Tales of the Betrothed (closed)

[Laser Rain]

Christopher Metus

His teeth gritted a little, of all the damnable things that could happen he was injured at this time? Right when something a bit more dangerous than a handful of oversized mosquitos came around? Ugh. His wounds were still open too. He let go of his supporting ally and dropped to one knee again. From his chest, he tore away his shirt, part of which was wrapped around his arm and the rest, his side. With a slight adjustment to his pauldrons, he leaned up against the support on the bridge, he tried to avoid putting weight on Kiya, but it was difficult. The button up shirt he had on previously was absolutely shredded now that it had become bandages. He sort of shrugged it off, in his bag he had plenty to wear, but wouldn’t put it on until he was properly cleaned up and fit once more. His torso laid bare now, the pale, boney thing looked almost sickening. His ribs jutted out slightly, but enough to make them look defined.

His wiry fingers reached up and tugged on his left collarbone, then tested his right. A deep scratch in his pauldron made his face twist around some; he had gotten them made post-prison. Right after he ascended to his own, personal throne. He had planned for a helmet to be made, but he guessed that it’d be better to just buy one while he was traveling. The appearance a Rite put off truly made a statement. Everyone from the city knew of the murderer-sage, how couldn’t they? So he put up his armor, both literally and mentally, to show that forgiveness was there but not simple. Questions from his group arose, how would they pass it? He simply had no idea. The thing was monstrous too. This was all getting to his head, making him anxious and irritated. ‘Submit.’ A voice in his head told him. He often struggled with his own defeatist attitude. ‘Submit.’

He had a headache. They didn’t have time to dawdle here, especially him. He coughed a tiny bit and stood up straight. A slight second wind was coming in. He had absolutely no plan but he did know that they had no time to sit there and discuss it for any extended period of time. “Any plan. Now.” He demanded.

~~~Of course, it came.~~~

His eyes had dulled somewhat; he was living, and likely wouldn’t die if they could at least get some real bandages on him quickly. When Jean approached them, he spoke to the man for one of the first times. ”You wouldn’t be able to help with this, would you?” While Metus was no prince, he was respected in his own kingdom to about the same degree. He saw social classes as natural but pointless. All of the travelers, he would treat the same and speak freely to. This was also a good chance to test some of them. He pulled his shirt off his side to expose torn skin, ripped flesh and a fresh little spurt of blood ran down to his hip, which he wiped back off. Absolutely abominable that he was in this situation, the old him would have no scars to show for a day like this. The old him was dead.

Regardless, his brain snapped back in to the present situation, too often he drifted into introspective lulls. Prison time would do that to someone. There wasn’t much for him to do down there until he started to pray, and even that took over his mind. He sacrificed an old soul, drenched in blood, for a new one bathed in regrets. He hated that he was relatively negative still, and efforts often went to changing that, but there was only so much one could do. The Rite was well respected, but never much of a companion to anyone back home, except those who needed to vent about their (often insignificant) sins.

"Yeah well they'll put that on your tombstone as the last thing that you said. i never wanted to kill a man, like i want to kill you man."
The years of pain boiled over, trading blows across the counter.
And when that devil was down he grabbed for his empty old friend jack.
He caught his eye as he took his last breath and that vice went to his head again and again.
"Dear god what have you done?"

[azuresky808]

I will become a torch for you, an aerial.
I will fall from the sky like ancient radio waves of flawed concrete.
Through underground springs and freezing subterranean rivers.
Through the bacteria of my gut and heart.

ДlєхЇ Chєrnσвчl
Яítє σf Ғσrtunє

When Alexi saw Jean, of all people, to come up to them with the care free attitude only a prince could have he was almost saddened. They fought tooth and nail to save the little one and now he comes strolling up and groping for the babe. He would have objected but alas Jean was just too fast to seize the baby. "Well human babies are typically fed brest milk," he said in an informative tone, "though this a a faerie, I really do not know what they would eat." Looking back at Annabelle with a smile he asked, "don't suppose you know?"

When Jean mentioned an 'evil baby' his smile faded. Once again another reminder of how grave this situation was. "It seems the little one's emotions control the insects," he said softly looking from rooftop to rooftop at the bees that were about them. His sentence fell short as his eyes rested on the figure struggling to get up.

