Kriegspiel [Archive]

Morkotar

08-25-13, 12:19 PM

Music echoed along the cobblestone streets and brick buildings of Radasanth proper. Notes strummed and plucked from the strings of a lute floated past street vendors and parted around jostling horse-drawn carriages. Melodies never before heard in Corone's capital city resounded around her angular corners and through open shop doors bustling with customers.

Aullos Morkotar stood on a street corner, his back to a wall and a cloth cap brimming with silver and copper coins on the cobbles at his feet. He cradled a worn pear-shaped lute in both arms and plucked out melodies with his right hand whilst his left spider-scrawled along the instrument's short neck. The young elf's keen blue eyes darted down one street toward Radasanth's world-renowned Bazaar, then back the other way at the gated homes of well-to-do citizens. Aullos spotted a middle-aged Lady returning from some shopping venture. Armed guards flanking her bore paper-wrapped parcels implying considerable expenditure, yet the coinpurse hanging from her sunshine-yellow sash still bulged heavily. Aullos drew a deep breath all the way down to his diaphragm and segued into an Elven Aria to Joy and Generosity.

As the first powerful sustained note left his lips, heads turned with eyes wide or lips pursed in amazement. Song was largely a drunken rite to camaraderie in Corone, and even the best paid minstrels were entertainers and jesters as much as they were singers. Aullos had trained beneath the same tutelage that crafted the legendary voices and powerful song-magic of the High Bard Council. His crisp tenor croon navigated the aria's mountains and valleys like a Corone Ranger fining his way from Underwood to Gisela. As he sang people passed closer to his cap, dropping whatever small coins they could spare. Aullos nodded pointed thanks to each of them but remained focused on the wealthy Lady with the heavy purse, letting the fullest power of his unevolved song magic swell toward her.

The sun had passed its apex several hours earlier and a stiff breeze nipped at Aullos' heels, but the stone streets held the sun's warmth like a cooling oven. Foot traffic flowed slowly, restricted to the edges of the streets by carts and carriages. Morkotar found himself comparing Radasanth's cobblestones to the more refined, sidewalk-lined roads of Beinost. Remembering his homeland stirred anger and sorrow which would never truly heal, but the young elf allowed emotion to flow out in his song.

He had escaped Eluriand on a ship with his parents and younger twin sisters before the Corpse Horde could claim the city, accompanied by a handful of other well-connected families and a skeleton crew of experienced sailors. A sea voyage wracked by misfortune had decimated their numbers before the carrack had finally delivered them to Corone's southern shores. There Aullos had separated from his family, venturing inland to Gisela in search of his father's brother, Orodeth Morkotar, and any news of his ravaged homeland. The rumours of Raiaera varied from a full zombie takeover to an invasion from the dark elven nation of Alerar, but were never good. The only hint Aullos found of his uncle Orodeth had led to a close encounter with a vampire. Surviving by a fingernail's breath, Aullos had booked a room at an inn Orodeth was known to favour and paid his way by performing in the streets. Before long a letter arrived from his parents bearing an address where he could find them, staying with his mother's sister and her human husband. It had taken weeks to make the long walk from Giesla to Radasanth, and days to track down the neighbourhood matching the address in the letter.

Aullos' voice wavered slightly as he left the reverie. The Lady in yellow had finally drawn near and paused an arm's length away. Her guards ignored the elven street performer, shuffling their feet and pawing at swordhilts as they searched for any threat to their employer. The woman's kindly brown eyes met Aullos' sapphire orbs as she tossed a coin to into his cap. It jingled as it landed, and gold flashed unmistakably in the afternoon sunlight.

"I've not heard a voice like yours since I was a child," she confided, "my father, steward to the Baron of Bradbury in Radasanth, took me on a tour of Althanas' great nations while crafting trade relations." She placed a short finger with the nail lacquered after elven fashion along a well defined cheekbone. "I have organised a modest celebration for his sixtieth Nameday, two nights hence at my manor in the shadow of the Citadel. I would offer you a most coveted place amongst other entertainers. If..." she let the word hang until Aullos stopped strumming his lute and gave her his full attention. The Lady looked pointedly at his earnings, her own coin lonely in its golden hue. "If you would prefer brighter compensation. And I trust you can improve your appearance. With the right resources." She flicked her wrist and cast another gold crown into the cap, having kept the coin hidden in her palm as she spoke.

"Thank you, my Lady." Morkotar called as she waded into the waning crowd, still flanked by the burly guards. He had hoped to find more profitable opportunities in Radasanth, and yet the offer took him by surprise. He had planned to play for several hours more and make an early night of it, finding his family upon the morrow, but the shine of gold in his cap and the prospect of a well-connected wealthy employer urged him to find his parents and share the good news, to hug his sisters and sing for joy with them rather than for coins in the street. Carefully gathering his earnings in double handfuls and filling his pockets, Aullos slung the lute over his shoulder and jammed the cap over his pointed ears. He wanted to visit a particular shop he'd found in the Bazaar first, and then he would see his family.

Skie and Avery

08-26-13, 05:22 PM

Skie preferred the songs of silence, the gentle tunes played in wind and leaves, of insects and stream. These were the sounds of being miles from the city, out of reach of others. The closest she could get to the sacred silence in Radasanth was just outside of the city. Within the walls of the metropolis, the small churchyard memorials were still bustling with life. Yet just an hour's walk down the country roads that stretched past the gates of the seaside city there were graveyards that had been forgotten. The farmhouses and churches that stood sentinel over the hills and the stones that dotted them were long torn down. Either the war or time had laid ruin to these places, and even most of the markers on the graves were illegible. It was here that Skie felt best.

She stretched across a quartz bench by what had once been a family crypt, her chin resting on her crossed arms, her back soaking in the warm sun while she basked in the pleasure of being utterly alone. No soul living or dead had disturbed her all day, and while she knew there were things she needed to attend to in the city she couldn't peel herself away from her resting spot just yet. She'd come to Radasanth seeking an armory, but right now the solitude guarded her.

Already her trip of but a few days had turned into a week, and she hoped her companions in Concordia weren't worrying about her. She hesitated in running her errands because despite being away from the forest, Radasanth was still too close to her brother. He may have eyes anywhere, she worried, eyes that might see her preparing for her future as his adversary. If he came after her now, she would be dead. Her brother only grew in strength every day while she meandered. He had stripped her of her demonic heritage, mauling her body in the process. Recovery had been slow, but even slower was learning to be human.

She thought in youthful foolishness that she'd always been more human than demon. She never really used the gifts their mother had bestowed on them in the womb, and had always thought that if she didn't have them it wouldn't matter so much. However, she was finding out that she was utterly and totally wrong. Of course the touch of her mother rushing through her blood would have importance. Her mother had been Natamrael, the golden queen of the Beauty. Her mother had been the one who had laid even the great Godhand down, powerless between her thighs. Learning to be human when she was even half of that?

