Welcome to Gaia! ::

No, there was no need for Nuumia to check his food. At least none that would occur to him now that the worry about the wine had been seen to. He heartily dug in. The food itself was a very rare treat, as far as he could tell he'd never eaten so well in his life. He was less inclined to take small bites like Haellara, but he had enough table manners to ensure he did not overstuff his mouth with every bite. He chewed eagerly, but throughly, and swallowed before taking another bite. He didn't once use his sleeve to whipe his mouth, rather he used a conviently placed napkin. He didn't even try to speak with the food in his mouth. He honestly had never been much of a talker when meals were involved. His intensity on finishing his meal was pretty keen, not to say the least of avoiding taking a drink until he was nearly finished.

The wine really did worry him, but it was inevitable that he would need to take a drink at least partway through his meal. Picking up the glass, he eyed the dark liquid with a wariness born of past encounters. If he was out with the guys they would have bullied him into finishing his first mug by now...so he supposed he ought not be so tense. he was pretty certain the Lady had no intentions of abandoning him somewhere inconvient... Nuumia took a swallow of the wine..and wrinkled his nose at the taste. The water had definatly lessened the bite of the wine, but it was nothing at all like ale...perhaps that was better? Hesitantly he took another swallow...then a third. Well...he didn't feel it buzzing his head right away...maybe that had something to do with the food he ate first? Huh...maybe that's why the guys never wanted him to eat before they went out drinking?

"So...where are we going after this Mistress?"

There was a strangeness to haellara now. nuumia had not noticed it until after he set his wine glass down. Looking across the table, he blinked his black eyes at how...eager she seemed to be leaning towards him. Her response to his question hardly seemed to have anything to do with his own question.

"Remember? But I..I told you I can't..." Nuumia's words came to a sudden halt. The questions asked of him by Haellara flashed in between his ears. He saw...remembered things he had...no idea what they were about. Name...Where he was from...who put the spell on him? Just as quickly as the memorys surfaced in his head, a intense agony the likes of which he had never felt before struck him.

Nuumia threw himself against the back of his seat, his legs kicked up into the table so his shins made a nasty cracking sound and he upset the plates upon it. he was trying to curl up, to pull himself into a fetal position. His hands grabbed at his lovely back hair and fisted into it as a agonized scream ripped from his throat. High pitched, like someone had just taken a dagger to the most sensitive point of a male and was slowly twisting it into a devastateing gouge.

The memories, and some scattered rememberances of voices echoed in his head painfully. Climbing to the surface and searing themselves in his skull...and echoing without the pain within Haellara's own head as he recalled each sound and sight....

Fragment of Nuumia's voice: "Shila will be left alone. Right? Thats the deal. Shila...."

Fragment of a memory: A high pitched female laugh sounds from behind. Nuumia's breath comes in heavy pants.

"Faster Lizard! Faster!" The female voice laughs.

Nuumia's vision reveals a long dark hallway with a crimson carpet and a spider sigle on the wall at the end. A small pair of arms grip tightly around his neck, nearly choking him. He runs down the hall heavily until he reachs the end, the female laughter continuing until he stops.


Nuumia kneels down, still panting heavily. The arms release their grip and a heavy weight slides from his back. Turning on his heels, a young female dressed in a dark crimson robe stands behind him. A small toy whip is in one hand, and a bright childishly happy smile on her face.

"That was fun! Let's go get cookies now!" She happily declares.

Fragment of a memory: "...runt. Stay out of the way." A cold male voice comes along with the jarring senstation of falling. Nuumia lays flat on his stomach as a black robed male sweeps past him and down the robe. He see's only the back of the male. His white hair hangs long, down past the waist, and is bound by a red ball like ornament.

He looks on with barely contained spite and the male pauses. He turns, a vain and aristocratic face peering over the shoulder with a sadistic quirk to his lips. "You shouldn't play in the dirt like a vagrant street urchin brother. It's highly unbecoming of your station. I'll have to..."

Fragment of a paniced female Voice: "Hurry up! They are past the inner gate!"

Fragment of a memory: The little girl stands in a white nightgown, her hair french braided back, and clutching a spider plushie with tears in her eyes. "Monsters are under my bed! Come scare them away big brother!"

