GoldenCat/DarkWinds
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Dark Winds
After so long... so many weeks, under rain and winds, and even snow... Windia finally, finally, came within their sight. Standing proud above the mountain, its walls tall and pristine, decorated with the birds and wings and angelic servants of the sun.
Amidst the mud and the rain, Millia holding the unconscious, soul-wounded little prince on her arms, the two deathknights and the pillar of heaven pushed on... gone they have through valleys, and plains, mountains.. through the bordermarches, through rivers of honeyed wine and trees of crystal, with the eye of a deathlord always vigilant over them. The Raitons flew over their heads, the eyes of dead men spying through them. More than once, ghosts assalted, and more than once, they had their corpus slashed to oblivion by blades of Heaven and the Underworld.
Mostly, they were silent. At times, Millia cried, and at times... Alex talked. But he was not quite Alex... speaking with a voice older than the Realm, his eyes looking at Selina and Vorpal, knowing them from ages back, speaking in an old tongue to the memories inside the angels...
....After pushing into the Kingdom of Winlandia, they saw devastation. Villages burnt and slaughtered.. and, with the most detail, carried with religious importance... temples burnt, the idols of the Cult of the Illuminated, of the Immaculate Dragons and of the many minor gods of the North shattered with equal ease. But the responsibles for it were long gone, and days later, the mountain was on sight. The great metropoli as visible on it as the green on its side or the snow on its peak, its windmills moving eternally and making the winds sing...
Selina De Windia: Selina disguses herself as a merchant to approach the town unnoticed, makes Vorpal one of her hired thugs, and Alex her kid. She says she’s lost her wagon to these horrible marauders
Windia: The gates are simply... filled. The guards patrol above, trying to prevent people from coming in without passing through the gate and customs, and there are simply _too_ many people - refugees from a few of the little villages or from Whiteshield, amidst a caravan and the regular flock of people, beggining to set up tents all around...
Vorpal: "This will be a slaughterfield when the armies arrive..." Vorpal mutters quietly as she leads Ice and the youths riding it through the crowd...
Selina De Windia: No longer wearing her greatcoat, but clothed in a dark blue traveling gown, high-necked as to hide her leotard, her wings and hair dyed white and fiery red respectively, Selina moves over to Vorpal and says in a low voice "Perhaps they should split up from us before we enter, we can meet them after we're inside." All her items stashed away in a bag, bigger inside than in the outside...
Vorpal: "I think it is me who will stand out from the rest of you", Vorpal responds equally softly, surprisingly matter-of-fact with the Dark Angel for once. Her red eyes scan their surroundings, her hood carefully drawn low to cover as much of her albino skin as possible. "With the dead stalking throughout the land, they will not be very eager to let a Ghost-Blooded into the city."
Selina De Windia: "There's plenty of mercenaries of all types here right now, you should be able to get in." Selina replies equally matter of factly, placing her hand on the hilt of her rapier at her left side. "You're my hireling, for now."
Selina also has some papers she got forged awhile ago at some expense that identify her as Nellens Adriana, who lives in Port Calin and has a minor trading business, with papers for those. she will also identify herself as a half-breedAir Aspect to put off any suspicion about her pale skin. She can pay entrance fees, if there are any (probably shouldn't be right now) in either guild standard silver, or jade realm standard.
Vorpal: Vorpal relies on her cloak - technically, she has been in a disguise all along here, so...
Windia: Time goes by. A day goes by. Then, their time come to stand before the customs, the papers are handled, the fees, not very high as Selina had guessed, paid, and so, they come within the city of Soaring Winds....
Selina De Windia: Looking about the refugee crowded streets, Selina thinks on what to do next.
"Hey", Vorpal turns her hooded head, to look over her shoulder and up at the youths atop Ice's broad back. "Do you know anyone in this city who can take you in?"
Alexander: "Now we go to Upper Windia... we have a Manse there. Where can I get this damned dye off my hair, though? It's sticky."
Selina De Windia: "It's magical, leave it alone, I paid alot of money for it." Selina hisses close to him as she leads them off toward the manse, having a vague idea of where it is.
