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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/ThirdMovement|Third Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Shattered Soul ==
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| − | <b>Narration:</b> The Winterwing estate possessed what the wealthy in Windia proper would describe as "a quaint, rustic charm."
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| − | For certain, it was majestic by the local standards, where single story log-cabin homes with thatch roofs were what most were born, raised, and would eventually die in. Scarcely fifty of such homes composed the little town which clustered on the crook of land which jutted out into the bend of a broad, icy stream. A spattering of taller buildings lay scattered among the modest homes, granaries or mismatched work centers. The town had a very nice wall, built from pieces of stone scavenged from the boneyards of ruined roads and fallen temples that lurked in the forests near by. Two tall wooden towers stood watch over the gate and let the weary militia men at the top keep an eye upon the farmsteads that were just beyond the town.
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| − | By comparison to the town, the Winterwing estate was a veritable palace. Behind a low stone wall of it's own, it was three stories high and broad shouldered atop the slopping hill east of the town. Like a hunting lodge gone out of control, log after log stacked upon one another to form it's walls and blue shingles glinted in the pale noon-day sun, splitting open in several places to disgorge fat red chimney stacks. It's face was open and fresh, windows in the multitude looked out over the tiny cluster of homes bellow or the frosted trees of the forest to it's back. The creaking blades of a windmill turned at it's center, their hide-bound arms oiled and fresh to best catch the wind.
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| − | In the middle of a seemingly empty white plain and heavy barren forests, the town and estate managed to seem warm and even cheery. Chimneys puffed thick white smoke and child ran and laughed on narrow streets, while broad-chested hounds barked and dashed among them. A trickle of figures came and went from the town gate; hardened trappers and local traders bringing their goods to the only stop for Guild caravans for miles around.
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| − | And most were arriving just in time to witness the great silver ship come sailing through the ocean of clouds and drop itself with intent towards the little country estate bellow.
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> The Ship begun to vanish on the clouds again; Cael had his duties, his debt to pay with Orchid.
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| − | It was fair enough, she had saved the life of their Pale Angel, after all. She had helped them when they needed it.
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| − | As they all had.
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| − | Bleak as things seemed at times, now he swam in light - all those who try to help, all those who want to make things brighter. They were helping so much... even making him view the other two as less dark. Now, he saw all the good things about the Angels who saved him from certain death....
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| − | The Lover's angels. But nevertheless...
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| − | He waited for them to be called, looking resplendent under the sunlight, wings out and pure white once again, side by side with his newest allies. He trusted them too fast, he thought. He had trusted them... even the mysterious Alexsei... too fast. He did not know where Domiel was taking his little brother, he could have been a monster for all they knew... and yet, he was here. And he was right.
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| − | He trusted too easily.<br>
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| − | And was it not giving its rewards?
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| − | is hand lands on Anne's shoulder, making the girl blush on her dark blue dresses... he hoped she would enjoy here. It seemed like she would enjoy here... dressed as royalty as they had ever seen it. "Nicer than I imagined!" It was no play - Whiteshield had truly wondrous places, like the capital city itself, but despite the magic and first age glory on its cities, most of its land was like this - unassuming, yet charming.
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| − | <b>Domiel: </b> Domiel Winterwing, Chosen of the Sun and scion of the Winterwing family, stared out the third story window of his families ancestral home. Being there had changed him outwardly, regressed him back into an ancient. The clothes he wore were centuries old in style, carefully preserved hand-me-downs from a many times great grandfather. His long hair was oiled again, slicked back and secured with jeweled pins which had adorned the hair of the very first Winterwing. The tall Celestial sipped delicately at the almost syrup like wine in his glass, poured out of a bottle so ancient the label had turned to dust and watched with impassive gray eyes as the majestic silver vessel swooped into his front yard.
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| − | "Mmm" he sighed his only companion in the room, who sat crackling in the fireplace and stared at him with uncomprehending red eyes. "This cannot possibly be an omen of good things to come."
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| − | <b>Ryshassa:</b>Ryshassa gazes thoughtfully about her as she steps away from where the Zephyr had deposited them, bearing Cael away to his own personal business. Graceful in step, she moves to join Alexander and Anne, her kimono of twilight shades hardly rustling about her as she walks, the silken hems and sleeves resplendant with embroidery of morning glories blooming in artfully arranged clusters. Her fine black hair is bound in coiled braids balanced atop her head in a surprisingly compact crown, arranged to keep her long tresses out of the way for the healing duties that she is soon to perform.
