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 Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 8:06 am
Eliya ~  To the female Altmer's disappointment, the newcomer didn't catch on to her sarcasm. So he was a serious sort then, taking things at face value. Unfortunate, thought he did seem to think quite highly of himself. He talked as if he hadn't just returned from, what had he said? Elsweyr? Elsweyr. What indeed had he been doing in that land of cats. Naught did it matter. He talked as if he had been at the Sanctuary for some time, so Eliya had to assume that he had certain connections that had caused him to be a part of the Sanctuary once before. And now he had obviously returned. The Elven woman's green eyes glinted in the torchlight as he answered a question she hadn't even asked.
Zephyr, as he called himself, didn't wait for an answer to his query's so Eliya assumed the question had to have been rhetorical. But why even ask it indeed, except to rub his title in her face and mock her for not having one. With a sudden resolve, Eliya decided that one day others would know her by the title, 'Death's Mistress'. It had a nice flow to it for being something that had sprung up quickly in a moment of audacity. 'Death's Mistress'....She rolled the title around in her head again, feeling it out. It fit perfectly. Once she advanced further up in rank she'd start having people call her that.
Dimly the redheaded woman realized the mysterious man was still talking. Had he just called her sword artificial? Eliya's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew nothing of her skill with magic or blade. Granted certain assumptions could be made based on the short sword hanging at her waist. However, normally where her twin silver daggers lay, and where her many mini poisoned blades of death did hide, there did lay nothing. She had just refreshed from the return of her assignment. She had simply taken the short sword as part of her personal attire, like a necklace. And now she was being challenged by this newest addition to the Dark Brotherhood. "Artificial my..."
Like a cat, Eliya's eyes watched the man move back and forth, striking the dummy in specific places, explaining and speaking in terms Eliya was somewhat familiar with. His knowledge of the human anatomy was fairly impressive, as was the velocity and faultlessness of his strikes. His unabashed appreciation of violence however, was less intriguing to Eliya as it might have been outside the walls of their Sanctuary. Despite this, her raptor gaze made note of the places he struck and filed the information away in the recesses of her brain for later experimentation....
Eliya ignored the pseudo apology. After his little show it was more then apparent he was testing her, and his next words confirmed her impression. Despite the fact that she lacked her silver daggers or even one of her numerous throwing knives, she did have the short sword at her disposal. Without leaving his gaze, her right hand whipped her blade out from its sheath and through the air. It thudded dead center into the chest of the dummy across from her. There was a reason Eliya was an expert with blades. She had skill. Without saying anything, the mage assassin turned away from the male Altmer and glided towards the dummy. With a sharp tug she pulled her blade out. Instead of re-sheathing it, however, she turned back to Zephyr and swiftly closed the distance between them. Standing across from him, Eliya let a single finger trail down the blade. "For something so artificial, I assure you, it can do the job quite well." The unspoken threat was accompanied by a sinister smile. Abruptly she resheathed the weapon and turned away. "As pleasant as this has been, I have someone to check on." The dry words rolled off Eliya's tongue effortlessly as she passed the mage back into the hallway.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 10:00 am
 Zephyr Sil'vraki
Soul Reaver Zephyr watched with a smirk as Eliya threw her blade, retrieved it then walked past him, saying her farewells. He leaned aganst the wall and chuckled a bit, "If we're going to be working together you could atleast TRY acting as though you liked me,and I don't mean in terms of love." He cracked his knuckles, "Before you leave, destruction mage... sorry... Death's Mistress, I can tell by your facial expression you are less then pleased with my pressence, you probably think I look too hghly upon myself, I'd be lying if I said you were wrong. Though I look highlly upon myself, I assure you it's not by much, I'd be nothing if it weren't for my family."He looked to the strike in the dummy and smirked a little, "Sometimes I wish they had living dummes." He pulled a small gem out of hs pocket and shined it, making sure it had nothing on it. He lifted it up higher to shine some light on it. Once he was sure there was nothing on it, he brought it closer to hs head. His hand slipped under his hood,once it was in sight again the gem was gone. He walked over to her, "I assume you have to check on Ilumus, he'll be fine. He's been through and seen through worse." He then laughs a little, "With what I did to him, he actually enjoys pain. I did not torture him if that's what you're thinking, I helped him." He holds a hand out, "I would like to know more about yourself, I'm sure you have many fascinating tales." He opened the door for her and waited for her to pass through.
