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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SeventhMovement|Seventh Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Beauties in Amber ==
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| − | Amber Post.
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| − | Slave Citatel. Fortress of burnt wood and cold steel.
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| − | Trade centre of the Northeast.
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| − | The closest, at any rate.
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| − | The Zephyr left the Pale and Dark Angels at its outskirts, to get the nessessary money and materials to get Iron Tears' Iron Army running once again. And it is... a distinctly different atmosphere. Bazaars, markets, tents... around the citatel, a market has been created. Caravans come and go. The marks of twenty different tribes meeting.
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| − | The stench.<br>
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| − | The stench of animals, drugs, blood.
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| − | They hear the sound of screams. Somewhere to their left slaves are whipped. A tribesman fights with a merchant about a price and it ends in blood. The Guild Caravan arrives and seems utterly blind and above those lowlifes even as their Yeddim farts. And so the angels thread the markets outside the citatel...
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| − | Vorpal can feel more... the spirits of the slaves. Crying. Begging. She feels them clinging to her.
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| − | Pleading something to her even as her boot goes through them...
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' She has been here before. Not many times -- Selina did not care to own slaves. But Amber Post was still a useful stopping point for her if she didn't want to venture too near the Black Chase and Sijan on her northern trips. None of those bastards ever dared to touch her.
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| − | ''And yet I still wish I could wipe this filthy place off of the face of the world. ''
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| − | More so than the Boil. More so than Nexus. It was cancer that should be purged. It is all she can do to ignore what is going on around her -- sometimes only the fact that she wishes to remain in good standing with the Guild holds her back.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Vorpal tugs the hood of her simple black cloak lower over her head. Some other places she had been to had some similar accumulation of spiritual misery and tormented souls. It was always a result of generations of abuse, of lives changed or lost over a few bits silver.
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| − | War always brings misery with it, and battles result in prisoners. Sometimes, they have to be interrogated for valuable information, sometimes they have to be placed to work for their enemies, to till the fields and build walls when the manpower would otherwise be lacking. Usually, however, prisoners were simply executed, to spare the victor of the trouble. As a warrior, Vorpal has grown up on these cold facts of life. Yet even so, the dens of flith like this - places where lives are traded in with calm, calculating deliberation - make something deep inside her... bristle.
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| − | She cannot help it, so she is determined to just endure it, to walk through it with their purpose in mind. But still, the eyes peeking out from under her hood have a certain scowling air to them. "The Cestas have struck up an interesting business, that's for certain", she observes in an emotionless voice. "Vaarenshields of Iranor sometimes come here."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Your people traded in slaves, eh? Wouldn't have thought that. I hope this place can support my withdrawal." Selina says with a shake of her head. Her greatcoat is on, buttoned up. "I don't know if the amount we need would be kept here as liquid assets...silver or jade."
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| − | "Disgusting place, either way." She mutters under her breath. "Firewarder can be worse, but not like this."
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "Technically, vaarsenites ''aren't'' my people", Vorpal replies with some mild edge in her voice. She cranes her neck a little, spying a beautiful man with a flowing rainbow hair - a Fair Folk glamour, no doubt - being carried away tucked into an iron cage so small that he barely had the room to sit there. "They are a rivalling faction. I was a helmite."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Well, Iranorians, whichever." Selina says with a shrug. "Just like the difference between some of the nobility and provincials in Winlandia. We're all still Windians though."
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| − | The Windian looks about, trying to recall where the moneychangers who work on the level she needs would be. Having rarely had to transport anything on the scale of talents in her trips, she had rarely gone to one of the larger and more bank-like places in the settlement to get her currency.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Vorpal lets it be. No-one else but an Iranorian could understand the Three Crowns War in any case. "So how much did you need from here in any case?"
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| − | Vorpal lets it be. No-one else but an Iranorian could understand the sense of division between the Principalities the Three Crowns War has caused in any case. It is something Vorpal has run into before, and does not even attempt to correct it. "So how much did you need from here in any case?"
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "About ten talents." Selina demures. "Maybe as many as twenty, though I hope it will not come to that."
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| − | Twenty talents was a lot of money for the ''Realm'', Selina had heard during her youth...and later, in various conversations that drifted to various things of power in the world. For her...well...it would not throw her finances into chaotic disarray, but she will have to maintain a closer eye on them and tread lightly until Iria can repay her.
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| − | ''Which may be awhile. ''
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| − | Unless of course, she gets more money out of this venture. Perhaps Opal will part with some of her precious battlefield salvage?