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| − | "So this is the home of Domiel Winterwing," she murmurs, mostly to herself, as she pauses at Alexander's other side, carefully out of the reach of his impressive wingspan. Having grown up among the riches and excess of the Realm, and thereafter spent a decade of her life in a former First Age city carved into a mountain -- an ancient, exotic locale, even if lacking in scenery and natural light -- the surroundings are of course somewhat plain to her. Nonetheless, the sight is a comforting one to her soul, both for its simple beauty and the ability of its denizens to thrive here on the outskirts of Windia, one small but pivotal part of the cogweels of commerce in the region.
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| − | The healer nods in agreement at Alexander's sentiment about the rustic country town -- it did, indeed have a charm that larger, more elaborate cities could never quite reach with their ostentatious show of wealth. "I do hope we are not surprising your friend overly much by our arrival. Though I am sure he would not have expected to be keeping your brother for you indefinitely..." She lets her voice trail away, deep inside hoping that whatever affliction Prince Cedric is suffering is something within her capabilities to heal.
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| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> And yet again, his mind wanders.
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| − | Cael's airship already left, leaving a faint mark in the clouds where it disappeared, a single scar marring the otherwise unbroken perfection of the skies.
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| − | Many things happened at once. Since their arrival to the Theater, where they were to meet Cael and Alexander, things have gone by at an alarming rate - a pace which is impossibly different from the life he has led for the past decade. Work, some might have called it. Alexsei saw it as his mission, his set duty - to make sure Ryshassa was one day able to walk on her own two legs, shining with her own light upon the world. Now, she was thrust into the conflict of the North, and she was doing so of her own accord.
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| − | But thoughts swirled in his head, and sometimes he wondered how he could still stand without losing his footing. He glances at the others, his smile somewhat brightening his otherwise tired expression as he observes the Winterwing residence.
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| − | <i>Many things to ponder. And chief to them all... What is the connection that makes me fear you so, One Thousand Virtues? And, is it connected my own dreams - The sorrowful funeral, the Burning Manse... and... Swan Song? So may things to ponder... </i>
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| − | He forced the thoughts away, breathing deeply to focus back on present events. Many things were left to ponder, yes... But now is not the time.
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| − | <b>Domiel: </b> "Not at all." a cheery voice chimes in after Ryshassa. Standing in the doorway of his home, Domiel greets them a polite smile on his face, but a thin sword hastily buckled to his hip. The relief he feels that nearly turned his spine to jelly and his knees to dust shows no more in him than a hesitation at the door, hand propped on frame in a look of casual relaxation all that stood between him and a short tumble to the ground. Who most of them were was decidedly a mystery, but the young prince was among them and that was enough assurance.
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| − | "Well the surprise I must admit is complete." He continued, stepping out of the doorway as he found his strength again and approaching the healer. "But to be quite honest mademoiselle, I was expertly <i>infinitely</i> worse to come out of that great contraption than beauty and grace."
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| − | With a graceful motion he captured her hand and dipped to press the tip of her knuckles with his lips. "Domiel Winterwing, most humbly at your service" he offers her as he rises, then turns his head and gives Alex and rakish grin. "Wonderful to see that you still keep in excellent company, your highness."
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "Royalty needs a comitive. And even nobility... you know what it is like!" He smiles, seeing Domiel again. The Ashen Dove is safe... and his brother, certainly... "Domiel Winterwing, these are Alexsei and Ryshassa Krauser! And this here... is Anne Pattona, daughter-in-law of our ride, the Windwraith."
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| − | That was it for the formality, now, now... "And Cedric? Is he...?"
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| − | <i>Fine?</i><br>
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| − | <i>Awake? </i><br>
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| − | <i>Alive? </i><br>
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| − | He did not trust the windwraith's mood now... not before he looked so happy playing, and yet he know that his sister....
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| − | <b>Ryshassa:</b> Ryshassa laughs indulgently as Domiel very gallantly takes hold of her hand and brushes his lips against her knuckles. Though somewhat taken off guard herself that he had heard her last words, she recovers quickly and returns his greeting with a deep and elegant bow that hardly stirs a single hair on her crown of braids. When she straightens, a somewhat bemused smile graces her lips, though it quickly fades as she recalls the grave reason for her coming.
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| − | "Pleased to meet you, Domiel. As Prince Alexander kindly introduced, I am Ryshassa. I do hope you will allow us the luxury of entering your home on such... well... nonexistent notice. Perhaps then we shall speak in more detail of why we have arrived at your doorstep in such a fashion."
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| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> Domiel's friendly introduction helps him to focus back on reality. Smiling warmly at the Chosen's introduction, he executes a graceful bow before responding. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Winterwing. Especially after displaying how much good taste you possess." He shoots a quick glance at Ryshassa, trying hard not to grin. "I am Alexsei Krauser, at your service."
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| − | <b>Domiel: </b> The half-fae smiled and nods politely to each in turn as Alexander makes their introductions, moving only to take up Anne's hand as well and planting a delicate kiss upon. "Most charmed, young madam Pattona..."
