GoldenCat/LifeEchoes
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Echoes of Life
Cael: Cael sits on the bed with Anne, holding her with one arm, the warm blanket wrapped around her. In his other hand, he holds a thin book, that he reads to the girl.
"And so the king said to the great heroine, 'Your blade is indeed mighty, but you still may not marry my son!'
The heroine's amber eyes flashed with rage, and she looked as if she might turn then, and storm from the ruby court of the king, but she calmed herself, and spoke with a low voice. 'What, then, must I do to earn the hand of your son in marriage?'
The king smiled, and when he spoke, his voice held nothing but regret for the unfortunate circumstances that prevented the marriage. 'The town of glee, far to the East of my kingdom, it is haunted by the ghosts of the hungry dead, and they terrorise the streets at night. If you wish to ma-"
Cael stumbles over the words just briefly, as he remembers what time it is, and just what the Pale Angel brought on board.
She will be angry.
She will want revenge.
She will rise.
"to marry my son'
And the heroine's amber eyes flashed once more, and she said 'I shall go then to Glee, and I shall slay the monsters that haunt the night, and when I return, I shall marry your son, do you swear this to be true?'"
And then Cael closes the book, and smiles down at the sleeping girl, kissing her forehead, and gently easing her down to lie on the bed
"And you'll find out what the king said tomorrow, sleep well."
He sits up "Calisara my dear? Where is the Pale Angel, and where is the body she brought on board?"
Anne: Calisara begins appearing in front of Cael, her face still somewhat... absent, for earlier. For having missed a intrusion. For having let Anne be hurt.
Anne herself feels like in a dream... too early to sleep yet, if it wasn't for her wounds. Having lost so much blood, she just goes to him, kisses almost on his cheek... and falls to sleep.
Calisara looks at that in some sort of sad happyness, "Vorpal... she is just out of bath. I cannot believe, she spent a couple hours in it... and is coming here. And she... does not look happy."
"The body's in one of the hangars, and... wait, there is something there with it! It wasn't there just now..."
Vorpal: Idiot! Fool! Imbecile! Arrogant little bitch!
There are no words harsh enough for Vorpal to go through while she congratulates her own brilliant intelligence.
Nitwit! Moron! Twerp! Bright Morning for brains!
Her hands working with feverish speed to fasten the straps of her torso armor, the Pale Angel stalks down the corridor with all the tranquil demeanor of an average-sized thunderstorm. The bruises she had given to herself while in the clutches of her vision dark and angry stains against her white skin, her brow low and glowering, her teeth bare and seemingly ready to rip living flesh, it is oddly ironic to say that she is currently looking like the very ideal of a Hungry Ghost herself.
And a Hungry Ghost you should be! You, a Ghost-Blooded, an Abyssal Exalted, making a mistake like this! What in blazes were you thinking? Distracted by romance, of all things? Never again!
"Calisara!" she bellows, her voice sharp and loud like a clap of thunder in the corridors. "Get them down here! Now!"
Cael: Cael smiles absently at the girl, and smoothes the covers over her, then turns back to Calisara.
"Would you please get me my jacket from the cabin, and then come back here to watch over Anne?"
He stands, then ties the bathrobe a little tighter about himself.
Calisara: "In a moment, in a moment!" The voice sounds to Vorpal, and it seems to just as easily say, 'Calm down, calm down, don't break anything, pleeeasssseee?' "And them... well, I will get Cael, but the prince is... not available right now."
After sending her voice through the corridors, she goes through the walls fast as she can, coming back with said Jacket, "... here! You sure you want me to, though? I can materialize and help!"
Cael: "Thank you, dear." He kisses her ice cool cheek then slips the jacket on. "And you should stay here. I promised Anne she wouldn't be left alone tonight. If Vorpal and I cannot defeat her, I'm not sure what you can do ..." And you can't die. I don't want to think what would happen to the Zephyr if you did. Or to Anne.
Cael kisses her cheek once more, then runs for the door and down the corridor to the cargo bay.
Vorpal: The prince.... not available?
Vorpal's pace falters for a heartbeat at that point. If there had been a moment she'd have appreciated that warm light that hurt her eyes, it would have been now.
Then she lowers her head and pushes forth again, her stride twice as resolute as before, her boots banging against the floor as she goes.
Well, shit.
She'd just have to make do on her own, then.
The same as always.
?:: Cael gets close to the cargo bay, and begins to hear it. The screeching. The sound of something.... raking. At the walls. A sound like nails on a blackboard....
And then, the sound of Vorpal's heavy boots, as she meets him around a corner.
Cael: He rounds the corner her, slowing to match her pace, looking up and down the bruises on her arms briefly, then he speaks
"She's risen." he says softly. "She'll be powerful. And angry."