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2012 11:35 am
☼ ☼ ☼ There is much worse to come. Trial and sacrifice, this chapter begins with pain.
The racket was... Unseemly. What a violent and uncouth reaction had come from this broken youth, that it resounded off of these walls, yelling, bow-twang, plunge of the knife and all. Liberal self-affliction was not against the tenants, but was as will-less as a sprig of oak wallowing in the pall of a weed. That hand which blade had entered was now wrapped in layers of shameful bandages. The face of the purifier, now his own again, almost betrayed an emotion. A sneer, or something like it, as he watched the murderer crumble against the wall. He just watched now, target lowered at his side, bright eyes narrowed in the darkness, watching the twitching of a cornered wolf's spine. If he scented a threat, he did not reveal it, things were silent again as the echoes departed.
The silence, however, was changed. It was not peaceful, the air seemed scarce and was tinged with a minute vibration. The illusion had passed, but something archane was still encroaching.
Quite spontaneously, the pale man began to walk down the hall in the direction of his office, as if the young man, crumpled there bleeding, was no matter to him. He didn't look at him, didn't pay heed to the danger as he came closer with every step. His robes Rolled over his slender body, and his vascular left hand gently gripped the pallete. The essence of dismissal was all about him.
Then followed, with great singularity, several brutal rapports of sound.
First, a sound like a clatter of bones upon the ground by the study door, and then another. The second was nearer than the first. Something was there, skirting the shadows, watching. Just what it was the young murderer, strain as he might, could not arrange his perspective to see it. An abominable will desired to go unseen. A noise, sickly, dry, and frantic, echoed from that place, and ordered with that same corrupted will- almost a voice - almost a word.
"Cure"
A snap, a rattle, like the snapping of sticks, and a withered grey hand reached, pointing at Ilumus from the darkness.
The young man nodded, turned on his heel- and with a cold a calculating look, aimed the flat of panel and swung it down with brutal force at the murderer's downturned head.
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Posted: Wed Mar 28, 2012 11:30 am
Eliya ~ As Eliya was about to exit the training room, she paused when she heard an unnerving laugh. Turning her head to look over her shoulder she saw that the sound of mirth had indeed come from the shadowed folds of the man who called himself, 'Soul Reaver'. The female assassin's long legs stalked towards the man coming to rest four feet before him. "Try acting?" She looked him up and down rather suggestively. "I think your'e fabulous." Her jade eyes stared unflinchingly, daring him to contradict her. He didn't.
As he continued to speak, Eliya felt her temperature rise as he derisively called her 'Death's Mistress.' How dare he! How dare he use the name many would come to fear so terribly, so scornfully! Eliya forced herself to continue breathing, taking in deep long breaths to calm herself. All the while the newcomer kept talking. When he finally paused, the redheaded assassin had nothing to say. So she remained silent. It wasn't long before he spoke again, and at this point Eliya decided she'd had enough and moved for the doorway. She stopped however, at the mention of Illumus. She didn't turn around, but wondered at his knowledge. So he knew the tragic boy already. They had a past. Interesting. A questionable past.
The mage-assassin ignored the outstretched hand. His sudden interest in her was bothersome and questionable indeed. "Tragically, no I do not." There was a stiffness, a disinterested nuance in her words, as if they held nothing but the letters that formed them into words. She withdrew, past him, and did not wait. Her long elven strides quickly took in her in the direction she thought Illumus to be. The hall grew darker, and a slight dampness took to the stones that lined the corridor. Eerily Eliya realized she had never before been in this section of the Sanctuary. She wondered if it had possibly been closed off before, or hidden with magic. Light flickered forming shadows on the wall as it escaped from a partly open doorway. This must be the medic's quarters. The Purifier.