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| − | <i>Ryshassa <b>and</b> Alexsei Krauser, was it?</i>
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| − | His attentiveness to the lady, a passing interest of politeness a moment ago, rose dramatically, a discreet examination of her passing through his mind. And of her husband as well. Domiel gives the other man as courteous a nod, the small motion enough to take his measure. They both seemed young yet. Doubtless deeply in love.
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| − | All the better. He enjoyed a challenge.
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| − | But business would have to come first, naturally. "Ah, I was expecting that question any time now." He nodded to the prince, a touch of graveness to his face. "Your brother is resting still. Miss Millia dotes upon him daily though and we see as best we can to his needs."
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| − | "But of course, your concerns would be best served if you see him yourself, yes? Besides, I make for a poor host and leave you all to linger in the cold." He extends his hand forward, directly towards Ryshassa for a moment, then suddenly dropped down to the young girl near Alex. He gives the healer a playful, passing smile before turning down to Anne.
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| − | "Mademoiselle, if you would do me the honor? The rest, please follow at hand and we shall go somewhere less inhospitable."
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| − | <b>Anne: </b> Her icy eyes go wide with the half-fae's features, a blush crossing her face.
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| − | She prayed her manners - or lack thereof - wouldn't show too much...
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| − | <i>Dress a village girl like a queen, makes no difference before the royalty, does it?</i>
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| − | So confident, this man. So like Cael, and yet... no, she was ignored because she always looked so wide-eyed. She would play the part now...
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| − | ... no matter how much she ended up humilliating herslef on the process!
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| − | "Pleased to meet you, Lord Winterwing. And of course I allow you the honor...." She says, following him...
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> <i>Millia...</i>
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| − | He held her on their last night together. She said how much she liked him, and he let her go... he protected her for a week, all dirty, the three of them... he would never forget Millia. And never thank her enough.
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| − | "That.... is great, Domiel." Tears begun going to his eyes as he begun to remember everything... at the joy of them being alive and well... at.... everything. Everything.
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| − | He made his best to smile. "How have things been around here? Safe, I hope?"
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| − | <b>Domiel: </b> "An honor indeed, mademoiselle Pattona, to grace my hand with such splendor. Doubtless my servants will think I lead the Queen of Emerald Rose's herself to the door today."
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| − | Anne's hand held delicately between his fingers, Domiel walked them leisurely up to his door. "Safe as could be expected, my young friend. The world is ever at danger. Here no less than others. Nothing undue to talk of, save perhaps my father departing for court in Winlandia to obtain better news of the events in your nation than my second-hand stuttering could provide. And to speak of your nation, how goes the glorious crusade of liberation?"
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| − | <b>Ryshassa:</b> Ryshassa shakes her head ruefully as Domiel turns his back, entering his estate along with Anne, lovely and bedecked as royalty in her own right in her dark blue gown. <i>Ah, so... <b>that</b> kind of man, I see. But we have precious little time to play such games, besides the fact I am perfectly content with whom I have.</i>
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| − | She rests her hand carefully on the crook of her husband's arm, smiling up at him. The smile hardly touches her eyes, though, as she both senses and observes how deeply in thought he is, the strain near visible on his face from the haste of recent events and the revelations he so recently revealed. "Come, beloved, you will escort me inside, I am sure." She keeps her voice light, though she squeezes his arm reassuringly, adding mentally, <i>I am sorry -- perhaps you should have allowed yourself some rest instead of accompanying me here... </i>
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "Well, the Celebrant of Blood is dead. As shows the damn scar on my face." He points to the fading line on his cheek. "You should have seen it! War machines greater than your house! We throwing great gallons of oil and fire on them, exploding the whole army of undead! I think you might have heard that the Pale Angel did so... well, she wasn't alone!"
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| − | <i>I would be breaking her secret if he didn't know she is a Deathknight and we are together anyway...</i>
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| − | <i>I wonder just how Valencia found it so fast!</i>
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| − | "And we prevailed! You should have seen it, Cael throwing golden kanji while standing in floating origami amidst the rising smoke... it was glorious."
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| − | "Even after the things hit me. Oh well... the scary pale lady did not even get a scratch!"
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| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> Offering his arm to his wife, Alexsei grants her a soft smile as they are lead into their host's house.
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| − | <i>It seems you have made quite an impression on Lord Winterwing, beloved. And no, I am fine. I am preoccupied, but we have things to do here and now, and besides I wanted to see for myself this affliction that touched the young Prince... And besides... perhaps this is not something you would be used to, but you accompanied me patiently so many times that I actually enjoy being the one accompanying you on your business, Belladonna.</i>
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| − | He smiels at her once more, brushing her hand softly before leading her into the Winterwing property.
