҂ Tჩє Oʀɗєʀ {CLOSED}

Do you seek to preserve or destroy all that is sacred in this world?

Preserve, let the Lost Judas continue their path to redemption.	25.9%	[ 15 ]
Destory, The Lost Judas shall perish, giving Atara vengeance against the four great deceivers.	19.0%	[ 11 ]
The legion shall become the new world order.	22.4%	[ 13 ]
Um. . .I just came here for the gold. Wow, awkward...	32.8%	[ 19 ]
Total Votes:			[ 58 ]

[ll Agonia ll]

xx

_____▣ Patriarch_____ ▣ The Church _____▣ Npc

So with anonymity you remain.

It was clear the well built stranger had no intention of revealing a name let alone giving way to identification. Even the garments that swallowed him were misleading. An earsplitting silence had passed between them for some time now. He had not missed the touches made to Nicu, nor the close contact of whispers. Rage was seeding his blood at just the memory. The list of reasons to despise this man was growing larger. Not only had this guest's head remain above Victor's own, while seated, the over-sized princox was assaulting Victor with the speak of lack luster insults. No one had ever dare to address me with such disrespect. The sound of metal skidding his desk brought his focus to where the clatter ended. For a splinter of time his gaze widened in surprise. A hand lifted to cease the clamoring steps of the Albino in his charge. Obviously Nicu was somewhat surprised at the handling of Sancti Eques symbolism. The design he stared upon belonged to the following he had created. There was no doubt this was an authentic specimen. How had this happened? Outraged glare violently knocked into the strangers gaze. All this person had given Victor was more questions. How had he come by such trinkets? However, the answer he offered up sounded nothing more than lies uttered by an ulterior motive. Infuriated...He had never been so provoked in his life, save for the moments spent with Cassius.

Victor disregarded Nicu's attempt to subdue his hemorrhage of temper that was fast approaching an unsound level. And the holy man's bejeweled appendage lashed out backhanding the adjutant with discipline. This was half the high priests fault, after all. Dispatching a group of low ranking scouts to acquire the treasure he sought so feverishly. Was Nicu attempting to throw stumbling blocks at him? No, he was not capable of underhanded nor conspiracy tactics. Victor had hand picked Nicu because he was a suitable puppet to manipulate. The violence he had shown his assistant was so fleeting and red hot that many would question if it had even happened. Strike was a brush stroke across alabaster skin, leaving a contusion against the younger male's cheek. Victor had felt the impact of bone colliding with his rings, and it only worked to feed his already aroused state. His horrible fetish was warming his abdomen like stoked embers. "Do not interfere. You will be spoken with at a later date. Retrieve what it is our guest has asked of you..." dangerous voice nearly shook with ill intent. The clatter of footsteps and scraping scabbard echoed, the sounds forced Victor's palm against his own aggravated expression ".... And leave that godawful tool behind!" Quiet voice chilled to the bone while addressing Nicu and the sword. It was a fact that if this stranger had intended to murder them, he would have done so without them ever having noticed his presence. He paused long enough to watch the gaunt priest shuffle away in a daze of mortification and shock. The wooden partition had shut behind the confounded albino.

Victor's face had been inclined ever since this free radical had spouted his outpouring of secrecy and question. Chin was now resting against the tops of his knuckles. Jade eyes had been made wild by madness and were shrouded by the lay of russet crown. Such insolence.

"Pestiferous scoundrel. . . . . watch your tongue, or I will see to its subjugation."

Finally he could hold back no more, and contempt was brandished by tongue. Indeed, he gave the male a name to be addressed by. This was not advantageous, he had to control himself. The clutch on his own hand had white knuckled beneath distemper. A song of provocation surged to his head nearly deafening him, in the process, as it screamed. The Patriarch was the personification of a firework. Never had hatred burned so bright that it licked like flames against his chilled iris. Gaze had now lifted to trap the nameless one in the line of its sight. The things he wished to do to this man and his pistol of a mouth. A sound of arousal almost made itself audible. "I am not a fool to be had by a strangers account of happenings. However, what is it that you claimed to have witnessed?" Fingers collected the blood smeared insignia that had been cast by the mold of his desires. The rustic fluid of life was still frozen and wept against his body heat. He was not insinuating that he would believe anything spouted. But it was a fact that a fragment of truth and understanding could be filtered from the muckiest of fabrications.

A visible meltdown had not become obvious until the utterance of a rival and his ineptness was brought into question. The older gentleman's body was no longer at ease, not that he had given relaxation much jurisdiction over his gathered parts to begin with. Victor was an a**l individual, after all. The tension within the room had become sticky so that with each draw of breath he could taste the spice of challenge, and it made him ravenous. "I will not be made a halfwit by your attempt to propagate reaction. One who speaks without the slightest display of self mastery. I am surely not obligated to explain my tactics to you a stranger to these parts." He hissed. How much of what this man said was the truth, and how much was fabricated? Was the nameless male attempting to get answers by reaching? Or was he indeed well informed of what is happening? Paranoia was beginning to surface and it brought with it that old familiar sickness. Cassius the liquid form of each eye vibrated and jaw was taunt enough to shatter incisor. He had already been aware that the bane of his existence had released an artifact. Overflowing reports of strange happenings had left him to surmise that others had been, as well. You quagmire. Eyes like hot liquid smelted against this annoyance taking up far too much space, before him. The fact that the man's seated posture was well above his own, poked at his pet peeve...What an insufferable personality He was forced into being cautious about what came out of his mouth. Victor did not want to shed much light on this persons statements.

Doing whatever you wish Victor netted his wandering mind, one must harbor control when around this type of individual. The holy man was not a complete dolt, he recognized the taste of bravado when force fed. But how he wished to indulge this mystery man's attempts to unharness his brutal character, this guest was dangerous like glycerin flavored poison to an ignorant palate. Posture pushed him off angle, to lean against the back of his chair, it let loose a creak under the weight. Hands were enjoying the calming cool exuded by the lifeless wood grain of armrests. Victor examined the features of this other with greater focus. Dark like caramel and chiseled by the hand of temptation. His lengthy hair was thicker than the patriarch first thought. Well tended and groomed to a sheen, even his aroma was hygienic, save for the natural musk most men carry just below the surface of soap. "What is your purpose here? Besides testing an old man's patience? I am well aware of what has transpired within my borders. You are too well informed of the goings on here, for me not to recognize your face." Tongue seized within mid sentence, a deranged thought stabbed itself into the forefront of his cognition and momentarily he glanced to the paperwork he had been reassembling after his initial outburst. The parchment was now dabbed in defrosted blood. He gazed the memorandum stating the current situation regarding the occupancy of other regions outside of his boarders. Things were going to hell in a hand basket, from what the reports informed him of so far. Some flagrant mad man was attempting to harness the globe as his own personal regime, with full intentions of uniting all under one banner.