Windia: You walk through the streets of Windia, as crowded as in any celebratory holiday, filled with people and gossip, from the reality of what happened to Whiteshield and the country to zany theories and rumors... the city burstling with activity as the windmills sing above you... and, soon, you get to the Holysword's Manse in Windia, closing in its great ivory walls.....
Selina De Windia: "This is it, yes?" Selina murmurs, looking at the manse before them. Remembering she lived in one, all those years ago...then turning to Alex to watch his expression.
Domiel Winterwing: He could have gone inside. The manse was a welcoming place, he knew. Domiel wasn't sure how to face those who lived within though, or what to tell them. So, instead, he waited, sitting against the white outter walls of the estate, fiddle untouched on the ground beside him, clothes stained with dark brown splotches. Another begger at the gate.
Alexanderl: "It is." Alex smiles, getting off the horse, walking towards its great gates, images of moonlit wings on the Sun's halo on golden and silver at its gates.. the power is evident, the sense of awe of being so close to a place of concentrated power... resonating with the gem on Alexander's sword. "Finally... it is."
Selina De Windia: "Uh....huh." Selina states somewhat warily, sighing at the prospect of staying in such a place. "I do believe I'll be staying at an inn." Glancing about, she looks at Vorpal for confirmation, and at the other two on the horse.
Vorpal: "End of the ride", Vorpal grumbles as she moves to Ice's side to help Millia down from the saddle. For a reason or another, the Ghost-Blooded suddenly seems to be in an oddly cranky mood - perhaps because she plays a part as the Dark Angel's hireling, perhaps because of the close proximity of the Celestial Manse, perhaps because of some other reason.
Domiel Winterwing: So much traffic on the street and voices rising in the city, it takes Domiel a moment to even realize someone has peeled away from the pack and approched the manse. The musician turned his head up slowly, hooking the curtain of his hair between two fingers and parting it to look out upon a figure that is hauntingly familiar.
"... Carina?" he whispers in disblief, but realizes his mistake quickly enough. The features, though, are too similiar for him to be anyone else.
Dirty and tired, the begger by the gate hoists himself slowly to his feet, plucking the scoffed instrument by his side off the ground, and walks slowly towards the young man.
"... Alexander or Cedric?" he says suddenly, keeping his voice hushed and his face half-hidden behind the veil of oilly gray hair. Alexander: The sword on his hand before he cared to think
Pointing at the stranger an celestial daiklave, his deeper-than-amethyst eyes narrowing, "Who are you?!?" Vorpal: "Put that thing away", comes a razor-sharp snap from Vorpal almost immediately after Alex had drawn his blade...
...she really is in a bad mood!
"You might hurt someone with it." Selina De Windia: Finally, at civilization once again, Selina welcomes the chance to sleep in a real bed, and not have to stand on watch every night for nemissaries or ghosts or bandits or...
Other deathknights. She thinks sourly.
At until now, she had been doing all of those things. And she is tired of them. Very tired of them. It had all gone wrong with her plan, ever since that other deathknight had shown up at the caravan.
The thrice-damned elites didn't help matters any more.
"I'm going to enjoy this..." She murmurs to herself, then looks at the apparent begger at the wall of Alex's manse as the boy returns his greeting. Domiel Winterwing: His back stiffens as the point of the sword waves before his face. Not a position he has not been in before, not even one he hasn't been in with this specific sword before, he remembers with faint amusement. Never a place he cares to be, though.
"You may wish to listen to the lady, highness" the Ashing Dove smiles nervously, lifting his bow and pressing it against the flat of the boy's blade as if willing it to lower. "It does little good to disguise yourself and then wave your fathers sword around. Ainerach is nearly as well known in this city as your family." Alexander: The flash of light was subtle, the moment quicker than the blink of an eye. The Daiklave in its sheath, hidden beneath a white cloak they had gotten while on the road. The prince’s hands never reached to it, the cloak never fluttered on the winds to reveal a Daiklave. And yet, it was on his hands, covered in golden motes of Solar essence, its impossibly sharp blade shining with the light of the maidens. It should not be there. But the Zenith’s will overcame reality, and his essence made it be so. And so, there it was, an inch from the throat of the beggar, in front of the gates of Ivory.
