It Was Personal To Me (closed to Dissinger)

[Skie and Avery]

The cheerful apartment had taken on a touch of gloom despite the clean floor, the plants that grew lush and green in the windows and the bright curtains that fluttered in the breeze. Skie sat at her kitchen table, the heavy wood bare except for a quill, ink, envelope and clean, untouched sheaf of parchment. Her hand hovered over the white expanse, unsure of what to write. How much of her suspicions would be safe to put down to paper? She touched the golden arrow around her neck, as if her worries were the spell that summoned the pendant to her thoughts.

Seth, the letter began. I have been settling in fine since the last we met. My work has been steady and quiet, as you know I am grateful for. I have received several packages by post. You could say that my gifts abound, and I hope the same for you.
Psqo, U hsst yjrm osck. U fgh'q qmrpq ghyjhs scps. U tjh'q qouhd U mgh agpq shjrbo.

She checked and double checked her cipher (http://rumkin.com/tools/cipher/caesar-keyed.php)as she waited for the ink to dry. When it had, she folded up the letter and sealed it in the envelope. Within the hour she was ready for the day and left her apartment, locking the cheerful yellow door behind her. She dropped the letter at the post office rather than outside her door and made her way through the winding streets towards the clinic, with airships above and the crowd of city life moving her along in the shuffle.

The back room of the clinic was for hygiene, with tubs and wash basins. Here and there the leftover splatters of blood and grime were left behind, and the humidity of water heated by the crackling hearth left a cloud of steam on the mirrors and the feeling of sweat on the back of her neck. Skie leaned over, scrubbing away at her wrists and fingers before plunging them into a scalding bath. She hadn’t heard the shuffle of cloth as she was joined by two other Drow who wore identical white uniforms, their hands covered with gloves, masks over their noses and mouths. Their hair was pulled back away from the face, held in muslin sacks to keep the tendrils from swinging free down their backs. They were the picture of uniform sanitization.

“Sariya,” a voice said, calling to the woman by the name she’d assumed in Alerar. As she turned, one of the elven doctors stepped forward, producing a rag from their pockets. They grabbed her by the plait of her hair and shoved the rag into her face. Skie tried to jerk back, but her surprised gasp only bought her a lungful of the sweet, stinging smell soaked into the rag. It was a smell she recognized from surgery, and though she tried to hold her breath, the doctors that she had thought of as friends were able to bring pain in a wrench of her arm behind her back or a ripping pull to her scalp that made her breath again. With struggle, and slowly, sleep came.

[Dissinger]

“She's not here,” The words hung in the air. The small kitchen was homey enough, and had it been a normal day, surely the occupants would be crowding it. A wide brimmed hat and duster covered most of the figure sitting at the table, who shifted in the chair causing it to squeal in protest to the weight redistributing itself. A hand rested on the wood, a sickly bright oak that seemed to be the leftover scraps from the nearby carpenter cobbled into some working piece of furniture. In the other hand a yellowing piece of paper sat in his hand as he looked it over. “Look man, I know you don't speak drow, but you aren't going to figure it out looking right at the damn thing. You either know a language or you don't, you can't just stare and figure it out.”

Salt and pepper hair atop pale skin marked one of the other men in the room who was looking at the man at the table with disbelief. The other two watched silently and rested nearby as the man moved his other hand and trailed it across the letters once more. He frowned before he cursed, “Shit, its not drow at all. Its not even close to elvish, it just looks like it.”

The older man looked at his friend before he asked the obvious, “You sure?”

“As sure as I am that she's in trouble. Look, I may not know drow, but I recognize when I'm looking at something that doesn't make sense. Take a look at some of these words and tell me they are anything approaching language,” He pointed to a few of the words before he went on, “No, the clue has to be gifts abound...”

“Seth, you're looking for trouble where there is none. Face it, the girl knew you were a bad seed and decided to be rid of you. She may not have the best view of you but it can be accurate from a certain point of view. She's probably off somewhere safe waiting for you to head back to Lavinya after the heat dies.”

He had already grabbed a piece of charcoal and was in his own world moving the letters around before he shook his head and closed his eyes. When they opened he looked at the paper one more time before he spoke, “Its not a simple letter swap. She wouldn't risk a message like that, no, it has to be something that is substitution.”

“Seth, listen to yourself! You are sitting here trying to be her knight in shining armor, when you should just be giving up. She dear johned you. You aren't going to rescue her from a situation she wants to be in,” The man responded.

“Garret, for someone who claims to see everything around hi, you are utterly blind,” Seth retorted as he hunched over the paper and underlined the words gifts abound. He then narrowed his eyes before he spoke, “King's cipher? Simple, easier to crack but makes sense, given her lineage...”

The red head shook her head before she hid her mouth behind her hand, her shoulders shaking at the display. Garret only seemed to enrage at the comment before he spoke, “What am I missing that you picked up Seth.”

Seth sighed and put the paper down, looking up at the ceiling for strength. His hat fell off his head, revealing a red ring about his head disappearing under his hair. He shook his head before he stood up and walked beside the door. A gauntlet clad hand grabbed with a rattle a sword in a scabbard before shoving it into his friends hands, “If she's so safe, why didn't she take her sword with her? Why leave the only thing she has from her father behind? This is Ettermire, unless you're sure you won't need a weapon you don't go anywhere without one, and even then you smuggle a dagger or two. She wouldn't leave her sword if she was going to hide from me.”

Garrett's look of anger softened as he looked down at the sword in his hand. Seth reached down, roughly gabbing his hat off the dirtied wooden planks, setting it heavily on the table before he resumed looking at the letter before he continued his work. The others remained silent at the Demon's work before he finally moved the paper and shoved it into Garret's hands, “You tell me whats more likely, that's drow or gifts abound creates a cipher that says that?”

Written in charcoal under the jumble of letters was the words:

Seth, I need your help. I can't trust anyone else. I don't think I ran fast enough.

[Skie and Avery]

She woke up slowly, nursing an ache in her skull and the feeling that sleep had been a leviathan under the sea of her consciousness. Just as she started to surface it tried to pull her down once more. Her breath fogged in front of her mouth and as her mind finally broke free of the cobwebs and veil of grogginess, she realized her nose was freezing. The rest of her body was protected by woolen blankets. Sitting up was a stiff pain, as if she’d been thrown around in her sleep. The last moments of her assault coming back in fractured memory, she guessed she had been. Now that she had a chance, she looked around her surroundings.

She was in some sort of one room cabin, void of windows. The light that came in was spotty, streaming down from patchy holes in the thatched roof. The wind howled above, dust swirling in the streams of light. The bed she’d been laid on was only that in name. It was a simple frame that held aloft a wooden pallet. While blankets had been thrown over her, there hadn’t been a mattress and the pattern of wood and stripes from open slats of the pallet were pressed into her skin. The floor of the cabin was dirt, and on the floor next to the makeshift bed was a small cup of water. She drank it greedily, sinking to the floor.

Finally, she was ready to step outside.

When the woman flung open the door, the wind rushed inside armed with the weapons of snow and sleet. The chill made her back up, turning her back on the tumultuous gust. Once she’d girded herself with the blankets, wrapping the around her shaking frame, she tried again. Outside the door, she couldn’t see far but all around were banks of snow. Whatever tracks left by the people who had put her here were long gone, the sheaves of white that rode the breeze covering them and keeping the surface of the ground smothered in white fluff. The blizzard seemed to be dying down, the scream of the wind settling to a dull roar.

With uncertain steps, the Starslayer's daughter left the cabin behind. It had nothing for her after all, not even a thin promise of survival. If she had to guess, she’d been dropped in Salvar or Berevar. She’d heard about their harsh climes, and for redemption or revenge someone wanted her gone from Alerar. Snuggling in a little tighter against the winter chill, her steps grew steady, her indigo eyes more sharp. The air was a swirl of flakes, the light seeming to come from everywhere. She wasn’t sure how she was going to tell where to go or where she’d been, but she knew she needed to move to stay alive.