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| − | ''And then there is always the Lover's payment to me. ''
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| − | "I may have to throw my weight around to get those kinds of liquid assets here."
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' "Aine!" The Dark Angel hears a voice call.... a woman with only one eye, walking out of her tent on the vendor and towards them... Selina remembered her. Mistress of poisons, one she had bought them from on... occasion. The patterns of snakes on her outfit made quite clear she liked to be known as such! "How have ou been? Needing anything?"
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "Ten talents", Vorpal mumbles under her breath.
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| − | ''Are you planning to arm a whole legion? ''
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| − | "You will attract the attention of every Guild factor in the North". It is more like a statement, not an accusation. She falls silent at the sound of the unknown voice. Folding her arms under the cloak, she stands back and allows the Dark Angel to handle her own contacts.
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "You can only get an elite company with half of ten, though...what do you think I ought to try for then? Iria seems to want more than a company..." She trails off as the other woman approaches.
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| − | ''Ah. ''
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| − | ''Elenna. ''
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| − | "Ah, just money, this time." Selina replies to to her old supplier.
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' "Awwwww...." Ellena pouts, a simple trick of legerdemain making many vials full of colored liquids appear in her hands... "Arrow Frog Poison! Concentrated Ice Fern Spore! Devineko Liver! I even have some Coral Snake Poison, dearie!" She smiles, "You'll need to spend the money into something, no?"
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "I might be interested in some coral snake or arrow frog venom, but no, that's not the reason I'm here, for once." Selina responds. Her own poison, normally kept secure in her greatcoat's inner pockets, had somehow been broken during a fight. She'd gotten poison smell out of her garment, and the shards of the container, but now she was without poison at all.
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| − | ''Not that it'd be useful against the dead. ''
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| − | "Are there any sellswords around here who don't have contracts? If not, any other holds or small cities near by hosting mercenaries?"
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "It's the wrong side of the River", Vorpal puts in from behind them. "Vaarsenites have hogged up most of them from this shore. They have a pressing need for mercenaries right now."
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' "She is right, not too many around. A few, though. After all, the Guild pays well enough, and there are always some thrillseekers. Too many thrills around here..." She smiles, seeing parts of a company going past them, barbarians clad in mammoth bones and like weapons, trying to be fightening with the bones, one of them having natural tusks, and runed claws.
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Shit." Selina swears under her breath. "Well, I don't know where to get them then."
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' "You came here for mercenaries? Thought it had been for money?" She asks, blinking, her poisons disappearing on her sleeve. "Oh, and who are... you?" She asks of the Pale Angel... "You are a real better company than Aine had here last time.What was the name of that walking mountain again?"
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "I'm a ghost."
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| − | Saying that, the Pale Angel shifts her stance a little, light falling over a half of her face, a curve of her hood's edge plunging the other part into deep shadow. The stare she fixes the poisoner with is calm, even and unwavering. "Tell me, is Captain deSiri still contracted to the Guild?"
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' She smiles. "deSiri? Yes, yes! He seems to be overseeing the slaves inside the citatel now, I think... he buys some for his mercenary work. We have been getting a nice supply of them lately - not just the usual Barbarian fare, now both the dead and the fae are smuggling many, many Whiteshield survivors... now that no government there can do a thing about it."
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| − | "It is a sad thing, a fallen country, and the Guild ''loves'' it."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "The dead and the fae?" Selina asks curiously, wondering why the dead would bother.
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| − | ''Either way, I will rend them screaming into pieces. ''
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| − | "Maybe I should have a word with someone about that."
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' "Arguin Cesta likes to cultivate good relationships with the fae, you know. That means we always get fae here selling the dream-eaten or buying slaves for dream-eating. And mercenaries, of course, those ''lovely'' faerie thrillseekers. They like my poisons. One I shacked up with, Aine, you wouldn't ''believe'' how he..." Then she stops, embarassed a bit... "Well, you know. And those who lost their homes on Whiteshield are using every coin they have to carve a new power base here.... like so!" She points...
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| − | And the Angel's eyes can follow to a comitive of fur-clad little goblins, like white, humanoid wolverines.... as a royal guard to a floating princess of silver, three eyes floating about her. They pass by... and she shrugs. "See you! Don't forget to come back and get things to kill people slowly with!"
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' ''Blazes. ''
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| − | She keeps her mien carefully emotionless, yet her eyes gain a deep, murderous gleam to them.
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| − | ''Survivors from Whiteshield... I should have known they would come here. ''
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| − | A servitude in chains for the rest of your life... or a servitude for all eternity as a shambling corpse among the ranks of the dead. Which is the better fate of two?