Nuumia sits up in a bed and his sight darkens as he rubs at his eyes. He slips out, dressed in simple black pants, then reachs under his pillow to pull out a small undecorated dagger from under the pillow.

"Comin..." He mumbles aloud then thinks to himself, -There are no monsters there. There are never any monsters there...- The girl grabs his hand and leads him from the room, and out into a corridor. She continues to lead him down the corridor to a door and leads him into the room.

She releases his hand, and remains standing at the door while clutching her spider. Nuumia walks over to the bed, gets down on all fours, and peers carefully under it. -Someday there might be though. Thats why I'll always check if she says there is something.- He see's nothing, but takes his dagger and starts to stab up into the underside of the bed methodically. He crawls under the bed to complete his stabbing inspection, then crawls back out.

"There. If there are any monsters under there they're all dead now. Kay Shila?"

"No! Check the closet...." She demands with a point of her hand. Nuumia approchs the closet and opens the ornate door to peer inside. Once again, he carefully pokes about within with his dagger, careful not to cut any of the cloths, and methodically searchs every foot that he can.

"No monsters here now." He reports, and shuts the door firmly.

Shila remains standing in the doorway until Nuumia returns to her. With a gentle nudge he directs her back to the bed, and starts to tuck her back in. When he turns to leave, Shila reachs out and grabs his shirt.

Nuumia pauses and turns to look at her wide red eyes.

"Stay?" She half asks and half demands. Nuumia nods his head and with a surpressed sigh climbs into the bed next to Shila. -This is what she really wanted. Why didn't she just say so? She knows I won't say no...I'll never say no.- She presses against his side, and Nuumia crosses the arm with the dagger still in it under her head and around her protectively.

The memories still came, each with that surging and unbareable pain. Nuumia felt like his head was being burned up by liquid fire. Soon his brain would pour out his ears or smoke. maybe both. he was hardly aware of Haellara pinning his legs down so they could no longer thrash, but that did nothing to stop him from throwing his head back and cracking it against the booth's wall behind him. He wanted the memories to stop! The pain to stop! It was all in his head and he couldn't get it to stop!


Fragment of a memory: "Argh! My eye!" Nuumia's vision blurs in the right eye. He clasps a hand over it as he kneels. A slightly older Shila stands with wide red eyes a few steps away. Still dressed in red, she holds a real whip in place of her toy.

Nuumia continues to cradle his eye as he rises, walks to a girlish vanity, and he sits in the chair.

"I told you it was too long!" Shila's scolding voice sounds and her hand lands on his cradling hand. With very light pressure she pulls his hand away, and he sees her wince.

"I'm sorry. I just thought that as you got taller it would be better suited, and it was the best one I could find. I wanted it to be perfect." Nuumia apologized sullenly. He turned to look into the mirror. and winced himself. A open wound stretched from his forehed, cutting down over the thin film of his eye and down his cheek. Blood that he had not noticed until now, ran freely from his face and into his lap.

"As far as birthday gifts go it's only suitable." Shila responds immediatly, then after a hesitant moment, she sighs and places her hand on Nuumia's forehead.

The pain vanishes in a gradual relieving manner. When Nuumia next looks his wound is completely healed.

"Hey wow! You've gotten really good with your prayers Shila!" Nuumia responds with a smile. Shila's image in the mirror takes on a gloating grin. "I'm better then all my sisters right now. I can use prayers that even they are having trouble with now." Her features turn into a small frown. "Though I can't get any better if I don't practice more."

Nuumia turns in the seat, and without missing a beat, speaks to her.

"Practice on me!"

Shilas red eyes widen with restrained delight. "You honestly want me to? I'll have to hurt you pretty bad brother..."

"Of course I do! If it helps you become a better priestess I'll even let you kill me so you could practice ressurections when you get that strong." Nuumia returned. Shila's features lit up with a joyful squeal.

"You are the BEST brother ever!"


Fragment of a Memory: "... furious!" A whispered voice carried to nuumia's ears. Pain seared across his back as he slowly crept towards a door. His brow was dappled in sweat and his hair was uncombed. He paused outside of a cracked door and tilted his head to catch the whispering within.

"How did she figure he was responsible?" A male voice asked.

"No one knows for sure. Someone just saw him in the same hall before she was found." The first voice answered. Nuumia placed a hand on the wall and leaned against it slightly as he fought to ignore the light headed sensation distracting him.

