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 Posted: Sun Apr 24, 2011 10:35 am
 CLOSURE
Credence - Grimm Message - May 3rd, 1411
Regret is unnecessary.Credence GRAND MAGUS ESTRATUS
somber leader
A crow is waiting for you, a piece of parchment clutched in its beak, crinkled and wrapped in black ribbon.
The crow isn't the same kind of dead husk as the one that seemingly started this mess, it eyes beady and watery and its feathers ruffled with the thin details of lighting and shade, with no staunch and pestilent aura about it. When you try to reach for it, the crow merely hops away and drops the parchment without a second's thought, dumbly cooing about until you either catch it or until it decides to fly away into a distance, its wingers lazily fluttering about it. The parchment doesn't unwrap itself, but the ribbon's grip slips easily and the parchment is crispy to the touch if you try to open it.
Once you do open it, however, the piece of paper is wordless, but it gives off a tired but satisfied laugh, the same old and starkest voice out of the pond of whispers that spoke to you around the ides of March. "What a successful trial this was," the voice coos while the parchment withers and falls between your fingers as specks of dust, "I must say, all you Grimms are a troubled lot."
The ribbon seeps and liquefies, sunk in a black aura, and without a moment's warning it slinks over to you like a tired beast. Instead of disappearing, it juts and freezes in form, moment by moment twitching in mass, exhausting back into the liquefied form, then becoming bigger and bigger as the moments pass.
"You see, I've learned something from all of you, what two-thousand and growing lot there are, and what few hundred have seemingly passed my trials alive. This aura, this Furvus Elixir, it's truly what you make of it... and I've been deceived all along, and so have you. Welcome to my world of smoke and mirrors."
The black form with limbs rolls over, shivering and crumpled in on itself, now fully in form. Neck arched upward, it looks at you, a featureless face with a pair of glimmering white and pearl-round eyes. It is an aged figure crouched low, until it bends its oak-like back straight and stands before you, its hands swiping across itself to form layers of draped and torn robes, a mage's pointed hat draped across its head, shadowing one part of its face from sight. White eyes stare up at you, a dotted smile of a Plague about it, looking identical to the aged old Grand Magus from your youth.
It extends a wispy hand and walks closer, cautiously inspecting you, then pulls your hand to it and bows courteously. "Grand Magus Estratus," it says in a pride-swelled and familiar voice, its eyes locked onto yours, "How proud I am of you, my dear Sage..."
It bows its head once again and gradually lets go of your hand, then backs away. It looks straight at you, posture straight. "...And how sorry I am of what I became, and I hope you'll not transform into the same demon. Good bye."
Smiling, it curtsies and turns away, cloak floating behind it, a wind carrying its empty form until it dissipates like black dust, which seeps like wax and melts into a pile of black liquid before you.
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Posted: Sat Jul 16, 2011 11:34 am
The first thing he'd known of the land shortly after his birth were the whipping zephyrs and their shrill howls, the pelting of ice and snow. She'd kept him close to her breast for warmth as they fled the chaos that he still held great confusion over. They trekked for several hours before reaching a small village tucked in the forest. She told him of many things while they warmed themselves that night and were offered food by the kindly townsfolk; stories from before the chaos, before he'd come into existence to defend her life, she explained the lay of the land within their Northern Sanctum. Oh, the servos had endless questions but he asked them with utmost politeness and as soon as she became too tired to answer or he'd driven a topic into the ground he was quick to relent, offering sincere apologies.
Days passed as they traveled, distancing themselves from what was no longer his grimm's home. They found shelters, places to sleep, sustenance, but each day involved travel. From Winterview all the way to Freykeep near the Shyregoedian border above Imisus. Unlike the militaristic stronghold near the Everweld and the overturned interior of Fort Estratus, Freykeep was calm and casual. His lady explained that this was unusual for Fellowship habitation but the fact that it was also a merchant town influenced its appearance. Mages from all walks of life intermingled with the commonwealth, merchants, and traders. Several castles and manors dotted the snowy landscape but very rarely were their walls assaulted so harshly as he'd seen Fort Estratus' the first night of his life. Often the winds of Freykeep were still and the sky was a calm blue. It felt incredibly welcoming and the largest castle in their territory that belonged to the Fellowship, which his lady informed him was their true destination, was surprisingly down to earth. At the time he had little for comparison but it was an acceptable demeanor to be met with all the same. None seemed familiar with what he was, at least not out of the general sense of the word. “Plague” they called him, and little else, but only some spoke it with disdain while most seemed awestruck.
The young Lady Estratus explained to the servos Sloane that this was to be their home now and they were to make the most of it. He found no need to argue and took her word without question. Within weeks she had begun attending group magic lessons and doing odd jobs for the Fellowship in exchange for room and board. “Augur jobs” she called them, though she was not an Augur. When he inquired as to what an Augur was, his lady explained it as “a mage who is not yet a mage”. Upon question of how a mage could not yet be a mage, she merely laughed and said she would get back to him with a proper answer.
Whenever she was not attending group lessons, they spent their waking moments together. He could not attend, for his presence would be distracting and he might hurt himself (or, perhaps, intimidate the other students with his mere existence), but he often accompanied her during her chores. Often she would impart the nature of her studies to him once all her other work was complete and it was time to wind down for bed. Magic was difficult for him to comprehend but he understood the basics, particularly the nature of offensive and defensive magic, but when Sage described its origin, the Aether, and its connection to the Panymesian god, he was at a complete loss. Intangible things were out of his small mind's reach but magic, he found, was not intangible for he saw her perform it, he watched her light a candle wick and felt the resulting flame.
At times where their discussions did not center upon his grimm's self appointed duties and goals or the nature of the land he'd been thrust into, Sloane grappled with his own – specifically his desire to be her defender, to be her warrior. He was offered information on forms of defense, weapons, and the people who wielded such things. It didn't take long for the notion of a knight to attraction his attention, a role he found rather romantic. Swords were among the most common weapons wielded by such figures, alongside lances and maces, so it all felt into place naturally in his mind. Being the sword, however, left him no true weapon to wield so they needed to come up with something to accompany his size. Sewing needles, when sharpened properly and adjusted to have a hilt and scabbard, worked astonishingly well for his purposes. He sneaked himself away into lessons to watch the mages train and, though the form was completely different, began his study by emulating the sweeping motions of their staves. This was something his grimm caught onto before long and, soon, she imparted her own knowledge of the blade given to her by her father. She taught him the correct way to hold the blade, the proper stance, though he wasn't initially far off the mark; something instinctual kept him in the right direction, he just needed fine tuning like any blade would. After all, as a Plague, he was fresh out of the forge.
Things progressed as such for nearly a full month. He was rather content with their station; his purpose as his grimm's protector was clear in both their minds but very little in Freykeep lead to any danger, she was happy with her lessons and seemed to be progressing quite well with her magic while he was gaining steady ground in swordsmanship. The two devised a system that ensured both were training optimally together, where his lady would use her magics to animate a small doll she'd constructed to be his combat dummy. It wielded no weapon but actually having a target that could move, dodge, and defend, certainly upped the stakes for him while it gave her more complex practice as Sloane was a quick footed fighter.
”Your form's improving,” Sage smiled coyly while one hand was raised toward the small burlap and hay dummy and its companion was wrapped around her willow wood staff. The doll's legs dragged lazily across the table top as it twirled and dodged the servos' advances.
He offered a triumphant sound with another slashing motion. ”Truly, my lady?”