Surely. . . A doubtful and cautious air reflected his thought process, like coolant to his overheated head, it violently clenched his entrails. He would not just waltz his way in. . .? Victor had been cautiously searching out even the most insignificant information on the war mongering fiend. So far there was no record of a face nor a name to be had and it infuriated him to no end. But that war god was an anomaly in itself, too powerful, which had perked the aged man's attention. He was fascinated with artifacts and stories surrounding the tyrant of chaos were indicative of such a trinket. Or had the tales been fattened by glorification? He had been researching to answer just that nagging question. The approach of his subordinate divided his aware, as he could hear Nicu returning with the rattle and clink of a tray which had halted outside the barrier of office door.

[ll Agonia ll]

__________________________________________▣ Place: Victor's Office___ ▣Person: Victor/Warlord___▣ Mood: killing intent

Something horrible is happening.

He was crouched with his back pressed and cubby-holed in the corner of the Church sacristy. Nicu manhandled fistfuls of the pearl luster locks woven to his throbbing skull, elbows were hard pressed into the legs that were supported by the bend of knees. The priest was drawn inwards on himself his attention focused on the thigh that was unlawfully given a caress by the inhuman creature, just moments prior. No longer was the soft tissue being masticated by the barbed teeth of a metal cinch. Cilice was absent, nothing more than a fleeting memory. If the pattern of abrasions had not been visible Nicu would have mistaken the device for never having existed. "How is such a ability even possible?...It's inconceivable." Nicu spat the words of explosion. Neglected body was vibrating involuntarily because of the phantom whisper echoing in his ear. There was no mistaking that a monster overtook the office of his eminence and it was in addition to Victor himself. That stranger was a destructive force that should not, by any right, be given the chance to develop beyond the abomination it had already become. The lay of the priests robes had been parted to expose buttermilk thigh to his view. The inflamed skin was blushed and puckered by mid healing. If only he hadn't been on the tail end of abstaining, his body felt weak.

"They are all dead." liquid emotions welled up and were soon traveling down the angles of his cheek and chin. The insignia skidding Victor's desk were still fresh in his mind. They were nothing more than blood soaked remnants of youth he sent marching to their death. Droplets sounded clearly against stone flooring like the patter of a hesitant and numbing rain. Of course he knew that the dispatched envoy was comprised of the inexperienced, in all honesty Nicu was hoping for the loss of the Compass, at their expense. But, death? It had been the most feared possibility to his finely constructed scenarios. "Cassius" he uttered. "It is more than I can bear.." Realistically, he knew the envoy's demise was eminent. He had to bear the weight of life having been lost due to his ulterior motives. What have I become? For a moment he actually felt relieved that the insignia's were recovered. How his own behavior disgusted him. Guilt was ruthlessly carving its sickness into his person. The bodies of the deceased Sancti would never be recognized by the church. They would be returned to the mothers earthly embrace without a name or recognition of their duty. His breathing had subsided to a more gentle flow.

The face reflecting back to him, had been made imperfect with grief and a busted cheek. "I don't recognize you anymore." The priest spoke to himself while gazing the mirror image trapped by the water contained in the marble stoup. He had been sure, if he had been closer to Victor, he could have deflected the poisonous stranger and his dagger tongue's effects. It had been too late, however, and the priggish viper had lashed Nicu's cheek with detest and dethroned aggression. A fresh linen, that had been soaking in pristine and chilled water, was being rung by his naked hands. The sounds of droplets returning to their main source echoed within the vast room he now stood in alone. Soon, the prepared compress was used to caress and dab the swelling tissues belonging to his face along with the removal of the ink stain that had previously taken up residency. He glanced from the treatment basin to the tray of refreshments that waited beside him. Nicu had already tended to the preference of beverage sought out by the mysterious man. Which such an order had landed the clergyman into the sacristy. The only place within the church that contained "clean" water. He had already drawn the immaculate liquid and was now gathered in a sanctified vessel crafted out of earthly mediums, such as clay and heat. Hfaetec ai Atara. an attempt to settle his nerves was wasted. Subconscious was well aware the suggestive words and paranoia spoke volumes to his conscious mind.

Only a select branch of descendants, belonging to his people still practiced the strict hydration of what they considered the mother's tears. Nicu being one of those scion, he was nervous more than he had ever been. Why does he know such things or better yet, how? this was not a tidbit of information that any outsider would pick up easily let alone a foreigner. And no matter how that man presented himself, he looked nothing of the natives. Sqaumish people kept tradition bundled by family ties. Rumpled brow accented his face with curiosity before returning him to the present situation. That situation being that I have to go back in there. It isn't wise to leave them alone. that fact nearly tossed his earlier intake of water. Maybe he was more susceptible to nausea because of his deficient stomach? The male had gone a couple of days without ingesting the necessary amount of nourishment to sustain his bodily strength. Or maybe the memory of how the monstrosity had watched him made him feel dirty. Nicu had felt like he was being visually violated by the mans lust driven gaze. More potent than that of even Victor's, it had plunged into his stomach where his guts had still been twisted up and eviscerated his concern. Gooseflesh was erected at just the memory of it for most individuals weren't so open about their sexuality, especially when it deviated from the norm.

"Keep yourself together." He muttered. There was no time to continue to mull over what had transpired. The horrific visitor had announced some fairly secretive information, which was another and more serious concern. He had to figure out a way of realizing how much the man actually knew. All the effort Nicu had expended keeping such things secret, and this large bundle of blunder came forth to ruin his years of blinding His Eminence to some of the awakenings. Nicu knew that Victor was suspicious but that was as far as he had gone. The small priest knew for a fact that there had been three artifacts that were released, including Cassius'. The most he could hope for is Victor's stubborn inability to focus with Cassius having been mentioned. Granted the exiled name was not spoken aloud, but just the hint of a rival was enough to boil Victor's blood.

The priest stood upright and twisted at the waist to recover the neatly ordained platter a sleeve was used to wipe his own damp face the sting of his damaged tissues reminded him to be cautious. "This wound was well worth the expression." Nicu did receive a small bit of amusement when thinking back to the situation on Victor's face. You were so outraged A trace chuckle was emitted while fixing a few biscuits to the tray he now held with one hand. But the pitter patter of small feet made him hide out of sight, only the clink of his tray gave off a sound. The man winced hoping the wild beasts had not heard him. A herd of young children was scurrying down the hall, the fabric of their ceremonial decor chafing with speedy movements. He was a favorite among the youth and did not wish to be attacked by the pack. Most of Audacia's children were allowed to stay awake for the opening of the heaven's gate. The release of souls was a cherished family event, after all, that would never segregate the children from midnight.

"I must hurry." He did not want to be absent from the meeting that was taking place in what he now considered an office of horror. So he stepped from he window drapery that had obliged his momentary concealment. A manic gait guided him along the corridor, like a rat he had memorized flawlessly. Many would loose themselves in these halls, but he had yet to ever fall prey to the twist and turns of masonry labyrinth. Sometimes he deliberated that the building had been built just for that purpose. He shrugged away conspiracy only to be landed with the weight of what he fast approached. Oh god, he did not wish to enter that room and the closer he became, the more anxiety gnawed his insides. He found his steps becoming less frequent until he stood outside the inner sanctum with tray in hand. He could barely hear conversation, and estimated his time away had not been more than ten minutes. Underlying fear was afraid and keeping him from opening the large doors of carved designs. In all honesty, Nicu was afraid of observing what could of happened in such a short amount of time. Who knew what was going on behind that shut obstruction? Visions of fleshly debauchery taking place across a pristine desk, leaked into his perception which dispatched like a spider spindling the notches of his spine. This sent him into an announced shudder. What the hell was that?! The tray clinked in defiance and the man looked to it with betrayal.

