Difference between revisions of "GoldenCat/BlueWind"

Revision as of 01:03, 13 August 2005

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Blue Wind

They emerge into the light, and into the snow, falling lightly as it is from the heavens and giving the city a light blanket of white. No heavy snowfalls today, odd how mild it's been lately. Valencia however, does not speak a single word of concern for this, instead humming a little ditty to herself, absorbed in her own thoughts as she walks with Vorpal, down a wide, railed path from the opening in the mountain, not far from the main mountain of the city upon which the castle sits, part of the city in between. Wards along the mountain side at shoulder level keep the path free of ice and snow, though just barely given how they are spaced. They don't have the look of First Age wards either, not sophisticated enough for that, and probably not as potent.

Valencia stops her humming, seeing someone in the distance. It is not far to the city, perhaps a matter of fifty meters or so. "Well," She begins to herself, marking the Windian as he approaches. "I wonder if this is good news or bad."

The man is hurrying, not armored or marked as the Terrestrial before was, dressed to be proof against the cold, but not too heavily. He quickly reaches them, and Valencia stops before him. "House Durant refuses to send their share of troops, Lady Silverstar."

"I see." Is her only reply, and her gaze flickers to Vorpal.

Vorpal: Upon hearing the news, Vorpal, who had been walking alongside Valencia in a silence of her own, merely closes her eyes in the depths of her hood.

And so it already begins, eh?

"I can't say I'm very familiar with Windian politics", she begins, her breath sending forth puffs of frost with every word, "so tell me this: are the Durants generally very traitorous towards your king's crown?"

Valencia Silverstar: "...not to the crown, no." Valencia says after a moment of thought, then looks to the messenger, holding as he is a sheaf of paper. "I will be taking that. You may return to your duties."

He hands her the paper and goes, making all haste to leave those two terrible women, regardless of how quiet both are at the time being, and Valencia watches him before resuming her walk. "No. Not to the crown." She does not look at the papers yet. "They have other designs, I am afraid. I have reason to suspect they are responsible for certain events in the past, and now they fear I threaten their power."

Vorpal: "And here I thought a common enemy would be all the prompting that bitter enemies would need to learn how to work together", the Ghost-Blooded responds with a tone of voice that might border on mock disappointment. She shrugs her shoulders, tugging her voluminous cloak better around her form. While her mercenary leathers did provide her with ample protection against the chill of the winter, the short time they had spent underground had left several cold beads of sweat trickling uncomfortably down her back. "Too bad."

After a moment of silence, she aims a short glance at Valencia from the corner of her eye. "How many soldiers does that leave us with?"

Valencia Silverstar: "Possibly as much as a thousand less. Durant is a large, powerful House." Valencia says with a tone of similar disappointment, and quickens her pace. "Too much for them to forfeit, I am afraid."

Vorpal: "They might have gotten better offers from the Bishop's minions, too", Vorpal adds, keeping up with the Lunar's hastened pace without trouble. "Some of his deathknights that I have encountered seemed eager enough to trade."

Valencia Silverstar: "Perhaps so." Valencia shrugs, striding down the path and looking across the city toward the Durant mansion. "But between you and the Dark Angel, and my efforts a few days ago, most of the dead have been cleared from this city. There is no rumor of more than a few ghosts now."

"The only deathknight I should let deal with them is the Dark Angel, much as I hate to admit it sometimes."

Vorpal: "I'm sure she'd love that offer", the Pale Angel responds, her eyes hard underneath her hood. "Would you like me to pass it over to her?"

Valencia Silverstar: Valencia looks at Vorpal strangely, somewhat irritated at that offer. "No. She is not yet fit for that, if she will ever be. I will not let her come back until her solution is something other than death."

And then they are nearly to the end of the path, beginning to move into the city proper once more.

Vorpal: "No, she cannot think of anything else", Vorpal agrees, nodding slightly. Focusing her attention to the city, the Pale Angel makes a show of observing the buildings they approach and the layout of the streets themselves. Her mind, however, is working on other matters entirely.

No, her solution is always death. But death does not change a thing, and so she keeps on running around in circles.

Then, with a mental shrug, she adds to herself: I suppose she does a wonderful job at running around in circles, though.

"And what would your solution would be?" she asks after several minutes' span of time.

Valencia Silverstar: The Windian snorts lightly, snowflakes falling on her silvery hair, wings twitching somewhat behind her at the very thought. "I have only heard the legend she doubtless enjoys weaving about herself. I've not actually met the girl since she was nine or so. There is not much I can think to do knowing only what I know."

Moving in among the buildings, on a narrow street, her voice becomes a bit quieter. "A pity she had to end up that way. A pity for all your kind."