His grimm chuckled. Her hand moved subtly to the side, directing the doll to spin its body. Amidst the motion, its limp arms twirled and one smacked the servos against the back. Sloane stumbled with a soft oof and quickly jumped back into stance. ”Truly, but form is only half the function. If your skill is only in form then you'll be far too predictable,” her index finger twitched and the doll charged head on, only to stop short. Once again its arms swung of their own accord and one whacked him right against the chest plate.
This time Sloane stood still, sword held out at his hip. He offered her words contemplation, glowing red eyes blinking curiously at the doll which hovered as though someone had plucked it from its head.
”Hm. Your advice serves me well. What use is a defender to Lady Estratus if he can be felled in so few hits?” Without warning he drew his blade back and pointed the tip just at the doll's neck, dotted mouth pulled into a wide smile. ”None at all!”
”I believe that's enough for tonight,” Sage hummed, moving the doll to the far edge of the table against the wall and lowering it until it kept itself upright. When the magic ceased there was a sudden awareness, silent and formless, as though the air settled.
Sloane approached his sparring partner and sheathed his blade, removing it from his hip and leaning it against the doll.
”Thank you again for your tutelage. It is, perhaps, strange for the one to be protected to instruct her defender on how to do so but I am proud to be both knight and student to my Lady Sage Estratus,” he turned to face her, removing his helmet to expose his perfectly round white head, and bowed in as knightly a fashion as he could imagine.
Once her staff was safely set aside, Sage's pale hands found the servos and ferried him to the beside table. Its single drawer had been lined with several types of cloth and small cushioning material, turned into a warm and cozy bed for the surprisingly large excito. He was set upon the table top while she pulled the drawer out. The two readied themselves for bed, Sloane removing his cape and armor while his grimm dressed down and then back up into the warm undergarments the North offered. It was early yet but his grimm encouraged early nights as it ensured the optimal amount of rest was received and allowed them both to get a fresh start on their days as quickly as possible.
Not everyone in this castle subscribed to that rationale, Sloane specifically finding that the younger crowd preferred nearly the opposite while those of older disposition praised Sage for her level of responsibility. Many still wandered the halls while his Grimm slept but rarely did they ever intrude. It seemed, however, this was one such night and Sloane twisted himself in his bed to stare at the door as there was a steady knock. Lady Estratus had only been tucked beneath her blankets and furs for a few minutes when she was called away. She hadn't even blown out their last candle yet, its flame flickering gently when she opened the door. For the most part he minded his business, their voices hushed as she stood at the door and spoke with their visitor. They didn't stay long and soon Sage closed the door. The speed at which she turned back round caught his attention, a slight crease forming above his eyes as he watched her. Her fingers delicately held a distinctly purple envelope, the back of which was sealed with a golden emblem he'd seen on various tapestries both ripped asunder in Fort Estratus and pristine in these very walls. As she turned it in her hands, a similarly golden but wholly unique mark accented the front of the envelope along with a gorgeous scrawl, though the plague had absolutely no idea what the letters represented.
The envelope opened cleanly without need of a letter opener as her finger tucked beneath the symbol. Her amber eyes were transfixed and Sloane soon pulled himself from his lodging to sit upon the side table's edge. He did his best not to interrupt, resting his hands in his lap and merely observing, but she seemed to freeze and only when he softly cleared his throat (or made a noise equivalent, rather) did she carefully pluck the expertly folded parchment from its lodging.
With how official it all looked, he hadn't expected so small a note. It seemed his grimm hadn't either as her brows knit and, oh, she looked so concerned. Her hands trembled as her eyes scanned the page top to bottom, pause, top to bottom, pause, bottom to top. Sage leaned away looking more confused than shocked, she turned the letter on its side, looked over it again, flipped it over and examined its backside, then back to the front where she read it once more, much slower. A hand clasped over her mouth, muffling a shrill sound from her throat. Her eyes were wild and bugged as she held the letter out like some great offender and she turned to him. The heels of her feet rocked and bounced with childlike excitement. Sloane didn't understand, he'd jumped to his feet as soon as he heard that strange sound come from his lady and all he could do was stare until he saw the crinkle of her eyes above her hand, the way they were shaped by her smile though it was hidden. His red eyes widened in kind and a smile played over his features; he didn't understand what just happened but he knew his grimm was excited and that was good enough for him.
”Oh – oh, Panyma,” she mumbled against her hand, being more mindful of her volume. Sage stopped bouncing and looked around frantically then rushed to the table and laid the letter out flat, ”Oh my God.”
”What's happened?” Sloane took a step closer to the edge, craning his neck to look at the letter despite his illiteracy.
”S-Sloane, oh my goodness,” her hands ran through her hair, brushing it away from her face before she clutched her head. Sage plodded over to his table, her bare feet lightly slapping the cold stone floor. ”This—this is amazing. Th-the Grand Magus...!” His grimm's voice shuddered and trembled. Sloane had never seen or heard her in such complete disarray, even when she was nearly cut down upon their first meeting.
The servos blinked.
”Grand Magus?”
A momentary look of frustration crossed her features but it was quickly drowned by her excitement. ”Within the Fellowship, the Grand Magus is our ruler. The lands of Shyregoed answer to its queen, Valhalla Machaera, while the entirety of Panymium bows dutifully to our Emperor Rine but the Fellowship answers to its Grand Magus, Lady Benedikta Waldgrave.” It was a quick run through but Sloane nodded, understanding the concept of leaders. In essence, Grand Magus Waldgrave was the Fellowship's queen and, as a knight of the Fellowship, this would be who he answered to as well. ”She – the Grand Magus – just contacted me. Personally. Me,” both hands shot up to her face again, covering both sides as she wiggled where she stood and pattered her feet.
Suddenly Sloane was awestruck, now that he could comprehend the weight of such a thing. His jaw would have dropped if he had one, instead his dotted mouth widened to the best of its ability. ”What did she say?”
”C-condolences. She heard about what happened at the Fort.” Sloane nearly reeled. Personal condolences from the highest ranking official? Oh, what an honor. For her to know of and to care so deeply for her subjects to send such things in moments of tragedy with no ulterior motive-- ”Th-the Grand Magus is requesting my presence. My family were staunch allies and she speaks of my magical potential – perhaps I can find a true mentor at Anica. P-perhaps I can become a Seer!”
His mouth set back firmly, arms dropping to his sides. So there was an ulterior motive after all but was that a bad thing? Sage seemed positively ecstatic about the idea, her heart was absolutely a twitter. Still, something about this churned in his chest the wrong way. He couldn't quite put the emotion to words but it was most comparable to apprehension.
”You are going?” he tried to ask simply. It seemed he succeeded as the underlying uncertainty in his voice was missed by his grimm as she bustled around the desk.
”Absolutely. How could I not?” She dug through the drawers to retrieve a sheet of her own parchment, her quill, and the accompanying ink horn. ”This is an amazing opportunity. I'd be a fool not to!”
Sloane huffed quietly but smiled to the back of his lady's head. ”Sage Estratus is no fool.” He wished she'd picked him up from the table to join her at the desk as she sat. The best he could do was make the jump from it to the bed. ”I feel as though we've hardly been here. Is this effective immediately?”
”I've yet to send my acceptance,” Sage laughed, ”It would be rude to show up at the Grand Magus' door without an official agreement and thanks.” She paused in her scribbling, lifting her head but not turning to face him. ”By bird this should only take a few days to find her, then we can get things in order. We've time yet.”
That brought relief. Sloane quite liked the routine they'd set up for themselves. His grimm had been uprooted before but he had never experienced it after properly settling into a place. Or was this proper? It felt proper to spend their days together like this. To rely on and help one another to the best of their abilities. Freykeep was cozy, it was welcoming. He had no idea where the Grand Magus resided and the world was already so large compared to him he feared it becoming ever larger. Still, if his grimm would be a fool to deny then she could not do so and he would not encourage it. He would not be the one to make a fool of her simply due to his naivete.