She had a lot of time to think, about the night and the man who had sent her after Nemo Anhak, about the Drow who had set her up to live in Ettermire, and the familiar faces that had been the ones to drag her into the night. She hoped to the Thayne, if ever they’d been true, that her message had been seen safely to Seth Dahlios, and that the damn thief would know how to read it. It didn’t take long before she came to an impasse. The snow before her cleared and almost all at once she was confronted with a rocky cliff-face rising upwards. She could turn back, where it was impossible to tell where she’d stepped, or she could follow the cliff. Hoping the path would rise and she’d find shelter or soul, Skie turned west and started moving along the wall. Hugging tight to the ice-glazed rock, the swordswoman couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching her.

[Dissinger]

The white washed walls of the hospital seemed old, a run down building in a bad part of town. Grey eyes drank in the surroundings, people streaming in and out of the old hospital. The predator in him knew that he had ample prey, the human in him knew they were in dire straights to trust a hospital. It wasn't that the hospital couldn't help, it was that there was a risk with coming out with a disease that someone else brought in. He looked back upon his companions before he shrugged, “I honestly have no clue what to do.”

“So, you dragged us to her employer, and don't even have a game plan?” The words hung in the air as one of the women pointed at him, “I thought you always had an ace up your sleeve?”

“Cousin, when have I ever acted like I had a plan for anything?”

Garret and the other woman groaned as they looked about the area. Finally Garret spoke up, “Beatrix is right, we're only wasting time here. I'll tell you what, go see if anyone has seen her around and I'll watch the building from one angle, Rachel will from another. Anyone who seems to be running gets caught between us.”

Beatrix looked upon Seth before she said softly, “I'll be your back up, if things get dicey or someone tries to blind side you, it won't happen. 'sides, another set of eyes is never a bad thing.”

Seth shrugged before he pointed at the two leaving, “Garret, just be careful, guard is already on edge about us, and being strangers in a strange land won't help us any. They're looking for an excuse.”

The couple departed after a firm handshake and Seth turned to his alluring cousin. He carefully opened a door and gestured her through causing a grin to light up on her face. “It's nice not having to worry about a knife in my back from you.”

“Who says you don't?”

Laughter echoed between the two even as their boots slapped against the hard wood floors. The hallways were cramped, people were bitching to eachother in every language under the sun, and even still the banter between the two continued. It wasn't until they had pushed into a room that anyone resembling a healer stopped them, “List your ailmen and you'll be seen based on how severe your ailment is.”

“I'm looking for Sariya Surulinath,” Seth said pointedly.

Beatrix stiffened at those words even as Seth could taste the panic in the air. The doctor seemed nonchalant as he spoke, “Oh she hasn't been in recently. Why? Is she ill?”

“Could you tell her Seth is looking for her if you see her?” Seth asked politely even as the doctor nodded. He turned to go, shuffling through the crowd of people. Beatrix pressed in against him as she hissed intimately;

“He panicked when you asked him,” She hissed. Seth shivered and closed his eyes against the impulse. He breathed in deeply through his nose before he smelled it, faint and cloying. It was an arousing scent to be sure, and by far weaker than anything he had experienced in the past. A frown covered his face before he leaned back into his Cousin and replied;

“Keep your pants on Cousin, he's getting away. Go wide I'm going to grab him. We'll need to exit out the back alley.”

Beatrix moved off of him nearly bumping into a nearby patient. A quick apology was muttered before she seemed to take even breathes and nodded. She quickly moved down a side hallway as Seth carefully moved after his target. Slipping by people he ventured deeper into the hospital. He kept his ears oepn, listening to every moan of agony, every muttered prayer to a god that probably was too busy with real work to care about the plight of a single diseased worshipper. Finally he heard it, soft and mumbled, only the occasional word reaching him;

“...looking for her....should have....”

He moved beside the door even as he heard the conversation low and to the point; “I don't think he knows yet, but how long before we get caught? We need to leave with her now!”

Seth looked about the area only to find a few bottles labeled Ether and rags clean and folded up on a nearby cart. Peaking around the corner he saw that his target was hunched in a chair, something going on the table nearby. His lip curled in a sneer before he grabbed a rag, carefully uncorking a bottle and pouring a healthy dose of the contents onto the rag. He felt a bit light headed just holding the rag and was sure it was correct. Carefully sneaking up on his target a floorboard creaked causing the man to turn in his chair.

“What are you doing here?!” Fear hidden by indignation filtered into his voice.

Seth smiled before he spoke up, “Hey this rag is pretty wet, I'm getting light headed holding it. I was just wondering, does this smell like ether?” The rag was shoved in the man's face, causing him to go wide eyed as he breathed in deep the fumes. His victim's eyes rolled into the back of the skull, even before the form started to sag. Seth reached out to catch him before the illusion dropped and his eyes widened. “Son of a whore...”

The figure that was resting against him was nude, its form slender and almost inviting. Were it not for the fact Seth was decidedly straight he would have called the man attractive. Twin wings sprouted from his back. He looked upon the form, the curly black air, the tanned skin and nude form. Seth had only heard of them, though he was technically the lover of one of their royalty. It made sense now, the note in hind sight. Carefully tilting the man back Beatrix entered the room before she shook her head.

“What the hell did you uncover?”

“I think Skie's family is trying to kill her.”

“No shit...”

“Stop giving me sass and help me smuggle him out the back. We need to get him somewhere, tie the cloth around his face so we get some more time.”

[Skie and Avery]

The figure came from the blizzard like a leviathan rising from the waves. It was as hard to tell how long she’d been walking as it was to move her legs in the ever-deepening drift. Snow caked her legs, soaking into her boots and pants until her feet were nothing but blocks of ice. Now her steps slowed to a halt as someone big loomed ahead. The figure was taller than anyone she’d ever seen before, and shrouded in furs. She thought she could make out a dark face somewhere through the layers of hoods and scarves, peeking with a measuring glance.

“Hello?” she called, and she couldn’t help but feel that the wind had taken her words and flung them to the skies where they would be scattered and never known. Another shriek of wind brought a sheaf of snowflakes that blinded her and when it had passed, she stared at the empty space the brute had been standing.

Aww, I liked it better. the wind whispered.

“What? Who’s there?” Skie yelled into the storm. She’d been sure she’d heard someone, though the howling around her had nearly blocked it out. Stumbling through a drift where she’d thought she’d seen the beast of a man, Skie pulled her feet high til her knees threatened to hit her chest and began to bound through the snow, moving with as much grace as she could muster cuddled into the wool blankets. As the movements seemed less foreign, the snow less of a pull against her feet, she sped up. If only she could run faster than the storm, she might be able to find a way out, she thought. Just when she thought she might have had a chance to push free of the snowbank, her world exploded with pain.

Stars danced in front of her eyes, white lights shooting through her head as her shoulder and face took the full brunt of the hit. She stumbled back and collapsed in the snow, holding her nose. It felt like it would fall off, aching just where the top ridge met with her forehead. Swearing shrilly into her hands, it almost felt as if she were being laughed at. Before her, she could see another cliff face, rising up as the last. Had the cliff turned or did she wander back to where she’d been? Miserably, Skie tried to peer and see how far the cliff went up. The summit disappeared into the loving arms of snow and bright cloud ahead. She doubted she could climb it, especially in these conditions. Rising to her feet and brushing the snow from her pants as best she could, Skie turned to be met almost immediately with the dark form she’d seen before.

The girl stuttered, trying to ask a million questions at once. Where was she? Who had left her here? Was this person involved? Were they here to harm or help? Before she could ask a single one, the wind came and ripped away the blanket from her shoulders. She turned in time to watch it born on the winds, leaving with a howl, a grey bird flapping too fast to think about running after. Black hair whipped around her face, blinding her in punishment for letting her only source of warmth run free. She clutched her arms and shrank down against the wind, turning once again to the man whose carnelian eyes had been watching her soullessly. When she turned back, she was alone with only the same haunting chuckle echoing across the arctic valley.

