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Revision as of 00:05, 10 August 2006

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End of Warmth

Vorpal: Got anything of value on you? Vorpal thinks as she leans over the still form of the General, her male counterpart, the leader of the opposing force, the Dusk Caste like herself. She no longer needs to wince at the act of crouching down. The Charms she has employed dull the pain and allow her move with greater ease. The other Charms have been used to speed up her healing, to make certain she will be back in her fighting trim in short order.

Her hands examine every nook and niche of the Abyssal corpse, methodically searching for any items that could be useful to her in the future - Hearthstones, soulsteel, artifacts. Anything will do.

Scavenging might be considered an dishonorable act. By the customs of some finer, better and more civilized lands, the corpse of the worthy foe is a thing to be respected and left alone. It is to be buried with the proper rites that will placate the vengeful spirit of the departed and honor his memory. Of course, such things are generally forgotten on the battlefield - in a place where there are too many corpses to be buried, a mercenary is entitled to whatever loot she manages to gather before the fire eats the rest.

Not to mention that the people of these honorable, civilized lands have absolutely no qualms about thrusting a dagger into each others' backs should they think it will gain them something. If that's how much honor they can give to their fellow men, why spare any to the corpses? It's a bit too late for them to appreciate the gesture in any case.

Vorpal pauses with her search long enough to raise her gaze, to stare absently at the twisted face of the General for a moment. Well, his Po didn't appreciate it. Had to kill the bastard twice before he finally went quiet.

Troublesome, aren't we Abyssals? The Celebrant, the Hierophant, the General and myself. All giving other people trouble even after our deaths.

Selina de Windia: Her sister had stablized, but it didn't seem as if much progress was being made. They would have to wait for the healer to revive her. And Selina could not stand there waiting by her any longer. So...she had to find someone to talk to, to get her mind off of that.

Not Valencia.

She'd spotted the woman here and there, dealing with the aftermath of the battle, but there was no way Selina wanted to confront her, even for casual reasons. But she knew of another she could talk to, and they had even made up somewhat.

Mostly.

So, she searches for her. It doesn't take long -- Vorpal is not with Valencia, not with most others. She would not be with the troops, they are not really 'her' troops, though she does command them.

She is on the battlefield.

And that is where Selina finds her. She walks onto the scarred, scorched place, with the trough cut into the earth from her blast, the burns on the naked ground from the General's last moments, and his furious attacks. The splashes of dried blood where people died. An unpleasant, sombre sight to behold, to be sure. But not unknown to Selina.

You've wreaked as bad as this, not on this scale, but as bad.

And not in the name of war.

She banishes the memories of blood splattered abattoirs as she approaches the other deathknight, open greatcoat fluttering a bit in the wind. Her manner is not quite as sure as usual, anxiety and the need to escape from it for a time hinted very strongly. "Hey..."

Narrator: Not simply scorches. The Bones still stand, taller than them, the bones of Whiro and the whales, littering the ground... the bones of the Hand-Snakes after their flesh was burnt away, leaving broken bone and metal behind... and a few of the corpse-flowers, growing again, Blight Lily's original flowers taking root already....

Over the women, a few droplets begin to fall. The second rain of this day, coming together with gusts of bone-chilling cold...

Vorpal: She never looks up from her task. The broad cloak and the voluminous skirts of her battle dress turn her full figure into a shapeless glob of blackness - a ruffled-up raiton crouching atop the dark form of the General.

"What?" she asks over the rising murmur of rain.

Selina de Windia: "Whatcha doing?" She asks softly, walking up to the other Abyssal. "I didn't think you did this kind of thing."

Vorpal: "No shit?" The Ghost-Blooded quips and takes a hopping step backwards, like a clumsy bird moving to peck at the other parts of the carcass. "You were a whore before you struck jade in the killing business. How do you think I lived after Angel's End? I didn't get my money from the Lover. I didn't whore with her."

Selina de Windia: Selina doesn't say anything for awhile, taken aback by the Pale Angel's attitude. Part of her whispers You could make her regret those words so easily right now, but she isn't so much angry as stung. Her voice continues to be fairly soft, benign. "You sold people's artifacts after you killed them?"

And that little voice in her speaks again.

vulture

carrion bird

not an Angel

Vorpal: "Artifacts? Ha! " The laugh she barks out is short and bitter... Awfully remniscient of a croak of an ugly avian. "Artifacts don't sell well in the lower markets, girl. Too rare, too much money, too many questions." Even as she speaks, her blood-stained fingers curl around the metal gauntlet that had given them so much trouble during the battle. The scavenger gives it an experimental yank.

"No, the money was in the gold trinkets, brooches, jewelry. Talismans, amulets, jade chips. That's where mercenaries carry their wealth. Light, small and easily hidden. Thieves can't steal what they don't notice."

