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 Posted: Mon Jan 09, 2012 9:46 pm
Dusk has come.Please finish out your interactions, if you've been kept waiting, you can go happily into the darkness of the time skip. Thanks!
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Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2012 7:11 am
• Ӎ ɐ э ʆ ɸ ȵ ɐ • ʗ э ɾ ΐ ϛ э • Ѧ ϛ ȶ ɐ ʆ ʆ ɸ - ζ ɐ ȵ ϛ ΐ ȵ ɠ • Ｔｈｅ ａｄｏｐｔｅｄ Ｐｒｉｎｃｅｓｓ, ｈａｉｌｉｎｇ ｆｒｏｍ ｔｈｅ ｋｉｎｇｄｏｍ ｏｆ ＰａｔｉｅｎｃｅLocation: Bed chambers. Currently Wearing: This Dress •xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•   Eoghan. It was Maelona's simple thought. The poor boy, he didn't seem to be much of a talker, but then again they had just met. Perhaps it would take some time for the man to warm up to her? Her brows furrowed as she took note of the slight grimace that he fought to hide. "I apologies if I have made you uncomfortable." She said, allowing her eyes to meet with the floor briefly. Though though his next statement, she thought perhaps she was wrong.
"Of course." Maelona said with a small smile. Their parents. She could remember how frail their mother looked now when she was alone, how loss shown in her eyes when she thought no one was looking. "They have never given up hope that they would be reunited with their lost children." She said to him, though it was obvious her eyes were focused else where. "Mother still lights a candle in the high tower for each of you, hoping that it will lead you home." There were many days that Maelona had accompanied her mother to the tower. Listening to stories she had heard dozens of times before.
Maelona shook her head, bringing her back to the present, accepting her brothers extended arm. "Of course." She said simply, as she put a smile back onto her face.
They had gotten to the dining hall only to see a gory scene. Maelona wavered in the doorway, her blue gray orbs taking in everything. Blood seemed to be everywhere and people were panicked. Her eyes went from the body of a blond to the body of a dark haired man. It seemed to take her a lifetime to put a name to the face. Lucien. And the blond must have been his sister, but her mind didn't stay there, it had gone back to the dragon born. The one who was her betrothed, the one who had helped her though the catacombs, he had even helped shield her from the bats. She had not known him well, but just that kindness was enough to make her eyes fill with tears. Her hands shook, and she wavered, knowing that the only think keeping her upright was her brother.
There were already undertakes in place, so there was no need to stay, not that she would have if there hadn't been. Her eyes had found the Fae that was fond of Lucien by his side, and she knew there was no reason for her to be there. Lucien had someone in death that knew him well, so the Princess moved, pulling her arm from her brothers and backed out of the dining hall. "I... I am sorry. Please excuse me, I cannot be here." She whispered so that only he could hear before turning back the way they had come.
----------------Time Skip----------------
Maelona has again retreated to her room where she shed her private tears for the lost dragon born. She had prayed for his soul, even throwing in a prayer for his sister. Once she could cry no longer, she tried to sleep, but sleep never came. She could not unsee what had been seen, and the sight filled her mind.
A sigh passed Maelona's lips as she looked out her window towards the moon. She was sitting on her bed, knees drawn to her chest and still in the gown she was going to wear to dinner. How someone could have gotten away with murder in a room full of people was beyond her. It all made her want to leave this place, to go home, but she knew her parents wouldn't allow it. It was supposed to be safe here, but it was no safer than the streets of home.
Maelona lowered her gaze back to her sheets and shook her head. No one should have to go though these things, and yet everyone was at war. •xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx•xxxxx• Louder than sirens
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxLouder than bells
Sweeter than heavenxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Hotter than hell
""
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)(Over.Dose.On.Cyanide)( Crew
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Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2012 12:36 pm
✠ ══════════════════════════════════════════ ✠ xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx✠ Position: Second in Line to the Throne✠ Location: Dining Hall xxxxxxxxxx xxxxx
xxxxxx xxxxxx xxx ccccc xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxx✠ OOC:Why are you reading this, I have nothing special to say about this post other than it's far too short and I am fighting the urge to take classes that will lengthen my posts. Go away.
 xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxxx✠ ══════════════════════════════════════════ ✠ It took a moment for the prince to understand that Evony was not in the most talkative state. Her simple nod to his words worried him, but asking a child to form complete sentences after witnessing such brutality was indeed farfetched. However, he at least hoped she would understand his words. Nathaniel could help me piece together Evony, but he probably wants to be alone for a little while longer. Everyone would, really.
Madelyne's voice brought him out of his worry, as she inquired about both Evony and he to join them in the garden. That actually wasn't a bad idea: not only could they all benefit from some air not polluted with death, but Evony could feel more at ease with flora around her. "Any place other than here seems like a grand idea." he said almost humorlessly.
He expression turned to a somber one when he noticed their bloodied dresses. Far too much death had filled the day's air, and he was lucky to still be functioning and sane. He had thought himself unfeeling towards the death of Lucien and Dorian, but slowly began to realize that all deaths were to be mourned. How he thought they're wasn't to made him question his own morality, and whether or not his mind was going.
No, an unfeeling God like Veritas has his mind and emotions go. Not a prince of Evny, or any other sensible kingdom.
Determined to keep his altruism and empathy in tact, he allowed Evony to hold his hand as he stood up. "I'm certain Evony is pleased to meet you as well, Lady Madelyne." the prince politely said, thoughtfully explaining what Evony would most likely say at the moment had she not been in a state of momentary shock. "Shall we go then? I do not wish to tempt fate."
✠ ══════════════════════════════════════════ ✠ The wicked envy and hate; it is their way of admiring.xxxxx xxxx
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 1:52 am
 Kingdom and Title:Wrath; Heir
Location/Situation: with Mishka, Soren, Lucas, and Jasper, then leaving them, then looking to regroup once againI was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.
- William Blake To see the twins converse and interact as they had as children... it almost made Lincoln smile at them, as if they were just picking up where they left off. He was almost sure that there’d be harsh words later, mainly from Mishka, but for now things were well. Above all, his baby sister was unharmed, which was his priority.
Despite himself, he twitched his head slightly at the sudden telepathic voice in there. Though it was someone he loved, he felt uneasy, for she had not done it very often at all with him, and he was still sensitive about such things from his recent experience with Princess Lorelei. Though the light hairs at his nape bristled from the intrusion, he could not be upset with her. He could only imagine from her words and the feelings that accompanied them, just how hurt she had been by his ‘accident’. The heir could not answer crossly, though his thoughts were just a touch short with her, made so by his discomfort. Worry yourself not, my sister. I am as you see me, alive and well. Perhaps not completely true, on either account, but close enough.
Lincoln half-shrugged at Lucas’ suggestion. “It is indeed possible. This place is rife with intrigue and mischief, on top of the hidden and visible dangers.” The knight Soren had surmised as much, but he did not know they had come to similar conclusions. While she perhaps assumed it was an attempt to sully his name, he took it as a severe offense against all of Wrath. Could the god Veritas be so eager to create such strife amongst them all? He was a god, so it wasn’t as if he needed anything any of them had. But perhaps gods grew bored, and needed to play chess on merely a larger scale than people did. The Wrathian heir worried that he would be forced to socialize a bit more with the other royals of the castle. He needed to see for himself who he could trust and who to watch for, as the god shifted them about on his playing board.
Lucas continued to play-fight with Mishka, and tossed him a tease as well, distracting the heir slightly from his scheming. “It is not hunger that drives me Lucas, merely a sense of propriety. I would rather not we appear to be mere beggars, or as cowards, to the others. And there were some things I needed to discuss with some of them.” He gave Lucas a slight grin though, confident his brother knew him well enough to see the truth of what he spoke.
Mishka gave a polite apology to the knight of Envy, and Lincoln considered the matter closed. Except for that nagging feeling that somehow or other, this would get back to Evony. “We should head there now,” he turned to look at Soren, and asked her, “Would you care to travel with us, Lady Soren? Though we have this... mess, before us, I doubt it will be the least of the excitement tonight. The god Veritas does seem to be more active during the evening hours.” He would not shame her by offering to escort her (regardless of who was a better fighter) in front of so many others, as if she couldn’t defend herself, but it might be true that there was safety in numbers. He would not ask her to dine with them, for he wished to speak with his family, or at least discuss things with the other royals, but it was not at all meant as an insult, merely the way things were. Lucas made another little joke, which pleased him. Though he had not felt worried about being here, he was grateful to have company he could trust completely.
Turning to get a better look at the hallway (for now he certainly felt turned around, in his haste to follow Lucas and find Mishka), he spotted a familiar servant boy, who caught sight of him and rushed down the hall. He was dressed in light blue silks, a messenger boy who was one of his mother’s favorites, as he could bluff, charm, and frankly trick, almost anyone that might get in the way of his messages. Lincoln was also sure he was quite the talented little spy as well.
His presence here meant surely that his mother had been invited and arrived as some of the other royals. Undoubtedly, he was coming to alert him that the Queen of Wrath likely wished to permit him a short audience. He held out his hand for the message, and began to unfold it as the servant backed away and then took off. It was very unusual, as it would have been his duty to wait for a response. Unless this held something negative? In which case the messenger left before the heir’s ire might lash out. Unrealistic, Lincoln thought, as he never chastised servants unless they were responsible for something, but if his name struck fear into their hearts, so be it. He wasn’t about to waste time coddling them.
He noticed the note was shut with the seal of the Obsidian Knights, and he assumed it was from his longtime protector, Terasyn. He opened the note quickly, worried that something had happened to Heike, who’d been his Valkyrie watcher. The two guardians had become close, and though never marrying, their hearts might as well have beaten as one. Reading it over twice, verifying that he was not imagining this news from Tearsyn, he crumpled the paper in his hand, seething for a moment as he was tempted very much to kill everything and anything before him. Trying to calm his rage, he took several deep breaths, though they were not very visible, perhaps only to his family members. “I would have enjoyed walking with you two, but there is something of severe importance I must handle immediately. I shall join you in the dining room as soon as I can, but there is a chance I may not be able to make it before it becomes too late. Ironic, isn’t it Lucas?” In a strangely uncharacteristic gesture that might have alerted the twins, Lincoln approached Mishka to kiss her forehead, and gave Lucas’ arm a brotherly squeeze. Before they could ask him what was going on, he turned and left them, walking away with an almost marching step, still holding the note tightly in his fist.
*****detailing Lincoln's time-skip*****
//How DARE he?!// he thought to himself, still raging on the inside. //He played a part and I believed him, then he presumed to fool Corrine and uncle Nolan. I shall not rest until he pays for such travesty with his blood!// In such a state, Lincoln did not realize the castle hallways seemed to follow his unspoken demands, and led him to where he needed to go without any fuss. Later, when he was calmer, he would wonder if perhaps he had been a chess piece himself. But for now, there was only the target, and him finding it.
Some might call it a god’s game, and others pure chance. But regardless as to why and how, Lincoln found whom he was looking for in one of the hallways, him being alone except for the occasional servant that hustled by to unknown duties. They of course were highly sensitive to the moods of the royals, and scurried away like rats from a sinking ship, worried about preserving their own hides. Lincoln did not often show his emotions so openly, but upon finding whom he sought, it was impossible to try.
He had said goodbye in a rushed fashion to his siblings, with an unusual amount of a public show of affection. Coming from him, he hoped the gestures stated how much he cared for them if he did not return. The heir of Wrath was an expert swordsman, skilled, tested, and tempered, but he had never faced off against a highly skilled mage before. A mage who could summon a demon copy of him to defile the name of Wrath, while his more sinister plans were like tentacles, slithering into the mighty kingdom and defiling it in other ways.
“Valas Enteri! Defend yourself, for you will suffer for this dishonor you have heaped upon my house!” Pulling out his sword without allowing the mage to add any more lies to his defense as he turned in surprise, he charged at him, ignoring the fireball that was aimed at his feet as if in warning. Lincoln channeled his fury into his technique, never blinded by it, merely using it to power his sword strokes and blocks. Though he was still outraged at what a farce he had been taken in by, he was cool enough to think logically, and to evade the magical attacks which were no longer just warning shots sent his way.
The battle he had fought with the Black Knight hadn’t carried this much rage and hatred, even though he could feel he was outdoing this opponent more easily. It helped that the opponent was not a demon, for one. Blood flowed between the two fighters, staining both blades in equal amounts, though neither had gained an incapacitating blow yet. They were shallow and painful, but not outwardly indicative of what the battle’s outcome would be. One sheen of red was more viscous than the other perhaps, but otherwise they were fairly identical.
Keeping such tight quarters for the heir of Wrath was a bit unusual, as his blade was a longsword, and he had been trained as such, but it was necessary for his victory. As long as he stayed within an arm’s distance of his foe, Lincoln prevented him from using his magic to the extent that the mage wished to. At one point the blond heir had respected the elf’s skill, but right now he only silently mocked how Valas had allowed his magic powers to handicap his swordsmanship. He paid for his poor technique in more than a few slashes to his person, but as an elf, he moved with enough speed and skill to prevent any of them from being too serious.
After a few more graceful slashes that perhaps seemed to be wide and lucky swings to an uneducated observer, Lincoln stepped away sharply, grinning in a manner that had not yet been seen in Veritas’ castle. Valas took a step forward, but cried out when his knee gave, causing him to drop to a half-kneeling position before the heir of Wrath. Pleased his stroke had done what it had been aimed for, Lincoln held his sword at his side and walked in a circle around the elf, just out of his sword’s reach. He was satisfied to note another slash of his, at the elf’s side, served to keep him breathing shallowly and hurriedly, limiting his ability to cast a spell when breathing took precedence. It would not have hampered him until later in the fight otherwise, but that was not Lincoln’s goal.