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| − | "Inside the citadel", she repeats, gravely, then turns away without another word to continue on their errand.
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Be back later, perhaps, Elenna." Selina nods. "Take care of yourself." And then she turns to follow her counterpart.
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| − | '''Vorpal: '''"Vaarenshield, faeries..." Vorpal follows the unreal tourage of the silver princess with a hood-hidden gaze for a moment as they make their way through the bazaar. "We have a lot of competition for this. We might have to kill someone before this is over."
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| − | She falls silent for a moment, her brooding air a nigh-visible aura all around her. "Get twenty talents. Strangle someone if you have to, just get them."
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' In front of the Citatel, guards in full armor. All filled with magical enchantments and runes from six different tribes and cultures. Their weapons are gossamer and cold iron, hand in hand. Behind them, is a tall man in colorful regalia, four arms, and the visage of an ant. "What is your bussiness, honored Deathknights?"
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "I need to make a withdrawal." Selina says curtly, frowning at the guards. "And we wish to inquire into certain services that can be bought. The sword and others."
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| − | '''Narrator: '''"Indeed. Just try to make no trouble, honored Deathknights. We are glad to have your presence with us."
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| − | He bows. And it does show why he is there - he masks his fear of Deathknights well enough, unlike his peers.
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| − | "Would you wish a guide? The bank is to the right, the mercenary quarters are outside, unless you wish to speak with our captain deSiri..."
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' ''Hunh. Their spies work fast. ''
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| − | "We will grab someone by the collar if we need directions", Vorpal responds with a dismissive wave of hand. Just to make the Guild spies to work just a little bit harder to keep an eye on them.
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "I've been here a few times before, do not trouble yourselves." Selina follows up, looking to the right.
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' The Angels walks into the Guild's bank...
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| − | Past the innards of the fortress, full of fires, so many forges trying to keep the place warm, slaves working constantly on the dirt, tasksmasters constantly watching for them, whips in hand... and yet, past of this vision that would not seem out of place in a trench of the Realm during a war, they walk into the Guild Bank...
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| − | ... to be met with clear light from glass windows, an enclosed, but not claustrophobic atmosphere, a pleasant warmth from the fire.... a sweet music played on the violin, and guards all around. Men in colorful robes stand on their desks, waiting for their clients while they look at an ever-increasing paperwork on their tables, lines of people going to them, of all walks of life, office-boys running like mad back and forth...
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| − | ... it was like stepping on another world.
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: '''Selina goes up to one of the desks, expression impassive. "Which one of you does withdrawals? Large withdrawals."
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| − | ''And you had better do them. ''
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' "Define large, dearie. Dark Angel, are you not? I wonder what would make you draw so much..."
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| − | "But it is... that man other ''there''!" She points... to a desk with quite a line. A long one.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Her arms still folded under her cloak, Vorpal closes her eyes and shifts her weight to one foot, waiting patiently for bureaucracy to begin.
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| − | ''The Fair Folk from Whiteshield, the Principality of Vaarenshield, perhaps even old Captain deSiri himself... We have a lot of competition about acquiring the mercenaries we need. ''
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| − | ''Someone is going to die before this day will end. ''
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Selina walks halfway to the long line. Then, she examines it, making sure that these are not people she knows, or cares about offending.
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| − | ''All competition after all. ''
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| − | ''Every one of you bastards who takes money means there is less for '''me'''. ''
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' There are mercenary captains, there are guild merchants, there are barbarians... a couple servants that are probably not here for themselves.... there is even one of the fair ones! It is quite an eclective mixture, that is for usre.
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' ''Oh how I wish I could deal with my compatriots in this way sometimes''. Selina thinks gleefully as she walks up to the head of the line. Almost. She doesn't cut in the front of the person actually conducting business. Instead, she waits to one side, looking at the paperwork which the Guild member and customer are dealing with. Then looking at them both. Her gaze eventually settles on the customer. And stays there.
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' The customer - a barbarian with large elk horns over his head - turns to her. "Whatcha lookin' at?"
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Selina grins, her teeth made fangs now, staring him directly in the eyes. Not a full grin, but certainly enough to show she now has sharp teeth. "How much you withdrawing?" Her tone is conversational, eagerness hinted at the edges.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Vorpal has some experience on these matters, so she anticipates Selina's next intention. Allowing the Dark Angel to handle matters in her end, the Ghost-Blooded focuses her attention on the nearest captain of the guards instead. She does not move nor speak, but initiates a gaze contact of her own.