[Dissinger]

“He's awake.”

Words spoken Seth moved across the room. Tied down to a table was the Moontae, his hands tied with a rope that wrapped around to the legs his own were fastened to. The result forced him to bend over the table, leaving his wings exposed to the air as he rested on the table. His arms stretched forth in supplication to some unknown god.

Seth meanwhile was busy looking over papers that he grabbed from Skie's apartment. He seemed to not even pay attention to the uttered words, causing Beatrix to shift in preparation to repeat herself before Seth finally set them down. He looked up at his cousin before he said, “Tell Garret and Rachel to take a walk. They don't need to dirty their hands with this.”

Beatrix nodded as she left the room.

The safe house was a rather open area. Purchased by the Lavinian Thief's Guild, it was an old warehouse in one of the more rundown portions of Ettermire. While not as comfortable as an Inn, it served a second purpose. It was relatively quiet when they were dealing with situations such as this. Dust clung to most things as a second skin, which is why the crates left behind were covered in a burlap tarp. Moving about the table the creature spoke, its accented Tradespeak a husky tone, “I never figured someone with her would be into rough foreplay.”

Beatrix came back in and nodded her head before seth casually took a blade out of his holster. The being looked up at the Demon as he spoke up, “Threats mean nothing to one such as we. You cannot intimidate-”

The pommel smashed into one of the hands forcing it flat against the table. The man hissed in pain before the blade casually flipped over the hand, and sunk point first into the back, sinking until it hit wood. A screech of agony ripped through the warehouse as blood flowed from the wound and over his hand. Seth merely looked passively down at the display. The man spasmed causing the blade to saw in it more and further setting his nerves on fire. Seth finally grabbed the ring of the lungpopper and carefully sawed it before pulling it out of the man's hand. Blood had begun to pool on the table before he said, “There, we have established a truth. Don't bluff, nor do I lie. If you try to tell me how this will go again, I will tear your wings off. You aren't the first winged freak I've done it to, nor will you be the last.”

Beatrix shook her head as she looked at the man and circled the table, “I suppose I would be the good guard, but with an intro like that its hard not to be. Where is she?”

“My hand!” The Moontae cried before she sighed.

“Yes, I get it. He mutilated your hand, it hurts, but if you don't work with me, well...” Her hand casually rotated as she left the threat hanging in the air. She then grabbed a stool and sat at the end of the table casually looking at her nails, “We are not your normal run of the mill street toughs. See, we are predators. That's how we knew you were lying when we asked you about Sariya. It wasn't that you were bad at lying, far as I can tell you are a silver tongued devil, could have potentially talked me into a dinner and drinks. Pardon the pun...”

The man looked up at her confused. Seth merely watched and waited the lungpopper sitting on the table near the moontae. When the incubus looked upon it Seth smirked, “Go ahead, grab it. See what happens.”

“Don't, he'll gut you before you've sawed halfway through the ropes. Eyes over here...” fingers snapped catching the man's attention as she leaned forward on the table. She then continued, “We are barely human, much like you. We're predators, and you ran, like prey. The fact that you are a winged naked man, instead of a drow doctor speaks volumes for why. Where is she?”

“Mikhail would kill me if I told you,” He began.

Seth slammed the pommel into the injured hand again before he spoke, “I'll do it if you don't.”

The demonoid bit down on his anguished cry before he managed, “We were just supposed to watch. I told him this was a bad idea!”

Beatrix raised an eyebrow as she spoke, “Mikhail ordered this. Why?”

“The king wanted his sister watched. She has been removed from the beauty, but the King was afraid she might seek vengeance for that,” The man confessed. Beatrix looked to Seth before he answered;

“Skie is, or rather was, a member of the royalty. I got that much out of her. I guess she survived something she shouldn't have.”

“No one survives the purge, it tears out every ounce that marks them as one of us, we even stole her wing!”

“You harp about wings, whats the big deal!?” Seth spat.

Beatrix looked harshly at Seth, even while the Moontae managed, “They are our lively hood. Without your wings you aren't alive, many die when the wings are removed.”

Seth carefully grabbed a wing before he said menacingly, “You're going to tell me where she is. I know you know. If you don't I will tear this wing off, and ask again. If you still don't I will take the other one.”

Beatrix sighed as she leaned bored against the table. The man seemed to mutter things to himself before she slapped the table, “Listen, naked guy, out loud or not at all.”

“I'm a dead man!”

Seth muttered something under his breath even as an ax began to form in his hand. With a growl he grabbed the wing forcing it away from the man's body before the ax was brought down in a cleaving blow. The wing stood no chance as the cartilage and semi rigid bone was hewn into. The ax stopped a few inches in, before Seth sawed it out and hacked again. The moontae sobbed in agony as the operation was done. Task accomplished the wing was tossed on the table in front of the man, “Location, now. Last chance.”

“She's in this area! There's a warehouse on the river. We were planning on dumping the body in the water and taking a boat out of town when they were done!”

Seth nodded, looking at the man before he roughly grabbed the man's hair and forced the head back to stare him in the eye, “You tell your King, that if he wants to know what a real demon is, keep tormenting his sister like this. I don't care who he thinks he is, he will be butting heads with me if he keeps this up, and I don't take kindly to it.”

The man looked at him wide eyed before Seth slammed a knife down cutting the rope. Beatrix rose moving after him before she poke, “Did you have to remove it? I'm sure the damage would have been enough.”

“I have a lot of repressed anger, its no longer repressed.”

[Skie and Avery]

The quaking of her shoulders wouldn’t be stopped, no matter how tightly she held them. The cold bit in, and as she walked she expected to go numb, but it never happened. It felt as if she were being caressed by tendrils of ice, a haunted lover who was all too thorough as they explored every inch of her exposed skin. She’d long reached back and loosened her hair from where it had been held back at the nape of her neck, hoping the black strands would offer her ears and neck some promise of warmth. Instead, they only furthered to obscure her vision as she wandered the stormy wasteland. She’d been turned around chasing the figure so many times, she wasn’t even sure where to begin to find her way back to the small cabin she’d started at.

Somewhere in all the mess of flurry and wind, something else was creeping into her senses. Skie had stopped moving and crouched down when she first smelled it. On the wind, a heady scent floated by, one that she had known well. After all, it once came from her own body. The captivating smell of her kind was the same as the pollen of the red Soema flowers in Concordia. Perfumes made from the pollen of the plant were known to bring people to their knees, begging to be touched, to be loved.

At first the scent was just enough to warm her, make her think of the green grass and lush treecover of Concordia, of children playing in the flowers, of glittering wings and a place that felt like home. As she breathed it in, letting the florals cloud her memory, her body started to flush. Between her legs, her muscles tightened, her hips wiggling as a need grew uncomfortable. Her face as red as a beet, she started moving faster. Her run was desperate, pursued incessantly by the intoxicating scent of her childhood and her mother’s people.

Somewhere in her head she wondered, was this the work of the Moontae? Had her brother been the one to make sure that she was dumped somewhere she was ill prepared to live? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d left her for dead, and it wasn’t much less than she deserved. As she ran, guilt trailed hot on her heels, another dog to hunt her down. Eventually, the snow began to thin, and before her she could see that she was coming to a shoreline with the permafrost giving way to a rocky end, barraged by grey waves.

…strange seeing her run… empty room.

“What?” she called, breath ragged, the vapor hanging in the air. The voice she had heard before was there again. Through the dizzying pheromones, the surge of cold and nostalgia, Skie was too drunk to place it. Finally she staggered out of the snow and onto the pebbled coast. The wind seemed to die all at once, as if it were a long sigh finally finished. It wasn’t right, and she knew it.

Just get it over with. This voice was strong, cutting through the air as if he were standing over her shoulder. If Skie concentrated she was sure she could feel eyes on her, but when she whirled, heels digging into the gravel, she was alone. Unease pressed down, and she found herself staggering closer to the tide. The cold water roared up, feet from where she stood. Where was the spray? Her thoughts began to race. Nothing about this tundra had seemed right, and by all counts she should be ice herself by now.

