important thing on the world... looking at Vorpal with expectancy, every fiber of him wondering if he didn't make a mistake.
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Is it possible to look dangerous and dignified when holding a 6-years old child in your arms? It is difficult to say, but Vorpal definitely tries hard. Her face carefully emotionless, her arms holding their valuable cargo gently, if not downright gingerly, she steps back from the prince and Ice...
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| − | ...and gives Selina a fiery glare, as if warning her not to say a word.
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> <i>And she says I'm pretentious.</i> As one, the ravens and crows join Selina in looking at Vorpal, in one blank group stare, before returning to what they were doing before.
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> With Cedric safe on the Pale Angel's hands, the prince rises, tentatively going over the bridle, handling the horse with care and the hands of someone who knows how to do it - if not very well. "There, Ice, there... good boy, good boy... there..." He says, trying to control the horse... taking a couple of steps with it... "There..." And smiling as he feels himself riding a war horse.... feeling like a knight ready for war....
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| − | And then, in his unnatural sleep... Cedric stirs, his hands rising to Vorpal's face as the little boy's lips move, saying some undiscernible word... but Vorpal can almost hear it, as a distant cry for a mother....
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| − | It rains over the battlefield, the lack of trees making Selina feel the water hitting over her greatcoat and soaking it, making Vorpal feel the water trickling down her immaculately white hair and face, trickling down the little prince’s face as he lay on her arms, his face one of pleasant sleep, as if in his mother’s arms – thankfully oblivious to his surroundings.
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| − | Feeling the rain over his blood-soaked clothes, Alexander looks resplendent over Ice as his anima finishes its gradual fading, steering the horse around the battlefield tentatively... intent in enjoying the control of such a great mount and forgetting everything else as he walks towards one of the Soulhunters he had beheaded before. Watching her prince in awe, Millia gets up, looking around at the scene of carnage... and grimacing at how her mind had begun to get used to it.
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| − | Shaking her head and her dirty blonde hair, the young servant, not a beauty like all around her, but with some cuteness all her own, walks towards Vorpal, eyeing her with the toughest face she could muster with her big brown eyes, “E-Excuse me.” She says, trying to harden her voice in desperation, to focus her mind and existence so she can bear all that was happening and not disappear under the existence of the Abyssals “But caring for the young prince is my duty."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Slowly, almost reluctantly does Vorpal lift her gaze from the sleeping prince, her mien surprisingly absent and thoughtful, as if her mind was working on completely other matters on the moment. Then, seeming to register the young servant's presence and words, the mien of firm confidence immediately slams back in place, banishing any hint of weakness from her entire being. Back is the Pale Angel again, cold and dangerous. Her eyes gleam hot red underneath the heavy bangles of her soaked hair as she focuses all the considerable power of that gaze on the girl, as if asking what force in the world could twist the young servant's mind so that she dared to even speak in the Ghost-Blooded's presence.
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| − | A moment passes, and then Vorpal extends her arms without a word, offering the sleeping child to Millia.
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Rummaging about in the pockets of her dark brown greatcoat, Selina pulls out a slice of dried fruit -- what it is exactly is open to interpretation -- and pops it in her mouth as she looks from one of her 'companions' to another, standing close to a tree. And perhaps, a bit out of mind as well.
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| − | <i>Finally she'll have someone else to stare at besides me.</i> The Dark angel thinks sourly, reaching inside her greatcoat for another piece of dried and powdered fruit.
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| − | <b>Millia:</b> To her credit, she did try. Her gaze defiant before the storm of the Pale Angel, but... not enough. Her beautiful mismatched eyes of red and black come down as a wolf defeated in a staredown with the leader of the pack, as the bastard-born takes the child on her arms, hugging Cedric close... her link to a happy life with the royals, her link to a family so much above her station, but who had taken her in, done so much for her... for a panoply of other servants who were as a family to her... and to the duty she had with them all. A duty for the royals, to keep the child safe.
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| − | | |
| − | The duty she had failed once before, freezing when she should be protecting.
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| − | | |
| − | Her gaze tries to lift up to Vorpal, and fails, her mismatched eyes cast down, yet her voice manages to go far enough up. "W-what... is your name?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> Stopping over the Soulhunters... Alex smiled. Before, the scene was able to make him scared... but now, atop the warhorse, he felt at the top of the world. The pain of the wounds still acute, but he could bear, now. Smiling, he hops down as theatrically as he can, his silver hair moving in the wind, still dry from his warm anima of golden sunlight, only now feeling the raindrops...
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| − | | |
| − | ...And then, his foot caught on the saddle. Stopped mid-air as a geeze caught by its legs while trying to fly, he yelped... and <i>fell</i>, face-first on the dirty ground, face burying in the moist black earth.