“I try my utmost to keep politics and emotions separate Valas. I must admit, however, that this battle proved very fulfilling. But the fact of the matter is you have committed several grave and unpardonable insults: you attacked me with your demon pet, you attempted mischief with a copy of me, you have pretended to be an heir, your only authority comes from the church instead of a true lineage, you have mocked my cousin’s name and threatened her standing by agreeing to a betrothal you have no right to. All the while pretending you belonged, while you were nothing but a snake in our midst.” By now he’d gone around him and stood in front of the gasping mage, showing no pity on his expression for the trash below him.
“It would be within proper standing to merely report on your sins to the God Veritas, but I would think, based on how he has let us run with a bit of freedom, he wouldn’t mind if I dispatched you myself, ridding his kingdom of your despicable filth and treachery.” The elf tried to protest, but his broken sentences fell on deaf ears.
There was no more anger on Lincoln’s face, nor even a hint of that previous warped delight. He had regained control of his temper to complete his task with dignity. It was not a dramatic move that a servant or two saw while hiding unseen. It was the simple act of a butcher, slicing through skin, muscle, and bone without care. Valas’ head came off as easy as a chicken’s in a single, clean stroke.
Lincoln took another moment to ground himself, while his body nonchalantly took a cloth from his pocket and wiped the elf’s blood off his sword. He looked almost bored, after the incongruous show of emotions just a few minutes prior. Internally though, was a completely different story. The blond’s heart rate was still high from not only the exhilaration of the battle, but also his thoughts.
Had he acted as he should? He was right to be furious about this discovery, sent to him as subtly as possible by his former bodyguard, through his mother’s servant. There weren’t any spies in Justice (at least, none that answered to the Wrathian royalty), being as the kingdom did not pose an open threat to Wrath, nor did they have any sort of peaceful treaty together that needed to be verified through hidden means. So that when he had formally met Valas, he did not suspect him of being a fraud. And not just a fraud, but one who had nefarious plans for subterfuge. The heir had still held deep the hate of being played by Lorelei’s spell, and his mind invaded by her speech, so that this plot had caused him to lose control and eliminate the problem.
Had Valas come to him in private beforehand, and spoken to him, it might have gone slightly differently. He would have found a way to forbid the marriage between the elf and his cousin, but the elf’s death was not truly necessary. The Wrathian was not worried about reprisals, certainly not coming from Justice. The true royal family would presumably not care that this fraud was dead, and the religious powers did not frighten him. He had learned in his studies that years and years ago the church of Wrath had been in control of the kingdom, dictating how things should be run. It was foolishness that had been set straight after a time, and the Mastersons proved to be the victors, which confirmed that the gods wanted it this way, for the kingdom prospered afterward. This history assured him of Valas’ treachery to all concerned, and made him feel rather vindicated.
Wiping a small smear of blood off his face, he sheathed his sword and turned about, planning to head to his room and change once more. In an offhand thought he considered it annoying that he had to keep changing his clothing. He cleaned himself up, and was grateful to see that Lucas’ stitches had kept, preventing the wound from reopening. Of his cuts, they were mostly minor, but three were visible to anyone. One that had just grazed his left ear, another that had nicked him underneath his left eye, and the last one over the knuckles of his right hand. On a normal person, they would probably heal up completely within a week or two, so perhaps 3 weeks or so with him. His thoughts returned to his predicament, and how he had not really discovered a way to save himself from an imminent death, but he shouldn’t waste time. He still needed to see his siblings, who were probably wondering what had happened to him.
Not in the mood to test the hallways once more (now that he was calmer and was not sure they would guide him to where he wanted to go), he asked a servant for directions to Mishka’s room and headed there. By now the dinner was certainly over, but if she and Lucas had not yet parted ways, they could have some time to catch up. There were several areas in the castle where they could discuss things in private, and it was still not yet time for sleep. He wondered idly whether the body of the elven mage had been found yet, and only now felt a bit of worry.
What if his little Envian friend was the one who ran across it? She was much too innocent to see such a thing, and it was concerning that she would not take it well. On top of that, what would she think of him for enacting it? He felt no regret for what he had done, merely for the way she might not understand his reasons, and not allow him to explain to her. Feeling a headache coming on, he pinched the bridge of his nose before knocking on Mishka’s door, wishing he could discuss it with her. Perhaps he might, but he didn’t think to try though because he wished Lucas to be with them. He was almost sure his brother had feelings for that siren, and he was sure he would not be able to hide his hateful emotions of her if she was brought up in the conversation. He waited patiently, keeping an eye out for anyone in the hall around him. If Valas Enteri had had any friends or allies, he would have to watch himself for any possible reprisals. His family’s safety was his priority, but he was more than a little bit eager for another fight, having metaphorically tasted blood once more. It gave him great satisfaction to maneuver and manipulate others through politics, but there was no comparison to the feel of eliminating someone with his own hands.Sport begets tumultuous strife and wrath,
and wrath begets fierce quarrels and war to the death.
- HoraceThe Oneiric Oracle's Conclusion: Have finally been given permission from Alice to skip over Jasper this round. Sorry Sag, but here it is! =D
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 1:47 pm
James Greene Kingdom: Fortitude
Rank: Prince
Location: The Halls All of the kingdom’s royalty were here as well? All of the virtues, and sins? That must have been one hefty agreement; to have the virtues and sins living together under one roof. It was to help protect their children though, and in turn, the future of their respective kingdoms. A god’s castle was certainly a neutral ground; no man, or kingdom, could claim a god. Cousins? He had forgotten momentarily that he was still indeed part of a larger family. His whole life, the only people he knew as family were Sampson and Delilah. Now he had brothers, sisters, parents, cousins… it was rather overwhelming.
His father made a statement that indicated that he wished James to be the heir instead of his brother, Haven. Having not personally met Haven yet, James wondered just why this was so. James had been in solitude; out of the castle for his whole life… he knew nearly nothing of royal customs, only the code of chivalry that he lived by. Then there was the remark about a ‘wench from Lust’. Oh, so the heir was cavorting with members of the Lustian court? That would be rather… complicated. Why didn’t Haven choose someone from his own kingdom as a mate? James was only peeking onto the tip of the iceberg.
Reginald beckoned for the young prince to follow, and James did just so, listening to his father tell him yet again about how if his identity as a royal of the Fortitude court his life would be in peril. There was some mention of assassins earlier that his father spoke of; it was the reason why he had been called to the castle in the first place. Well, everyone would be safe here, correct? If they were under a god’s care, then nothing could touch them.
There was a mention of his mother, the queen. The Queen of Fortitude? It was still hard getting used to; he had always thought that when Sampson told him of his princely status, it was some sort of far off fairytale that was meant to be taken lightly. No, it was real, it was here, and it was now. At the moment, he was walking side-by-side with the King of Fortitude, his father. It was such a striking reality that James couldn’t even find words to describe it, hence his silence for nearly the entire conversation. James was usually a quiet man, but as of now, he genuinely had nothing to say.
~~~
And there she was… his mother. She was obviously flustered about something; must have been the ‘outlandish display’ his father mentioned earlier. It was no doubt connected to his affair with the woman from Lust. From his father’s words and his mother’s stress, young James was beginning to paint a very rebellious and cavalier picture of Haven inside of his head. Although, James had to remind himself that he must hold on to first impressions until he met the man himself.
Suddenly, James was caught in an embrace from the Queen… his mother, and he still did not know what to say. Tears choked around his eyelids momentarily; it was like Delilah hugging him, after long days in the field. He had been living two years now without any sort of human companion for comfort and warmth… and he had it again. He had an entire family – his father, his mother, and brothers… he suddenly had this urge to meet them all now… to truly be part of the family.
~~~ Time Skip ~~~
Dusk found James in his new chambers, his bags and possessions in a heap against the wall. James removed his sword and his chainmail, and was now lounging in his robes, staring out of his window. What an interesting day. He had a long talk with his mother and father, discussing his role in the kingdom, what were to happen if Haven fell, etc. They said such unkind things about Haven and his Lustian woman named Lorelei… James was beginning to wonder if it was all true, or merely exaggeration. James made a mental note to go see them tomorrow after breakfast and see them himself. He knew of the manipulation that went on behind the doors of the royal castle, and he was not about to be manipulated himself.
A lone candle sitting on a table next to him flickered and burned, casting a small glow onto James’s features. This was definitely taking some getting used to. He would not have to ride into town everyday to fetch meals or supplies… everything was at the castle. This was the life of a royal… hopefully it wouldn’t be too boring for him.
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 5:19 pm
  XXXXXXXI wear this chaos well.
XXXXXXXThough none should save me,
XXXXXXXdesperation keeps me here,
XXXXXXXmy need for innocence,
XXXXXXXthe place where I began
XXXXXXXThe abyss becomes me,
XXXXXXXAre these not words of heresy
XXXXXXXa venom on my lips, a poison?
XXXXXXXEvery cry a wasted moment
XXXXXXXuntil another day is lost.
XXXXXXXEven lands we once called home
XXXXXXXlie undiscovered and unknown.
XXXXXXXOnly heaven's silence for an answer.
XXXXXXXAnd did our laughter, did our tears
XXXXXXXhave some purpose after all?Kingdom of: Humility, First Princess
Location: Dining Hall - Then Temple
Quote: "To be humble to superiors is duty, to equals courtesy, to inferiors nobleness..." “I must try.”, she whispered to her brother—Refusing to acknowledge that both Lucien and Dorian were gone in an instant. Naedira tried…Again and again to heal the dragon-born boy…Tried until she physically could not. The light under her hand grew fainter and fainter—Just as she grew more and more dizzy. Distantly she heard Ryan pleading with her…But it wasn’t until he ripped Lucien from her grasp that her wounded gaze turned to her elder sibling…Horror rising up her throat as blood sprayed in his direction.
Ryan left her then. For the first time that she could remember…He left her. She felt a distinct sense of abandonment… Though it was less cruel than it could have been, knowing that her Father was not far behind her…She could feel Madelyne near to her suddenly, the subtle fragrance of her perfume reassuring to her, through the sickening scent of death.
Still.
Her heart wrenched that Ryan would leave her side now. Of all times… Now, was when the Heir of Humility deemed his sister undeserving of his presence.
The Shield Maiden slowly came to her feet…Drenched in the lifesblood of the damned. The coppery scented redness coated her gown and small form…She couldn’t look up from the gore. From the remains of her friends…Her stomach twisted when she realized that the blood she wore was still warm. Were she not going into shock, she would have been appalled… But as it were, she only mourned the loss of the two at her feet.
She felt sudden hands on her upper arms, though it took her several moments to look towards the person that had taken hold of her. Even though the touch was faintly cool…She didn’t seem to truly feel anything. Azure eyes...Rimmed with darkness, and pale gold along the pupil filled with tears all over again as Kirkis spoke softly to her. She heard what he said…Heard the words—But her heart hammered in her chest…Her injured expression silently begging him to take back the truth.
Her eyes closed when the man promised her that Dorian and Lucien would be given a proper burial...And slowly she stepped back…Giving him room, to do what needed to be done.
Hazel orbs stared blankly at the gruesome scene until it was no more…Salty water falling unbiddenly from hollow eyes, causing the dark kohl she’d lined them with to run. Shame flooded through her like a tidal wave as she slowly started to accept that she was too late… Or that her magic was too weak. By the time she was strong enough to try and heal Lucien again…It would already be too late. He would be cold.
As the blood disappeared from her form…Her slim shoulders shuddered with the sudden, indisputable knowledge dawning on her, that it was too late, the moment that Dorian and Lucien had walked into the dining hall.
The memory of the Page boy came back to her… And sudden anger filled her, like she’d never known.
This new Avarician Heiress had staged this. All of it. Like a childs game.
It was the voice of her little sister that brought her anger crashing back down…Back to much safer levels of sadness. Were she to attack this new Princess in retribution…She would most certainly lose. And lose badly. It would injure her Kingdom, her people. No matter what she personally felt…No matter how badly she wanted to avenge the Black children… She couldn’t. Her hands were duty bound. Her voice was strained…Low, and achingly pained when she responded to Madelyne…“I…I am here, little love.”
Kirkis had let go of her arms to…To remove the remains…Now Madelyne held her up. And likely…The inherent need to be stalwart for the littlest Riley beside her was the only thing that kept her on her feet. The only thing that kept her knees from buckling as exhaustion caught up with her-- Dizziness sweeping over her.
She let her sister lead her towards the Father…Naedira could not look him in the eye. No doubt he would be disappointed in her for causing a scene. She bowed respectfully as they were given permission to leave the hall. That, at least she would do correctly.
They approached Altonair and Evony…Her shame grew tenfold. Between the visions of her doing the most…Inappropriate things with Dominique’s guardsman and failing to react appropriately to the deaths of the former Avarician royals…The entire dinner had been a sham. Her eyes remained on the ground—Unwilling to look her fiancé in the eye. Unwilling to see his disgust.
Another voice brought itself back—Kirkis. He was so genuine…So kind…Were she in the right frame of mind, she would have thanked him for it. She looked between the butler and her sister, before her eyes turned towards the exit... Freedom, from a room, and a scent that would forever horrify her.
“I wish to leave this place. Please.”, Naedira intoned gently…Her voice no more than a whisper. To speak louder, she felt, would break her in two.
Hours later found her kneeling in the temple on the Lord Veritas’ grounds alone…Guards had followed her when she left her chambers, no doubt at her Father’s command. She’d pretended not to notice them… The building was beautiful…Not connected to the main castle—One had to pass through the gardens to get there. Everything, save a few benches that looked recently washed was covered in a fine layer of dust. This place of reprieve must have simply been raised for the comfort of the guests in the castle… Naedira could only be thankful for it’s presence.
The princess had at some point changed out of the gown she’d worn to dinner… No matter whether or not kind Kirkis had removed the blood…She could still feel it. Smell it. See it on her hands.
She would never wear that dress ever again. It would be burned.