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| − | ''Don't. ''
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| − | The message is calm, even, and very, very clear.
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' The guard does not move. At all. Scared.
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| − | The barbarian looks at her... "What's it to you?!?" He asks, afronted, stomping his foot and making his bone ornaments rattle.
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| − | The one at the desk, an effeminated man, raises a finger, "Remember, birdie, no obstruct trade..."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Oh, business is exactly what I am interested in." Selina shakes her head sadly, and rolls up the left sleeve of her greatcoat. The black leather glove, going up farther than she can roll the garment with minimal trouble, doesn't gleam at all. Then she slides the glove off, putting it in her other hand, holding the left hand and its now bare arm up a bit for emphasis. Her left arm and hand are pale and appear capable of great deftness, has a few paler scars criss-crossing them in various places, some uglier than others, but somehow, that only enhances the effect.
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| − | Then they grow paler, muscle strengthening, skin withering a bit with sudden age, faint scale-patterns appearing, nails lengthening and strengthening into small claws. All in a single burst that takes only a split second. It is not the actual strength of Hyrokkin, but it will do to make a point. She makes a fist and unmakes it, bones creaking beneath the flesh from the force she is suddenly exerting upon them.
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| − | Then she pats the barbarian amiably with her normal hand, knowing how much most of their kind hate outsiders touching them or intruding into their personal space.
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| − | "Culwyeh wishes to know, is that good?" Her tone is also amiable. "She needs to make very large withdrawals, yes, very large indeed."
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' While keeping her eyes firmly on the guard, Vorpal listens to the conversation carefully - like an artist of music appraising the performance of a colleague. The actions, the tone of the voice, the emphasis on the words, the subtle messages conveyed by slight changes in the posture... They are all small but important parts of the great whole, the ingredients from which the finished song comes from.
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| − | ''Hmm. ''
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' The man looks back a bit, frowning... "Oh... oh, just a couple dirhams, Culwyeh...."
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| − | "For Ice Fern Spores. Tribal rituals. Our customs, you see..."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' That does not seem unreasonable to her. Certainly not a talent's worth.
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| − | Selina nods and steps back a pace, arm going back to a normal state, putting her long black glove back on, rolling the coat down over it. "I see. After, I shall conduct my business, then."
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' The Fae takes a step out of the line, tall and lithe, "Excuse me, Culwyeh? Are you obstructing trade? Do you think you are better than all of us?" He asks, his gossamer armor resplendent. "There is a line. Certainly even cursed ones know they should use it? Guild has rules, and you know it is bad to break them... certainly, I do."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Selina holds up a finger and wags it from side to side, chidingly. "Now now, I know all about Guild rules. I have waited in a long line many times, and I will again. But today is an urgent day, and I am sure the Guild will remember all I have done for it in Nexus and elsewhere and forgive this unfortunate necessity."
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| − | Then she shrugs, indicating that she would prefer the situation was otherwise but cannot help it. The faint allusion to the underguilds she has purged and other things she has done should be enough to dissaude any Guild flunkie who knows much of the story that goes around. And, of course, her manipulation of some errant salt gods.
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' The fae looks at her... defiantly... then smiles, and shrugs. "Very well, Culwyeh. Let it not be said that Afren the Sweet Sorrel is not a gentleman." He bows, "And maybe whern you finish, we might have a party with such silver, what do you think?" He winks.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' ''They say Fair Ones never forget an affront, you know... ''
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| − | Vorpal resists an impulse to smile.
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Perhaps. Should the situation permit..." Selina acknowledges with a nod. Graciously. There is no need to beat people up if you can convince them otherwise.
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| − | ''Something that slip of a girl will '''never''' learn. ''
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' And then, the Barbarian picks his dirhams, and walks out... "All yours, Culwyeh. Enjoy."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Selina moves in quickly, then looks down at the man at the desk. "For everyone's convenience, this must be quick. I wish to withdraw twenty talents."
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' The man behind the desk leans his chin on a hand filled with many, many gaudy and colorful rings... apparently a cross between amused, scared, and wondering wether the woman was mad. "... I beg you pardon?"
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Vorpal relaxes a little herself, allowing her gaze slide away from the poor guard.
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| − | "In jade", she adds, as if by afterthought. "Not silver."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "If indeed you have that many in jade, yes. After all, most of the money I deposit at Nexus is in jade." Selina concurs.