So beautifully inlaid with gold and silver, shining so strinkingly under the rosy colors of Twilight.Twice as tall as the tallest among them, they stood, creeping plants arranged neatly, covering all but the exquisite work of pictures in releve, half-statues carved in pearly stones, the imagery of the Uconquered Sun, Luna and the Maidens, their symbols and their forms, dominating it along with wings, feathers, blades, warriors and creatures under their blessings...
Once upon a time, Selina knew, there would be no beggars in Upper Windia. Clean streets, paved in stone, the arrangements of its trees beautiful as it was perfect – as much as the parks, as every street was part of a collective garden of the upper class. But now, with the refugees coming in, and the guards too busy trying to minimize attempts to come into the city illegally and trying to prevent the tent-town forming outside from becoming the haven of sordid crime so common in these situations, beggars clustered on the immaculately clean streets of the rich and noble.
All walls as far as one could see where just as high, all manors with the many floors towering even above walls so tall, trees even taller. And, in this part of the city, exotic, taken from a multitude of places around Creation, grown specially tall and large with sorcery. But of all the manors in this neighborhood, only one was a Manse. And they are right in front of it. Not only can they just feel it, but its excess magic makes the Sun, Moon and Stars shine with their own luminescence, made the blades and eyes of the pearl warriors shine with nobility.
The beggar stood before them, yet... clearly not a beggar. Coarse features not hiding the beauty Vorpal had seen only in the Lover’s favorites, and yet they were... like looking at a dream, like looking at a beautiful angel in the Wyld, so unreal as to be disturbing in its allure... his words did change Alex’s mien, from that of a scared, hissing cat to that of a confused boy... and yet, he did not lower the blade, and their luck was only that few were around to witness the legendary Daiklave that should be grounded beneath the darkness at the borders of the country... and the staredown of angels.
Strings of familiarity ring in their souls, eyes faintly familiar gaze upon each other, as a foreordained meeting comes to pass... without any of the aspects that had been foreordained.
Domiel Winterwing: "Just put it away slowly, Alex," Domiel said. The shaft of his bow pressed gently against the blade, but the musician did not try to move the blade as much as move himself, taking a step to the side and his throat away from that nasty point.
"I doubt," he continued, smiling faintly, and rubbing his throat where the blade had hovered. "That Carina would be overtly pleased with either of us if you cut my throat within the first minute of our meeting."
Alexander: "Carina...?" He asks, eyes blank for a moment.... trying to put together something simple, but as strange as if he had been told the sky was dark green instead of blue. The moment passes, and his eyes narrow, aflame in urgency, "How do you know my sister?Where is she?!?"
Vorpal: Vorpal shakes her head, silently. Deciding to switch into a more laid-back role for a change, she swallows her curious annoyance and contends herself to brushing and patting her war horse, ascertaining that everything is in order with the beast, while keeping both an eye and an ear open at the conversation that is taking place.
Selina De Windia: "Hrmph." Selina snorts, then turns as if to leave the little gathering before she loses her wits. Being close to that...odd manse...wasn't helping. "If there is nothing further, I will be seeing you later."
Smoothing her dark blue traveling gown as her dyed fiery red hair and white wings blow in the wind slightly, turquoise eyes looking anywhere but at the damned manse. Now it is Selina who is beginning to lose her temper. "I have a few people to...visit."
Domiel Winterwing: He took a step back and raised his hands pleadingly. "Calmly, Alex... calmly..."
Domiel allowed himself a furtive glance towards the street. The stranger had promised him safty from the Baron's anger, but he hardly trusted that. A man doesn't easily forget the disgrace of his wife sharing her bed with another. It had been hard enough to get to this point, without having someone recognize him and go scampering off to turn him in.