Vorpal isn't looking for money on the moment, of course. She does seek artifacts and Hearthstones, but not for sale. Not that she feels like telling about this to the pampered little lady. "So, did you have your fill of everyone's attention already? You'd better bask in the glory while you can. Before our sins settle in and turn this whole field into another Shadowland."

Selina de Windia: "You can dump them...if you know the right people." Selina says with a shrug, then frowns. "My 'sins' already did. I'll expurge them later. Somewhere else."

"And I didn't want attention, either." Selina says, sounding a bit hurt that it'd be said as if she wanted to go and make that moment into a popularity contest.

"They weren't just cheering me. They were cheering everyone." Selina adds, remembering the moment. How she'd felt embarassed, suddenly, wanting to pull away from the victorious army.

Wanted to hide somewhere where no one could see her.

They had seen her unmentionables!

"Including you."

Vorpal: "Don't think I don't know that", Vorpal snaps back, suddenly raising her hooded head. Blood stains her chin and lips - the only parts of her face besides her nose that are visible from under the black velvet. Her red eyes are hot and feverish in the shelter of shadows, spelling a terrible contrast against the chilly rain drumming the blasted ground around them. "We saved their worthless hides! Of course they cheered us all! But they won't love us for long. Gratitude doesn't last."

Slowly, as she speaks, Vorpal straightens up from the General's carcass. "It will become fear, envy, hatred. It always does."

"And I plan to be ready for the day when that happens. I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Selina de Windia: "Uh huh. Right." Selina replies dryly. "As if that's preordained. I recall you saying something about not abandoning hope, or some such thing."

Vorpal: "I'm not", the Pale Angel responds without hesitation, her gaze awfully even, her voice chilly and purposeful. "I will never abandon the hope that I will live on, whatever happens. I have some things to do with my life."

"Now, are you going to help me with this or not?" Her eyes never leaving her dark counterparty, she makes a sweeping gesture with her hand at the corpses of the other Exalts, the nemissaries and Dragon-Blooded they had felled during the battle. "We need every resource we can get out hands on. That means artifacts, hearthstones, whatever we can find and make use of."

Selina de Windia: "Um, sure..." Selina replies slowly, looking about the battlefield as Vorpal indicates it. Far too much for one person, or two, to strip and cart off in any reasonable amount of time. She could do some, but it would best serve her as something to take her mind off of her sister's lingering near death state. For awhile. "Only for awhile though...if something happens to her, I should be there." She looks back to Vorpal. "And really, there are people who'll do this once everything gets in order. You don't have to. It'll probably go quicker then us doing this alone."

Vorpal: At any other situation, Vorpal perhaps might have raised an eyebrow at the mention of 'her'. Right now, however, she is far too cold to really care. "...and they'll cart all of it over to Valencia, who oh-so-accidentally misplaces the more dangerous trinkets before showing the rest to us." Vorpal shakes her head, bitterly, raindrops sliding along the outer side of the velvet hood. Turning back down to examine the General's boots, she adds: "Just search the Exalts. They have the best equipment."

Selina de Windia: "She wouldn't do that..." Selina sighs. "Unless it was really dangerous. But you know what? I'd do the same thing."

Looking around, she sees what appears to be left of a ghost: just the armor and sword.

Did I get this one, or did someone else?

Selina honestly cannot recall. Some parts of the battle seem jumbled, at least upon first rememberance. No matter. She walks the few paces to get to it, and stoops down to pick them up. Her tone becomes curious, still mild. "What's with you anyways? Did He spit in your eye for this, worse than did to me or something?"

Vorpal: That makes Vorpal stop.

Her hands resting lightly atop the General's left boot, she stares at globs of dirt clinging to its tip, bits of earth slowly being turned into mud by the rain.

What is wrong with me anyway?

"Are you blind or stupid?" Vorpal growls and, abruptly, violently, yanks the boot free. "I spent most of that battle protecting you all and drawing in their blows, and what did I get in return? A bit of cheering, my horse getting cut down from under me, the little Solar nurse running off to snuggle with her star-struck hubby and seeing if she could kiss some soldiers all the better. Which is just fine!" She underlines that last sentence with a threatening thrust with the boot -- never mind the fact that even if the Solar girl had stopped to see if Vorpal herself was all right, the Ghost-Blooded would probably have just barked her up into the tree.

"I don't need any of it." This she says with a softer tone, the boot falling down to her side in a weary and limp hand.

Selina de Windia: Selina raises an eyebrow at the other woman, in something of disbelief. She'd never wanted recognition before, well, not like that anyway. It strikes her as utterly bizarre.

Or maybe, she's just worn out.

"Mucking around in this," Selina indicates the battlefield and the sky with a handwave. "Isn't going to help much. What do you want then?"

Vorpal: Fatigued or not, the Pale Angel still manages to stir up some new flame within her.