He finsihes buttoning the jacket over the bathrobe.
Vorpal: If Vorpal is pleased to see Cael's calm mien, she hides it well. Clad in little more than boots, gloves, a simple leotard and a soulsteel armor strapped hurriedly over it, she brushes past the Eclipse Caste with little ceremony. Her bared Daiklave swinging back and forth in the rhythm of her steps, she stomps straight in the direction of the eerie ghost sounds...
...and there once was another woman, born in another time, a woman whose soul held the same anger, yet whose fury was even more destructive when it was unleashed...
"Not a word", she hisses to Cael over her shoulder.
Cael: As you wish. he says silently, stepping down the corridoor after her, footsteps barely audiable above the screaming and the boots.
"Do we have to fight, or does your kind have techniques for dealing with those such as what she has become?" he asks as he walks.
Vorpal: "I'll deal with it", Vorpal growls in reply.
I'll stomp its ugly head to the mud, I will pry the fangs from its mouth one by one, I will rip the claws from its fingers...
"You just hold your kanji ready."
?: Cael remembers... holding her in his arms. She was so pale then, yet nothing like now. He remembers strong hands about him, wanting him, pushing him against the wall... and then going limp, strong and defenseless.... cries of pleasure, pleas of love. Pleas of love in tear-filled eyes...
Vorpal remembers, dancing on her mind, she feels herself as if moving, pining Cael against the wall. But not Cael. Not him, and yet him. She remembers desiring, so much. Wanting, so much. And there was more... it goes through her spine, a feeling of being defenseless, a feeling of need... for a moment, she feels as if they are both naked, body and soul, making love... and clad in sorrow. So much sorrow...
And then the claws go through the wall. Long as a rapier's blade, curved, pitch-black. They begin to rake down, going through the walls... so easily. Vorpal had seen such Hungry Ghosts before. She had seen them go through heavy soulsteel armor as if it was nothing. Armor heavier than the Black Queen's vestiments.....
Another clawed hand comes through. And it hisses as the hole begins to open enough so they hear the glass-breaking hiss in full...
Vorpal: You.
Vorpal halts. Her eyes burning, she lifts her chin, straightens her back, wrapping Essence around her bare skin the way mortals do with the finest royal velvets. The black sunburst of her Caste glints into being on her forehead and immediately cracks open, crimson tendrils of blood beginning to drip down her forehead.
I'm taking you down.
Cael: "Very ..."
Th pause is just an instant, as yet more visons of the man that he once was and is not and may become flow through him ...
With the Pale Angel?
Sati was the Pale Angel?
Does she know?
Does Tahira know?
Back to the present.
"..well." he finishes, stopping just behind her and to the side, scribing a warding against the hungry dead in the air, getting ready to cast it at the ghost should Vorpal's plan ... whatever it was ... fail.
Celebrant of Blood: Hand goes through the wall. Body goes through the wall. Strong. Stronger. Vorpal can hardly be so strong. Amidst the falling pieces, the form... skeletal as the Celebrant, but with black, floppy skin over the bones... eyes shining in red, as the long claws rake th ground, looking at Cael...
Cael had seen many Hungry Ghosts on his life. Wretched creatures. Animals. But this one... this one... it is looking straight to him. It thinks!
"Killleeerrr...." It says, glass-breaking voice as with the hiss, nails raking on the ground, mouth shark-toothed now... "I kill too...."
Cael: Cael smiles at the ghost.
A smug, victorious smile.
And then he sweeps a bow.
"I have killed you once this day, and I have no qualms about killing you again."
And then he straightens, and as he does, the quills of his anima rise about him, scribing characters around the wards in his hands, imbuing them with more power and then he hurls them, cutting through the air, a trail of silver sparks behind it, slicing through the flapping skin, aiming for ghostly tendons.
Celebrant of Blood: The strike hits it... and keeps there, as a ward. As a ward, it smokes on its skin. As damage.... it does not feel fazed. At all. As it if was... nothing. At all. A mere scratch.
It laughs. It laughs and narrows red eyes. "Stronger. Greater.... greater now.... feeelll it..." But the wards make it feel the weight as it moves towards Cael... bending time. Suddenly, it feels nightmarish, exploding in motion... so many arms of darkness, so many different red eyes, there and not there, the claws coming closer, closer...
Cael: Cael closes his eyes as the nightmare surges towards him, falling apart to golden words of warding against the ghosts that stalk at night, letting the first blow pass straight through him, collalesing once more into the white clad man, the blurring claws passing through his dreamlike flesh, leaving no trace of the blow, then he leaps back and away from the Celebrant...