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| − | '''Narrator: '''"I... am not sure you know how trade works, deathknight... see... it is not that simple! One does not make twenty Jade Talents materialize out of thin air! One is already too much! The Guild deals in ''silver'', woman! Unless this is really, really important... and even then, it would take us a long time to amass all of it!"
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Then I will take twenty jade talents worth in silver talents." Selina says with an assured nod, voice eminantly reasonable. "If there are any left when I am done, I will deposit that again, so you do not lose too much capital so quickly."
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' "Wait, wait... it is ''not'' like that!" The 'man' says, very much confused, as he gets up... calling the man from the other desk. "Denny, dear, my dear... will you come here and attend to my clients? I need to talk about these girls here in... private." He says, walking out of the room, picking the little wood retagle reading 'Gaylord' out of the table, motioning for the girls to follow him for a side room....
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Selina throws Vorpal a long-suffering glance, then shrugs. "Ok." She waits for Vorpal's cue, if she will come as well, before going, however.
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Vorpal suppresses another smile as she walks after the two. As much as she hates the merchantic slithering herself, it is much more endurable when someone else takes the brunt of the battle.
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Satisfied that she isn't being abandoned, Selina proceeds to follow the man into the side room.
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' Gaylord walks in a room to the side, and they can see talismans of silence all around the room, a room well warded against ghosts. "We might talk a little better here. I am Gaylord Dack, at your service, by the way, my sweets. And see, to get anything like you want... and I know you do have the credit... things are not as simple."
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Selina sighs, standing in the middle of the room, shaking her head. "So either you do not have the capital necessary to satisfy me, or you are having some kind of trouble?"
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' "I have the capital. But you don't understand. There are magics that can have us handle all our money. The Guild is careful, sweetie. Very, very careful. We don't like those bad boys and girls of the faerie and the anathema to get the upper hand on us..." He shakes his head comically. "Your request you need you to sign alot of paperwork, then go through no less than three people, away from you, to see if it is reasonable, and then you will wait until we collect the money in a non-harmful way. You can expect it done in a week, give or take a few days."
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| − | '''Vorpal: ''' There is.... resistance as she crosses the invisible line, like a breeze suddenly blowing against her face. It makes her frown a little. Those talismans are strong enough to affect even the ghost-blooded.
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| − | "But you know a good way to speed up the process, yes?" Vorpal inquires absently and cranes her neck to take a closer look at one of the talismans.
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| − | ''Are these wards new? With the sudden uprising of the dead in Whiteshield, it wouldn't be surprising. ''
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| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "We don't have a week, I am afraid. We barely have a day." Selina states patiently. "If I cannot withdraw the money I have invested in the Guild in a timely manner, I am afraid I will have to be making complaints. Very pointed complaints. To people very high up."
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| − | | |
| − | '''Narrator: ''' "And nothing will change. That system is a fail-safe - a fae can go and kill all our higher-ups, and nothing will change. Kill me, and nothing will change. We play bussiness, dear, and we play safe. And you are not getting that much money without going through the proper channels no matter what. Nothing I can do, and that anyone can, for that matter."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Perhaps it would be a time to use the magic word. Although Vorpal has little contact with the Guild herself, even she knows the phrase that will attract the attention of every member of the organization, factor and apprentice alike. "It is a very urgent matter", she says and turns back from the ward. "If we cannot acquire this money soon, the stability in the North will be threatened and ''the Guild's profits will suffer''."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Narrator: ''' "Tell me why, write it down, and others will evalutate it. From the very fact I met you face to face, my dear, my opinion is useless to them. Glamour, magic... so many ways to bend my poor little mind. Not that you nice girls would do it, would you?" Gaylord picks some papers on a table, chooses the one he wishes, and hands it to them - "Here. We need her signatures, a good reason, and all that."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' They could get the money quickly. But it would mean physically getting the money and killing everyone in their way. And then carting at least thirty silver talents around.