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Posted: Wed Mar 28, 2012 9:14 pm
 Ilumus had tumbled away from the purifier and grabbed his bow, his urge to kill the man was strong. He stood up then ran away from the other Breton, repeating the words "Must not kill" as he ran. He ran straight to the sleeping quarters, to his bed. He slipped underneath and tried to remain hidden to calm himself down. He grabbed hold of two rings on a necklace, held them tightly and eyes closed. Memories had swarmed his head, all of which involved his brother. He saw his brother's hateful face in his mind. No matter how hard he had tried it wouldn't leave, the thoughts and memories forced themselves to the surface. Everything he tried so hard to forget, everything he tried so hard to hide crashed down on his mind like a tidal wave. The memories had bombarded his mind until then everything had suddenly and inexplicably became calm within himself. His grip on the rings loosened, his eyes opened. He took a moment to listen to the silence around him, then smiled. He rolled the rings around in his hand, 'Could it be that this was his intentions?' He felt reawakened, no longer held by chains of the past. He closed his eyes and rested his body, enjoying the silence and the newly found peace. Zephyr Sil'vraki
Soul Reaver After Eliya left, Zephyr's smirk faded and hs face went blank, "Seems I stll haven'tgrasped false happiness as well as I thought, or the standards differ greatly from that of those in Elsweyr." He had taken some time to carefully study the marks left behnd by her training to find out as much as he could. After he had finished, he left the traning room in time to see the young Breton run into the sleeping quarters. He then walked down the hall and noticed a corridor he was unfamiliar with. He walked on, travelling into this new path andonce agan found Eliya. Though he wanted to leave her alone, he moved up behnd her making no attempts to conceal hmself, "If you're still looking for Ilumus, he'll be under his bed, most likely holding on to his dead parent's marital rings." Then with out another word, he continued to travel the new area of the brotherhood.
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Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2012 11:19 pm
☼ ☼ ☼ And so he stood, thin, arm limp, in the passage where vacancy had entered. Ears craving silence, and the rhythm of his body. His stoic face betrayed a look of weakness as the startled flight of the young murderer faded into the abyss beyond the purifier's deep and searching vision. Poised in the darkness there, he seemed rapt in contemplation. The spirits who would witness him could start to detect the fragility of his youth, the longing in his eyes, the minute tremble in his wrist which bent like a cog around the handle of the rustic target. If they looked closer, invested their hearts in his predicament and stood in his place, they would feel the hard stone under foot, taste the sour loam in the air.
Reaching deeper they would scent the odor of blood which assaulted his nostrils, sprinkled upon the walls by the young man's self-mutilation, like some careless decoration, and wonder at the image of a dark rough hand which had formed there- the black hand of Sithis on the wall amidst an ocean of dust and crumbled stone. The murderer had leaned upon that stone and with mindless art had scattered an enigma of relief upon the wall of the corridor. The spirits would stay in this place, wonder at the futility of the living, and grow near to this silent and unassuming young man. But they are not attentive. When the bitter breath at the nape of his neck bites their cheek, they will flee. The spirits are the companions that follow you in the dark, who you will never know. They are curious about you, and seek with their hands into the corridors of your heart. Sometimes encouraging, sometimes a muse, sometimes honest- always flighty. Upon that breath, they stranded Fynn in the dark.
Alone with a terror which it was his lot to accept, he composed his face and turned to his master- who looming like an extension of the very shadows bent over him. Arms like charred leather stretched over hollow bones joined bony hands, which clasping either side of an still porcelain mask clutched the eye-holes and the corners of pursed lips. The travesty of a smile loomed before him, the suffering breath of the ancient creature beating through those hollow eyes rattling the fringes of his hood. The figure nodded forward, the delicate porcelain nose of its mask almost tapping the young man's forehead. He stood perfectly still, waiting, he went without breath. His eyes searched the mask, the minute scratches from years of nails which clawed in contemplation, knowing ages of frustrated wandering in the dark as the days of a wicked life trickled from the bowl of a broken hourglass.
The grotesque thing hovered for a moment, dropping those long leathery arms straight down and turning it's emotionless guise from side to side, the outlines of a lank hood over an unnaturally long neck dipped in and out of the darker shadows which followed this thing like clouds of mist.
Quite suddenly it paused, it's hollow eye sockets fixed upon the distant crossing way down the passage, from which came the distant reverberations of a voice. The young man turned to follow those eyes, and they struck an ominous figure in the dark. This boyish youth with cold eyes- and his master, like a hateful second head, leaning diagonally over his shoulder. the dim light shedding from the slender threshold of the study behind them gave them a dim and monstrous outline.
It was only a strong will, whose eyes were true to them, and who was swift at the mark, that would even glance the figure of Kris-Airo-Croa as he faded with undulating grace into the shadows on either side of the door.
So it was that Eliya, turning the corner in eye-shot, would glimpse that dead mask staring at her as it vanished from sight, and Zephyr with his thorough glancing eye would see a withered black fist as it shook, and then was gone.