Her hands clasped before her, fingers laced together—She prayed. Her knees remained bent beneath her, head bowed in penance. The Shield Maiden was clad in a gown of the deepest blue—So dark that it was nearly black. It was respectful to don the colors of twilight after someone had so recently passed. Her face remained hidden from view with a sheer veil of the same color. So many customs to observe…The princess would not miss a single one.
She pleaded for Dorian and Lucien to be protected…Safe, as they moved from one life to the next. Asked that they be allowed passage to a better life than they’d been given in this world. Naedira begged the Old Gods for forgiveness …For breaking her vows to her station, family, and Kingdom. Soft, melodic, continuous words left her…The repeating of prayers, over and over.
Naedira was exhausted—On the verge of collapse, truth be told… But these things could not wait for something so paltry as sleep. Meditation would have to suffice. Nothing was more important than this.
She wished….Wished that she had the strength to cast a spell. There were two that she needed. One…To pull back the curtain—To allow her to see her visions in full. She needed to know if they were true. And two…Was entirely selfish. She wanted to turn herself to stone…At least if she became a statue for a short period of time…She couldn’t shame her family as she broke, like glass.
It couldn’t happen until she was stronger…So she simply remained, praying in complete stillness…Only candles burning to light the shadows of the room.
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 8:24 pm
 Kingdom: Hubris
Rank: Servant
Location: Unknowingly beneath James Greene's window
Admiring the basket of rose bulbs that Aoife had to plant, Ella was startled by a guy walking up to them and frowning at the dirt patch. She waited for a second, unsure if she should bow or run away for the servant had never seen this man before. “Um, good day, sir.” Ella said quickly after realizing no matter who it was she still had to be polite. It was then that the man introduced himself as Sokar, the gardener.
Skewing her head to the side a little bit, a habit of hers, she blinked at the man. Sokar? Sokar? Why was that name so familiar to her? She knew she must have heard it around the castle, and the only image that came to mind was a furry, wolf looking creature. With a loud gasp Ella closed a hand over her mouth, her mind reeling with memories of the embarrassing first time encounter she had had with the head gardener of Veritas’s castle. Wondering if the wolf man remembered the potted plant fiasco (she also briefly wondered what had happened to the plant) Ella bowed her upper body. “Sir Sokar, it is a pleasure to see you again. But, the last time I saw you, you were a….” Ella caught herself before she said ‘dog’ “….wolf. Or at least a half wolf perhaps? Is this your other form?” the servant had no inclination of what had happened before Sokar’s current appearance in the garden, but it didn’t matter. From the light in the sky she would be needed back in the castle, and as if on cue a servant peered through a bush in the garden, motioning Ella to come back. “Please excuse me, I am needed else where.” Ella bowed her head and scurried off to the castle.
Time Skip
Ella looked nervously around the grass as dusk began to fall, the chatter of the few maids that were sitting around her not helping to sooth her nerves. Dinner was done and due to the lack of activity (for the servants anyway) some of the maids thought it would be fun to sit outside in the tall grass next to the castle and chat. The circle was sitting under a lone window, with what appeared to be candle light flickering from the room but one could not be sure if it was because someone was inside. Some how or other, Ella had been dragged along and she was worried that the royals of the Hubris family would find her. Now, technically she wasn’t doing anything to warrant punishment, but she also wasn’t tending to the Hubris family’s every whim, so that most certainly warranted some sort of beating.
‘Ella! Lets play a game!’
Ella snapped her head in the direction of a young maid who called for her. “A game? I do not know of any games that we could play now, and I suppose we’re all too old for the games I would think of.” The other girls giggled, for they were all roughly the same age, and began debating what to do. One suggested a game of hide and seek, thinking the castle grounds would be the perfect play area for such a thing. The others shot it down, saying they would for sure be in trouble for doing that. Another suggested an old singing game, where one starts a song and someone tries to finish it. The girl who can identify and sing the most songs correctly by the end (or in other words, when they get caught) wins. Ella agreed, starting to pick up on the relaxed vibe that was seeping through out the circle.
The game began and after a rough start Ella picked up on lyrics and melodies that she had learned when she was a child. When it was her turn to choose a melody, she started off with an old song that told a story of a man who fell in love with a mermaid. It was pretty light and the melody was smooth as it rolled off her lips.
“Twas on the deep blue ocean,
Midst Equinoctial gales;
This young farmer fell overboard
Among the sharks and whales;
He disappeared so quickly,
So headlong down went he,
That he went out of sight
Like a streak of light
To the bottom of the deep blue sea.
We lowered a boat to find him,
We thought to see his corse,
When up to the top he came with a bang,
And sang in a voice so hoarse,
'My comrades and my messmates,
Oh, do not weep for me,
For I'm married to a mermaid,
At the bottom of the deep blue sea!"
Unbeknown to the girls, the window they were sitting below was indeed inhabited by a prince who was kept company by a lone flickering candle.
Out Of Character: Feeling rather silly tonight so this post is rather...silly? ^_^;;
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Posted: Thu Jan 12, 2012 5:24 am
 Ӻӓήȡɍᾀʆ Ψѳȴϝɍąɱ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☠ Ӄingdom: Avarice
Ɍank: Vice Marshal
Ƚocation: Temple
Ⱦhoughts: Oh, temptations ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☠ Fandral’s accusing eyes had been locked on the praying woman’s form for several minutes now. He’d been following the woman for a while now, keeping himself rather well-concealed the entire time. Initially he did not want to get her alone so soon, but Dominique insisted, to the point where she ordered him to leave her side and seek the answers he so desired. Frankly, he preferred not to leave her side today, especially with the way they’d surely painted a target on their heads. Secretly though, he simply wanted to spend more time with her; it has been years since he’d seen her before today, and much as he was a man devoted to his duty, he also wanted to catch up with the heiress. But he would not argue; he vowed to obey any and every order that came from her lips, and he would do so.
He was confident that the woman’s pet could sufficiently protect her, it was not something he wanted to risk. He cared about her far too much.
Bypassing the Humilitan’s guards was all too easy for the assassin. Of all the skills Danika had taught him in his time in the Black Orchid, stealth and infiltration were the skills he was best at. It had been said many times by the guild leader that he had a natural talent for blending into one’s surroundings and hiding in plain sight. In keeping with this, he was able to walk in right under the guards’ noses using a stolen priest’s robe, with the hood up over his head concealing his face. Underneath the rather large crimson cloak he wore his old guild armor; a black leather vest and trousers with matching gauntlets and light padded boots. He played the role well, walking in that nonchalant hover that monks were known to do. In his clasped hands he held a row of beads and a rather large ornate cross that were dedicated to whichever god or gods this temple was devoted to.
He took a few quiet steps toward the woman’s side, the stolen hood more than enough to conceal his predatory gaze. He kneeled beside the woman, bringing his hands up as if to whichever deity ruled over this temple. He let out an inaudible sigh, then proceeded to mock the woman beside him in an a tone only loud enough for her to hear. ”Forgive me, old gods, for I have sinned a great deal; but alas, were I to confess any such sin, I would be here the whole night… and those would only be today’s trespasses.” A devilish smirk appeared on the vice marshal’s lips as he spoke to the Humilitan. He turned his head toward her so she can see the surprise on her face.
”Your guards are of rather poor stock, Your Highness,” he said as he wrapped his fingers along the rim of the hood, slowly pulling it down behind his head. He made no conscious effort to hide how much he was enjoying himself. Before she could utter a word he spoke up again. ”Do not worry your pretty little head, ma dame. Were I here to assassinate you, Votre Altesse would never have even known my presence. Moreover, I would not have come unarmed.” He pulled down on the edges of his sleeves and opened his robes enough to show that there were no daggers hidden beneath the folds and no weapons hanging from his waist. Of course, he did not need weapons to do his job; he was every bit as skilled unarmed as he was with his signature blades.
”In fact, quite the opposite, I assure you.” He stood up straight and discarded the priest robes he’d been wearing, the disguise now completely unnecessary, leaving him in the simple suit of stealthy leather armor given to all members of his guild. ”I am here because ma maitresse has made it clear that no harm is to come to you so long as the House of d’Aquitaine is represented on these castle grounds. You see, as ma maitresse’s conduit, I am bound by any order she gives. Given your guards’ utter lack of vigilance, one can see where we might be a little concerned for your safety.”
He casually took a seat nearby the Humilitan witch, leaning back on the bench with a smirk. ”There is, however, a small matter we need to discuss. And I’m quite sure it is one you are enthusiastic to address.” He crossed his arms, his expression now a little less playful and his gaze a little more accusatory. ”I have been having visions suddenly. All of them involve you, and I believe that is no coincidence at all.” He paused for a moment to lean a bit closer to the princess. ”Except they do not feel like visions, but more like obscured memories. In my mind I can smell the perfume, taste of your lips, and feel your flesh upon my own as if all this had really happened; but I know as well as you do that such an event has never occurred.” He took another moment to clear his throat, then continued. ”You use magic; you’ve not hidden the fact. I believe you to be the culprit. I believe you have cast some kind of hex on me for reasons I do not know.”
“As I am sure you are aware, technically I am the rightful heiresses’s property; officially I am a vice marshal, and hold some degree of power in my kingdom. But I also hold the pleasure and distinction of being the heiress’s personal conduit, and thus her property. In our kingdom hexing royal property is punishable by death, but ma maitresse has given me strict orders not to kill you. She has also decided to give you the benefit of the doubt so long as you prove your innocence, or explain your actions if you are guilty.” A smirk once again appeared on his face, eyes relaxing a bit but no less vigilant. ”But really, Votre Altesse, if you wanted such events to occur all you really needed to do was ask; I don’t think even I have it in me to deny one so beautiful as yourself”
“Though I wonder how your betrothed would feel should he learn of the scarlet visions you have cast upon me…” ((OOC: Permission was given for everything in here.)) ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☠ A silent melody, a surface memory,
A sound symphony became a part of me.
A sudden shift between a different frequency,
My hand has spread the sea, it's like there's a god in me.
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Posted: Thu Jan 12, 2012 3:24 pm
 A lady with a violin,
Playing to the seas
Hearken to the sound of calling
I tied myself to the wheel
The winds talk to my sails, not me
Come to me....Come to me... Somewhere _____________________________________________________ there my fate revealed...
I hear but how will I see? Kingdom Lust Rank: Youngest Princess Location: outside of the dining hall A small smile touched orange blossom lips when Sasha made note of the fact that being called daft in his position would further his career. How... odd it was, the differences between their classes – a woman of her stature, if dubbed touched was a surefire way to keep her hidden, eliminate her from ever seeing matrimony. As they rounded into the great hall that would lead them to the dining area, Sasha suggested that they remain out of there, to take Sokar's warning and avoid the discomfort. “It would be wise.” The princess agreed with a soft melody trailing not far behind her words. But she'd never said that she was... and Ryan needed her. “But I shall wait for heir of Humility to venture out.” For it was he who she wanted to see, and not her sister who forbade her from entering the mess hall. And had it not been for Ryan telling her the same, the young woman's rebellious streak against her elder sibling would have been enough to ensure that she peeked in.
A man who resembled what she imagined Dante would looked like with a few years to him approached, and she listened to his tale, noticing the knife's sheath that she'd presented him with a long time before. Twas odd, for she felt as though she'd dreamt this before – in the different world they'd been allowed to briefly explore. ”Dante, you've grown into a man in less than a fortnight!” She stated, shocked enough that she was surprised that she wasn't lame. “But how do we undo the spell? We shan't have someone rob you of your youth.” But the playful side of her was gone when she plucked the strings of Ryan's mind once more, remembering the sorrow he'd held with her. “I'm afraid that much is afoot here, brother.. The seas are ever trublent without the changing of the tides.”
“Micah's coming with something of import as well.” Were it not for the circumstances, she would have sneered the name; that she didn't only indicated how worried she truly was. As their days grew longer in the plane, Lorelei fast found herself falling deeper into the heart of matters where she didn't belong. Nathaniel's killing spree not the least of these troubles.
There was much going on, her heart beat wildly like a frightened bird constrained in too small of a cage as she waited for Ryan's reply. Stay safe? That he didn't want to think about the loss... the princess nibbled at her lower lip, and her eyelids grew heavy as she contemplated just who had been hurt... And whether or not Nathaniel had been behind it. Though her anxiety was great, she was only there a few moments before a very worn heir stumbled out of the dining hall. Impulsively, she started to take a step toward him, but reminded herself silently that it wouldn't be proper to rush headlong into one of his no doubt savory embraces. Nor would he likely care for her to intrude upon his personal space.
Touch was healing for those born of Lust, where, if Ryan were brethren to her, it'd have soothed his soul, put him far more at ease than any tonic would have. But as the first words poured off of his tongue, silver tears sprang to the siren's eyes, falling to her cheek without hesitation. Dorian... the only outside friend she'd had before coming to this plane of existence. “Nay.” She whispered, the aria that followed a sad sonata. “It can't be.” Who would kill the Avaracian princess and her brother? But he answered that before she could even postulate the query. Against all of her wants, Lorelei remained cool, not sputtering any sort of curse on the new heirress' name – twas not as though it would do any good anyway. Dorian was already gone, and by the looks of how soiled Ryan's garbs were, it had not been a merciful execution.
But he stated that he needed to leave, and she couldn't possibly allow it. Without warning, her arms wrapped about the man's midriff out of a staunch need to be held as she took in the grim news. Ice chilled in her veins nonetheless, and her tears only furthered the stains on the heir's shirt. “You shouldn't be alone right now, your imminence.” It was a silent offering, if he'd hear it, to take her with him. “Not when you're in this state.” ~Take someone with you, please.~ A part of her wished that it could be her he wished to be with, but it was a selfish seed, and one she would fret over if it ever came to fruition. No matter how she tried, men around her tended to land into a muck of chaos, what with fleeting emotions and wants.
