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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/FirstMovement|First Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == An Innocent Shadow ==
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| − | Racing against Twilight, Kitrain ran.
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| − | The stranger had been fast to arrange things. In fact, they were all close on hand, as if he knew exactly what Domiel would ask for. A sword of the finest steel, clothing to fit a hero from a story, all white, golden, and gray under a similarly fine Buff Jacket. For someone who had awaken up naked, scratched, red, sore, dirtied by earth and sweat and clothes that smelled of something weird, now he felt like a new man, in clothes as regal as that of the stranger.
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| − | And there was little time.
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| − | The first explanation had been how to follow the stars, which simply gave a moment of awkward silence and laughs. The second, much more precise and down-to-earth. A valley on the Icecrystal mounts, close to Hslanti. They would pass through it next day at Sunset. Too far to get to... normally. A Bordermarch close enough to it, and Kitrain could just run through...
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| − | Reality wavered and waxed, and soon, distance was simply a matter of thought... or, of the lack of thereof. Icecrystal was close. It had to be close. It was just after that mountain!
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| − | .... And so it was.
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| − | And, cursing himself at every step of the way, wondering why he chose this damned fool's quest, Domiel led Kitrain on its march against twilight. A poet, not a hero, a lover, not a warrior. And yet, he marched on.... knowing where she would be, and how.
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| − | And, like the stranger had told him, if it wasn't true, what would be wrong anyway? He had to leave Windia anyway. Part of him wished for it to be so, and then he could spend some time with the Hslanti girls before returning home...
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| − | But it was not so.
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| − | At the appointed time, at the appointed place, he saw the wagon that was driving a princess to slavery. Except, it had never been said he would meet a fallen wagon burning in green flames down the road, with only one guard, holding his chest as it smokes a fetid, putrid oily smoke....
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| − | <b>Domiel Winterwing:</b> <i>Don't think. Just go.</i>
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| − | Domiel hunched low against Kitrain's back, urging the red-furred Wyld-beast on faster. He'd had time enough for questions on the way here. Questions about the stranger, the Bishop, the princess his own sanity. No more now, no time. The scent in the smoke was strong, sulfuric, <i>rotten.</i> Domiel's stomach lurched. His borrowed sword drew sparks for an instant as the tip scratched the ground, clutched low and held back as he used his knees to guide Kitrain towards the burning wagon. Burning with green flame green flame. A shiver ran through him, through the whole of his being, his knuckles going white against the handle of the sword.
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| − | "Princess!" he heard himself call out as the fire-stag leapt agilely over debris. Cursed himself for a fool to call out like that, then did it again. "<i>Princess!</i>"
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| − | In response to Domiel, there was just the rush of the river.... where lie broken twigs. And the mud flowing up, in a flowing river. Someone just stepped through... and a messed bush. And diffuse screams through the river the wagon fell close to, in the woods...
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| − | Kitrain pulled up short and reared back as the wagon crashed into the river along the road, hooves flailing as Domiel struggled to forced the beast to be calm. Little assurance, when it felt as though his heart were trying to crawl it's way out his throat. Someone was screaming in the woods across the river. Man or woman, he couldn't tell, but it was the only sign of life around. " what the <i>hell</i> is going on?" Domiel twisted his lower body, forcing the Wyld-beast to turn towards the fallen wagon. Towards the screams beyond. Kitrain snorts as he wades into the shallow river, black eyes rolling in fear as it rises up his legs for a moment, then they're free, racing into the woods, trying to hone in on the terrible cries echoing through the desolate forest.
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| − | The forest blurs as haze around the Changeling for a moment that fades when he reaches a clearing... another slope down, a little waterfall no taller than himself and another little brook... a dead man lies closer to him than Domiel would ever want, reeking of the same oily smoke. Below, around the rocky brook, three men manage to pin down a regally-dressed maiden in the underbrush.
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| − | One clutches his sides, painfully, and the other two try to restrain her, dress torn, wings oily showing the lack of preening, long pale blonde hair falling on the dirt as she struggles against the men...
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| − | He pulled Kitrain into a gentle stop as they crest the edge of the embankment, standing just within the shadows of the tree line, and watched. Trembling in cold, in fear and confusion, he watched, feeling strangely detached from the scene bellow him as the figures struggled and twisted in the blurred half-light of dusk. Kitrain snorted and pranced suddenly. Away from something. From the bitter scent of death. Domiel blinked and looked down and stared into the eyes of the dead man on the ground beside him.
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| − | A cold hand slapped his cheek. From the depths of his soul, screaming out of that buried spark of golden fire, came the urge to ride into them with a flare of Essence and a battle cry to shake the Earth.
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| − | <i>No!</i> He bit his lip till he drew blood, clutching Kitrain's thick fur until the fire bitterly receded, cursing his cowardice. Domiel didn't care, he was unwilling to match pace with this madness anymore.
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| − | Quietly as he is able, Domiel swings himself from Kitrain's back and crouches onto the damp earth. He slides along the ground, a shadow of snow and ash, a dark mist falling over his vision, calling for the hunger and passion of his kin, for the indifferent joy.