Now, Nicu was all the more against opening that door, until he heard that impatient voice chastise him again. "Do not dilly dally! Enter already." He was too used to being yelled at by this man, that he now did things that he knew would upset Victor's child- like demeanor of privilege. With a breath he pushed the door ajar using a curved hip and tender thigh. His body still ached from the previous night of duties. "Your Eminence...My apologies." He bit back the sarcasm as well as possible before turning to the white elephant relaxing within the room. He leaned forward offering up the refreshment that lay against the tray. "What you wished for." His voice was low and shaky gaze was settled just below the man's eye contact. Nicu found himself studying the curve of lips, and the dark pigment of flesh that surrounded them. As if being reminded his attention only strayed for a moment, to pick out where the weapon had remained in his absence.

[Teratophilimaniac]

For how long she'd floated downriver, she didn't know. Not only did the water numb her body, but it numbed her thoughts, as well. Time was merely a long forgotten thing in the back of her mind as Xhosa's one and only worry clung firm to her straining consciousness -- she had to get Mashti out of the water. But, the issue with that was her inability to swim well when her body was now undergoing the effects of both fatigue, as well as the slowly encroaching plague of hypothermia. Her body betrayed her will as it shivered in ferocious onslaughts, desperate to try and keep her warm when she was more so desperate to pull her and Mashti closer towards the river's edge. To Xhosa's misfortune, the river's fast-paced sweep wouldn't slow enough for her rigid body to swim towards the bank till much further down the way. This meant that, once she did finally claw through the icy mud of the riverbank, her and Mashti both would be in a long-winded struggle just to crawl out of the water.

At this point, she felt no burn at all. The excruciating hell that one felt on the border of being cold and freezing had long since subsided in her skin, everything merely a temperate warm as her numb limbs now slowly wallowed through the slush of the bank. With half-lidded, sleepy eyes Xhosa scanned the vastness of white that greeted her now. Her heart sank at the wide, empty clearing between Audacia and the Church. To walk toward civilization was her only option at this point, and yet... she'd grown so tired. She was tired, and she was deathly afraid that, even if she did make it somewhere, it'd be too late to find someone willing to be a samaritan for the sake of saving her life.

In her throat was her heart, and the growing realization of her misfortune caused the Judas wanderer to give herself up to tears. But, they weren't tears for her sake alone. Deep down her hurt was doubly intensified by the fact that her friend would also freeze to death.

The only friend she had was going to freeze to death... because of her.

Would it have been better to have left him? If he'd been able to get away from the Sabre, would he have been able to survive without her? These questions she asked herself only stabbed the knife deeper into her heart, knowing the answer to these questions already, and also knowing full-well that her own selfishness to not be alone had lead her to killing the only creature who'd ever stayed with her.

Raspy, ugly sobs forced their way from the taut confines of her lungs. Her own anger at herself warmed her muscles just enough to where she could pull her heavy frame into a sitting position, shirking off her pack and rummaging through the already emptied out bag. The only thing left in it was a wool shawl that had been used to line the bottom of the pack, the fabric wet from their ride downstream. Still, it was made of wool, so she knew that it would still help to retain heat even if it was soggy like this. Such being the case, she could wear it, and possibly save herself some more time before the cold would kill her.

Therein Xhosa would bundle Mashti up in the wool, wasting her good fortune on him so as to try, likely in vain, to keep her hyena warm, dragging him in close up against her to share what very little heat she had left before sluggishly bringing them both up to standing. From there it would be a painstakingly slow, somber hobble through the snow. To her benefit, the singular desire of saving Mashti from the cold would help to keep her going. Though, she was a zombie at this point. She could feel it... death rested its hand on her shoulder as she cradled her friend in her arms and took the two of them over the threshold.

[ll Agonia ll]

▣ Whereabouts: Citadel tab ▣ Irritant: Yeshua || Patronus tab ▣ Temper: condensed irritation

"I am fully able to recognize a patronizing tone." The commander had been using one for quite some time while addressing the resident of Candor. Cassius would only voice his awareness to the satire once before outright ignoring any attempt to rouse a reaction. He no longer played with the non existent wrinkles in his wardrobe. For Patronus was in the process of making clear his flippancy toward the smaller male's personal space. The ridiculously muscular body, belonging to the commander, was closing in with a scent of musk oil and cinnamon to be perceived. The exiled priest calmed the red hot aggravation at the foreign shadow eclipsing his comfort zone. He made no attempt to step away and eyes held a blunt dagger of contact. The topic of the conversation was swaying down the path he had been bright enough to foresee. Cassius was well aware that the connection between him and this man would be one of give and take before any pathway of trust could be well-established. He was more than willing to shell out what was necessary to accomplish stabilization. "You have mistaken my objective, Patronus. I have no intention of marrying our forces below an arbor of blind faith." He reassured his position with tolerance and agreement to equal exchange. Cassius cleared his throat rubbing his fingertips into a raw sting. Over the past couple of nights a tickle had developed and brought with it an annoying rasp to his voice. Maybe the constant stress was taking its tole on his body? His body? Ah it was still heavy from trying to wake completely from previous spell.

The "Tch" spat from his flaxen pet-peeve, invited the petty sensation of delight. This quickly fell away when optical curiosity toddled after Yeshua. A rustle of the infernal guardian's fabric spoke freely of his location. That familiar quirk at Cassius' brow was active again to pulsate to the rhythm of his temper. Yeshua was folded into a position which was undoubtedly misleading and the utterance of a foul language was erecting something unfathomable. He could sense the darkness enclosing around them like inky wisps staining a clear water current. It was a blasphemous posture for someone of Yeshua's attributes to be stealing. The impulse to boot his companion in the rear-end overwhelmed cast iron fortitude. Prostration is far more befitting. He thought. It was better to lock away that silly ambition, however. The Incubi had been helpful enough to enforce that their meeting remain private. Lungs relaxed a sigh but soon he was caught off guard. Patronus had advanced himself close enough to inhale the breath that had been expelled by his chapped mouth. Eyes were trapped by the spheres of an opposing glare. A color that resembled hazel earth made rich with veins of gold bore into his attention span. The pupil belonged to someone who sought falsehood for the sport of it, so that he could suffocate lie's teller.