It was here that her sister found her. Here where her sister could openly address all that had gone amok – from Dorian and Lucien's death, to the fact that Lorelei was doing what was forbidden. Micah's hand found her shoulder, and much as she hated it, Lorelei's head became more clear. This would spell scandal.
“I'm sorry, mi'lord.” Sh e whispered, bidding her tears to stay bottled up forevermore, even if they were too stubborn to pay the princess any heed. Slowly she let go of him, however reluctant the move might have been. “The news, even as grim as it is, has startled me. The late ” She nearly choked on the word, but refused to give it more credence. To show such a weakness was foolhardy, one was not to show the heart on their sleeve with such an audience. “Dorian and I have been friends since she started going to the Lustian Season... I was but a child when we met.” And the woman had saved her from one of Richard Gavini's more harsh whippings. Try as she had, her voice had been faint, with but a quiver holding it together as she spoke of the times before, when the siren had not ever thought Dorian's life could truly be in danger. “And it's caused me to behave foolishly, shaming you by being so familiar with one of a higher rank than myself.” The princess could only pray that he'd forgive her the faux pas.
Corrine suggested that Ryan retire to his chambers, and that Lorelei and Sasha go as well – calling the man hers. A flick of her amber eyes fell to gauge the man's response to that, for he was most assuredly a free man, even if the princess enjoyed his sense of humor, and input on subjects they'd found themselves conversing over. “H-he's not mine to claim or give, but as good natured as the bard has been, I would have little doubt he'd offer his company if only you'd ask.” She offered, trying to right what she'd just done.
Micah murmured her name, and the silver drops spilled onto ivory cheeks. Now wasn't the time to fall apart in front of her sister, who would think it the perfect place to try and fix the damage done between them. “She's gone, Micah.”
Dorian of Avarice would never again be in their company; she, the dear soul that Lorelei had adored and nearly idolized growing up, was dead.
[[Oddly Oafish Commentary:.]] The siren sang so sweet and watched the sailors go down, anyone would drown
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Posted: Fri Jan 13, 2012 5:19 am
XXXXXXXI wear this chaos well.
XXXXXXXThough none should save me,
XXXXXXXdesperation keeps me here,
XXXXXXXmy need for innocence,
XXXXXXXthe place where I began
XXXXXXXThe abyss becomes me,
XXXXXXXAre these not words of heresy
XXXXXXXa venom on my lips, a poison?
XXXXXXXEvery cry a wasted moment
XXXXXXXuntil another day is lost.
XXXXXXXEven lands we once called home
XXXXXXXlie undiscovered and unknown.
XXXXXXXOnly heaven's silence for an answer.
XXXXXXXAnd did our laughter, did our tears
XXXXXXXhave some purpose after all?Kingdom of: Humility, First Princess
Location: Temple
Quote: "To be humble to superiors is duty, to equals courtesy, to inferiors nobleness..." Naedira head the doors to the temple open, but didn’t move an inch. Her lips kept moving, repeating the same prayers over and over…The same chants, the same rites. She couldn’t say them enough. She was frightened—Distraught. If the Old Gods couldn’t provide her succor…There would be no peace for her. She had blind faith in her fathers men…Any that had followed her would gladly throw themselves upon an enemy blade to spare her. It only wounded her fragile sensibilities further to think of such things.
The footsteps of a man stopped at her side. She paid the individual no mind, as he knelt near her. They were all equally small, in the eyes of the Makers. Everyone was welcome to worship as they pleased here…No matter the Kingdom, no matter the God. Her prayers grew softer, though no less insistent, if to observe respect for the person that had joined her.
The virtuous young woman froze when the man started to…Mock her. Hazel eyes peered through the veil, widening a fraction of an inch to realize whom had come to rest at her side. The smirk that accompanied his heresy made her blood run cold. Anger filled her, though it was overwhelmed by sadness and an innate sense of fear.
This was the man that had killed Lucien so coldly. The force of his blow still rang in her ears…Like a falling star. He was the man from the visions.
Somehow…Despite her trembling hands, she managed to steel her will…What little she had left. The Shield Maiden of Humility, First Princess, and daughter to King Riley did not flinch. She did not bow and break. These were vows she had taken… Oaths, that she intended to uphold. “I apologize, if my guards displease you Sir. I shall be sure to inform them, of their apparent stock.”
She paused…Tone somehow still gentle. Still kind. This was the unending kindness of Humility. The guard to the new Avarician royal kept talking, at great length. He assured her that he wasn’t there to take her life, just as he and his mistress had taken the lives of the Black children…
The princess refused to look, as he exposed his wrists and sleeves—Proving his claim of being unarmed. With or without weapons, she couldn’t say she believed him. He was twice her size. Her magic was spent. If he wanted to overpower her…He would. Long before she had time to scream for help.
“If your sins are so great…Perhaps you should remain. They will listen, if you intend to speak true.”, Naedira trailed off softly, her eyes turning back to the floor as they closed…She wished nothing more than to get back to her meditation. To beg forgiveness, for things she had no control over. For things she had not done. Her heart broke…Everytime the man spoke. She could only remember the feeling of Lucien’s blood on her hands. Still warm. “I do not know if they can forgive such a long list…But they will listen.”
He stood up and she fought to keep still…To avoid shrinking away when he removed his priest’s robes. She was terrified on the inside, rightfully so. Whether or not his Lady wanted her dead was of no consequence…He moved like a creature of darkness. An assassin. She’d heard the stories…Her family would never find a body to bury. Though perhaps the yoke he wore so proudly would keep his word for him.
Still, she ignored his presence…Her lips began to move again as she returned to her earnest plea’s. That is, until he mentioned the visions. His mockery all made sense now…Her stomach dropped out as she actually looked toward him, unable to hide the fear and dishonor that threaded through her. Her stomach…Turned as he finished speaking, her eyes closing as her face paled. Truth be told, she was very near to fainting. All of this was too much for her royal, virgin blood and ears. “Do not speak of such things in this hall. I implore you…Not to speak of such things in my presence. We do not know one another—I do not know you. I only know that you have taken from me. I know only, that you have stolen life, as easily as one would pluck a feather from a cap.”
New, frustrated tears escaped her—Despite herself. She wanted so badly to be strong…To rebuke this man completely. But she had no idea of the truth. Only what small scraps she could remember.
“You are not the only one afflicted. I have seen…”, she swallowed hard, her eyes closing, as if to banish the memories that returned to her unbiddenly. They were scarce…As if a soft breeze would take them away. But they were there. “I have viewed things in my minds eye that -I- have never truly seen. I am a Shield Maiden of Humility…. I have never known the touch of a man—Nor will I, until I am wed. That is my vow—My choice.”
“These visions…”, her voice broke, as her hand formed a fist…”They are not my choice.”
The young princess could not help but draw deep breaths as her eyes burned…She was frightened, and likely still in shock from the deaths of her friends. All she had wanted to do was to seek guidance in peace.
“I have fey blood. Magic is in me—It is what I am….But I use my gifts at the will of the crown. I defend. I am a Shield Maiden—I shield. I protect my people…Keep them safe from harm. I fight, only when I am made to fight. I would not do this. I could not do this.”, Naedira tried to explain, her voice raw from emotion. Her honesty rang clear as a bell…The visions disturbed her deeply. “If anything…I wondered if this might be a plot from your Lady after the deaths of…Of…”
Naedira could not speak their names, to their murderer.
“But…It happened –before- they were slain. What sense, what purpose does that hold?”, she questioned hopelessly…Eyes turning to the gilded statues in the room…As if they would provide her the answers. But they were silent…Ever silent. As they always were.
He mentioned Altonair….Sweet, gentle Altonair… And she flinched. Her eyes fell to the ground as her hands cupped her face behind the veil that hid her. Her body bent, if possible, moreso…Crumbling under the weight that was suddenly a burned to her. “I-I wish that I could say how my betrothed would respond…And I will soon find out. You needn’t think to blackmail me… I…I will tell him myself. I do not want our life to begin with secrets and lies…If it is to begin at all.”
The Prince of Envy would cast her aside…She was sure. Even if the betrothal held…He would no longer see her as anything more than a common harlot. Her arms wrapped around herself as the perceived opinions of others started to choke her…. She’d worked all her life, to do everything that a Princess should. To be the perfect, loyal wife, to a good, strong husband.
It was all ruined.
“Please…Leave me…”, she requested through tears. Nothing could save her dignity now…Crying before those which killed her friends? Recalling…Relations, with that same person? It was blasphemy. “I cast no spell upon you…I am haunted by you, for more reasons than simple memories. My strength is spent this night… I have nothing left to give. Were I able to use my gifts…Perhaps I could try and uncover the truth…But I cannot. Every last shred I had I poured into a...a corpse.”
This whole debacle…It had ruined her. It would ruin her family.
“Do not call me beautiful. Do not look at me. Do not stay so close. Do not think of me. I have done nothing…Please. Please take your leave.”
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Posted: Fri Jan 13, 2012 11:29 am
 Location: Nathaniel's Personal Chambers
Warning: The word-count is around 8,000...Our bad. We promise that it's really interesting?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dusk had long settled into the horizon, the last rays from the sun banished from the skies, and the news of the young princess Rosalie's death occupying the forefront of Lorelei's mind... plaguing her conscience that was already so heavily laden with her guilt. Were it not for her voice, the satin aria that sought to bring men and women alike begging... several people wouldn't have died.
He'd placed the blame on her shoulders -- a burden so cumbersome because she could share it with no one. To do so, would be a reckoning of Nathaniel's careful reputation and subsequently, he'd bring an end to her. Not even the siren would be able to stop him in the attempts, for the ruination of an heir was no small matter.
For the first time, since the night in the abandoned library, Lorelei felt for the link between them. ~Nathaniel....~ He'd be used to the hours in which she called him. But it'd been so long since she'd used this to find him... that her soft inflections might be staggering (as much as they could be with him), wracking him temporarily with the full force of her song.
~We need to speak.~ Though she'd rather skip the whole endeavor. She'd rather... not be in his presence when it was just the pair of them. Where the temptation could prove to be too great. Slowly, she closed her eyes, amber irises shut off from the world as she hoped to the demons below that he'd not prove violent.
Never, did she think she'd call upon him, when she'd spent a rather copious amount of time, hoping that he'd not hold to his promise, that he'd demand her attention, want to see her in a secluded area where no one would be the wiser should he decide to dispose of her, viewing her as nothing but a liability to his perfect mask.
~Where might I find you?~ The siren purred, knowing well that he'd not be grieving as he so pretended to be. His eyes were pure ice in the darkness, when no others were about to see his mask fall. They were frigid, unforgiving storms, staring listlessly at the gardens beneath his windowpane…watching without interest as the night’s frost crystallized upon their dainty leaves and brambles. Long fingers had curled offhandedly beneath his chin, the heir’s body positioned in a way that seemed simultaneously thoughtful and dangerous; the alcove which housed the window housing also his entire form, one knee propped to support his elbow.
A position which might be gleaned as something innocently pensive, were his features not so void; not so cold that one’s arms might pock and tremble from the mere sight of him. But this was Nathaniel’s thoughtful; his pensive. This was entirely his normal, which to all but him would seem an anomaly. Frigid gaze, lax stature; a picture befitting someone far more diabolical than what he oft presented himself to be.
And if he’d slept recently, there was nothing in his appearance which hinted at the act; snowy tresses remained well-kept, swept easily away from his face and eyes. His clothing remained without any noticeable creases to speak of, save what his current position against the window required of them. He was alone with himself; molded contentedly to the quiet…his solace, and boredom; body sitting stationary, watching the sun cast its last rays on the hilltops.
And of course, it would be at this late hour that she would choose to call upon him; the princess did have a talent for picking times which would provide them with complete seclusion…and it bade him to wonder if her reasons for doing so lay in the possibility of her being daft, or simply suicidal. As always, the initial attack which the siren’s aria made upon his being set his lip atremble, teeth falling to graze at the gentle flesh there whilst he willed the annoyance away. ~If that is your wish, princess…~ He forced his thoughts away for a moment, trailing off before righting himself against the window…sliding into a more regal sitting position, ~I am in my chambers…you’ll forgive me for requesting that you be discreet; tongues would wag if anyone were to find a woman entering a grieving man’s chambers at so early an hour.~ If the statement were meant to be teasing, the prince had neglected to garner any playful lilt behind it. Rather, he opted to leave it at that…eyes callously finding the doorway to his room, latching his gaze there in wait for the Lorelei’s arrival. Atypical of the princess, her hair cascaded down to the small of her back, falling in loose auburn curls that, even when not catching any light, had a certain luster to it that could make someone take a second glance – the siren's unprecedented beauty so obvious then, even without the aid of her song... Lorelei was a fetching sight. One that could leave a man's mouth watering, anticipating the feel of her lush, glossy lips against their own.
As she communicated with the heir to Envy, Lorelei checked upon her appearance through the reflective glass in her bureau room, to make sure that every curve was carefully hidden well enough beneath the folds in her garbs. The bodice, unfortunately wasn't exactly conservative with the neckline... but switching dresses would require the help of a hand maid, and this rendezvous was not something she wanted to alert anyone of. No doubt, seeking the attention of a man who was not her betrothed would birth a scandal, and Lorelei had enough of those on her own, without adding this dire situation to it.
The dress itself was purple in hue, rich and complemented her pallid and perfect complexion. But with the night, she'd doffed the matching gems, leaving nothing to distract the heir with when she finally found him, were he to accept her company this early morn.
The timing was not opportune, but the circumstances were dire enough, playing well inside her breast that it couldn't be helped. ~It is,~ She returned, trying to state her desire to see him with a conviction that would mark innocence, but that she couldn't be perturbed of her intent. The statement that followed his location caused ire to stir within her, jaw clenching as she forced herself to sound pleasant, the song that so naturally laced itself with her words doing wonders to hide any displeasure she found with his accusation. ~But of course... We need not the attention of anyone this night.~ Because she'd not yet slept... it still felt like the dusk was upon her, even if the sun would soon rise high in the sky.