He was a sight all right. Pale skin, caked in blood, his figure was by far in worse condition than any of them were. "Hold that thought," he told Jean quickly before parting with the group moving over toward the man who was struggling to rise. The illusion he was creating for the baby was waning anyway for his energy reserves were not infinite. At that point if the baby was hungry an illusion could not help so he let it fall.

When Alexi reached the man he responded saying, "I am as real as the sun is bright." He laced an arm under the man's weak frame and helped him stand. "Looks as if fortune smiles upon you today," he said with a warm smile, "so let's get you somewhere safer than out here." He looked back toward the group, at Jean in particular. They probably found a good place to stay. Deciding that it was probably best to follow Jean for the moment he slowly walked back supporting the man's weight with his arm.

Through the bottomless boat and forgotten trawlers where nobody has died.
Like the hermit and Lot’s wife, I will fossilise and open a hole in the rock to admit me through.
I will hold the hand you offer to me; from the summit down to this well,
into the dark waters where the small flowers creep for the sun.

ooc: welcome to the RP! :3

[Musical Stereo]

xxdαlєиα ѕиoωxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxRιte oƒ Faιtн ☼

He stumbled INTO faith and thought,
❝God, this is all there is?❞
The PICTURES in his mind arose,
And began to B R E A T H E.

─» The golden haired woman didn't even expect to see the other handful people who had left them, but they were lead by no one but Jean-Baptiste. Immediately, she tensed up and she was almost took a step back when he suddenly ran up to her, his arms out as if she would just hand over the child like his servant. Well, she didn't move. In fact, she cuddled the young infant closer as she tried to calm her down a little bit more by rocking her. "Yes, it is. And the last time someone else held it, she continued to cry. I don't want to risk our lives, so I will hold onto her." Dalena's smile and tone were mixed together but fake happiness and passive aggression. She wouldn't even hand over the child if her life depended on it, which it did.

She almost took another step back when Jean poked the young infant's nose. Golden eyes glared at the Prince as she sighed. What did faeries eat? "Like Alek said, usually human babies drink breast milk, but I have no idea what this poor little girl eats." Her voice had dropped all passive-aggression towards Jean and she spoke with general concern about the young infant. She quietly started rocking the child back and forth. She could see that Alek's illusion was starting to fade away and she knew that the infant was starting to stir in her arms. She continued to gently rock her so she wouldn't start to cry just yet.

"No Jean-Baptiste, this is not an evil baby. I think we wouldn't have come back if it was." A little bit more anger was seeting from Dalena as he just stared the other blonde down. She was still rocking the hungry baby as she told herself to calm down. Slowly, she did, she released the tension in her shoulders and silently prayed to her Gods to forgive her for almost losing her temper.


[ ooc: rada step away from the baby ]

[cypress8blade]

Life is only a dream
....and we are the imagination of ourselves.

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Traiho stared at the man as he spoke, becoming a bit more confused. Confused and relieved. He looked onward towards the group the man had glanced at, then gave a slight chuckle.

"Fortune smiles upon me, huh?" he said then started to laugh again, "If anything I have had to deal with in the past few weeks is any kind of omen, I'm likely to get eaten by that big centipede thing I saw before the day is out." Traiho was very grateful for the man's help. He hoped his joking wouldn't come off as too rude or weird. He had just run out of better ways to express himself for the time being. His pace quickened slightly with the assistance he now had. He looked over at his helper coming to a realization.

"I feel like I should know the name of my saviors and that you probably will want mine in return," he said giving a small, but grateful smile, "I go by Traiho usually. Hey, you're from Salorite, correct?" His time spent taking people from city to city as a hired body guard had let him get to know several of the other cultures quite well. Then, Traiho blinked in surprised at his own question. He had expected other faeries coming back from outside the city to be here, but not people from other parts or Yardis. He adjusted his glasses to better study the group they were heading towards. Thankfully, when he was captured, the guards had taken literally everything off of his person except his clothes. When he managed to escape, he luckily stumbled upon the spectacles in the same room as his weapon. As he looked upon the group, they appeared to be a collage of peoples from every part of Yardis.

"What the? Zuleidi...Gradian..... Why are you all here? And...is that a baby?!" he asked looking rather horrified at the thought of someone bringing an infant into this place since it was, literally, swarming with danger. He looked back to the helpful strange with an energy behind his eyes that seemed to be in direct opposition to the amount of damage his body had taken.

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As long as one person lives in darkness then it seems to be a responsibility to tell other people.