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| − | <i>Go,</i> he silently orders the fire-elk, not looking up at Kitrain.<i>Hide.</i>
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| − | Liquidly, he rose to his feet and strolled down the embankment, indifference towards the scene he walked towards permeating every step. The smile that graced his face was maddeningly serene on his perfect lips.
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| − | "Gentlemen? Milady? May I have a word?"
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| − | Four heads turn to meet the fae-blood. Three thugs and a princess. There is no doubt of that. Hair so fine is not found in commoners, nor skin so fine, or wings so fine a few days without care show so.
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| − | No, there is no doubt. this is the body of someone who was pampered and cared for all her life, with the best there is. Her hair is a beautiful pale blonde, glistening like clear gold, and her eyes... a most unearthly and beautiful purple, the likes of which cannot be seen even in the prettiest amethyst, the touch of essence in her.
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| − | But yet, she is not the princess. Not the one Domiel had seen... not Elizabeth, the tomboy, the princess with eyes like hers', only on fire. No, this one, he had seen, if years back. The younger one, what she was now? Thirteen, fourteen?What was her name again...?
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| − | And there can be no doubt the men are thugs. Their faces common, haired, hardened by lives too tough and ordinary, by the daily torture of a life in a shadowland - what is easy enough to know by their pallor. One clutches at his side, but begins to grab for a knife. Another holds a piece of metal in a poor handle, big and sharp enough to be called a sword. And the third tries to keep the princess retrained... what seems to be a hard work.
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| − | Domiel stopped, eyes widening faintly in surprise at the men, and then narrowing. A voracious light glittered in his gray eyes, the serenity of his smile never shifting.
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| − | "Are you sure?" He spoke slowly, as soft as the hiss of a naked blade drawn across silk. Twisting his wrist, he caught a ray of sunlight against his borrowed blade, rolling it down the edge as if it were a pearl-drop of radiance he could balance on the tip of his sword. "Come now and think about it carefully, gentlemen. Are you <i>really</i> sure?"
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| − | === Disclaimer ===
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| − | Unfortunately, this part of the log was lost forever. Domiel humbles the poor Extras, and during it, discovers Carina has been Exalted as a Midnight Castes, while she uses her anima to smite the poor bastards to death side-by-side with him, the oily black smoke coming out when her touch of oblivion burns their bodies. She hugs her savior, like a damsel, and he holds her back knowing he is hugging a black scorpion full of poison. They are then surprised by men higher-up on the valley, with bows and swords and nemessaries. When they are ready to run a figure clad in soulsteel appears behind them, long black hair flowing as he moves like a whirlwind through them, killing each and every one and landing in front of them as their bodies explode in pieces... showing the familiar face of the Prince of Shadows.
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| − | The reason this is not reproduced, is because both I and Grey agree the original was cool. So I for one cannot try to rewrite it without second-guessing myself and knowing I did a pale imitation from it. There ^_^
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| − | === End Disclaimer ===
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| − | <b>Domiel Winterwing:</b> Domiel blinked. The first motion he had dared to make since the first arrow plowed into the ground before him. He had froze out of fear, surprise, sense, thrusting the princess behind him and waiting. He hadn't took a single breath. These men would kill him. Possibly both of them. His fingers dug into the arms of the girl behind him, ready to shove her back down the hillside. His awareness reached out for Ktrain, nudging him into place, willing him to wait and carry the girl away while he held them off for the brief, final seconds of his life. An Oath could not be broken.
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| − | And then, they had died. All of them. And Domiel was again frozen, watching numb and weightless as bodies fell one after the other. It was as if the world moved through a series of paintings, held one after another before his vision. Many men. Several men. Two men. One man, many corpses. Domiel could not recall even seeing most of them die. It was as if their bodies had suddenly split themselves in twain.
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| − | Blood was spreading across the road, raining from the sky. He was damp with it, though he had not taken a step nor so much as possessed a blade to draw it, but it was soaking his clothing now. Metallic and pungent. Everywhere.
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| − | The aspect of death spoke. To the princess, not to him. The Ashing Dove did not matter. This terrible figure could have killed him as easily as the others, and he would not have even noticed he was dead until his severed head stared back up at his body.
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| − | But this thing wanted the princess. To take her away. To who, to where, he did not know, but it was almost certainly not to Windia. An Oath could not be broken, no matter what.
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| − | So, Domiel blinked and retuned to motion. He blinked. He drew a shuddering breath and coughed.
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| − | "I am afraid," he began softly, having never spoken truer words. "That the ladies company has already been requested else where."
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| − | <b>Prince of Shadows:</b> "Oh yes. But not by you." He says, his voice soft as velvet. Blood trickling down behind him in obscene streams, he appears resplendent in his armor above Domiel. A sword is unmade in Void, leaving a free hand thus extended to the princess. "Mistress calls. I will take you to your destiny, Carina." He says, seriously, then smiles, "They won't touch you if I can help it."