But the Purifier was still standing there, his long sleeves dangling on either side, looking at the woman. His mask-like face, less visible with the dim light at his back, was twitching with a strange sort of emotion that was difficult to make out. His eyes were clearest, and more distinct in their merithic heritage than any human could cleave to- but Eliya would sense the mingled gratitude and fear which blazed in them.
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Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2012 10:20 am
Eliya ~ To Eliya's surprise, the open door did not give entrance to a room. Rather, the torchlight that flickered against the stone archway illuminated another corridor. Perplexed and wondering what other secret areas were hidden within the Dark Sanctuary, Eliya turned quickly at the sound of foot steps. It was Zephyr once more. Couldn't this elf get a clue? She was not interested in conversing with him further at this time. The redheaded woman watched him approach, her arms crossed, as she mentally went through a list of surly replies to anything he might have to say. When he did speak, his words were unexpected and caused Eliya to hold her tongue. There seemed to be an edge of contempt to his words, mingled with mockery. As if he found the Breton's troubled psyche something to be amused by, or deride to others. He was quickly moving again, he had barely paused as he passed Eliya, and she was once again left to her thoughts. If what he said was true then there was little reason for her to continue forward in search of Illumus. Yet all the same, if what he'd said was true, how had he known? Either way it was probably a good as time as any for Eliya to meet this newest addition to the Sanctuary.
Shoulders set back, head held high, the Altmer walked with long strides down the unfamiliar corridor. It went straight for a ways and then turned sharply. The elven assassin turned the corner and her stride hesitated for the briefest of moments as her sharp gaze took in the man ahead, and the strange masked figure that slithered into the shadows, disappearing completely. Her gait continued but there was unsettling feeling in her stomach that didn't disappear with the obscured figure. Who or what had that been? She stopped a few feet away from whom she assumed was The Purifier. His face was mostly covered, but his eyes were clear and what Eliya read in them only caused the pit in her stomach to tighten further. Despite the disquiet she felt within, her voice was strong when she spoke, reflecting nothing but calm confidence. She didn't know exactly what she'd just seen, so she decided not to mention it. "You are The Purifier." It was a statement more so then a question. "Illumus has been to see you?" Once again her words were more of a statement, yet the unanswered question mark could imperceptibly be noticed if one was paying close attention.
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Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2012 11:55 pm
☼ ☼ ☼ And so began a curt exchange in the dark between they who stood there. The figure of Eliya curved delicately, like a fair flower with buds shut against the drafts of the night, a sinuous predator. Her posture carried strength, clear to see for all eyes that could. Where for many this attitude seemed to compel the instinct to size her up, there was no hint that the young man ever took an effort. They would look at her body, measure her footing, squint at her directness. He did none of those things. His actions were simple, he hardly moved at all for the first few breaths of this encounter. Though his posture had straightened, and his expression had become as composed as a mask once more, there was a lingering shadow of something in his eyes. He did not recoil at her directness or show an inkling of reproach. He noted her inquiry with a nod.
A combination of his muffler slipping, and an increasing adaptation to the dim light on the part of the elf, made his face suddenly quite clear, the outlines much more distinct. His eyes, in effect, became even more sharp and distinct, and the piercing nature of their contact became what might have been disconcerting. He hardly seemed accustomed to blinking. There was something about this quirk in him alone, which more than the unnatural stillness and silence of this place seemed to slow time down to a standstill. Had this meeting taken place on a bustling crosswalk between the grey mare and the city gate, onlookers would pause, tug their sleeves, and the gate guards would tug the hilts of their swords. This was no crowded street, this was an artery in the dark, and the ventricle which compelled them to this meeting produced pariahs.
Thus he held her gaze ponderously long, betrayed no emotion, and broke that stare at last. Whatever he had been looking for in her eyes, he quit that search, and time resumed its course at what felt like an average pace once more. He looked at the wall once again as he had been doing before the shadow fell around him. By so doing, he directed the high elf's attention to the evidence that Ilumus had come to see him:
The smears in the dust where the young Breton's cowering body had bent against the wall, and the irregular sanguine hand-print which rested on the stone.
The significance of the sign of Sithis so clear beside them would be difficult to set aside.
Looking at those marks, he did a rare thing. Dry throated, He spoke. He obviously was not accustomed to.