Smoothing her skirt, Lorelei held her head high as she stepped lithely into the hallway, amber orbs probing the area to see if anyone would be aware of her sneaking out. ~I'm on my way.~ She said, the distinct area holding the tone of a gentle lullaby, attempting to coax the heir subconsciously to be in a pleasant mood when she faced him.
Not that he'll remain that way for long.
No one had seen her sauntering through the halls with a purpose, and she made not a sound as her feet carried her to her destination. But she took a deep breath when she happened upon Nathaniel's door, bidding her nerves to settle, lest he see how he effected her. ~I'm here.~ The princess announced gently before turning the knob on the door, and darting inside before anyone could see her.
The sight of him was staggering, and Lorelei inhaled sharply at his appearance... unable to help the attraction the brewed so strongly inside of her, as if she were a seeping tea bag, left too long in boiling water. Out of habit and nothing else, her knees bent in reverence, the movement causing her long auburn tresses to be cast in front of her eyes, obscuring her vision for just a second before she tucked them carefully behind her ear. “My lord, we've much to discuss.” The first being, the subject of whether or not you murdered your little sister. She thought dryly. She breathed, hoping he'd not take note of how she'd hesitated upon seeing him.
“I'll thank you for entertaining me this morn so that we could have the opportunity to do so.” Her teeth subtly bit the inside of her lip while she deliberated just how to go about accusing him. “I hear you experienced the loss of a sibling yesterday.” And that, was truly as good of a segue as any.
And surely, he'd know exactly what she was getting at, without her needing to say it outright. At her affirmation that their rendezvous was indeed a necessity, the heir tipped his head forward in a way that bid flaxen hair to fall amidst glacial painted eyes, mouth setting to a perfect, innocuous line. She found the situation of great import, apparently, which piqued his curiosity just enough to quell the malicious feelings that oft came tethered to the siren’s call. Nathaniel opted that he’d not yet lead himself to wonder over her intents, though a few ideas slid surreptitiously to the forefront of his thoughts as he leveled his eyes at the door…portraying no outward satisfaction in the realization that his other statement had given her pause, if nothing else.
Nathaniel’s brow set to rising when she intruded upon his thoughts again, face falling terse while forces within him made strides to battle the feelings she conjured there. Outwardly, he'd striven to remain callous; calm, yes, but for reasons which he was fast to deem all his own.
All of the Heir’s efforts flooded into keeping the countenance he sported stagnant when she entered his chambers; he’d be hard pressed to acknowledge the feelings she granted him, however distant and obscured they might be. Always, his eyes would fall briefly to note her appearance, and while with others he might do so in want to garner an appropriate act, with Lorelei it had simply become something unintentional. It was faint, that attraction…oddly distant in comparison to what most would be prone to feel. Still, to the prince…simply feeling it at all proved it to be staunch.
As well as aggravating…
Nathaniel remained stationary when the princess curtsied, the chill which reflected his truer nature never escaping his features. At her words, his head again tilted, as if to feign that he was perplexed…though he failed to conjure the sentiment in full, opting instead to add only a slight lilt to his
tone, ”Do we?”
The brevity of her hesitation wasn’t enough to steal it from his notice, and he only used the knowledge of it as an invitation to stand; to take a few slight steps in her direction, visage laden with rigid stance and features…inwardly alight with the possibility of her choosing to run in response. With hope, she’d not be quite so pathetic just yet.
Indeed, Lorelei remained intent on speaking with him, her words flying to the air; a gentle, if annoying, sonata…one threaded with such a subtle accusation that for the first time, the heir felt a smile tugging at his lips. Faint, sardonic, but legitimate nonetheless. It was as he’d suspected; indeed, what he should have seen coming since Rosalie’s frail little being had first broken against the ground below her window…a lambasting from the woman who now knew him for what he truly was.
”Did you want to know simply, if she died by my hand…” Again, his steps brought him forward, fluidly snaking his walk around the princess…hands clasping contentedly at his back; some sort of odd, feigned diplomacy on his part, yet intentionally coming off as equally predatory. When they stood parallel to each other, he slowed his stride, eyes seeking to find her own amber-washed hues, ”Or if her death was also implemented on your behalf?” Like the princess Asuna’s had been. And of course, the siren princess would be pure enough to truly blame herself for the act; perhaps…also naive enough to think he’d not committed anything like it before they’d met. The trepidations of a roweling fear grasped at her chest as she moved inside of the heir's chambers, pushing the door shut behind her with an audible click. The auburn hair princess could only hope that this rendezvous would turn out differently than the one prior, where she'd been left on the floor, in a pool of silver tears, derived from her own desperation and guilt. That he would not attempt once more to usurp the last breath from her lungs, and that... the siren within her would be kept at bay – no doubt the temptress' goading had only caused the situation to rise to the point that it had like a well-leavened bread.
Her finely arced eyebrows drew together in a nonplussed fashion as his eyes fell on her form, unable to miss his appraising scrutiny. Though brief, the fact that the gelid eyes took interest caused a heat to creep into her cheeks, giving way to a slight pink color there. She chided herself silently, reminding herself that as handsome as he was, Nathaniel Wood was a rogue, a killer with few scruples when they were alone.
Much like they were now.
Though the reminder needn't have happened, as his true personality gleaned through his frigid stare when her eyes caught his. Forcing herself to swallow the slight terror that pulsed through her, Lorelei focused on her purpose.
All of her efforts in turn, went to not quaking at the prospect of rousing his anger. The conversation at hand was foolish – she should have left him well enough alone, should have pushed it aside and sought the company of a friend to ease her troubled mind. Of all the times for her not to remain true to her more gentle nature, she'd chosen this particular instance to display a false sense of fortitude, and go directly to the source of her guilty conscience. Foolish, foolish girl.
But it was too late to turn back, when the matter between them was just a breath away from being spilled into the air, the tension already winding between them tighter than her violin strings. Forcing herself to swallow the slight terror that now lay at the tip of her tongue, Lorelei nibbled at the edge of her bottom lip, while she tried to find the words to delve the conversation regarding Rosalie's death. What she'd managed, was a good of a start as any, she supposed.
Her chin tilted towards him once, and back down in a fluid motion when he inquired, as if it were a challenge. The breath caught in her lungs when he took it upon himself to stand and make a few small strides in her direction. It took every iota of courage she could muster not to take a step in retreat, to stand her ground. “Yes, Mi'lord; we've a matter that is paramount to speak of.” Music stressed different syllables, her voice lovely despite the fact that she was near the point of quivering with fear. A fear that, only Nathaniel thus far had been able to impart upon her.
She felt akin to a mouse to his feline as his steps drew him nearer. His stance shouldn't have made him so rapacious, but a dread for what was to transpire between them coiled in her stomach all the same. “I do.” She whispered, her voice taking on that of a tempest as a natural defense. He'd guessed her suspicions quickly enough, that she wanted to turn tail and run.
But it'd prove futile. A woman was weighed down by the heavy fabrics which made their garbs, so she'd be slower... and Nathaniel was much taller, the strides of his step longer. Even with a good head start.... Lorelei closed her eyes briefly, bidding herself not to allow tears to form. She'd brought this upon herself. “My conscience is heavy with another soul gone...” It shouldn't have been her fault; she'd not been in contact with the man since the night in the abandoned library four days ago. “I've come to clear it.” The siren said, with a conviction far more firm than she felt.Nathaniel wasn’t prone to displaying any emotion which he hadn’t want for others to see, and thusly kept what ire and feelings her aria made in him hidden…face akin to a statue’s while he waited for the woman to respond. Lorelei, in earnest, seemed to be doing what she could to retain her composure; he was marginally impressed to hear her voice emerge without waver…moreso, even, when she continued to stand her ground. It prompted something of a curious lift to the elven man’s features as, again, he looked her over; one could only wonder how long this courage would last.
”It’s sweet of you to think that every act I commit is done in your name.” A hand wove its way into the golden landscape of hair atop his scalp, now righting the strands which had earlier fallen…eyes continuously vacant, unreadable; their gelidness not simply in correlation to their hue.
And when Nathaniel’s hand again fell to its proper station, he covered the look with a mask; a saddened smile smoothing out the previous countenance, blotting what had made his stare so terrible, ”My sister was mad; suicidal…and though I had a hand in setting the scene to her demise, the outcome was assuredly not intentional. Those who witnessed the tragedy will state as such. I’m sure they will also attest to my valiant attempts to save her, and that Rosalie’s want to die was so vehement that she felt need to shake herself from my grasp.” A pause; his despairing tone faded. The mask again fell, ”That…is what all who were present will say, I’m sure.”
But Lorelei would know better, just as Liam had known better. Nathaniel’s steps again brought him closer to the girl, until they were but a breath apart, ”I released her hand…not because of you, but because she had proven herself to be worthless to me.” At his own admission, the man leveled his stare so that their eyes might again meet, ”Does that sooth your conscience, Lorelei? Is it enough to make you feel any better about her death?” The princess visibly shivered, the quiver moving all the way down to the base of her spine as Nathaniel responded to her query; the way he had said “every act” leaving a haunting note within the depths of her conscience, as if reiterating that those dead wouldn't be the first kill. “I would truly regard any reassurance that they are not all perpetrated will tattoo black marks upon my soul... if you'd be so inclined, and then I'll leave you to your black heart and the silence that will then encompass the rest of your morning.” The siren said bravely, her words satin ribbons in the air. Her amber eyes betrayed her, however – showing the meek nature that she was prone to, and that she was still very vulnerable, if not cautious of the callous man before her.
How... fluidly he shifted from one mood to the other, his expressions contorting as though he were donning a new masque for each emotion.
Nathaniel spoke of his sister, claiming that she'd gone delirious, willing to take her own life. However incredulous she was at the scene painted by the heir's statements regarding his sister's death, the siren listened intently, as though it were a report of grave importance. And just as he finished describing what the others would see, his countenance fell into the menacing leer that she was coming to know as the true Nathaniel Wood.
It was, just as she'd expected – that Rosalie's death had not been entirely on her own accord. “It does not, a death is something to mourn, not for one to selfishly seek comfort because the intentions what I originally thought.” She said softly, biting her lip, holding her breath in as he stepped forward, closing most of the distance between them.
Suddenly, he was too close... and the scent of him flooded her nostrils, waking a part of her she wanted so to repress. Of all the persons for her siren to goad – Lorelei would rather her choose someone less likely to strangle her. But it was too late in coming, the realization that the seductive being residing in her veins had won out against her weaker nature.
Her eyes narrowed, alight with a spark that only he seemed to bring out of her since Alexander's death. Well and truly, the Bellerose had successfully broken her spirit, her ability to fight. Born only in her plight against the one man who would slay her, her indignation and pride came to be a low, flickering ember in her bosom... giving way to an amount of courage that it in itself was questionable.
But, the siren within her wanted so desperately to enrapture Nathaniel, make him her toy for play.
“Is that what you do to anyone who proves less than useful to your own designs?” She accused, unsure of where the words were coming from. Her song was tempestuous, melodies carrying through with a growing tempo. “And what will you have of me? Knowing all of your secrets, as I do.” It was a mix between a sneer, and a taunt. Foolhardy, and quite obviously the siren taking control, the temptress working her melodies intentionally, stringing together harmonies meant to bring most to their knees, wanton with an unbridled desire.
She knew well enough that any emotion she garnered from him would be slight, but enough to press him further into her web. Because he was the most useful, of all the men seeking the young princess' hand. And she wanted him for it.His black heart, she said; were he someone of a more sinister stock, Nathaniel might have laughed at what she thought of him; Guffawed heartily…and reveled in the wickedness which she now believed to course through every vein, and cushion every muscle that comprised to build his body. Truthfully, it did not…at least, not so starkly, if only because the siren maiden’s ire failed to register enough with him to spark joy; and because seldom was the prince driven to mar anything for the sake of impiety alone.
But when one lacked the conscious urge to do good, to live righteously, he noted that they lost, too, the title of a hero, exemplar or all affiliated reputations. To be calculating…to live without need of moral value or positive thought was, as the princess had so rightly painted it, to have a “black heart”. And the heir took the insult in stride, donning a blank face whilst allowing her anger to roll through him, for once letting it drive him towards a true question. One which, though worded as more of a statement, cast shadows of inquisitiveness so bluntly that she’d be foolish to miss their implications,”I would be dishonest to say that I’m not…curious at your reaction. Your anger over the loss of a woman—nay, over two women, who you’d not even met.”
It was slight, her change in expression…but Nathaniel saw that he’d grown to know it by now; to see that it signaled a fierier, more devious side trying to emerge from her heart to bosom, and bosom to lips. Outwardly, he still gave her nothing; ever a beautiful, strongly built face laden with such gelidness that most would think to recoil from it. Within the prince, however, a fire belonging all to him tried to spark; one still befuddling…built with such a fervid dichotomy between want and loathing that he knew instantly to be wary of it.
Wary…yet still, he remained close to the siren. Dared not touch her yet, for fear that to do so prematurely would bear the wrong outcome, but still willed his visage to stagnancy. ”It is.” The confirmation matched his countenance in its roughness, although the siren’s call wore on him…rolled through him as her animosity had, imbued now with the sinewy tines of her song,; it’s tempo quietly tearing at flesh to drive out emotion, however little he possessed. ”There is no need to keep what isn’t useful; were you not so ensnared by your own affections, you could possibly find the reasoning in that. And I believe thoroughly,” A tilt of his gaze to the side, as if he pined to know her from another angle, ”-that there is something in you which is capable of such a notation.”
