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Nuumia stood at attention, his hands at his sides and his black eyes fixed completely on Haellara. She was really doing it. She was really going to accept him. He had no idea how to explain the feeling he currently was imbued with. Only that it made him smile and filled him with a buzz of energy unlike anything he had felt before. Finally Haellara took her place, and he felt himself standing a bit taller in an attempt to be a little closer to her own height. Nuumia's black eyes fixed on the pair of priestess's as they spoke. It felt so unreal! hearing them speaking of him in such a way. Was he smileing too much? he probably was. How many males could honestly say they were as gleeful as he was during such a ceremony? When the Haellara reached for his hand, Nuu practically thrust the small well manicured fingers into her own. Oh, he knew the ring was cursed. But it was a curse he eagerly accepted! Nuumia's eyes shone as he looked upon the house symbol now adorning his small finger. He wanted to speak up. To add a 'I will!' after every sentence concerning him. But it was not his place, and so he remained silent. He allowed the shine of his black eyes and the curve of his lips to speak loudly for himself. And oh! As haellara would direct him to stand and face the gathered crowd, he felt near to bursting at having the honor of being granted Torlyl as his new name. He wasn't Houseless anymore! He was even more then just a member! He was a patron! He felt Haellara grasping his hand harder, and he gently squeezed onto her fingers. He was not about to let her think she had to drag him off like some unwilling male after all! He was going to cling to her and do his best to serve her!

His eyes widening as he continued to watch the approach of Haellara's boots, Mikaril could barely contain his shaking with nervous tension as the magnitude of what he was about to do sunk in. He might only have this one chance, and if he failed, he was certain he would never have such a chance again. Kyil would have no hope left, and he would surely be doomed to suffer a painful death and spend an eternity in the Demonweb Pits being eaten by spiders. He almost prayed a quick prayer to Lolth, but thought better of it. After all, if she approved of Haellara's joining with Nuumia, with this whole ceremony even, then she would most definitely not approve of what he was going to do. He was on his own, without the help of any god or goddess, and he wasn't sure whether to feel more confident or more uncertain.

Then suddenly, the time for uncertainty was past. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Mikaril made his body shoot up like a cork right in front of his surprised brother, and at that moment, time itself seemed to twist and warp, making the moments both slow to a crawl and speed up like a flogged riding lizard. He saw Haellara's face so clearly as he lunged forward, his bound hands reaching for her; surprise mixed with the shock that came with the sudden realization that something that might be beyond her control was happening. Then before he knew it, he was upon her, and his world became a tangle of arms, legs, and golden hair. He saw her baring her teeth, felt her long nails scrape along his arms as he fought to keep her at a length so that she could not put her favorite way of disabling a male into play; with no protection, he would be down in an instant. Her hair was everywhere, flying into his eyes and hampering his vision, which judging by the flashes of murderous red-yellow eyes and gnashing white teeth, was probably for the best.

He saw an opening at last, and his hands shot out and vanished beneath her robe. He heard her angry screech reach a new key at the same instant that he felt his fingers brush against something in an inner pocket; his eyes widened and he felt his pulse quicken as he closed his fingers in a grip he swore he would never break no matter what she did to him next. He was about to pull his hands away before she saw anything, but in a flurry of motion, he felt her strong arms hurl him bodily away, and he actually felt his feet leave the floor for a few seconds. He gasped as he felt himself land hard on his side on the cold stone floor. He moved quickly to get up, and at that moment, time went from fast forward to a crawl. He saw the crowd out of the corner of his eye, gasping at the impudence of a disgraced prisoner attacking the matron on such an occasion, the two priestesses off to the side with looks of disgust and cruel amusement, his brother the guard, moving as fast as he could to intercept, and then there was Haellara. Her hair blew about her face like an illithid's tentacles, her slightly smudged eye designs adding to the terrifying vision of her face, contorted in rage. Her mouth was open, and one hand was clasping the second pendant around her neck while the other hand was stretched out toward him. Her voice, in what seemed like slowed time, was an ugly deep mutter.