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| − | | |
| − | Lazily, Ice walked foward a couple of steps to eat some plant, dragging the prince's face through the earth with him....
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "They call me the Pale Angel", the Ghost-Blooded responds with a cool tone of voice.
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| − | | |
| − | All of a sudden, she feels a little guilty for intimidating the girl like that - it was fine to keep her enemies, her would-be manipulators, her so-called ally and all the other such people in this world on their toes with you, but this young servant who obviously had a strong sense of duty for the prince hardly belonged to any of those categories... not especially after all the horrors she had no doubt endured these past few nights already.
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| − | | |
| − | Turning side-ways to look at the other prince's antics with her horse, Vorpal shifts her weight to one leg and lifts her hands to her hips. "What is yours?" she asks from the servant, off-handedly.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Millia:</b> Vorpal's question makes Millia's eyes go up again. A moment ago, she was a defeated member of the pack - unimportant, clinging to her duty... but somehow, Vorpal's distant, passing concern for her name stirred something in her. When you stand in front of a goddess of death, the simple fact that she wonders what your name is.... "Millia!" she says, lit up, "Millia Gust."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> Flickering her turquoise gaze to Alex, Selina coughs to cover a peal of laughter, then begins to walk toward him, swallowing the second piece of fruit. "Don't be too proud of the brilliant power you've received." Selina purrs, striding toward the prince with a self-satisfied smile. "The ability to burn a few corpses is insignificant compared to some of the Exalts <b>I've</b> seen."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "All right, Millia", Vorpal continues, keeping her gaze carefully aimed away from the servant at all times. Her mind occupied by some... <i>other</i> things, she spares little mirth for Alex's complications with her mount. "We will put you and the child on the horse. I think you two will need to be on the saddle if we wish to move with any speed."
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| − | | |
| − | Not waiting for Millia's reply, Vorpal lets out a quick, sharp whistle from her lips, to summon Ice to her... and never mind the fact that Alex is still attached.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> The young swordsman lifts his face from the black earth... moments ago, his milky white face was a mask of the sun's immaculate glory, untouched by anything by the might of the sun... but now, without the light, it looked so earthly, so... human. Dirtied by the black, as the boy spits out the moist black earth. But yet, even as that, almost inhumanly beautiful. A face to give faerie a run for their wants, simple beauty without the allure of their sultryness, and not steaming from devious chaos but the sun's excellence.
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| − | | |
| − | Flinching, embarassed, he looks the other way, trying to avoid Aine's gaze... trying not to think he embarassed himself so in front of the 'enemy'..
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| − | | |
| − | <i>What a sad excuse for a chosen of the sun I am...</i>
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| − | | |
| − | He thinks, but turning around with a false smile of confidence, "Ooh, I can do much more than that, kinslayer. But, if you insist...." A wave of his hand, a touch on the inert corpse of the Nemessary.
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| − | | |
| − | And then, his golden brilliance burst forth into life, cleaning his face again, jolting from him into the body... and consuming it into holy righteousness. In a flash of sunlight, all that was left was the armor as the twilight-colored smoke was sent to heaven... and the armor itself, its white jade and brass plates, glistening with light. Before they were dirty, and under the moonlight, shone a pale, opressive shade - the white and brass of the Underworld, tied to the fate of the Malfeans. But now, it was clean, shining - consecrated by the Unconquered Sun.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Millia:</b> "Wasn't... Alexander going to ride on the horse?" She says, a slight tint of blush on her cheeks. "I don't think I can ride so well..."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Would you rather walk all the way to Windia?" It is not until now that Vorpal allows her gaze to stray back to the servant, away from the light that the newly-bred Exalted was pouring forth again, light which hurt her yes. "You will only need to sit on the saddle and make sure the kid will not fall. I will lead the horse myself."
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| − | | |
| − | Obedient to her mistress, Ice approaches them with a steady pace.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "Alright!" She says, walking up to ice, cradling Cedric as the most important and fragile thing on earth. Vorpal's voice echoing in her soul, her presence making the girl follow her lead - no matter the fact that the albino is an incarnation of death - her commanding attittude subsuming such concerns, making the bastard girl feel safe as long as Vorpal leads her way.
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| − | | |
| − | Under this effect, the girl climbs on ice, caressing its black mane, trying to think of things far away from the death-filled Valley....
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| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "Silly boy." The assassin murmurs, looking at the golden aura channeled into the plate, despite how it burns her eyes. "I have seen a child of the stars appear and disappear from a meeting with me, like he was never there to begin with. I've seen a few of your kind, and a moon-god or two, resplendant in her primal fury. I even killed some of them -- the Princes of the Earth pay handsomely for that, you may be sure."