"... wide. Cut from throat to groin like a Rothe. Blood was everywhere."

"If it was everywhere wouldn't it have been on him too? Wasn't he clean when they found him?"

Nuumia closed his eyes and slowly exhaled as he listened in. Intently eager to know just what may have been discovered.

"...daughters dead now. Matron isn't going to care whether or not there was blood on him. Someone had to be blamed."

"Shila's in a fury. I heard she actually threatened the Matron when they took him away."

Nuumia's lips turned down into a faint frown. Concern over his tempermental sisters actions made him glance down at his other hand in worry. A dagger was clutched within the hand tightly, but after a moment he shook his head and pushed away from the wall.

As he turned to inspect the bedroom he was in, his eyes slid over the dark metal four post bed and the lavish accessories decoring the room. With slow careful steps he moved towards the bed.

"...has been putting up a hours worth of protections every day now."

Nuumia laid himself flat on his stomach near the bed, and wriggled beneath. The stone felt very cold against his naked body. Placing the dagger between his belly and the floor, he closed his eyes and pressed his cheek to the floor.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. His mind focused on cooling off. Cold chilly thoughts. Slowly he knew his body tempeture would lower to the point he'd be indistinguishable from the cold of the floor. The infrared of any peering under the bed would see no general difference between himself and the stone. In the pitch darkness his body and hair would blend perfectly. He only had to wait now...

Fragment of a Memory: Cold. Nuumia stands in only a pair of pants and boots. His head is bowed and his black eyes fixed on his toes. His arms hang limp at his sides as a pair of females voices converse before him. All that is seen of them though are a pair of expensive decorative shoes.

" I don't know. He's awfully small. Scrawny. I hardly see any males as weak looking as this one." One voice complains in a disgusted sounding voice.

"Oh, don't be so nieave. There are different types of strength other then just muscle." The second voice responds, a sharp edge was to her words and it sent more chills down Nuumia's spine.

"Oh? Is he intelligent then?" The first voice asks, the disgust in her voice softening to mere minor dissapproval. "Males that can think for themselves aren't really much use unless you have them properly trained though. From what I hear..."

The second voice cut in quickly. "Goddess Blest no! He's no more intelligent then the common drudges in the streets. No no. His strength is something else entierly." Now the second voice sounded like it was gloating, or perhaps more correctly, bragging.

"Fine, I give up. What sort of wonderouse secret do you have about this male that would make him worth my aid?" The first voice questioned. Nuumia shifted uncomfortably on his feet as there was a brief pause.

"Well, it's not a commonly talked about rumor. Mother tries to keep it hushed for whatever silly reasons she has..." The second voice teaseingly began. Nuumia could see out of the corner of his eye the first voice's form shifting in her seat forwards a bit towards the second speaker. "Well, you know he's the eighth son correct?"

"Living or in succession?" The first voice asked.

"In succession." The second voice answered, then continued on. "Mother believed that, just as with the third son, he ought to be sacrificed. Just look at him. Born as black as the Spider Queens own venom. Surely a sign from her you'd think..." The second speaker trailed off, and Nuumia heard her sipping at a drink. Most likely the wine he had been instructed to deliver to her.

"She waited until the Eighth day and the Eighth hour to perform the sacrifice." She continued, her voice dropping to a hushed tone. "Mother and my two elder sisters presided over the sacrifice. They placed him onto the alter in a small box. Mother summoned a small hoard of spiders and had them swarm inside the box."

There came a pause, and Nuumia felt the uneasy sensation of being scrutinzed. He held his breath, his heart pounding fiercly. His stomach felt tight and clentched with sickness. This was not a story he had heard before. After the brief pause the second voice continued.

"They sealed the box, though it had small holes for the spiders to slip out of, and entered a period of prayer. Well..." She stopped, and now the first female cut in.

"Stop pauseing for the sake of a dramatic telling and just finish the story. Obviously the spiders did not bite him as he's standing here well and alive." The first voice crossly spoke.

"Oh! But they did." The second voice replied. A happy little mocking note was in that voice now. "When they opened the box at the end of the prayers he had bites all over his body. He was barely breathing and stareing like he was blind. But what was most surpriseing of all was the change."