She stared down the hill, watching the tall grass wave along the scattered pieces of grey and white cairn, jutting like broken teeth from the earth. She wondered how long before her brother brought the world low, anger flushing her cheeks, when she saw it. There was a glint in the grass as she moved her head. Probably nothing, she thought as she stood, and saw it flash again. Yet it called to her like a beacon, a lighthouse lantern on a stormy night. Before she knew it she was stumbling down the hill, her feet almost drunk in her hurry and catching on pieces of stone.

Finally she fell to her knees and fished through the grass, ripping strands up and throwing them to the side in her hunger to find what had gleamed in the light. She was rewarded with the smell of upturned earth and a thin circlet, a half-moon of metal that formed the bracelet. It was white, lighter than the steel of her sword but as she picked it up and turned it in the sunshine, a rainbow of color moved along the surface in thin lines. It was beautiful, as beautiful as any manmade thing she'd seen.

Something pricked at the back of her neck and Skie turned to look around in the grass for a gravestone as she moved strands of her hair from her eyes. Yet this swath of earth was bare, and only grass pooled around her. Surely it had been left there for some spirit of this place, and yet it was all alone here as she was. What could be the harm of taking it?

Morkotar

08-27-13, 08:07 PM

The wine cost most of the silver and copper coins he had accrued, but Aullos felt it was worth it. Órelindë Séregon was a preferred small-batch vintage amongst the Morkotars. Finding a bottle of the rare aged wine in Corone's bazaar had taken some hours of wandering up and down crooked alleyways, and Aullos looked forward to telling the story of its purchase whilst sharing a glass with his parents and aunt and uncle. His sisters might even share a glass between them, as was allowed on such special occasions. Aullos beamed as he marched westward on the edge of a wide street, still thick with hawkers and shoppers alike. The young elf carried his lute slung over one shoulder and cradled the rotund, short-necked bottle of Órelindë Séregon beneath the other arm. Afternoon sun cast a shadow from the peak of his cap across his eyes as he found the neighbourhood he sought.

The classier buildings had given way to simple blockish homes with unpainted shutters and no stables at all. The smell of fish touched the air, even though the nearest docks were still some distance away. The sidestreets were marked by short signposts inscribed with simple dwarven runes. Aullos found the one that looked like a bird and ventured down the street it indicated, boots beating a cheerful staccato on uneven cobbles. The smile fell from his face and his feet became still as he spotted the right house.

Brown wicker door with a dogwood wreathe, the letter had said. Aullos saw the door, but it was no longer attached to the house. Splintered shards still clung to the hinges, but the majority of the door lay on the small lawn, wreathe askew but somehow still attached.

Unaware of his footsteps, feeling as if he'd somehow fallen past the threshold and into each subsequent room, Aullos found himself quivering in the kitchen at the back of the small house, back braced against oaken wallboards, tailbone sliding to the floor. His ghostly shouts still echoed in his ears. Unanswered.

"Father? Mother? Tamuenna? Tanatta? U-uncle Christopher? Aunt Gilthoniel?"

After minutes that felt like hours Aullos rose. He left the wine and lute on the scarred kitchen floor and returned to the entryway. He searched the mudhall and found nothing but old winter boots. Scoured the bedchambers and turned up nothing meaningful save some matched black and silver dresses that would have fit the twins. The lavatory smelled as if the chamber pot hadn't been changed in a day or two, and the kitchen was bereft of food save a stale bread-end. The study overflowed with old copies of the Radasanthian Reader and other newspapers, the collection almost obscuring an impressive bank of hardcover books. Aullos turned to leave but noted an article on the desk which had been delicately clipped from a recent newspaper.

The Bleddyn Archive and Althanaeum is seeking an experienced scribe to serve as overseer of daily operations and document maintenance... it went on to describe the building and its present owner, a female human named Luned.

Aullos crinkled his nose in frustration as tears formed at the corners of his eyes. What has happened to them? He could think of no reason for the house to be abandoned, door in shambles, with so little trace left of his family. From outside it had seemed like some violent abduction had taken place, but everything inside looked ordinary and undisturbed. Taking deep breaths to slow his pounding heart, Aullos retrieved the squat lute and matching wine bottle, and walked out of the building like an automaton. He'd need to go back the way he'd come, in order to find this Althanaeum. It wasn't much of a lead, but his father would be looking for work, and there weren't many better places in Radasanth for an elven scribe to find employment.

Luned

08-28-13, 12:07 AM

Routine felt a bit strange after all the adventures she'd had, but Luned welcomed it wholeheartedly. The scribe curled up in the circulation desk's plush leather chair with a book propped on one arm and a sleeping cat on the other; it almost felt like nothing had happened and she was the same contentedly naive girl who sat there a year ago. The gray-blue of her old uniform seemed to fade into the cool stone of the shadowy structure itself, her form becoming just as much a part of the library as the furniture and books themselves.

The library painted a picture of serenity, unusually quiet after old Bleddyn's unannounced sabbatical. Some of their regular patrons hadn't returned yet, but Luned didn't mind. These days, she grasped for anything that resembled peace.

Such peace found itself disturbed, however, when a new face appeared in the entryway: an elf, recognizable High Elven airs betraying his newness to Corone. It reminded Luned of someone she'd met over her short stay in the doomed city Eluriand, and the memory added a genuine note to her polite smile. "Good afternoon. Can I help you?"

"You are Luned Bleddyn?" he asked, articulating the foreign words with conscious preciseness. He clutched a lute and bottle of wine to himself as he approached, as skittish as the gray ball of stripes who fled at the first interruption.

The girl closed her book, placing it on the desk in front of her as she stood to greet him. She smoothed her rumpled clothing as she deciphered the clues, then switched to Raiaeran from Tradespeak. "Yes, and you are…?"

At the sound of his mother tongue, the young elf nearly dropped his possessions, scrambling to keep the wine from shattering on the floor. To prevent such a calamity, he placed the bottle safely on the desk, then reached out for her arm. At that contact, the words erupted in a desperate flood. "My name is Aullos Morkotar. I apologize for disrupting your Althanaeum, but I must ask if you've had any word from my father, Rumaille Morkotar."

She took the oddly enthusiastic introduction in stride. "Yes, actually. I believe he sent something earlier today, give me just a moment." Luned pulled away and stooped to rummage through a drawer of scrolls and envelopes, chestnut hair falling over her shoulders as she looked. "Here. He is very talented," she said, drawing open the parchment and admiring the perfect calligraphy within. When she noticed Aullos' eagerness, she handed it over.

He clutched the document cautiously, his eyes scouring it as if perusing a treasure map. After a long skim, he spoke again. "When did you receive this?" From his look, Luned assumed he hadn't found the path he'd hoped for.