Vorpal: The golden kanji flash past her, the hungry ghost barks out its horrible laugh. Madness erupts all around them, rage and pain, red eyes and inky darkness, the very air screaming in pain as the black claws slice through it a hundred times. The sky-pirate flows like blood, weaving masterfully his way through the thicket of death, dancing past every obstacle.
In the midst of it all, the Pale Angel stands, white and silent, her chest heaving in the rhythm of her heavy breath. She does not raise her blade against this enemy, nor does she drop into a defensive stance. Perhaps it is fear that weights down her arms, terror that ties her legs to the floor with invisible bonds of lead...
...perhaps...
She snarls.
....or perhaps not.
She lets out another breath, and then suddenly inhales deeply, liquid soulsteel stretching around her form.
"Shut your whining mouth!!" she screeches, her Essence-laden voice rising above the soul-shattering shrieks of the Hungry Ghost. "You are nothing but a filthy bug! A verming in the bottom of an Abyssal boot! Crawl back whence you came from, and never taint the same air I breath again!"
Celebrant of Blood: The ghost looks at her.... terrified.
A royal ghost, it makes a flourish first, a bow to Vorpal's command... and then retreats, as hastily as it can, once again hiding within the body that spawned it.
Vorpal: Vorpal stares at the Hungry Ghost as it retreats, driving it with her gaze, her eyes nor her will ever leaving the wretched thing until it has vanished back to the mutilated carcass that had once been one of the Bishop's Chosen Ones.
Then the ghost is gone, and a sudden silence follows.
Vorpal glares at the corpse, then suddenly she moves, marching through the hole in the wall and into the hangar...
...where she lifts one booted foot...
...and hurls a kick right into the Celebrant's face.
Cael: Cael steps through and after her, watching without a flicker as her foot shatters the woman's face.
"That ... was an interesting trick you pulled. One day, I will have to learn it from you." his voice is calming, though filled with respect.
"Thank you."
Vorpal: "It was my mistake in the first place", the Pale Angel growls in reply, still glaring down at the lifeless carcass. "I hate it when I make mistakes."
It is the greatest concession she has made about herself in a long while. She regrets her honesty almost instantly, regrets saying such words to a near stranger like the man behind him... And yet, she knows that she'd have regretted even more had she attempted to roll the blame onto someone else. "Are you sure you can't get Alex down here?" she asks, speaking with an almost calmer voice already. "He'll soon have a corpse to burn."
Cael: "A mistake I share with you."
Cael admits easily. You had to be honest with yourself, and it cost little to be honest with those you fought with.
"Alex is not going to be around til the morning. He had to work his own brand of healing magic on Anne after ... someone I knew long ago came to visit."
Vorpal: "Wellll, damn", Vorpal states, running a hand through messy hair. Her back she keeps turned to the Solar, avoiding eye-contact with the man.
She had been so filled with fury that the distant memories had almost slipped past her mind. But now, as her anger slowly subsides, leaving her cold and trembling, the memories, too, return, and the odd sensation of recognition... and lust.
"We will interrogate the Celebrant in the morning, then. You'd better get some salt down here. It won't hurt to be too careful, not after that."
Vorpal: She'd also like to ask him about this "visitor", too, but that would have to wait for another time. Right now, she just wants him out of the room.
Cael: What is bothing you Pale Angel?
Did you see what I saw, just before she emerged?
Now is not the best time to push, perhaps ...
Cael nods and departs "I'll be back down shortly... not that we have much onboard but ... It's best not to take chances with something like this, yes."
He walks off through the corridoors, to the storeroom for his occult accoutriments, hefting the small bag of salt, then turn back to walk to the hold ...
Vorpal: She relaxes slightly as he goes. Her shoulders shuddering, she lets out an immense sigh.
She turns away and suddenly staggers, her goo-covered boot almost slipping on the smooth floor.
Urgh.
Recovering her balance, she glares at her stained footwear for a moment before slouching next to the hole the Hungry Ghost had torn into the hangar. There she eases herself down onto the floor, leaning her back against the cold wall. Staring absently at the corpse of the Abyssal, she settles down for a long watch.
It may be her imagination, but the Celebrant's lifeless form looks somehow resentful, laying there in a silent and cold indination for how Fate has been treating her.
"You too, huh?" Vorpal says aloud, leaning her sword against her shoulder. "Well, join the sisterhood."
Night, even after that, is still eventful.
