The Disappearance Of Lady Heysan

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set just after the whole McKinley and Stare adventures.

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Part One

She let out a light gasp as they came to be once more within the confines of a brightly lit corridor. White stone walls and the long, seemingly endless slope of slow descent told Stare with a while glance where she was. With a gentle shove she pushed herself away from the man who had grabbed her and pulled her into the portal that was slowly pulsating closed behind them. She did not want to look at him, or this place or any of it. All she was concerned about right now was her newest friend McKinley, whom they had just left to her own devices.

When enemies such as Stare’s undead brother were out hunting her.

“She made her own decision, Stare,” Vitruvion spoke low behind her. “She knows the danger she faces.”

“You should never have left her in the first place,” Stare growled back at him, brushing her feathers down where his grip had upset them. “She could have avoided being attacked by him at all!”

“I left her a protection,” he replied, “which she used, and this time she wants to be left alone. Something that you ignored. Like you entirely ignored my order.”

“You only mean it to be an order when you use the word,” Stare finally glared back at him, with her black eyes that could kill. He stood facing her, his white hair framing his face, leaning slightly on one foot, but head held high showing to the world just what sort of lord he was.

“I would actually hope that you take everything I say that even hints at a command as an order, Stare,” there was a note of disappointment in his voice. She folded her arms, glaring at him, and he raised his brows. “But as usual, you are going to argue. Now, I'm ordering you to stay here, as apparently you cannot keep yourself safe in Radasanth. Until I figure out precisely what is going on-”

Stare looked at him as if he was mad. “Wait - no. You have to be joking. I am not staying confined here. You-”

He suddenly darted forwards, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back towards him. Her words were cut off as she saw him looking up the corridor, an alarming wide smile on his face. As she shrugged out of his grasp she turned to see what he was looking at - the Brother Frendir striding up the corridor with three guards and a young woman, mostly unbound but with a large red wine stain taking up the side of her face. He threw Vitruvion back a smile.

“Vitruvion! And your … well Stare. How are you?”

The girl behind him lifted her eyes that had previously been latched on the ground and came to gaze at the kenku with wonder. She was not one that Stare recognised, which made her think that this one was new, and heard of the rumour that was the 'guest’ of the Hollow who had escaped that cruel fate and made her way to be one of the most recognised individuals in the city. Either the girl had heard about her in Beinost itself, or the murmurings of the community of the girls here had spread to ensure everyone who was knew heard of the legend that was the kenku Stare.

Vitruvion drew himself slightly straighter as Frendir came to stand near them, smoothing down his clothes for the sense of a decorum. He nudged Stare surreptitiously in the back and she rolled her eyes a little, but took up a more respectful pose, loosening her arms and instead cupping her hands before her. Despite being angry at the god beside her she responded to habit and stepped to the side so that Vitruvion could proclaim himself forwards.

“Well, Frendir, I am well. Stare of course is fine. And yourself.”

Not that she could not speak for herself. But Stare knew far better than to try to argue with Vitruvion in front of his colleagues. His reputation as a good employer, as a gentleman, as a noble in the courts of Raiaera mattered to him so deeply that Stare had never even dared imagine to shame him in any way. There was also the issue of the fact she did not want to - not now. There was more hope in her than ever that he would become a worthy god for her to worship.

Thus she remained stoic, her eyes flickering to glance at the gawking girl, and giving her a small nod before switching her gaze back to Frendir.

“Glad to hear it,” Frendir beamed, then he paused and waved behind him. “Ah yes this is [I]Humility[I]. She'll be around somewhat.”

“Unfortunately I will not be,” Vitruvion said with a fading smile.

At that Stare's breath caught in her chest. With confusion she took a small step back and looked up at him, her beak opening. Frendir looked just as surprised. But he remained silent long enough for her to gather her thoughts.

“You-” she broke off, pausing for a moment to begin again. “My lord, you said nothing about this,” she said low.

“No I did not, my dear, but let us not bore Frendir that boring conversation, hmm?” He smirked a little and did not look at her.

Frendir as his usual character remained none the wiser and kept smiling. “Well, I think … in that case I shall be off. Come dear one,” he waved to Humility. The girl did not move. It took one of her guards to shove her gently forwards and she let out a quiet, surprised shout before Frendir grabbed her hand. Stare breathed in slowly, gripping her hands together to stop herself from screaming at them all.

The brother bowed his head, before swinging around and pulling the girl with him. She gave Stare one last desperate gaze as she was forced down the hall. The kenku had to force herself to look away, swinging her eyes to glare at Vitruvion and throw all her frustration into him.