"Self-inflicted. Bereaved. May heal. May not. Time will tell."
A final glance traveled behind where she stood to where the spent arrow lay upon the floor some twenty-five paces away.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 11:23 am
Eliya ~ A wave of impatience swallowed the elf as she waited for a reply. When she asked a question she generally expected an answer, and it did not please her when people made her wait. Yet this strange cloaked man took his time in speaking, his dark orbs staring unblinkingly into her eyes as if he seemed to be searching for something. Though it was likely only moments, those moments dragged on for Eliya and it was with only the strictest discipline that kept her silent, waiting for the shadowed man to speak. Where most individuals who gazed at Eliya for such a length of time were obviously sizing her up, she got the distinct impression that this man was doing anything but. There was no indication of lust either, no it was if he was looking deeper. His simple nod was casual, he apparently had no reason to be intimidated by her directness. And why should he? He'd only just arrived so he likely couldn't know much about her, though as she thought this, Eliya realized that just the same, she knew nothing about him. Her mind flickered to the mysterious thing that had shifted into the shadows moments before. Had it been something tangible, or an illusion brought on by magic?
The female Altmer's green eyed gaze did not waver as she stared into the seemingly unblinking eyes of the man before her. He shifted then, not having yet replied beyond that simple nod, and the cloth covering his face lowered, seemingly unintentionally, revealing more of his face. Even as she saw his face, her gaze never left his eyes. His unblinking eyes. The fact that he was human, (so he seemed) and didn't appear to blink was somewhat disconcerting, though Eliya did not allow this thought to break past the impassive mask she held firmly in place. Even so, time seemed to stop, no not quite stop, but it was if time itself had become lethargic. She wondered if he had used magic without her being aware. His unflinching gaze had begun to settle a strange feeling over her, as if he was casting some sort of magical web, slowing her movements. Granted she was completely still except for the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, and of course, the blinking of her eyes. The logical side of her mind told her she was being paranoid, that he was doing nothing but staring at her, yet the feeling that had crept over her had suddenly given her goosebumps.
When his gaze finally broke away, Eliya felt a surge of relief course through her elven veins, and she felt her body relax slightly from its rigid posture. His hand suddenly moved and she tensed, but saw that he was simply pointing at something. Without a word a single slender finger pointed to the opposite corridor wall. Frowning at what she saw there, she was briefly startled when he spoke. "Self-inflicted. Bereaved. May heal. May not. Time will tell." She knew of course who he was speaking of. The object of their conversation was none other then Illumus, and who else would it have been. She was not shocked by the nature of his words. Not that long ago Illumus had begged her to punish him for a mistake by cutting him. She had refused. Violence was one thing, but violence against oneself was sick and twisted. Eliya felt a slight surge of pity for the boy but kept her face composed.
It had been on their recent mission, long before Illumus had suffered his horrible injury to his eye. Several days before that, Eliya had led a small contingent of assassins to cut down the Fighter's Guild forces from Hammerfell. They had been expecting to join the Fighter's Guild forces from Cyrodiil and instead had been slaughtered unawares. Eliya and her dark brothers and sisters had taken up their attire and joined the Fighter's Guild forces at Fort Crowhaven under the guise of support. Internally Eliya smiled with satisfaction. They had never known and would likely never know that they had been used by the Dark Brotherhood. But it had been the evening after the slaughter, that Illumus had joined Eliya by the campfire, alone. Apparently he'd had the need to vent, and so he did. His had been nothing if not from a troubled and confused mind, but the redheaded assassin had refused to allow emotion to potentially complicate their mission and had called him out. He'd seen reason and realized he'd made a mistake by blowing up at her. He had then offered up his dagger and asked her to cut him. She'd declined.
So the uncomfortable words spoken by the man across from her did not shock her, nor surprise her in the least. Following his gaze, she saw the arrow on the floor. It would take time for Illumus to heal, and whether he would fully recover was questionable. At least he was not alone. He had the support of the Brotherhood. He had resources as such to recover as efficiently as possible. He would likely be held back from missions for a while as he recovered and learned to shoot again. Remembering the arrow sticking out of his eye caused bile to rise up in the back of her throat. Eliya nodded at the words that had been spoken, the words she had waited what seemed an infinite amount of time to hear. She turned her gaze back to the man. She wanted to order him to help Illumus, to help make him better then he was before. But it was not her place. And now that their mission was over, it was no longer her job to watch over the tragic boy. The Brotherhood would ensure he recovered as much as he could. Much of the recovery would have to do with Illumus himself.