"I'll happily tell you all about it, if you'll find the patience to attend to somewhere less public. We do not want nor need an audiance."
Vorpal: "Before you go", Vorpal says without turning her hooded head from the horse, her words obviously intended for Selina. "Are there any good inns in the near vicinity here?"
Alexander: Alex's eyes would follow Domiel's, if he knew what to look for. If he begun looking around, he would end up looking everywhere and anywhere, nervous as he was... but wary. Wary all the same. The Daiklave made its way tentatively to its sheath, covered then by the white cloak, but the prince's eyes didn't leave the stranger. "No... suppose we don't."
He had been just as wary by looking at the two strangers he traveled with, but in their case, he was sure they would not harm him, from the way they met... and, until now... he had no choice.
"Not afraid I might run?" He asks as Selina departs.
Getting off the horse, the little boy firm against her chest, Millia walks towards Alex, startled... relief coming to her face as he puts the blade away...
Domiel Winterwing: "Yes. Quiet."
There is a healthy amount of relief in his voice as Alex puts the sword away. Another touch to his throat. Then the Changling relaxes visably, examining the Prince's companions each in turn and listening to their exchange curiously.
Selina De Windia: "Yes, there's one not far from here," She gives Vorpal the information about it. "We'll meet there in two hours."
At Alex's question she simply regards him coldly, then purrs with almost disturbing malevolence. "Try and run from me, little Solar. Like all the others who didn't get very far." A peal of clear, almost bell-like laughter follows that, as she remembers most of them. "Adieu."
Vorpal: The Pale Angel watches the exchange between Selina and Alex with what could be called polite interest - like all self-respecting artists of class and quality, Vorpal, had a keen eye for various nuances and techniques of intimidation. Therefore, instead of actually listening to threats themselves, she tended to reflexively estimate other people's performances in an objective manner, similar to how a poet analyzed another author's technique and style.
"You will be all right from now on?" the Pale Angel then asks from Millia and gathers Ice's reins to her hands.
Millia: "Yes." She says, looking at the form of the taller, stronger woman with concern, her face betraying all the fear she has contantly lived over these last few weeks... "You will be leaving us too, right?"
Domiel Winterwing: A woman purrs and it's practically a summons to all Domiel's senses. His attention, the moment before focused upon the sleeping prince and the young girl who held him, swung unhesitatingly towards the Windian woman, and remains there even after she turns away. An open and unabashed stare, a sweeping of features, her body. A look to drink in her every detail.
Predator.
A familiar sensation of danger, even if her words had not carried such implications on their own. But she was fascinating simply to look out inspite of that and held him in rapt attention until she departed.
Beauty and danger. It seemed as though the world were incapable of making them exclusive of one another, from his experiance. Still... this one would haunt him.
"Curious company you keep, Alexander..." he said softly. "And I had always believed I was alone in having friends who placed threats on my life regularly."
Vorpal: "Mm-hm", Vorpal responds nonchalantly. "There are things that need to be done."
Seeing the fear on the girl's face, the Ghost-Blooded mentally shakes her head. Don't tell me you really want us to stay longer...
It would all be over for the girl soon. Once both the Abyssals and their Solar charge had left the city, the main source of fear for Millia would go away and - with any luck - she would get to taste a little bit of peace before the city would be engulfed by the stream of refugees seeking shelter from war...
Alexander: He grits his teeth, but says no more, looking at Selina leave... and then giving a sad sort of smile. Standing close to the gates, and in front of Millia and Cedric, protectively, the prince replies, "They are not my friends. They are my jailors." He says as Selina vanishes, "And on my life? She tried to keep my alive now, so if it was, it was hollow...." His hands curl into fists inside the cape at such mention, and at the memory that they were just escorting him... nothing but a pawn, a good to be traded, hunted game.
Trying not to let this fill his mind, he looks at the huge portals... then back at Domiel. "Suppose you go with them, and come back when they do, right..?" The lack of something. A word, a word that should've been there... "What is your name?" He asks, politely as he can, but dropping it next, "Who are you?"