| |
| − | | |
| − | While they are probably, between the two of them, capable of doing all this, there isn't too much point if a better, quicker way can be arranged.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "How about this then." Selina offers, still eminantly reasonable. "We will do the paperwork, and we will not use magic on it. However, I am sure that my name carries much weight. Add this to the situation, and I am willing to wager the withdrawal will be accepted, yes? You have the capital after all."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Now, is there any way the Guild apparatus here can furnish us with some kind of official note saying we have this much in credit and it will be given at a later date, when the paper work is cleared up? Scrip, if you will. Something mercenaries and others here will respect."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Narrator: ''' "That will also take a few days, sweetie. After others in other places ascertain your request is reasonable."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "We do ''not'' have that much money here, you understand. Never in plain sight."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Oh, and... excuse me for the secrecy. If word gets out we will assemble that much, the caravans will attract raiders like bees attracts honey..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Selina looks to Vorpal, sighing. "We wait a few days then?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "It's either that, or we cut our way through everyone in this post and take what we need", Vorpal speaks the Dark Angel's own thoughts aloud. Then she shrugs. "We'll need a few days to find what we are looking for here in any case. It is reasonable."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Turning over to the clerk, she inquires: "Will this include quarters we can use for the duration of our stay?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Narrator: ''' Gaylord blinks... blinks... blinks.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Wait, wait... my dear, my dear..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "You just asked if the Guild will give you something for free?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Chibi-Vorpy: ''' Yes, I did. Silly me.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "No, I was asking if the Guild would be willing to pay for us practically promising that we will be spending roughly twenty talents in Amber Post during the next few days." Vorpal frowns. "What do you call it? Bundle bonus? Wholesale?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Yep." Selina agrees, nodding, pleased that she doesn't have to do it all herself. "We could go spend it in some of the many small kingdoms and such around here instead, if you like. Think of it as my investment in the organization reaping even more profit."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Narrator: ''' "You do realise the Guild is... harsh on its debtors, right, dearies? Anyway, that ammount does fall under what it would be doable. As long as you do not try to be too luxurious, of course. Do enjoy Amber Post... I am sure many people find the melting pot it is quite... interesting." He nods.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "We don't need much." Selina shrugs. "But we'd prefer not to sleep in flea-ridden cots or stiff straw beds either."
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| − | | |
| − | '''Narrator: ''' "We would not do ''that''! If the money is real, nobody wants to die, after all!" He smiles.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Dying is very unprofessional."
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| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "Then we understand each other." Vorpal nods, gravely. "Excellent."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Now we deal with the paperwork, then wander about until it's time." Selina sighs.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Oh well.
| |
| − | | |
| − | At least she's only with Vorpal and not the rest of them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | === Later... ===
| |
| − | | |
| − | The rain drums upon the roof of the inn, such as it is in Amber Post. Though it is not a bad one -- Selina has been in much worse. She sits on a chair turned backwards, greatcoat draped over the back of the chair, yawns, and looks to the other Abyssal. "I haven't been that reasonable in a long time. Silly guildsmen and their rules -- it's been a long time since I bothered taking out large sums of money anywhere except in Nexus."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "Oooh?" Vorpal raises a mischievous eyebrow at that, tossing her broad cloak across the bed and flopping down into the chair opposite to the Dark Angel. She throws one leg over the other and reclines, one arm dropped carelessly over the backrest. "I really thought you would eat him by the time of the twelfth signature. But I'm glad you didn't. We need that money."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "If I start eating one, I have to eat them all." Selina says with a shrug, looking down at the floor. "Unless it's an underguild." Then she looks back up and sighs. "Of course now we stay here for a week or two. Hopefully we don't return to a burnt out Spire and dead army. And friends."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "We won't", Vorpal responds, simply. "Whatever flaws she has, I will admit Valencia is a brilliant commander. She will be able to keep everything together while we are away."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Then, her eyes crunch up, much like those of a cat. She leans forward, smiling, and props her chin against the cupped palm of her hand. "Now, as a reward for the Dark Angel being a nice and dutiful girl and fighting her way through that bureaucratic battle..." She raises her free hand, a green glass bottle and two cups held expertly between her fingers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "I still can't help feeling that things would go much better if I was there to do them or help with them." She says uncertainly. Of course, that is a feeling she's long had. Throughout her entire life, whether when Izabella or Dylan or Viktoriya was trying to do something and she knew the right way and wanted to show them, or any more recent business. "But oh well." She shrugs again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And then looks at the glasses and the bottle. And then takes one of the glasses. "Going to get me all liqoured up, then?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Sometimes, it is a general's duty to show confidence, lest the faith of the others would fail. Vorpal knows this well, and thus, she is careful to hide her own worries about the people back in Spire as she plucks the cork off the bottle with her teeth. How long had it been since they had left their allies... friends? Members of that... Circle behind in Spire?