”I will be ready, at your side, when that time comes.” Sloane smiled, walking and climbing along the jostled covers toward the edge of the bed nearest the desk.
This time she turned and looked at him, almost surprised by that announcement, but a smile of her own calmed his nerves. ”You have my thanks, Sir Sloane.”
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Posted: Sat Jul 16, 2011 11:36 am
Changing Hands
Sloane is sent to the North Base to check its status and what he brings back is somewhat grim and colorful.
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Posted: Sat Jul 16, 2011 12:33 pm
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Posted: Fri Nov 04, 2011 10:27 am
Freykeep kept them warm in many ways; it was closely knit despite the population, everything was nearby and people were eager to help, their room was large enough to serve its purpose but small enough to keep them close. Its fires lit the halls and warmed their bodies. Its magic guided them. Anica held a different sort of magic, a different presence, but it was lacking in that warmth. There was a stark, cold efficiency to everyone there that seeped into the very architecture.
Anica's exterior walls were coated in a frost so ancient he was certain many dangling icicles were larger than his grimm. A harsh blizzard raged around it – magical, his lady explained – to keep those uninvited at bay. The whipping winds calmed at their approach, for the Grand Magus knew of their arrival. She called for Lady Sage of Fort Estratus personally.
His grimm seemed oblivious to the ominous feeling of the place. It was large, daunting, and she expressed some trepidation in private but it was only due to the lofty responsibility placed upon her shoulders. She expressed no such feelings of coldness, of a sudden gripping emptiness upon entering Anica's walls, and so he deigned not to mention it ever again. His lady sympathized but offered merely that it was because Freykeep was the first home he had known. It made sense to the servos and so he took her suggestion as fact despite doing little to quell the feelings themselves.
Their arrival to this place was three seasons ago. It was always Winter in Shyregoed but, as far as the rest of Panymium was concerned, true Winter had descended and the North's lands grew merciless.
They gained audience with the Grand Magus, alongside many other mages that were her peers, some older and others younger. Among them, she was the only one with a plague and Sloane sat proudly in the crook of her arm. He was too large to be a standard shoulder pet, to seat himself comfortable beside his lady's neck, but he carried himself proudly and Grand Magus Waldgrave offered recognition to them both.
Not only had their positions undergone a complete upheaval, their routine was completely altered. Sloane still shared room with his grimm but it was nigh impossible to navigate the large halls on his own in order to observe her lessons. Instead, he spent most hours of each day in their shared room. Unattended. Alone. The sparring dummy was there but without his grimm's animation it felt relatively pointless. He still wielded his makeshift blade, still practiced his stance, his slice, stab, everything, but the longer she was excluded from the task the more it felt hollow.
No longer was she doing the work of augurs but that of a dutiful mage to their Grand Magus. After the first few weeks, Sage became one of countless others in attendance vying for a particular position within the Fellowship; Grand Magus Waldgrave was currently without an apprentice. His Lady came from a renowned family not only within the Fellowship but the entirety of Shyregoed and it was this status alongside her natural talents and lack of a mentor that allowed her to be a candidate for the position. It was an honor incomparable, she told him, to be mentored by the Fellowship's leader. Surely her magics would improve tenfold and her strength of character would become steadfast and true. Of course he told her she was already those things.
Some nights he would find her awake. They did not speak in these times. She would be turned away from him, face buried in her pillow to muffle the sound of her tears. Sloane couldn't guess why she wept but he lent his ear if she requested it, which she never did, and kept his silence to uphold her dignity. Her cries never lasted long, were never stronger than a few choked breaths and sniffles, so aside from offering wordless pity he felt no drive to intervene and embarrass her with his knowledge of her vulnerability.
Until he heard her attempt to stifle a whine.
Sloane shifted, bulbous red eyes twisting as if they had brows. His bed was much larger than the one in Freykeep but that just made it feel more lonely. Small fingers clutched the side of the drawer as he peered over. Again, Sage's face was pressed to her pillow as she laid on her front with her arms tucked beneath. Her hands gripped the pillow tightly and she attempted to curl in on herself.
It was dark as pitch in the room but he could see her outline, his eyes having long since adjusted. Her hair was messily splayed out like a halo and her back shuddered as she drew in a quieter breath.
”My lady...?” he whispered, lifting his chin further up the side of the drawer.
Instantly she recoiled, flattening her body to the bed and loosening her grip. Composure rigidly fell into place but she neither lifted her head nor bothered to hide her sniffling. ”Yes, Sloane?”
”What makes your heart so heavy?”
A quiet breath was all she could give at first. Sloane pulled himself to his knees and turned to face her fully even if she wouldn't look at him. ”I am--” her voice squeaked and she swallowed the lump in her throat, ”--I do not know if I will amount to anything, Sloane.” Her words bore a pit in his chest. ”There are so many here, as qualified or more. I am not even skilled in the arts my family was so well known for. My alchemy – oh, it is laughable,” Sage scoffed, then gave another sniff.
Finally she lifted her head but only enough to stare at the bed frame in front of her. ”Surely the Grand Magus is not worried for your family's talents, my lady, but your own,” he offered, pulling himself to his feet. It hurt him hearing her doubt herself.
She huffed.
”I may never know. It is not this alone that weighs my heart. I... I miss them, Sloane.” Her breath hitched sharply and suddenly her composure was gone. She was not the sturdy Lady Estratus he knew but a weeping homesick child. ”I miss my family...”
The servos watched his grimm become overtaken by grief. With fidgeting hands, he stood and looked upon the young woman he vowed to protect, the lady he'd sworn fealty to as his birthright, and he felt so helpless. A blade could not protect against this sadness. No sword could cut through the cloud that weighed her down. That did not change the fact it was his self appointed duty to care for her and now, after she had taken pains to hide her despair, she opened it to him like pulling back a curtain.
There had to be more a sword could do. More he could do. Yes. He was not just a blade, he was a knight. They'd decided it together.
Sloane's hands clutched the table top as he pulled himself up. Bare, gleaming white feet pattered across it. He gave no second thought to the distance between its edge and the mattress. The servos leaped, grabbing hold of the blankets with small, tight fists. Sage gasped quietly at the motion and reached a hand over to assist, finally looking at him, but he'd already pulled himself onto the bed. With great determination and an equal amount of gentleness he approached his grimm. He was easy to make out in the low light and his skin nearly offered a dim glow to her own pale flesh the closer he came.
Her tear streaked face pulled the dots of his mouth down in a wide arch. Sloane looked her face over, saddened and awed by each subtle detail of her expression. Never before had he been so close. For a moment he felt intimidated, that it was not his place to come any closer than this. As he raised one hand, the thought of his touch dirtying her crossed his mind. It didn't deter him more than a brief hesitation.
Two small white palms rested upon Lady Estratus' pale cheeks. Her glossy amber eyes reflected his glow back at him. A small bald head lowered to rest against the bridge of her nose and he felt her eyes flutter. Fresh tears trailed down her face, dampening his hands which he refused to move now that they were in place. Sloane was the size of a doll himself, somewhere between eight and seven inches high, and he hugged her in the only way he could. It was rude of him not to ask permission but his grimm didn't pull away or tell him no. Instead, one of her hands cupped his back and kept him in place, fingers curling around his body with intent to do the same.
Another month passed and the whole of Anica settled into the middle of Winter. That is to say, very little changed. At the end of each day, Sage would share her time away with Sloane. Detail all of her tasks, completed and issued. Her excitement over these subjects changed day by day, sometimes being overjoyed by certain developments while others brought her sadness or confusion. When she was finished, it was then his turn to do the same and exchange his events for the day. It would be difficult for her to hear that, day in and day out, he stood vigilant but alone in this room, so he refrained completely. He chose, instead, to regale her with things he had overheard in the halls or divert conversation back to her situation with his opinions and suggestions despite them being only half formed.