The blocks were falling into place. She wasn’t sure where she was, but surely it wasn’t the arctic landscape that it promised. The waves continued to roar, but between the crash and pull against the beach, she listened to the voices that slipped through from the other side.

We’ll make it an accident?

Her accident was coming to Ettermire. He’ll never know, and then he’ll be free of her spell.

Despite the fire burning in her body, Skie turned her mind to the voice. She would bend his words around her and use it as a tether to reality, she decided. She didn’t have much experience with illusion being used against her, but she’d wielded it as her own weapon enough to know that willpower was the best shield. Just as the waves receded and gave way to the flickering image of a blank wall, a concrete floor, and pale light pouring in from overhead skylights, a dark movement caught her eye from the side. Before she turned pain exploded in her head, and she fell to her knees. Once more she was under the thrall of illusion, the grey and blue pebbles beneath her cheek cold and unyielding as she held her side. Blood bubbled up between her fingers and through cries of anger and pain she looked to see a gash along her ribs. Her skin and flesh hung open and she did her best to press it back while she crawled away from an assailant she couldn’t see.

She stopped when she collided with a pair of legs. Suddenly, what had been lonely beach wrapped over the reality of an empty warehouse was now the bottom half of a person. At first she looked up to see the brown eyed stranger she’d chased through the snow. He was smaller now, not the megalith that had called to her from the swirl of white. His eyes were still filled with the same unholy light, but this time he leaned down and gathered mass of black tresses in his fist and hauled the swordswoman up by the scalp. Hissing, Skie let go of her wound, and let bloodied fingers pull at his grip, though it only served to slather her hair and his fist in gore.

As the beast pulled her to him, his breath hot on her face, she smelled it again - the scent that was like a rose, if only a rose were made of liquid sex. Heart racing in her throat, Skie bit down on her bottom lip and glared into the face of her captor. As the snow eventually melts to the warmth of spring, his illusions dropped. Those engaging brown eyes had been real all along, thick red curls falling softly around his face. She could see the sharp teeth in his smile, just barely too sharp to be human, much like her own. The wings on his back glittered in the soft light, and stretched to envelop them. As she was held to him by the pain of her pulled hair and the pleasure of a warm embrace, she fought to find the words. Finally they came.

“Tell Avery he is a fool and he will regret this.” Light simply danced in the demon’s eyes and he wrenched her head back so that she stared at the clouds moving slowly across the sky through the skylights. Another hand reached up and grabbed her chin. She’d never seen the demon behind her, but now she could feel his forehead press gently against the back of her skull. His other hand came around and brought a small blade to her throat.

“His highness, your royal brother had nothing to do with this,” This was the strong voice she’d heard before, urging her end. “Our king will cry when he hears that Ettermire has claimed your life. But after his tears have fallen, he will never need cry again and then he truly can lead the Beauty, stripped of distraction.”

Skie closed her eyes, gasping to breathe despite the grip of fear squeezing her lungs, and prepared for death.

[Dissinger]

The Moontae seemed prepared to finish the job as they closed in on Skie Dan Sabriel. It was a hopeless situation that all who would witness could only shake their heads at the tragedy. A legend in rising was snuffed before her star had ascended, slain before it's time. She waited for the death that would surely come, a death of a thousand passions, tearing away who she was and leaving her broken, beaten, and ravaged to death.

Her eyes remained shut that was until a loud crash erupted through the empty warehouse. A riderless wagon had careened into the doors of the place, shoving them wide open with hardly an effort, even as the wood splintered and shattered about the figure that rolled with the collision and came up to his feet. He casually dusted himself off before looking at himself, much to the awe of the Moontae gathered about Skie.

“Who in the hell are you!?”

“You must be Mikhail, your buddy from the clinic was very forthcoming about you. Something about small dick to go with smaller brains...” It was at that moment Seth saw the blade at Skie's throat. He raised an eyebrow before he shouted out, “You alright there Skie?”

“Been better,” Came the reply. He smiled at the response, pretty sure it was adrenaline fueled, he could almost taste the fear that empowered her voice to speak. All this happened while the man with the knife looked at the newcomer with a look of confusion that bordered on awe at the sheer lunacy.

“You realize I have a knife to her throat and that I could kill her at any time?” The moontae who Seth had pegged for Mikhail finally stammered.

“You realize that her life is the only thing keeping me from splattering your blood on the walls of this place and calling it a night? I mean, yeah her dying would really put a drag on the whole knight in shining armor gig I got going here, but really I'm more a dark knight. You win some you lose some, but I warn you, I am a very, very, very poor loser...” Seth countered with a smile. Three figures moved through the rubble that was the gateway gingerly, almost wondering what the hell was going on themselves.

If Mikhail had a counterpoint it was lost in the cries of the moontae about him finally being shaken from their shocked stupor to act. The two with her seemed to step forward leaving Mikhail to the hostage as they spread their wings agitated. Seth was about to reach for a knife before he felt a slender hand on his, “This ones on the house love, get Mikhail.”

Seth almost laughed at the two Moontae closing wit Beatrix Dahlios. The girl could handle crowds far easier than Seth, she almost relied on them for her fighting style. Seth had no doubt that his cousin had them well in hand. Cracking his neck he sighed as he looked at the leader, “So, you going to let her go yet?”

“Surrender or she dies,” The words were laced with venom, almost a carnal hatred passing through lips to espouse undying loathing of the recipient.

“Boring, don't you know the basics Mikhail? If you have to resort to a hostage situation, you've already lost. Just let her go, and take your beating like a man, you keep annoying me and well, I'm the Lavinian Demon, you do the math,” Seth responded.

“Never heard of you!”

Seth's mouth opened and shut a few times before he frowned, “Really? I'm the Lavinian Demon, everyone's heard of me!”

“So you got a fancy nickname? That's cool, my little brother has one too...”

“Beatrix, back me up here?”

“I'm a little busy, Cousin,” The frustrated words wound through tight lips as Beatrix continued her dance with the Moontae about her. Seth ignored her to stare dumbfounded at the man holding Skie hostage. Who didn't know about the Lavinian Demon? It was almost awkward not knowing how to proceed, did he kill the guy? Gut him and leave him for dead? How was he going to make it clear that he was something scary that you didn't fuck with? “Seth, a little focus here!” Beatrix finally shouted. It pierced through his skull that he was doing a hostage negotiation and shook his head.

“Kill her,” He finally stated. Skie's eyes widened in betrayal. The Moontae holding her seemed to tense, almost following the command but stopped himself. “That's right, you finally understand, you know jack shit about me. You kill her and you might as well sign your death warrant, I'll smash you into pieces so small even other sex demons can't use them for toys...”

“What are you offering?”

“I'm offering a clean death, or the dirty fun kind of death that only satisfies one of us...”

“I know much about dirty fun, are you sure you don't want to partake in some of mine?” The air in the room seemed to heat up, and Seth could swear he was feeling his heart skip a beat at those words. Eyes narrowed watching the man even as his hand subtly twitched. The Moontae smiled as he spoke, “That's right, I can see it in you, unfulfilled hungers, for how long? Days, perhaps it was weeks? Maybe its been a few months, eating away at you, a loneliness that only baring your soul to another could resolve.”

“Keep the air clean you freak,” Seth hissed.

Mikhail seemed to smile at those words before he continued, “You've never had fun with another man before, have you? It's teasing you, at the edge of your mind, the idea that it's technically not cheating. You aren't rutting with another woman, your chosen mate can't get mad...”

“Keep your mouth running beast, I'll have my knife down that throat soon enough...”

“Oh, a knife? Not perhaps your sword?”

Seth's hand twitched again, the innuendo and the scent of pleasure filling him. It was an intoxicating cocktail, one he had experienced once before. The last time had killed him, yet it eroded his willpower and easily sneaked past his high pain tolerance. He was a being of pain, when pleasure offered itself, he was like a beast indulging for the first time in ages. He steadied his breathing even as Mikhail smiled.