No time was offered for a response to the aggressive inquiry. Cassius did not try to buy a moment to do so either. Long eyelashes stitched together his lids with inevitability for he was no longer captured by the commanders loom. You always overreact. . . he feuded internally with his contracted half. He had already known the dependable guardian would intercept Patronus' infiltration. Yeshua was an extremely potent personality. Cassius was not so self absorbed to mistake it for chivalrous jealousy. These responses always felt more liken a childlike tantrum at having ones toy played with by someone other than themselves. Even the way he was being grappled, currently, was with selfish greed. He did not favor these outbursts but he could not bring himself to hate them either. In all honesty, he had never once been viewed a "merchandisable" personality. So it would be dishonest if he believed he did not feel something about these instances. But what he felt was still a mystery and was sometimes akin to bitter bludgeoning sweet with a mallet.

As Cassius had surmised, Patronus' network was astonishingly vast. The word "Artifact" had made it into the man's vocabulary. How exactly had he come by that information? He wanted to know but understood it would be pointless to ask. What do you sense from him? the question was strongly posed to Yeshua, as a mental thought. Cassius had suspicions regarding Patrnonus' bloodline. They were suspicions that only an in depth assessment from Yeshua's kind could decide. But Something happened next that the Judas had not expected. Surprise pummeled his face when Yeshua's assertiveness showcased a liberated anatomy. Hooded swathe of fabric abandoned its duty and opened sight to the creatures physique. Both muscle and height expanded to compliment the curl of bone that now twisted from the skull of creamy tresses. Dark as a bottomless void, the bony overgrowth were chained and agleam with the silver and inverted cross of decor. The Judas's stomach recoiled at the display that his contracted partner allowed Patronus to gawk. Even the sunset trapped in the splendor of ocular anomaly was visible.

Anger? No, why would I be angry?

The man almost felt intolerant at another set of eyes looking upon what constrained HIM and him alone. "You do not expose yourself without permission." Cassius did not recognize his own voice when it coldly tethered Yeshua's throat like a noose. The order was so astringent that he swore someone else had uttered it. Crucifix affixed to his own collar was now dangling like a tangled pendulum from a clenched and bloodied fist. Had he been clutching a fist so tightly to produce damage? Now, he was being reminded about feeding time which served to salt the wound, in the presence of a stranger's company. "You deserve to be housed once again, without nourishment.." numb eyes were void of feeling perhaps made so as not to give away his own outrage? The appendage of flame and dragon skin was given the duty of reassembling the cloak. Cassius did not delay and yanked the overcoat back into its place before other could lean away.

Insidious fixation was stabbed into Patronus now. Cassius eyes were clearly saying "I will not answer anything else on that matter and you will not seek to speak of it for now." Of course, that was a demand that anyone with commonsense would submit to. It was only logical that a normal human being would be unable to put the memory of Yeshua from their mind after having been so openly invited to witness. But, Cassius had to transmit the warning to ease the rising inclination to commit homicide. Yeshua's actions were not completely uncalled for, no matter how it infuriated him. It was easier to show someone rather than explain, after all. "There is no need for me to explain further the importance of discretion. . .?" The Judas rubbed temples to quiet the anxiety that had been gaily firing synapse like a kid with fireworks. Ah, a sabbatical would be appreciated.. But there was no rest in to be had, not as far as a Judas was concerned.

"Now that one of your concerns has been addressed, I would like one of mine to be given the same attention." He injected the statement into the silence of their conversation. "There have been discouraging reports that . . .something or someone moves in places that are conveniently obscured." It was alarming, the accounts that have come to Cassius's attention from people who fear the strange occurrences that have made the land more potent with each passing day. "I am sure you know of what I speak. The land outside Candor is far too vast and my eyes are not many. Victor is more vigilant than ever, awaiting me like a snare would a hare. You, to the contrary, have many vantage points in which to observe and the freedom to do so. Have you come across anything suspicious wandering the borderlands?" Shoulders rested his tired mass into the cool and firm stone. "I suspect that a certain pestilence has turned his attention to Atara. Which was only a matter of time..."



{{Ooc: Hopefully it progresses enough~.
I might edit some when I wake up tomorrow.}}

[Countess Venomania]

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x Non Participating Combatant indent
Company : Victor | Nicu indent
Location : cathedral indent
Mood : heated | hungry | curious indent
Status : 100% healthy indent

❅ He laughed. Not a decadent, quiet song of a female, or the boisterous, heavy sound of a chuckling man. Rather, it was a manifestation of mirth found in madness that escaped his thrown back posture; the sound was rich and smooth as butter, but with the same effect that a childhood witch could cackle with. Pleasant to the ears, but sickening to the stomach. It was simply too much... that someone could speak to him with such reciprocating condescension. He would surely have enjoyed slicing through the tension this individual was replacing the airflow with, pulsating as a bright star of burning anger towards his previous statements. It was most amusing and most arousing to come into contact with.

❅ "I would enjoy your attempts of subjugation more than you could know." Was the remark made at the expense of this one's humor found in sublime hatred. "I come equipped with mastery of my self, but it's you that I am more interested in. All I did was supply facts of a gathering that you would otherwise remain oblivious towards, and denounce the material possessions you are seeing the indention of in your fingers." Of course he had noticed the way knuckles gripped so tightly against themselves, that rings were clanked together. Symbols of status carved into stones, which were just as useless as the clothes that he wanted to remove from the male across the desk from himself. He wondered how the thin albino was able to contend with such a malicious individual, and if the slap was but a precursor to the euphoria of this one's fetish brandished across milk-white skin. Even he recognized the signs of a sadistic relationship between the two of them, but he doubted how submissive the counterpart truly was. The thought of it nearly overwhelmed him with pleasure towards discovery. He very much would like to strip away the fur a felt that was as tightly bound to the current Patriarch's body as his knuckles were intertwined.

❅ 'Stranger?' He repeated the word within mind, almost disbelieving the man had said them, and with the same mirth as before. Yes, this man entertained him beyond a measurable circumstance. 'I was here before you were born...' Rounded gleam of iris was but the only indicator of internal struggle to dissipate the voice. This man was surely pulling at a beast better left slumbering, even as he made Evhan aroused and longing to do so very much more. It was only after the erasure of such a secondary presence that the previous mirth spilled over into himself.

❅ "You sent them out knowing full well that you would not claim them if they were caught. Why should you care what manner the land was in after their defeat?" His words were soft, quiet, and almost masked in the rustling of papers and tinkling of china outside the door. Yet, he was positive the paranoid mind of the angered male would pick up every thread of words spoken. Tilting his head, he examined the hesitant state of the albino in his return. Oh, my. He did look rather shaken up now, didn't he? It made him want to play with the startled rabbit more than he already had. Evhan waited ever so patiently as his mouth and chin were deliberately studied rather than focus of eyes. To meet such refusal, mouth lifted into a twisted look, the wicked grin tugged along one side.

❅ "*Eh desa, femm luhxianc ymm." In time, will conquers all. Where he had dredged that up from inside himself, he was unsure. He could not recall ever learning the Squamish tongue, nor pronouncing it so fluently, but there were a thousand holes in his memories and one more thing to ponder over was added to the rubbish bin. He had whispered it as a means to ignite a few sparks in the ear of this disciple, as it was highly significant to this specific night that a saying muttered from the last war be tread across ear canal as hand grasped cup. The water was refreshing, drained completely while eyes returned to Victor. With a slight tilt, he could easily make out the papers rustling on wood grain and it took only a step forward to plant himself impossibly close to the furniture in a manner that the naked eye could not see. Fingertip, damp with condensation, circled the words "War God" as cup rattled where it landed.