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| − | <b>Anne: </b> Her lips move, nothing comes out.
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| − | They try again. Nothing comes out. She thinks again...<br>
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| − | Should she ask?<br>
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| − | Should she ask?<br>
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| − | Should she...?
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| − | <i>Oh, damn it!</i>
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| − | "You flatter me, lord Winterwind... but who is this Queen of Roses you speak of?"
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| − | One does not decide to be a savant by lacking curiosity.
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| − | <b>Domiel: </b> "We have had some news of a battle and of a force of undead being destroyed. That was you then?" his brows lift and he pauses to lean over and examine the princes battle scar. "Well then, congratulations are in order for your victory! We will have to celebrate once other affairs are settled. How... unfortunate that I was <i>not</i> there to see it in person." And how obviously relieved he was that he had. "It sounds a epic affair."
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "Oh, it was... every bit of <i>epic</i>! the sort of thing legends are made of!"
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| − | "If you had been there... I could so see Kitrain running through the flames with you! And... celebration! I like that. I still have to see more of you playing... it was... grand, that one time. Anne, Ryshy, Alexsei... you so have to see it!"
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| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> "Unfortunately," Ryshassa adds to Alexander's enthusiastic retelling of the triumph over the Celebrant, "my husband and I were not present during this glorious affair, either. We are only recently companions of the Prince, and in fact... I am here specifically to offer my services as healer, on the behalf of young Cedric."
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| − | As she mentions the last, her left hand edges minutely forward -- holding aloft, in its grasp, her great golden staff, the Caduceus, its shaft entwined with two circling serpents and crowned with two outstretched wings, between which rests an egg-shaped, flawlessly cut tsavorite gem.
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| − | <b>Domiel: </b> "Queen of <i>Emerald</i> Roses, my lady." Domiel corrects Anne as they reach the door and step into the warm interior. A pair of young servant boys, looking a touch uncomfortable in their rustic finery, await on hand to takes coats and hats or shawls. "The leader, or as close as they come to one, of the Summer Circle, my families long ally in this harsh landscape. A Fair Folk queen of unmatched wit and unearthly beauty."
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| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> "Indeed, me and Ryshassa have missed the battle the young prince has mentionned. A glorious victory on their side, that is for sure... We only joined them recently, in order to help with what matters we can."
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| − | <i>And unfortunately a part of the help I can give is by having someone turn up dead, so I do prefer that part to be kept to a minimum.</i>
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| − | He follows their host along, wondering idly what sorcery could have cast the young Holysword to sleep as such.
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| − | <b>Millia Gust: </b> "<b>Your Highness! </b> "
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| − | The cry comes from within, and soon the form of the maid is over Alexander, glomping him, almost sending him to the ground... almost. She clings to him, tears trickling in her eyes... "You came back!!!"
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| − | "You are alive... you are well... you are... here...."
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| − | <b>Domiel: </b> "A healer, is it?" Domiel muses, casting a glance over the staff she held forth, then again at the lady who held it. "Doubtless you are skilled to have earned a place in the good prince's entourage. It will be an honor to play for you and yours, once your work here is done."
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| − | "Mignot?" he calls with a snap of his fingers, addressing one of the young servants. "Please escort mademoiselle Krauser and his highness to prince Cedric and see to it you provide them with all they may ask for. If we do not have it here, come to me at once and I will arrange to rectify the situation."
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| − | <b>Anne: </b> "<i>Fair Folk?!?</i>"
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| − | Domiel sees the instinctive gesture - to try and touch an iron pendant on her neck. All village girls knew what the fair folk are. Those that make all those who go out vanish... anywhere on the world, from the country to the outskirts of any city, even more so on the north...
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| − | "You have the fair folk as your <i>allies</i>?!?"
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| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> As they step into the interior of the estate, Ryshassa smoothly removes her deep violet, quilted outer-robe, passing it on graciously to one of the waiting servants, expressing her thanks with a smile and a nod. She does not, however, relinquish her staff to them, instead keeping it grasped in her left hand, the shaft resting easily upon her shoulder as if light as a feather's touch.
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| − | Walking along further into the halls and chambers of the Winterwing estate, Ryshassa takes the time to answer her husband in thought. <i>I am relieved then, beloved, if you are feeling all right. Still, you should not have felt the need to repay me for those times. I came by my own volition, even if so many times, I could do very little of import to aid you.</i>
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| − | She pauses, then, as Domiel mentions her name to the servant, Mignot. <i>I suppose I will be leaving you, for a time. I will keep in touch, of course. I am sure Domiel will be... interesting company, given how he reacted to your presence...</i>
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| − | With one last squeeze of Alexsei's arm, she steps aside and awaits to be escorted to Cedric's room.