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I couldn't find chocolate", she explains and fills their glasses. "And, I don't know what other things you like, so this will have to do."
| |
| − | | |
| − | It hasn't been all that long yet, has it? And yet, in a strange way, Vorpal already finds her thoughts returning to the Spire and the individuals left there. Judging by the Dark Angel's words, she is feeling the same. Troubled by the knowledge that the souls they are responsible for are far away and out of their reach.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Hunh. Some Abyssals we are. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "The only chocolate here is probably any exotic slaves from the south." Selina says with a smirk. "But wine will do." She takes a sip of the stuff, then looks at the window.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Now, I'm going to have to avoid killing people when I see Windian slaves on the auction block. Though maybe I'll let myself kill the ones who brought them here."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "How is it that Winlandia deals with the Guild in any case?" Vorpal asks, replacing the cork in the bottle and picking up her own glass. "Your people does not seem to appreciate its practices, but more than anything, Guild has a reputation for forcing entire realms to buy their goods, no matter what."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Back when I was younger the Guild was not allowed to knowingly deal in Winlandian nationals in the North." Selina says sadly. "It was a concession we gleaned with a lot of trouble from them, and some concessions on our side, like exporting the vast amount of our economic output that'd be shipped out of the country to them. Don't know about now. In any case, the war has made getting through them easier."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Maybe after the war is over," She says after another sip of wine, a bit of gleeful malice entering her turquoise eyes. "I'll go around the world, killing everyone who owns Windian slaves. Mostly house-slaves and concubines, anyway -- we aren't too sturdy for fieldwork. There's a few in Nexus, was more before I came in. Most owners decided it wasn't worth their lives to do that kind of thing where I could find out about it."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "Free like birds in the sky, eh?" Vorpal responds, her eyelids drooping. Absently she sloshes the wine in her glass for a moment, then finally takes a sip. "How nice."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Think it's silly?" Selina asks curiously. "Apparantly, alot of people like to fuck delicate little angels. And some like to do it very nastily. You should be thankful you aren't so delicate looking."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "I'm not?" Vorpal blinks. Well... it is true she is not exactly a delicate little angel... closer to something like a warrior succubus, as one poet or another had once called her. "Would you prefer I was?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Oh, I like sturdy." Selina says with some tone of assurance. "Have no fear of that. It's fun to get them all whimpering and blushy."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Then she resumes drinking her wine, having more than before.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Leaning against the back rest so that the entire chair creaks, Vorpal gives the Dark Angel a strange look.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Whimpering. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Blushy. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | Those two words are like a red cloth for her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Pale Angel stands up, matter-of-factly, and moves around the table without another word. The wine glass still in one hand, she reaches out between Selina's wings, pushing her arms through the vastness of the other woman's hair and touching lightly her bared shoulders. "You aren't exactly a delicate angel yourself, you know", she adds, a curious tremor in her voice.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Oh I am." Selina says with some bemusement. Coy bemusement. "But delicate doesn't mean I'm not a wicked little wench under the sheets."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Then she wonders why that tremor.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Is she about to do something nasty to me? ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | It could be that. Maybe Alex told her and now she's waiting for the right time to strangle Selina. And she still hasn't figured out a good way to phrase why she did what she did.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Or maybe she's about to tackle me in a fit of desire. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | It could be that too.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I'm a naughty angel." She ventures, feeling the hands on her shoulders, touch light.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "Fu", Vorpal answers, closing her eyes and smiling slightly. Her hands move over the other woman's shoulders. Her gentle touch locates the places where there is tension in the muscles under the silken skin. She begins to massage those tender spots, sensing the raw, throbbing power coursing under her strong fingertips and helping it to flow along. "At least you're honest about some things. It suits you, since you are my reality."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Your reality?" She asks, somewhat surprised at the term, wondering what it means exactly. Then it hits her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''He is her fantasy. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Nevermind, I figured out what you meant by that." Some of the amusement goes out of her expression, though Vorpal isn't facing her and so cannot see, and she feels a twinge of that familiar depression. Reality is ugly and necessary and not sought after. Fantasy and escape is.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Well, at least it has labels now. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | The fact that she has invaded that fantasy, whatever her reasons, just makes it feel worse. But she shakes most of the melancholy feeling off fairly quickly.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Undoubtably it does."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Vorpal senses the abrupt tensing of the Dark Angel's shoulders. No matter how dismissive Selina is being about that, she hadn't liked the wording.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "You misunderstand", Vorpal says and moves her hands downwards. Her fingers seek out the roots of the Dark Angel's black wings and the tendons of supple steel to be found there. She presses, eases, presses, eases, alert and sensitive to everything that happens under her fingertips. "Dreams are nice, but reality is ''real''. That alone makes it something greater than what fantasies can ever be. It is wonderful to read about a rugged mountain range somewhere far away and imagine it bathed in the golden light of dusk, but whatever you can visualize is nothing in comparison to travelling there, and seeing the real thing with your own eyes."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "This", she says, touching the black wings, "is real."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "This", she continues, brushing her fingers through the pale blonde hair, "is real."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "This", she adds, cupping the palm of her hand against one firm breast, feeling the pulsing of the heart somewhere deep beneath. "is ''real''."