Vorpal receives a visit during the night - a Raven. A raven that speaks with the Dark Angel's voice. She speaks that they are within Whiteshield. That Moon was hurt, but otherwise, they have overcome the opposition. She speaks of what she found on the Spire - of how the Bishop intends to make a ritual to open a rift to the Labyrinth big enough for an army to pass by, one they have groomed for over a century. She speaks of how they are trusting the powers of their two Moonshadows to sow dissent amidst the courts of all nearby countries, making them xenophobic enough so that if their army loses, or even during the war, the enemy countries will just go at each other's throats.
She then speaks that she has shown herself. She has made her presence known in Whiteshield, and is currently avoiding pursuers, throwing the army within into a wild goose chase. And that the Pale Angel and her allies should come as a hammer from the north to hit hard on those hunting them within...
After that, the night passes, with dreams...
Dreams of a great icy landscape before Vorpal. Of being before a dragon of crystal greater than mountains. Dreams of talking to a goddess of blonde hair and translucent wings for Cael. Dreams of letting this goddess mark his skin and the essence of his power...
Morning came finally, then...
For Vorpal, with the sunlight hurting her eyes.
For Cael, with a playful kiss to his cheek, "Waky waky!" he heard Anne's voice say...
Cael: She's in my dreams now ... the sorcerress...marking my skin...wrapping the binds around my flesh, wrapping them around my soul ...<bri>Why did I let her?
What was the 'plan' that Tahira spoke of?
Who was I to the Pale Angel? Just a lover?
Then the soft light of the cabins in the morning, and Anne's playful kiss wakes him, drags him from his dreams of a different day, and he smiles up at her. "I'm awake ... I'm awake!"
Vorpal: "Nrrrrrrggggghhhhh.....!"
The bright light searing her eyes even through her heavy lids. The horrible headache. The stiffness of her limbs. Her dreams lingering in her mind as bad memories.
Vorpal hates mornings like this.
Anne: "Goooodddd Morning!" A plate is plaed before him, its support to either side of Cael's body, breakfast above it. "I hope you like... I talked Calisara into letting me do it, just for you!"
Cael: Cael smiles tolerantly at the girl, glad to see she's healed so well, in both body and mind, sitting up in bed, and looking down at the breakfast before him.
"Well, lets see how it is then."
He says and samples some.
Anne: The food tastes.... awful. How she managed to screw up such an easy breakfast is beyond Cael, but she did. It feels as if its poisonous.
And she stands there, eyeing him with expectant and dreamy eyes...
"Did you sleep well? Have any nice dreams?"
Cael: Cael smiles at Anne as he chews on the food, not letting a frown marr his smiling face as he swallows.
"I slept very well, and I had .... unusual dreams." he smiles at her, "How about you?"
Vorpal: It is true that in the mornings like this, Vorpal would rather just stretch out her arms and legs, roll to her side and pull the covers over her head. She even toys with the idea in her mind for a moment... but not seriously. Not this morning, at least.
The Abyssal Hearthstone she keeps in an amulet around her neck while not wearing her armor has been working throughout the night, recharging her reserves of Essence. Rejuvenated both in spirit and body, she swallows her laziness, swings her white legs over the bed's edge and lands her bare feet onto the floor with a very firm stomp. She stands up and, arching her back and lifting her arms, begins a series of stretches to loosen her joints and muscles. It has become an integral part of her morning rituals, the daily oiling of the one-woman war machine.
And she keeps her mind firmly in the matters at hand, the nightly message sent to her by the Dark Angel and the plans for the coming day. The troubling dreams and the strange visions of yesterday, these she keeps strictly out of her mind.
Anne: "I... I had dreams, yes..."
Swayed by Cael, she goes to his eyes, then looks down in a blush as she remembers her dreams, her sight away from wether or not he's eating or enjoying the food. "Very... nice dreams. You were in them..." She blushes even more, her eyes well away from the food..
Cael: "I was in them, eh?" He says with a grin, "Do you want to tell me about them?"
And how to get you to take cooking lessons ...
Anne: She joins her fingers, touching one another , fidgeting, her blonde hair falling over her face... "Hmmm... I... you would find them stupid... they are stupid. Don't... er... how were your dreams? You said they were unusual!"
Cael: Cael keeps on grinning at her as she fidgets "I'm sure I wouldn't but if you don't want to tell..." he gives a small shake of his head. "They were unusual ... I'm not sure they belong to me ... not exactly ..."
Anne: "How... how could your dreams don't belong to you?" She tries to look at somewhere other than his face as she fidgets, but ends up just looking at his body over the sheets, make her blush even more and then turn her face violently to the window...
You would, yes, tell me I just dream too much, like grandpa used to...
And he was right, this just isn't...
Cael: "I'm not sure I can explain it ... I'm not sure I understand my self..." he says to the blushing girl, standing and picking the tray up, getting out of bed.
"Now, are you sure you're not going to tell me about your dreams?"