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| − | | |
| − | Stopping a good distance from the boy, Selina's eyes grind into him. "What claim have you on that, nestling? Have you seen the tomb at Se-dal-maise, and glimpsed the hungry ghost of long dead Ajaral Kelim waiting ravenously for someone -- anyone -- to brave the traps and Celestial Lions standing before his body's sanctum, waiting to devour them? Have you heard the tales of the Bitch Queen of Fangs, holding court in the southern jungles, attired every morning in a different skin from long dead princesses of an age past? No?" The Windian's grin becomes a bit mocking. "Be thankful the only ancient terror you have to endure in this little slice of the world is a trollop sitting in a castle some hundreds of miles away."
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> Silence.
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| − | | |
| − | Is all that follows Selina's pronouncement, her words registering on the boy's mind only half-way through. Hurt pride in his eyes as he turns away, and begins doning the reinforced breastplate. Arm guards, leg guards. boots, shoulder guards. Readying the breastplate in a thousand-times rehearsed gesture, as much as the geography of the north, the names of all countries, of the elemental dragons or poems of ages long past. All the while gritting his teeth, trying not to speak on his wounded pride, the would-be king in him seeing red under this mockery.
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| − | | |
| − | Past half of her speech, all he knew was the implied meaning, her implied superiority over him.
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| − | | |
| − | "No." He says at last, eyes hidden beneath his silverly hair as he notices the breastplate will not fit with his wings, kicking it. "I haven't."
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| − | | |
| − | "But I <b>have</b> heard of the Bull, and the Lover. I have seen gods in flesh in front of me, as Thousand-Winged Maiya and Eye of Jade and Emerald visited us. And I have seen my mother dead in my arms, and my father with a spear of bone through his heart. I have seen a Soulsteel statue higher than you, fighting my father with serpents of void sticking out of him. I have seen <i>my country DIE, you monster!</i>"
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| − | | |
| − | He says, almost lashing at Selina, but then just turning back and walking away, taking his sheathed Daiklave from Ice and placing it on his belt. "And I have seen scarier people than the two of you."
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| − | | |
| − | And as he says that, he manages only to hold a few tears back on reddened eyes.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Up you go", Vorpal lends the assistance of her strong hands to Millia as she struggles to climb onto the back of the great horse. Oddly careful to make certain that the young boy does not slip at any moment of the process, she helps the girl's feet into the stirrups and finishes with a quick pat to Ice's powerful neck. "There are trail rations in the saddlebacks, eat while you ride."
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| − | | |
| − | Stepping back for a moment to examine her arrangements, the Ghost-Blooded then turns back to Alex and the Dark Angel.... and her gaze immediately turns chilly.
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| − | | |
| − | "T-thanks.." Says the servant maiden, already looking for one of them short after making her prince comfortable... and then, freezing. The voices come to her like thunder, and she stops to look in disbelief as two beautiful demigods raise their voices...
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "Gods." She snorts, looking back at him. "I have to deal with them often enough." Moving behind him, bringing a hand around to trace over his face, she purrs the next sentences out. "You don't need to fear something to die by it, silly boy. Arrogance, fear, confidence..all of it <i>simply does not matter</i>. Dead is dead."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "<i>Spare</i> my ears from the pain", Vorpal puts in, her voice sharp like riven splinters of glass and cold like a winter hail. There is an abrupt menace in her voice, her very presence of being filling the clearing and pressing against the skin of everyone there with an almost hand-felt force. Compulsive, magnetic, downright frightening in its morbid allure, her voice captures everyone's attention, overriding all intentions to speak any more, and listen carefully what its wielder has to say...
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> Dead is dead.
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| − | | |
| − | Death, death, death.... was there anything around him lately? At his feet was the corpse of a Souleater, its obscene jaws jutting out, its armor slashed through by Mournful Kiss. Behind him was a goddess of death, feathers pale as the night, flash pale as the Underworld Moon... and an even paler goddess had spoken to him right now, and her words wove a spell around him, taking him by his throat and forcing him to look at her and heed her words...<i>You think I don't know</i>?!?He snapped back at Selina, breaking out of it, anger and shame at his surface, "Father is dead, mother is dead, the Brooks are dead, Otieno is dead... and Carina... and Fiona... and Cedric won't open his eyes... but the rest... they... THEY ARE ALL DEAD!" He says, tears rolling from his eyes... "My <i>country</i> is dead and all I could do was run...my father didn't fear the monsters, and they killed him anyway. I <b>know</b>!"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Every word flies from her lips like a dagger, hurtling through the air cold and sharp and dripping with lethal venom. Every word is aimed with a brutal and deadly accuracy, intended to scythe down souls, to rake the mind raw and to maim the will into crippled obedience.