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' ''Yet it's no less real when you're with him. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''I'm real, alright. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Real filthy. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''And a real joke. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | Or maybe the relationship is the joke. No, she's not being used. At least, she doesn't think so. Perhaps Vorpal simply does not know how that may be interpreted.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''In any case, I do not believe that thing you have with him is a dream. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | Not when she'd seen it with her own eyes. Intruded upon it and had it restated in her own hearing, by the one she had intruded upon. It was what she wanted to hear, and yet...
| |
| − | | |
| − | Selina chuckles ironically. "If I was not real I would be a ghost. And then where would you get all that sweet sin?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "What difference would it make?" Vorpal pouts a little at that and pushes herself free from the Dark Angel. After downing her wine glass - which has miraculously survived past skin and feathers and an amazingly long mess of hair without losing so much as a drop of its contents - in a single gulp, she proceeds to pour herself another drink. "I ''am'' a ghost myself, remember? How would being one yourself make it any less real for you?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' Selina snickers. "You're a ''half''-ghost, darling." She drinks the rest of her wine. "That means you still have plenty of flesh and blood. And it would be less real because of the lack of that, of course."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' "''Half''?" Vorpal chuckles, one hand resting on her hip while the other brings the glass up to her lips again. "You don't even know the ''half'' of it. You have no idea what we ghosts are capable of should we feel like it."
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Oh I do." Selina says flippantly, smiling wickedly. "I know some of your naughty ghost tricks. But frankly? I prefer your naughty half-ghost tricks. Because I can play some of mine right back."
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' Vorpal lets out an exaggerated snort and tosses her head, somehow managing to look very tough doing it. "Want to show me?"
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "I'm not spoiling for something where we're ''equal'' in that tonight. That was our first time. '''Not''' what I was expecting, I must say." Selina says, rising to her feet and turning around, managing, somehow, to make the movement alluring. Her manner suddenly changes from amused-with-a-hint-of-depression to smokey, without any seeming magic influence at all. "I'm going to '''have''' you tonight, Pale Angel. Every. Last. Magnificent. Bit. Of you."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Her eyes begin to burn with sensuous fire, but that is all the mystical feeling she emits. The Windian moves like a dancer, blazing with calculating, dangerous desire. Her voice is a low killing purr. If she is to be sinful reality, she will be a sinful reality that encapsulates '''utterly'''. "I want to see you resist me, and fall. I want to conquer you. I want you to whimper at my every touch, and writhe when I breath on that flushed white skin."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She stands before Vorpal, eyes narrowed to flickering slits, smirk faint on those wicked lips, black-feathered wings looming up behind her, menacing, framing her form. "Do you dare to stand against me? I will show no mercy tonight."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Vorpal: ''' With a contemptuous flick of her wrist, Vorpal tosses the wine glass away.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I won't ask for any", she replies, and steps boldly forward into the embrace of night-black feathers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Selina de Windia: ''' "Good, good." Selina purrs wickedly, appreciatively. They had had their night of equality -- more than one -- and their night of relative cuteness. And a night where the Pale Angel had dominated, or did at first. But never had Selina dared. Until tonight. The frustration burns within her, fuels that fire of lust. And the desire for the woman before her. "Remember your insults to me, your flouting of me. Voice them."
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''If I am to be sin, I will be Sin. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''If I must be damned, then I shall be damned with style. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | And she realizes, that when she lay with Alex, it did not feel like she was taking her due. That was a warning, the retribution of the action but a small part of it. This...this is her true victory.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Because, love," She flits behind the other woman with only her natural grace, embraces her, one arm around the neck, the other around the midsection, resting her head on Vorpal's shoulder. "You will look most beautiful resisting me while at the heights of passion."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She hugs the deathknight to herself, feeling her against her body, relishing it. Her voice a sinful purr, her hand finding Vorpal's heart as she had done with her earlier. Not feeling her for that purpose...yet. "Resist to the bitter end, Pale Angel. Most puissant and lovely valkyrie, steadfast as a mighty graven image. Conquered and yet not conquered. ''My heroine. ''"
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | ----
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| − | | |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SeventhMovement|Seventh Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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