[Rada Han]

ImPeRfEcTiOn is в є α υ т у,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxⓂⒶⒹⓃⒺⓈⓈ is gєníus,
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxand it is better to be absolutely ɾïḋïсυløυṡ than absolutely ๒◊ЯⅰиG.
.........








When Dalena didn't comply, the Prince made a sour face until the Salor, Alexi chimed in with his part about how the baby controlled the insects... and she was saying that it wasn't an evil baby?! The two blondes stared at each other down for a good minute before somebody said anything.

Jean-Baptiste certainly detected the passive-aggression in Dalena's voice. She, of all people, appeared to annoy him the most.

"You're lucky I didn't break your glasses while they were still on your face, so mind your tongue, mountain goat." It was at this point where he would slap whatever she was holding out of her arms to spill all over the floor and silence the room, but this time it was a baby and this Prince wasn't keen on slapping up babies. In an instant, as soon as his eyes left hers, his demeanor improved a hundred percent. "And if you wouldn't bring back anything evil, why is Zaara still here?"

When a new face appeared at the door, Jean couple feel the entire room freeze. No one expected to see anyone new in the city who hadn't been turned into an insect. This guy didn't have wings and looked as if he'd been savaged by the beasts already.

"Are you the one that killed those faeries near the entrance?" The Zuleidan noticed his weapon. He was sure everyone noticed it. How could they just let someone in so easily?



xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx《The Trickster Prince》
.........

[XSenkoX]

Sleep had been a welcome respite for the young elf. A long-lost mistress that swept him away in her comforting arms as soon as he was laying prone on the borrowed faerie bed. He was vaguely aware that Sonya had crawled into bed with him and that she was saying something. He managed a mumble in response, but whatever to content had been was lost as quickly as he was. Rest was dreamless, fortunately, and the prince was oblivious to Sonya's leaving him to appease the demon's hunger. Her return went much the same way, though his hand managed to find its way to her hip and rest there.

And so they lay until the others returned.

Reriic stirred reluctantly when the tromping feet and obnoxious voices of his fellows announced their arrival at the faerie houses. He rolled over and attempted to seek shelter in unconsciousness again, but it was long gone and he only managed to get his arm lodged uncomfortably against Sonya. A defeated huff punctuated the opening of his eyes, the orange orbs staring bitterly at the ceiling as he retrieved his limbs from the whore. Quietly he wondered just how long the two of them could remain hidden from the larger group and avoid the stupidity that came from travelling with so many royals and their guards, but before long the desire to move again overrode the desire to stay put.

Sitting up in the bed, he kicked his feet over the edge and perched there for a second. He was still fully clothed, Reriic noted with an arched eyebrow. Normally he at least managed to get his boots off, no matter how tired, but not today apparently.

"They're back," he hissed to Sonya while tugging the tie from his hair. A curious hand revealed that the black mess knotted something awful from the riding and a cursory glance around the room found there to be a brush on a nearby dresser. Rising from the bed, he snatched it up and cleaned it of the previous owner's hair before running it through his own. "Should we go and visit the others? I should probably check on the fire-breather's eyes at the very least. See if he will berate me again so I have an excuse to grind him into a pulp."

The brush clamoured unceremoniously back to the dresser and Reriic pulled his hair back again. If it was possible, the prince was in a worse mood after his few hours of sleep.

[K33LA]

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"Who is there?" Kunal was half a second from setting the entire house one fire when Elya spoke. He had not spoken with her overmuch, though he certainly recognized her voice. She was chatty... to say the least.

"Are you daft?! Do you think it's wise to sneak up on a blind man who has little reservation about setting people on fire?" The bench creaked and Kunal could feel the pressure of her weight next to him. The elf was pressing his buttons, and Kunal was not a patient man. When she set the bread on his lap, the Gradian stiffened, his hands balling into fists. She continued her speech, which, of course, was wasted on him. Her attempts to make him thankful were pathetic at best... "Don't complain?" Kunal scoffed to himself, intending to continue; at the moment, however, Chandar entered and delivered unfortunate news. Rohan was dead. His only capable guard was gone. He stood, the bread falling from his lap and hitting the floor with a dull thud. Before Kunal could register, the candles in the room had blazed to life, their flames pregnant with his anger. Fiery tongues licked the walls and ceiling in a menacing fashion, threatening to catch and spread if not quelled immediately.