Mikhail carefully pushed Skie to the ground before he spoke up, “It's simple, take what you want, you know I couldn't stop you if you tried. It tastes so much sweeter when they resist and still fail...” A foot pinned her by her lower back even as Seth seemed to rub his eyes tiredly, almost wishing away the intoxicating fog. He stumbled forward a step, then another, feeling his breathing coming forth in panicked spurts. “Yes, that's it, give in to your passions...”

A hand went to his waist, and Mikhail smiled, seeing the sword on the man's hip. Surely this was a boon, the man was about to disarm himself, and then Mikhail would have won, dosing him on so much pleasure and pheromones to destroy who he was. Seth stumbled another step, before with resolution the sword belt fell from his hip and clattered to the floor. An awkward shuffle moved it close to Skie's hand even as he moved closer to Mikhail. A shuddering breath of restraint keeping his distance.

[Skie and Avery]

“Oh Seth,” she sighed, her groan more sexual than defeated. The sword on the floor, she felt that surely they were doomed now. Still, she thought, I could think of worse ways to go. She gasped, breathing more of the fragrant pheromones in the air, her hips wiggling as much they could beneath the bare foot pinning her down. Her head was filled with visions of the Lavinian demon attacking her, their clothes strewn around them even as they died in a tumble of feral lust. If she could be killed in his arms…

What the everloving fuck?

Biting hard on her bottom lip, the Starslayer’s daughter turned her head buried her face in the sleeve of her shirt. She pulled a deep breath, focusing on the smell of cotton, soap, and sweat. The rush of oxygen untainted by aphrodesiacs was almost intoxicating in itself. She let herself breathe, grounding her head even as she felt like she may float away. Her sword had been shoved within reach. As Seth stepped closer, she glanced at him, meeting his eyes and grinned before she moved.

The rush of sex in her head was almost enough to mask the pain along her ribcage as she snaked to the side, stretching out an arm until she had the haft of her father’s blade in her hand. As she ripped it towards her, it flew from the scabbard, the holster and belt flinging across the warehouse floor. Mikhail was a fool, too focused on Seth to feel the woman beneath his set was a threat. With a hard roll to the side, Skie was free.

The incubus hissed, spinning to look at his prize, but Skie had already risen to a knee, and the steel sword that slew Xem’Zund the first time was already making an arc. The blade bit deep into the side of his knee and dug in, the crunch and crackle of hewn bone and cartilage all but extinguished in the wake of pained screaming. A rush of blood gushed around her blade and splattered against her pants, a warm contrast to the illusion of the cold soak of snow in her boots that was now fading away to nothing. She pulled back, irritated at how difficult it was to free her sword from the knee, outright enraged at how difficult it was to use the arm over her wounded side. That rage was easy to channel and despite the flash of agony she lifted her sword and struck.

Mikhail was no warrior. Avery wouldn’t send one of his precious few soldiers to deliver a simple package. He was stark still, staring at her with bronze eyes full of fear. If Skie was moved to hesitate, it was in a second too short for the eye and her blade slid effortlessly through his throat. Almost in spite, she twisted and jerked, ripping open the alabaster flesh in a spill of claret. Mikhail fell, and for a moment Skie had caught him in her arms. His shuddering form almost bore her down, but she had been rising to her feet as he collapsed. In the moment she twisted to throw him to the floor, her nose buried into black curls, the warmth of his open throat against her collar. Even in death, he bled the scent of the Soema.

She had to stop herself from grabbing at her body when the demon had been thrown away. Mikhail’s partner had swooped away towards the married thieves still near the wagon, and though the rage of battle roared around them, Skie had to stop for breath. She stood for a moment, holding her sword in one hand, her side in the other and watched her thieving friend as he fought against the effects of the Moontae’s trademark magic. Her feet moved, boots stamping across the slate floor and before she realized it she’d thrown herself against his chest, her arms encircling his ribs.

“Shu Seth. Took you long enough.” She wanted to melt against him, sighing into his neck and burn away. Instead she gritted her teeth. Her feelings were being tempered and turned by the pheromones in the air. It was a bitch feeling so out of control of her actions, anxiety mixed with the lust like a bad chaser. “Can I just say I’m sorry I ever did this to you? Fuck this is awful.”

Pulling away so that she could stare at his stormy gaze, she worked hard to ignore the hard line of his mouth and the way she knew it would yield to hers if she kissed him. Her hips pressed against his, a veritable laundry list of hard things just dying to yield to her were forming in her head. A ragged growl from Beatrix somewhere nearby pulled her from the reverie.

“Let’s clean this vith’ez place out.”

[Dissinger]

Brown locks flew wildly about the head of the demon when he shook it and stood up straight, as if nothing had happened at all. He looked about the area and saw his cousin slicing up the two Moontae she had been sent and let out a soft snort of mirth. They really weren't fighters and she was slowly tearing them apart. It wasn't even a contest for the woman who had been a gladiator in Haven's fighting pits.

“And you kiss your mother with that mouth,” Seth jested hearing the curse words in the Drow language. She raised an eyebrow at that before he shrugged, “What? The pheromones? You hit me with a much more concentrated dose of it. What he was pumping? That's like drinking a normal beer after a lifetime of Lavinian Ale, so watery you could hardly call it beer. I'd need to drink an entire keg to get the same amount of drunk as I would off a handful of Ales.”

Beatrix seemed to be heaving from the exertion and Seth sighed, seeing the sadistic side of Beatrix indulging in the moment's lust. He carefully patted Skie on the shoulder and pointed at his cousin before he continued, “She's a teetotaler. Only reason she's fighting rather than fucking is they're almost the same thing to her...”

Skie looked at him confused and he cut her off, “Fighting gives her the better climax...don't ask how I know that...”

Skie nodded as she moved to protect Garret and Rachel, who had mysteriously gone quiet. Seth sighed looking upon the room about him before he saw a group of Moontae rush into the room from an adjacent area. A groan left his lips before he shook his head and sighed, “Looks like I tempted fate, here comes the keg of beer now...”

Karel...need room to fight...

The voice of the changeling amulet echoed in his mind, a wry note in the tonality, Oh? Afraid you might go head over heels for the girl if you get too much?

Now's not the time old man. I just need reach, can you do that for me?

Sure.

Quicksilver erupted from his wrist, splashing onto the stone below his feet. The sounds of metal upon metal began to chime into the still air of the room the liquid metal forming links, each in a chain about twelve feet long. Seth gripped the forming chains, while another slid across his shoulders and fell to the ground on his other side. The left gauntlet carefully coiled a bit of the chain forming on that side before he let a sadistic grin cross his face. He raised his voice to the party crashers, “Dance card's empty boys, who's up first?”

They seemed to be puzzled by the forthright challenge, and so the Demon raised a hand and carefully beckoned them to come at him before he continued, "Don't go soft on me now, I got a lot more anger to work out, and you stupid fuckers seem just what the doctor ordered!" Again the Moontae seemed put off by the comment and so Seth shook his head and charged into them, "For the love of the thayne, how do you people even protect yourselves when you act so fucking dumb..."

[Skie and Avery]

Her knees shook, sweat pouring from her brow when she rounded the shattered remains of the wagon and found the Hawk and Sparrow tangled together on the floor. She wasn’t sure if it was the blood she’d lost or the lust, but for a moment watching them was dizzying. Their clothes had barely been removed, the sounds of violence barely masking their sighs and groans. The temptation to join them was almost too great, but there were demons slinking away from the main group, focused on the lovers. They had familiar faces, but unfamiliar blades in their hands.

The two women were twins, a perfect match of golden hair, green eyes, and a spattering of freckles across their cheeks. Their shapely forms were less suited for sneaking, though they crouched low as they snaked towards Garret and Rachel. Skie clenched her teeth together, and moved to intercept. As she slid into the space between, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two, she took a deep breath against her better judgement. The Soema-laced scent of the Beauty rocked her, almost taking her out. She hated not being immune anymore; she especially hated what that meant to her soul.