He saw the fireball's beginning forming in the palm of Haellara's hand, growing at an alarming rate, and then it left her hand and soared toward him; too fast! It filled his entire vision as it flew toward him; already he could feel the searing heat as it closed in. There was no way he would be able to dodge it. He looked over at Kyil, still kneeling on the floor, looking nothing short of horrified. It gave him the last ounce of strength he needed. Mikaril brought his arms up in a gesture of defense at the very instant the fireball exploded into him, knocking him almost to the far wall, and then down onto his back. He fought to bring air into his scorched lungs, and the reek of burned flesh stung his nose and made his eyes water. His charred arms trembled as they continued to hold themselves up in the same defensive gesture that had done everything and nothing; the ropes that had bound them were burned clean away. Blisters were already forming on his chest and stomach where the skin had not been burned black or clean off.

But at the moment, Mikaril was feeling none of that. He saw Haellara's grin of triumph, the smug looks of the priestesses, the murmer of the crowds. Idiots! They did not see! They did not understand! Were his body more cooperative, he would have risen up and danced. His fist was still locked in that same grip, and a tiny scrap of what looked like burnt paper poked out from his smoking fingers. He managed to bring his arms down and raise his upper half slightly, ignoring the crackling of his skin or the fresh, jagged cuts that resulted, looked Haellara right in the eye, and with a smile nothing short of brilliant, Mikaril slowly uncurled his hand and blew a small scrap of paper from it, where it merrily looped and drifted until it lay on the floor, in plain sight; a thick corner of parchment with the remains of a seal; all that remained of Kyil's ownership papers. He heard Haellara's gasp of realization, and as he witnessed her matching look of shock, he was overcome with a hysterical sort of joy; he had freed Kyil and gotten the better of Haellara, at last. He found himself shaking with laughter, and when he could no longer hold it inside, he found himself bringing it forth until it fairly rang off the walls, banishing the stunned silence. An eerie sound to anyone else present but the ridiculously happy drow who was making it.

Nuumia's sense of glee and exstacy blinded him. He should have been able to respond more quickly. At at the very least he sould have been able to step in the way of Mikaril's lunge. Of course, Hael had been holding him firmly by his onw hand, so it would have been a little difficult to break free of her grip so as to engage Mikaril. Still... Nuu felt no small amount of surprise at the males gall. When Haellara had brought him in, Mikaril had the appearance and manner of a well drugged captive. Now he felt utterly ashamed by his assumption.

Nuumia staggered back a step as Haellara fell under the vault of Mikaril. He felt...unsure to tell the truth. His hand had dipped into his pocket, and he was armed with her preffered weapon. The finger blades...but this was Mikaril. Nuumia knew that Haellara was, to put it simply, touchy about the male. He did not want to start off his Patronage wrong by harming Haellara's favorite toy. Yet at the same time..Wasn't this a very bad thing? His matron was attacked at his bonding ceremony! And he was doing nothing but standing and gaping like a surface elf! Sure, he had his weapon out but..but.. this was a special circumstance for certain! Haellara was no damsel in distress though. As Nuumia hovered with indescion, she managed to throw Mikaril off her. He watched as the male was thrown with such force that Mikaril stumbled away.

Nuumia began to step forwards, but from the corner of his eye he saw Haellara clutch her necklace, and he saw her lift her hand. If ever there was a sign to not get in her way that there surely was it! Nuumia stepped back from Haellara and watched as she cast her spell. A fireball? Nuu threw his arms up over his eyes to sheild them from the painful light. The wash of heat made his skin tingle unpleasently. When he slowly lowered his arm from his face, he was able to easily see the charred and wounded body of Haellara's brother stirring. The voices of the priestesses seemed unusually loud in the silence that followed the blast. He was not certain if they were honestly approving of Haellara's little scene, or mocking her? He turned a little, to glance at the pair of females, though the laughter that started to sound quickly redrew his attention.