"To be left alone!" she snaps, exasperated. "I'm surprised you haven't said 'get over it!' or something equally Pale Angel-ish already. Well, I'm getting over it!" She pauses to take a quick peek inside the boot, then turns it upside-down and shakes to see if anything would fall out. "I just don't do it in an eyeblink. Just leave me alone and let me calm down, will you?"

And, with that, she tosses the boot over her right shoulder. Either she uses more force for the task than absolutely necessary, or Abyssal footwear makes for a good missile. It spins through the air one end over the other with surprising grace before finally flopping down to the ground quite a respectable distance away.

Selina de Windia: "Most everyone else is busy, except Valencia, and the only thing to do besides talk to one of you is to sit by my sister's bedside as she hovers near death. And I did that for awhile and couldn't take it anymore." Selina says with some heatedness. "And I am not going to chat up Valencia."

Vorpal: Despite her fixation on her own personal problems, Vorpal does pay attention to the little word slipping past Selina's lips this time.

"Your who?" she asks, leaning forward with raised eyebrows.

Selina de Windia: Selina pauses for a moment, sighing to herself. Well, one more person would know. Or figure out, or whatever. In the long term, it could not be helped.

But there could have been a better time for it with her.

"My sister." Selina repeats, much of the heatedness gone from her voice. "Red skinned girl in the tacky coat?"

Vorpal: It makes sense, Vorpal supposes, blinking wearily. She has always felt some sort of tension between those two, but she hadn't even suspected --

"Oh, grand", she shakes her head. "Absolutely grand. I'm certain there's a very terrible story behind why you have a red-skinned demon-blooded for a sister, but you could have told me about it a bit sooner."

Selina de Windia: "I have no idea how or why she's got all that demon-taint in her." Selina states a bit defensively. And even if she did, that at least, was not her fault. Not in the least. "It's not as if I knew until a few days ago."

"....why is that so dismaying anyway?" Selina asks curiously. "Did you have a personality clash with her or something?"

Vorpal: "No, no, it just explains many things", Vorpal grunts and turns back to the General's corpse. "In case you haven't yet noticed, she complains about every other word I say. I should have figured from that alone that she is related to you. Do you still feel for her?"

Selina de Windia: "She complains about alot." Selina clarifies with some amusement. "By that yardstick, you should be my mother or something."

Then her voice softens a bit. "But...yeah, I do. She's my sister, even if she's being ordered by some bunch of wankers to watch and possibly kill me. I hope she comes out of that ok..."

Vorpal: "You do, ah?" Finally deciding that there is little else to scavenge from the Abyssal corpse, the Pale Angle straightens herself up and staggers backwards. Leaning her head back, she allows her hood to slide down and rain to wash her frowning and sweaty face. "Then do all three of us a favor and go watch her soon, all right?"

Selina de Windia: "Oh, I will." Selina replies, fidgeting. "And I just was. But I couldn't take sitting there...waiting. Had to get out for awhile."

Vorpal: Vorpal closes her eyes at that.

And of all the people...

"So you came to me?"

Selina de Windia: "....yes." Selina replies a bit sheepishly, then becomes somewhat defensive. "Why? Is that supposed to be silly or something?"

Vorpal: "No", she shrugs, her eyes still closed, her frowning mien melting into a weary one. Raindrops trickle down her cheeks and forehead, flowing around rise of her nose and lips, washing away the blood. "Just irritating. This really isn't the best of times."

The frown returns, and the Pale Angel shakes her entire upper body in an exasperated manner, the way Ice sometimes shakes her shining black coat from side to side. "Hrunh, the things you make me go through."

Her mien still sour, Vorpal strides boldly forward and moves directly up to the Dark Angel. Without another word she wraps her arms firmly around the other woman and yanks her close. Armor-covered body presses tightly - yet surprisingly gently, considering the Pale Angel's mood - against the leotard-clad one.

Selina de Windia: Someone hugging her? Hugging? How long has it been since anyone did that? Selina blushes furiously at that, not so much at that close contact as at the gesture itself, then slowly returns it. "Thanks... Sorry if it irritates you..."

She would never live it down if the damned Sidereal was watching.

Vorpal: "Shut up already", Vorpal mutters into Selina's ear, her voice almost pleading. She presses her cheek against the other woman's, briefly wondering if the Dark Angel would be going to start leaning against her shoulder soon, almost hoping she would do so. "Shut up. I'm tired..."

She does not, however, make a move to withdraw her embrace. Instead, she chooses to stand firm, offering her own being as a pillar against which Selina can stand... and perhaps, just a little bit, using the Dark Angel as a pillar for herself. An elegant half-arch, after all, is just a pile of rubble without the support offered by its mirror image and counterpart.

Selina de Windia: Slowly, Selina's wings relax behind her, not perking up as much anymore, drooping down to a position that shows less stress. And she hugs Vorpal back, as well, eventually leaning her head against the shorter woman's shoulder, just a bit.

It has been far too long since anyone hugged her. Years. Decades.

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