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| − | <b>Anne: </b> She sees Millia, and smiles. That was... a wonderful thing to see.
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| − | And Millia seemed so much closer to herself than most all those there...
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| − | She could so see herself doing so for Cael... no... that is exactly what she did after the battle, wasn't it...?
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| − | <b>Domiel:</b> "You sound so surprised." Domiel chuckled to Anne, then lifted his palms in a indifferent gesture. "We make allies where we can. The world is far too cold and lonesome to traverse without them. For certain my cousins do much to keep your lands safe and our people contented. Not all who are fae are monsters, after all."
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| − | <b>Alexander: </b> The prince responds in kind. Holding the girl to him, twisting both around, a flurry of feathers flying around them that instant.... saying her name, again and again, whispering to her, letting the tears come out that she was safe and well. So safe, so well...
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| − | Basking in light and hope.
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| − | <b>Anne: </b> "They are... not monsters?"
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| − | The pendant was not there, of course. She thought herself safe...
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| − | <i>Dummy! A savant has to always be ready, always with her talismans, wards, charms...!</i>
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| − | "Are you... sure, Lord Winterwind? I... have never heard of good Fae. They eat people's souls..."
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| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> Meanwhile, though, Ryshassa allows herself a ghost of a smile. She had no clue Alexander had so many friends living here in this estate. It was a good thing, surely, for him to be able to let go of some of the weight of recent events and genuinely enjoy the company of others.
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| − | Taking advantage of the wait, she sidles close to her husband once more and, rising on her tiptoes, brushes her lips gently against his. <i>My love. I wonder when next we will have the opportunity to truly relax with each other...</i>
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| − | <b>Domiel: </b> The half-breed glanced at Millia and Alex and smiled at the joy there. It was a pleasure to see it come so strongly from Millia. For too long now the girl had been morose, until at least she found purpose in tending to Cedric. Now she smiled again and the gushing waves of happiness warmed the room more than and flame. So sweet and fragrant... his eyes closed for a moment and breathed in deeply, drawing in the soft sugary taste of their happiness through the air. It sent a pleasured flush to his cheeks.
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| − | High on the taste of their emotions, Domiel's eyes shimmered as he opened them to regard Anne again. "Would you think <i>me</i> capable of such an act, mademoiselle Pattona?"
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| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> <i>Ah, Ryshassa. You believe I am repaying you for the times you have accompanied me? As you followed of your own volition, dear belladonna, so do I, here . Please, go on about your business. I will be safe with Lord Winterwing here.</i> He meets her kiss, smiling gently at her. <i>Soon enough, beloved. Please, do not worry about me. I will be waiting for you here, as always. </i>
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| − | Hope and satisfaction fill him at the view of the Prince and his friend, obviously extremely happy to see each other, locked into a moment of happiness amidst all the pain and despair of the recent days...
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| − | Smiling at their gracious host, Alexsei takes a moment to readjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Indeed, allies are something to treasure deeply, lord Winterwing. The Prince told us of how you helped him and his family during the siege of Whiteshield... As such, I believe you are to be commended, sir. The war has brought such distraught that allies are a precious resssource, one that cannot be taken fro granted." He pauses, considering the allusions to the Fair Folk and the role they were playing in the chaos that was slowly but surely envelopping the North. <i>If they help the Prince, then we have to accept it. We cannot brush away potential alliances becasue of prejudices... Not in matters of such importance...</i>
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| − | <b>Anne: </b> Anne lets go of his hand... does not go far, but she does let go of his hand, "L-lord Pattona... that is a terrible joke... of course you are not one of them!"
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| − | But she doubted her own words. His face... too perfect... like a dream... almost... alien.
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| − | But yet, he was so... nice!
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| − | <b>Domiel: </b> Domiel waved Alexsei's compliment away with feigned modesty, though his posture rises upward with pride. "My part was small, master Krauser. I merely stood in the proper place at the proper time to be of some minor use. In that, I am only grateful to be playing some <i>smal</i>l part in this drama. Doubtless you have already rendered unto the prince services that will dim mine to shadow in the annals of these great times."
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| − | <b>Alexsei:</b> Alexsei chuckles softly, crossing his arms behind his back. "Oh, you give me far more credit than I am due, my lord. I am merely a scholar and a funeral priest, and I serve the interests of the North the best I can... Though there are some events I would have liked to be able to prevent, or at the very least help with more, that is for sure... "
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Domiel: </b> The girls reaction is disappointing, yet far from unexpected. This is how the matter always goes at first. A sad truth that most of his cousins were worthy of such reaction"I beg your pardon for a moment." he tells Alexsei, tipping his head politely to disengage.