Millia: "I see...." She says, relief breaking on her voice. To be away from the opressive presence of the Abyssal was a great relief... and they were in Windia, after all... no chance of what struck them before, able to overpower her prince, could strike again... right? Right?
Domiel Winterwing: Not friends. Jailors.
The sad expression on the young prince's face was only another painful similarity. They were siblings, Domiel had to remind himself. It only made sense they would look so much a like. Fate did not seem much inclined to allow him the lesiure of forgetting Carina and the world she traveling to become part of.
"There are worse things to be than dead," Domiel said, not as much a reply to Alex as a thoughtful murmer to himself.
The boy continued and the Changling answered dryly. "That entirely depends if 'they' are going somewhere I can get a bath or not. Elsewise, I am saddling you with my company wither you like it or not." Looking down at himself, he plucked at the soiled shirt distainfully. "I'll use your garden foutains if I have to, but looking like... this has served it's purpose long enough, I think. I grow tired of smelling like a old stable."
And one more question. The boy was full of them. "Gasper. Gasper von Reigis, of Northwind. Humbly at your serivce, my prince... though you'll forgive me if I refrain from bowing at just this moment."
Alexander: The mention to bathing in the fountains and suchlike made Alex smile, his waryness beggining to recede... "Well..." He says, trying to avoid his eyes. Something about him... even dirty as he was, he looked... honest, right, the sort of person you would talk to... and yet... there was something just wrong with him as well.
Like he wasn't quite real.
"Hmmm... well... they are going to that Inn, right?" He says, now more uncertain than strict, "But if you want..." part of him damned him for suggesting such. But what the hell...
Millia: Millia Gust giggles at Domiel's words, her features relaxing slightly...
Domiel Winterwing: Mmm... yes. I suppose it depends then, now doesn't it?"
For the first time, Domiel looked at the second woman in the group and smiled, bemused, as he looked her over. This was almost beginning to be a spectacle itself. Was there such a thing as a plan looking woman anymore?
Domiel declined to ask that question of anyone else, at just this moment. Instead, he took a step towards the pale mercenary and held a palm out to her. "What say you to this, milady? The good prince has offered me invitation to his hospitality. Would you take my hand and offer me the same?"
Vorpal: For the first time on her part as well, Vorpal truly turns to face this stranger who treats princes and Ghost-Blooded in such a companionable manner. Not an everyday messenger, was he?
Her red gaze has always been a powerful instrument to affect other people's impressions of her, especially when contrasted by her white skin. First impressions were always important, and therefore she lets her gaze fall heavily on the man, inspecting this... von Reigis from head to toe.
She allows the silence stretch for a moment, to let the man stew. And she does not make a move to grasp the offered hand.
"I do not pay bills for strangers", she finally responds.
Domiel Winterwing: "Ask the stranger for remuneration for your hospitality then," he shrugs, letting his gaze drop but not his hand. He knew enough if he knew not to try to hold that gaze for long. Bravery was over-rated, when you had no cause to fight for.
Looking almost bashful as he stands before her, dull silver hair falling over his face, the Ashing Dove makes a small, helpless gesture. "My value is quite small, milady, but desperation could drive a man to anything. You may be surprised at the service a stranger could provide..."
A pause. A breath. He risks another look into her scarlet gaze, meeting it through the curtain of his hair. He slowly holds out the fiddle and bow between them. "I have been told I am not wholly unskilled at what I do."
Millia: "Ooh, do you play? Do you sing as well?" Millia asks, the closeness of the gates, pouring celestial essence making her less afraid...
Alexander: Alex keeps silent, but every word makes Domiel more harmless under his eyes, and the prince's demeanor less overprotective...
Vorpal: "I thought you did not want any audience today", Vorpal states and suddenly turns away from Gasper. Beginning to lead her horse down the street towards the inn, however, she gives the performer one more glance over her shoulder. "I do hear it is a public inn, though, so I suppose I cannot stop you if you wish to come there..."
"Boy", she then calls out to Alex, not even bothering to look at the prince, but rather favors him with a vague wave of hand. "Come there as soon as you are finished with your own matters."