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| − | | |
| − | "Dark Angel, for all your silly boasting and empty threats, you could not even handle three measly Ghost-Blooded on your own! Therefore, do quit bullying around freshly Exalted Solars as if that would make you someone of importance. You are nothing but a little chicken who has been dipped into a bucket of tar and now pretends to be a black falcon instead. In case you have not noticed so far, Selina Miriana de Windia, your act fools no-one."
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| − | | |
| − | "And as for <i>you</i>, little prince, it is very nice to sound all lost and tragic, but it hardly wins any sympathy from anyone here. If you truly wish to make people who ruined your life pay for what they did, if you wish to make any difference to what your fate is, quit whining and act instead. You wanted to take these two into safety in Windia - what are you still loitering around? <i>Start walking</i>!"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "<i>You</i>...." Alex says, turning to Vorpal.... and yet, her words make him silent. Swallowing on his pride for the moment, the young prince takes his hand out of the Daiklave's handle, where it was - unconsciously - resting as he snapped at Selina, eyeing both Abyssals with rage as he walks ahead, teeth rattling... but saying no more.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina De Windia:</b> "And I was forced to kill mine, even as my trapped mind screamed inside me to stop." Selina purrs, breaking away from him as he turns around, then feeling the impact of Vorpal's tirade. The feathers on her wings fluff out, then smooth down as she hunches a bit -- wings drooping down somewhat -- then looks at the other deathknight a tad furatively, letting her words wash over her. All of it, not just the fright implicit in the threat. A bit of blush colors her cheeks.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>Shall we?</i>
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| − | | |
| − | Fixing her gaze on Vorpal, hungry now, just a bit subserviant, Selina takes one step toward her, then another.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>Yes</i>
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| − | | |
| − | Her red lips purse, then move into a lavicious smile as she walks toward the other deathknight, still a bit drawn in on herself. "Ooohh, so small, yes. Shall I...serve you, ivory mistress of the north?"
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| − | | |
| − | <i>Yes</i>
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| − | | |
| − | <i>Yes...</i>
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| − | | |
| − | <i>Yes.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | <i>Yes!</i>
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| − | | |
| − | She giggles a bit, gliding toward the other Abyssal, eyes almost manically focused, blushing still, white teeth revealed in what would be a death head's grin were it not so lustful. "You can go on top...<i>yes</i>..." Her voice comes out in a low, throatily subservient purr as she works her fingers by her sides, as if flexing them for something. "Instruct me." The last sentence is tinged with mad, naughty giggles.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander:</b> <i> ...wha?</i>
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| − | | |
| − | Alex looks at it in... disbelief. Millia blushes and her eyes search for her prince, whose eyes in turn can just look at the women... still aflame with rage for them, still angry, face still red and filled with tears... and yet...
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| − | | |
| − | If there was <i>anything</i> that would make the young Zenith's opinion of these women even more puzzled... that would be it. His heart still racing fast, his tears still wet on a face still red... and yet, as he dried them, for the first time... the handsome prince looked at them as women.
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| − | | |
| − | As if they couldn't get any more intimidating.
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| − | | |
| − | Confused, he watched, partly wondering what devil had taken hold of Selina, partly wondering if her words really meant what he thought it did... some part of him grinning and embarassed at the same time as it pictured them... and most of him still aflame in anger at the two monsters he had to protect him, wishing he would just take the sword and strike them down...
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Vorpal:</b>...now <i>that</i> was something Vorpal had not expected.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>...don't tell me...</i>
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| − | | |
| − | The Ghost-Blooded had honed her talents to frighten others into obedience to near-perfection over the years. When the Pale Angel truly put her mind to the task, she rarely failed to convince anyone to do as she asked - even more rarely after she had Exalted. She had seen many kinds of reactions to her performances, from timid shivering to downright paniced flight, and sometimes, on the days when she just could not find the correct edge, barely-contained hostility. Never, however, had she witnessed a reaction such as... this.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>...don't tell me she's...</i>
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| − | | |
| − | Although Vorpal still possesses the presence of mind to maintain her commanding facade, inwardly, she recoils at the sight of Selina approaching her in a such a manner. Her turqoise eyes burning brightly, round curves apparent even through her heavy coat, her every move filled with that uncanny sensuality...
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| − | | |
| − | <i>...ugh.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | Abruptly Vorpal turns around, her broad cloak sweeping the ground at the motion. She strides back to the horse and takes hold of the bridles, every one of her moves making it very clear that on the moment, the Dark Angel is not worthy of her attention. After a moment of thought, however, one of her gloved hands rise to grab her cloak's hood and pull it up and over her head...
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| − | | |
| − | ...to conceal the fact that a faint red tinge has risen to her usually so white cheeks.
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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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