Nuumia felt sick from the story. They had tried to kill him? Truely? So..why was he alive? What change was his sister talking about?

"Change? What change?" The first female asked.

"When the boy had been born his eyes were as dark a red as freshly spilled blood. Quite a handsome thing he promised to be. When they opened the box though, his eyes had lost all color and were black. They were quite confused, as they had expected him to be dead by then. So..."

"So?" Prompted the visiting female.

"So they left him there overnight." his sister callousely replied. Nuumia knew he should not have felt so vacant over hearing the cruel treatment. It was more the fact that this was something he could not remember that bothered him. At least he could remember all the other ill treatments...

"And he lived? Like that?" The first females voice was disbeliving for the most part, but Nuumia could hear the wondering behind it.

"Oh yes. The little b*****d lived through the night. In fact he was crying when they came into the temple the next day." His sister spoke with such a cheerfulness. "So mother ordered him taken to the nursury and tended to. He was sick for months but he still survived."

Silence followed his sisters last words. Nuumia remained stiff as from the start of the conversation.

"Hmm. Different kind of strength you say...well... I suppose he would at the very least be a source of amusement for a while. But he's terribly young..."

His sisters soft laughter came, and he saw a pair of fingers enter his vision. Useing them, his sister hooked his chin and pulled his head up so he could look at the two older females sitting at a decorative table. Empty wine glasses were at their elbows and both their red eyes were set upon him. The female holding him by his chin, easily identifyable as a young adult, cracked a wide grin.

"Tell her how old you are big brother..."

Haellara's manipulation of him to ensure he would no longer harm himself proved wise and successful. Laid and pinned as he was the most he could really do was struggle against her, and between the two of them Haellara was undeniable stronger. His screams had come hard and high for the first few moments, and though the pain had not lessened, he had quickly screamed himself hoarse. His black eyes flowed with a river of tears, blinding his sight with the rapidness of the welling.

Fragment of Nuumia's voice; "..to the right. Then it's only a few steps further in and you'll find the vault."

Fragment of a memory: Shila sits in a ornate chair. At her elbow sits a flute like glass ornately crafted and half filled with wine . A candle burns upon the table, and Shila's eyes squint against the painful light as she diligently reads the faded and spidery script of a scroll.

Nuumia sits at her feet. His head tilted into her lap. His cheek resting on the blood red silk of her gown. His body is exhausted. His mind is fogged. Every limb of his aches. In his left hand he clutchs a dagger firmly though, and he fights to keep his black eyes open.

Shila's hand rests upon the top of his head, though shortly it slips down to rest on his shoulder. Shila blinks her eyes and turns away from the small candle flame to look down at him.

"I told you to sleep." Her voice is hard when it speaks to him, yet Nuumia's weary lips still pull upwards slightly.

"Tryin to Shila." He mumbles. She sit's silent for a moment, then gives his shoulder a slight shove.

"Get into a bed then if you can not sleep here. I only agreed to let you stay by my side under the impression you would finally sleep." Her voice is so strong, with no warmth or hint of compassion. Nothing at all like the sweet angellic voice he remembered her having as a child.

Nuumia's head shifts on her lap, and he licks his lips to wet them. "You finished studying the scroll?" He asks her instead of obaying.

The hand upon his shoulder shifts, and he feels a sharp pain in his ear as she grasps the pointed tip and twists it. Nuumia's head lifts at the pain, though it hardly compares to the rest that he feels.

"When I am ready to practice the prayer, then I will let you know. Stop groveling for more punishment. Your becoming a masochist and it does not please me. Now sleep or I will strangle you into darkness myself."


Fragement of a memory: Nuumia twists against a strong grip on his shoulder. A bit of his hair is caught in the grip, so his struggles causes the hair to pull painfully on his scalp.

A young Shila stands, nearly preteen in appearance, off to Nuumia's left stomping her feet and wildly waving her hands in a hellish fit as a male holds her firmly by her shoulders.

"..MINE! You have no right to---" Shila screams in a fury.

"I am eldest!" The female holding him cuts in. A dark fury rather then the chill of fear boils within Nuumia. Hatefully he pulls against the hand holding him, and he is responded with a harsh crack against the side of his head by a object he can not see. For a moment his thoughts are jumbled and he can barely manage to keep his feet.