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| − | <b>Carina:</b> Her eyes close. She hugs the Changeling tightly. Then she lets go. "Yes." she says, her voice both sad and determined, "I will meet my destiny." she steps towards the other Abyssal, half the way between the two men. "What of my brother? Mistress said he would be safe."
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| − | <b>Prince of Shadows:</b> "He is safe, for the moment. Both of them are. But the Bishop hunts for them, as he will for you. That's why you have to come with me. If we linger here too long..."
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| − | <b>Carina:</b> "So, he is not safe yet? He is not in my new home yet?"
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| − | <b>Prince of Shadows:</b> "Yes. But he will be there. Soon."
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| − | <b>Domiel Winterwing:</b> <i>No.</i>
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| − | Something in him was tearing, making it hard to breath the cold air, hard to focus. They spoke as if he were not even there. He wished he weren't, but he was and something was coming to pass that he did not understand, but hated from the same boundless passion that he drew love. Trembling, his slim, delicate musicians fingers curled into fists.
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| − | No.
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| − | She stepped towards that frightening apparition and he matched her pace for pace, an arm stretching out to stop her from taking another step. The Changling stared up at the pale, perfect figure above him, standing like a dark reflection of himself. He did not try to hide his terror, there would be no point, but nor did he look away.
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| − | "I cannot let you go, highness. Not yet and I will not let you take her, sir. Not here and now." A small smile creased his lips and he barely whispered his next words. "I found her first, you see."
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| − | <b>Carina:</b> She turns to Domiel, walking back to him and holding his arm, "But I want to go...." she says, looking at the figure behind her over her shoulder. "It was my choice. It is something I need to do... but, you saved my life. I won't forget that. May I know your name?"
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| − | <b>Domiel Winterwing:</b> "I saved your life," he answered quietly, not looking towards her. "That means you owe me, does it not? Or is royalty not bound to feelings of gratefulness?"
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| − | His smile blossomed, the mad confidence of a spawn of the Wyld. "And you," he called up to his Reflection, his voice growing stronger. Unheeded, a faint sparkle began to infuse him, yellow stars of shimmering fire swirling up from the ground around his feet. "Your 'mistress' owes me for that as well, does she not? That she has sent one of such obvious skill to escort the princess speaks much of the lady's value to your master."
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| − | "I only require her presence for a short time. Perhaps we could reach an accord?"
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| − | <b>Prince of Shadows:</b> "I do not believe we can reach any. But, what would you suggest?"
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| − | <b>Domiel Winterwing:</b> "She comes with me as far as Windia. Not into the city nor even to the gats. Just within the sight of it. I will consider my duty finished then. Afterwards, we are all free to do as we wish. You can take her wherever it is your mistress wishes. She can follow you at her leisure. I can go home with a clear conscious and clean my hands of any of this mess."
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| − | He shrugged faintly. "It seems a small enough price, for her life. You are more than welcome to follow us, but I've little time nor use for treachery in this. I simply wish to end what I have been made to begin and return to somewhere more pleasant."
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| − | <b>Prince of Shadows:</b> "I suppose." He says, shrugging. "It won't change anything in the long run."
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| − | <b>Carina:</b> "Wait!" She says, getting closer to Domiel, "Why...?"
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| − | <b>Domiel Winterwing:</b> "Because I said I would." The plainly spoken words, the look he gives her from the corner of his eye, both convey a sense of weight. Of volume. As if the answer were so obvious, it was a fools question to even ask.
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| − | Domiel had learned enough in this world that few people accept the value of a given word in the same way his kin-folk did. It was not in their nature and the answer never satisfied. The mask of mad confidence slips from his face for an instant, showing her the fear lurking, the uncertainty, and the sadness, before it rises into his smile once again in a casual shrug. "And if you need another reason, perhaps I'd care to experience the pleasure of your company in a setting in which we are not under threat of pain and death. I have the thought that when you go with this one, the chance for such moments will have passed for good."
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| − | <b>Carina:</b> "My chance for such moments is long past.... past after last week. There won't be any pleasantness anyway; At least, I will be able to make them suffer as much as I did. To pay them back." She says, smiling sadly. "My siblings still have that chance, though. And that's why..."
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| − | As she says that, she goes to her knees.
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| − | "You said you did this because you said you would... if I asked you to, would you do the same for them?" She says, her voice low so hopefully the man not too far from them would not hear, although certainly not low enough for it. "My older brother is like you... I will kill them for him; But I don't wnat to see him dirtied, I don't want to see him darkened... not by this company. I plead you, I beg you - will you promise me to keep my siblings safe?"
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| − | <b>Domiel Winterwing:</b> "I'm a musician..." he answered tiredly, her impassioned pleas making his body slump in weriness. "Why does everyone expect these things of me?"
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| − | But he sighs in defeat and nods his head slowly. "As you wish it, highness. I promise I will at least attempt to help your brother, as much as I am able. Now may we go? Please?" He no longer makes the effort to sound confident, to look the part of a passion-mad Wyld-born. He sounds and looks just like what he is, a scared, tired man utterly out of his depths. "I've no desire to be here any longer..."
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| − | ----
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/FirstMovement|First Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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