Whatever Kunal was saying or even thinking, he could not say. And he did not care. He rarely did.

xxx

[Angst Werewolf]

xxxxxx ♨ Chαndαr Hαrí
{{ The Gradian Smith Mercenary }}
"I am a superstar and I don't care who you are!"

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Location: Laelie- Kanaienman

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It became very clear very fast that Kunal was most displeased with the situation. Chandar swallowed heavily and forced himself to step away from the door. The prince may have been blind, but cowering against the door like a kicked dog was not doing the would-be guard any favors. So he settled for wandering over towards the table. Save for the loaf of bread on the floor, the food was untouched and Chandar felt a twinge of annoyance. The food was not poisoned, something Chandar had not-quite-purposely seen to, and yet Kunal hadn't bothered to even have a little.

Chandar had the feeling that if Bashirah had offered the food, the prince would have eaten it without a second thought.

He scowled and leaned against the table and opted to ride out Kunal's anger in silence. Speaking didn't seem to do anything for the prince, and the hole he'd dug himself into was deep enough, thank you very much.

But the smith was not given much time to stew in his resentment; Kunal's anger abruptly manifested itself in the form of fire. The table he'd been leaning against burst into flames and the smith let out a shout of surprise and pain as his one ungloved hand was burned. He lept away from the table, holding the hand to his chest and chanced a quick look down. The burn wasn't nearly as bad as it would have been if a non-Gradian had been in his position, but the skin of his palm had turned a dark, almost mottled brown. Chandar closed his hand into a fist; the burn was small enough to not be noticeable, so long as he kept it hidden.

He made a note to find a new pair of gloves as soon as he could to replace the one he'd used trying to save Kunal's eyes.

The fire was spreading in the small house, and Chandar turned his attention to that. He doubted very much that he could put it out, but there was a chance he could at least tone it down. It was worth a shot, in the least. He leaned over and placed his left (and gloved) hand on the small table near the door. His eyes narrowed as he tried to will the flames to shrink. But it didn't work. The only sign of his efforts was the fish bowl on the table that promptly shattered as the water inside boiled and vaporized.

Well, this wasn't going to work. Talking Kunal down was clearly out of the question, and there was only one solution that Chandar could think of- Bashirah.

Chandar wondered for a moment if he should verbally excuse himself, but then a piece of the ceiling fell on his head, scorching a good portion of his hair and covering most of his body with ash. The smith hastily beat out the flames, leaving himself with several burnt tips and coated in soot. That was enough of a sign for him. The guard kicked the door open (mainly for show, as the door was not aflame) and stalked out of the cottage.

The smith glanced around, unsure of exactly where to look. Surely they were back from wherever they had gone. He did not want to go searching around the forest by himself. Movement caught his eye as the door to the house next door swung closed. Well, that was convenient. Chandar hurried to the house and thrust the door open, not caring if he smacked someone in the face. It was crowded and the guard took a moment to locate Bashirah in the mob.

Luckily, his target was nearby; the groups had returned with supplies another injured person, and... was that a baby? Who in their right mind would bring a baby along for something like this? Focus, Chandar. He had no doubt that he'd find out the details sooner or later, whether he wanted to hear them or not. It was then that he found Bashirah, who was standing with Jean and a faerie that Chandar didn't recognize. Another insect to deal with. How wonderful. Chandar' scowl deepened. He brushed past most of the group, leaving a small trail of smoke behind him.

"Princess Bashirah," he greeted with a brief bow once he reached her. "Your brother... requests your presence," he stated; almost on cue, one of the windows of the mushroom house was blown out with a low boom and tinkle of glass that could be heard inside. "As soon as is convenient, of course." He sniffed once, then turned his head to the side and sneezed, expelling a cloud of ash from his nose.

OOC/ EDITED TO FIX MY DERP.

[cypress8blade]

Life is only a dream
....and we are the imagination of ourselves.

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The feeling of annoyance coursed through Traiho as he stared at the young Zuleidan. His brow furrowed in intense disbelief as a look indignation soon followed.