Fragment of a memory: Nuumia stands over a blood saturated mattress. A female lies in the center of the bed. Nuumia casually places a hand upon her belly and runs the fingers through the blood coating the black skin. Her wrists are slit across the arteries, and both jugular's of her throat have been carefully punctured.

In his other hand he holds a silver dagger. Closeing his eyes, he whispers over the corpse.

"Into your hands I deliver this sacrifice. May her blood slack your thirst. May her screams appease your ears. I beg no favors. I crave no rewards. I pray for your favor to shine upon Shila. Let her be the last one standing. Let her power grow and let her will become the one to Rule. I pray Great Goddess. Let me bare all your disfavor should she ever incur it. Let me suffer in her stead. Let my voice scream instead of her's. Strike at me with all the ill intent that she should ever have to bare."

Nuumia's eyes open, his mouth set into a grim line as he takes the dagger and plunges it into the belly of the dead female. With as much effort as he can manage, he wrench's the dagger up her torso, between her ribs and to her throat. Leaving the dagger in her throat, he digs his fingers into the cut flesh between her ribs, and pulls. His arms tremble, and he grunts from the effort to break the rib cage open. With small snaps and pops, he is finally rewarded as the bones break and her chest cavity opens up.

Blood coats his hands and forearms now. And though he feels weary from the effort, he continues on. Nuumia jerks the dagger from it's resting place, and sets to carving out the heart.

"Unworthy b***h... Who's the weak one now? Lloth favors Shila. She's blessed. That's why she's so skilled with her prayers...she's surpassed you. Your just a obstacle in her way..but not anymore. Nothing will stand in her way. I'll make sure of it...everything she wants... everything she needs.. I will---"

Sadly, or perhaps thankfully, no more memories rose. Nuumia's thrashing quieted shortly after the final memory. He felt as if...as if something had completely burned out of his brain. His eyes hurt so badly he simply could not focus them for a few minutes. He was aware of something strong holding him down...but as the pain fueled strength fled his limbs, he felt a settleing of exhaustion. Was that sweat upon his forehead? Or was that blood? The tip of his tongue hurt and he could taste blood in his mouth. He must have bitten it when he had stopped screaming...or maybe it was in the begining when he had slammed his head?

Nuumia closed his eyes, given them a few moments to rest as the pain trickled out of his head like water off a plate. When the pain had eased enough that it was a easily ignoreable ache, he opened his eyes again and looked up at the comfortably settled female atop him. He looked at her, and tested his shoulders to see if he could shift his arms some. "Mistress? Why are you laying on me?" He asked with a voice that sounded hoarse even to his ears, and felt painful when used. "Did the wine make me act bad?"

Nuumia remained laying still and releaxed beneath Haellara. There was really no need for him to fuss as he could figure. It wasn't like she had a dagger above him and as far as he could tell the only damage done to him had been done by himself. his shins, his head, and his tongue that was.

When it was that haellara laid down upon him, his black eyes blinked at her curiously. Her lips whispered into his ear, tickling it with his breath and causeing his lips to twist at first into a smile. That quickly faded. He looked up at the fearful flutter that passed haellara's face, and a rather strange coldness chilled the black surface of his eyes. A poisoned cup? Though his mind was still foggy for the sake of thinking, Nuumia's brain rather easily sparked to life at this concept. If someone had attempted to poison Haellara then that meant it was either the serving girl, or the one who had poured the wine...or provided the glass. Either way someone present had attempted to kill her. While he was prsent. Strange... Why was he even here really? He should be somewhere else? But..that he could not recall. His memories felt scattered. Though..it only took him a few moments to clear his mind and bring himself to the present.

Haellara was still speaking to him. So as such Nuumia tried to focus on her words, however he couldn't stop from glaring with ire at the curtain. Who had tried to poison her? He wanted to know...

"Better I drank it then you, I agree." He slowly replied. His black lips pressed thin afterwards. The mentioning of rewards and such did draw his attention back to her though. The shifting of her sash and the playful wink caused a sudden flush of heat to burn at his cheeks and the darker look upon his face vanished in a flash.

"I...I...I..." He stammered, his voice having lost the slow and cold tone to it as he stammered in his husky tone. "Thats not...something a male should ever ask for...Mistress...that...thats something a female takes...specially a matron. That's not...not a fitting rward at all...n-no male ever does anything worthy of...of asking for that..."