Vorpal: And now is Vorpal's turn to let her voice tremble with slight irritation. "Save your pity for those who deserve it", she says, her voice low and rumbling, like a quiet growl of a panther. "No matter why, when or how, we chose doom by ourselves. We, and we alone, shall bear the blame for that."

She pauses, and when she speaks again, her tone is once again surpringly conversational, her mien almost friendly. "It's not always so bad, really." She raises one hand, tapping her temple with two fingers. "It's all about how you think about it."

Gennadi: A lightly cloaked figure steps out into the street, confronting the first of the two. Faintly luminescent eyes stare out from beneath snow-caked hair. "Excuse me, are you locals?"

Valencia Silverstar: "Most likely not all the time, yes." She replies off-handedly, looking to the newcomer and halting. "I would be such a person, yes."

Vorpal: Vorpal's mirth fades immediately the moment they are approached by the stranger. Her mien hardening, she favors the newcomer with a not-so-inviting look. "And you are?"

Gennadi: "Lost, actually. I don't suppose you could point me towards a cenotaph with a pair of hurricane-shaped eyes made of ice?"

Valencia Silverstar: "Ah." Valencia breathes, remembering the last time she saw the thing the man is describing. She can't recall having seen this man before. "That would be the park over --" Pointing in the general direction, the Windian indicates the park she met the Abyssal and his strike team in "-- that way. I do recall it being partially demolished, unfortunately."

Gennadi: He shrugs. "Possibly saving me some time. Thank you for the directions." He bows curtly and turns to head off to check on such.

Valencia Silverstar: "Wait a moment." Valencia says in a louder voice. "No one is allowed in that park right now, except sorcerers specifically detailed to the task of sanctifying it of the dead's influence."

Gennadi: "Mrm. Now I'm off schedule. Do you mean the great works of sorcerery, or your average to middling priests and thaumaturges?"

Vorpal: Eh?

Forgetting her stern imago for a moment, Vorpal lifts a mildly bemused eyebrow at that. "Which are you, then?"

Gennadi: "Average to middling priest, of course. Great works of sorcery types wouldn't be lost and asking for directions, now would they?"

Valencia Silverstar: "A mix." She replies, then casts her gaze about the area quickly before returning it to him. "Pray tell, what is your reason for wanting to know where it is, if I may ask?"

Gennadi: "It is an issue of an inhereitence."

Valencia Silverstar: "Oh?"

It may be coincidence, but then again, it may not. Of course, the dead would probably use a more clever method to get back inside their grounds than that...or they could use this one, hoping people would think that.

Except some of the city officials were not that creative and would deny anyone access to the area. She did regret that there was no one to have tail him.

"Spirit blood?"

Gennadi: "You could say that."

Valencia Silverstar: The Lunar looks over at Vorpal, lifting her eyebrow, then back to this newcomer, examining his face under the hood. If he was pale like the deathknight...

Vorpal: Vorpal notices Valencia's gaze. So many times before she had seen a similar look on Dark Angel's face, when the two deathknights had silently communicated about their suspicions that something in their surroundings might be hidden from ordinary sight. Perhaps the Lunar does not mean her look in that way, but the Ghost-Blooded decides to give it a try nonetheless.

Quietly tapping into her power, she calls forth one of the Arcanoi that are hers by the right of her birth, attuning her sights to measure the amount of Essence within and around this stranger.

• Vorpal's attempt to attune her simple ghost magic to the world succeeds, and she beholds the newcomer's aura. Red. As red as can be, overlaid on his form. As is Valencia's.

Vorpal: There are only two conlusions to be made of that. Either this stranger is a powerful God- or Ghost-Blooded... or more than that.

Either way, it would be something worth mentioning to the Lunar beside her.

Valencia Silverstar: He is not of the dead, nor related to them, as far as Valencia can tell. Not from surface appearances anyway. She will try and put someone on him later, it should not be hard to remember those eyes. "I could indeed. I would prefer you were a bit more clear about such things, however. This is war-time, and we are understandably curious about newcomers."

Gennadi: "Mrm. Does being clear get me where I need to be?"

Valencia Silverstar: "It could."

Gennadi: "No magical bloodline of any sort that I'm aware of."

"It's all me. Care to see a trick?"

"I'm sure I can think of something to assuage your worries."

Valencia Silverstar: More on her guard now, Valencia's lips compress as she hears those words. "A trick, eh?" She has her daiklave, that is really all she needs, should this person start something. "Indeed, then."

Vorpal: "No, we don't care", Vorpal suddenly puts in, a positively chilly edge in her voice.

Gennadi: "Tough crowd. Directions to the hiring office for the park, then? I imagine they'll be easier to convince of the worth and absolute safety of my few talents."

Valencia Silverstar: "You mean the military. That would require you joining up." Valencia replies smoothly, eyes flickering to Vorpal for a moment and then back. So the Pale Angel didn't want to find out what he was that way? A pity.