"I have spend my whole life protecting the weak. There is no honor to be drawn from mercilessly slaughtering for your own amusement. And, do I look like I have been in any state to be killing anyone recently?" he asked in an angry and passionate voice, "And just so you know, I was captured by the guards of this city. Do you know what faeries do to people in prison? I suffered at the hands of these closed minded people. I am very lucky to be alive at this point. How dare you accuse me of murder!" Traiho normally would have been even tempered and taken the question in stride, but hunger and injury had sapped away any of his patience. He glared at the young man noting he seemed to be a very sheltered individual. Traiho had taken care of many rich people in his travels. He only hoped that this group wasn't in as much trouble as he already was.

"I ask that you do not insult my intentions just because of my weapon," he said finally after a long moment of silence. His stoney gaze finally soften to his usual state of tranquility. Traiho stood up as straight as he could adjusting his hair and what was left of his bloodied shirt, then limped over to the nearest chair, collapsing into it. He set his guan dao against the ground then started to put pressure on his still bleeding chest. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose then looked at everyone in the room.

"I thank you for your kindness in letting me into this house you have taken. Though I am curious abut the child," he said in a more gentle and relaxed tone now. Once he was done speaking, a new person came over. What he said blew Traiho away. 'A Princess?! Here?!' What is going on with these people? he though to himself as he look up at the woman in question. Gradians always made Traiho uncomfortable. He adjusted himself in his seat, but winced loudly from his injuries. The window being blown out didn't really faze the man. Many things in this strange city seemed to not faze him anymore.

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As long as one person lives in darkness then it seems to be a responsibility to tell other people.

[0o0gizmo0o0]

x x x x x x x x x ✗ K o r a x Z h a d d a g h

Eventually their group had managed to sneak past the giant centipede. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be all that interested in them in the first place. Almost everyone had gathered in one of the abandoned faery houses, though she did notice that Reriic and Sonya were missing. Needless to say, the matter made her more than a little uncomfortable, and she didn’t know what she should do about it. Everything had just turned into such a great mess so quickly, and she wished that she didn’t have to think about it at all. Once at the mushroom house, she’s done her best to bandage herself up with some of the supplies that had been brought back from the market place. Seeing as she had never had to treat an injury before, she couldn’t be sure that she had done a very good job, however, she assumed that it was better than nothing. Every now an then, she would look over at Dalena, who still held the infant faery in her arms. Kora was nervous at the idea of the child crying again, especially since it appeared that one of the Gradian guards had been killed by the insects.

The thought sent a chill up her spine... since his insides had apparently been eaten. Already unsettled and on edge, when someone she did not recognize came through the door, she jumped slightly, and squeaked. Eyes shifting from side to side while covering her mouth, she couldn’t believe the sound had come out of her. Kora was not the type to squeak. She must have been more tired than she thought. When she was pretty sure that no one had noticed, she allowed herself to relax. Alexi had helped the man into the room, before he plopped down into a chair. He appeared to be in worse physical condition than any one of them, and judging from the spear like weapon he kept on his person, he must have been fighting just like they had. Only for much longer. It only took a moment to see that he had no wings, which meant that he was not a faery. What in the world was he doing in Laelie? Showing annoyance (the most common first reaction to Jean-Baptsiste), it became clear that he had been held prisoner by the faeries. One brow arched in curiosity, she asked “How in the world did you find yourself in Laelie?”

To be more precise, what she really wanted to know was how long he had been prisoner. What if he had seen something else in the wide world before these strange phenomena had begun to plague the continent? Shazgard was not all that far from Laelie... maybe he knew something of what was happening there... Suddenly, Chandar burst into the small house, asking for Bashirah. The sound of breaking class, along with a small boom, could be heard from outside, and the princess turned her head abruptly in that general direction. “What the....” she gasped. It seemed as though Kunal was having a meltdown... again...

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[PhantasmicRose]

♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡ ♠ ♢ ♣ ♡

Sonya woke gently by the feel of the stirring prince beside her. It occurred to her then that she had never actually slept at a man’s side before. The prostitute had grown accustomed to removing herself from the room once her job was done. To linger would be subjecting herself to unpleasant things such as cuddling and pillow talk, and it exponentially increased the odds of her being robbed.

The elf stretched out over the bed now that there was sufficient room for it, her arms sliding across the pillows and her legs slowly pushing the sheets to the floor in their lazy movement. Her body felt refreshed, filled with life like sickness and mortality couldn’t touch her. The heat of her body had faded, the fever melted away in her sleep. Her pale skin no longer appeared so tallow, her cheeks no longer flushed, and even her eyes were tinted with alertness and concentration. When she rose to her feet, Sonya held herself strong and to her full height, chin tilted upward. She felt powerful.