"He's... cracked." Nuumia softly spoke as he looked at the laughing Mikaril. Haellara had finally done it. She had totally broken Mikaril's mind. How else and why else would he continue to laugh in such a way even as he experienced one hell of a beating at the hands of his own brothers? Nuumia stood beside Haellara in a state of disbelief, and he began to wonder if the madness was catching as she began to yell back at him. Funny?

She should have been enjoying this. Should have been standing there, drawn up to her full height with her eyes blazing with satisfaction as she watched her brother mercilessly kicked again and again. But Haellara's eyes still blazed with fury, her fists were still clenched so tightly that her nails cut into her palm. Were she not concerned with keeping her air of dignity in the presence of the two priestesses who were her guests, she would have shoved all four males aside and taken over in the punishment being doled out to her singed brother. Instead, she settled for imagining that every kick she saw landing on his unprotected body was done by her, imagining the contact being made by her own foot, enforced by her stronger leg muscles. She didn't have to imagine very hard. It looked as though Mikaril wouldn't be able to survive much more. At that moment, she didn't care if he died under the barrage of blows or not; he might serve her just as well as an example than as a sacrifice. And how it would make her shine under the stern, unrelenting gazes of Lolth's chosen!

Kyil's sudden outburst took her by surprise; in the heat of the moment, she had all but forgotten the pitiful slave. But as she heard him call Mikaril master, something he hadn't done since she had bought him, the realization of what her brother had done sunk in. She had lost Kyil; the toy she was only just beginning to fully enjoy; all that studying up about the sad little male had just been wasted. The papers were destroyed, as were her ties to Kyil as mistress and slave. He would rebel now; he COULD rebel now. Right as that thought drifted through her head, she saw a shimmer of blue light from out of the corner of her eye, and she turned toward Kyil with wide eyes just in time to see him moving swiftly toward the huddle of guards, more aggressive than she had ever seen him before.

She heard the cries of the still-present household, and the exclamations of the two priestesses behind her, and she moved toward Kyil quickly to try and stop whatever it was he was attempting to do. She heard the beginnings of his fire spell; s**t! If he went through with that, the secret would be out about Kyil's ability. The two priestesses would then know that she had been rash enough to keep a bloody SPELL THIEF near her with no restraint, never mind that she had an explanation. No matter how plausible an explanation, if something went wrong, the explanation was absurd, and nothing would convince them otherwise. With a cry more of denial than outrage, Haellara skidded to a stop and squinted her eyes painfully as the flames rolled forth and blew into the guards, high up and easily avoiding the figure of the curled-up drow on the floor. She heard cries and screams and saw one of the guards flying off to the door, flapping his arms as flames licked at his clothes and hair, looking like a gigantic bat that some mischevious drow child had set on fire for sport.

She wasn't concerned with the males as they rolled on the floor, ran around screaming, and used various other means to extinguish themselves. They were easy to replace, and she usually did so anyway without them screwing up, just to keep the blood fresh. What cut her to the quick was the sullen murmers issuing from behind her.
"What sort of house is this female running? A spell thief, unrestrained at this ceremony? He could have killed us all!"
"Just the unworthy, my sister. Still, a very sorry mistake on her part, and it should not be overlooked, in spite of her devotion."
"Agreed. Something must be done to correct this shameful display. Mere punishment is hardly adequate."

Her ears burning with shame, Haellara waited until she was sure the spell was over; she knew at least that any spell took a small amount of time to regenerate; before she called over any remaining guards who had not been assaulted by the suddenly dangerous slave. "Sieze him!" she screeched, pointing at Kyil, and as her second-oldest brother hurried to comply, she strode over to Mikaril and hauled him roughly to his feet, wincing in spite of herself at the gritty, seared feel of his arm. She turned around and looked around the room, at the crowd, the priestesses, at Nuumia, at Kyil, and the guards, both burned and unburned. "I will NOT tolerate this sort of display in my house! All of this will have its consequences!!" Turning to the nearest possible staff, she began barking orders. "Take down the names of the guards who were burned; I will deal with them when I have the time."