She was very strong for most of the month since their embrace. Sloane was even offered to move his bedding onto the mattress with her, as it was large enough to fit two, and he took his place on the pillow beside her. It was far more comfortable than the drawer and it allowed him to be in a better position to comfort her if the need arose.
It did.
Upon the well timed start of true Winter's last month, late in the evening, Sage burst into their room. Her hair flowed wildly as she closed the door with her back and pressed herself against it. In her hands was clutched a letter and envelope, as ornate and Fellowship decorated as the one that summoned her here. Both were clasped tightly and pressed to either side of her head as she tried to breathe but all she could manage were sharp gasps. Slowly, ever so slowly, she slid to the floor with her legs pulled up.
Sloane had been attempting the dummy once more when she made her arrival. The suddenness of it all caused him to whirl about and the tip of his small sword sliced the fabric of the doll's neck. He didn't notice until she was seated and he glanced back, staring at the straw stuffing that poked out at strange angles. The blade soon found itself pierced through the doll's heart, to remain there until its knight would return. For now, he had to tend to his lady.
”Lady Estratus,” he beckoned loudly over her tears as he descended the desk. His small armored greaves clinked noisily in his sprint.
His grimm whined and shook her head, clenching her eyes shut tight.
”Please, my lady...” Sloane clutched the hem of her skirt, stepping slowly closer, ”What has gone wrong?”
”N-no,” she sobbed, arms dropping limp into her lap. Her head hung to rest against her knees. ”Sloane, I-- s-she chose...”
The servos' eyes flicked to the crumpled parchment in her hand. A letter of dismissal.
”Dear grimm... Dear heart. Do not mourn your time and effort spent,” his grip on her skirt loosened and he moved to her side, taking hold of her sleeve instead, ”You have given nothing less than your best. Your dedication is to be admired! I have seen how hard you toil to make your place in the Fellowship. Regardless of her decision, your mark has been made. The mark of an Estratus!”
Sage choked on a cough, bringing an arm up to cover her mouth. Still she shook her head. He looked upon her with pity. To have worked so hard, to compete with so many, only to be cast aside. Sloane hurt for her.
”You silly thing,” she managed a single sob tinged with laughter before clearing her throat. Sloane's expression immediately stiffened, eyes snapping from the letter to her own. ”She chose me.”
Sloane blinked. Frowned. His head tilted, eyes squinting.
”Come again?”
”The Grand Magus wishes me to be her apprentice.”
Another few blinks, head tilts, and twinges in his expression followed. ”Then why do you weep so!?”
Her arm dropped away as she laughed, reeling her head back so it rested upon the door. The laughter didn't last long, tapering quickly back into a tormented whine that only threatened more tears. ”I still have more to do. It's not done. If-if I fail...”
”Sage Estratus does not fail,” he asserted with absolute certainty, clutching her sleeve tighter, ”What more must you do? What task has the Grand Magus laid at your feet?”
His lady fumbled, glancing down at him then pulling up the letter. For a brief moment she offered it to him but the same thought clicked in their minds simultaneously; he couldn't read. With a deep breath and a light cough, Sage did her best to straighten out the parchment. Her voice wavered but she spoke clearly.
”My little Sage, I remember a time when even your Father was the youngest of Augurs... b-but you and he are distinct in ways that you both should know and shall never know.” She interrupted with a short sniff. ”You are a Fellowship loyal through and through, and the Aperture born upon your forehead is a strong one; to be a Mage runs through your bones and blood as naturally as the Winter winds of Shyregoed.” Her face was already flushed with emotion, eyes perpetually glossy, but Sage's skin reddened further at the compliments paid to her and her eyes pooled over. ”Y-you—you make me proud, and you have made me forget the past where I had come to regret my lack in sons, in daughters. If only I c-could call you my – my child...” There she had to pause, emotions getting the better of her. Sloane couldn't tell if her wailing was from joy or sorrow so he merely clung to her in silence. She did her best to regain composure and continue with no further delay.
”Alas. We must be serious, now, as you know; and you too, Knight Sloane,” her eyes flicked to him and for a brief moment their gazes locked, ”who so loyally follows my dear Sage with his tiny Sword drawn as if it were a lance! While Magic is like second air to you, you must prove to me your dilignce and willingness to be an Apprentice thus to the Grand Magus and no one else--” It was here understanding began to dawn on the excito and his grip upon her sleeve tightened. ”--not to Queen Valhalla herself, nor the Northern Princes or Princesses... nor to any dark things. The Fellowship of Mages is a torch lit to burn the shadows leaking through by things that should not exist in this world... secrets, evil, betrayal, falsehood... P-Prove yourself true and show me that what I seek is correct; to call you my one and only Apprentice, my fu-future – future heir to the Th-Throne of the Fellowship,” Sloane's eyes widened and his mouth became a small line, ”A light that burns through the darkest and evilest of things. M-my faith to you, little Estratus...”
Sloane stared in awe. The Grand Magus herself, sending condolences and offers of shelter, offers of apprenticeship, had chosen his lady above all others in recognition of her hard work not only to teach her in the ways of magic as no other in the Fellowship could ever dream but also wished to pass the torch to her for its entirety; her legacy.
”Th-the previous Adviser,” Sage stammered, wiping her face. She spoke more calmly but her voice still shook. ”He passed away. Our Fellowship is missing an integral support beam in its foundation. Grand Magus Waldgrave would have me fill that position once I am ready, but--” then her calm faded, became damaged, ”--but how am I to...? My-my worth, my truth. How am I to prove myself? I thought I had been. I thought that was the point!”
The small knight wasted no time in scaling his grimm and depositing himself in her lap so he could stare into her eyes and face her fully. His hands pressed upon the wrist of the hand which clung to the envelope.
”If I do not, if I should fail, she will pick another. This is my only chance...!”
He gently rubbed the bare skin of her hand with the entirety of his own. ”I am aware of this opportunity's greatness, of your desire to succeed as a Seer in the Fellowship and serve your Grand Magus, but... I am lost to why it consumes you so. Will no other train you?” The motion of his hand ceased and he curled his fingers around the space between her thumb and forefinger. ”Is no one else worthy to teach my grimm?”
Sage's breath hitched. She gave a jagged sigh, releasing the letter to the floor so she could wipe her face again. ”N-no, it is not that. I – Sloane... I am not the last Estratus in name but I am my father's only child. I am all that is left of him. His memory is ensconced in me. Every action I take, each success I achieve, is reflected upon him. I cannot – I cannot soil his name, his memory, by letting this slip away but what can I do? How am I to prove myself more than I already have tried?”
His mouth tightened, eyes alert. Gloved fingers kneaded the flesh of her hand before he gathered the strength to ascend and balance upon her arm. His hands lifted, beckoning her approach, and soon his palms met her forehead as both arms stretched against her. Mindful of his helm, the servos closed his eyes and pressed what could be called his lips to her brow, just beneath the dangling citrine jewel of her headpiece.
”Fear not for your father's image as it is his that is reflected upon you, not yours upon his. He has helped you get your foot holds here while you have done your utmost to ensure your security. As a knight, my size makes me feeble. I am loyal unto you and those you place your trust.” His head turned, adjusting so his cheek could rest upon her forehead. ”If this is my lady's goal then I will fight to ensure her success. I will do everything in my power.”
