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  1. #11
    Legend

    EXP: 59,606, Level: 10
    Level completed: 51%, EXP required for next Level: 5,394
    Level completed: 51%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,394


    Stare's Avatar

    GP
    150

    Name
    Avis Tsakaka
    Age
    16
    Race
    Kenku / Tengu
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone
    There was a moment of silence. Only unsteady breathing could be heard. Then-

    “Miss Stare, I will have to recommend to Lieutenant Zulon that I alone am not sufficient.”

    “Sufficient for what?” Stare asked him, still trying to control herself, dragging breaths in and out and still not able to trust herself. Or her eyes.

    “Sufficient to do what Sir Elssmith commanded. Keeping you safe.”

    “I can do that well myself, and Vitruvion knows that,” Stare grumbled, flexing her hand around the hilt of her dagger. But she dragged in a final lungful anyway and lifted her eyes to finally look at their companion.

    The young blonde shivered, eyes massive and staring, with her bound hands held against her small breasts. She let out a whimper, before small droplets began to fall from her eyes.

    “Th-thank you,” she mumbled through tears. “He - he did things to me …”

    “I haven't saved you from that,” Stare said firmly. “Whatever you have heard about me, I can't, no matter how much I want to.”

    Eirik gave her a sideways look which she ignored as the blonde girl took in her words. For a moment more she sniffed before she answered.

    “But they say you - that, that you …”

    “That I lived here for five months? Yes I did,” she grunted. “Now I work for Vitruvion in other ways. Apparently right now,” she didn't hide the disgust in her voice, “that means keeping this hellhole going for him.” She glanced over to Eirik, seeing him standing there, studying her. Her brow rose. “What?”

    “Nothing, Miss,” he said carefully, “but I would say you are not the best at making friends.”

    “You're welcome,” Stare replied, straightening as the guard arched an eyebrow but twisted away. He angled towards the door, where she knew more guards likely waited, and until recently however many had been skulking for Gravelle. Now Eirik was moving away too, leaving Stare alone to face back to the girl.

    Who was beginning to tear up again, still bound hands around her face.

    “So you will not help me escape?” she whimpered. “But I cannot stay here, I have my family, my fiancé, my-”

    Fiancé. At her age. That made Stare twitch with discomfort. “What's your name?” she asked quietly, eyes impatiently on the blonde.
    The girl looked slightly taken aback. “Well, it's Galina, but they all keep calling me 'Lament.’”

    Stare looked at Lament and breathed in slowly. She gave her a once over and a nod.
    “A pleasure to meet you, Lament. I am Stare, as I am sure everyone has told you.”

    Lament swallowed a little and quietly nodded her head, sniffing once. Stare felt her heart pound with empathy for this creature, but knew she could do very little when it came down to it. What would Vitruvion allow her do do? To what extent would be let her go?

    Eventually she sighed, the door closing behind Eirik symbolising peace for a moment. “I know it is difficult here, Lament,” she said firmly but quietly. “But I cannot help you aside from try to keep you safer. The best way to do that, while my own …” she paused to think about what to call the relationship between her and Vitruvion while the girl's huge eyes were resting on her. “Employer, because he does actually pay me. Master,” she let the word slip from the sides of her beak, “because he still is. While Vitruvion is away.”

    “Some of them call you 'traitor’,” Lament whispered, “That you have betrayed us all.”

    Stare breathed in slowly. “I had a choice. To stay as I was, with little purpose, being all but a project for him to work on my magic - or to be useful. To have a life. Someone that he trusts.”

    “And does he trust you?”

    The kenku glanced down to the cuff on her wrist, that bound her mind to his without her choice. She thought of how he had made her immortal so that he could keep hey forever by his side, and the way he was ordering his guards to keep by her side, to keep her safe. She thought of how she belonged to him now, body and soul, of how he had given her more responsibility than she could ever imagine. She thought of where he was now, and their joint fight against their brothers. She thought of how he held her when he slept, sharing a room like he had never done with anyone else. And she thought of now, how he had left her his empire, his world, with the knowledge that she would hold it as he wanted. She thought of how she would hold it for years of he needed, until darkness covered the world entirely.

    She found herself sighing, and meeting Lament with the same intense gaze. “He does, at least I believe he does. But you should also know that I trust him.”
    Crows: Old nursery rhyme "One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth, Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self."

  2. #12
    Legend

    EXP: 59,606, Level: 10
    Level completed: 51%, EXP required for next Level: 5,394
    Level completed: 51%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,394


    Stare's Avatar

    GP
    150

    Name
    Avis Tsakaka
    Age
    16
    Race
    Kenku / Tengu
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone
    “You trust a man who - who did things like that to you?” Her eyes were huge with disbelief.

    “I trust him now. You can take that back to your friends you have made. Now,” she pulled out her dagger and gestured at the girl's bound hands with the tip. “By doing this I am not taking responsibility for you should you choose to run at any point. I should note, I tried it once. I failed miserably.”

    Indeed, she had spent two long weeks in a cage. So many jokes had been made about birds in cages in that time it had become dull. Of yesterday. Old. Just why she was telling Lament all of this, Stare was uncertain, but if there was the small chance that she could make the girl's life easier then it was worth it.