Alexander: "I shall. But..." A step. The flutter of his cape, and Alex was close to Vorpal, holding her arm, his eyes trying their best to seem professional... "Try to keep him safe. If he does know of my sister..." his hand shines golden for a minute. A thousand threats come through his mind, a thousand ways of making her do it... "...Please."
Domiel Winterwing: "Some matters demand an audiance, milady," he answers quickly, straightening as she turns away. "Others do not. We can discus the finner points of such nessessities at length, another occation."
He was already turning away himself as she called back, but answered her with another shrug. Perhaps, very likely if he were to be honest with himself, he would be at that inn later. Without a coin to his name though, it would do little good to present himself there in his current state of appearance. "Alexander, If you would be so kind as to direct me to your nearest fountain, I can begin the business of making myself a touch more presentable before taking the lady up on her generious invitation."
Vorpal: Feeling the prince's hand on her arm, Vorpal turns back to the boy with a sigh. There is a moment when a pained expression flickers over her face - Why are you asking me? - but it is quickly snuffed out and replaced a bit more familiar mien for her - one that politely seems to demand Alex to remove his hand, while it is still attached to his arm. The overall effect, however, is somewhat mellowed by the little word all too many people tend to completely forget.
"We'll see", she says. It is not a promise, but not an outright denial, either.
Alexander: Alex leaves Vorpal, walking back to the wall, close to the colorful essence and the power that resonates so deeply with himself, as it makes him strong, as it makes him agile, as it makes his body perfect due to gem on his sword.
He tries. He does. He really, really does. But... it is useless. No way he can remain serious against him... he is not a threat. He just can't be.
And he is so... familiar!
Inside a blood-stained pocket on his clothing, there was Jade. The few he had there during the attack, that he never had the chance to spend... he takes it off, letting it fall on Domiel's hands. Temerary, as he had no idea if he really would have any money at home, and the couple cois of Jade were already good enough for few days in Upper Windia... he could not just bring the man in. Not here, not now. Not alone, not with so much to do, so much to let out.... dut he could do this much.
Of course, the fact he never had to worry about money before unless he was far from home might have played a part, specially now that he was close to it. "There. Do take a good room at the Inn, and a great shower. And be there when I come. Be there to tell me... "
Vorpal: With the others' attention distracted elsewhere, Vorpal risks an angry shake of her head as she walks down the street, as if to drive away an annoying wasp from buzzing around her skull.
It is, in fact, an attempt to clear her head from some irritating thoughts that had been bizzing inside her skull for the past several days. Taking a young and pretty Solar boys to the Lover, holding a sleeping child in her arms, having to look after a young and frightened girl and now getting asked to look after this suspiciously charming fellow who claimed to know about the prince's sister... All this, when put together, had caused some odd feelings wallow inside her lately...
By the burning blood, what's wrong with me?
Domiel Winterwing: The coins in his hand felt like shackles. He could hear each one clink as they fell into his palm and feel the weight settle heavier upon his shoulders. His smile faded. The aura of good cheer and self-denial that had held him up for so long now simply drained from his body.
"I will. Thank you, my prince, your generosity humbles me..." The words were true enough, but they came without spirit. First the boy had begged for Domiel's protection. Now he gave the Changling money from his own pocket.
Damn it all...
He walked away without further word, simply turned on his heel and strode silently in the path the Ghost-Blooded mercenary woman had made by her passage. Domiel had been told only too recently that he was scarcely a decent human being. This was true, damningly so, now that he had just met someone who was.
Damn, damn, DAMN IT!
People had cleared a path for the Ghost-woman, but a dirty beggar in stained clothes did not warrant that kind of respect. People jostled him and elbowed him to and fro. Domiel quietly let them. There was music drifting in his mind now, something to play tonight. Hopefully to earn his keep well enough to pay the Prince back. He despised debt and tonight, he was suddenly feeling as though he owed the world itself something to repay the kindness of his continued existence.
Damn it all! Damn Anina and damn Carina and damn that bloody stranger... I should have just gotten drunk and passed out in the garden...