With obvious hesitance, Sage brought her hand down to cup him to her again. It was the closest thing to a hug they could manage but he was so grateful for it. He wished his arms were large and wide, able to envelop her so no fear, sadness, or hardship could penetrate, but he was small.
”You will not be overlooked, my lady. I swear to you.”
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2012 4:05 am
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2012 4:17 am
Be Still
Neutrality is but a facade used by those with power to gain sympathy.
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2012 4:19 am
Pale White Mask
A look into the past through the eyes of Adviser Estratus and young Audrey Hatch.
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 11:35 pm
Repair the Bridge The bare walls of castle Colwe might have been a more welcomed change compared to Anica's grand interior but the nature of this meeting and the events preceding it weighed heavily upon both the Grand Magus and her knight. Its ancient stone walls were calm and grey, the monotony only broken by an extremely sparse purple flag that bore the intricate white design of Shyregoed. Several mages walked beside them, surrounding and leading. Their intent was likely twofold, being of the queen's personal stock which was easily confirmed by the pattern upon their foreheads which was Valhalla's own, rather than the Fellowship's. As such, their concern was not merely leading the Grand Magus safely to the throne room for this meeting but also protecting those outside their circle from potential threats within. Considering what the previous Grand Magus had done in these very walls, Lady Estratus expected no less wary security.
With uniform precision, the group of mages turned a corner and lead them into a hall lined with a deep purple carpet. They separated from the group only after they stopped several yards from the queen's own Adviser, whose garb seemed atypical for such a meeting. Behind him stood a sturdy wooden gate posed as double doors which sectioned off the remainder of the hall from the throne. Adviser Sanne's eyes seemed troubled as the mages took ample steps back and bowed their heads.
”Grand Magus,” he greeted. Lady Estratus bowed her head. Just a few steps behind her, Sloane bowed lower. ”I'm afraid some grave affairs have already begun. We haven't time for formalities. Please, enter.” He stood straight, hand already pressed against the elaborate doorknob.
White hot light pulsed beneath his palm and flowed out across the door like a wave. The wood seemed to crack with a bright glowing pattern. The Adviser took hold of the door handle and knocked twice before the light dissipated entirely. With no effort from Sanne, the doors opened of their own accord and without a sound. He lead the Grand Magus and Sir Sloane into the extravagant room.
The queen of Shyregoed was before her throne, already in audience. Her back faced a gigantic triad of stained glass, not so elaborate and bright as those found in Anica but dappled with blues and whites with snow visibly coating the exterior. Daylight filtered starkly against the comparatively dim interior, causing the forms of Queen Valhalla and Adviser Sanne to appear as silhouettes. There was an older man in the room with them and, from the slight turn of Sanne's face, Lady Estratus saw the Adviser glare at him.
”Her majesty, the Grand Magus has arrived.”
At this introduction, the man standing before the queen looked over his shoulder. He caught barely a glimpse of eye contact before his neck is forcefully turned back with but a glance from Valhalla. His arms were twisted behind his back by some invisible force, nothing seeming to actively hold him in place yet he was obviously constrained given his stiff movement. Sloane and Sage both offered him a scrutinizing glance but little more.
Queen Valhalla looked upon Lady Estratus and her accompanying Infitialis with cold ambivilance.
”You are... early. Enter.”
”Your Majesty,” Lady Estratus and Sir Sloane brought their hands to their chests. She leaned forward to bow while Sloane presented himself upon one knee. Upon rising to their feet, the Infitialis' attention drifts back to the magically bound man while his Grimm's did not waver from their queen. ”I apologize for the interruption and give thanks for your welcome.”
Another glance is given by the queen, this time to the mages assembled by the open doors. She directed them wordlessly to the man, the ones closest to him holding their staffs near his hands. Thin, seemingly weak tendrils of string flowed from their tips and wrapped around, binding him further. Once severed from their staffs, each of the ties wrapped around its respective mage's wrist, offering a tight hold on the man before they began escorting him to the doors.
It was only when the doors were nearly shut and the man was but a sliver in sight that Lady Estratus chanced a glance. In that brief moment she saw him turned back, their gazes locking, and he smiled.
The Grand Magus tensed as she felt a tickle in her ear, like breath.
You've grown since I've seen you last.
Just as the door closed, she glared at the man. Her chest felt tight, a foreign lump forming in her throat as she stared.
”No apology is necessary. Not yet.” Sloane's fingers tensed and fidgeted nervously at his side, calling his Grimm back to look upon the queen. Valhalla paused in a moment of scrutiny when Sage's eyes met her own. ”You come here due to the actions of the Empire this morning.”
”Yes, Your Majesty.” Grand Magus Estratus stepped closer to the throne, consciously keeping a respectable distance. Her arms were clasped behind her back, chin raised.
With gentle urging from the queen, Adviser Sanne stepped away from the Grand Magus and knight to take his place by her throne. ”Please explain your side of things, Grand Magus. And may we hear a word from the Infitialis, as well.”
Lady Estratus' gaze flicked to the Adviser without turning her head. Her knight's swirled eyes widened and he hesitated for a moment before bringing a hand to his chest and bowing forward once more.
Catching the movement from the corner of her eye, Sage looked upon her Plague. ”If you would hear him.”
Sloane glanced up just in time to catch his Grimm's gaze as she turned back to look upon the royals. He rose back to full height and took a few tentative steps to stand by the Grand Magus' side.
”I must advise that I do not have a great deal of information outside my own experience. Though we do have a first hand account, there was no time to gain proper clarification.” With this warning heeded, Lady Estratus bowed her head once more as thanks and proceeded to explain. ”It is my understanding that the Empire has reached an agreement with the Council, as they were the hosts of this event. I do not know how far this goes, nor to what end. The Emperor was present in the flesh, while the only people gathered aside from his Guard were Plagues and those they cling to. In so few words, Your Majesty, Emperor Rine gave his captive audience a choice; all Plagues be turned over to the crown or be labeled as traitors.”
Queen Valhalla's gaze shifted to the Infitialis, cold blue stare piercing his gleaming red swirls. He did not shy away from her sight, though his pulse quickened nervously beneath her judgmental eyes. Just as quick her attention was given back to the Grand Magus and Sloane closed his eyes in subdued relief.
”Why would such an action be condemned by the Grand Magus?” she asked bluntly. Her face was impassive and thoroughly unimpressed. ”Lest her worries lay in personal matters, would the Emperor's actions be seen as fruitful in keeping the peace?”
Sloane glanced away, stance shifting uncomfortably at the queen's assertion. It was one he was familiar with despite there being no truth to it, one that was sometimes whispered behind their backs.
Beside him, Lady Estratus' brow furrowed above her equally impassive eyes, a look of subtle determination crossing her features that she had not yet shown in their presence. ”I am prepared for such accusations,” she stated firmly, ”Please believe, my outlook is not driven by them but it has come to be shaped by such matters. I have dealt with many Plagues during my time as the Fellowship's Adviser and more now that I am its Grand Magus.” Lady Estratus drew a deep, calm breath. She barely blinked as she addressed Queen Valhalla. ”Your Majesty, keeping the peace would be a matter of regulation. I do believe, at large, there is far too much chaos in matters of the plague, disease and creatures both, but do not mistake me. It was clear the Emperor wanted nothing less than genocide.”
Her knight flinched at the final word. Sir Sloane's teeth grit and he turned his gaze away from the throne so as not to direct his look of disgust upon Shyregoedian royalty.
”--Excuse me, Your Majesty...” Sanne's voice cut the short silence and the tension it brought as he leaned slightly toward the queen, ”The Grand Magus speaks of genocide.” His attention was set not upon the Grand Magus, but her knight. ”Infitialis, what would lead her to think this?”