    Lament sniffed a little, clearly disappointed in what she had hoped Stare could give her. Yet, she extended her wrists, holding them carefully out as the kenku bent forwards. A quick slice of her mythril dagger and the bonds fell to the floor, along with the rope they had attached to. Stare took a step back, huffing out a breath and keeping her eyes steady on Lament’s.

    “My advice is to make yourself indispensable to Gravelle. Make him want to come to you, please him. If you do that, then power will be next, freedoms and a better life. As good as it's going to get here anyway.” She shoved the knife back in her belt and looked over as the rattling of hinges signalled the opening of the door. Eirik stepped in, alongside a surprising figure at his side - a tall, elegant androgynous figure who seemed to be a olive-skinned elf.

    “Miss Stare, this is Jordain. They are here to assist in your guard.”

    Stare rolled her eyes slightly, noticing that Jordain was possibly the largest, most impressive being she had ever seen for some time - trust Zulon not to provide the mightiest soldier.

    “Fine,” she nodded at Jordain.

    The tall, strong elf grinned a little as Eirik smiled briefly before he began to head towards Lament. As he did the young woman suddenly spoke again.

    “Just tell me why. Why you do this, for him, after all you went through. All the pain, the suffering. Why? Why would you do that to yourself?”

    Stare turned, her eyes focusing on the blonde. In her mind she screamed, 'because he is my god,’ and 'because I have no other life.’ That or, 'he legitimately owns me,’ or 'what would you have done …’ But none of them fit. Not to the extent that would explain why to Lament.

    So she was silent for a moment, as she breathed in deep, the guards who obeyed her commands now, though within the frames of their ultimate master, pausing at her periphery. And she tightened a hand around her left wrist, where the cuff that bound her mind to Vitruvion's lay, that bond that she had gotten so used to, had even admitted the use of.

    “You don't know everything about him,” Stare said quietly, “And nor do you know everything about me. Yes I've never had any other choice in whom I serve but … I've chosen to see the good in him. To find it. Maybe you should do the same with yourself.” Though Stare doubted there was any good in Gravelle to find.

    Lament threw a deep look of hatred at the kenku. Stare turned away from her, knowing that Lament had not been persuaded to consider her less of a traitor. But that was it, that was what she had to deal with her life. Slowly she breathed in and just murmured, “Sorry,” as Eirik gestured for Lament to follow him.
    Crows: Old nursery rhyme "One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth, Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self."

  3. #13
    Legend

    EXP: 59,606, Level: 10
    Level completed: 51%, EXP required for next Level: 5,394
    Level completed: 51%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,394


    Stare's Avatar

    GP
    150

    Name
    Avis Tsakaka
    Age
    16
    Race
    Kenku / Tengu
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone
    -*-*-*-*-

    The days passed as bitterly as they could do, Stare hating each one worst than the last. It was not helped that Lament seemed to be a gossip and spread what had transpired between her and Stare within a matter of hours of settling into the small room that Stare could provide. She seemed determined to complain, and despite the fact she had appeared as a crying young girl she had tenacity. Yet still Stare kept her as safe as possible, and in fact made Blaze and Sable as comfortable as she could get away with, without angering Vitruvion too much, or making Zulon too exhausted with her.

    A week past, and there was little to no news from Vitruvion. Only a brief discussion of him asking if there were any major issues, and them him avoiding talking about Ventrua. Eventually he had shouted at Stare, to the point that her ears had physically rung. From that day she had made herself as busy as possible, spending as much time as she could outside of the Hollow, though now wth a party of three guards, including a gruff dwarf called Granit.

    It was a gentle day later, and Stare was riding her chocobo steed, Sen, who was a great, black, flightless bird. She had just spent the last three hours in communion with a burly man who was the security at the offices Vitruvion owned and hired out. Apparently he had issues with the demands of the job, and wanted either a pay rise or a colleague. The meeting had not needed to last so long but Stare was rapidly running out of reasons to spend all day above ground. Quite desperately she tried to stay out for as long as she could each day.

    Beside her Jordain rode on their steed - a sleek black horse by the name of Whistle. They kept throwing Stare various glances, from smiles to intrigue. The kenku tried to ignore them for a while, before grunting.

    “What?”

    “Nothing, miss,” Jordain replied. “I have just heard, not seen.”

    “Never seen me?” Stare rose her brow a little. “Are you knew then?”

    Jordain nodded slightly, and used a hand to brush back a stray hair from their face. “In a way. I used to serve under Sir Elssmith in the army.”

    Stare suddenly was stunned. Never before had she been faced with someone who knew Vitruvion before he founded the Hollow - that was, aside from his sister Ventrua and Raevin, who had been serving the god for nearing fifty years apparently.

    “Do you know Raevin then?” she asked, not masking the shock in her voice.

    Jordain shrugged a little. “You could say so. We were different platoons but connected.”

    “You rode a Pegasus?” Stare asked, referring to the fact Vitruvion had ridden one, whom he had called Venesse.