"Just this morning," she confirmed. "No one else has been so thorough in their application, it really stood out."

Aullos paused, brow furrowed. Without the lead he needed, the crippling anxiety returned. "Might you know of other establishments where he may have sought employ in this field?"

His urgency unsettled her and she crossed her arms, brushing hair from her face. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Morkotar

08-29-13, 09:09 PM

Aullos nearly crossed his eyes in consternation. Hearing his mother tongue spoken so fluidly by a woman his own age for the first time in a year had caught him off guard. He wanted to weep and kiss her all at once but his mind stayed frozen to the task of finding his family. Even so, her kindliness and way with words made the decision of whether to trust her - and with how much - more difficult.

He hesitated too long, and Luned's expression changed from concern to inquisition. Mind racing down a paranoid track, Aullos decided suddenly to lie. She would note the falsehood, almost certainly, but equally as certainly common courtesy would compel her to ignore it.

"I've only just arrived from Tylmerande," he said, attempting to maintain eye contact but brushing a hand through his coarsely cropped hair. "I was to meet my father at his villa, but he seems to have taken a sudden trip leaving few instructions." He shifted his weight and glanced over his right shoulder at an unmoving bookshelf. "I was to attend any interviews and other business matters, but I fear Bleddyn was the only name he left. Are there other similar establishments in this same neighbourhood?"

When Aullos looked back at the scribe he knew he'd not come close to fooling her. She stood with arms crossed for a moment more before turning with a shrug and a flip of her hair to flatten a bit of parchment and dip quill to inkwell.

"There are several," she said, her words clipped, as she wrote a short list in a hand equal to any elf. "Here." She fluttered the parchment and sanded and rolled it with the practice of a Swordmaster at the grindstone, then handed it to him. "Good luck," she said. Come back when you're ready to admit you're lost, her eyes said.

"Thank you," Morkotar said with a half-bow as he backed away. "I will be in touch again regarding my father's... application..." halfway to the door, and Aullos realised he'd forgotten the Órelindë Séregon on the desk. His pulse quickened and the hair on the back of his neck dampened with sweat. He cleared his throat and made a curt gesture with his free hand, hiking the lute up his back with the other. "Please, enjoy this fine elven vintage with our best regards. I... thank you!" Biting back tears that threatened to seep down his cheeks, the young elf raced out into the late-day sun.

Skie and Avery

08-29-13, 09:17 PM

The decision was made when she’d first seen the shining of the bracelet in the grass. It had called to her, a siren song that she followed and even now she could feel the first icy touches of the sea pulling at her. She should have been wary of something such as this. She’d been kidnapped and shackled before with beautiful and mysterious bracelets that made her act as a puppet. Yet somehow she disregarded that part of her past, forgot it as easily as it had been a drunken night. Even though it was that bracelet and the will of a monster behind it that set her whole tragedy in motion, this one slipped onto her wrist so easily – guided by her own hand.

True to form, the moment the metal slipped over her hand it changed. The soft band started to mold, the open crescent sliding across her skin to close. Did it get tighter, embracing her flesh like a lover? In a moment her wide-eyed wonder for the beautiful piece was gone, replaced by horror and regret. Her chest gripped tight, hot tears springing to her eyes and she struggled to breathe. Panic was overwhelming her, and she felt dizzy. The graveyard spun around her, the waving of the grass only making her feel more displaced. Finally she dropped to her knees and crawled away from the empty stretch. Her eyes were tightly closed and she began to sob, only stopping when her searching fingers brushed from earth to stone. A grave marker, one of the few still intact, stood alone for her to hold.

She cried, dreading the moment when she might hear a commanding voice resound through her being, fearing that she may have fallen into the trap of the same devil. As the minutes passed and her tears ran dry, there was no such voice. No dark demon came to pull her into his trap. Instead she felt some bubbling from within. Her head was clear, it felt, from the pull of something else. It was her heart afflicted, still heavy but not from grief.

She felt ripe, a peach hanging low on a tree and ready to fall.

She pulled back, rocking on her heels and wiped the tears from her eyes with shaking palms. Faced now with just the white stone before her and the sun at her back, she gasped. Her shadow loomed large, as if it faced her and it was filled with some sick truth. Spread to the sides of the darkly mirrored form of her body was the shadow of two demonic wings, rising and falling with her breaths. How could this be? It was impossible, she told herself. She’d never had two wings. She and Avery had been born with one each and when he had exiled her, he had smashed her face into the ground and ripped hers from her back. Her hand reached back, her shoulder craning as her fingers brushed against her shoulder blade. Even from under the fabric of her shirt she could feel the raised scar tissue from where her body had been knit back together after the attack.

Skie suddenly felt the bubble of rage rising in her. It was as hot as lava, bile of the soul that had been churning within and was now rising. She struck out against the stone, pushing it to the ground. As it toppled, it shattered. Eroded with the rain, it had already been cracked along the edges. Now she stared at the pile of toppled rock and still the shadow mocked her. She could almost feel the heft of demonic wings against her back. It was a feeling she’d wanted to forget.

Turning, she faced the sun. The thin clouds drifting across the sky would do nothing to bring her relief. If only she could black out the sun itself. Inside, she felt a shifting. It was the same feeling as casting an illusion, back when she had the powers of her demon species. Somehow it was more powerful and came to her more easily. The afternoon sun shimmered, and began to slowly fall. Skie gathered the wellspring of magic within her, finding it to be deeper than ever before. The hair on her arms stood on edge as she soaked in the power, a chill running up her back. Is this how her mother felt when she was wrapping the world in these visages that were never real? No, a little voice in the back of her mind told her. Her mother never had this much power.

Skie yanked, and let her rage at the sun and the shadows over-take her. Her breath was gone, her throat tight, but she didn’t need to breathe just now. She only needed to let the magic out. She lifted her hands before her, as if she were welcoming an old friend and called on the goddess Night. The sun went dark, the light growing dim while the star itself was just a churning mass of orange that sank too fast below the horizon. Now the sky was black, suddenly filled with stars and comets. The moon was just a sliver, too thin to cast a shadow.

In the graveyard, Skie grinned in satisfaction, constellations twinkling in the reflection of her eyes. She was the Beauty again, reborn more powerful than her brother. This may be the day Avery was brought low before the goddess Skie dan Sabriel.

Morkotar

08-31-13, 09:06 PM

The Wine Cellar? I think I saw it near the Bazaar... the first establishment on Luned's list had an odd name, for a library. Morkotar scanned the rest of the parchment as he ducked down a side alley. The debris ridden row of back stoops and barred windows would take him to the Wine Cellar swifter than any of the main roads. Aullos twisted around abruptly as the heat of the sun on his back waned suddenly. He brought his hands up defensively in fear of a stealthy attacker and stumbled when he witnessed the sun fall beneath the horizon like a marble dropped from a tabletop.