❅ "If you don't act, perhaps I will." The chuckle here was dark, darker than any previous, and with a viperous addition that could make one's hair stand on end. "Do let me know if you want another conversation. If it was you calling my name, I'd answer~" Words were stated prior towards a collision of lips, tooth marking into the plump flesh of the "celibate" man's lower vulva during the exchange of kiss so that remembrance could be had. He was gone before the man could react, only his laughter left to remain, with sword meticulously sparking out from its designated resting spot, disturbing a swirl of dust on the floor.

[ll Agonia ll]

Tangled are the lunar gems within the rack of the black stag.
Two impaled as one and adorn an incandescent halo.
Stellar fish swim in an inky sea to allure the
talons of the midnight raven. Secure now is the celestial
serpent whom shall forever embed the stars
like diamonds along its back.

J eweled sidewinder cleaves the sky and from heavenly
chasm the aurora spider glides on threads of iridescent silk.
Traveling the expanse of eventide's ceiling the web of
constellations are drawn together. Now shall arise the
nocturnal butterfly whom flutters souls upon wings
fastened by stardust and wind.

U nspoken devotion is snagged in webbed
chandeliers. Suspended wings strum a symphony with
spider threads. Oh lost souls who ascend on the drift of
darkness. Only does deliverance light when swathed
by the cluster legged spinner.


The clock has just struck midnight. The bells of the church
tower will toll. Midnight mass will take place after the
release of souls ceremony. The ceremony is a national event.
Anyone may partake and many do. Sky and water
lanterns are floated at this time. To each lantern a
prayer or a wish from the living is fastened. Do take the time
to enjoy the whimsical event, the entire nation will be engulfed.

[ll Inanis ll]

No amount of mental fortitude would have lessened the alarm battering his crux. Hell even the worst of human beings would be suffering the same injection of adrenaline his muscles currently guzzled. The inquisition he demanded on behalf of an Artifacts identity was posed against the broad side of the stone pillar. A bewildered state squinted the commander's vision as a means to dissuade the thought of poor perception. Patronus back stepped with caution and fluidity. His eyes flanked to hound after any disturbance made. He sure as hell knew Cassius had been present and even showing a less than amused stare, while pinned to this exact place. That was hardly a wink ago but now there was nothing before him but a stone pillar? How was the disjointed male's escape even presented to the realm of possibility? The compact priest should not have the ability to pinpoint and commission Patronus' blind spots. No, a human being was incapable of such feats. Cassius had been impeded by more than Patronus' own body mass but by the ties of human limitations as well.

"A magic trick?" Unequivocally, the disappearing act had to be little more than a contribution of mumbo jumbo or new age sciences. His answer did not wait long to reveal itself, howbeit. There was an unrecognized voice instructed syllables to sound of a Candorian native. Patronus' sight darted to where an explanation was resourced by the hood who could have fooled the unsuspecting into believing him a mute.

"An artifact is an object that can take any form. Anything material in make can house a denizen of another age. Common populace will perhaps receive only modicums of bad luck from the object and cast it aside. One marked by Judas, however..,"

There it stood at a posture that exhausted all his aspirations of looking away. An unseen force made certain that Patronus centered all do diligence on the two bodies that were projecting a nigh terror. What the hell have you not spoken to me of, Damasus ? An imaginative picture of the elderly man lifting a nonchalant hand and laughing out loud insulted his current reaction. Swatches that were designed to keep chill away were unfolded and rippling at two sets of feet. The male who had been eyeing Patronus with just as much aversion as Patronus had done him kept speaking an array of words that should have been unfathomable. The air around all three of them was suspiciously charged and the outline that had a responsibility of keeping human dimensions dropped all pretenses. Spiraled were large bone fixtures black as coal that wore metallic accessories. It had been this beast that caused the shifting positions at the speed of sound? Scale and fire swished from the base of a spine and cast a light liken a demonic lamp.

"Ah...save us." a shuddered exclamation was the only comeback his mouth and voice could accomplish as a united front. A full body chill cast ripples of gooseflesh and skipped the beat of his heart. At Cassius' back was a Devil that no amount of prayer would ever shake. Its gaze devoured Patrounus like volcanic tides smelting a splinter of black rock. He had no doubt that if this entity wished it, he would burn in a fire that would dispel water. The entities arms were vaguely larger than his own and detained the priest from contact. Are you attempting protection? What employs you to? How? Many questions were scrambling to the forefront of his mind at the same time. This is the secret behind an Artifact. Cassius, you are meddling with danger. That devil will condemn you. Had he been anyone else his slack-jawed expression would have been molded by horrified angles. But the commander was not normal and resorted to his natural inclination to be curious and fascinated. Though caution was the order of the night.

A Judas? insinuation nodded at Cassius which naturally his attention followed. But what Patronus found, when viewing the hugged man, was not sanctified whatsoever . "Would you look at that. The pair of you make a flattering duo." The Candorian was just as demonic as the nameless artifact, currently speaking. Eyes were cold like bladed malice piercing ones vitality. The visual warning spoke volumes without voice having to. This creature that has returned to its former farce is not to be spoken about right? Patronus' had to admit that this human shape--though paling in comparison--was preferred by his strained psyche. There were somethings humans were not to see or reach for. The grin he forced was stressed and he kept a distance that safety was unsure of regarding a inhuman assailant. The couple was squabbling and it made Patronus rethink his previous thoughts on Cassius' frailty.

Was the artifact being controlled or was the Judas being possessed?

Eh? Feed?

What is the purpose, to be used as a weapon?

What have I gotten myself into?

We're all going to hell, aren't we?

Silently posed questions were all to go without an answer because he was being force fed discretion. He laughed outwardly at times like this when he failed to give a ******** about other's reception of him. "Oi oi, do not speak only for yourself as if your frame of mind includes mine. This does not put any of my concerns to rest, mind you." You one-sided, possessive b*****d. No matter how I view this situation you are meddling with demons. This particular insult did not make it past Patronus' glare. And the dark haired Judas continued along another line of questioning ignoring the commander's light retort. It was no use, eh? Well it didn't really surprise him and he didn't not need to linger on issues that would not sort out the main issue they have yet figure out. He revisited the belief that there were some things that humans just shouldn't know--for now--

"As I stated before, the darkness has begun to move....That is if he isn't already here." Patronus took from his overcoat another quill of cinnamon bark to regain some levelheadedness. "I've an account that places a pair of unknowns crossing the border. This would normally be no cause for concern or second glance. There is a celebration underway many people far and wide will be attending...." He paused assessing eye contact with Cassius that shifted to discern where the inhuman wandered off to. "But the point at which they crossed, was unbelievable." forehead wrinkled at the memory of his scouts report from Dragon's mouth. "Not only that, but the death of a mounted envoy was left in their wake." The bodies found had hardly lived long enough to be reaped by death, it was a sad but common event recently. On ice the corpses would remain until the ground was soft enough to lay them to rest. "Most concerning of all...is the strange happenings since their arrival. Animals and the land have both grown unnatural." Was this man, Cassius, a solitary inhabitant of the abandoned monasterium? Did he not have others like him, he must have some degree of a secret circle to be filled in on what was going on beyond Candor's mountains.