    The tall elf laughed slightly and touched the hilt of their sword, that Stare only now saw was particularly large. “No,” Jordain said, “But I was part of the Tel Celebarrna, the standing army portion of the garrison.”

    Stare slowly nodded, her eyes not hiding the wonder. “On the city of Tor Elythis, the island colony.”

    “If you can call it a colony,” Jordain smiled, their lips curving into something sweet, “It is self sufficient, which I believe suited a man like Sir Elssmith with his ancestry and pride, but it is still part of Raiaera.”

    Ancestry and pride. The kenku found herself looking away, slowly filling her lungs with air. She had not expected to meet anyone who knew Vitruvion from beyond that time aside from Raevin and Ventrua, especially one who talked of him with such pride. Why Jordain would want to then work for him in a pit of horror like the Hollow was beyond Stare but then, she had never asked the question even of Zulon. Each person she knew had their own reasons, she her own. Maybe the Hollow had started out something different, and had gotten darker the more Vitruvion lost hope.
    Crows: Old nursery rhyme "One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth, Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self."

  4. #14
    Legend

    EXP: 59,606, Level: 10
    Level completed: 51%, EXP required for next Level: 5,394
    Level completed: 51%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,394


    Stare's Avatar

    GP
    150

    Name
    Avis Tsakaka
    Age
    16
    Race
    Kenku / Tengu
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone
    Elsewhere.

    “You really have lost hope,” the god Galatirion frowned, resplendent in his silken finery. At his feet a young priest kneeled, head bowed and raising up a silver platter, upon which was dressed the fattest, roundest grapes.

    Across the small room, slumped somewhat into a throne-like chair the white haired being known as Vitruvion glared back. Like Galatirion he was beautiful, gorgeous and had an attractive scent around him, but unlike Galatirion he was dirty, dissatisfied, and looking exhausted.

    “I have not 'lost hope,’ as you put it,” Vitruvion snapped at the Raiaeran god of immortality. “I've never had much in the first place, little thanks to you, but I've not 'lost hope.’”

    “You are here, in my temple, moping in my court, eating my food, resting on my chair, using my subjects and asking for my help.” The god plucked a grape and pushed it between his lips. Taking a small bite he chewed, then swallowed as Vitruvion stared at him, dull eyed and glaring, before he finished. “You should really be grateful.”

    Vitruvion growled at him. “Grateful? To you? One of the bastards who reduced down my essence into this pathetic meat sack?” He looked down at the priest who held up the silver platter, who had been there kneeling for over an hour now in the exact same position. “Shouldn't you give him a rest?”

    Galatirion paused for a moment, looking confused. Brow furrowed he looked around. “What do you mean? Who? What?”

    “Him!” Vitruvion waved an irritated hand at the priest. “You know, him.”

    It took a moment for the god of immortality to understand. He leant back to peer around what he could see - the grapes and silver chair - and blink at the still but swallowing being, who had his eyes tightly screwed closed.

    “Oh. Him. No,” dismissively Galatirion waved the point aside. “He is one of mine. He knows his job. He will be fine.”

    The look on Vitruvion's face was one of sudden anger. “You cannot treat one of them like that,” he hissed, pissed off. “They serve you, they are not your slave.”

    “Says the man who tortures and rapes young women,” Galatirion snapped back. Vitruvion stared like he was mad. “And you know - enslaved that little pet of yours.”

    Slowly Vitruvion sat forwards, tension building through his body as his face became a twist of fury. “Never tortured. Raped, yes, I will admit to that. Not like you have not done such. As to Stare,” his hand became a rolled fist with a single long finger. “You fucking keep her out if this. Everything I have done, however wrong is to keep her at my side, to protect her from the likes of you lot who forgets why we are what we are. I had to re-remember that fact, relearn it all, no thanks to you bastards, and it took a bloody bird to do it.”

    Galatirion paused as he surveyed the god sitting forwards now in the seat, poised at the edge of it, eyes full of passion. Leaning over he plucked another grape as he curled his lip. “Boy, I have always tried to remind you what gods are here for. I even rejoiced when you began that little project of an empire you call the Hollow, even if I did not entirely agree with everything you did - do there. I thought, here Vitruvion is, looking to make his mark on the world, but thirty years later what do we have now.” He rolled the grape between his fingers. “A pathetic grump of a creature who has lost his pride. Who is unable to keep a small half god away from those who serve him, who comes here begging for me to help him find his half-sister. You're back to how you were when you first came here, Vitruvion; less naïve, certainly but still too curious, too hopeless, too miserable. Too obsessed with his own subjects - sorry, subject, and become weak. So weak that you let your - your feelings for her cloud your judgement. I was proud of you,” he looked back at him with distaste. “Now I am sick of you.”