Anne: "I... I...."
She gulps, gathers her courage, then looks at Cael... "I remember two... or were they one... in one everyone was there... we were walking through mountain passes close to my home... and it was very misty. I couldn't see anyone... I just knew that every time I was going to fall, one of you was there, to stop my fall and help me up. But then I kept losing you on the mist, and soon I was all alone.."
"And the other... we were... in a bath. It was you, me, and others... people around the ship now, and a few from before... but all those not us ignored us, they were just, like... as if they were background on the walls, and we, we... it was kind of... embarassing..." Her voice begins to vanish then...
Cael: Cael looks thoughful as she tells him of the dream, walking out of the cabin and along the corridoors to the kitchen, taking his time.
"Those are interesting dreams Anne, especially the first. You will tell me if you get more dreams like it?"
He makes no mention of the second dream, just smiles inside.
Perhaps in a year or two...
Anne: She follows him to the kitchen, nodding, "Yes... I will! Thanks for reading to me last night, too..."
Cael: "You're very good to read to." He says with a smile, handing the tray to Calisara at the entrance to the kitchen, with a smile
"Good morning Calisara, thank you."
He turns to walk from the kitchen
"Run along to your cabin now Anne, I need to get ready."
Then with Anne gone, he walks along ot his cabin, changing into clothing of silk, then walking out to find Vorpal
Vorpal:...but if the Moonshadows do their job well, then the other countries might even begin wars of their own, using the distraction of the Bishop's armies to broaden their own lands...
Cael finds the Pale Angel just outside the hangar where the Celebrant's corpse has been stored. Leaning her back against the wall, her form hidden into the folds of her cloak, she is obviously lost in thought, one of her hands rubbing absently at the very tip of her smooth chin.
I wonder if the Lover's Moonshadow...
She had never really been much into diplomacy - Vorpal had always been someone who led through her innate charisma and the strength of her will, not someone who fooled people with honeyed words. But when you got right down to it, diplomatic sabotage was just yet another form of warfare.
She looks up at Cael's approach, acknowledging the Solar with a little nod. "Where's Alex? He is needed for this."
Alexander: "You called?" The knightly boy calls, walking down a stair, coming from the opposite corridor as Cael's. "I just took a little too long to wake up, sorry... sleep was a little too good. After what last night, I had woken up with a headache that seemed like the Zephyr was inside a whirlwind.... and with all that happened yesterday, well..."
He healed fast enough to recover all the bruises from their training session, but he still had the cut across his cheek. Being on the receiving end of the War Machine's power was not something light, even for the frame of a Zenith caste... "Also, good morning, lady Lilith, lord Cael. Sorry for my lack of manners... did you Sleep well?"
Cael: Cael nods to Vorpal in greeting, walking up to her.
"And what is this?" he asks, curiously.
and why do you look so thoughtful?
"Good morning, Prince." he says, his voice warm "I slept very well thank you ... once we put a ghost to rest. I hope your head feels better now ...."
Alexander: "My head is a little better now. Still hurt all around... those things were very, very powerful. Worse beating than I took from the Dead Hand when I first met the Pale Angel...."
The prince says, walking inside the room. The illumination of the Zephyr shows the corpse of the Celebrant. Dress of blood dried on her, beggining to be fall away as its magic slowly fades, crimson dust on the ground beneath her. The Soulsteel mask still branded to her face, the crimson chains still wrapped in her forearms... "Soo... what now?"
Vorpal: "We shall interrogate her", Vorpal responds, moving past the prince. She circles around the Celebrant's still form, her eyes focused on the smashed-in face of the dead Abyssal. "After that, you can get rid of her corpse, Alex."
After a moment of thoughtful silence, she looks up at Cael. "Do you know much about artifacts, word-smith?"
Cael: "I know something of them, of course." he looks over the Celebrant's accoutrements. "It will take a little study to divine their purpose though."
Alexander: He stretches his wings, looking down at the Celebrant. "I will. Something about interrogating corpses still feels... wrong, to me, though."
Vorpal: Vorpal nods at Cael's words. "Then we shall get to work with them as soon as we decide our next course of action. We need to sort through her gear and see if there is anything we could use ourselves."
Then her gaze flickers over to the prince. "Think of it this way, then", she says with a surprisingly calm tone, "the answers we could get out of her could save the lives of many of your people."
Alexander: He paces himself aganst the wall, slowly so as to not hurt his wings.. "The artifacts will still be there when the body is burned, it is a quality of them, I found out when I claned that breastplate. Just begin it, then. I will be here if the body tries anything funny."
"... But take care, ither way."
Vorpal: "Don't worry", Vorpal responds, favoring Alex with a rare chuckle. "I think the corpse already tried its worst last night."