"I'm just a musician" he sighed to himself as he approched the inn. "I want to go home..."
But home felt very far away.
Prelude to Darker Winds...
Selina De Windia: Moving off from the group, Selina makes her way down the cobblestone streets of the capital's noble district, thinking to herself of times long past.
Too long past.
When she lived here, when she learned here, when Windia was still to be her city. No more. Not since her abominable acts.
Who rules it now, the Durants?
We shall see.
She passes her old manse, stopped for a few minutes to look on it before continuing, remembering the days before any of it came to pass, before she was Accursed. Before she became the Kinslayer. Before she sold her name to the dead gods.
None of that...really mattered now, she supposed. It was over and done with. Nothing she could do.
The Windian turned once she got to the graveyard of Windia's great, no longer caring if someone marked her, saw through her disguise. Let them come.
Let them all come. She thought, walking past the gates after a nod to the gatekeeper. Not many were here today, in the wake of that little invasion, no one wanted to be around more death. I am not the helpless little girl I was once.
She came at last to the graves of her parents. Weathered slightly, in the intervening years. Over a decade of weathering. No children though.
They say that the de Windia family died that day. That the parents were slain and the children, lost to the world. Hard turquoise eyes looked at the ornate headstones, trying to bore through them, through the earth and see what she had not for so long. Hard turquoise eyes softened, as she remembered. Regretted. Too late, perhaps, but regret is not a creature of reality.
All...but one.
She was the last.
"Walking the road to the past, raven?" Comes a feminine voice behind Selina, so soft and sweet.... like velvet, like wine. "Do you pray for your ancestors? Pray for forgiveness or rememberance? You should be beyond that now, raven. Beyond any single death, beyond any single worship and regret." She says, serious, words of preaching to a congregation of one.
She chuckles then, breaking the stillness of a church she had set herself, her voice light, now, seductive. "You are death, pretty raven... it is useless for mourn over what you are. You should rejoice.”
Selina De Windia: "Am I?" She replies, turning about to face the source of the voice. "And who is it who comes seeking this death, then?"
As Selina turns she sees.... a nun. A beautiful nun in black robes of priesthood, her face pale and beautiful, so unlike most Selina has seen... her eyes are like rubies, her hair like fire, her skin like milk. She smiles pure wickedness as she comes close to Selina... "One like you. One that would grieve to destroy such a beautiful instrument of death... and would rather just... talk." her last comes almost like a moan.
Selina De Windia: Eyes suddenly mirroring that wickedness like a cornered predator barring its fangs at another, Selina steps back a pace, closer to the graves. "Don't even go there, dear Child of Silence. State your...business."
The wicked feel of her glance intensified by her step back, "Dangerous as a raven, shy as a dove..." She says, her gaze going higher, looking down on Selina almost imperceivably, like one that looks at such a wonderful servant... "I am an emissary of the one you killed the subjects of, the one you interfered with the bussiness of. The Shining One is displeased, pretty Raven. But I convinced my assossiates to talk to you, and the other emissary of your Mistress. Pehaps we can reach some understanding, hmmm?" Her full breasts heaving even under the heavy robes, a slight tinge of pink coloring her cheeks... "Oh, we can arrive to many pleasant understandings..."
Selina De Windia: "Or maybe, I don't want to talk right now." She steps back forward imperceptively and puts a finger on the other woman's strenum, pushing her away. "And I especially," Her tone turns derisive, but softer. "Do not want to fuck you on my parents' grave."
"Your parents? Ooh..." She says, her gaze looking at the tombstones... trailing over them in a way that seems almost to desecreate them. "... Miriana De Windia, hmmm? Surprised you came from such a noble stock... and I thought you had learned this poise with your mistress."
She says, moving playfully away to give Selina room, "I am the Vestal of the Livid Lamasery, pretty bird. And you, madam Miriana De Windia? Tell your parents the title your mistress has given you while you moaned in bed with oblivion...."