She turned to the priestesses and managed a bow. "I apologize for this horrible display of unruliness, and I assure you, mistresses, that it will be properly taken care of. I thank you humbly for your part in this ceremony, and I humbly request that you do not hold this unseemly rebellious event against me. I shall-" She was cut short as the first priestess stepped toward her, the second right on her heels. The faces of both were of stone. "As glad as we were to carry out Lolth's will, know that this current act does not please us, and we will expect you to compensate for it immensely. We shall be watching, and waiting, as will the Spider Queen." Without another word the pair swept out the door to the throne room, and with a swish of decorated robes, the pair were gone.

Her face white-hot with anger and embarassment, Haellara turned venomously on the drow inside the room, her gaze finally settling on her brother. Shaking Mikaril by the arm, she shouted in his soot-blackened face. "I was willing to let you live longer as an asset, but Lolth's priestesses have spoken. You will pay for your insolence and folly! In half a day's time, I shall regather my House, and before them all I will sacrifice you to Lolth, and though your pitiful little scrap of a soul will do little to appease her, it shall be in my eyes a fantastic start." She turned to glare at the stunned drow all around the room. "What the Hell are you all looking at?! Get back to your duties before I start taking down more names for canvas!" Watching the staff scatter like frightened bats, she caught the attention of the male holding Kyil by the arm. "Take him to my quarters and lock him in; see that he is relieved of any magical items first. I shall be there shortly."

As she watched the pair leave, she finally turned to Nuumia. "I apologize for the delay in cementing our union, but this shall be a wondrous start to your patronage. I must...prepare Mika to be a fitting sacrifice, then I must ensure that Kyil will not do such an outrageous act again. I shall not be terribly long, and in the meantime, as your first act as house patron, I would like you to supervise the preparation of the chapel for the sacrifice. I know it seems a little degrading, but being touched by Lolth, I trust you, and......" Here she winked at him and smiled before turning and half-marching, half-dragging Mikaril alongside her, "I shall let YOU pick the sacrificial dagger."

Nuumia inhaled deeply, and held his breath. His eyes were still stinging from the unexpected flare of light that had come as Kyil had cast a spell. Where had that come from? Since when had the slave been able to cast that? It was a bit mind boggling, and frightening. How many times had he been alone with Kyil? How many times had he harmed him while beliving the slave was harmless and weak? It filled Nuumia with a weird chill.

The newly appointed Patron shook his shoulders to rid himself of the unpleasent chill and took the initiative to approch Haellara where she currently stood holding Mikaril. Such had been his surprise Nuumia had been unable to do anything but stand with his eyes wide open and stare foolishly at the pair of disgraced males. Or...were they so disgraced anymore? He heard the words of the priestesses after Haellara had so polietly asked their forgiveness, and his back stiffened. Their cold words and obvious disdain sent a electric like sensation through Nuumia's spine and down to his fingers. Nuumia's black eyes followed the females as they swept off towards the exit. He was hardly aware of the fact one of his hands had balled into a fist...and the blades on his hand were curled towards the unprotected backs of the departing females. Nuumia's eyes narrowed with each step, and he shifted as if to follow after the pair. How dare they! They could not speak to his Matron like that! Priestess or not, Haellara was special! She was blessed by Lloth! He knew this! He'd rip their lungs out through their backs and....