Sloane looked back quickly, relieving himself of any showing teeth or improper expression. He stepped forward carefully, bowing forward stiffly. ”Your Majesty, Adviser...” it was strange addressing them and at first his words came out hoarse, ”Save for myself, Plague General Treatise, and the Council's Scalpel, all Plagues present were removed from their Grimms and separated by throngs of Imperial soldiers.” His gaze dipped nervously but he was quick to straighten himself and appear more resolute. ”Hundreds were present and we were told this was but a fraction of those not in attendance. The order to give up one's Plague was explained as being taken into the Empire's care but, if I may be so bold, where would the Empire keep us? For what purpose?” Sloane's arms opened, gesturing with his clawed hands as if pleading for an answer. ”The items, the small ones, even those like myself, gathered en masse. What good would it serve the Empire if not to be rid of us?”
As the last word passed his lips, Queen Valhalla rose from her seat with enough abruptness to flutter her cloak. Sloane shrank back half a step under her glare. ”And who is any Plague to question the Empire in such a way? Would you not think the Empire to orchestrate it in a way they deem efficient and wise?” Her stare lingered and Sloane shrank further, lips tightened as he rested a fist against his chest plate.
There was pause given, breath taken. He heard the queen's anger dissolve when she continued, voice low. ”Do not misunderstand me, Plague-- I am no Waldgrave, but I must ask again: would the Emperor's actions be seen as fruitful in keeping the peace? How are you so sure that these Plagues weren't chosen by chance, by their illicit harm, their uselessness in protecting this Empire?”
As she finished, Sloane bowed once more. ”Forgive me, my queen. If that is your question, I have no answer.”
Just when he felt the crushing weight of disappointment upon his shoulders, Sage spoke.
”Your Majesty,” she addressed firmly, ”Would it not be beneficial of the Empire, if such a gathering was necessary, to call forth all of the known Locos in Panymium? To use their abilities, their cure?” A gloved hand was held out in offering. ”Might it be beneficial to separate the alignments of Plagues, to inform the humans who keep them of intent to avoid misunderstanding, and not round them up like cattle?”
The queen's gaze lingered on Sloane, whose head remained bowed, though her brows raised attentively at the Grand Magus' words. ”I truly wish it were so easy, Grand Magus, but to discern them by their alignment alone has done little to quell this pestilence,” she responded coolly. ”Even they are prone to corruption... just as the Infitialis may do good.”
Adviser Sanne glanced to his queen in surprise as she returned to take up her throne. Their guests held surprise of their own but the Grand Magus showed none and her companion was suitably restrained, merely bowing and stepping back to his place beside his Grimm.
”My questions to you both still hold and immense weight to them,” she spoke as she sat, adjusting the sheathed blade at her hip, ”but at this point in time only one thing is clear. While I was not there at Helios to see what happened myself, nor am I a keeper of any Plague, whomever stirred the events at Helios this morning planned poorly.” Queen Valhalla's expression darkened and she lowered her voice, ”This, however, is no fault of the Empire. It is the fault of the collective and its consequences are for all of us to bear; the Grand Magus and unknowing King and Queen, more so.”
There, she leaned back and eyed the Grand Magus in particular. ”Now, with the clear eye of an Estratus, tell me without bias whatever else occurred there and you will hear the last of my advice.”
Lady Estratus closed her eyes and bowed her head in thanks, tucking both arms behind her back once more. ”As you wish, Your Majesty. There were outliers in this meeting, near the end.” Sage glanced between queen and adviser as she chose her words carefully. ”An agent of the Plague Doctor who spoke most assuredly that this meeting had not been agreed upon, nor was the Doctor even aware. There was also... that man,” she peeked over her shoulder at the closed doors which he disappeared behind. The voice in her ear confirmed it all too readily. ”He spoke out of turn, though it was difficult to hear.”
Irritation was visible on the queen of Shyregoed's face and posture. ”Tell me of this agent and I will tell you of that... man.” Valhalla's voice dripped with venom as she lowered her head to glare.
”The boy who works for him and keeps the Locos born of a hat,” Lady Estratus turned back to look upon her queen, ”He addressed the Emperor personally.”
Once more, Queen Valhalla seemed unimpressed. ”A mere boy speaking out of turn does not seem of grave importance, Grand Magus, given the other events at hand. Are you so sure of his authenticity?”
Lady Estratus nodded. ”I can verify with no doubt that this boy works directly with the Plague Doctor. I met them both several years ago, Your Majesty.”
”I will take your word for it, then,” she said solemnly, though both guests could detect the remaining caution in her voice. ”As for that man, I will be frank. He is a member of the Waldgrave house.”
At this, Sloane tensed visibly. His teeth bared in surprise and he quickly glanced back to the doors. Lady Estratus' posture stiffened as well but she continued looking forward, gaze stony. ”Another Waldgrave who is a Grimm. May I ask what his intentions were? Where is he being taken?”
”His Plague is nowhere to be found, but the offender is to remain in the Colwe dungeons until we relocate the Caedos.”
Shyregoed's royal Adviser bowed to the queen before speaking. ”Your Majesty, it seems that the man was related to Benedikta through the father, though the two are nearly five decades apart...”
”But that makes him no more a son of Waldgrave than any walking man in Shyregoed,” she retorted coldly, ”That husk deserves no such title, despite Benedikta's marring of it...” Valhalla's eyes narrowed. ”But his existence does speak for the dark conditions the Fellowship is left in. I regret trusting the woman so much, but such is my counsel to you, Grand Magus Estratus. House Machaera and the Fellowship must rid of this strange silence between both institutions and rebuild the bridge that Waldgrave burnt so long ago.”
Once more, the queen rose from her throne. She stepped down, past the blinding light and into better view of Lady Estratus so they stood at eye level with one another. The Grand Magus' posture straightened at her approach though both kept mutually still.
”The man's name is Cecil Waldgrave, and old servant that lived with Waldgrave decades ago. I cannot bear to see another familiar face betray either of us due to ignorance.” Her voice was softer than Sage had heard at any other time.
Lady Estratus lifted a hand to her chest and bowed more deeply than she had during this exchange or any previous. Sir Sloane mimicked her show of respect and returned to one knee. ”If it would have me as its Grand Magus.”
Queen Valhalla smiled upon them. ”It is strange that Benedikta's death was the catalyst in my trusting of you and your Infitialis, Grand Magus Estratus, but know that Shyregoed has faith in you. You both may rise.”
This time, the Grand Magus awaited her Plague's rise before standing herself. ”We are humbled. Thank you, Your Majesty. It is an honor to serve Shyregoed's royal family once again.”
Lady Estratus glanced from the queen to her adviser, still standing near the throne. ”If I may,” she looked back, ”The Fellowship is currently without an Adviser. Within our current ranks, I do not know of anyone qualified or yet trustworthy, least of all with the Fellowship's weakening from the House. Might you have suggestions on this?” It was a simple thought and gesture, Sage knew, but one of trust shown in the queen's opinion. This was not merely a question but a sign of good faith. A first step toward repairing their broken bridge.
”A suggestion, Grand Magus?” Valhalla smiled briefly. Though her voice was light, she seemed surprised. ”Why, the subject of appointing an Adviser is a personal one. Whatever one I may make, however, would be a fellow whom I hold as a trustworthy man within these very walls. But, I am no ruler of the Fellowship.”
The Grand Magus' gaze fell upon Queen Valhalla's own adviser once more. ”I believe our thoughts are aligned, Your Majesty.” Her brows raised in careful appraisal. ”His Highness, Sanne Machaera, would make a fine Adviser to the Fellowship. What would you say to this offer?”