"Or, perchance, getting a pass. Seeing as I am the person who is responsible for it all, seeing me or one of my subordinates would be the thing to do." She chuckles, then looks toward the direction of the park. "But unless you can convince me of your urgency, I very much doubt I am the one you will be talking to. The temporary offices for the operation are in the district to the south. You can't miss it. Half the place is destroyed."

Gennadi: He sighs. "I can, if the mood strikes me, be quite charming. I suppose you're don't consider retrieving the personal notebooks of an Exalt from the First Age urgent enough without a smile or three, right?"

Valencia Silverstar: Valencia sighs. Not the sigh of someone charmed, the sigh of someone who has enough to do already and is exasperated.

"Are they buried?"

Gennadi: "No. Hidden chamber in the cenotaph, I believe."

Vorpal: "Guarded? Trapped by any chance?" the Ghost-Blooded puts in, still glaring at the stranger with open suspicion, the deep-red glow of his Essence visible only to her eyes.

Gennadi: "Eh, locks. Nothing dangerous, surely."

Valencia Silverstar: "Ah." She remembers the Abyssal trying to skewer her with a racing trail of bone spines that erupted from the ground. It hit that thing. Nothing fell out, so whatever it was inside probably wasn't disturbed.

"Are you a Chosen, perchance?" Her tone is flat and simple.

Gennadi: "You'll have to be more specific. Everyone is chosen for something, or by someone."

Valencia Silverstar: "A Chosen of the gods. Or the Dragons." She looks him up and down. So far, he does not seem like a Dragon-Blooded. So, Anathema then, of some kind.

"'Anathema'?"

Gennadi: "I take offense at the categorization, but... Yes."

"I imagine a normal person would have fled screaming after the first glare from that one." He points at Vorpal.

Valencia Silverstar: "Oh yes, I love the term so." Valencia says sarcastically, moving her head up to one side as a forward woman would show off a dimple. Except, she's calling attention to the silver runes that start on one cheek and run down into the collar of her dress. She then looks back normally again. Her tone does not change. "I will probably have to deal with the Wyld Hunt after this mess is over, so many 'Anathema' sighted in this region."

Vorpal: Vorpal chuckles at that, an ominous sound, one that holds promise of deep, dark and painful things. "True", she responds, taking a step closer towards the stranger. "All too true. They flee from me all the time, brave warriors, fearless soldiers, master swordsmen honor-bound not to retreat from a battle. And if I may say so myself -"

And it is at this point that her eyes bore through him like a pair of blood-soaked icicles. Her tongue becomes a scalpel, each word slicing tiny little shavings off the stranger's skin. "That fear is every bit well-deserved."

She pauses, allowing the effect to soak in, before adding: "Enough of beating around the bush. Speak clearly, directly and honestly. Now, if you will. Your life and well-being depends on it."

Gennadi: "Mrm, you ARE good. Chosen, yes. Specifically Venus. I'm here on an errand, and I suspect I'll be gone on another one."

Vorpal: Sink me! A Sidereal!

It is an effort for Vorpal to keep her face straight at the revelation, but she does her very best. The Ghost-Blooded has had very little experience with the Chosen of the Maidens before. She risks a quick glance in Valencia's direction - Vorpal hates to rely on someone else, but perhaps the Lunar knows better how to proceed.

Gennadi: "I could offer you a story about a birthmark or two if you'd like. Otherwise, you surely have things to do, being Chosen yourselves, and I have notebooks to collect."

Valencia Silverstar: "Wonderful. And indeed we do." There would be no remembering him now -- no one ever could remember them for some reason, except as 'Sidereals'. "Go then, and get your permission from the temporary office down there -- though they'll all forget you asked after I expect. You will know it when you see it."

Gennadi: "Good. Apologies for being insufferable, it tends to distract people from the clues. Any good resteraunts in the area?"

Vorpal: "Try the Hourglass, if it hasn't been destroyed yet.", Vorpal responds, and seems to lose interest. Turning away, she takes a step or two away from the Sidereal. "They have very nice baths."

Valencia Silverstar: "There was one." She begins more light-heartedly. "It was quite excellent, being often used in business meetings for people all around the city."

"Another deathknight blew it up trying to kill me almost a week ago."

Gennadi: "Mrm. I am told they do that. Never had occasion to let one get the better of me, though. Maybe later." He offers a wave and heads in the eindicated dirction. Lunars and deathknights and weckage, oh my.

Valencia Silverstar: "Perhaps so." Valencia replies, tone back to what it was before he appeared. She would probably forget him. And it was going to irritate her.

She looks to the Pale Angel. "We should be going." And begins to walk off in another direction, following her original course. There were the Durants and their objections to mull over -- she almost could let that little brat come back with all her trappings of death just so teach them a lesson.

Always later for such things, though. Always later.

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