    A silence passed between them. Vitruvion found himself reaching and clutching for his cane. He held it, tight in his hands, fingers curled around the pommel of the owl like he was going to rip it in twain. Slowly he breathed, but it was ragged breath as he fought the temptation not to get up and fight this disgusting god before him. A man who willed a mortal to sit there for hours, only to be a piece of furniture. Oh yes, Vitruvion himself was guilty of crimes similar. Images of Stare bound like nothing more than a package still burned in his mind, only to satisfy his lust. Of course, as the weeks had passed she had become more willing, and the sexual encounters had become more easier. It was so much so that he had waited until the newest girl, Sable, was ready. His heart beat heavily when he thought about his crimes, and what he might pay for them, were he in a more moral society. But this was it; he was a god, in Raiaera, where behind the curtain of beauty this thing was a commonality every day. He was just another dark wheel in the machine, desperately holding onto the few things that mattered to him most.

    Raevin, who was still recovering from his demonic attack. Ventrua, who had disappeared, and whom he had come to this temple for to try to find some news. Stare, whom he refused to admit he had become obsessed by, despite still legally owning her, despite making her immortal so she could live with him into eternity, despite telling her, to her face, that he would never let her go. Stare, whom Galatirion had mentioned 'feelings’ for …

    Feelings. “It was a mistake coming here,” Vitruvion said slowly, standing. “I let you get into my head once, let your way of life, my father's way of being a god rule me. I am not blaming you for the crimes I have committed, but you are wrong. I am not weak. I am not pathetic. I know exactly what I want, and that is still to rule, to be a god, but with those who respect me. Not fear me.” He gestured angrily at the priest. “That, is something I would never do. Now I came here to see if you had heard of my sister, clearly you haven't, so I will move on. But know this, Galatirion …”

    He drew himself up to his full height, taking step forwards. “My kingdom will be greater than yours.”
    Crows: Old nursery rhyme "One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth, Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self."

  5. #15
    Legend

    EXP: 59,606, Level: 10
    Level completed: 51%, EXP required for next Level: 5,394
    Level completed: 51%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,394


    Stare's Avatar

    GP
    150

    Name
    Avis Tsakaka
    Age
    16
    Race
    Kenku / Tengu
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone
    “And that was it. I left after that.”

    Vitruvion snarled into his tankard of wine, the hand that held it pale. His face was naturally perfect in features, but because of the strain of a human body he did not look beautiful. A week and a half now worth of searching for his sister, a week and a half of stress, of visiting almost every suitable connection he had made in the last hundred years, begging if they had seen or heard anything. His clothes were stained, his body was thick with sweat, so much it was beginning to gain ground past his natural divine scent. His brow was constantly furled so that heavy creases were becoming a commonality.

    “Sir, perhaps you should rest,” the low answering voice came as a man hobbled across the room, leaning heavily on a staff. He was an elf, with chestnut brown hair and a fair visage. Eyes that change colour with every passing new light shone out from between them. He was dressed in simple garb, and was limping heavily on his left leg, which ended in a swathe of bandage.

    Vitruvion glanced up, his eyes staring at the elf before he nodded to the armchair beside him. “You should sit down. Does the alchemist know you are walking?”

    Raevin, captain of Sir Elssmith's guard and current invalid paused, his weight fully on the stick for a moment. He had been entering the room slowly, gaining inch by inch to follow Vitruvion's sudden appearance in a little whirl of blue light, and was now faced with this. Sighing very slightly himself he pushed himself to go faster. Vitruvion remained silent until Raevin was safely in the seat.

    “Who did you ask?” Raevin asked, “and you have tried locating your sister through mental means?”

    Downing a few mouthfuls of wine Vitruvion grabbed the bottle beside his chair before replying. “I have met with every general of influence I knew from our army days, including the highest bladesingers. And I have seen what professors are not on mysterious journeys to hells knows where. I was at first refused entry to see Lady Nilith, as apparently I 'do not look the part’.”

    Raevin smiled slightly. Vitruvion scowled.

    “Nevertheless, of course I did not allow that to stop me. I appeared in her bed chamber later that evening and we had a very interesting conversation about Merla.” There was the barest hint of a smile as he mentioned Merla, the elf he had hired to be Stare's assistant, and who was the bastard daughter of Nilith - the de facto leader of Raiaera. “But she could tell me nothing of Ventrua. In fact none of them can, and to answer your second question it seems her mind is entirely cut off from me.” He curled his lip. “Demonic magic, likely.”

    Raevin nodded slowly. “We know he is in league with Sabazios.”

    “Yes,” Vitruvion savagely said, “the bastard is. And my searches for information about Sabazios have come to very little also.”

    Raevin slowly breathed out as he surveyed his employer with careful eyes. In his opinion Vitruvion looked truly awful, beyond anything he had ever seen before. The god had dirt caking his jawline, and though he did not grow facial hair, there was a shadow that resembled the scruff of an unshaven cheek. His usual clean and smart clothing was ripped at the seams and he seemed to not care. It truly was a spectacle of the downfall of a man, who had been suffering losses steadily for many months now.

    “Sir?” Raevin asked hesitantly.

    “What?” Vitruvion growled, voice ringing in the metal mug.

    “How is … How is ... she?”
    Crows: Old nursery rhyme "One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth, Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self."

  6. #16
    Legend

    EXP: 59,606, Level: 10
    Level completed: 51%, EXP required for next Level: 5,394
    Level completed: 51%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,394


    Stare's Avatar

    GP
    150

    Name
    Avis Tsakaka
    Age
    16
    Race
    Kenku / Tengu
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone
    The god paused. His blue eyes became dark as he lifted his face from within the tankard. His breathing was steady, but Raevin knew there was hesitation in the beat of his heart.