Both men in the room raised their heads in surprise to stare at Lady Estratus. Adviser Sanne was quick to stifle any abrupt speech while Sloane merely stared, mouth agape. His usual calm disrupted, Sanne attempted to respond without seeming too perturbed. ”I must remind both Your Majesty and the Grand Magus that my experience within the Fellowship is sparse in comparison to that of a renowned Oracle.”
”I trust that is the case,” Sage responded, undeterred, ”I must remind you, then, that I was barely a Seer before becoming the Grand Magus' apprentice and, in terms of traditional ranking, never received proper Oracle training prior to being appointed as the Fellowship's Adviser.” She turned fully to face Shyregoed's prince, pulling her arms back to her sides. ”What I am offering is an opportunity to heal Shyregoed's wounds between us. Wounds neither of us had any hand in making but bear a great responsibility toward.”
Her gaze drifted, glancing humbly upon the floor while a gloved hand reached up to twirl the amber stone hung around her neck between two fingers. ”There is also the matter of every current Oracle having ties with Lady Waldgrave. I would not – could not – put my faith in them for such a task, as of now.”
Sloane's brows knit worriedly as he looked upon his Grimm. Her expression was as unreadable to him as ever but her body language spoke volumes in this moment and it unsettled him. She was vulnerable and she knew it, he knew it, but what was more was that she needed them to know it.
There was silence for some moments. In different company, Sloane might have reached for her shoulder but he could not here, not before them when such a lofty accusation had been dropped earlier and all personal matters needed to be pushed to the side in favor of respectability. Though the tone had changed, this was still politics.
Eventually, Prince Sanne Machaera bowed to Lady Sage Estratus. ”If it is at the suggestion of both Her Majesty and the Grand Magus, then I will see to reinvigorating my studies on the matter. There would be no greater honor than to serve as an apprentice to an Estratus, if nothing more, should another decision come to pass, and to aid the state of Northern politics.”
The Grand Magus dipped her head in kind, with her knight giving the prince – no, the Fellowship's new Adviser – the same respect now that the decision was finalized.
”You have my thanks, Adviser.” It held a dual meaning, now. Significant to both Shyregoed and the Fellowship. Lady Estratus turned back to the queen and bowed her last. ”And Your Majesty. I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity. There is a great deal to be done but, with the Fellowship side by side with the royal family once again, I feel as though I can look upon the future with a positive eye.”
To her surprise, Queen Valhalla bowed in return. ”That is my hope, Grand Magus.”
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 11:36 pm
Parting Words♫ A letter arrived little more than a week ago, addressed to Sloane. He asked one of the guards to read it to him and the message was clear enough: it was time for Blaithe to leave. Jin-ho's messy, left handed scrawl was written plainly on the bottom, as well as an accompanying wax seal in bright red. A few days later, as the note indicated, a messenger with Jin-ho's seal as proof of his legitimacy arrived to Anica and Sloane put Blaithe and her new cat friend in the strange man's care. As he watched them exit the enormous doors of the Fellowship capitol, Sloane felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach. Only when they were out of sight from the window, tucked into a carriage that pushed through the snow, did he return to his quarters.
The room felt empty. Perhaps that was unkind to say, as there were still a handful of excitos present, but even with the doll house in the corner lit by tiny candles and filled with shuffling shadows, he knew they felt it too.
Sleep came uneasily for him. The small room he had constructed for Blaithe out of random soft objects and borrowed items from the doll house remained untouched in the beside table drawer. When the candles were snuffed and his eyes adjusted, they lingered on the empty and motionless makeshift bedroom. Though he was exhausted, Sloane had trouble forcing his eyes to close. Even blinking was arduous until his vision was fogged with tears, yet he couldn't take the step beyond and allow himself to break down sobbing. Every few minutes one drop would slide down his cheek, dampening the pillow, but his expression was blank. With all of the time they spent together, both lighthearted and meaningful, even the times where he felt like crying just from speaking to her because she was so small and helpless, he could not allow himself to forget the most important detail of their parting: she went willingly.
If Blaithe had spoken out even once about leaving, he wouldn't have gone through with it. He would have rejected Jin-ho's request then and there, turned the messenger away, and she would still be here, safe and sound. She told him it would be nice if she could stay with him, here, forever but that was before the taint covered kitten was sent. He felt relieved, her having a companion who could quickly take her places on its back and who, despite the gap in species, seemed to understand her small voice. The two were quite content with one another, he noticed, so it was of no true surprise to Sloane that she felt more at ease in returning, especially since her friend was a gift from Jin-ho himself.
Maybe that was why their parting hurt all the more. She left easily because she didn't need to cling to him anymore. He had been replaced by a cat.
”Pathetic...” he breathed quietly. Sloane lifted one arm, his large hand reaching over to the drawer. It shut with a muffled thud.
No dreams came to him that night, just a long, eerie silence accompanying an expansive darkness. Upon waking to the lightless dawn Sloane was quick to glance over to the drawer with a tired smile. It fell into a blank stare when he saw the drawer closed.
He dressed and left the room in silence. The stunteds were not yet awake and he preferred not to disturb them, least of all when he was in a poor mood. Sloane wandered from his quarters, quite aimless in his route. The halls were empty so early in the morning, save for guards who were waiting tiredly for their shifts to change over and a few stray servants still cleaning or checking on the torches lining the walls.
In times since moving to Anica, it was difficult for him to know just what to do with himself. His Grimm was far busier with political matters to the point where the two of them were rarely in the same room, let alone next to each other, for more than a few minutes a day and even that seemed to become a rarity as of late. His chest tightened at the thought. At least with Blaithe around, he could take her with him where he went about the grounds. The two had not be apart for longer than a handful of hours when he was training. The way he felt this morning, exercise was the last thing on his mind.
As he moved, lost in thought, Sloane found himself in the large throne room of Anica. Since the coronation, he couldn't recall a time when Sage was seated upon the mighty cathedra but it was marked with her distinct symbol etched into the smooth stone at the top. Though it had been years since he laid eyes on the symbol of the Grand Magus, he recalled that his Grimm's was much more modest than Lady Waldgrave's and he gave a quiet sigh of relief as he saw it now. The room was vast, exceptionally large in ways he and his lady would deem unnecessary. Behind the throne, seated upon its own staired platform, the wall was stained brilliantly with color that reflected all around the room, lending a purple, yellow and blue tint to everything. High above, large evergreen poles carried impressive lengths of purple tapestry which curtained all around the throne in hanging elegance. There was enough room behind the throne for at least two rows of standing humans to act as council.
Within the empty hall, his armored footfalls upon the stone floor echoed broadly. The Infitialis approached the throne, standing nearly as tall as it. He reached a clawed hand out, tracing along the gently swirls and dipping lines of Sage's unique symbol. It felt natural here, deserved.
”Lonely, isn't it?”
The steel claw of his index finger twitched violently, dragging against the throne and leaving a noticeable scrape. His arm dropped limply to his side and Sloane sank into a slump. ”Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes downcast and away from his approaching Grimm.
Her heels clacked against each step until she stopped, present in his peripheral on the opposite side of the throne. Chancing a look, he saw her gazing up at the scratched symbol as stony faced as ever before she scoffed and folded her arms. ”It adds character.”
”I suppose, if accidents add character.”
”Every scar is accidental.” She was the one to shift her gaze then, amber eyes locking onto his swirls. Though at first her expression was curt, it softened and he couldn't bear to keep the eye contact. ”I heard you were relieved of Blaithe's company.”
Sloane gave a simple nod, though he cringed at her word choice.
”It's unfortunate I had no chance to see her. Has she changed at all?”
”Not especially so.”
Lady Estratus' finger tapped lightly against her sleeve. ”Was she sent for or did she request a leave?”