Absently she realized she shouldn't have come to check on him. Feelings like these, caring about people, these were more dangerous then blades flying through the air at an unprotected target. These feelings had somehow snaked their way within and Eliya was displeased with herself to realize she had faltered in the defensive shield she so normally held so tightly around her. Lips pursed together, her face hardened slightly. She was done talking about Illumus. She should leave. But she had not yet introduced herself. Her gaze sought once more the dark orbs of the man across from her.
"I am Eliya."
He hadn't asked her name, and she didn't ask his. If he so desired, he could offer it up, and if he didn't, she would simply bow and take her leave, thus continuing to refer to him as, The Purifier.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 1:08 pm
☼ ☼ ☼ When her eyes sought his, they found that they waited there, severe and unblinking. Kaleidoscopic accents of red crept around the limits of each vast iris. Detail after detail of those eyes began to reveal themselves as this brief meeting hurtled to a close. Now, not so much penetrating as observing and acknowledging, they were lacking in expression but filled with torrents of active consideration, as if those eyes were the seat of his consciousness, and pale slender husk of a body was little more than that; A puppet in a robe. "I am Eliya." Her confident voice split the air again, and impromptu, it set off a very minor echo. It was something in the way she said it, whether it was the intonation, volume, or even the angle of her face, now slightly more upright and prominent, which caused her name to ring out twice. His eyes suddenly dilated, for what reason none could be entirely certain, though it was clearly visible to any who watched him with careful eyes.
Time was not stilted now, not hovering, not devoid of motion. His body was much less fixed in place, his robes alternating with his posture like sheets of silk. His lips split on the point of responding, he stopped- It seemed, though the evidence was very faint, that his chest rose and fell as he breathed in and out. Once again he seemed to be listening for something, but the event of his concentration was very short. On the very very limit of hearing, a vague rattling scratch stroked the stale air, and then was gone. His eyes flickered to his right, and he glanced behind into the shadows. In the space of a blink his eyes returned to hers. His face was indecipherable as he responded bluntly.
"You should go."
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 7:30 am
Eliya ~ Her introduction was met with more silence, yet the silence did not necessarily feel hostile. The man's eyes appeared to dilate abruptly as she finished speaking, the cause of which Eliya could not begin to imagine, but imagine the sudden change in his orbs she did not. Of this she was certain. The cloaked man seemed like he was about to speak, but then hesitated. Or was she imagining this? Her sensitive elven hearing then picked up a strange indistinctive sound, but just barely. She wouldn't have even noticed it if they hadn't been standing in complete silence, the only noise coming from their barely audible breathing. The other man appeared to hear it too.
He broke their gaze to glance into the shadows that lay behind him but that glance was brief before the dark depths of his eyes found her green gaze once more. Then he spoke. "You should go." His words somewhat surprised the female elf, but she got the sharp sense he had good reason. Glancing off into the darkness behind him briefly, she saw nothing, and bowed her head slightly, a single nod in compliance. He was hiding something, of this Eliya was sure. But whether she wanted to find out what was another matter. The redheaded assassin's interlude to the dark recesses of The Purifier's quarters had been more then a bit eerie and she found herself very much ready to return to the lighting and warmth of the inner rooms of the Sanctuary.
Without further word, the mage assassin promptly turned on heel and with long strides did what had been suggested of her. It wasn't long before she turned the corner and retraced her steps down the corridor that had brought her outside the medic's quarters. Her thoughts were on the brief conversation, if one could even call it that, that she'd had with the new healer. There were many strange characters that called this Sanctuary their home, but there was something very strange about the one she had just met. She didn't expect she would be visiting him again anytime soon. With a brief shudder, Eliya found herself at her quarters and lay down on her bed for a well deserved nap. Despite the exhaustion she felt from her recent mission, as well as the relief of finally being able to sleep in a bed, unlike many other times she did not fall asleep as soon as she lay down. No, it took quite some time for Eliya Lok'tah to fall into the waiting arms of sleep. And when she did, her dreams were strange indeed.....
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Posted: Tue Apr 24, 2012 8:06 pm
☼ ☼ ☼ A window of freedom.