The source of this life wasn’t unknown to her. The memory was foggy like a dream, but she had felt her hand tighten around the Gradian’s throat, felt his windpipe crumble and his ribs splinter as she tore into them. Her body had been lifted and carried and controlled like a puppet on strings, but Sonya was aware of her actions through the slaughter. She could have stopped if she really tried, she could have willed the evil spirit back into its human shell where it belonged so she could move her body once more. But to stop it would have meant her own death. The whore found no pleasure in killing a man who had never wronged her, and maybe a part of her deep inside would come to feel something like guilt for what she allowed to happen, but she wanted to survive and thrive. Above all else, Sonya cared about herself and that would never change.

“Could you really heal his eyes?” Sonya asked quietly, her glass stare watching Reriic’s dark shape. She was tugging at the skintight riding outfit in an attempt to straighten it as she spoke, but navigating the many buttons and straps by feel wasn’t getting her far. “You could give him his sight back?”

There was an unspoken question between them. Could you heal me? Normally when Sonya spoke, there was little inflection in her voice except for contempt or superiority, so the hope that found its way into her words now was strange to hear. But the cynical woman wouldn’t let such a foolish thing as wishful thinking get in her way, and she shook her head and raised a hand as if ending the subject there. She’d seen numerous healers before. None had rewarded her hard-earned coin with anything more than disappointment. This prince would fail where the others had, she knew, and so she moved on from the thought.

I will heal you, girl. In time.
Be patient.
Do as I say.
I will be your sight.

“We don’t have to return to the others just yet,” Sonya muttered, her mind going back to her devious plans of controlling this boy. The sensual note that had seeped into her voice out of nowhere was almost disturbing, and certainly something the prince had noted to be weary of by now. “We could… go back to bed a little longer if you wanted.”

Sonya nodded to the tangled sheets behind her with a smile carved by the devil’s hands. The sound of her knee-high boots against the dusty wood floor was harsh in the silent room as the whore approached Reriic, closing the small gap between them before he could answer. Thin fingers had been working at her clothes to right them, but now Sonya let them pluck at the top of her corset to loosen it visibly, letting the tidy knot unravel a bit. Her chest rose as she took in a deep breath and slid her body to Reriic’s, her searching touch trailing down his arm to make a mental note of his outline. She was absorbing every ounce of information about the man in the most distracting way. Now her fingers slid along his belt, anticipating a knife or two. She touched his back and drew him in, feeling for his muscle there to gauge his strength. She wanted to explore him like a spy in foreign lands.

“What do you think?” Sonya breathed, tilting her face up to Reriic, her lips ready to meet his. She’d have him in the palm of her hands and…

“Is… something on fire?” Sonya blinked a few times as the scent caught her nose, alerting her to a danger nearby. In the span of a breath she’d forgotten all about Reriic and she took a step back from him, turning her head back and forth like she’d find the source of the smoke. It certainly wasn’t from the home they were in, but it was close. If there was one thing Sonya hated above all else, it was the searing ferocity of an inferno. The elf’s hand tightened over Reriic’s arm cautiously and she looked back to him, waiting for an explanation. She looked mildly disturbed.

❝ I'll ¢υт your little нєαят out 'cause уσυ made мє ¢яу ❞

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[Cherzooka]

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For how long now had he been imprisoned now? Had it been one week? Or was it up to two now? The flow of time had become so hard to follow since his capture. All he knew was that it was far to long. He wanted to be free, this wooden prison was stifling. He wanted food, not that slop the faeries rarely fed him, real food with taste and substance. He also wanted to know why. Why had he been captured and imprisoned without any sort of logical reason. All he had been doing was studying some of the local flora of the woods, and from his understanding he hadn't even that close to the city. (Had they not knocked him unconscious when they captured him he would be significantly more sure of the distance.)

But even in his weaken and beaten form, he could tell that conditions were no better on the outside of this cage, in the city of Laelie. What he could see of the city quickly became a ghost town, devoid of almost all life. The small number of guards that did stay showed signs of... illness to say the least. Faded wings, skin no longer giving off a healthy glow and looking almost hard to the touch. Even their beloved queen, seemed to be ailed but whatever plagued the city. He had only seen her for the briefest of moments, but even then she was easily the most affected by whatever this was. Luckily since the outbreak the guards had felt his routinely torture to be less important than before.