His weight shifted, fingers curling into loose fists. ”Jin-ho requested her return. He sent a messenger personally.”
”Are you fine with that?”
There was a pause after her words where Sloane looked over to her. His brows furrowed, frowning lips parted to reveal his teeth which sat in a woeful pout. ”She agreed.”
”That isn't what I asked,” Sage turned to face him, leaning her shoulder against the throne as her head came to rest against its edge.
Sloane craned his neck, jaw tightening as he scrutinized his Grimm. He didn't understand what she was getting at, why this issue in particular was being pressed. Slowly, his fists loosened and his posture weakened once more. One of his hands gripped the arm of the throne as he gazed down at the empty seat. ”...No,” his response was quiet but one of Sage's arms dropped to her side in response, ”What does it matter?” His voice dipped low, tainted with a snarl he refused to let out completely.
His Grimm peeled herself from the side of the throne and stepped toward the edge of the platform. He watched her, seething as she decided to walk away and leave this conversation hanging with nothing to show for it but his petty jealousy. Only, she didn't walk off. Sage stopped at the first step of the throne's platform and knelt down, easing herself until she sat upon the step and wrapped her arms around her legs.
”It matters,” she assured him, then leaned forward to rest her cheek against her knees.
Another pause came, his fingers trembling anxiously for her to continue. With her back to him, he felt free to to give her a pleading glance with his mouth hanging open, filled with words he couldn't find. Sloane released the throne and straightened his shoulders, watching his Grimm's slow breathing before daring to approach. He kept a safe distance while sitting, his own legs taking up two other sets of stairs compared to her own. Resting his arms against his thighs, the knight looked over to his lady and his brows raised in surprise.
Her eyes were closed. ”What did you say to her?” Sloane grunted. ”When you parted ways.”
She was gripped to the cat's neck fur, smiling though he couldn't tell if it was genuine or bittersweet. His own was quite wide and entirely legitimate, reaching his eyes pleasantly as the small black cat got comfortable in the messenger's hands.
”I told her...” when the messenger turned and Blaithe's form was hidden from view, his smile faded. Sloane's lip quivered, his teeth grit, and his claws dug into the folds of his armor at his sides as he hunched over, ”...At ease, my sweet. I'll see you again.” In the present, his lip resumed its quivering as he hung his head, metal covered fingers interlaced above his lap. She agreed to it. Any feelings he had against the matter were counterproductive and effectively meaningless. Still, when his Grimm's hand rested gently upon his armored shoulder, he couldn't help but mourn her absence.
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 11:38 pm
The word hung in the air like smoke.
“Imisus,” his Grimm repeated before turning away and raising a quick hand, signaling it was acceptable for him to follow.
Both Plague and Grimm, Knight and Grand Magus, walked down the stone hallways of Castle Anica. The fortress, though ice laden on the outside and excessively large in all ways, was surprisingly warm and filled with activity. It was a highly populous area, a place where the most high ranking and relevant of the Fellowship stayed, along with countless servants and augurs tasked with upkeep. A sprinkling of mages and seers dotted the halls, not quite seated low but not quite seated high, took residence as well, and though she was not certain of Waldgrave's standing on the matter, Lady Estratus did open housing specifically in Anica or the Northern Bases beyond, to those who proved themselves trustworthy.
At the very least, those who had no intent to back stab the entire Fellowship.
“I don't understand,” her knight questioned as they walked, his footfalls much heavier than hers. The sound would have overtaken her own entirely if they were even close to walking in time but Lady Estratus needed a much faster gait to keep ahead of him.
”You've not been to Imisus?”
”Never. Have you?”
”I'd considered it.”
Sage rounded a corner and Sloane followed suit. Her knight was perplexed, brows knit as he walked behind her with long strides.
The two soon found themselves at a set of large stairs, which the Grand Magus began to ascend. Sloane kept close behind. She told him, voice hushed for only them, of the opinions which arose following the meeting in Helios, the murmured half truths, assumptions, accusations which shifted between the Fellowship and herself in relation to the Emperor. For, had that meeting had not taken place on neutral ground, she might have suffered direct allegations of treason. Instead, it was not the public's opinion of the Fellowship which fell this time, but those of influential parties; the nobles, royal families, heads of the Imperial Guard and even the Council.
When the two reached the upper floor that housed Lady Estratus' bed chamber, Sloane's brows perked. ”Am I to join you?”
Sage gave a light scoff, turning to look over her shoulder briefly. ”In Imisus or in my quarters?” Without giving him time to respond, she shook her head and continued toward her room.
Sloane paused in his walk and stared stupefied at the back of his Grimm's head. It only took a few seconds to catch up, wry grin present.
”The Fellowship is not the only one to have undergone changes in high places.” The guards beside her room stood at attention when they approached, which she bowed her head in greeting to before moving past and opening the doors. Sloane followed her inside, though stopped not far into the doorway and stood, arms folded across his chest, as he watched her move about the chamber without closing the door behind her. ”I am admittedly hesitant to share an audience with Dean Kirkaldy, but it has come to my attention that their Counselor has been switched out. A man by the name of Amory Kempe holds the position now. Bridging the gap with a new member would fair best, I feel, to renew the Fellowship and Council's bond.”
”So we're to meet a Councilman. When?”
”Tomorrow.”
Sloane's arms dropped as he sputtered, taking a step forward without thinking. ”So soon?”
”We'll be in Imisus tomorrow. I've scheduled ahead. The meeting, however, will be another day or two at least.” Sage plucked open one of the many large closet doors scattered along the dome-like walls which housed a number of outfits he had never seen his Lady wear and a number of traveling chests. She pulled out one such trunk, dragged it toward another closet, and began folding clothing inside. ”We're to leave tomorrow morning with the aide of some Seers--”
”--Teleportation?--”
”--but I thought we could take the scenic route back once things are settled in Gadu. There is some business in Freykeep, as well, though it is not as pressing as my meeting with Doctor Kempe.” Mid-fold, Lady Estratus paused and turned to look at him with a curious eye. ”You've civilian outfits, do you not? Casual wear?”
Sloane nodded, his own curiosity piquing.
”Pack them. We'll be arriving as such.” Her knight opened his mouth, in what she assumed would be confused protest, but she put any worry to rest before he could even voice them. ”You are more well known for you armor, as I am for dressing dignified. I would prefer we call as little attention to ourselves as possible during this trip.”
The fact he was going at all was reassuring, because he would be allowed to stay near her, protect her as he ought to, and also see a new place. However, staying low and hiding in plain sight was not something the infitialis was used to in the slightest and the suggestion caused him worry. In all likelihood, it meant that his Grimm's reputation was further on the line than she claimed and also that they may outright be endangered if they were to rouse suspicion.
Sloane's claws tapped anxiously against the chainmail covering one upper arm. ”If that is the best course,” he nodded, though still looked a bit lost. His Grimm nodded as well, resuming to pack. She moved on from outfits to other necessities, only things she would need. As always, she was quite utilitarian. He wouldn't be surprised if all her luggage consisted of this single trunk when they were through, and he would be sure to only have as much.
With that, the Plague Knight exited the room, turning to close the doors and leave his Grimm in peace. Before they shut fully, she spoke his name and his head lifted.
”Rest well. We wake at dawn.”
”You as well, Grand Magus.” Once the doors were shut, he lingered a moment with his hands curled around the handles. Sloane grinned, heart pounding.
They were going on an adventure. Together. Again.
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 11:39 pm
Reserved for a reunion and self defense lesson with Beatrix and Cassandra
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 11:41 pm
Reserved for meeting Amory and Council stuffs
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 11:42 pm
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2012 11:44 pm
Reserved for getting caught in the rain
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