Nuumia's startled expression faded away quickly following Haellara's words. He was not certain how he really felt about such flirtation. He was really young wasn't he? It wasn't proper for him to consider such things...but... "If I'm to your taste Mistress I won't say no and will accept whatever boon you believe would best suit you..." He didn't want to offend her. That was very important to him and even after brief consideration about what he wanted, he found himself uncertain what he wished to ask for. Haellara had already promised to return him to the caravan as long as he served her well. Which he had apparantly. By drinking the poisoned wine, he was certain that was a important service. So..she should automatically return him. So why ask for something that was bound to be given? A trinket would be fine, but Nuumia couldn't think of what sort of object he could possibly want right now. he seemed to have enough items on him as it was. And if her personal favor was something she felt she wished to offer it would possibly mean that the Lady actually had a interest in...

Nuumia's black eyes blinked, a startled expression pulling at his features. He wasn't having a headache. By now he'd be in pain, desperatly jumping to a safer subject to think about. Purely random and off topic...but...his head wasn't hurting. It was clear. Nuumia placed one hand to his head, a gesture of surprise and disbelief rather then pain, and he found his eyes looking about the booth uncertainly. By now Haellara had magiced her food to a acceptable tempeture, and was redirecting his attention to his own meal. Silently Nuumia plucked his fork from the table. Holding the handle, he hovered it over the plate, then set the tines down onto the wood of the table surface. His eyes flickered from the meat and to the fork as he uneasily fingered the handle and gently rocked the utinsil back and forth from tine to tine. He wasn't hungry now. His mind had...it felt...raw. It felt like a piece of cloth that someone had cut huge scraps from and left only a few fluttering rags behind, delicately attached by thin breakable thread. Would he forget these memories? They came to his thoughts as quickly as he wished. no pain, all clear as he had just remembered them moments ago.

Who was Shila? He was a son of a noble house? There had been a raid?

What was the deal? What had been that bit about the vault? had he let someone into the House? Had he caused the raid to occur? Was Shila dead? had she ascended to becoming a matron? Why was he still alive if there was a raid? Someone had taken the time to erase his memories. What was the purpose? What was the reasoning? His mind teetered between the innocent like thinking and thought pattern, and something else. Something colder and more determined. Something that could cause him to sink his fingers into a priestess' broken torso and cut out her heart.

Nuumia's eyes traveled over the very slender fingers that helf the fork in a slow and searching manner. He was good at his job. His teacher had always commented on how easy he picked up the lessons. Maybe too easy? He was so limber...unconsciously skillful almost... Nuumia shifted with discomfort on his seat. "I'm sorry Mistress...it seems my stomach is feeling too sour. Must be the poison."

Nuumia's thoughts had turned inwardly. He felt himself sucked inside. After so long being incapable of thinking in depth, it was like he had forgotten how. He missed entierly the jug of water being pushed through the curtain. His eyes were focused on the three small tines of the fork as they rocked back and forth.

The memories were powerful in his head. While his mind was no longer a empty slate, he had gained enough new memoires to displace that uncomfortable blankness, these new memories were almost overwhelming. The Lady had asked him three specific questions right before the poison had taken affect. Nuumia had no reason to question whether or not there had been poison involved. His stomach felt sick and he felt shakey to the smallest pinky. It had to have been some sort of poison that had burned through him.

Nuumia would not immediatly respond to Haellara's suggestion that he drink the water. His youthful features were calmly locked and his mind was spinning away madly. Distanceing himself as he relieved the string of events revealed to him. Why those memories? Why could he only recall those ones? There had been a raid. Of that he was certain. He had been a noble son. The eighth born? That could have been a very important fragment there. The history of his beginings Nuumia had to take with a bit of bitter salt. Males were not -that- special. Males did not overcome such odds. Particularly infants. Though a unhealthy doseing of venom could explain his small and overly youthful stature. Why did he have no marks from the bites though? Had that sister of his been making tales in order to give him some sort of worth as she bartered for the other females aid? It was entierly possible. Nuumia was unassuming enough to not want to leap to such a conclusion. He could focus on the raw material of the memories that he could definatly believe in.