    Quickly, the elf looked down, knowing he may have gone too far. He looked at where his amputated leg with its odd fleshy replacement part sat, the part of him that had a sliver of his soul trapped within. Blinking, he thought of the item that currently lay on a chain around his neck, that was an entirely different soul and a lot more precious.

    “She is safe,” Vitruvion finally murmured. “As safe as I can make her.”

    “I am sure,” Raevin nodded quickly. “But she is strong, and capable. She may …”

    “I cannot watch for Ventrua and constantly be watching her,” Vitruvion snapped.

    “Sir, I am not saying you need to but-”

    “I ordered her to stay within the Hollow at night. And she has never once disobeyed an order, aside from … before.” His lips pursed as he mentioned of when he had had her at the Hollow, as his 'guest’. “She's mine, but in a different way. She knows that now. She belongs to me.”

    Raevin frowned slightly, cringing partly with pain from a growing leg and demon poison still in his body, but also because he knew Stare hated the reminder that Vitruvion physically owned her.

    “What next then, sir?” he finally asked. “You asked at Lady Heysan’s house?”

    “Naturally, that was the first thing I did. I questioned all the staff. Even the ones who work for me.”

    Raevin nodded slightly, knowing that despite the bond that held Ventrua and Vitruvion together, the god had always had a distrust in her. Ever since they had begun to settle on the planet he had employed someone to be her friend and deed information back to him. He believed she did the same.

    “Can I help in any way, sir?” Raevin asked, softly, though he reckoned he knew the answer.

    Vitruvion shook his head, quaffing back the last of that tankard of wine. “No. I would ask that you watch over the brewery as before, to the best of your capacity.”

    Raevin inclined his head, feeling relatively useless. He watched as Vitruvion shoved down the tankard and stared at the bottle. There was a definite line of exhaustion in the god's eye, something that was rarely seen within the man. There had been no only one time that Raevin could remember seeing Vitruvion this distressed and worn, and that had been the day his beloved pegasus steed Venesse had been killed. It had meant Vitruvion could not longer serve within the Tel Celebarrna, and when he found out she had been slaughtered by a friendly arrow his anger had been legendary. Raevin had given Vitruvion is fealty by then, and so Vitruvion's plan to throw his disgust at the mortal races by way of the Hollow had never been the elf's expectation or choice. It had simply been, and he had adapted.

    “Sir,” Raevin said tentatively. “I … think you should rest. Bathe and get clean clothes before you continue.”

    The god shook his head as he grabbed the bottle of wine and held it up to the light. It was about one third still full. “I have no time. I need to check every farm now around the city, see which way she was taken.”

    Raevin paused. “What if … she was never taken by foot. Your brother is magical. He may have taken her by teleportation means.”

    “I've already asked them,” Vitruvion glared back. “Not one of the gods, mages or soldiers who I asked detected any of that sort of magic.”
    Crows: Old nursery rhyme "One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth, Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self."

  7. #17
    Legend

    EXP: 59,606, Level: 10
    Level completed: 51%, EXP required for next Level: 5,394
    Level completed: 51%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,394


    Stare's Avatar

    GP
    150

    Name
    Avis Tsakaka
    Age
    16
    Race
    Kenku / Tengu
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone
    “Sir,” Raevin stressed, “there may be detections within her property, in other places you have not looked?”

    “I have checked already! The grounds, the house, the attics - I spent hours on the first day.”

    “Very good sir. Then you have searched where you can and so can have a rest-”

    “No, I need to search again.” Vitruvion began to push himself up from the chair, bottle in hand. There was a moment as he stumbled, his heel slipping from underneath him and he just caught himself.on the arms of the chair.

    Raevin suddenly wished he was as strong as Stare, and willing to shout at Vitruvion. To tell him he was being an idiot and that he needed to rest. She would hold his attention long enough, stand up to him like no-one had before and he would [I]listen]/I] to her. Unless he specifically ordered her the opposite.

    “Sir,” he said quietly, trying to will confidence. “Please, Ventrua wouldn't want you-”

    “How do you know what Ventrua would want?” Vitruvion snapped.

    Raevin paused, thinking now was not a great time to admit that the half-goddess had once seduced him. It had only been once. Or twice, but goodness it had been pleasurable. He had definitely learnt what she wanted then.

    But that was not a great answer. It would be better to play that other card.

    “Sir,” he said carefully, “Miss Stare would not want you to strain your body as much as you are.”

    “Stare would shut up if she told me that, as soon as I ordered her to,” Vitruvion shoved a finger at the elf's face. “She is mine.”

    “Yes sir,” Raevin nodded, “she is. And she would. But she would not stop to point out that you are not going to be able to search well at all if you are not well.”

    “Bah, I am absolutely fine,” Vitruvion told him, shoving out the cork from the wine bottle. “I need to leave. Now.”

    And he began to stand.

