[Irn League] The Zen Of War

[Philomel]

"Madison," Philomel regarded her with a steady, unchanging grace, "Why are you so angry? I am sorry for what you have been through, but we have not seen each other since ... well since you, for it was really you, I know, declared war on me and my own. No matter what the claimed intention of that, it should be me angry with you!"

She almost laughed, the corners of her mouth twitching ever so slightly and a sigh of exasperation rushing through her lips. Raising her spare hand up to her hair she brushed back a loose lock back over her shoulder, shaking her head.

"Mighty, how you have changed. How I have changed. You would be surprised to know exactly what has occurred in my life in the past year or so."

Watching Madison had been like watching the unravelling of a horrible, gruesome central scene in a horror play. As all the pieces came together, all the shards of the story fixing themselves into place to reveal the bigger whole. Bit by bit the details were revealed, bit by bit Madison had explained her life over the recent months and year, muttering of the 'Red girl' - obviously Amari - Lichensith Ulroke's rise back to power, the details with Pode, the Forgotten One who Madison had helped to destroy ... in a way. The body language of the briarheart had shifted in context - her face being mostly obscured by that thin mythril mask - communicating the hurt, the joy, the revelations as she slid her characters across the stage and had them set into their places for the final act. Hyperion, Ulroke, Madison herself, all kings and queens, heroes and villains, and all the many other lives they had touched, including Philomel's ...

When Madison offered no alternative but her ferocity, Philomel sighed and took a slow step back, her hoof dragging over the smooth stones so they rattled together like the sound of knuckle bones in a game of chance. Behind her back she closed the palmed hand, forming it into a fist. At the same time the blades of grass near Mao began to shake, their bodies riled up as they were filled with the intention and will of Drys through the faun.

Briefly, her eyes looked over the garden again, calculating the distance between herself and the stone (roughly ten feet), the length of each sandy square (about a foot and a half), and the height of the wall (about fifteen feet). Through the earth Philomel could feel the temporal presence of a world beyond the wall, but one that had not had much detail given to it. One that the Ai'brone monks had shoved some elements into, such as a bird, haphazardly created and then decided to not care as much for as this central arena. From that, Philomel knew that the focus of the fight was to be in here, and were they to break through the wall then it was highly likely more elements other than the natural would come into play.

With that thought she faced back to her old friend, and rolled back her shoulders. By the rabbit the grass waited, now learned, now excited for the possibility to serve a goddess. Behind the doors leading to the teahouse Veridian and Delath were poised, waiting for her call, should she so desire it.

But for now, she would fight alone, she had decided, and subject revenge for her fallen Gilded Lily girls whom Madison had, when she was head of the Crimson Hand, declared war on and thus deemed to suffer. No matter the intention of the war.

Their number was few, admittedly, but still this was Philomel's chance.

"As Matriarch of the Gilded Lily," Philomel spoke with a voice of soft intensity, "I am honour-bound and duty-bound to exact justice for the pain that you put my Lilies through. As your friend, and once ally, I am loathe to even lay a hand on you, but such is the will of the Citadel, that I will fight you. You ask me what my problem is, Madison, but it is nothing more than wanting to raise my skill, my power, prove yet again my worth as a warrior and Matriarch."

Then she smiled. "And to serve my goddess."

Steadily she drew her white blade, Nameless, with a light ring and held it out to her side, but not upraised.

"You want to fight, then lets fight. But I will have you know I have always been your friend and always will be, despite what disagreements we have had, despite what you did to my people. Despite ..."

Ready she stood, but determined not to strike first. Yet, able with her reflexes.

"Know, though, that I do not hate you."