He bit down upon his tongue as Haellara declared Mikaril to be the sacrifice for that night. What helped divert his angry thoughts from the priestesses was the unbelieveable fit that Kyil was throwing. That, and Haellara's attention turning back to him. Nuu turned his black eyes up to his matron, and he did his best to remove the intense murderouse desire burning in his veins at that moment. "There is no need to apologise Matron." Nuumia spoke quickly, though he had to admitt the term 'touched by lloth' was a bit confusing. Did she know then? That she was so special? Of course she did, how couldn't she? Nuu's head slowly nodded. "It will be ready for you matron." Nuu quietly spoke as Haellara dragged the wounded Mikaril off. Ready..yeah...but at the same time he felt unhappy. Perhaps picking out the dagger would make him feel better...he could imagin she was going to use it on Kyil at some later date after all...

Nuu turned then and glanced about himself in a measured sweep. He had a task now, and he was not going to dissappoint his Matron. With a small grumble, Nuumia pointed to a pair of servants. "You and you...get the servants that usually clean the temple assembled. I want every avalible servant there to get the place in perfect order." Cleaning would hardly be a problem...it would be the set up Nuumia supposed. He could get it ready in no time... Nuu cast a glance over his shoulder where Haellara had gone. Stupid Mikaril...Once he was dead though, Nuu supposed that would mean Haellara wouldn't be so distracted and would be able to spend more of ehr time with him..so maybe this was a good thing after all...

Taking deep breaths to steady herself, Haellara walked briskly down the corridor, ignoring the servants who still bustled about in their attempt to stay out of her way after the incident in the throne room. Even as she brushed the hand that had gripped her brother's smoking arm onher robe to rid herself of that gritty feeling, Kyil's outburst still rang in her ears. The entire tirade, sounding so much like the same exclamation Mika himself had made when she had captured them both and revealed her intentions to them. It wouldn't have bothered her so much if it didn't speak volumes of the measures she must now take in order to preserve his loyalty, or regain it, now that her brother's idiotic act had severed it.

It all seemed so wrong, so backwards. Her weak, pitiful brother had taken one of her most precious assets while she was surrounded by power and her meekest slave had disabled some of her best guards and openly defied her, both in front of two representatives of the Spider Queen herself! She knew she had to act quickly in order to save her repuation in both Lolth's eyes and the eyes of her House. Rumor would soon spread like a fire about the incident, despite the threat of her surprise interrogations; her lie-detecting pendant always served to back that threat up.

But she found herself oddly reluctant to take such measures with the two rebellious males. She had hoped to keep Mikaril in a state of suspension for many years, slowly draining the pain from his body and using it as a means to advance her research on chemical forms of pain and torture, not to mention the drugging properties and all of the ways she could use them! And Kyil......already she was missing his delicate touch along her back, the wonderful new flavors he had brought to the kitchen and making her find new joy in the very chore of eating. Why did they both have to ruin eveything! They had brought it upon themselves, but damnit, why should SHE have to suffer for it too? She shoved her rising anger away; she needed a cool, clear head for what she was about to do. She had promised Mika some ramifications for Kyil, and she had the very thing in mind.

She entered her room without the slightest hint of anger, though she let some of it show when her eyes found the male, his ears bleeding from where his earrings had been thoughtlessly ripped out. He looked a fright; hair mussed, eyes red, and from the disarray of his clothes, and the heaving of his chest, he had probably been working himself up to exhaustion trying to get out. Well, not to worry, she thought with a tiny twinge of sadness in her dried husk of a heart; soon you will not feel anything but happiness, through no fault of your own.

She crossed her room and walked straight to her dresser, where she casually opened the drawer that held her perfumes, and the single love potion she had purchased the last time she had gone to the marketplace. She had hoped to save it for Nuumia in the event he would begin to lose his loyalty to her, but she figured that this was a better use for it; she could always get another one, while Nuumia's desire still burned like a candle in the House chapel. Making sure that Kyil could not see what she had just removed from the drawer, she pocketed the potion, closed the case, and turned to face Kyil, her expression grave.