The slow creep of soft lights blotted out the periphery of his vision. There was no longer the multitude of voices from beyond their meeting place. The release of souls? So much time had passed since he first came to be here. His men were probably questioning his whereabouts. "I will station at your dwelling a few men, once I return to the fortress." He spoke of trust while all else was hush by the ferrying of prayers. Patronus understood that Cassius was short handed and placing some of his influence in Candor would be beneficial--for the both of them-- The tall man strode to the edge of where the inhuman fellow had been crouched a while back. He had lingered here long enough and would leave these two to their own thoughts. "You've no reason to deny them access to your housing and good will. In return, they inform you of as much as we know." With words outside his mouth he carried on his way to the encampment that had been erected when he first arrived in the city. both hands were securely placed in pockets and teeth actively chewing bark. "I am sure you are aware of this but when taking a pet you've a responsibility to see to its needs." he remembered what had been spoken between the couple. His pace slowed without stopping nor turning back to view the two men; which one of them undoubtedly would be seething. "Does he have a name?" The question regarded the devil wearing a human skin. Patronus was almost certain the answer would not come.

[svnoyi inali]

Beyond his initial warnings of his captivity little was said between Takalyun and he, his companion not even offering snide word in opposition of his threats. It seemed that with each reawakening of his corporeal self agitation from Takalyun grew, though that was to be expected. Humans did not meet creatures such as him often, nor were there many who shared his desires and goals. Mortals were so fixated on order that the concept of a being whose sole drive was to turn their world on its axis and watch as they scrambled about in attempts to fix what had been done must have been off putting. How long had it been since he too fell in line with the rest of the sheep? How many years had passed since he had fallen out of favor with the children of light? Time to a creature whose life spanned centuries meant little, even less now that his already lengthy existence seemed to be elongated by the unfortunate happenings he found himself in.

Ashton briefly wondered what Takalyun would think if he knew from what side of the Fae lineage he hailed from. He wondered if it would surprise the man if he knew the creature he shunned once belonged to nobility, a respected member of a utopian society- or at least a more utopian society than the humans. A soft chuckle escaped his lips at the thought of the possible slack-jawed expression of his companion at the epiphany. For the time being however, he would keep his lineage to himself. Takalyun and he may have spent some time together, and was destined to spend far more, but that did not mean he would divulge the inner most secrets of who he was to the man. Those thoughts were locked away tight in his memories, bound and hidden from any who would seek them.

Takalyun kept his distance from him, perhaps hoping that distance would hide him away. Acute ears kept track on the human, making sure he did not stray too far. Even if Takalyun had, a link was made between them. Ashton would always find unfortunate man.

The city around him was abuzz with activity. The energy that swirled around his being galvanized every inch of his body and mind. It was not often that he was privy to such lively surroundings, for his companion’s fear of what would happen if he were let loose among a large populous. However, his curiosity was struck more so than his lust for mayhem. Without the gift of sight he was not aware of what this night was, nor why it was significant to the people around him. Walking amongst the townspeople he listened in on the conversations around him. They spoke of festivities but gave no indication as to what they were celebrating, simply calling it the “release of souls” celebration, those words meaning nothing to him. Soft sigh of frustration passed over his lips as he accepted defeat for the time being.

Turning on heel he walked towards his companion. ”Why have you brought us here?“ Words spoken to the man as Ashton took his place beside him. Stopping at a table his hands gently glided over the wares this vendor had to offer. Books rather than trinkets. Taking one in hand he turned away from the sales woman. Fingers gently caressed the leather bound cover before flicking it open. Lightly thumbing over a few pages Ashton took a deep breath and exhaled with a pleased smile. A light tap on his shoulder brought his attention back to where he was. ”Would you like to buy that? It is an outstanding book if I may say so.” A rather jovial sounding woman chimed in. From what the sounds bouncing off of her afforded him, she was short and stout, with a round face. ”I’m sure it is. . .“ He trailed off as he turned to face the sales woman, closing the book as he did. Lightly tapping the eye decorations across his face he continued. ”Unfortunately books have never been something that has given me much enjoyment.“ The woman’s heart skipped a beat, perhaps even her face flushed with embarrassment; he could not tell. He gave the woman a small smile before handing the book back to her. ”I find pleasure from books not for the fantasies or knowledge that they hold, but rather simply for what they are made of; rough leather, crisp and fragile pages, even the musk of old ink. Those are the things I’ve grown accustomed to enjoying.“ Turning to face Takalyun he nodded towards the stack of old books before them. ”Unless of course someone was willing to read one to me.“

Bidding the sales woman farewell he left her to do her business. She was probably far more confused by what he had said then he intended. He must admit that it was odd for a blind man to show even the remotest interest in literature. The energies around him shifted as he walked. Whereas they were once scattered and disorganized, now they focused on something singularly. Most, if not all, in the city had turned their attention to something, moving towards an activity of sorts. Softly grabbing hold of Takalyun’s arm he pulled the man closer to him. He heard, once again, people speaking of the release of souls, this time much more hurried as if they were going to miss something. ”My dear Taka, would you be so kind as to explain to me what is going on? What is a ‘release of souls’, and what are all these people so focused on?“ This was probably one of the singular instances where Ashton truly regretted being blind. Having to rely on another to relay information to him that he could not readily ascertain from the situation around him was problematic, truly something he detested doing.

[taste_of_poetry]

Takalyun walked on in silence. Thoughts guaranteed his anguish, if and only if he continued to ponder the complexities of his circumstance. The unexplained connection plagued him like the pains that riddled the flesh when one fell hard into the hands of gravity. He had not been in been in the possession of the compass long enough to understand the workings of the device, but someone how had ended up with a companion. This being had been locked inside, and he could only assume that it were for reason honoring the malevolent. Tongue itched to for inquiry. Ashton had an ancient air about him, which meant he'd existed long enough to provide remedy. There was and unfamiliar presence within him, some part of himself that he was unwillingly share with some foreign entity. Qualm narrowed fleshy curtains over luminous silver, which made focal the inhabitant of fore-mentioned contraption. What had he down to warrant his appearance? What did his appearance on this plain mean?

Unseen tether seemed formidable, but not impossible to break. He felt confined to a passenger that held him in low regard, or his idle threats made it seem as such. It would take more that utterance to riddle him with fear, but he would tread with caution dealing with Ashton – at least until he could rid himself of the other. Cognition faded seamlessly into reality. Figure that had been at strides distance was now standing at his side. Their closeness consumed comfort, which altered perception. Query struck a dissonant chord, a raw dendrite that had him raring to abandon the city and Ashton amongst the orchestrated chaos. Anything the other had said in this moment would have aroused his unhinging. He turned his attention the passer-byers as calcium cradles worked themselves into fist at his side. His chest inflated and deflated slowly. He wanted to sooth his festering agitation, which threatened to become his puppeteer. Wise enough not pick a fight he had no chance of winning. “I don't know...It just feels like we are supposed to be here...”