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| − | | |
| − | The half-fae musician lowered into an easy balance on his haunches to look Anne in the eye. He smiled to her, warm and kind, and breathed a slow, reassuring breath. "My dear Anne. I am quite and thoroughly 'one of them.' At least in soul if not in measure. But simply because one man in a city is a monster does not make all his neighbors the same, does it?"
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| − | | |
| − | Slowly, seeking not to frighten the girl, he lifted his hand out between them, his palm held out like an offering. Wyld-tainted essence, the very life's blood of his being, swirled into existence on his palm. Colored light, a rainbow hue of beauty excited to rampant chaos, swirled above his palm. "My cousins are much the same. They are not all of one mind nor of one being. Different from you as they are, they are much the same as well. Each lives his or her own dream. Some are sadly takers of life, but others others my dear"
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| − | | |
| − | The light began to refine itself, taking on shape and form until two figures danced together, a fae and mortal woman balancing delicately on his finger tips. They stare at each others like lovers lost in a trance, smiling in unbound cheer. "Others are the bringers of passion and the makers of dreams. Others are lovers of life in all it's forms."
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| − | | |
| − | He tipped his head and looked across the dancers at her. "You would not judge one man by the actions of another. Do they deserve any less consideration?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexsei: </b> He stares at Domiel's display of power, and is curious to see what Anne will think of his reasoning. He, for his part, feels a strong kinship to the man's words, provided that he often finds himself on different grounds than the other Chosen of Fate...
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| − | | |
| − | "You are right, Lord Winterwing... Every man and woman has the right to be judged by their actions and not their lineage or association with certain groups of people. Intentions and actions are the only true measures of a given individual. In that, I completely agree with you."
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| − | | |
| − | He nods at the Chosen, his violet eyes flaing slightly as his lips break into a smile.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> Ryshassa's gaze flickers but a moment, a shadow of regret dimming the affection in her violet eyes. <i>Soon...?</i>
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| − | | |
| − | She steps back, hesitantly, but does not stray far from her husband quite yet. Instead, she stalls, absentmindedly smoothing down the folds of his robes, her fingertrips drifting upward to trace his cheek a moment, dancing briefly across the lips she just recently kissed. "I do wish it was so, beloved, but we are already so deeply entangled into this war that even our time alone will be fraught with worry. As it should be, for we cannot take these events lightly, knowing what we know."
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| − | | |
| − | The healer turns her attention, now, to the others in the room, and in particular to Domiel's short but poignant lecture to Anne. "You do, indeed, have a point, lord Winterwing... Stereotypes exist for a reason, truly, but one must always be on the lookout for the exceptions... I myself was one such exception, for a quite different reason, among members of my House in the Realm."
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| − | | |
| − | A moment of hesitation, gazing upon the figures dancing upon Domiel's palm, before Ryshassa clears her throat and speaks again. "I apologize for the interruption, of course, but shall I take my leave now to attend to Prince Cedric? If I must, I will go alone... your reunion is a joyful occasion not to taken for granted, after all."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Anne: </b> She takes his hand again. Even with the Wyld essence around it.
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| − | | |
| − | Alexander trusted him... and this should be enough. Cael could protect her. And... that smile....
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| − | | |
| − | She could not dispute his words. She decided to do like Alexander, and trust....
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| − | | |
| − | After all, that place did not seem like the lair of monsters... much on the contrary...
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| − | | |
| − | "You are right, lord Wintrerwind. I will judge you only on your actions, and yours alone! Right?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander: </b> Teary-eyed, Alexander comes back to them... after whispering and holding Millia so much....
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| − | | |
| − | After such a meeting. He nods to Ryshassa, trying to clean his tears on his sleeve... "So... shall we go and see if you can do anything for my little brother?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Domiel: </b> The half-faes fingers close around Anne's and his smile grows fonder. Without a glance away from her, he gestures Ryshassa towards the broad staircase across the main hall. "Of course, mademoiselle healer. Apologies must be made for keeping you so long. I am certain Millia would be more than pleased to go with you. She, more than anyone, has been caring for your brother in this time."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Millia Gust: </b> "O-of course!"
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| − | | |
| − | She nods, going and taking Ryshassa's hand... looking up at her, hoping she can do so... wondering where Alexander met such a great healer that could cure what everyone on Domiel's lands could not... "Come with me, he is just upstairs!" She says, drying her own tears, her face all rosy, and yet, still pretty.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa:</b> Ryshassa nods shortly to Alexander, coaxing her features to relax into a reassuring smile. "Yes, let us, if you are up to it. I am happy for you, that you were able to reunite with... lady Millia? again, if even a little bit."