Shila... He felt something in his chest just wrench and he shifted with discomfort. His free hand moved to clutch the cloth of his vest over his chest. What was she to him aside from being a sister? Why was he so loyal? If felt so right though. The memories that he recalled gave him a sensation of such satisfaction. It was like he was experiencing a sense of joy without understanding why. It agitated him and filled him with a anxious desire. What had she done? Why had she been so important? Why had he pursued her interests beyond what..well..let's face it. His devotion was definatly unhealthy. Letting her kill him? She probably did too...how many times had he been sent to the Demonweb pits, just to be wrenched back and have it done all over again? But there had to be a reason for it. There had been a reason why he had worked so hard for her. To make certain she became something better.

He had killed his own sister for her. A priestess most definatly. He had sacrificed her and prayed to Lloth to spare Shila of all bad fortune in her future. Begged to have all her punishment metted out on him. He had not been killed. He had not been cursed as far as he could tell.

If anything...

The fork slipped from his fingers and clattered to the table. Haellara was asking him about his reward. Urging him almost to choose something. Such graciousness was not common. It was unheard of in females. Females did not pursue something like a reward unless they intended on twisting it on the male. Nuumia's mouth felt incredibly dry as he turned those black eyes onto Haellara from across the table. He felt the urge to cry, and he knew it was more from the overwhelming amount of information and understanding that was awakening inside of him.

There was no way for the Lady to understand of course. These were his memories and he had shared nothing with her. So he felt a sense of anxiety. If he told her what he remembered she wouldn't believe him. She'd think he was lieing to her and would be very angry with him.So then...what could he say? How could he manage to make this work? If he choose his words poorly he'd either be dismissed or..well..something worse he was sure.

Nuumia licked his lips slowly and he reached for the water jug on the table. He did not bother with requesting a cup, and choose to drink strait from the pitcher in long deep gulps. His stomach was twisting and turning like a pit of acidic snakes. Shila was definatly alive. It made a great deal of sense now. Lloth had obviously heard his prayer and what was more..she answered it.

Shila was to have died in that raid. Since Nuumia had begged to bare all of her ill fortune, her pending death was redirected and instead he died. But...Lloth must not have been ready to take his soul. So instead of killing his body, she had killed his mind. Nuumia's identity had been killed. That noble son no longer exsisted. Shila most likely had escaped, and if that were so...she would have been able to provide testement to the raid on her House. She would have been able to finger the House that had been behind the attack, she would have had the council behind her..they would all bed dead now. The ones that had stolen her House from her. Shila would be a matron mother now, with the combined wealth of both Houses, minus the token bribes to the council to side with her. She would have become..something far greater.

Nuumia's eyes stung with tears. he felt proud. he felt excited. He certainly felt vindicated. As he set the now half empty jug on the table he attempted to keep his breathing under control. Lloth had spared his body and had let him wander mindless until now. Now...until this Matron had decided on a whim to take him along with her. Now, where they had sat together in a seemingly random resturaunt. Now, where he had allowed her to order the same exact drink as she had taken. If he had choosen any other drink the poisoner would have known exactly what glass to poison. Haellara would have definatly died. Instead the poison had been given to him and it had burned his memories free, he had survived. Like his sister said, he had a different kind of strength.

And now...now he had a matron actively purseing rewarding him. There were too many signs to just ignore! Nuumia felt sick from the water and the emotions bubbling now inside of him. All the same though he managed to smile.

"Make me your vassel." He replied. His light and happy little voice reaching up into his eyes. She wouldn't understand. There was no way she'd believe him if he tried to explain it to her. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to serve her. The way he had served Shila. Perhaps he was supposed to save her life later on too. Maybe he would be able help her achive some goal she was destined for. Who knew? Only Lloth. But he doubted the Lady would believe him if he told her. Males had no place in thinking they held some important place in the Goddessess plans, but he was sure he did. He did have to come up with a viable reason though...and he couldn't lie. Not to her. he wouldn't...

"I want a place to call home...a place where I belong. If you really want to reward me you could give me that. I'll serve you in any way you want. I don't care. I'll clean and help the servants if you want. Just give me a place and I'll be happy with it.I want to serve you. It's where I'm supposed to be. I'm sure of it."

Of course..that wasn't entierly true. Being made into some chamber boy was hardly the life he wanted, but it would place him in her House...then perhaps he could manage to work his way into whatever position he was meant to fill?