    “Stare would say-”

    “Raevin, stop it,” Vitruvion turned to glare at him, madness boiling in his eyes. “My sister has gone missing. The one creature who came with me from my home. Stare is safe, you are currently out of action but safe, I need to …”

    “Sir, Tinash's death was not your fault.” Raevin spoke quietly, and gently, and referred to the recent murder that had taken place of one of Vitruvion's oldest friends in the city, and business allies. The only real benefit to come out of the death was that Tinash's most important servant, Pride, had recently developed magic and had placed herself under Vitruvion's protection as soon as the death had happened. She now worked somewhere, in secrecy in Radasanth, learning how to control her abilities of foresight and telekinesis.

    Silence fell, and Vitruvion spent that time looking at Raevin. He pursed his lips, breathing slowly, flexing his free hand as if considering. Raevin swallowed slightly, his hands tight around the staff, eyes darting to the fist as if expecting it to come into contact with his face. But he knew that Vitruvion never would. It was all for show, all for the sake of power. Raevin was right in all of this.

    “Sir,” he continued slowly, and carefully, “it was not your fault, and neither is any of this danger. Your kenku is yours, we all know that, but she still would not stop to tell you how … how not yourself you look. Please, sir.” And he desperately held his hand out towards the mirror.

    It took a few seconds for the god to respond. He stood there, eyes filled with rage, hands twisted into shapes that could kill if had the will. The bottle had hairline cracks running over its surface like it was ready to splinter. They spread like the lines of a spider's web, and Raevin became suddenly aware of them, with the red liquid that was held back by their precarious nature.

    “Sir!” he hurriedly attempted to stand. Staggering, he caught himself on his staff, hands fumbling, but eyes still focused forwards despite being in sudden and clear pain.

    Shamelessly, Vitruvion threw his gaze away, upwards towards the mirror. He was perfectly still, like a statue and barely breathing as his pale but burning eyes bore into the glass. Jaw set he stared for some time, silent as the grave itself. Raevin continued to stand opposite him, shaking slightly as he strained to keep himself upright, his body actively fighting against the demon magic within. But still Vitruvion looked on, seconds passing painfully.

    Until at last he looked away, a grunt coming from his throat. He turned, roughly, and shoved the bottle out to Raevin. “I'm having a bath. Then a very short rest.”

    The elf reached out carefully to take the bottle. Vitruvion twisted around, facing the door. He paused, then glanced back to Raevin, a softer glance on his face. “I never thanked you properly for finding Stare for me … thank you now.”

    The guard bowed his head, a small smile on his lips, knowing that somewhere, beyond what he could see or hear, Stare had been asked her opinion on what Vitruvion should do, what he looked like. And she had given it, and with the briefest of conversations done what Raevin never could.

    “My pleasure, sir.”
    Crows: Old nursery rhyme "One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth, Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self."

  8. #18
    Legend

    EXP: 59,606, Level: 10
    Level completed: 51%, EXP required for next Level: 5,394
    Level completed: 51%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,394


    Stare's Avatar

    GP
    150

    Name
    Avis Tsakaka
    Age
    16
    Race
    Kenku / Tengu
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone
    “He … what?”

    She sat there confused, both because of the image of Vitruvion looking horribly rough and unlike his usual, pristine self burnt in her mind and because of what she was hearing.

    Sable, the black haired young beauty he had acquired some months prior to 'replace’ Stare in the Hollow, shrugged slightly. “Just what I said. He's not touched Blaze or I in three months. Plus I found out he …” she whispered the next word, “didn't wait for either of you two to be ready.”

    The kenku drew in a breath, her brow furrowed low as she tried to understand what exactly what the girl was saying. “It's - it's common practise for them to - he, when I was -” she flexed her hand into a fist, grinding the claws into her palm. Fresh pain came into her and it felt good to keep in the present and not think about then. Not be threatened by those memories.

    “He hasn't touched you for three months?” she repeated back, going for the first option of announcement. The second, after all, she partly knew because Jordain had hinted at it during their last two weeks of acquaintanceship.

    Sable shook her head a little, pulling on the long dress and cardigan that Stare had managed to salvage for her. The girl suited the clothes much better than the sparse slivers of material that were usual for the ‘guests’ here. With the power she now had, however temporary, Stare had been able to make a few minor changes to the lives of the girls in the Hollow. One of them was finding those who had been discarded and sent to be below the very last of the brother's appartments, to be playthings of the guards. Stare had managed to give them more of a life, not fully able to go down herself but given Zulon enough resources and threats that they should be clothed, fed well and warm at the very least. The other major change was to properly dress them all, with a simple rule that when the brothers were not entertaining them, the girls could dress how they wanted. Since Vitruvion's main businesses were arranged around tailoring and fashion it was easy to gain clothes: the off-casts of last season that would else be sent to burn. Stare found herself able to look at them with a little more confidence, despite the fact Lament had sworn to hate her.

    “It's actually been bearable here,” Sable shrugged slightly. “Dare I say it. I suppose you cannot arrange for us to be freed?”

    Stare grunted. “I told you before, that is the last thing I can do.”