”And if I am wrong, Lorelei, then I shall have of you what I had hoped to have of you four nights ago.” There; the dark, seedy promise. In correlation to the statement, a hand rose to find the girl’s slender shoulder…fingers aiming to wrap themselves there in a way not yet forceful, though staunchly indicative of such future intents. ”Am I wrong, then, Milady?”He'd been a stone wall, hardened and void of any reaction as she called him names, accused him of horrific acts that would make a normal person, even guilty cringe. But Lorelei was fast learning that Nathaniel Wood was no ordinary man, and that his heart was as sinister as the demons deep below the soles of their shoes. She stamped a foot when he asked why she cared, “Because, if it was my presence that impelled you to slaughter another... my conscience will be heavy with the fact that, had I kept my distance from you, had I never uttered a word.. those breaths you stole from them wouldn't be their last.” She said with a storm's melody. “It matters not, that I did not know them; it matters that my existence drove you to steal the life of another being, without so much as one regret. I've enough blood on my hands, without you sullying what innocent intent I have left with your baleful agenda.”
She stepped back in retreat, but already she met the door with her back, so she made an effort to sidle along the wall to get away. He hovered closer still to her, despite the subtle change in her expressions, which made her wonder just what he was planning. The minacious look in his eyes caused a visible shudder to trill through her when he said disposing of someone was exactly what he did to those who outlived their use. ”No one ensnares a siren, Nathaniel.” She responded flatly, thinking only briefly upon the late Bellerose, and how he'd been the closest to cause her dependence. “Haven't you noticed, all those who've fallen prey to my call?” She crooned, the sensual smile playing at the corners of her lips.
Even he would eventually be putty in her hands.
But his words struck true on a chord, truly the temptress would concur with his declaration. People were to be used; they were toys. Her toys to manipulate as she pleased. And Nathaniel, because capturing him was such a monumental task, was her prize.
His hand snaked around her slender shoulder, the grasp firm but not yet suffocating. And the promise he uttered made well of what he intended to do. It had been a mistake to come here.
However the sentiments would have been parallel, the naïve princess marred straight through that comparison – her fighting to suppress the siren within her still determined. “No.” Auburn hair whirled in the air as she shook her head.
“It's wrong to prey upon people... to think them only pawns in your game.” She said bravely, stupidly. “Wrong to think yourself so important, that everyone who is nothing to you is nothing at all.” The young, foolish princess challenged.
“Kill me if you must, because I won't be a pawn for you to manipulate.” She hissed hotly, trying to mask her fear. “But know that you will be found out.” Somehow, the words ribboned around him, engulfing him in what would feel like satin against his skin, despite the harsh, foreboding tenor she'd been going for.
Unlike his other victims, Lorelei drew a lot of attention... so they'd notice when she didn't show up to break her fast in the usual fashion. He stared through her accusations, through the resounding echo of her delicate foot as it made contact with the stone flooring, eyes beset with a stolid frost. Let her blame herself; believe herself the true and only cause for his wrongdoings, if that was her want. He’d not be the one to make effort to dispel the beliefs, especially when they might be useful in his want to use her later. So he stood…stared, and gave her nothing; fought her ire with myriads of emptiness and snow. Nathaniel remained tall, still, ever the picture of a King, with eyes and intents falling to scrutinize the princess as she sped on through her rant…no stronger emotion than curiosity yet beguiling his countenance, although the onslaught of her song continued to lightly sting at his insides, as if in want for something more passionate than what he gave her now.
”You believe yourself to be innocent?” It was all the input he could pull from her latter outburst, tongue drawing out the syllables to the last utterance with something akin to disbelief, ”I’m not sure that I agree, Princess. Perhaps our avoidance of each other may have bought you time…years, possibly—but are you so naive as to believe that what lives inside of you is worthy of that title; of being called ‘innocent’? And are you truly so simple, so entirely dim, that you’ve lent yourself to the illusion that you can quell it?” It. The Siren...what tried so vehemently to string lust to every note she let loose from her lips—The prince leaned closer still, so that she’d almost taste the words upon his breath, ”The death of your innocence is an inevitability; whether it be by my hand before your own, is irrelevant.”
In a whir of amber painted hair, the siren stepped back from him in retreat, and this time the quaking of her form caught his notice distinctly. The prince followed her stride, a sneer forming where his stoicism had been as she let the siren take momentary hold upon her tone, ”Lust ensnares a Siren…and feeling, the whole lot of you.” He responded gravely, the way he placed emphases on the latter portion of his statement painting it clear that he wasn’t speaking solely of her now. Rather, Nathaniel’s declarations fell upon the heads of all he knew; every being in possession of what he himself could never understand. But he was dully happy to see the siren take its voice…and equally the opposite when she fell back to her outward self again.
Morality seemed to flood Lorelei’s petite frame, heaving angry words from her bosom yet again; singing that his actions had been wrong, depraved. Deplorable. Nathaniel could only shake his head in response, finding that he much preferred the spark she’d shown prior to this; that…was challenging. But this? This, was simply to be expected. ”I have no care for what you think is wrong, Lorelei; truly, I find the actions which people deem wrong to be innumerable. And more often than not, I cannot fathom why; why it is encouraged to focus on what is supposedly right, rather than on what is doubtlessly advantageous.”
A pause found him; found his hand just briefly before it tightened about her shoulder, and the prince outwardly allotted himself a moment to mull over what she said, ”If that is your wish, Princess…” The decision came promptly, with the heir leaning in so that he might whisper in her ear, ”I’m quite sure your father would forgive me for the transgression.”
The words left; the moment was gone, leaving no time for her reaction before his form swayed leftward, elbow rising fluidly to meet the her solar plexis, then in a fraction rising again to graze her chest before she fell. And inevitably, she would fall, the blow he’d placed there forcible enough to capture her breath—the brisk movement of his boot against her ankle ensuring that what remained of her balance would be soon whisked away.
His sneered words only caused her heart to fall into her stomach in a desperation he'd most assuredly never experienced. That he'd deem her innocence doomed from the start should have squelched her hope that he was wrong. But instead, her auburn tresses flew about in the air as she shook her head. “I'm not dim-witted, nor should I be+ discouraged from my optimism. Haven will find a way to halt the enchantment in my voice; I'm sure of it.” She whispered, willing herself to believe that now more than ever.
The man wanted her for his queen, and she'd do what she could to give him what he expected of her. “It is mine to take or preserve as I see fit!” The princess retorted angrily. “I'm not a killer, nor will I ever breed the intent of one. And for you to put that black mark upon my soul, is a note I cannot accept.” But she could taste him, an earthy taste falling upon her. It was an effort not to bridge that gap between them, when he was so close... so available for her to make her own. To put a claim on all of that brooding...
“Lust will not dominate me.” She said flatly, but even as she said it, she knew it was a lie... the echoes of her voice lulling, pulling towards him. Rather, the siren would dominate it... and everyone who came along her path... when it was advantageous, just like Nathaniel had said.
His grasp tightened, and Lorelei cringed, willing herself not to try and squirm underneath his hardening hand. A shudder raked up her spine when he leaned forward, telling her he'd kill her... if that's what she so desired. Amber eyes sparked alight with fire before narrowing – the sweet, innocent princess lost in the husky tones of the siren for now.
“Don't pretend that you'd kill me out of a favor for myself, or for my sire.” Knave! How dare he bring up her father.
The words left... and everything after was a blur, the impact of his elbow crushing against her abdomen a shock, that emitted one singular musical note of pain before she lost the air to make sound. She gasped, but nothing drew into her lungs. Automatically, she showed the weakness he'd birthed in her, hands rising to the afflictions in an effort to alleviate the pain, but her balance teetered, pain blinding her for a few seconds so that she couldn't prepare for the side swipe against her foot. Lorelei fell forward, face colliding with his shirt. The scent of it, when she caught a breath was intoxicating, left her mouth dry.
Her hands worked of her own accord, clutching desperately at his garbs, pulling on them to keep herself upright while she tried to even her breathing. Varlet! She hated him for this. Detested him for striking her, for forcing her to need him, even for something as simple as standing.
The siren coughed, lungs on fire from a lack of an air supply. Surely, the afflictions would bruise... she'd be sure not to wear anything decollete until it healed. But as her resin hued eyes met his again through a narrowed gaze, she had to wonder if she'd get out of this alive.She fell, a squirming, gasping mass against his chest, all heaving breath and song effectively stolen from her lungs; forcibly usurped by the blows he’d placed. That one cry could have proven worrisome, but the prince effectively squelched the most of it before it could pierce the air beyond his chambers. Lorelei had fallen, and, in accordance with his next actions, would have no room to scream again. He’d grant her neither the time, nor ability to alert any who might pass his lodgings of her plight, or sing to any whose nosiness might lead their hearing to strain itself against his doorway. Musical notes slipped out between breaths, ever persistent in their quest to tease him. Terrible, irritating—infuriating little harlot…and yet, it was that part of her which he inevitably sought. The part of her he wanted most to see; her sin, her downfall. Her blackened heart.
Nathaniel wouldn’t kill her; that had never once been his goal here. Never to dispatch her, but to show her…and to, in part, be shown. The Siren, all of it…he wanted to see it; wanted to see her fall to it. Because there was no true interest to be garnered in what breaths of her she saw. The real game would only start, when both participants played it fully.
A dull growl unfurled from his chest, eyes flashing when his hands encompassed her wrists, wrenching her body back, her steps back, until the base of his bed met her spine…and his weight sent her sprawling. Then both hands curled, snake-like and found her throat, squeezing. Nathaniel’s grip tightened enough to frighten her…to kill any substantial volume which might try to desert her throat. The tactic would work; by all means had to work, as the tension woven between them had always been effective in producing her darker side before. Yet there were other ways, he knew, to go about this; ways which intuition told him might be more dangerous. So the Envian lent himself first to what was comfortable, constricting her beloved vocal chords in his grasp, trying to produce the simpering woman’s ‘better’ nature. Golden tresses came loose from atop the prince’s scalp, spilling over his eyes, which were deadpan; determined. ”Your naivety won’t save you from your Sin, Lorelei.” His tone an icy ballad, Nathaniel applied yet more pressure (albeit still not enough to render speech impossible), scrutinizing her expression for any wanted changes. He sent her sprawling backwards, flight made in retreat had led her to fall on his bed, but it'd been a fruitless travail. Deft hands coiled around her throat, squeezing nearly hard enough to cease any movement in her vocal chords. She sputtered, nigh upon wheezing, when his fingers slipped just a bit, saying that she'd not be saved from her sin. “And what of yours?” The young maiden asked, her voice harder from the pressure it was under.
The princess shook her head in fear, as though she'd plead for freedom if given the chance, but it was the last that he'd see of Lorelei – too panic stricken to stop the darker side of her from erupting to the surface. Amber orbs wide, melted into something a bit more fiery, a bit more intent.
~It won't work you know. I can still speak to you here.~ The siren cooed within the depths of Nathaniel's skull, the tendrils of her voice still satin, caressing the deeper parts of his conscience. If he wanted to kill her to ever silence the magical aria, he'd need to do it soon. But the temptress somehow knew it wasn't what he wanted – this cat and mouse game they played always changing. ~Without the use of my tongue, I can still best you.~ It may have come as a shock to him, the invasion that she'd made with a pure, seductive intent. If she could turn the determination into something else, she'd win this confrontation.
She'd live.
Softly, the siren's song began to play deliciously in his head, singing to him a sweet promise that he'd never heard. Lorelei hadn't fallen yet; it wasn't the siren's goal to be lost in the tumultuous waves of loving – it was her goal to bring Nathaniel Wood to his knees.
The intensity of the moment shook loose hairs from his scalp again, the silken white tendrils falling like drapery about the prince’s eyes. The effect would do little to hide the intensity of his stare at her; to quell the icy tundra boring down at the woman’s face, as if looks alone might leave her frostbitten. Nathaniel kept his palm and fingers set in their position, the grip neither tightening nor loosening about her slender neck. He had allowed her room to speak, and again she utilized his kindness only enough to say something insipid; a question which tempted him to again steal breath from her, ”My sin?” The prince questioned slowly, his voice leaving him in an even tone, as if the scene and its chaos hadn’t yet caught up with him, ”I have no use for sin or virtue, Lorelei. They are, I think, beyond me. I cater only to what seems necessary; to what might put me forward. And that is no sin. It is nothing; a void.” Although that fact wavered in her presence… however diminutively, it faltered. Made him feel something akin to whatever might be his sin; Envy? Perhaps, although at times it seemed that wrath might better appeal to his nature.
Lorelei threatened that in him soon after, although admittedly it had been his intent to pull that part of her out. Yet still, the way her voice hit his mind left him nearly surprised; at least enough that his eyebrows perked against his forehead, and his sights dove again to scrutinize her. To see how that same face could suddenly look so very different when the Siren was in control. ”You may mistake my intentions, Milady…” Nathaniel opted to speak aloud, his voice a chilling coo, his face lowering so that she might feel his breath against her face. ”And you always underestimate me.” One could surely say the same of him with her, of course, but he let that thought drift off without much merit.
The melody in her was strong, and he felt it teasing at every crevice in his mind…coursing through every vein. Yes, he’d anticipated it, but that alone wouldn’t dull the feelings it left; those strange emotions which came, at a slow yet ceaseless crawl, to settle in his heart. That which he had at first been wary of, and which now he sought to study…although one thing was certain to him…
These feelings would make the man’s heart no less black.
Her song again rose, and fire enraptured Nathaniel’s gaze; his hands fidgeted, but still made no move to tighten. And for a moment, the heir merely gazed at her; at the new spirit in her eyes, with such a mysterious intensity that any normal person might be led to look away…but she wouldn’t, in this state; they both knew this. Although perhaps neither could properly gauge at the other’s intentions. She was trying to seduce him, to lead him down a path they’d not yet traveled…and it wouldn’t be the end of him, if they did. Somewhere in the vestibules of Nathaniel’s being, he knew it. That this next act, while risky, would likely not be what might eventually lead him to fall by the Siren’s hand…
…Though it might indeed open new, terrifying doors for them both.