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| − | | |
| − | At Domiel's direction, she glances towards the indicated staircase, and then to Millia herself, bowing her head slightly to the other woman. She smiles as Millia very unabashedly reaches out and takes her hand to guide her upstairs, not at all perturbed by the gesture.
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| − | | |
| − | "Yes, please, lady Millia, if you would guide me there, I would be grateful. I understand that you have been caring expertly for the Prince all this time, so your input may very well be useful for my diagnosis. Let us go, then," she finishes, nodding to both her and Alexander, and casting a last, lingering glance towards her husband before following Millia upstairs.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Millia Gust: </b> "Yes. Millia Gust. And you, great lady, are...?" She takes the healer upstairs, to the room housing the little prince... not very regal, but... cute! Certainly the room for the younglings of the family, with several beds with the heavy sheets one would expect of the northern winter... even though only one is being used. The walls are filled with colorful, bright tapestries, showing great, if more exciting and harmless, beasts, and great noble warriors shining with elemental power and great wings... and of course, a fireplace, with a gate to keep the children's hands off.
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| − | | |
| − | On it, rests an elk... an elk that blazes like fire, as if made of it, resting on the fireplace. He is... beautiful. Pehaps the most magnificent animal Ryshassa has ever laid her eyes on, on the North and the Dynasty likewise... blazing with fire, but yet, perfected with the aesthetics of dream... for a moment, It looks at Ryshassa, then returns to its rest there, as Millia walks to the Prince, caressing his little shining silver locks. "Here he is... Cedric, relax... we have someone here to see you. She may be able to wake you up... wouldn't that be great...?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> "Oh, I apologize deeply -- I thought you had already caught my name." A blush rises upon the healer's cheeks, brief but plain to see upon cheeks so creamy pale. "I am Ryshassa Krauser, a healer recently from Gethamane, my lady. I dearly hope I will be able to help here, today."
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| − | | |
| − | She pauses a moment to regain her bearings as she enters the new room, which -- judging from its adorable, whimsical decor -- was made for the children in the household, if there indeed were any present besides Cedric himself. She blinks in mild surprise at the presence of the majestic elk of flame perched in the fireplace; struck by its beauty, she takes the time to bow reverently to the creature before moving on towards the child prince's bed. She sinks to her knees beside Millia at Cedric's bedside, at the same time releasing the Caduceus so that it hovers placidly close by her shoulder. She would need its wisdom now, if she was to have any hope of determining what he is afflicted with.
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| − | | |
| − | "Thank you, Millia, for bringing me here." Her smile is tinged with sorrow as she gazes down at the child -- he is younger than she had imagined, too young to be trapped in eternal sleep. "I apologize ahead of time for the barrage of questions I am about to burden you with. But before I begin my diagnosis, may I ask --" she turns her head to acknowledge Alex, as well "-- any details you can tell me about the creature he was assaulted by, that led to this condition?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Alexander: </b> "He walks towards his brother, taking a seat close to the bed, watching him sleeping... so peacefully. And not the sickly, maltrinioned him the boy had been while they ran, without food, without life... they had taken good care of him. He seemed to be just... sleeping.
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| − | | |
| − | The older prince could not help but to smile.
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| − | | |
| − | A smile that fades as soon as he remembers that dreadful night...."It was.... well, they were ghosts. Unlike any I have ever seen, they were not... quite human. they had those tendrils coming out of their hands... into his chest, into his forehead... they were holding him when me and Fiona came in, Millia was... in shock. It was like they were trying to search inside his soul..."
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| − | | |
| − | <i>It is like they had raped it.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | "Fiona killed them, while they still held Cedric on their arms... he has not woken up since."
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> She nods slowly at this bit of information. <i>I see. This is an affliction far beyond the physical, then. Do I even have what it takes to cure this? But I must -- the Prince himself is here, watching me, depending on me. I must.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | Out loud, she grimly continues her systematic questioning, this time addressing Millia specifically. "If you would, my lady, can you give me an idea of young Cedric's status since you have begun caring for him? Any unusual behavior, besides of course his inability to wake? Does he respond to any stimulus, or even move at all?"
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| − | | |
| − | As she continues to ask such questions about the state of Cedric's health and how Millia has cared for him this far, Ryshassa allows her gentle fingers to tentatively brush his skin, gauging for a reaction before she begins to examine him in earnest, pouring every ounce of her expertise and the Caduceus's knowledge into diagnosing the child's mysterious coma, and what she may do to relieve him of it. It was one thing to transfer the aches and pains of the body, to experience such bittersweet agony as her own, but to draw onto herself an affliction of the soul?
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| − | | |
| − | It would be dangerous--for certain. But she was better equipped, as a Chosen, to handle it than this innocent child.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Millia Gust: </b> "He... mumbles sometimes. I can never make out words.... he sometimes whispers things. But that... is all, really. We see no real reaction from him..."