    The young woman paused for a moment as she fidgeted with the edge of her cardigan. Her eyes darted briefly around the antichamber that they were in - that she had asked to visit to give Stare her gratitude for the clothing. Stare had been surprised about that, then even more so with this revelation. And Vitruvion's face.

    “But he's not even … using us.” She mumbled the last words.

    “He specifically ordered me not to begin a revolution,” Stare answered, leaning over to grab her mug of tea. “And as you saw outside I have my own glorious retinue now. For my protection apparently.” She rolled her eyes and slumped back, then looked at Sable again. “Three months?”

    It was around the same time that Stare had found out she was immortal. The few weeks that had passed after that had mostly had her in a grump, superior to the one she was in currently. But this bothered her. Why would those two times correlate? Vitruvion had given his reasonings for her immortality - namely, because he refused to live without her. She guessed she was useful to him, discovering personal talents in finance management and business that she had never considered herself to have. Also, there was a strong correlation between them. He had grown significantly more powerful himself as she had, although was nowhere near what he should be as a god. As her powers had increased, as well as her wings growing, he had begun to be able to see into his father's own mind and memories, without his father knowing he was there. He could still not create, but he could certainly teleport further, could manipulate the weather and was possibly even stronger. All thanks to her presence. The fact he refused to live without her, Stare had decided, was tied into that; his love for power. And the fact he had gone through the whole process of binding her mind to his, enslaving her for eternity. He wasn't the sort of man to let that go to waste.

    “Have you any idea why?” Sable asked quietly.

    No, Stare did not. Why more power meant that Vitruvion could not sleep with his kidnapped sex slaves was beyond her. It wasn't like he was getting satisfaction from her, and she hadn't seen many whores around. He could be, of course, visiting brothels in his times alone, which were many, but he was not the sort of man to pay when he could get it for free.

    Stare frowned deeply.

    “I do not know when he might be back. We might as well make most of the time. Is there anything you … want to do whilst he is away?”

    Sable paused, surprised at being asked. “Do I … what?”

    “Do you and Blaze want to … I don't know, go to the beach. See an art museum. Go shopping? I mean Zulon will definitely not let us go without some fight and a hell of a lot of guards but …”

    “Tothetheatre!” came a garbled answer.

    Stare paused, and tilted her head. “... Sorry?”

    “Sorry,” Sable smiled awkwardly. “Could we … possibly go to the theatre?”
    Crows: Old nursery rhyme "One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth, Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self."

  9. #19
    Legend

    EXP: 59,606, Level: 10
    Level completed: 51%, EXP required for next Level: 5,394
    Level completed: 51%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,394


    Stare's Avatar

    GP
    150

    Name
    Avis Tsakaka
    Age
    16
    Race
    Kenku / Tengu
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone
    A week later.

    Note that the occurrence of Dune-Grass happen between these
    She had a new friend. And that felt good.

    A friend, if you could call him one. It was more of a brief acquaintance that she had met on a beach whilst considering her life. There had been very little between them in terms of a long conversation, or spending delightful amounts of weeks simply getting to know one another - but there had been smiles. And there had been rest. And there had been an eventually panicking voice of Zulon clumsily contacting her via her mind in a manner she had never known existed.

    Now she stood before her full length mirror at the mansion, holding up various formal tunics to her body. Over by the door Jordain watched with mild amusement, their brows raised.

    “Vitruvion owns a private booth,” Stare stressed. “Which is in plain view before a lot of the audience. If I was not dressed properly then decorum would be out the window and blue-eyed dickface would probably never forgive me. You know how obsessed he is with appearance.”

    “Aye, miss but you don't seem the type to be bothered with that yourself.”

    The black hard eyes of the kenku glared at the guard for a moment before shrugging and dumping the tunic she was currently supporting on the ground. Leaning back she snatched one up already discarded as being not ‘evening’ enough and she draped it over an arm. It was one that she commonly wore to business meetings with aristocrats and was ultimately 'smart’ as a fine black thing, straight cut with minor lace.

    “I don't, much. But walk into any meeting with one other manager and you're expected to wear the finest robes.” She huffed as she stretched, then nodded at the bathroom.

    “I'm going in there. You do not have to accompany me there.”

    Jordain rose their brow but shrugged. “I was not planning on it. But you did disappear for a whole day. Zulon said to keep an eye on you basically everywhere.”

    The kenku scowled in her eyes and did not respond before stalking away into the bathroom. Closing the door loudly behind her she set about stripping to her underclothes, then back up again. The use of having feathers was that they kept in a lot of sweat and smell so washing wasn't necessary any day. It was also a pain washing when one had plumage, for the amount of toweling that had to be done was ridiculous. Today was not a cleaning day. Rather, she has washed yesterday and could not be bothered going through the entire charade of wetting and drying her feathers. She had fought to also get her right to wash in the mansion, not wanting to use the bathroom that was more or less hers - the one in Ventrua's old room.