"Ooof!" Air rushed from Morkotar's lungs as he sprawled in the dirt. He'd narrowly avoided a puddle of urine, and took a moment to regain his wits and thank the Gods for the smallest of mercies. He pushed onto all fours and picked up his hat, which had fallen off in the tumble.

The sudden unnatural darkness had Aullos' heart beating treble time, and yet he noticed a glimmering bracelet his hat had somehow fallen atop. With no source of light nearby he could scarcely see to the end of the alley, and yet the bauble shone as if a ghost waved an invisible torch about it. It looked like platinum, and yet the sheen reminded Morkotar of the mother-of-pearl jewellery he'd often seen on display in Raiaera. The colours blended then solidified, and he picked the bracelet up and put it on.

"Oi, you! What're yew doin down there, skulkin' about?" The voice was brash and authoritative. Aullos stood and spun whilst pulling his dirt-stained sleeve down over the bracelet. A soldier in half helm and plate wearing the emblem of the City Watch on his cloak barred the mouth of the alley.

"I fell," Aullos called, feeling strangely calm, "when the sun went away." He bent and picked up his lute but found its side crumpled, and tossed the useless instrument amongst the other rubbish in the alley. "What happened?" He stepped forwards, hands up to show he meant no harm and guard his eyes from the flickering light.

"It's an erm... eh-clipse." The soldier pronounced the word awkwardly into the side of his helm and passed the torch from one gloved hand to the other. "We're clearin' the streets 'till the lights back, only safe for everyone. Where are yew residin', elf?" Seeming impressed with his own vocabulary, the soldier puffed his chest against the half-plate.

"The nearest inn will suffice." Aullos walked measuredly past the guardsman, hearing the other turn and follow in a clamour of armour and bootfalls. The streets were curiously empty, some few people still visible being ushered towards homes or rooming houses by similarly garbed soldiers.

The guard was taken aback by the young elf. Dressed like a street urchin with hair messily hacked short, he spoke Tradespeak with flawless confidence. And yet he had the look of a Raiaeran, and the haughty demeanour to go with it.

"That'll be the Carriage House over yonder," the guard indicated a sprawling two-story manor inn where stablehands were already adding torches to exterior wall brackets. "I'll walk yew there, elf. Only-"

"Safe for everyone. Yes... as you said." The bracelet warmed slightly, and Aullos drifted sideways until he bumped into the guard.

"If you really want to keep everyone safe," he whispered furiously, "See that I have a new lute in my hands before the hour is out."

The guard staggered away as if struck, and then planted his feet on the cobblestones. He used his free hand to paw at the hilt of his sabre, but when wiped sweat from his brow instead.

"Yew'll be that the Carriage House then, ah, sir?" The human's tone had become more properly subservient. Good.

"Yes..." Aullos entered the pricey inn to the sound of the guard shuffling away. As he crossed the threshold a thought that had seemed important fluttered away. Luned's list lay next to the broken lute.

Luned

08-31-13, 09:53 PM

Due to the lack of windows within the main library itself, Luned hadn't noticed the event until she found her reading interrupted once again. This time the disruptor was an Imperial squire, uniform clad and thoroughly spooked. The young man pawed at his mussed hair, sweat beading on his pale brow. "What can I do for you, Aidan?" she asked, glancing up from the page.

"Well, you're awfully ambivalent about this whole thing," he accused. "They sent me for Bleddyn. The old curmudgeon in?"

The scribe's brow crinkled. "No, he's gone out of town for some time." Without looking away from Aidan, she tucked a ribbon into her book and closed it. "What's happened?"

"Better walk me out, Miss Luned, and you shall see."

She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but when Luned stepped outside into untimely night, her breath caught in her throat. In the absence of the city's usual preparation for dusk, they experienced true inky darkness, and it laid heavy over the quiet street. Her skin prickled and she wrapped her arms around herself. Aidan held the mammoth, oaken door open for her, gazing up as well. "They won't be pleased to hear the old man is away," he said. "We really need him this time. No one knows what Bleddyn knows."

Luned hadn't the heart to tell him of her mentor's retirement just yet, nor did she wish to invite whatever reaction it would earn from those who sent him. She didn't trust the government anymore than she would another fair weather acquaintance. "Sorry," was all the meager comfort she could offer.

"Well," Aidan sighed, "wish me luck. Keep inside, there's extended curfew until we sort out this whole mess." With a polite nod, he stepped off the stoop and onto the street, and Luned listened to the brisk pace of his footsteps until he disappeared around the corner.

Not for the first time since inheriting Bleddyn's responsibilities, she cursed him for it and wished him back with all her heart.

Luned

08-31-13, 10:48 PM

With deep, measured breaths, Luned slipped through the courtyard gate and down the alley behind the library. To move efficiently in such darkness required her to trust her intuition, which was more difficult in practice than in theory. She waited at the corner for her eyes to adjust, staring up at the stars until their twinkling faces came into focus.

In Bleddyn's absence, it was up to her to fill his shoes, and what enormous shoes they were. It was likely a good sign that she knew what to do without a second thought: collect her old uniform from storage, rummage through his study for the dowsing crystal, and meditate over some warm mint tea before stupidly throwing herself into whatever madness brewed beyond the walls of her sanctuary. Dust tickled at her nose, her cape long out of use and certainly not ready to come out of its own retirement. Cobwebs still clinging to its hem, she'd clasped it tightly around her neck for protection; its particular shade of slate blue was known to many, and the emblem embroidered at her heart bore the crimson favor of the Imperial government. Curfew was only a restriction to those without special permissions, and as far as she was concerned, she had them.

Satisfied that she was truly alone, Luned tucked the will'o the wisp lantern she'd borrowed from the study deeper out of sight under the heavy wool of her cape, then stepped out onto the street. Drawing the crystal from her pocket, she dangled it on its silk cord until it twirled and swirled at the mercy of the gentle breeze. She waited, watching captured starlight glint off its many facets, until its motion grew independent of the whims of nature. The pulse of her will ran through it, shivering, then strong.

East.

Luned slipped the treasure safely into her pocket and commenced her journey, taking care to avoid the few other brave souls who wandered the streets. As she neared the city center, however, the people's fear reached her ears. Shouts calling for truth rang out over the rooftops and the yellow glow of manmade light emanated into the sky, muddying the constellations above. While every ounce of the scribe weighed against the oppression of a regulated curfew, she had to admit, its proper observance would have prevented what she and the Imperial powers dreaded: mass panic.

"Hold up," a voice interrupted her thoughts, and she stopped in her tracks. One of the City Watch, a graying man with a crooked sneer, approached her from the shadows of a grocer's awning. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Do you hear that?" Luned replied, keeping her shoulders back and spine straight. Even if she didn't feel especially confident, she could shape the illusion. "There will be a riot if someone doesn't calm them."