"I take it that you know the seriousness of your situation. You and Mika have both caused me some serious humiliation, and in front of those whom I can least afford to be humiliated in front of. I know you probably hate me for my decision, but it is my duty as a matron to keep my title by any means necessary, and that includes making an example of those who cross me." She began to walk carefully toward Kyil, letting her robe swish about her legs and her voice drop to a more husky tone. "I really do not want to include you in my example-making, but you DID act out of turn, and you grievously injured some of my best house guards. This cannot be overlooked, I'm afraid. But you know, because you have been so loyal to me, albeit while under contract to me, I am willing to let the remainder of your existence be happy and painless." She was almost right in front of him now, one hand ready to grab for Kyil to steady him, the other reaching to grasp the neck of the potion bottle.

She lowered her voice to a purr as she took one more step forward. "For your loyal service, and because it will still serve to further my plans for Mika, this is what I can give you." Grasping the bottle's neck, she shot her other hand forward, intending to steady Kyil's head and administer the potion, rendering him happily in love with her. What a shock it would be to Mika; seeing his friend, whom he had risked so much for, standing there fawning over Haellara. It would be the perfect image to reflect in his eyes as the last sparkle of life left them. In her moment of gleeful imaginings, she couldn't help but put them to words. "Once you drink this, all of your problems will end; all you will know is passionate, burning love for me, and I shall ensure that you have it. You'll never have to worry about Mika ever again. The pain will all go away, forever."

Haellara scowled as it quickly became clear to her that Kyil was not going to be completely complaint. The stupid male kept voicing his denial, first in barely perceptible whispers, and now more strongly as she attempted to swiftly grab him and pour the heady brew down his throat. Perhaps she had just become used to compliance when it came to distributing potions; then again, Kyil wasn't tied up, nor was he dehydrated, though his weakness was beginning to show as his resistance began to buckle to her strength. It would surely be a sort struggle at the most; Kyil's arm would give out and she would swiftly do what she had been intending to do. Then Kyil would finally be hers.

She felt the fingers playing on the back of her neck and was ready to dismiss them as merely Kyil's flailing about in resisting her, but before she could begin to suspect different, she felt the slender fingers press into her neck, and almost immediately she felt her body start to tingle all over, followed quickly by a growing numbness that was making her movements sluggish. Her breath was suddenly coming in gasps, more out of fright than exertion. She had never considered that pressure points would be use against her, nor did she think Kyil knew of any. Even as he lay there screaming, Mikaril had failed to mention such a talent. She feared it because with all of her magical wards, specifically her protective pendant, so carefully charmed to ward off attacks from magic and metal, was utterly useless when it came to physical contact. No one except perhaps her mother had ever had the gall to hit her, and so she had never worried about such an attack having any consequence. Until now.

"What-" was all she managed to get out before she felt her throat seize up, and she gave off a startled whimper as she felt the rest of her body stiffen like an hour-old corpse, her fingers becoming nonresponsive, though they still grasped the neck of the bottle. She couldn't help but muse at all the times she had used paralysis on those she had tormented, though she brought it about with magic rather than actual touch. She marveled at the complete helplessness that seized her mind and drove it to the brink of panic; rather than making her reconsider using such a thing again, she made a swift note that if she survived this, she would use it more than ever, now that she knew how frightening it must be for her victims.

She suddenly begin to notice the scenery around her was teetering, and though she couldn't feel it, she knew that her stiffening up had destroyed her balance, and the world tilted as she began to fall backwards. She felt a stab of panic deep within her, and a tiny whimper escaped her throat as she wondered what would become of her. Some of her victims she had paralyzed standing up had suffered broken arms from their unchecked falls, and one had even been driven mad and had finally died from a cracked head. Would Kyil let her meet a similar fate? He had no reason not to; with the tables turning so fast and her being the main thing standing between him and freedom. She only wished that she could have a slightly more dignified way to meet Lolth than to be smashed to the floor like a piece of pottery.