He noticed that the few guards left seemed to have disappeared. Where had they gone? He had a feeling that he may have fallen unconscious for some time. Something that seemed to grow in frequency as his time here went on. A shortsword lay just barely within arms reach from the confines of his cage, likely a weapon previously carried by a guardsmen. He reached his bruised hand out to grab it, just barely able to reach the hilt of the weapon to pull it closer and finally grab it and pull it into the cage. He began work on breaking the lock now. By hitting it with the sword. (Hey, He's physically and mentally exhausted right now, complicated and brilliant escape plans are completely out of the question.) The lock must have been weak to begin with as it yielded and broke after two or three hits from the sword.

And with that he was free. From his prison at least, he was still trapped within this city and this forest. He found his belongings in a makeshift storage container nearby. His pack, containing his books, paper and ink, and a small amount of now spoiled food. As well as Theia locked in her own cage. She looked just as weak as himself, but upon seeing her master she perked up almost instantly, tailing wagging as fast as it could possibly go. She seemed even more happy and excited when Eston broke the lock to her cage, letting her out. She barked loudly twice before rubbing her head on her master's leg begging for a loving pat on the head and maybe even a good ear scratching she begged with her brown eyes. He happily obliged, a small smile on his face as he pet the black furred beast. "I missed you too girl," Theia barked again in reply and rubbed her head further into his hand.

His trusty companion back at his side and his belongings back in his possession, it was now time to find his way out of here. If there was truly some sort of pandemic or some other kind of catastrophe here he definitely didn't want to stay here for much longer. Not to mention he had to find food and water for both him and Theia. He gripped the shortsword tighter and ceased the loving reunion of friends letting his hand rest on her head between her flopped ears. She barked. And with that he set out into the city.

From what he remembered of the city from back when he first visited it, back at the young age of eighteen, he was heading towards the residential area of Laelie. The Kan-something or other. He would have to pull out his books on faeries when he got home. If he got home that is. A small stream of smoke floated up from the area he headed towards. Had a small fire broke out or...? A part of him hoped for other people to be there, while another hoped for the opposite. If there was faeries there he could easily be locked up again, he was an escaped criminal essentially now. But other non-faerie folk could mean safety. He proceeded slowly. Partly in caution, and partly in not wanting to further aggravate the multitude of large welts on his back. He pulled his hood over his head and headed into the district, shortsword at the ready and faithful companion right behind him.



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[Ariiadne]

▐░ℬasℎiraℎ░▌
『 ℘rincess oƒ GRADIUS 』

A child. Bashirah’s eyes gazed sideways at the restless bundle in Dalena’s arms. Strange. Why had it not been transformed into a little grub, like all of its kin? Had it been alone since everything had changed in Laelie? Or had it just been born? She had heard stories of how the faeries were born of blooming flowers, but it just seemed impossible. She sent over a few more curious glances to the infant as everyone around her talked.

Even before they had reached the camp, Bashirah’s smoke-sensitive nostrils picked up on the scent of smoldering wood. While it was puzzling, it was not worrisome, until Chandar pranced over, soot on his clothing.

"Princess Bashirah, your brother... requests your presence. As soon as is convenient, of course."

The princess’ eyes widened. She knew exactly what this meant. A newcomer had questioned her presence, but he was the least of her concerns. Brushing past Chandar, she simply followed the smell of fire until she came to a home, flames already licking the outer panes of the windows. Jaw clenched, nostrils flared, Bashirah haphazardly let her bags fall to the soft ground before bursting through the doorway, the fire shrinking away as if their perturbed mother had just done the same, angered that they had not quieted down. Her sharp eyes singled in on Kunal, who just stood there, obviously aware of what he had done.

“I leave you,” she began, frustration lacing her words, “with a simple task.” Some of the smaller flames wheezed out of existence at the end of that sentence. Kunal had been caught by surprise by his sister’s sudden appearance, as evidenced by his head jerking in her general direction.

“‘Be civil.’ That’s all I asked,” Bashirah continued, marching over to the table where Kunal had once sat, taking into her hands abandoned pitchers with water still in them. She threw the water on a bouquet of flames that ate at a curtain, and they screamed in agony and betrayal. “And here you are, standing in the middle of a burning home. What a lovely beacon you’ve made!”