He puffed on a cigarette, clenched a little too hard between white fingertips. From the trembling of his digits, she could see he was just as scared as they. "And how do you propose we do that? 'Eclipse' my arse," he wheezed through a cloud of ghostly smoke.

"I don't know," she said, "but I'm going to help if I can." With that, Luned turned and fled. He hollered after her once or twice, but just as expected, he didn't follow. He was smarter than she in that regard –– if this anomaly really did bring mayhem upon Radasanth, the inferno would spread from its heart, and anyone there would go up in flame along with it.

Skie and Avery

09-02-13, 04:42 PM

On the rocky hill, the girl peered up at the constellations her mind had knitted together from memory. She was sure that one or two weren’t right, patches of a Raiaeran night supposed over the Coronian star map. Then again the meteor show, shafts of light piercing the sky as they went racing along, wasn’t right for the time of year either. It was just a blanket of comfort, and she had to wonder if the dark sky and chill breeze of midnight was only hers in this field. Was she in a bubble of her own crafting or did it extend beyond? She turned her gaze to the south, where a cottage and a crown both sat. Had her brother or her elven lover been plunged into night as well?

There was only one way to find out how far the illusion stretched, and it was to walk. She turned back west, where the sun should be. She could see Radasanth on the horizon, though the city was so dark it almost melted into the twilight. One she got to the road, she broke out into a jog, her sword wagging at her side with her stride. She expected the illusion to break at any moment, to push through an unseen boundary with every step. It never happened, and soon she was passing smaller homes and inns that dotted the perimeter of the big walls. As she slipped into the city, listening to guards round up citizens for curfew and the distant shouts of a confused, frightened mob, it finally set in. The torches of the city watch glimmered in wet alleyways, and cast golden light on worried eyes.

Her illusion had been powerful enough to reach everyone. It wasn’t just her wishful thinking that brought the serenading of crickets in the field. Even the insects believed it to be a sudden and truthful night, and so they sang. It was the people, who counted hours from sunup to sundown, which were having a hard time with belief though they lived by the truth of their eyes. She walked until she came to a crowd huddled around a huge bonfire. Chairs and doors were piled in the square, flames licking up to the stars. The inferno raged tall enough that the shops that circled the courtyard were lit up as if it were day.

Looking at the force that was gathered there, the unease and paranoia that was fueling words that gained more and more violence as they whipped around the crowd, Skie truly feared. She started to pull at the magic that cloaked her now, intending to drop the illusion and allow the sun to shine on Radasanth once more. The girl was stopped by a little voice that broke through the spinning of her own thoughts. What if she gained more than her mother’s illusions with this power? She seemed to have become everything that Natamrael never got the chance to be, all this potential that came crashing on her when she slipped the bracelet on. What if she also got the charm that spilled from the sweat of her mother’s brow – the sweet summer smell of seduction that her succubus mother had trailed behind her everywhere she went?

She stared at the crowd – if she took them under her control with this power, she would have an army.

Morkotar

09-02-13, 09:57 PM

The livery-clad serving staff were making the most of the sun's sudden modesty. The Inn's silver wagon-wheel emblem sparkled on red and black uniforms as they raced about lighting candles and lanterns on tables and stone overhangs. Their silken breeches and skirts swished as they pattered about the marble floor which showed only the scarcest layer of sawdust.

Aullos cast eyes that shone like sapphires about the room, taking in each foam-bearded face. Walk into any tavern in Corone and you could smell two things: sawdust and cheap ale.

But it would serve. Only about half the tables were occupied, and most of those in the middle of the room. Aullos wound meditatively around the patrons until he found himself in a shadowy corner away from the buzz of conversation and clink of flatware on porcelain. He removed his cloak and spread it across a chair in a single smooth motion, spinning to sit upon it before the pleated edges could properly settled. He swept off his cap and held his head high and stared expectantly at the nearest server until the young man hastened over.

"How would it please to begin your evening at the Carriage House?" The silver-breasted youth inquired. His tone wavered slightly as he eyed Aullos' worn finery and messily cropped hair. He seemed to accept the oddity and settled into his habitual servitude. "The chef's pheasant is particularly succulent this evening Milord."

Pheasant.

How long since Morkotar had tasted his favourite poultry? The bird was rare in Raiaera, more native to Corone, and often enough growing up he'd sampled it dry and imported. He licked his lips as saliva formed around his sweet and savoury tastebuds. He could smell it, and see it on the plates and forks of many diners.

"Two pheasants," he ordered. The waiter blinked in surprise and then screwed up his eyes, memorising, as the order continued. "With lots of that red sauce I see. A platter of whatever vegetables you've on hand - roots in particular - and absolutely no grains." Aullos leaned back in his chair and inhaled long and deep through his nose. One of the nearer patrons wore the gold chain of a banker over his sifan finery, and sipped a dark red wine from a delicate crystalline goblet. Morkotar could make out the odour despite the overbearing stench of grain alcohols. "And send me a bottle of the Órelindë Séregon to start." Aullos settled on his seatbones as the waiter scampered away, whispering the order over and over to keep it right.

As the wine came and flowed from bottle to goblet to lips to belly the young elf began to feel lonely. The familiar vintage on his tongue paired with the sudden arrival of a family sized meal forced his mind back to his original purpose. He thought of his younger sisters, twins as beautiful as their voices were pure, and his strong proud parents, and found himself weeping openly over a half-finished plate of rich pheasant, tomato sauce, and stir-fried greens. He dried his eyes and looked up to find a woman in a long elegant blue dress standing next to him, fiddling nervously with her long auburn braid.

Morkotar

09-02-13, 09:59 PM

"Beg your pardon sir, but you seemed distressed. Would you feel better dining in the light with my husband and I?" She indicated the portly redfaced banker with a wave of her creamy hand. The man raised his goblet and shouted something indecipherable around a mouthful of food. Aullos rose, beckoning his server as he followed the lady in the blue dress.

"Keep my meal hot and my cloak safe," he intoned sharply, and the man ran off for a warming pan as simply as that. Were elven servers ever so well trained?

"Pleashe sit down," the banker slurred around a sip of Órelindë Séregon, "you sheem like a fellow with a good shtory." He used his free hand to pull out his wife's chair and then patted her cheek when she joined him in a toast.

"And you two," Aullos said pointedly, leaning on the table and making eye contact with each in turn, "are the most generous humans I've ever met. Truly." He detected a creak of wood and a shift in the air, and glanced at the opening door to see his guard-friend, torch abandoned in favour of the lute he clutched in both hands.

"That we are!" The banker exclaimed, "We'll take care of the cost of your meal and see to it you've a suit for the night." He poured more wine for himself and his wife.

"After all, we are the most generous humans he's ever met," she tittered, admiring Aullos' longfingered hands splayed across the tablecloth.

"Attend me," the young elf said abruptly, and swept around the table to take the lute from his guard.