’know thine enemy’ He thought with some abandon, seizing the moment suddenly; veering downwards and towards the princess so that, for the first time, their lips ensnared each others…the action racked with all the intensity and feeling, however diluted, that had been building between them for so long; With the pressure and heated movement of all of Nathaniel’s rage, his spirit, and his desire to truly start their little game.
To say he was immune to the sins and virtues that ruled their kingdoms caused her to quell a shiver that tried to start at the base of her spine. Nathaniel was dangerous – she'd known that before requesting this rendezvous. But never had she thought he'd be a beast with no leash... no faults or strengths that should have been bred within him. Did he feel nothing at all?
Perhaps not, when she was absent from his presence. But as much as the heir seemed to struggle to keep any sort of feelings at bay, flickers of it danced before Lorelei's eyes. However minute, however evanescent... the siren could see that she affected him. She was a form of failing to him, just as he assisted the darker part of the princess abandon her own impuissance.
In some ways, the pair was symbiotic... in others, destructive.
Goosebumps pocked her flesh when his breath blanketed her skin; the actual temperature much warmer than the chill in his tone. “Just as you do the same.” She whispered, the aria that of an enigma. It was a treacherous game they were playing, teasing each other... one that would do damage to both parties if they continued.
Lorelei had half-expected that the Envian heir would shirk away just before their lips touched, as he'd done in the library. But no such retreat came; perhaps he didn't know it was better that he not toy with this, that he not open up the sin's banquet upon himself.
If he didn't, he could surely be able to note it when her lips moved pliantly against his, a sweet taste forming between them, darker promises laced with every move. Lust coursed through her veins, the tension between them building as she fed it into him, the magic of a siren's kiss would be addictive, something that Nathaniel even in his muted emotions, would revel in.
Don't do this. The princess' softer side pleaded; knowing it was much too dangerous. Also knowing that the feeble attempt would fail.
Hunger built inside of her, the slanted demands of his kiss stirring something deeper within her, something that she gave him with a fervor he might have previously thought impossible for the meek siren. Her breath caught, eyes closed, eyelashes sweeping over her cheeks with a fluttering movement. “Nathaniel.” The song that escaped her was purely that of seduction, begging him to continue, despite her efforts in making a request that they quit while they were ahead.
The hands about her throat didn't matter any more – he needn't hold her there when his touch had awakened the very part of herself that she'd made such an effort to avoid. The part of her that teetered on losing control so very frequently, urging her to abandon her qualms and seek out the desires that her sin always promised. Lorelei kissed him once more before staring up into his eyes – the intensity still there, though he'd been correct – it was enough she wouldn't look away.
Any more than she knew he wouldn't pull away now. Not when their game had finally just began.
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Posted: Fri Jan 13, 2012 11:47 am
Rank: Youngest Prince
Kingdom: Wrath
Location: Alone~With Lorelei and N...athaniel █║▌│█│║▌║││█║▌│║║█║█║▌│█║▌│║║█║ The young prince stood at his window. A hallow, vacant stare peered out the large window over looking the grounds of Veritas' lands. Normally the young male would take in the beauty of it. He would listen to the sound of the crickets as they sang, see the stars beginning to shine in the sky and take in the beauty of the pinks, purples and dark blues of the skys. However Lucas was troubled tonight. His body was still taught with the tension of being so close to the female siren. His beast begging for release. It was always there, always lurking, prowling, looking for the perfect moment to break free from humanities grasp. For that single fragile, weak stone in his strong foundation and once it did it would break free. Already once did it escape and harmed one of the most precious things to him. His sister. Lucas could still feel her arms snugly around his waist as she tried to stop him from making a mistake.
The way he'd cut into her flesh with his talon like nails, spilling her blood with out a second thought. He attacked mercilessly, viciously. Allowing the beat with in him full rein, control over him. His wrath and fury the extra boost for the creature---that he kept locked away and barred with in the folds of his mind---to break free and have complete rule over his body. Lucas tore his gaze away from the night sky and raised his hands. Watching them shake before him, trembling violently. His nails already elongating slightly and a small hiss left his lips as he closed his eyes tightly trying to control the beast with in him.
The young son of Wrath folded his arms over his chest. Nails digging into tan flesh as he took several deep breaths. Yet his mind would not rest and continued to assault him. Flashes of flamen hair, amber eyes and lips decorating porcelain flush with a rosy blush. A figure that was to be desired by the gods. Her voice a symphony of pure and unadulterated lust. He was doomed from the moment he heard her weeping, doomed the moment his siren raised his head and took on the challenge that was the female siren. "Damn it." He snarled under his breath as burning pain tore into his biceps. The fire that licked from the wounds was not even enough to pull him from his torturous mind. Nothing it seemed would free him from the demands of the male siren. Begging him, beckoning him to relinquish his control so that it may claim what is rightfully his.
If only he'd stayed with his family then his mind, his nature wouldn't be screaming for him to do something about the Lust princess. Maybe a ride with his horse would clear his head? He thought as his gaze flickered toward the stables. Knowing all to well that when he rode his stallion that his mind was always clear, focused completely on the feel of the wind on his face and the pounding of his heart. He couldn't count the number of times he went for rides when he was at home to calm himself. It was one of the few things he enjoyed.
With that in mind the young prince gathered a thick cloak and gloves and tugged them on. Once he was properly dressed he turned to the door and pulled it open only to halt opening it fully as flamen locks passed by his door. His heart clenched in his chest as he held his breath. Lorelei. He thought as he slowly, silently pulled the door further open and peaked out. Watching as the young princess moved down the hall away from him. His chest swelled with a mix of raw, powerful emotions.
He released a heavy sigh and leaned back into his room. His lids falling to hid his eyes as he shook it. Trying to push aside the desire to run after her. "She's not headed toward the stables. You're going there." He reminded himself as he opened his eyes and gathered all of his resolve. The prince stepped out side of his room, forcing his gaze down the way he was going so that he would not be tempted to fallow the siren princess and he closed the door behind him. Silently the prince moved down the hall all the while a battle wagged with in him.
The beast, his ever dominant siren pleaded with him--nearly graveling for him to turn around and to follow her scent to where ever it was that she ventured. It whined, begged, demanding that he turn around and go after her. Yet the humanity, the side of him that still pained from the knowledge that she was betrothed and that she could never be his---pushed the beast down. It was a battle that the prince was slowly loosing for the moment he hit the stairs to descend them and exit the castle he found that he could not move. His limbs had turned to led and would not bend to his will. Lucas closed his eyes and an unpleasant rumbled hummed the back of his throat. "Fine. Damn it." He growled and turned around.
A string of profanities rolled off of his tongue in a menacing growl as he moved quickly down the hall. Letting for the moment his primal side guide his actions. Yet something awoke his humanity and the two combined as a scream broke the silence. It wasn't to far off and he couldn't help but recognize the melody, it tugged at his heart and brought forth a dangerous growl as his eyes narrowed. Yet he couldn't ignore the fear that rocked through him---with all the bodies that seemed to be falling out of the wood work---his chest felt tight and that fear pushed him forward. His back burned as the wings sliced through his skin, erupting from his back as he sprinted down the hall. Fearful of what he would find when he found the Lust Princess.
God let her be safe. He thought as he moved quickly.
Lucas halted his movements just outside of a door, a door leading to a room he'd never been before. Little did he know that it would bring forth a sight that would tare out his heart and bring forth a blind fury. A fury that lingered in the hearts of all who lived in Wrath. The voice from the other side uttered one word that made his heart thunder in his chest and echo in his ears. It felt as if his blood had been turned to ice, his body suddenly cold. Fear's icy claws digging tightly into Lucas as he swallowed hard and gathered all his strength and pushed open the door. With out a moments delay.
His breath left him in a rush, feeling as if he'd been struck hard in the center of his gut as his dark gaze caught a sight. The princess that he cared for, desired and wanted a future with was locked in a heated kiss with the vial Envy heir...Nathaniel Wood. His body was no longer his own as the two's lips parted and the siren with in him took over. The beast could only see red as he stepped into the room and fingers curled about the females arm. His grip rough his hard pools danced with malice as they were fixed on the male. Boring holes into him, his eyes like two dark dangers piercing into the other male. "Let go of her now." He growled with his wings flared, giving a small glimpse into his own dark and dangerous nature.
He never liked Nathaniel Wood, not for the moment he met him. Something so very dark and bone chilling about him. Lucas remembered their first encounter how he some how mimicked the power of his voice, along with his siblings and lured Lorelei away. Now here they were and he was trying to take her away, but this time he wouldn't. No for Lucas wasn't about to let him. Come hell or high water. His fingers inched toward the hilt of his sword. "Release her or I'll remove the limbs that bind her." He uttered, his voice a low growl. He meant it, each word. To hell with his kingdoms alliance, Lucas knew how to kill and make sure the body was never found. He was trained in combat and could easily sever bones and flesh with one foul swoop of his blade.
He doubted the Heir had such training and knew the effort that it took to drive a blade through flesh, muscle and bone. Even if he did he would have the chance to do it, not tonight. The darkeness that dwelled with in the young Wrathian prince was on the prowl in complete control. Everything about him screamed predator, yet not only that but a wounded one. He did not know what kind of opponent Nathaniel would turn out to be and at this moment he cared little. A low growl rumbled his throat as he kept his dark eyes upon the prince, his wings--despite their uselessness--were flared and further evidence to at least Lorelei that his humanity was not the one who held the reins of the beast. Yet this time it would not take a mere few soothing words to calm the angered male. He wouldn’t calm till the woman was free and they were out of the presence of the menace.
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Posted: Fri Jan 13, 2012 5:46 pm
Location - Grounds near the forest
|1110|
Heir of Humility |I am the son and heir.
Of nothing in particular.|
Ryan glanced at Lorelei in slight confusion as she breathed out a nay followed by it can't be. The normally sweet song that accompanied her voice to be replaced by heart wrenching sadness. He wanted nothing more than to wipe her tears away and sweep her sadness to the side. Not that he was really in a better state. His eyes reflecting the sadness she held in her own as the realization that she must have knew Dorian or Lucien causing him to mentally curse himself. He should have known that given the relationship between the kingdoms of Avarice and Lust that she might know the royals. A little more compassion should have been shown when he revealed the deaths. Just barely was he managing to remember what was right and proper however.
At Ryan's voiced desire to leave Lorelei did the unexpected and suddenly wrapped her arms around him. Eyes went slightly wide for a second as her warmth flooded into him. Slowly his eyes softened and he just managed to not wrap his own arms around her. He would not make the hug appear more intimate that it was and with luck it would just appear that a friend was attempting to comfort him. Ryan wouldn't have others speaking badly about her on account of him if he could help it. Her words entered his head and Ryan looked down. Was it just him or was she offering to go with him? Closing his eyes his lips formed a terse line as he kept his lips from accepting the silent offer. He couldn't. When her sweet words filled his head Ryan swallowed a lump in his throat.
'I can't take whom I want to accompany me milady as it would be inappropriate. I thank you for your concern however, I am more worried about you. Seeing you cry is not something I enjoy even a little.' It took him every ounce of willpower to not at the very least ask the siren princess to accompany him back to his room. He hoped that his confession of truth didn't clue her in to his deeper feelings, but his desire to hide his feelings in his current state was wearing thin. He dared not invite her to join him even with the Bard accompanying them. And if he couldn't be alone with Lorelei then he didn't really want to be with any of the other company that they were near. No it was best he go himself and maybe rest his weary eyes.
Then someone Ryan somehow recognized as Lorelei's older sister appeared. His eyes finding Micah's as he silently pleaded with her to not think anything of the embrace. With her sister's appearance Lorelei was quick to end the hug and apologize. Something Ryan found to be completely unneeded if not for everyone else present. Then the siren princess went on to confirm Ryan's suspicions of knowing the late Dorian. A sigh escaped him as the heir of humility slowly closed his eyes. "It's okay." After the short response he continued to her mentally. 'I am sorry for your loss milady. You are completely fine though as I needed a hug. The contact helped me to keep a grip on reality. You don't shame me by being my friend.' He dared not say that the contact he needed was from Lorelei out of the assembled group.
Corrine approached and offered a solution that Ryan wasn't keen on accepting. He just wanted to be alone. He felt shame for leaving his sister behind as he had and needed time to think over things. When Lorelei spoke yet again Ryan waited until she finished before shaking his head slowly. "I will be fine and honestly would prefer some alone time. My life is in no danger at this moment in time. So I think I will retire to my room and at the very least change. If anyone has need of me that is where I will be." Giving them all a wave he backed away eyes briefly falling one Lorelei before he turned around. "Thanks and goodbye." Right hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose he walked to the staircase before heading up it and towards his room.
| TIME SKIP |
The first thing that was done upon arrival at his room was a bath was taken and the clothes Ryan was in were disposed of. Then he laid down on his best and rested his eyes. Sleep came for, but maybe an hour at most before the nightmares came and roused him in a cold sweat. Going over to the water basin he lowered his hands into it and rinsed his face a couple of times. Rubbing his eyes Ryan looked outside before lying back down on his bed and staring at the ceiling above. A few silent prayers said for the souls of Lucien and Dorian. How long he laid there in silence he wasn't sure. When he finally looked outside it was dusk. Sitting up the heir wished he could scrub the images of the execution from his mind. Would they forever be burned into his mind? The thought was enough to make him uneasy.
Getting up to his feet he paced the room a few times before he walked over and attached the sword he usually saved for formal events to his side. Ryan still thought his life was in no danger, but after witnessing Dorian and Lucien's executions he was not going to make it easy to kill him. Then the heir walked to the door to his room and exited into the halls beyond. Footsteps echoing as he walked without purpose and upon walking down the staircase stopped briefly to look in at the state of the dining hall. It was clean. Whether Ryan really expected it to be still filthy or not he wasn't sure. That it was clean made it all seem like a bad dream. Turning away from the dining hall he headed for the front doors and pushed them open letting them close behind him.
