Tranquil Gateway

[Fayne]

((Closed to.. someone..))

Around midnight Fayne felt a sharpness on her palm. Her brow furrowed as she woke, the dream gone in an instant. The pricking continued and she growled irritably when opening her eyes. At the sound of her voice, the sharpness went away.

"My lady.. I think.. it is time now." The nekojin completely bound by greening burlap rope next to her murmured. His speech had been awkward, as all teeth save for two were missing, kept for the sole purpose of waking her up.

Fayne flickered her sleepy eyes and looked up to find a moonlit sky. "It may be." She answered, pulling the rough blankets and the nekojin's clothes off herself. Fayne felt around the cramped space between two walls they had took shelter in, finding the belt and satchels where she left them, and most importantly, the letter. That was one good thing.
Her hand then reached out for the nekojin and she slowly ran her fingers over his ropes, feeling every fiber. After a time, he eyes narrowed.

"You've been trying to escape."

The nekojin trembled. "..my lady.. I would not.. risk.."

Fayne sharply interjected.
"A few hours to cut through with two fangs. Foolish chance to take. You ferals are not as clever as expected."

"B..but the rope was like..that..before! I did not.."

Fayne only heared dishonesty in his words and gathered herself up. Without the blankets her skin quickly chilled from the cold.

"..What are..you going.. to do..now.."

"To see my mother." Fayne replied before she paused for an uncomfortable moment. "You betrayed my trust."

As expected the nekojin mewled more denials. She ignored them and soundlessly drew her blade. The captor must have seen it.

A half hour passed and Fayne left the alley to the wispy white street. The black wave of death her sword passed onto her made her wish she could have found more people but the feeling she got from the lone nekojin seemed to suffice despite the long while it had been since the last killing. She leaned down to give her dripping red blade a quick wipe against the snow before continuing on through the city. It took care to not slip on some of the wooden walkways, and Akashima was full of them. They delayed her progress more than a few times and she hoped the nekojin counting the hours had not blundered.

Close to another half hour passed before she found Akashima's lengthy habour, where many ships were outlined in the darkness. The few lit vessels were bleak compared to the lantern lights carried by the patrollers. There were far more than Fayne expected so she occasionally detoured to avoid contact. Being confronted was the last thing she needed and the thought of being late with the sender of the mysterious letter quickened her steps.

The letters message was suspicious as it implied that she had been watched for some time, which had unsettled the young murderess. Even if the letter spoke of some 'Dark Mother' and a cult devoted to death, she knew well it could have easily been written by someone else hoping to ambush her. Whoever it was after her, Fayne had no intention of hiding.

For the next hour she roamed the seaside walkways before the instructed meeting place was found. The dock of redwood with the tall ornate arch that overlooked the ocean was distanced away from other piers and the glow of guard lanterns seemed faint in the distance. Fayne walked up along the single pier and waited, letter and sword held in her hands. There were no ships or boats headed for the crimson dock that she could have seen, atleast not yet, and all was quiet save the gentle lapping of the water below. Maybe the sender was not even coming on a boat and was behind her instead? Or maybe there was no one coming at all and she came too late. Fayne kept a guard up regardless.
The silvery moon, the silence and the twinkling frost that overhung the arch felt strangely serene as she stood there. With both eyes settled on the moonlit sea, she wondered what fate awaited her.

[Requiem of Insanity]

The moon…

How long ago was it that she looked upon the face of the sky guardian with lust? How long were those nights that she sent victims screaming her love to the denizen in the sky in the hopes he could hear her song? It was dark light, illumination that fed the shadows with energy, and it was what let her feel most at home.

The gift of the moon had also allowed her to spend her time stalking her newest pray. It was a curious thing to be on a hunt like this. She followed the Half-Elf for months now, learning her habits, mannerisms, and more importantly; her dark desires. She was a poor lost soul, wandering the plane of Althanas in search of closure to the void inside her heart. Bloodshed was this creatures passion, death was her mistress. She was so lost in a world that shunned such invigorating experiences.

That was what the cult of Blessed Torture was about. To gather in these wayward diamonds in the rough. With arms held wide like a mother welcoming a child, they one by one were brought into the fold. Serial Killers, Rapists, Sadists, Flagellants, and murderers. All of them were misunderstood. Only the Dark Mother knew what made such creatures tick. Only the Dark Mother understood their plight and desire. Only one who had stepped so low into the abyss could hope to even tame these abominations to mankind. Only Cassandra Remi could organize them into a singular purpose.