"There you are milord," the armoured man said with a bob of his helm, "took it off one of them Tantalum Troupe nitwits. Anything else I can help yew with sir?" He rocked on the balls of his feet, eager for new instructions.

"Yes. You've done well," Aullos said kindly as he strummed the lute and tinkered its tuning. The man swelled with pride. "Bring as many of your fellow guards here as you can find in the next few streets. My family is missing, and you will all help me find them." The guard took off as if launched by a trebuchet, and Aullos followed him out the door, fingers plucking the lute's strings like a spider spinning web. Its silver-coated strings, stretched taught along the waxy talymer instrument, were supple and responsive. Aullos stood tall on the inn's stoop and let his tinkering turn into a tune.

He sang a song he'd never heard before, a song of longing and regret and anger and sorrow. People poured out of the Carriage House to listen, wide-eyed, while guards and citizens alike pooled inward from the nearest crossroads. He sang high clear trills and deep resonating crescendos, and they sat or stood all around to bask in his glory and pain.

With music as needle and words as thread Morkotar embroidered their minds.

Luned

09-03-13, 10:11 PM

Luned had never seen such fear in her home. A literal inferno occupied the heart of the city, smoke billowing across the rooftops and darkening the jaundiced sky. The center of the flames pulsed crimson and gold, reflected bright in the panicked eyes of the hundreds who'd gathered. Some dutiful sentries of the City Watch encircled the throng, waiting, unwilling to contribute to the cacophony and unable to quiet it. The people wanted answers and they truly had none. It was only a matter of time before someone would cast the first stone and the fear would descend into madness.

As the scribe wove through the writhing crowd, so hopelessly small and helpless, the shouts blended into a collective, deafening roar. It disoriented her and she pushed through to the opening of another street, stumbling through the thinning forest of bodies until she had room to breathe.

This side of the intersection hosted its own curiosity, however. A music reached her, its notes punctuating the shouts until she conjured the strength to block them out by concentrating on its compelling melody. It was a foreign one and it reached for her as if it had invisible hands, drawing her gently toward its source. Along with a few others who'd managed to hear it over the mayhem, she slipped down a side street to step out in front of the Carriage House where another crowd had congregated. This one was quiet, pensive, appreciative, a pure anomaly compared to that which festered only a block away. In the embrace of this strange, wonderful music, one could forget the night and the fear. But something stopped her from allowing its tune pervade her fully, an unsettledness in her chest which somehow recognized that something was very wrong, something shouldn't be trusted.

It wasn't until Luned finally picked out the responsible party through the thick crowd, an oddly familiar elven lad, that it hit her. "Aullos," she muttered, as if speaking his name might keep her from forgetting it in the rapture of his voice. Without the tools to decipher what it all meant, Luned's consciousness struggled to settle on one conclusion: he could help. If only there was some way to gather the attention of the entire city, he could sing them to sleep until the night passed and all was well again.

She moved to approach, but quickly found herself blocked by the growing audience. There were so many, if only she could reach him...

Skie and Avery

09-09-13, 12:10 AM

From her perch above the city streets, the avenue packed with the public, the minstrel had caught Skie’s attention as well. Her thoughts had been calculating, weighing the people of Radasanth under her spell against the warriors her brother had at his command. As she struggled with her puzzle of morality, the soft strains of Aullos’ lute pierced the night. The style was familiar, and the rolling hills and jutting mountains of Raiaera came to mind as the notes rolled through the night, gaining in volume as conversations stalled in the midst of the performance.

After a moment, the true tune was wafting between the chimneys, down the alleys, and floating up to her in its unabashed glory. Slipping snakelike across the shingles, Skie crept closer so that she could listen. It was several moments before she paused and blinked hard, realizing she’d been holding her breath. Scanning the crowd, she saw the bard. His song was like a dash of cold water in the warmth she’d built up with her illusion.

The joy of her new-found power was nothing against the crushing loneliness the song dredged from her heart. She yearned and longed for happier times, and her head was spinning with memories of her brother’s smile, the touch of lovers long past, and the fierce rage she held in her heart for the loss of these things. The melody stroked that rage and sorrow and she swallowed back grief as she sighed. Shoulders suddenly too cold under her cotton blouse shuddered and there it was – a flash.

Suddenly light flooded the sky as the night was stripped away for a split second. The stars were replaced with the rolling clouds and the red stained sky of sunset. The golden sun swept its rays across the rooftops before once more being swallowed up by night. Skie curled her shoulders forward, holding her stomach as she struggled to keep from letting the illusion falter again. She cursed for a moment her human father and the human frailty she’d inherited. The weight of wings that were more phantom than flesh were still heavy on her back, but they grew ever easier to embrace as she began to see how foolish she’d been to ignore her demonic heritage.

The song hurt her heart, her heart hurt her head, and the man with the lute was behind it all. However, as she watched there was a nagging in her head and an itch at her wrist that told her that maybe she didn’t need an army. Maybe all she needed was a piper to lead her rat of a brother out to sea.

Morkotar

09-12-13, 04:47 PM

Power pulsated from bracelet to lute to Aullos' soul in a triangle tangible only to him.Without need for words he embroidered images of his parents and sisters in the collected mentality of the mob. Tanatta and Tamuenna, the prodigy twins with identical flaxen hair and dimpled smiles. The younger sisters whose voices would always eclipse his own. His mother Tarawien, whose chestnut eyes and fierce determination had helped grow Raiaeran cities now laying in rubble. His father Rumaille, whose decades of careful scribework had fed the fires of their nation's demise. Nothing was more important than finding them. And yet he felt rooted to the spot, and drawn somehow to the rooftop of the Carriage House.

Suddenly the sun winked through its invisible cover, throwing long shadows down the cobbled street. Cries of shock and happiness rent the crowd as citizens covered star-spotted eyes or looked about in confusion. Some religious folk fell to their knees while a few drunks even vomited from the sudden change in exposure. Aullos felt fleeting warmth like the last summer wind before frost bites the air, and his song changed. As the sun winked back out a soothing, swooning melody replaced the dirgelike sorrow.

The crowd surged forward, a snake's nest of reaching hands and shouting lips. The guardsmen formed a ring to repulse them but were overrun in seconds. Scuffles broke out over weaponry and torches and even bits of armour, but as the desperate Radasanthians gained the inn's stoop a bubble of solid translucent air lifted Aullos high above their heads like a levitating rug. He lounged and strummed and looked down upon the commonfolk as they cried out to him.

"Please bring back the sun milord, that we may bid good e'en to red rays!" One plaintiff cry from a young lady rang above the rest, and the crowd took up a chant. Bring back the sun. Bring back the sun. Bring back the sun!

"Quiet," Aullos spoke calmly as he played, but a section of his aerial divan formed into a megaphone that drove his voice across the square. "This night shall end when I meet my family beneath this roof. You know them now?" A roar responded.