The inflection of his softly uttered vocables sang tale of his struggle to reel in his emotions. “The reason will come to us of its own accord.” He exhale his exasperation. He'd asked himself the same question. Something was behind his decision to come here. What that might be, he could not identify. Attention slipped back to the towering physique of a fae, who'd found distraction with leather bound tome. What would a sightless life form need with treatise? His disoriented expression melded into amusement. Slight curvature at the embrace of supple flesh shrouded agitation with gaiety. The back and forth that took place between Ashton and women vendor, gave sight through satire to the sense of farce the other might have. It had not dawned on him that Ashton's kind were capable of such.

Somehow, in the midst of revelation, he'd become the gist of their colloquy. The women eyed him curiously, as if to question insinuated affinity, that deemed them intimate in a sense of bosom. He scoffed lightly. If they were intimate in the ways of amatory, maybe he would find the other tolerable. Expression played riposte, a mien that advocated the companionship he had to unwillingly endure. As Ashton gave his parting words, Takalyun's svelte digits worked to ease the book away from the other merchandise. Maybe he could use this gesture sway his current companion into believing that he wanted things to be amiable between them, and maybe even manipulate him with threats of not completing the text. He slipped the leather bound book into a satchel that bounced against his hip and followed the other further into the depth of festivities.

Hand breached the area about him that could be perceived a personal, tugging Takalyun gently to rest at his side. Brows furrowed as he saw fit to protest, but allowed the distance between them to be brought to mere measurements. Ashton seemed at end with his physical limitations, a story meant for the ears of those who'd gained his confidence. To rely on bound stranger without fear of being mislead had to be hard, and though something told him to weave a tale – he settled for truth. “It the ways of the people to unburden their hearts and moral sense...” He was not birthed of this land so he was unsure of what exactly the festival was about. He had heard tales that it was similar to the ceremonies host by his own people. An act to honor the fallen. Lanterns lit the sky like stars in the night and traveled the river at the pace of gondola, each carrying the words of prayers that would never be heard. “They speak to the heavens, invoking wisdoms of those who no longer dwell, in hopes of receiving aid in whatever their endeavors may be.” He turned to face Ashton who had not released the hold he had on his appendage. “The people of my home land light incense made of the soils of graves, hoping to gain sight to the other side. Here they light lanterns that are meant to play vessel to prayer.” He slipped his arm slowly from the others grasp, allowing to take refuge along his side. “The existence of rituals...the need to justify desires through words cast out to ancestors, it is a quest that will out live up both.”

[Wolfish Delights]

xxx" THE SUN IS RISING, THE SCREAMS HAVE GONE. "
xxxxxxxx⇝xx" TOO MANY HAVE FALLEN, FEW STILL STAND TALL. IS THIS THE ENDING OF WHAT WE'VE BEGUN? "

The nightmare was the same as ever. It started with a scream, with bright lights in the darkness, with fear. Trees formed around him, grass, blood. He glanced down at himself, only to see that he wasn't twenty-six, he was twelve again, his thirteenth birthday not days away. Or so he guessed, he'd lost track of the days, having never seen daylight before, this new world was a confusing one. The blood was bright, glimmering in the sunlight, steaming, nasty. He would cringe and turn away, only to remember that he needed the arrow embedded in the, now dead, animal's skull. Looking back, the animal was no longer there, instead, a body lay there.. A body of a pale woman, dead eyes glaring up at him, blaming him.. Accusing him.. "You could heal yourself?.." She would rasp, blood trickling from her mouth, though she did not breathe, "But not me.. Not when I needed you?.."

He remembered who she was and now he was in his twenties, Archer, fighter.. Lover.. This was his love, a woman who had given herself to him. It had been a fall, from the roof of their home.. It had been an accident, a slip that he had not seen until she was splayed across the ground by their front door. It all replayed back in the dream, the woods gone, only his home and the ground around it remained, along with her body. Like in his memory, he dropped the planks he'd been carrying for the roof, she had only wanted to help him, and ran to her side. He laid his hands upon her broken body as she sputtered and shook, her eyes wide with fear and pain. He willed himself to heal her as he had done to himself several times before, tears running down his face, anguish suffocating him, but.. Instead, her life vanished from her eyes. "YOU FAILED ME!"


⇝ ⇝ ⇝ ⇝

Rowan shot up in bed, his hands searching for her, Aundia, yet all he found was blanket. All he found was empty bed. He gave a loud curse, throwing the covers off himself to reveal his sweat drenched body, only covered by loose fitting trousers. He should not have rested, he should have known she'd come for him again in his dreams. If only he'd been as strong back then as he was now, maybe he could have.. Fixed.. Something. He gave his shaggy hair a comb through, only to have his hand snag a few strands. He sill couldn't heal another person fully, only mere wounds, but he had to try. For her. 'It won't bring her back.' He knew the thought was true, but dammit, he had to make up for it.. Somehow.

Boisterous laughter interrupted his brooding, startling him at first until he remembered where he was. His tent was among many in their camp, set between the border of Citadel and Bog. His nose crinkled at the mere thought of the smell of that place, how thieves could camp themselves there, he knew not. If it was even thieves that inhabited the place, many knew not, the word was simply that people vanished and were never seen again, lead away by someone.. Or something. Just being this close left him feeling odd and unsafe. He gave a slight shiver, one he couldn't blame purely on his half-naked state, then he burst into motion, standing from his bedroll, heading to his small pile of gear. He'd dress in his normal attire, which the other's said was overkill, but he still believed there was need for this particular 'overkill', he didn't fully trust the other men or the 'peace' the scholars spoke of. The only one Rowan could trust was Patronous and when he wasn't around, Rowan had no reason to trust the others. He knew he was being paranoid, but he'd not leave himself vulnerable anymore, if he could help it. Not after all that he'd been through.

He retrieved the knife from under the edge of his bedroll and sheathed it at his side. His bow was slung over his shoulder, comfortably settling beside his quiver. He gave a muffled sigh, then exited the cover of his tent, allowing the outside world to come into view. Rowan started in the direction of the man on watch nearest his tent, the one who faced towards the Citadel. He took a glance around, taking note of the other three men there. They were the best of the best, chosen by Patronus personally; he didn't quite trust them, but that was just his way. "Relief has come, if you wish to rest or return to the others," Rowan spoke up, giving the man a once-over and a nod. The other man gave a visible sigh, as if guard duty had been an immense load on his shoulders and he was now glad to be rid of it, he gave a friendly nod in return. Rowan watched as the man made his way to his tent to probably rest for a bit before Patronus' return. This night was a big night for some people out there in the city. The custom was all but lost on him, he knew the story, yet.. The cavern had kept him isolated from such things for so long that the tradition had not imprinted itself upon him. Rowan turned toward the Citadel's general location, his gaze alert now, focused. He slipped the bow from his shoulder, holding it as his side, ever ready for any sort of danger.