Suddenly she turns, her broad cloak sweeping, and nudges the corpse with the tip of her boot. "Wakey-wakey, darling", she calls out brusquely, "I'll wager you are just as eager to get this over with as we are."
Cael: "That she did. I hope." Cael notes, settling himself agianst the wall to watch this interogation with interest, curious of just how the Pale Angel will manage it ...
Celebrant of Blood: The skeletal woman opens her one eye, moving to a more sitting position. "Good Morning, Pale Angel. Or night, as it may be."
Her voice is calm, vacant. "I am impressed."
Vorpal: Vorpal seems obviously, perhaps even deliberately, taken aback by the Celebrant's choice of words. "Really?" She soon recovers her compsure, however. "So am I. This, usually, is the point where most corpses begin to go through their litany of ominous threats. You certainly take death better than the most, Celebrant."
Celebrant of Blood: "Before death, I was a prophet, Dusk. Walking through endless catacombs through endless years of endless prophecies... I saw much of the future then. Death... was always there. It is not something I am particularly concerned about."
"I spent a long time training my soul for exactly this... but of all deaths I had foreseen on this endeavor, in the hands of Valencia's Steeel Hawks, I had not foreseen an Abyssal general using fire and light against us. It truly impressed me."
Vorpal: "They always said I was too good." It is an evil smile that plays on Vorpal's lips for a moment, before she grows sober once more. "So what would you like to tell us about your fellow generals? How many Exalted does your master have in his service, and where are they right now?"
Celebrant of Blood: "About ten. Nine now, I would think... My master wanted this done, without fail. So he sent two full Circles. The Circle ofShining Whispers was the first. Asssassins, converters, preachers. Then us, the Chalcedony Legion. As far as I know, most of them are in Whiteshield now... a few are away. Waiting for the right moment, when the cold of death comes, I am sure you have heard of it."
Cael: "The Disciple, which Circle is he in?" Cael asks from his position on the wall, looking at corpse with a little curiousity.
Vorpal:...The Disciple? Vorpal lifts mental eyebrows, but remains silent.
Celebrant of Blood: "The Disciple? He is the Dusk, the assassin of the Circle of Shining Whispers. They are preachers, converters. They never needed a war maker. Their Dusk is an assassin. He compliments his companions well as that and a bodyguard. the Hierophant is truly the only of them who's overt, and even he is supposed to bring others in by force of his charisma, to crush peasants. Not countries. The vestal and the Parishioner are necromancy and sorcery... and the Prophet whispers together with the Vestal. Not warriors, but neverthless... dangerous. Maybe more dangerous than ourselves."
"Hmmm... you look very much like him, boy. No wonder you would be curious..."
Vorpal: Hmm...
While taking a moment to think about her next question, Vorpal casts an idle glance in Cael's direction, to see if the diplomat could give her any clues about whether or not the dead Abyssal is lying.
She regrets the deed, however, as the mental dam she has built for the bad memories suddenly threathens to break once again.
"Is the Vestal in Whiteshield right now?" She launches the question with some irritation, more than she had intended.
Celebrant of Blood: "I would not know, Pale Angel. The Circle of Shining Whispers, unlike us, well, sans our little harlot, they move around quite a bit. She could be whispering in Valencia's ear this moment, any other of Windian nobility, or bringing her 'word' to the noblewomen and goddess of Whiteshield. Who knows? They move around too much."
Cael: "We exchanged pleasantries in a garden not too long ago." he offers by way of explanation to Vorpal.
"So who, then, is in your Circle?"
Vorpal: Whispering in Valencia's ear? I wonder how the Dark Angel would take that piece of news.... Vorpal allows herself a mental smile as she slowly walks to the other side of the speaking corpse, silent and ominous.
Celebrant of Blood: "Curious, are you not? Pehaps you would rather I talk of the Disciple?"
"I have to ask later what he thought of you..."
"My compatriots? The General of Blood and Fire is our Dusk, the one who used to be Raegar Mailan... the Crusader should be our leader, our Midnight, but the presence of our Dusk caste is truly unnassailable..."
"I wish I could be there when you meet, Pale Angel." Vorpal heard of Raegar, of course. The man had frightened a good deal of the Northwest, taking even lands sworn to Whitewall. A name whispered with a similar sentiment as Vorpal's own...
"The Crusader Wielding his regret, the old man with a faith as great as mine own... the Acolyte, that sneaky brat... and the Admiral of Sorrow's Fleet."
"I have to wonder who will replace me in them."
Cael: Cael shrugs in a way that suggests that he is willing to wait to talk about the Disciple, unless the Pale Angel has no more questions ....