"Your family will be found safe and welcomed in Radasanth!" Called the guard from earlier, who had found his torch again.

"Your sisters are even as dear as my own daughters," a well dressed woman screamed with hands clutched to heart, "I will bring them back safely or meet my death in trying!"

The crowd washed away like waves receding with the tide. They broke into groups and scattered down side streets and alleys, each hoping to be the one to bring back the sun.

Aullos found his fingers playing a familiar tune as he floated lazily over top of the Carriage House. It was an ancient aria to peace and wellness, and even without the vocal part it soothed him. He hadn't even the seed of an idea on how to track down his family, particularly not in the unnatural night, but hoped someone in the dispersing crowd would have those skills. He had long since realised his powers had increased to those of a legendary Bladesinger when he'd donned the bracelet, but felt somehow comforted in it's metallic embrace. The world had taken his home country, his family, and finally his last breath of hope. But with the power that coursed through his veins, that ebbed and swelled with every breath he took... perhaps he could find hope and family again. Perhaps he could bring back an obliterated home.

The sedan of air settled on the shingled rooftop, balanced perfectly on the ridge between front and rear peaks. There she is... Aullos had felt the presence of the other. The only other being in this city who could understand his pain. The only one who knew his power, his potential. For she had it as well. It resonated between them as poignantly as the notes from his lute echoing off the vaulted roof she crouched beside. Aullos stood and walked along the building's spine. The lute nestled on his elemental palanquin and played itself, keeping the night alive with comforting sound.

"I would say it was no lunar eclipse," he murmured as he knelt beside her and offered a callused hand, "but your beauty that chased the sun away. If you'd share your smile, gone I'd have it stay."

let me know if anything need's be changed or added...

Luned

09-17-13, 09:15 PM

As Aullos and Skie came together on the rooftop, they fell into the snare and the world closed in around them. As the young elf offered the woman his hand, quiet settled over them and flowed out into the streets, distant cries diminishing until the city around them met with a sudden sleep. Skie sneered, drawing away from Aullos' gesture. A glance down at the road below revealed blurred, stationary figures, only partially perceived through a dreamy haze. The windows around them offered candles as starlight in the fiery gloom and they shone steady, no wind to entice a flickering pulse. And as Aullos and Skie transcended the fog into their own orb of existence, the sleep around them nearly seemed a death.

"I see you are enjoying my gifts," a voice sounded, youthful and startlingly loud amongst the strange silence. Upon the roof with them stood a human boy, no older than ten or eleven, with a tidy part of strawberry hair and clad in a simple gray uniform. When he smiled, dimples blossomed on his cherubic cheeks.

Aullos straightened his posture, looking to the boy with brows lifted. "Gifts?"

He laughed at his elder's naivete. "You couldn't have done that without me," he explained as he gestured to the crowds below, frozen in their steps as they pursued the elf's command. Lifting his arm and tracing his fingers over his wrist to insinuate their bond, he glanced between them. "When you put these on, you accepted my gifts. I trust they've been satisfactory. In return, I'd like to ask a favor."

"Favor?" This time Skie spoke, but her tone was that of someone world worn and rightly skeptical of any shallow sense of serendipity. She rubbed at her own wrist in anxious response, gaze shifting between Aullos and the child.

"You see, I'm not from here, and neither is my friend. This body, this is nothing but an anchor which allows me to speak with you now," the boy said as he pressed his hands to his chest. "My friend has an anchor, as well. I need you to break it. If you do this for me, you may keep the gifts."

Though the temptation was great, he had not sold the concept to Skie just yet. "Do you mean you wish us to kill someone?"

"Yes." He made it sound so splendidly simple.

Skie's brow furrowed. "And what if we refuse?"

A Cheshire grin pulled his lips tight, pearly teeth and beady eyes glittering in the dusky light. "Imagine what I must be if what you feel coursing through you is nothing but a pittance, my dear. You are familiar with magic. Imagine what it might feel to lose the gift, and imagine what I might take from you in interest."

The dark situation settled heavy over Aullos. "We didn't ask for this. Why us?"

The boy laughed, and his voice echoed off the burgundy sky. "What fun is a game without a little risk? Now, look. Everything has been made so easy for you." He pointed to the street below, where all figures remained still but one who escaped the clutches of his enchantment: the little scribe Aullos had the pleasure of meeting earlier. She walked with purpose through the frozen crowds, her pace erratic as she attempted to access the building on which they stood. She'd seen the elf rise to its roof; she knew.

"Good luck," the mysterious child bid them with a playful little wave, and then turned to flee down the stairs.

Skie and Avery

09-29-13, 01:12 AM

She paid little attention to the child now, the cold in her gut rising up her throat until she felt like she might gag and spew winter on them all. Her dark eyes were watching the girl that had been pointed out to them, uneasily studying her from afar. She didn't look much younger than Skie herself, and certainly not a warrior. Yet, Skie had known great magic to come from the frailest of forms before. There was little information that could be gleamed from the body of a magician. In fact, there was little she could tell at all that might guide her. True, this girl that ducked and turned through the frozen crowds might be an innocent, but she might just be as malicious as the child that ordered her death.

One thing that Skie knew was that the nameless boy who had so generously bestowed these gifts upon them was no innocent. It should have taken harder things than a smile to ask someone to end a life. Skie wasn't prepared to trust him, but she wasn't prepared to lose the power that let her cloak the sun in a night sky of her own imagining. She wasn't prepared to lose the chance to save her brother from himself, to make her nightmares stop. Avery's green eyes were always burned in the back of her mind, a forlorn melody always on play. Pursing her lips, she turned back to Aullos. It was hard to speak, but she swallowed the knot in her throat and spoke anyway.

"What do we do?" she asked, her voice as quiet as a sigh. It wasn't something she asked much. Skie cleaved her own way through this world, but now she felt lost. It was as if she were a child again, headstrong with a stolen sword and sneaking into the Citadel. Only this time there wasn't the protective presence of the Starslayer to keep her safe. Her hand was on her sword now, the same one her father the Starslayer had carried. What resolve she couldn't find within herself came from the worn leather hilt, the strength of the simple steel blade. Her father had been a man of honor, her mother's gifts be damned. Skie could damn those gifts too.

She took a deep breath and the illusion came crashing down. Sunlight pushed through the night and she was staring at gleaming clouds now, squinting as the sudden crash of brightness assaulted her eyes. Her voice was stronger now. "What do we do now? Because," her hand motioned to the streets below where the librarian had been moving. "I can't do this."

Morkotar

10-04-13, 02:39 PM

The bracelet burned on his wrist like the re-appearing sun.