Bashirah was not used to being so verbal in anything, even anger, which Gradians were all too comfortable expressing – but mostly as Kunal had done. But his blindness prevented any showcase of this fury, though, so awkward, trembling words would have to suffice.

“Like a moth to the flame. Such a… a cliché. But I’m sure there are some gargantuan moths here that would love to see this… this childish, unnecessary…” She struggled for a moment, trying to pinpoint an adequate term. “… display!” Storming out of the house, Bashirah went into her bags to get another jug of water to douse more flames.

“Was it worth it?” she asked finally, steam – not smoke – now filling the walls of the home. What stubborn flames remained, Bashirah merely called to herself, cupping them in her palm. “These people… they won’t tolerate this. I won’t tolerate this! We’re not in Gradius. And parading around as if we are just isn’t going to work!”

Her fingers smothered the fire in her palm. She stood for a moment, breathing. “This is more than just a journey, Kunal. This is survival. And when you endanger them, you endanger us – me – as well. So… so…”

As her rage began to simmer, Bashirah realized she had never before been so vehement towards her brother. It disappointed her, and scared her, that it had come to this. She stammered, not knowing how to proceed.

“I won’t, and would never, abandon you. Especially now, as your sight fails you. But right now, Jean-Baptiste is being more mature than you are.”

If that didn’t get her point across, she didn’t know what would.

[XSenkoX]

"There are-" He began, only to have the unspoken question waved away. Limitations. There are limitations, he continued silently, clenching his fists in frustration. He had expected her to ask such a thing, considering that to anyone unaware of the prince's failings the two instances of blindness seemed very similar. It was highly probable that the damage actually was similar, to boot, but it was the age of the injuries that rendered Reriic useless to one and not the other. It was why he wasn't even able to help himself.

Rage bubbled under the elf's pale skin and his hands balled up even tighter. He didn't hear Sonya's words or the worrying tone of her voice, only vaguely noticed that she had gestured towards the bed and was smiling a smile to do demons proud.

It was her proximity that snapped Reriic free of his anger-induced trance. He glanced down when her hands flitted away from her chest and stared at the effect of her loosening the corset's strings. After the bathing incident back in Dradecus there wasn't much of Sonya that was left up to the prince's imagination, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate nice breasts when they were presented so willingly. And close. The corner of his mouth twitched as he let his eyes slip closed, but whether it was in annoyance or amusement was uncertain. He responded to her touch with searching hands of his own, though he recorded no information aside from the absent realization that she was no longer hot to the touch.

In Sonya's exploratory groping, she would find no knives in his belt and no muscle beneath his clothes. Aside from his angered looks, Reriic was not a physically imposing young man; nor was he trained in the use of any weapons. Everything he could manage was heavily dependent on his magic, and no probing fingers would reveal that. The two elves leaned in to one another, their lips nearly pressed together...

“Is… something on fire?"

As if waiting for that question, there was a boom, the shattering of glass from nearby accompanying the distinctive smell of smoke and Sonya had stepped away from Reriic. It wasn't their house that was on fire, so why did it matter if the other fools made torches of themselves? He sighed when the grip on his arm tightened and opened his eyes in order to search for the cause of the flames. It was an easy enough guess that one of the Gradians had flipped their lids again and was busy trying to carve a path straight through the forest in order to go home and sulk in their volcano. Assuming that it wasn't a block of ice or something similarly stupid at this point. Reriic voiced his opinion on the situation blandly, gently patting the back of Sonya's hand with his own as he led her outside. It would hardly do for him to convince the whore to calm down and return to their previous intentions, only to have the others come searching and stumble upon them having a better day than the rest, would it?

Once outside, the elves were nearly trampled by Bashirah who was on an warpath to the burning house, cementing Reriic's thought that it had been a Gradian having another meltdown. For such a 'supreme' group of fire-breathers, they were certainly up in arms more often than not. A cold smirk settled on the elf's face and he watched in amusement as the Supreme Princess tromped around with buckets of water to extinguish her brother's wrath.

"Kunal appears to be having another fit," Reriic explained quietly to Sonya amidst the hissing of doused flames, "I wonder what could have happened to set him off like that...? Too many flowers in his bouquet, perhaps?"

The smirk faded along with the fire and soon the elf was left watching smoke drift lazily into the sky while he waited for someone else to go and vent their fury at the Gradian prince. Perhaps the faeries again. They could try to burn down their own homes this time.