Vorpal: "I think I saw a bird made of ghost flames, leaving in the direction of Windia during our battle", Vorpal states and folds her hands over her chest. "Exactly what was that about?"
Celebrant of Blood: "Our little messenger. It was supposed to go off when Valencia struck us, to tell our friends in Windia it was time. but oh, it went off either way... and by now, I am sure, Windia is burning. Hierophant was supposed to lead that charge. But I believe they got someone else now... the Acolyte, pehaps."
Vorpal: Vorpal's warcraft-educated mind reaches out and grasps this new piece of information, immediately inserting it to the enormous board of Gateway she bears in her mind.
Windia might be burning right now...
A flip of a piece, slipping another to the next square --
...or maybe not. If they attacked now, and do not expect Valencia and her troops to be still around... she has the advantage.
But actually holding Windia against a shadowland that was within its own walls...
It all boils down to how well she lives up to her reputation. Vorpal arrives to this conclusion with a mental shrug. She'd actually have to check the situation in Windia to be sure.
"So what was he like when you met him?"
Celebrant of Blood: "Him....?" She asks, searching Vorpal's face in amusement, "And who are you talking about, Pale Angel?"
Vorpal: "Shame on you", Vorpal counters, leaning down to grant the corpse a poisonous smile. "Was meeting the Bishop such an easily-forgotten experience that you do not know who I am talking about?"
Celebrant of Blood: "Oh. The Shining Lord."
She smiles then, and her smile is terrible to behold. And yet, it is a smile of joy, of hope. "He is... seeing him is understanding. A single glance of his majestic form, and you understand. You understand life, and death. On his words, you understand the cruelty of heaven. You know your mission. You know why."
"I thought He was worth giving my life for, before I had ever met Him. When I did, I realised my understatement towards the True Lord of Death."
"My hope is that, one day, you will see the same, Pale Angel. And I hope to be there, smiling in joy at your side."
Vorpal: Vorpal stares at the corpse, her face an icy mask. Only her eyes are slightly wider than usual as she listens to the Celebrant's words.
And suddenly, she smiles. Not eerie, not ominous, not sarcastic, not even odd and mysterious. It is a smile that is not any of those certain ways most people are used to seeing the smile on the Pale Angel's white lips.
And she chuckles.
And she laughs.
It is not a mocking sound, or even an evil one. It is true, honest laugher, the sort that drives your lungs empty and makes tears well into your eyes. It is the laughter of someone who has just witnessed something so funny, so absolutely hilarious that she cannot help herself, nor hold her mirth in check.
When the echoes of her voice finally die down from the hangar, Vorpal sobs and raises a hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Thanks, but I'm sorry", she says genially. "Two times of dying is enough for me. On the third one, I'll head directly to the Oblivion."
Celebrant of Blood: "A pity. If you see him, you will live forever in death. Like me."
"A pity you do not feel like helping us to build a heaven of immortality. Just remember that everything dies. And I hope you are at peace when your time comes. And that you linger to understand."
Alexander: A hand lands on Cael's shoulder, and whispers... "The attack was last night, then. I trust we are heading to Windia...?"
Vorpal: "Everything dies", Vorpal repeats. "Yes, I know. That was the very first lesson I learned."
Turning away, she calls out sharply and without a warning: "Cael! Have your word with the corpse, if you wish."
Cael: Cael makes a small gesture to Vorpal as Alex asks the question, to suggest that it is something they will talk about.
He then straightens himself a little "So then, you mentioned it a little earlier ... what are you willing to tell me about the Disciple?"
Celebrant of Blood:.... and in response, the corpse stands, silent. Dead.
For a long moment.... and then, she smiles. "He is the finest assassin we have. He used to be one of the finest swordsmen on the north - the greatest rival of Rika Sanjuro, a powerful god-blooded... he had dueled with gods until sunset, and held his ground. He is as beautiful as he is deadly. And I could wager he is probably twice your age, boy..."
Cael: Cael nods to that "He was beautiful, yes. And deadly too. It was an interesting conversation."
He shrugs. "Thank you."
Vorpal: "Are you finished?"
Cael: "Unless she wishes to tell me any more, yes."
Celebrant of Blood: "I do not. Come and do what you will, Pale Angel... and let us see if my soul can pass yet another test."
Vorpal: "Gladly", Vorpal responds. "Tell my mother I said hello if you see her."
"Alex? Burn her."
- Cael tunes his vision to the spirit realm
Alexander: Alexander takes a step foward, pointing at her corpse... "Well, the artifacts will remain. You can pick them up, Lilith... but I would advise you a fair distance now."