Aullos shielded sensitive eyes against the sudden blinding light, turning his dagger-shorn head away from the willowy Moontae. He saw Lunded approaching the Carriage House and crimson blossomed across his cheeks. She was so kind, and yet... the bracelet was his only hope of finding his family. He fingered the opalescent metal. No, the bracelet was his family... so long as he had it, the people of Radasanth would help keep looking. Which left the slender beauty beside him as his only hope, too keep his newfound power.

The lute he'd left on the shingles had stopped magically playing when the child-being appeared. Morkotar picked the instrument up and plucked a few melancholy notes, allowing his hands to do what they knew best. The divan of air reappeared, this time solid white and fluffy as a cloud.

"I can't do this either," he told Skie, gesturing at the librarian below with a jerk of his long nose, "at least not now." He could not face Luned either, though. He needed to forget all about her, forget her gentle kindness and flawless Raiaeran accent, forget the expression of concern she wore as she trotted toward his perch. Forget that she was a woman as deserving of life as any other.

Aullos had never killed before, but he felt certain it would be easier if he hadn't met the victim.

"Will you join me?" He asked the moontae as he reclined on his bed of clouds, "I cannot bear this city for the moment."

She seemed somewhat tentative, but either her own bracelet of power or Luned's advance made up her mind. She perched on the edge of the cloud, and it rose skyward with the notes from Aullos lute.

The air felt cleaner and clearer the higher they rose, camouflaging amongst the sparse clouds in the sunny blue sky. Before long the music and freedom returned normal colour to his cheeks. He placed the lute, again strumming itself with invisible fingers, between them and touched the winged woman's elbow.

"I am Aullos Morkotar," he said, glad that he had found his Coronian accent at last, "what is your name my Lady?"

Hope the bunnying of Skie is okay - PM me if anything needs changing, and feel free to bunny right back.

Skie and Avery

10-13-13, 08:26 PM

"Skie," she said. She stared at the city streets below her feet, watching as the rooftop fell away and the people streaming in the lanes shriveled down to the size of the wooden figures that littered toy shop windows. Even the lights of torches and candles, lit against the artificial night, seemed to be duller and less important. There was still the knot sitting in her stomach of the terrible choice they'd been given. At least the elf felt the way she felt. She worried for a moment that if death to the mousy librarian had been so easy to come to his hand, she would have had to end him in turn. She could not imagine easily ending even the worry that creased the girl's brow or the purse of her lips. It was all too human.

Still, even as they escaped the face of their bidding, the bracelet beat in time with her heart. Here among the clouds, wisps of wind and mist, it felt as if the platinum and mother of pearl wrapped around her wrist was even more important. She could taste metal in her mouth, as if the magic was her blood, and the power that flowed through her undulated in her gut. She felt like heaving over the edge of the cloud, too full of power and responsibility. She felt like unleashing an illusion to make this all seem like a dream, but it would not sate the strange child. And still, no matter how she scratched at her wrist, the thing would not be torn off. She was in it's grasp, a puppet of the jewelry. She was powerless, unless she did as it said and then it would be her servant as she used this raw power to make all her dreams come true. Why couldn't she just relinquish control?

"We should talk to her," the swords-woman finally sighed, her voice tight and small. Even as she said it she felt a surge of admonishing power from the bracelet, turning her stomach. She was holding her breath, sweat beading on her brow, and her other lost gift - seducing pheromones - pouring from her pores. Tightly closing her blue eyes, she sat and waited for the wave to pass, for the tendrils of allure to stop drifting from her. It seemed her own body was taking her hostage, a victim of the war of wills she felt she had no control over.

Morkotar

10-18-13, 10:34 PM

Had to take some liberties with Skie to move us along, and some with the Althanaeum in describing it, but it can all be changed. Hope you like it though :D

"Yes," Aullos said, feeling the cloud shift beneath him. It seemed driven by the self-tinkering lute but steered by the bracelet that kept the lute playing. The bracelet that kept his blood pumping. The would-be saviour of his family. Had the sudden change in the cloud's momentum caused him to shift, or was he leaning so close to Skie for some other reason? She smelled like the Raiaeran lillies that made his favourite bedtime tea. "Yes, we shall speak with her."

The moontae had her eyes closed and her arms tucked around her slender knees. She looked much like an elf lady, only wilder and exotic in her complexion. Her hair shimmered as it flowed in the wind, seeming composed of shades of darkness rather than firm black or brown. Aullos wanted to touch it, and was taken back by the whim. He'd never touched a stranger in such an intimate way before. Of course, he'd never flown a foreign beauty through a Radasanthian night on a cloud of solid air either. The rooftops slid by beneath them, but his sapphire eyes stuck on Skie. The hollow of her neck and the curve of her jaw. The delicate folds of her ears.

Morkotar lifted a lithe, long fingered hand and caressed a strand of silk darkness. Skie's eyes snapped open and he froze, but there was nothing accusing in her look. Only deep sorrow.

"I'm sorry," she said, moving his hand away with her wrist against forearm, a parry more than a touch.

Aullos felt heat flood the sides of his neck and the tops of his cheeks. What has she to be sorry for? He asked himself, it is I behaving like a lout.

"The apology must be mine, Miss Skie," he said in shame, but that seemed to make her sadder. A single tear trickled down her cheek as she tightened the ball of her arms and legs and looked away. "I-- I have been away from my family long. I wish only your help in their return." He wiped her tear away with his string-callused thumb, trying not to show how her wet skin enthralled him. I must do something with my hands. He picked up the lute and strummed it absently as their cloud drifted downward.

"This is Luned's library," he said, more in shock than to inform the Moontae. In the darkness from above he might not have recognised the building, but a pair of guards strode past the front gate bearing torches as the cloud settled on the roof. In the flickering light of orange flames Aullos recognised the picket fence he'd nearly thrown himself on in anguish. Was I ever truly so weak of wills? He wondered as he stepped onto the slate shingles and held a hand out for Skie. She took it tentatively, other slim palm perched on her sword pommel as if he might turn into a Corpselord.

She followed him down the wooden steps propped against the library like a bookend, and they found the front door unbarred. She could not have returned so swiftly, Aullos reasoned as he pushed to the shelf lined interior. Had Luned been forgetful, or did that warming of the bracelet as he grasped the handle pick the lock? Aullos felt as if he was still floating high above the city, and made his way around the circulation desk and sat in the plush leather chair. It spun freely so he wound up facing away from the door, and noticed the bottle of Órelindë Séregon he'd gifted the librarian by mistake. He scooted the chair closer and leaned to reclaim the wine, but a furry protector leaped onto his settled lap. Aullos smiled and scratched the cat behind its ears, the resulting purr a comfort to both creatures. Not unlike elven song magic.

The door opened in a rush of air and creak of timbers, and Luned entered the library.

"Miss Bleddyn," Morkotar said as he rotated 'round in the chair. The cat snuggled beneath his right hand and the wine rested in his left. "Have you three glasses? We all could use a drink, I think."