“Traitor,” one of the twins hissed. The word was a weapon. The pheromones reached deep and pulled memories from her childhood, and lazy days spent in a naked pile with the girls, soaking up the Concordian sunshine. They’d always been closer to Avery than to Skie, but one of the twins, Melitsiel had been the first lover Skie had known. She could almost remember the way the grass felt under her back when Mel had…

Blinking, Skie forced out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Go home, Mel.” She said, her voice hard, the tone flat. Why did it have to come to this? Hadn’t they loved one another? Melitsiel had been the only person to understand the bond between twins, why couldn’t she understand now that the chasm between Avery and herself could only be closed or widened by each other?

“Oh we will,” her sister answered. “Right after we do what should have been done months ago. Our king may have shown you undeserved mercy, but we will not.” Skie saw her claws snake out from under the soft human-like nails that hid them. Bless her soul, Skie thought. They have no idea, none of them have any idea.

“My brother wouldn’t know mercy if it slapped him upside the head.” Skie answered and held her sword at the ready. “I guess he and I are more alike than you’d think.”

They scoffed, and Skie marked it as the last mistake the blonde beauties would ever make. They moved at the same time. Skie had been ready and cleaved forward, one fell swoop striking true and eviscerating Melitsiel. The demoness pressed her hands to her belly, trying and failing to keep her cuts within as she sank to her knees. Merrin screamed with rage and barreled into the swordswoman, tears in her eyes. Skie fell back, her sword falling from her hand and they tumbled across the floor.

Claws struck at her face, opening gashes along one cheek. Skie struggled, trying to shove her away, to get her knee between their bodies so that she could kick. They were a tangle of flying hands and stifled screams. Merrin pressed in close, her forehead slamming against Skie’s.

“You fucking soulless bitch,” Merrin growled. “You’re just like your useless human father. No lovers leave your wake alive.”

Something bubbled up inside of her. It felt red and hot, a burning ember in a distant memory. Suddenly it came to her. She’d felt this before, in Corone. The first time she’d met Seth Dahlios, they’d clashed and when she’d wrought him under her spell and crashed her lips into his, the Starslayer’s Curse had been brought to life. The Wrath she’d felt in his soul then had terrified her, her horror enough to reject his soul then. Now that ghost was haunting her, and she stood on the other side of such rage.

The starlight began to glow in indigo-stained eyes. Her gaze was the constellations above, dazzled on a cloudless night sky. “You’re next,” she whispered and brought her lips to meet Merrin’s. They were as full as her sister’s, and Skie remembered what she’d felt as her hands had traced the curves of Mel’s body so many years ago. The softness of her breasts had been heaven, and Skie had fallen asleep pressed against them many times. The magic of the Beauty was fuelled with love, her mother had told her when she was young.

The love she remembered once would have given her power to pour pheromones from her skin. Now, where once the magic had sat, she was empty. The void called, and it demanded to be filled. The starfield in her eyes erupted as a new light was born. Skie reached with her mind, picking at the strands of magic laying quietly. They didn’t feel like the Beauty. This was something more.

Merrin gasped and suddered, looking down on the woman bleeding beneath her in horror. Before she could speak, she began to scream. It was high and keening, a pain that doubled upon itself sevenfold as she writhed. Upon her back, the sparkling black wings that marked her demonic nature were pulsing. They began to shine with an inner light, glowing softly as the skin stretched along them turned from black to a dull grey. As surely as the millennia cut away the canyons, her wings began to disintegrate. The dull flesh fell away as if it were made of ash, leaving on the bones of her wings upon her back and even they were cracked and broken.

The demoness wasn’t concerned with her wings. Her claws were ripping down her own face now, carving into her cheeks as she continued to scream. Skie stared, her eyes wide, her mouth dropping open in dread. As her eyes flashed from the decaying wings to the blonde’s pained face, blood dripping down her chin onto Skie’s belly, she slowly came to understand what was going on. A pang of sympathy moved through her. She remembered this pain too well.

“Welcome to humanity,” She leaned to the side, straining and reached her sword from where it had fallen. It was still coated in Mel’s blood, and as she plunged the blade into Merrin’s chest, she couldn’t help but think how bitter it tasted to create a star only to snuff it out.

[Dissinger]

Chain met flesh, tearing it asunder. A cry of rage filled the warehouse as the Demon was unleashed upon the Moontae. Clawed hands gripped at him only to be violently rebuked, by delyn or bone, fist meeting face and chain meeting flesh where it could. Vicious spikes and barbs were clogged with the patches of skin that came with them, leaving no less than three dead in the wake of his venting of rage. They all backed off from the demon, surprised by the ferocity of the assault and taking stock of the cuts and gashes caused by the chains.

A man such as him should have been devolved into a sexual toy at this point, used and using them to fulfill the deepest of carnal desires. The animal that should have taken over was one of Lust, not Wrath. He stood in the midst of them, a circling pack of wolves around a wounded bear, who's heart seemed to beat loudly in their ears. A heaving breath brought cool air, bringing more pheromones into his system than it knew what to do with them, he should be a gibbering wreck mewling for pleasure and in utter lust.

He heard boot steps and let a twisted grin light up his face looking upon the sheep he was slaughtering. Gone was any shred of decency or morality. The chain steadily began to melt slowly coalescing into the form of a band on his wrist. A knife casually twirled about his hand, dancing and twisting about his hand before it came to a stop, “About time you finished your play date. That trick with the wings though, and I thought I was cruel for ripping off one...”

“Tell me you didn't do that Seth!” The words were thrown at the demon who spied a look of disgust on the creatures before him. A shuddering breath left his lips before he retorted;

“Skie Dan Sabriel, I'm about to hit that spot where the only thing I want to do is kill. I will kill and kill and kill, trying to sate a hunger that I long since let go unfed. I will become every bit of my namesake for the sake of one Thayne be damned soul. The last thing I want to hear out of you is an admonishment for me doing what a demon does. I cannot hold myself back from killing anymore than they could hold themselves back from fucking a willing victim to death.”

“Seth-”

“Shut up Skie, I don't need your world interrupting me in mine...” One last shuddering breath echoed in the room before he tensed and suddenly went slack. The Moontae seemed to see a moment of weakness and attacked, rushing in hoping to kill the man when his wounds actually affected him. A dark smile graced his lips when the blade was joined by a second, then a third, a fourth entering the fray as he began the art of death. Skie seeing the opening took to cutting down others that entered headlong into the fray, catching one off guard and splitting him crotch to sternum. The man grabbed for guts even while the juggling act began in earnest, going from knives in the air to knives in flesh. Blade was stabbed into victim before another was stabbed into a second. A third met one in his throat and fell to a knee before the fourth sunk into the chest of another.

So quick had the kills come that when they were down to one the man backed away slowly. Seth's head tilted to the side, grabbing the hilt of the knife in the throat and ripping it out, blood splashing on the cement as he stalked towards the panicked prey. Skie saw Seth had purposefully maimed his targets, leaving them to die slow deaths even as Seth moved after the other, a gauntlet clad hand smearing blood on his forehead and carefully brushed hair from those stone gray eyes. Not a single spark of life lit them up when he stared down the face of the final one.

She held up her hands in fear begging him to let her go. She pleaded, offering anything for her life as boot steps were her only reply. The head tilted to the other way, her wings bumping against the back wall of the warehouse even as Beatrix finished off the final combatant. She looked upon her cousin and let loose a low string of curses and carefully moved to Skie, “He's gone, he's fucking gone. Don't get his attention right now, I'll try to drop him so he can recover.”

“What do you mean he's gone?”

“He gripped magic, whether he even recognizes it or not, until it runs it's course he's going to be like that,” She replied truthfully. A blade was plucked from the small of her back before she said, “He's going to butcher the last one if I don't interfere.”

“Save her, someone needs to tell my brother what happened here...”