Stepping foot on the grounds he let his feet carry him while his troubled mind set to work thinking things through even more. Mere hours ago he had been with Lucien and very much intoxicated. What he wouldn't give to turn back time so that the deaths had never happened. What he wouldn't give to be intoxicated right now. Still his mind was oddly clear as he looked up to his path. The forest loomed overhead, but Ryan stopped walking and took no more steps forward. What was he supposed to do?
(OOC: Oh look a post.)
|I am human and I need to be loved.
Just like everybody else does.|
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Posted: Fri Jan 13, 2012 7:57 pm
Location: Nathaniel's Room-- Oh, how adorable.
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ There is a certain freedom to be located in the abandonment of all trepidation, even for one of Nathaniel’s nature, and, deftly, he found this to be so in those first tantalizing moments wherein Lorelei’s mouth had latched itself so hungrily to his. That side to him which he’d done so well to avoid, spawned by her voice, fed still by her lingering presence, came briefly loose from the reigns which the prince had wrought upon it; unfettered now, and with all the appearance of being insatiable, whilst their two forms eagerly swam to fit themselves together. A fire built in the young lords’ eyes which seemed naught to have existed before, one that meshed well with the still icy hue laden in those wide, flitting pupils. Nathaniel’s thoughts, those few which remained departed from the rest of the scene, mirrored Lorelei’s in the realization that he needn’t hold her down by force any longer. The siren wouldn’t flee any sooner than the prince above her now; not until this dark waltz between them came to full fruition, thus sounding the start of a most dangerous game betwixt them. Persuaded, the prince’s hands moved elsewhere, long fingers lacing themselves around the frills which lined the siren’s bodice, making as if to untie it. Alas, he’d not get so far into the endeavor before a distant sound caught his notice…and whatever side he’d let loose upon the girl beneath him fell back, to be replaced again by the more sensible, unfeeling prince of Envy. For there he stood, much disheveled, and wearing the simpering sort of countenance one might expect to find on a mere child, who’s favored toy had been usurped; Lucas Masterson, the besotted prince of Wrath. And how besotted he was; not much the boy could do to hide that now, for if he’d possessed any sense before meeting Lorelei Gavini, her song had done quite well to extinguish what little he’d then held. Nathaniel donned an expression of vaguest surprise as the boy rushed forward to latch his hand about Lorelei’s arm, no doubt thinking his little display should spawn fear in the heir adjacent to him; But even the act which the Envian oft presented towards others wouldn’t portray such an emotion as trepidation, neither by the doubtful twitch of one’s lips, recoiling of form ,or aversion of sight. Envians did not fear their enemies. So, save the mild alarm he let pass into his features, and a sudden and rather mysterious show of concern for the scene before him, Nathaniel gave nothing to appease Lucas’ obvious need to be taken seriously. Producing that particular lie seemed beyond even Nathaniel’s great ability, it was so laughable. The heir’s posture had straightened entirely, his features composed in a way that made it difficult to believe that only moments ago he’d been locked in so passionate an embrace with another. Fury bubbled in the pit of his stomach at the interruption, but the prince did well to shelve it for a later time, to be doled out discreetly, and in a way satisfying to him. Lucas harbored neither the wit or the power to bring it out of the man who stood opposite him…albeit he did seem quite determined to try, however feebly. ”Prince Lucas…” No anger found its way into the man’s voice when it emerged; rather, the progression of words from Nathaniel’s lips seemed languid, tired…almost disappointed, as though he were kindly trying to scold a small child, ”You would do well not to burst into my own personal chambers, making such outlandish threats.” A hand found the man’s temple, feigning the stress which this scenario caused him, ”While I am fully aware that what you’ve just witnessed hasn’t pleased you, it is hardly a reason to sully the bonds our forefathers have managed to build betwixt our kingdoms.” Sadly, the heir shook his head, as though worried about how Lucas’ stupidity might affect the alliances between Envy and Wrath. Truth be told, he had expected more from the prince; had the damage sustained on so many battlefields caused him to forget the mechanics behind diplomacy entirely? Softened his head a bit? Perhaps…and yet it seemed equally plausible to Nathaniel that he’d never understood the subject at all, even before his family had sent him to exercise the only talents he held on the battlefield. ”Wars have been started over far less than a mere threat, my friend. But worry not,” And now, Nathaniel lifted his head to meet the other man’s gaze fully, a fabricated determination swimming in his eyes, ”I shall not speak a word of this if you consent to leave my presence this instant. This needn’t dissolve into a fight-“ Although a part of the man would have preferred it; no blame could be placed on him by the Wrathian kingdom if he were forced to kill the man in self-defense, ”No one has been harmed here, for what you witnessed, I assure you, was consensual. I’m sure the lady would attest to this.” Nathaniel didn’t bother with actually looking at Lorelei now, or even with placing a well worded threat inside her mind; there didn’t seem any need for it, given knowledge that a side of her was just as eager to continue their act as he himself had been. ”I will add, though, that I do not care for the way you’ve grasped the lady’s arm, Prince Lucas.” His eyes became hardened as they slipped downward to find to Lucas’ hand upon Lorelei’s wrist, the concern held within them not at all mirroring the apathy Nathaniel truly felt. This seemed like just another way to bother the nettlesome prince, and given Nathaniel’s current mood, he’d revel in that. ”I will ask that you leave my chambers, and I shall permit the lady to do so with you if that is her want—but I shant let you take her forcibly, nor would I consent to her leaving my presence if you show any further signs of succumbing to your sin.”Little could be said to counter the Heir’s statements, given how carefully he’d worded them, how concrete the ideas behind them. If Lucas wanted to continue with his princely tantrums, the Envian silently dubbed him more than welcome…knowing well that the poor invalid hadn’t wit enough to truly argue well against him. Nathaniel had, after all, thwarted far better men than the likes of little Lucas Masterson. The fight betwixt the two of them, whether it be physical, or one of wit, would hardly be fair to the simpering siren prince. So he let himself be stagnant before the man, even presenting a certain air of complacency, as quietly he awaited a response from the others. The only evidence that he remained truly affected by his prior encounter with Lorelei lay in the way his breath shook, just slightly, when he looked askance at her. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter -- bitter,"he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."
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Posted: Mon Jan 16, 2012 12:51 am
Ɉϕɧɳ Ӎiҫɧɑϵɭ Gɍϵϵɳϵ Kingdom: Fortitude Rank: Prince Location: His room with Tao, and then grounds near the forest with I believe the Heir of Humility(Ryan), Is it right for me to intrude like this? White walls surround us
As we sleep among the dead ((Permission from Lies to place Tao in John’s room.)) He sat there, his finger lightly tapping against his chin. The silver blues hues were looking over the painting he had been working on for the last bit. It was the same painting John had worked on briefly when Tao and him had first come into his room earlier today. However, now John was trying to figure out if there was anything left for his paintbrush to create on the canvas. By the looks of it, the angel would only be ruining the painting if he tried to change anything about it. At least, in his mind he would be ruining it. Thus, his other hand placed the paintbrush down and looked towards the window in his room. His eyes blinked at how late it had become while he was working on his painting. Then again, John couldn’t help but notice the still sleeping Tao on his bed. The poor thief must have been really tired.
Once John realized he was not going to get an answer, he allowed himself to move away from the presence. He still wondered if the person had been his sister, Alex. But, there wasn’t anything he could do. He couldn’t just stand around and wait for a response with Tao in the shape he had been in. Then again, the angel couldn’t help but find it strange that the person had not responded at all. Did the person somehow ignore him? That was surprising considering most could not brush off a mental intrusion like that. Whatever the case though, John had to let go of his curiosity for Tao’s sake. Maybe another time John would be able to figure it out. That way, the questions as to if that familiar presence was his sister or not wouldn’t keep burning at the back of his mind. Luckily though, his attention was able to keep itself on Tao for the majority of the time.
Sure, his mind had wondered a few times. But, for the most part, John was able to keep his focus on the thief. Though, it was hard not to listen to Tao. After all, the thief did have some crazy stories. Also, John had to keep figuring out the second meanings to some of his statements. Unfortunately, his naïve mind when it came to such naughty matters made it impossible for him to figure out all of them. When John did learn the second meanings of the statements, whether through Tao or by his own mind’s thinking, his cheeks would turn immediately red and he would playfully chide Tao. The playfulness was only there because John knew there was nothing wrong with saying such things. However, John knew that the royals would wonder if he had gone crazy if he picked up Tao’s innuendoes and started using them against people. Thus, the prince would allow Tao to be the king of such language.
After they had eaten their share of dinner, John started to hear chatter outside his door. With a quick pick outside of his room, the prince learned from the gossiping maids about the death of Princess Rosalie of Envy. A suicide he heard. Such a sad unfortunate loss for the Wood family. When he had shut the door and told Tao however, John almost frowned at Tao’s somewhat jest of the situation. However, maybe that was just Tao coping with the fact there was a lot of death today. Either way, it made John uneasy about this place.
It was true the suicide would not be helped at all. But, all the other deaths before Dorian’s and Lucien’s only made this place seem even less safe than the war front! There was the Alexander and Asuna Bellerose. Now there was Dorian and Lucien! That made four deaths, well five when he included Rosalie, of important people within the past couple of days! While death was common in battle, it was not common for this type of setting and that was the most unnerving part.
Nether the less, there wasn’t much John could do other than hope that his family would not get struck down by any unfortunate deaths. Though, it only made John want to discuss with Haven the deaths and how to protect themselves even more. But, John had a feeling his brother did not want to be disturbed. For that reason, John never excused himself from the room. Instead, once Tao had fallen asleep on the bed, John had taken the liberty of taking a bath. Probably not the smartest idea considering Tao could be faking sleep. However, it wasn’t like he was doing it right in front of him. Thus, once John was finished with that, he slipped on some simple clothing and went back to his painting. That was how he were where he was now, his eyes still trained on the window.
The angel could feel his wings stirring inside his back, begging to be released. He did not think it would hurt to fly around the castle some. It was not like it was during the day now. After all, the sky was full of the dark purples and dark blues that made up the dusk sky. But, what happens if someone comes into his room while he is gone? The angel did not want to explain to his parents why the person that had gotten thrown into the dungeon was suddenly in his room. Awkward much? For this reason, John stood up and moved towards the door. His hand gripped the knob and turned it slowly, peaking out of his room and seeing a servant nearby. “Would you let anyone that wishes to see me know that I wish not to be disturbed?” When the servant told him yes, John smiled warmly at her, even if he was sure she was unnerved by his voice in her head. “Thank you kindly.”
After taking care of that, John shut the door and locked it from the inside. That way, Tao could get out but no one could come in. Hopefully. Then, the angel moved towards Tao, bending over slightly as if to whisper in his ear. “I’m going out to fly for a bit. Sleep well friend.” John made sure his voice was low, like a whisper in the wind. He didn’t want to cause the thief to wake up like he did earlier again. John did not wait for a reply though as he found his two rapiers lying around. The deaths made him not want to go without his two swords. Once he put them on his waist, he put the pouch with his throwing knives on his belt. That should keep me well protected, as well as that spell Haven still put on me. If it is still in effect that is. With one glance over the room, John moved towards the window and jumped out.
His wings shot out of his back instantly, slowing down his fall as they flapped violently. Once his body was stilled, the wings were calmer, moving only to keep him where he was in the air. The angel knew he should not go far from the castle. Thus, John only planned on flying around the perimeter of it, giving his wings enough time to spread themselves out and do what they were meant to do. Fly. Now should I go left or right? Flying right would take me towards the entrance of the castle, while flying left would take me towards the back. Hmmm. His silver blues looked towards his right as he thought this. His mind soon settled on going to the right, and thus he started to fly around the castle.
The breeze against his skin was refreshing as he allowed himself to spread out his arms. The light breeze did not cause him to have to flap his wings against the wind, or cause him to almost lose his shirt. That had been one funny moment when that almost happened to him. But, that story was for another time. As John neared the entrance though, John couldn’t help but notice the sound of the front doors closing. Eyes blinked as he flew closer. As he did so, the angel took note that someone was moving away from the castle. Was it someone he knew, or someone he hated? Due to the time of day, John could not tell from this distance. However, when John tried to re-established a previous connection, there was none to be re-established. Thus, whoever it was had to be someone he hadn’t talked to before now. Unfortunately, curiosity took over him and made him fly closer.
Now that he found himself some feet away from the figure. Enough to tell the figure was a male(Ryan) and wearing a sword at his side. Maybe as a precaution due to the recent deaths? Not that John could blame the person as he slowly allowed himself to fall towards the ground. His feet landed in a somewhat soft manner. But, it would still likely be loud enough to alert the male to his presence. Though, as John’s wings went back into his back, John could faintly tell something was off about the male’s(Ryan’s) expression. He seemed…troubled. Also, the male seemed vaguely familiar. Was he perhaps the Heir of Humility? It almost made the angel think he should just leave the male(Ryan) alone. However, maybe it was just his nature not to leave someone in an obvious distressed mood. Thus, as long as the male(Ryan) did not tell him to leave, John planned to give him some company.
“I am sorry to disturb you.” His voice allowed itself to enter the male’s(Ryan’s) mind as he moved closer to him. “But, I could not help but notice you seemed troubled. I can only assume that it is because of the recent deaths?” John did not think he needed to go into specifics. If that was what was distressing the male(Ryan) before him, surely the male(Ryan) would know who had died today. “If you wish, I can offer you some company until you are able to feel less troubled about whatever is bothering you. It is the least I can do.” Admittedly, there wasn’t much else John could do. He was only good at consoling up to a certain point. After that, he might as well have been bad at it. For that reason, John made no moves to say anything more or make any more movements until he heard what the male(Ryan) had to say to his inquiry. That way, John wouldn’t make thing even worse by accident. We can chase the dark together
As the sky returns to grey
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