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| − | | |
| − | She looks down, remembering moments she shook him in despair, pleading for him to wake up... so she would not fail so bad.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Cedric:</b> His body is working fine... but his responses are all dulled. And through her empathy, Ryshassa can feel... she can feel the shards of the boy's soul even through the skin, even without any magic, feel it crying out, feel the hurt...
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa:</b> Ryshassa shudders at what she senses with such undeniable certainty -- the torment of the boy's soul, underneath the visage of peaceful sleep. Tears flow freely from her eyes as her heart cries out in sympathy for such raw and helpless pain, one that she cannot hope to soothe with mortal feats of medicine -- or any technique she has since become accustomed to performing. No. She needs something more than this, something more than mere speculation, something beyond what her physical senses -- even augmented by Essence -- can reach.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>Cedric,</i> her heart cries out, her throat giving voice to nothing but a single, strangled cry, as she summons to herself the knowledge and the willpower to seek out the source of his pain and eliminate it.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>I will not leave until I have summoned this child from the yoke of eternal suffering.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | The healer rises to her feet abruptly, her blazing violet eyes glazed as if caught in a trance. Her left arm sweeps outward, then slowly inward, drawing the Caduceus directly in front of her. Floating between her hands, the golden staff of knowledge and healing shivers as if alive, the entwined serpents slithering tighter around the shaft, the heads rearing, writhing, but somehow... controlled even in their excitement, the fangs never bared, the eyes fiercely emitting rays of golden light. Above their heads the wings crowning the staff fold over the pulsing Hearthstone between them, then suddenly snap back and stretch to the limits of their wingspan, the feathers spreading outward like dual fans.
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| − | | |
| − | They <b>glow</b>, Ryshassa and her writhing staff, a warm, pulsing light following the rhythm of her accelerated heartbeat, as she wrenches from the Caduceus's far reaches of memory the knowledge she requires to achieve what could very well be a miracle.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>Reveal to me how I may save this child--I who was once your mistress in centuries past! </i>
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Cedric:</b> She reaches within... and finds a shattered mind. A mind that took a blow unlike any Ryshassa has ever seen before - she can feel where the tendrils went in, searching, breaking, raping the little boy's soul to try and find... something?
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| − | | |
| − | She can feel the question, still within, what they sought. But not what it is, exactly... but she knows where the boy's psyche tried to put up a resistance, cried in denial, cried his family's names... and decided to break instead of bending. Where it was hurt, and where there are still some of the tendrils - its owners destroyed while within him, he still has some of their unholy nature within....
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Ryshassa: </b> The outside world is beyond her now. Only herself, and the child with the shining silver curls, and the ugliness coiled inside him, still preying on his rent, broken soul, remnants of an interrogation so overwhelmingly terrifying that the only way the child could protect the precious knowledge was to coerce himself to break.
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| − | | |
| − | Such a horrifying sacrifice for one so young. Tragedy as it was, Alexander's lineage bred loyalty beyond compare.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>A sacrifice I cannot let go to waste.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | She falls to her knees again at Cedric's bedside, the Caduceus once again motionless save for the gentle rhythm of its levitation upon the air. Still, its pulsating glow is all but faded, augmenting her own hard-won skill with images of feats of soul-healing heretofore unknown to her. It hovers at her shoulder as she presses her hands gently against the slumbering child's chest, reaching beyond the rising and falling of his breath, reaching beyond the limits of his body, plunging into the very core of his being with her mind's eye to guide her.
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| − | | |
| − | She grasps at the angry, dark tendrils still stubbornly lashed to his soul. But she does not pull, fearing that the shock of it may damage him further, or break him completely. Instead -- she entices the tendrils to taste of her own soul, much more vital and brimming with knowledge, presenting herself as a spiritual delight beyond compare. She strives, as she coaxes the unholiness to accept her as its host, to understand the true nature of Cedric's suffering, to embrace and experience his affliction and make it her own. Her eyes roll back, half in ecstasy, half in exquisite pain: for this is the purpose she was born for, to take upon herself the suffering of those who cannot bear it themselves.
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| − | | |
| − | Here, now, she experiences the very crux of her existence, the pure, peerless joy of self-sacrifice -- and even in the pinnacle of agony, her soul sings.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Cedric:</b> And it comes to her. It comes to her, screaming.
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| − | | |
| − | She fieels her soul go to Cedric's, parts of her self becoming his' to bridge the gaps between the broken parts of his soul. She can feel them as one on a single moment where she gives to him... and takes all his wounds in kind, taking all the leftover pieces of the ghost, feeling the strands growing within herself.... and breaking them to pieces. And all in all, she hears the question,
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| − | | |
| − | Where is the Golden Vault?
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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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