Beatrix nodded before she whistled loudly. Seth stopped looking over his shoulder at his Cousin. A moment of recognition registered on his face, before the knife came to life in his hands. He growled, “What do you want?”

“It's over Cousin, we need her alive,” Beatrix offered.

“Useless logic, if we silence her he will believe that they just aren't replying and assume all is according to plan. If she goes back, he will send more, perhaps even warriors, though I find the concept of a Moontae Warrior pitiful,” Seth countered.

“It's what Skie-”

“Skie lost a right to say what happens to her people when her people threw her out.”

Brutal, cold, detached, and enraged. He was a monster of anger seeking vengeance for any perceived slight. Shaking her head Beatrix said, “I can't let you do that Cousin. Step down or I will make you.”

“Make me?” A wry tone entered his voice as he turned his back to the moontae woman. “You can't even make a bed, let alone force me to do anything.” He took a step towards the estranged cousin as she walked forward to meet the onslaught. Her blade was held casually in a hand between two fingers. Her eyes were the same stony gray offering warmth and compassion before she spoke;

“They attacked her, not you. You have no say on the punishment for this one. You're merely looking for something to sate your blood lust on. Now, be a good boy and put the damn knives away.”

Blade continued to twirl while Beatrix stood relaxed, her knife at the ready. Her eyes were on the dagger in Seth's hand never leaving it before it came to a halt, and he carefully sheathed it. She raised an eyebrow at the act before he shrugged, “Be glad I promised not to kill family anymore.” She nodded carefully sheathing her blade at the small of her back. Beatrix moved carefully toward him and went wide eyed when a gauntlet clad fist collided with her chin sending her to the ground, “Doesn't mean I won't hurt you for pulling that stunt.”

He blinked a bit of life returning to his eyes before he looked upon Skie, “She's yours kill her, fuck her, I could give a rat's ass.”

[Skie and Avery]

“Fuck her? Really?” Skie hissed as she stepped forward. “Mal’ai, I don’t want her. But you’re right.” She stepped forward and looked on the demon cowering before them with contempt. As the demons had fallen, the pheromones slowly started to dissipate, melting away as they were swept out. Her senses were returning to her, along with her mind. She narrowed her eyes and stood between the Lavinians and the Moontae, staring down at the winged Beauty.

“These aren’t my people anymore.”

She moved, the force of her weight behind her as she struck. Her sword hit neck, and cleaved through. A beautiful face rolled across the stone floor, leaving a garnet trail in its wake. For a moment, Skie was reminded of a scene from her childhood, her own mother’s head rolling through the grass. Blinking, she banished the memory and focused in on the wall of the warehouse, marked with a bloody spray that dribbled and dripped towards the floor. She wasn’t part of the Beauty anymore, but she wasn’t part of humanity – not really.

A wave of fatigue rushed over her. Her bones felt like lead, her body a burden. Taking a ragged breath, Skie turned around and looked back and forth between Seth, and Beatrix who had gotten to her feet, rubbing at her aching jaw. She hated seeing him like this, mostly because it made her wonder if her memories could be trusted. When she’d looked into his soul those years ago, beneath the tempest of Wrath had been sparks of goodness shining through the clouds. Were they still there, or had they been extinguished along his way? She had to believe they were, though. After all, he had taken the time to find her call for help. She had summoned the demon here, so she had no right to be angry with him for appearing in hellfire and brimstone.

She needed to clean her sword. She needed to stitch her side. “I need a drink,” she sighed. She laid the flat of her blade against her thigh and drew it, wiping the blood onto her pants. It did a well enough job and she’d clean the blade properly once she got home. She picked her way over bodies strewn across the floor until she’d retrieved her scabbard, sliding it off Seth’s belt and tossing the leather strap towards him.

A deep breath helped center her, and she gestured for Seth to come closer. “Come on. I owe you all a round or three. It won’t be Lavinian ale but maybe we can find something stronger than water.”

[Dissinger]

“Sure, whatever,” Seth muttered as he walked past the coupling duo of Garret and Rachel. He didn't even say anything as he walked by, letting them get it out of their system. He couldn't necessarily blame them for what happened, anyone who didn't know what to expect when fighting the moontae were going to fall prey to the sexual pheremones they projected. As it was he was surprised they had the werewithall to at least fuck in the wagon's ruins.

He stood outside in the cooling air of the Alerar night as he sighed and looked up at the sky. Letting the anger and the hatred that he felt simmer down. It wasn't going away, which was concerning. He shook his head an accepted the rage, letting its passionate warmth fill his frame. It had been awhile since he had felt rage this encompassing, not since the Night of Debauchery. Even then he felt far too much calm in the center of the storm, too rational.

Looking at the stars far above he muttered softly to himself, “I'm getting to old for this shit.”


~*~

Seth sat at the table, looking across at Garret. Though he had tried hard to argue with the man, there was no refuting the logic, that even now was being thrust into his face. Grey eyes met warm brown for the last time as Seth nodded and carefully held out a gauntlet clad hand. The man that had stood beside Seth for so long, through thick and thin looked at the proffered limb before he shook his head. He instead turned to leave before he paused looking back at Seth.

“I won't say good bye, I refuse to give you that dignity Demon. When you're done tormenting us all with your attempts at being Seth Dahlios, then I will say goodbye,” The words rocked the Lavinian Demon like a slap. He looked up pained at the man who merely turned to go, before saddened grey eyes hunched forward and awaited the guest of honor. “I shouldn't have to explain myself, you know what is wrong. No good fruit has fallen from that tree and now I see it consumed you.”

“I only did what was necessary. I took on this power to protect you all-”

“Who asked you to?” The words again rocked the Demon before Garret leaned forward and spoke, “I tried Seth. I tried so hard to look past Thomas, to look past your Mother and Father, to look past what happened to poor Sarah. She believed there was good in you, thayne bless it, she had me fooled. She convinced me that you were just doing this to redeem yourself. Then you got her killed for petty vengeance! How long before I join her in the next grave Seth? How long before I'm another casualty on that list, all in pursuit of power no one asked you to receive? Then there is your sister. A woman who should be free of your curse, burdened to be the miserable caretaker of whats left of the Dahlios Clan. Do you even know where she is?”

Seth remained silent at the stark accusations. Finally Garret had his fill and turned to leave. Giving Seth time to contemplate where his life was going.

[Skie and Avery]

Skie was turning from the bar to glance at the group when she saw Garret take his leave. Rachel and Beatrix were nowhere to be seen, though Skie imagined that one or the both of them might badly need emotional aftercare after having been courted by the Beauty. While they were benign compared to the horrors she heard spewed forth from the maw of Haidia, a demon was a demon, and a demon was good at destruction. With that thought, she turned her attention to the Lavinian Demon who sat alone at the table.

Seth’s stoic expression had crumbled, and though it was merely a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes as he stared down at the table, Skie couldn’t help but feel a chill go down her spine. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen such a wounded look on his face, even after she’d stripped him of his soul and shoved it back so many years ago. Whatever pained him now was a deeper violation than her curse, and Skie quickly turned back to the bartender, stopping him as he started to fill mugs with ale.

“We’re going to need shots, actually.” She said, pointing at a bottle decorated with maces and dwarven script as impossibly beautiful as it was unpronounceable. The bartender raised a brow, then shrugged and asked how many. “I’ll start with four, and I’ll be back for more if I can walk.” With the tiny glasses of clear, pungent alcohol in tow, Skie sat down with Seth and slid a shot towards him as she downed her first one. Her eyes watered and it took everything she had not to grab at her throat and cough. Hands in fists, she slammed the empty glass down and watched as her friend sipped quietly on his.

“That’s not how you drink a shot, kid.” She teased.

“This isn’t a shot.” He said back, shrugging. “More like ale.”