    Desperately, she had tried not to think of Vitruvion's missing sister. It was painful and worrying - something she did not need. The search had reduced Vitruvion down to such a ridiculous state - covered as she had seen him in dirt and unusual ripped clothing - that she had simply tried to keep herself busy. The days were filled with appointments that she did not really need to make, but did. Daily she was visiting Lament to ensure the young girl was at least safe. So far Gravelle had not come for her, but Stare knew only time would tell. Stare also tried to do what more good she could within the Hollow, encouraging the use of better food and hygiene, as well as beginning the conversation with Zulon about permanently liberating those down below the apartments, even if it was incorporated into their movement to another country. They were not wanted by the brothers and had been through the worse of the times.

    Quickly she changed, pulling on the tunic and setting a small silver chain with onyx beads around her neck. A thin grey sash made a belt. Stare stepped from the bathroom, fully clothed and was surprised to see Jordain gazing out of the window and not poised in case escape by Stare was possible. Or rather, plausible. Which it was not. Stare already knew that when Vitruvion came back she was going to be facing a storm of anger from him. But that had been her own acceptance for the hours of peace she had received.

    Jordain nodded once at Stare, before the kenku grunted and took up a small satchel and began to stuff further clothes into it. The guard made no comment, only stepped back and gestured to the door when it was clear Stare was done. Letting out a sigh Stare nodded in return before heading back out of the room, and towards the small cart that would carry her back to the Hollow.
    Crows: Old nursery rhyme "One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth, Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self."

  10. #20
    Legend

    EXP: 59,606, Level: 10
    Level completed: 51%, EXP required for next Level: 5,394
    Level completed: 51%,
    EXP required for next Level: 5,394


    Stare's Avatar

    GP
    150

    Name
    Avis Tsakaka
    Age
    16
    Race
    Kenku / Tengu
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Corone
    Stare did not have a fantastic relationship with Ventrua, though of course there was respect. The half goddess had my been overly kind, not without Vitruvion's insistence in any case. She had flirted tirelessly with Nevin, attempted to gain Stare’s skills for her own, spent countless days asking for money from Vitruvion. Tiresome was one eyed to describe her.

    But that did not mean Stare was not worried about her. Nay, rather she tried to keep herself busy, for the lack of things to do would leave her mind open to think. Abstract thinking was something she truly attempted to avoid in those weeks, pulling on resources to stop herself from crumbling into a mess of tears. Ventrua was not her best friend, but neither was she her enemy.

    With a mind filled with these thoughts Stare walked into the main hall of Vitruvion's upper apartment, where two spread away - one leading to his rooms and the other leading to Sable's room, or what had once been Stare's. She played with the string of beads about her neck, apprehensive about the theatre, but willing to go through with it. It had taken a full week to plan, and convince Zulon that taking Blaze and Sable out as such was conceivable. Stare had considered asking Lament, but she figured the girl would likely cause more problems than what it was worth, especially with Gravelle being her 'host’.

    With a sigh she moved out of the room filled with things she never wanted to see again, but always would, and then through into the next. She could hear the footsteps of Jordain and Eirik behind her, and they were met by a further guard. Stare paused when they reached the door to Vitruvion's antechamber, curious to see two more guards there, but she asked nothing. Her brow rose and she pushed open the door into the room filled with sofas, armchairs and books.

    The door, however, into the bedroom was open. Stare frowned, knowing she had closed it herself before she had left that morning. It was a habit of hers to close doors behind her, making the risk of someone coming up behind her without her ken less. And, also, she valued physical privacy highly. It was something to appreciate, especially when you did not have the freedom of your own mind.

    “Hello?” she asked cautiously as she stepped in, hand curling around the hilt of her dagger. Woe betide anyone who tried to attack her now - she had enough horrid emotions in her to kill a platoon of soldiers.

    There was no answer … but there was noise. A scraping and a shifting, someone moving around yet not fully appreciating Stare's question. The kenku pulled her dagger from its hilt, sucking in her breath and preparing to summon a memory to full anger, or fear or anguish - anything that would fuel one of her stare attacks. Perhaps she'd blind them first, or cause necrosis to spread around their throat. That sounded painful, but useful.

    Slowly she crept towards the bedroom door, settling into a moveable crouch that could be used to launch an attack from. Narrowing her eyes she slipped her other hand into a pouch at her belt that contained various marbles that could teleport her some distances. All though, could do a few metres if it was necessary. Even a single foot.

    She sprang into the room, ready and looking ferocious, with eyes blazing. Immediately her eyes locked onto the figure who was wrapped in a long grey piece of cloth, who hunched over the case in the corner. The door to it was open, revealing a collection of shirts and jackets belonging to Vitruvion. The figure was small, and did not seem bothered by Stare as she clacked her tongue angrily, took one sweep of the room to ensure no one else was there, then began to stalk straight over.

    “Who are you and what-”

    She was cut off. But not by the actions of someone attacking her, nor by terror or fear. Rather, she cut off herself with shock when she realised who it was, and just precisely what they were doing.

    Crouching, black hair spilling over her shoulders. A small face, with staring eyes and hand upraised holding a curling scroll of paper within. Stare could see the large print at the top:

    “Issued by the official courts of Hernsford …”
    Crows: Old nursery rhyme "One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a funeral, Four for birth, Five for heaven, Six for hell, Seven for the devil, his own self."

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