Knowing how popular a celebration tonight was, he'd have to be wary of any individual approaching their camp. Tonight promised to be a long one..


___▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅

⇝xxLOCATION: At camp
⇝xxWITH: No one
⇝xxFEELING: Uneasy

[ll Inanis ll]

Roots and foliage navigated the thicket at a velocity that no conventional beast or man could endure. For a mount so large, not but a blare did outflow from it. On the contrary, the familiar had occasionally become one with the preexisting woodland to guide its master with greater care. The white sage was seated upright with his attention focused on a gentle progression through this place of mourning veil and awry corridors. His skin was becoming damp with the moisture beading the blackness like fine jewelry. This place had its way of throwing balance off kilter. The wail of betrayal blowing through limbs scratched at one another as a memorial. Anyone not connected to this place would be unable to hear what he could. The forgotten sang tragically their requiem that should not become an awareness to an outsider’s ears. Bare was the deciduous timber, even free from the coat of snow that covered the remaining lands. No one in the region understood or questioned why the trees of this place were capable of defrosting ice fangs or frozen dusting. It was common sense that organic matter retaining heat would melt any wintry accessory; however trees should not be naturally of a mind to do so.

His emerald attendant was fast asleep, as they both imprinted further into the memory of the forest. She was cradled by the knotty backbone of the mystic forest king. Esper’s vessel must have been well-worn afar from what she was habituated with. With a hushed advance the wooden cradle produced limbs to retain her tenderly during their jaunt. Strands of the woman’s extensive jade shimmered and embossed designs even as they descended the pale verge of her arms and face. The elder skimmed her pose with fleeting gaze. She had always been a unique child to their people. Esper was birthed from a pair that had been just as improbable as Nicu’s forbearers. The slim extensions of her body arranged themselves with slumbering grace. A floral creeper housed her with cushioned arrangements and heat was conducted to keep the accomplice comfortable and ward against the damp chill. She almost reminded him of a forest spirit; the way she presented herself was pure and disobeyed her sundry ancestry. Miriel visited the thought that she did not share an ageless reality with him, and it made him feel as if something dear was quelling his heart.

Rustling was prominent at his flank. Soon after hearing the distinguishing disturbance he was sure that his familiar had broken into the nucleus of the forest. His forlorn eyes tracked the status of the landmark that absorbed most of his concern. “Halt.” The spoken split the whispering environment and forced his mount into a stand still. With expectation he gaped at the focal point most renowned that even a blind man would make remark. There it stood well above the tree canopy; an ancient splendor of Atara’s past age. Sprawling bough lingered in tiers and display foliage of silver leaf in full growth. Off season or not, its state of evolution never faltered. Most unnatural, the liquid silver refrained from the cycle of life. Bending upon the air currents were a handful of free falling fragments, like mirror shards embedding into the ground. They flipped like so before meeting their destination of lavender and ferny moss inlay. Unlike the greater part of trees that established this forest, this singular olden sapwood was deafeningly still. The perfect evil was most often beautiful beyond the ability to express in the tongue of man. As sure was this spectacle before him. He had lingered too long gazing at something that had no earthly business surviving a winter season. This tree refused to lay dormant for reasons only he could understand and mourn in silence. With a nudge of hip and knee his mode of transportation moved along at a swiftness that would place him, and his sleeping disciple, inside the city limits in a collection of short instances.

The white sage had almost disregarded the movement, had it not been for the illumination of his familiar and keen depiction of his eye. A silhouette was wandering the murky outlet of the river in naught but damp cloth and a bundle kept close to its body. Save for a few animals in the distance he did not register the heat signature of more than one singular humanoid shadow staggering the vicinity. A band of thieves awaiting a oblivious traveler was unlikely. Staggering? Was this person injured? He commonly left the people of Audacia to their own fates, never interfering with what was destined to happen. To counter his reason, was it not destiny that lead him here to be at this moment? The urgency to commit to his goodwill overruled the quiet habit to overlook those that generally brought to him more harm than good. “Stand.” The wood and foliage beast halted immediately creaking and cracking against the surge of weight. He made no sudden movement to dismount the colossal stag he sat astride and only observed the figure stumble and sway along the pathway of death. “Humans are such precarious mortals.” Then again they were no different than the great mother. Once the equilibrium had been disrupted it brought them more rapidly to fatality.

With the outlet of a sigh, Miriel lay the forest dressed steed into an earthen bed. He could no longer bear witness to the happenings made by the unstable figure stumbling from the riverbed. At this distance it was nearly impossible to discern the aliment of the stranger. Bare feet met with the frigid drift of snows. It gathered a well known needling sensation at his ankle and almost swallowed his calf. Before that could happen he motioned forward to eventually contact the mystery individual halfway at there toil. His gate was well rehearsed and with each step the picture was more apparent. A woman? and she is drenched.... Obviously, the waver in her posture and ability to animate her legs was due to the clutches of bitter restriction. He had no reason to ask after the details of her situation nor did he feel the need to vocalize his approach. It was becoming obvious that she was in no state to carry on conversation let alone register the dominion of consciousness. Her body was moving unconsciously and its sole purpose, from what he could gather, was what she held dear to her belly. A beast? The dark skinned female lugged something of great worth. Something she cherished in excess well above that of her own preservation and it was wrapped in fibers of wool and hope.

A sturdy arm congregated at her waist to cease her actions. Her heaving lungs rattled and the chattering of ivory stamped like jittery horses. Her strangled exhale was hot only to be replenished by winter’s stabbing fury. No doubt her throat must have felt raw and tasted metallic. Soon her innermost warmth would be claimed by the air of frost. “You may rest now.” His voice respected a dialect that no Audacian would easily be acquainted with but he realized she was in no condition to bear it in mind. So cold. Warm flat of his palm had been lain against her forehead long fingers shifting thick tresses from her temple and forehead. The aged male gauged the slow skulk of death as redeemable. She would need to be liberated from the garments that leeched her body temperature, however, and soon after swaddled in heat. The Elder put to the back of his mind the sensation he established upon touching her. It was one that he refused to acknowledge for risk of leaving her to amble the borderline of the hereafter. At this point in time, an indistinct whimper and whine was audible over her struggle to keep hyperventilation from occurring.

Squamish male stooped enough to collect the slender woman, and the bundle of life she bore, smoothly into the crook of his arms. The blade of her shoulders and the back of her knees distributed the weight evenly in his grasp. He balanced the combined load of owner and beast into his chest. He demanded his already weary body to accept the nearly there strain. So light was her presence, even when drenched and packing belongings. His strength was not limited to human specifications so accomplishing the task was managed easily enough though the possibility the animal would stir was cause for concern. “Esper.” He spoke far louder than normal so that his voice would carry passed the crunch of snow, rush of distant rivers, and gasps of the woman's quivering breath. He had hoped the fellow traveler had been roused by now.