Skie watched him for a moment before she let a giggle escape. She arched her back, leaning against the back of the chair and put her hands over her face, wiping at the tears her laughter had brought to her eyes. “Thayne above, please never take me drinking in Lavinia.” The empty glass in front of her slid to the middle of the table and she pulled another in front of her, waiting to drink it. Her finger traced the rim, and she paused for a moment before adding, “Sorry you got pulled into my mess.”

“It beats boredom from waiting for the heat to fade.” Seth waved off her apology.

“I can think of better ways to keep boredom at bay,” Skie remarked, her eye glittering with mischief.

Seth chuckled, “I technically am a married man. I shouldn’t be using that to cure boredom.” Skie’s cheeks flushed with red, beyond the rosy hue the liquor was starting to impart. She thought she felt her stomach drop, embarrassment sweeping down like a reaper come to end her.

“I didn’t…” Her words failed her, and she tipped her head back, downing the second shot. It stung, filling her with warmth. It was a welcome sensation to the cold rebuttal. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was barking up the wrong tree.”

The thief sighed, looking down at his shot, only half put away. “I say technically because the last time I saw her, she tried to get me killed. We were never married to begin with, but I guess that qualified as the divorce.” Skie studied his face, watching the way the twitch of his jaw moved the scarred flesh of his cheek. She had thought she’d been the one who had walked hell’s path in the time since they’d first met, but now she realized she was foolish to assume her burden had been greater. How had his soul been tempered by the flame?

“Well at least you aren’t being stalked,” she laughed halfheartedly, lamely trying to pull their conversation from the grave turn. She reached up and absently fingered the golden arrow at her throat. “I guess I should move before Avery puts more eyes on me. Shame, I liked that place.”

“It reminds me of the shack I grew up in. Homey even if it was a shithole.”

Skie gasped in mock offense, swatting at his arm playfully. “A shithole? Sir, I have a teapot and matching cups.” Genuine laughter bubbled up this time, and Skie raised her hand for another round of shots despite the one that still sat untouched by Seth’s hand. “That’s okay though,” she added while they waited. “I like it. I like a normal, homey life. It’s new and different and fits.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” scoffed the thief. “You and I both know that normal isn’t how our life will go.”

The swordswoman frowned. He had a point, but still, hadn’t even Seth Dahlios found love and a family? Not everything had to go to shit. She refused to believe that they were destined for doom. “What harm is there in trying?” she asked.

“None. I’m just warning you what happened to me can easily happen to you.”

Two more shots came and Skie downed them both. Her head was swimming, from the booze or the stress, she wasn’t sure. Either way, she had some frustration to care for as well. She motioned for the drink and a half that sat in front of the hex mage. After a moment, she made sure to carefully say exactly what she meant.

“Drink up. Fuck what you should or shouldn’t do. Usstan tlun aluin ulu sha'nalt ulu dos.”

[Philomel]

Name of Thread: It Was Personal To Me (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?29387-It-Was-Personal-To-Me-(closed-to-Dissinger)/page2)
Type of Judgement: Condensed Rubric
Participants: Skie and Avery and Dissinger

Commentary:

Story: 21/30

Both: This story was effective for a variety of reasons. Firstly it had a great amount of powerful plot, with the right amount of tension and calm moments, at least for the most part. There was perhaps almost too much combat, especially with the posts from around 9 to 13, but really what you had you displayed particularly well. The story itself, with how your two characters meet and suffer and adventure together is particularly good and believable. Even the sexual tension you have is powerful and strong and this judge has to admit that you two are very good writers together.

Skie and Avery: Your strong points are in story-telling. You link well to your past stories, which this judge has had the honour of reading, especially in your first post. You write it with small hints, not overly baring obvious, which links with the age-old writing rule of ‘show not tell’ and further it with small interesting details, such as the cipher that the reader themselves can translate using your links and code breaker word. What is really great about your writing is that you do improve as you go on, such as that in your scene setting. Pacing is slightly marred by your larger paragraphed, but overall, very little to worry about. You also end on something of a deneumont, which kind of detracts from the whole fast-paced actioned movement of the piece, but this can be solved with consideration to maybe another post.

Dissinger: Similarly to Skie and Avery you have a great way of telling stories, with a base good pace, though perhaps at times it is a little too fast, especially in the beginning, where it could be slowed down to ease the reader into the thread. Good description of the setting such as, “The small kitchen was homey enough…” in post one sets a mood for the entire piece and you continue well, keep with the temperament of it. The only real concern here from this judge is that you have the potential for small details here and there, such as side plots in the story and descriptions and overall you seem to place them aside. Try thinking about lighting for setting, the faces of antagonists for plot.


Character: 19/30

Skie and Avery: All in all you clealry have a strong idea of your character, who she is and where she comes from and perhaps were she is going. There is a lot of development gone into Skie over time, and this thread only furthers that development in the moment of her suffering. There are ways she acts that suggest a past of royalty but portray her current downtrodden situation whcih are particularly powerful - such as her pure determination in post 3 with, “She wasn’t sure how she was going to tell where to go or where she’d been, but she knew she needed to move to stay alive.”. Her actions, therefore, are very strong, but are much of the reliant part of the thread. It would be good, though, to see more dialogue and a few more thoughts, though you do plant a suggestion of it with notes about “the wind” whispering in post 5 which show her own thoughts but in a clever way. Dialogue itself is of good consistency, though could really have been more in depth at times, rather than relying on your larger chunkier paragraphs. It, or personal thought, would have helped to break up these larger sections and show more of her intimate thoughts - for instance, does she feel any romance towards the drow who helped her? Even throwing in a suggestion of this can help to ease the flow of the writing and bring your character a little bit more to life rather than rely on action. What is really powerful, as usual, is your use of words that are not of common tongue origin.

Dissinger: What you portray is I believe what you want to portray - a sort of raw mixture of beast and being, a man with the potential for anarchy but the brilliant mind of a stately academic. You heavily rely on character to character interaction which works particularly well for you to bring out various flavours to yours. Almost opposite to Skie you use dialogue mostly to show off Seth, which, at times, can blend with the other character NPCs you create in a formulaic way, but has times of peaking into individuality. Your dialogue is strong, intentional and powerful though mainly this judge would suggest encouragement to find a particular certain voice for your primary character (turns of phrase etc). Your action and moments of persona are strong, though you could use personal thought to add more emphasis, but then perhaps this is not entirely necessary.

Writing: 22/30

Skie and Avery: What really stood out for you in this thread was your use of description. Though you can definitely do with more general linguistic techniques (metaphor etc) you have a good hold of the environment and the English language, forming it to an effective degree with use of colour, sight, sound and smell to really portray a scene. Small details such as your linking sexual tension with the actual storyline itself and the plot with, “her groan more sexual than defeated” in post 9 really helps to give yourself an unusual voice that is unique and strong. Your biggest weakness in this section is clarity, for your larger paragraphs are sometimes very heavy and hard to read through and don’t give much in the way of short sharp details, which might really help with your writing. Your actions, however, each are all well written and clear and you have a steady hold of mechanics already so well done.

Dissinger: Mainly your writing is really good, and you have a steady way of writing that has its definite own style and voice. Sometimes there are small spelling mistakes here and there, but nothing a spell check or proof read won’t catch. In terms of clarity you do have some issues with the amount of characters (including NPCs) you include, with run-on pieces of dialogue and heavy action sequences especially in the later half of the thread, but overall you write each small tense part effectively and well. What you did do well was writing the fighting in a provocative way that made the reader feel like they were really part of the story, captivating them with great description including sound with, “The sounds of metal upon metal began to chime into the still air” in post 10, for example.

Wildcard: 7/10

Wildcard here goes to excellent writing together. I really enjoyed reading this thread, and your two styles really complement each other and you have a good flow from one to the other. Your characters themselves are really affectionate towards one another, perhaps sexually, it is hinted, and this is great, and you portray this through your writing.

Total Score: 69

Rewards:

Skie and Avery (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?1387-Skie-and-Avery) receives:
1325 EXP
111 GP

Dissinger (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?7-Dissinger)receives:
1675 EXP
97 GP

[Hysteria]

exp/gp added