Selina De Windia: "I am the Dark Angel...by my own choice." Selina states flatly, looking at the other deathknight with just a hint of contempt. "No petty ghost of ages past named me."
She shakes her head slightly, disappointed. "I had thought as much, but I heard the Dark Angel was indepent. Some say we are fallen... if so, you certainly did fall below the ground." She says as she walks closer to the tombstones, holding the holy symbol on her neck - a thurible engulfed by what seems to be both an abyss and a great flare of light, depending on how you see it - and whispering, a prayer, then turning around, "Should I have to talk to the Pale Angel to see a true player in this game, or did you fall wholly in the whore's bed, Dark Angel?"
"Oh... and how rude of me. I am the Vestal of the Livid Lamasery. But you can call me Charmaine, dear." she says, stepping closer to Selina once again...
Selina De Windia: "I've never bedded a whore before, sorry to disappoint you. If that makes me independant, then I am. If not, your estimation of my person does not matter a whit to me anyway." Selina levelly replies, holding her ground this time as the wind ruffles the now-white feathers on her wings.
"As for the Pale Angel, I think I will be the one to make her squeal first, not you. Not that you'd get any better answer from her, trust me." Her manner becomes more sultry, dangerously edged. "Now...what exactly is it you want from me, Charmaine, besides a little tickle under those dreadful robes?"
She grins as Selina holds her ground, a little step foward, not wanting to shy the Dark Angel away. Not yet. "I have told you before, Dark Angel. We want some things you posses... and, for respect for your companion and your mistress..." the last one is let out with contempt - a respect that comes with power, and nothing else. ".. We would like to negotiate for them. Tomorrow night, in the Reinbach Temple, Blue Wind in Lower Windia. Tomorrow night, and not before. Bring the Pale Angel, if she is the one who is on the whore's bed and you are nothing more than a sword. Maybe I will make you both squeal." She grins, shrugging in a carefree manner, "Would really prefer that over making you scream."
Selina De Windia: "Oh...oh gods above. The fun never stops with our kind, does it?" The assassin sighs with a hint of exasperation, shaking her head in irritation then looking almost angrily at the other deathknight. "At least you lot have more tact then that band of dead soldiers. Except when it comes to one matter...or are you the only one with an addiction to the flesh?"
"I am the only one, far as I know. The rest... well, they don't know know how to have fun. I wish it was our kind that made it never stop." She says, "Like I am very different from you. Listen to yourself, pretty Raven. You would squeal as much as I would. That is why I came by myself when I could have sent messengers... i wanted to know you. To know if it was you. All I had heard, yes.." With these words, she moves, her heavy dark robes making it so she seems to glide towards the Windian, her hand reaching and stroking her cheek, "...just have to be taught how to kneel and pray." She whispers, letting go and turning around, walking away... "I trust you will remember where we will meet to parlay?"
Selina De Windia: "Maybe I would, or, perhaps not. At any rate, I hate kneeling." Selina looks a bit more angry now, blushing somewhat as those images run through her head. Shaking her head in frustration as if to clear them out, the Windian almost seems to hiss. The hiss of an enraged viper, perhaps. Or a dragon.
No.
One.
Teases.
Me.
Too used to being the predator, and not liking being baited, Selina grows under her breath. The growl is low, almost too low, as if the iconic dragon of her anima is lending depth to it she should not have. It's a hungry, ravenous growl, that almost makes the air vibrate and the ground as well. The Dark Angel steps up to the Vestal, and catches her arm, sidling up behind her in a light manner, pulling her about.
"Too late, Vestal." She says with a throaty, soul-killingly lacivious purr, like a famished predator. It's been far too long since she let that out with any hope of fulfillment. "I'm not going to wait that long. In the Durant mauloseum, in the darkness near the dead you like so much -- just a little cuddle till my time here is up. Tomorrow will bring what it will, but in the next hour..." She trails off and chuckles sultrily.
The Vestal looks deep into her eyes, chuckling in dark lust like out of the most wicked void, pushing Selina’s arms down and kissing her...
- - Back to First Movement
- - Back to A Dance of Angels