This time, when vacancy entered that unwelcoming place and choked with darkness the avenue of escape before him, he closed his eyes before it and parted his lips in a silent sigh which sent tremors throughout his slender body. Tremors of relief, tremors of doubt and fear. His perception reached out like tendrils in the dark, at long last sensing absolutely nothing. He relished his brief reprieve, every iota of it. Soon the shadow would envelop him, the rattling, the scratching, the stench, the desperate hunger. There would be questions. Sharp prods. Clockwork. He composed his face into a lifeless mask, as a field soldier might buckle loose armor before an oncoming wave.
As he did so, his mind ran with thought. Sharp and evident before him came the memory of her face- her inquisitive eyes, her imperious expression. He considered her expression as she surveyed the scene of Archine's upheaval, the tender shifting of her brow, the rapid blinking, the mysterious signals of disbelief- but of what? Then there was that smell, bitter from between her teeth, when she had nodded and announced her name. It did not match her scent, which beside the subtle and bitter musk of death which followed all of the children of Sithis, was somewhat flowerlike. It had been the odor of absolute Disgust. As he pieced it all together during his last few moments he could be sure of freedom, Fynn began to comprehend Eliya Lok'tah.
Moments passed. Too many moments. His mind rocked which torrents of suspicion at the total absence of scratching and muttering. The visitors were gone, the study was empty, his master had to have realized, had to have noticed that the time had come again to preside over his student. Nothing.
Turning and walking back to his study, he dropped the paddle idly on a low shelf and scanned his desk. A cipher listing agents accounted by Valtieri which rested in twisted script beside the notes on his desk proclaimed an anagram: A likely oath. These words derived from her name came to his mind, wherefore a sinking sensation seized his gut. Snatching the candle he turned on his heel, robes swishing with fluid motion, he stared down the corridors behind his desk each in turn. First left, just a glance, and then right. Nothing. Ordinary shadow. He turned and seized the corner of his desk, listening with bated breath for some sound, the slightest sound, which might alert him to his master's whereabouts. He could hear the beating of his own heart, the minute swishing of the draft in those ancient corridors. Nothing... But no. Where could he have gone? How could he have missed him slipping by? What was he after?
Thinking fast, hand ensnared in his hair, deep hood dumped down around his shoulders, he searched the room with wild eyes, seizing in a short moment upon a queer item which rested on a high shelf. In haste he loped towards the shelf and took it down, veering as he gripped the thing in his hand and making for the door. He took to the hall at a dead sprint, snuffing the candle in his speed- plunging into complete and total darkness.
The first corridor was long and vacant, wearing on his nerves. The second was cold and longer still. Stumbling upon the steps which intervened between the second and final corridor to the sanctuary above, he cursed and dreaded what should happen if he should fail. It had been years and years since Croa had gone forth, why now? Lumbering around the corner, he caught himself on the stone of the wall to his right and saw, not eleven feet before him, the terrible creature who stood and bent like a tree in a wind. the thing, halted and suffering in the brazen light of a torch, raked the high ceiling with its waving hands and leaned back, smoky robes billowing as they pleased. It fought with it's violent and ailing will to send a wind against the fire and snuff it out.
The thing wined, a high pitched noise like a cry. It sputtered with sickly noise behind its mask, and gyrated in violent execration.
Bracing himself, Fynn lifted the object, the modest hilt of a broken sword, and let what remained of the blade catch the light. Heart beating rapidly, he forced himself not to breath lest it shake his resolve. The hilt began to shine with a diffused purple light, emanating from his hand and engulfing the terrible figure. Croa flailed and clenched his bony fists before crumpling to the ground, and tearing on all fours down into the darkness from whence he had stalked.
Dropping to his knees, Fynn watched as the blade began to dim. At last it was little more than a worthless cross of leather and steel glinting in the light of the torch. Heart beginning to slow, he took a moment to stare down the corridor. He could see the doors which lead to the vampires den, and thence up flights of stairs to the sanctuary. He was shook with a desperate instinctual desire to run through those doors, forsake that foul creature to starve in the dark. He knew better than anything else just how foolish that would be. Everything was a test, it had to be. He told himself over and over in his mind as he knelt there.
This time his suspicion told on him, this had been no test. It was the closest call, perhaps in all of the years this life had been his. He stood with legs quaking, his eyes still fixed upon the doors. He took two steps backward and turned, returning to the shadows which were his lot.
curtains.
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