Aerith Remi had always marveled at that.

She had not had a chance to even send a letter to her mother in the stalking of the Elf creature. It took her forever to find someone who even remotely fit the description left to her charge. Yet failure was never tolerated within the Cult of Blessed Torture. Not even family was exempt, as Cassandra made clear by publicly killing her father in front of the masses of her growing legion. Not that death would hold her grandfather Jebb back. The man was an immortal after all, but the thought was still clear in everyone’s mind; Do not cross the Dark Mother.

When the appropriate time had come for Aerith to meet her new ally or potential playmate she had made great haste to avoid the guard. Thanks to the sneaking suit she wore, an item that could bend light around her and make her invisible but to the well trained eye in the shadows, she was able to move with impunity along the wet, salt licked wooden planks of the docks. Aerith observed the girl as she moved, testing her by constantly bringing attention to the Elf’s location by throwing rocks or making noises. Each trial she faced without even a grimace of frustration, meeting the challenge head on with the cold efficiency only a killer could achieve. When she was at the meeting point, Aerith smiled darkly to herself before lowering the mask of her suit with a hooked finger, pulling the fabric back.

The Half-Elf looked out over the sea, Aerith’s movements quiet as a mouse. She observed her prey, the final test coming. Could her new friend save herself? Or would the knife in her hand end her…

“I can hear you,” The Half Elf spoke with clarity, still looking over the sea. Aerith let out a soft chuckle twirling the knife back to into her holster, stopping a few steps away. There was a moment of quiet save the sea breeze making the flesh rise even beneath her warm suit. The tangy smell of the salt made her tongue wiggle and nose wrinkle as she ran a hand through her red hair letting the breeze air it out as she undid the note in her ponytail.

“Then you have use to us in the Cult of Blessed Torture,” Aerith said humbly. “My name is Aerith Remi, daughter of the Dark Mother. I have been following you for quite a while now, Ms. Fayne. I must admit, I am a fan of your rather sloppy style. By the letter in your hand you are aware of the stipulations we set out for you?”

“I have a chance to meet my “family” if I complete this mission,” The Elf said turning around and shrugging softly.

“Every letter is different, Ms. Fayne. Each one written by the woman who knows all of people’s darker desires. If you wish to unlock your potential, and be with people who will not judge you for being what you are, then come with me to the Isle of Dethaine. There we will test your loyalty.”

“And what exactly are we going to be doing?” Aerith smiled as the Elf lowered her gaze. She wanted information up front. That was something she liked in a killer. To many deadbeats wasted time with chit chat. Those that were not worth the Dark Mother’s time were either killed, or, if able, dragged back to her home where the Gisela Reaper would get her hands on them personally. But she had been asked a question and she intended to hide nothing from her newest sister.

“There is something the Dark Mother wishes, and we are to go a fetch it,” Aerith said leaving her answer vague as she slipped into the darkness again, a finger curling for the woman to follow.

[Fayne]

She wasn’t led far. To her lack of surprise, Aerith presented her a boat floating below the shadows of the dock. She slid gently down the rope, staying silent on her way down and took a seat. Fayne felt aware of the quartet of hooded figures behind and in front manning the oars, taking note of their almost lifeless outlines. Even in the dark they felt a little soulless.

As soon as Aerith made her way down to join her in the bench opposite her, the boat cast off into the silvery moonlit sea. Taking a short huff of the frosty night air she crossed a leg over her knee and whipped out her blade, resting it over her lap. Whatever cult the woman was a part of, she didn’t trust her.
After some some time she noticed the woman staring at her with a hint of bemusement. She returned the look with widening her eyes, almost demandingly

“Lady Aerith.” She began, tilting herself forward a bit to get closer. “If it turns we really are sailing to an island, supposedly by the whim of some Dark Mother of yours and this isn’t a foolish plot to murder me at sea..-“ she left the notion hanging in the air for a moment before continuing. “Do you have knowledge on who could bar our path?” she softened her expression, smiling toothily. “I would be bitterly disappointed to be summoned in the dead of night to take the blade to unwashed yokels.”

She had no knowledge on the Isle of Dethaine, but something about the name made her feel as though she wouldn’t be disappointed. She almost felt she even might die there. The notion excited her.