His hand stops over the Celebrant's belly, and he closes his eyes. "Rest in peace.." He whispers... and glows. On a majestic moment he is the very word of heaven, burning her and sending her to a better life, unmaking her body and her dress in golden fires, searing clean the scent of the room, making everything cleaner, brighter. And when the golden fire dies, nothing is left of her but her crimson chains, her soulsteel mask.... and her soulsteel skeleton.
Celebrant of Blood:... and in the remains of her body... Cael sees her. Different now, as she was before her death, the comely woman she had been so long ago. She spreads her arms, and smiles. "I succeded, my lord. I persevered. I am eternal in death, as you wished!" She cries, in joy.
Cael: Cael smiles at her then, and writes a complex pattern on the air, scribing the swirls with all four fingers, writing the word that will eat a ghost whole.
And then, silently, he casts it at her, watching as it splits, the characters that make up the word each weapons of their own, drinking her down.
Celebrant of Blood: ".... oh, dear." She says, as it comes towards her, the light...
Searing her, unamaking her, draining her of power, and giving her soul to Cael. Destroyed. Utterly. Beyond Oblivion or Heaven, simply drained to the Solar's shard.
Cael: Cael nods. And fights down the temptation to lick his lips.
Vorpal: Vorpal frowns at the sudden assault made by Cael against the empty air. "Don't tell me she --"
Cael: "She did. And so I ate her soul."
Vorpal: "Ah."
Vorpal sighs. Two bad slips within as many days.
Alexander: ".... You ate her soul...?" He was a Solar, like him. And yet....
"Well... what now?"
Cael: "If she was willing to pass on, then there would have been no need. She stayed despite your blessing, and so she had to go. She had her chance."
He says to Alex, then nods "What ae we to do now? I feel we should investigate Windia, though ... if they have started, I am not sure what we could do interfere."
Vorpal: "Valencia was probably aware all along that if she moved her troops out of Windia to meet the Celebrant out on the field, other forces would move in to occupy her city", Vorpal puts in, folding her arms and leaning lightly against a wall. "That's why she has not made any moves. She sacrificed the surrounding lands in order to protect the city."
Alexander: "We just stopped an army. We will stop another if need be."
Vorpal: "I was contacted by the Dark Angel just last night. It seems they have been busy in their end, too." After this, the Ghost-Blooded proceeds to tell the others what she had learned from Selina's message, about their journey to Boil and the Moonshadows sowing discord to the neighboring nations.
"Whatever is the case", she says after finishing, "I don't think we are needed in Whiteshield just yet. Therefore", she shrugs, "we could just as well go to see what is the situation in Windia. I was meaning to check on the shadowland there in any case."
Celebrant of Blood: And then... it moves.
Out of nowhere, fast as it can be, moving in an unnatural, wrong way, it jumps up...
The skeleton moves, red lights on its eyes.
Jumping towards the Pale Angel, far too fast, like a spider springing on her prey, it jumps, hissing, bone-clawed hands holding the Pale Angel's neck and pressing...
Vorpal: It is a reflex honed by years of survival - an immediate response to an attack she cannot counter by any other means, an all-or-nothing shot that is made and then hoped that it works.
With a whoosh of ethereal wind, the Pale Angel turns immaterial.
Alexander: Alexander moves back, unsheathing Ainerach and exploding with sunset light, getting ready to strike the creature down...
Cael: "We stopped an Exa-.."
Then the skeleton moves, and Cael leaps backwards, placing some distance between himself and the construction, wondering if his Kanji can actually do anything to it's functioning...
Vorpal: "This is getting ridiculous", Vorpal hisses, her eyes narrowed as she dances backwards, away from the automata's reaching claws. "Isn't this the fourth we have to kill you?"
Persistent like a bug. A woman after my own heart, I suppose...
Celebrant of Blood:.... and then, its soulsteel head cut off, the automata falls, the head bouncing with a heavy mettalic sound on the floor....
Alexander: Alex sighs in relief, letting his sunset aura die down... "Nasty surprise, there..."
"And about Whiteshield.... they say they are making them disorganized there. But you heard it. Nine Abyssals. They have more of the Dead Hand, and each and every one of them is powerful - Lilith and Aine exausted themselves in them, with my help. It was a close call. If we meet them with Abyssals..."
"Lets go to Windia first. We need more power before fighting that..."
Vorpal: Vorpal looks up from the automata. Slowly rising up from her fighting stance, she responds: "Yes, we shall do just that. And Cael, we shall take a look at these artifacts she left behind, you and I. I don't want any more surprises with the Celebrant's tag on them."
She pauses, then glares down at the automata once again.
"Not worth even a Charm", she snarls after a moment.
- - Back to Second Movement
- - Back to A Dance of Angels