“You’re going away?” she hissed.

He grabbed her shoulder quickly and began to push her down the halls, opposite direction from Frendir. At first she resisted, but he shoved harder and hissed in her mind.
Stare!

She drew in a long breath and let him guide her with his strength, showing her the way towards the door near the end of the corridor. The slope went up from here, towards the base of the underground and the door that led to the room, which led to the stairs that led eventually out to the wide bright world. The first door obstructing their path came into view, but Vitruvion pushed her around to avoid it.

They went through a door, into the room that she had once been so familiar with - filled with a table, chairs and too many ropes and chains in neat coiled piles to bear. His hand at her shoulder she more eagerly let herself be led into a room beyond that, then one after in which had armchairs, a crackling fire and a low table already set with a waiting pot of tea …

She slumped her way over to a chair and gestured to it.

“Am I allowed to sit, sir?”

“I could make you stand for all the pain you have put me through, girl,” he curled his lip, then he graciously waved a hand. “But yes you may.”

Huffing, but waiting until his hand stopped his movement, Stare swung and dropped into the seat, her eyes on his. Curiosity and ferocity raged behind her eyelids. She snapped when she saw him remain in his position, standing there.

“Why are you leaving?” she asked abruptly.

He breathed in slowly as a strange weary look came over his eyes. Then he looked right at her.

“Before I answer that, get it into your head matter your arguments, Stare, you are staying here. This is the safest place for you, where those I trust can keep guard over you.”

“I can very well take care of myself,” she protested. “You sent me to the shore, to find out what was happening with the ships. I was fine, Nosdyn and I-”

“Stare,” he said firmly. “No.” She opened her beak again and he raised his brows, “No. There are no arguments here. I might be gone sometime and I will not risk you.”

She stood up then, out of the seat she had won, but defiant and bold, her hands twisted into fists. “I hate this place, Vitruvion. If you have to, fucking hole me up in the house, but not here. Not here. In this,” she waved her hand erratically to the walls. “Hell!”

“Oh so you would stay in the house if I told you to?” He folded his arms, brows raised. “Stay in your room when apparently it was so difficult when I first moved you there?”

“Yes!” Stare shouted back at him, taking a daring step towards him. “For days, weeks if you told me, but I'm begging you not here.”

Vitruvion went silent for a moment before his expression changed. His thin but perfectly formed lips twisted up into a resemblance of a pleased smile. His eyes glistened with a certain amount of pride as he took a step towards her and laid a hand on her head, running his fingers down until they cupped her jaw. Standing beneath his awesome prowess and vigour Stare felt her breath catch in her chest, frozen to that spot in that odd and single moment.

“My dear, you are everything I have hoped for. I am proud of you,” he sighed. “But - here is safer than anywhere else. You are the most valuable thing I have, and I will not lose you.”

Her eyes dropped down, and she let out a small grumble. “You speak of me like a possession.”

He let his hand fall, shrugging uselessly. “You yourself have said that you are 'mine’. It's suitable language, and will do for now. However, the matter still is not altered that I do not know how long I will be gone and I cannot take you with me where I am going, and here there are guards for your safety as well as attention. Thus-”

“What has happened, Vitruvion?” she asked quietly, “Why do you not know how long you are gone for?”

The god paused, breathing in slowly. He was silent for a moment.

“Ventrua has disappeared. She failed to come home last night.”

Stare gasped, surprised. She could not help it. For it was not what she had been expecting in the slightest. Ventrua was his half sister, and his first ally in coming to this planet, she was the one link Vitruvion had to his past life as a partially active god. She had known him before, and she knew him now, had followed him to Beinost and slowly become more and more distant over the past year as she determined to set out a life for her own …

Yet despite that last, she was part of their small world, and always had been another possible victim of the ruinous plans of Vitruvion's brother, Vindrexis.

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly, and not just for Ventrua. For her arguments up until that point, for her rudeness and her very flat disrespect in the way she had been speaking to him, despite who he was to her, wear he was to her.

Vitruvion felt the extent of her apology through her emotions. Though he had not expressed much irritation of her defiance, aside from his guiding her down the corridor, there was a clear change in him. He relaxed slightly, rolled back his shoulders, and gave her a calm, polite nod, the smile on his face long gone.

“I'm leaving you the safekeeping of everything until my return,” he said. “The businesses, and the projects. Zulon will assist, if you need, and I will be contactable.” Stare breathed in, understanding what he was saying. He was leaving her in charge - of it all. Not just those are was manager of, but the running of his entire world. It meant he was truly desperate, that he wanted to devote all of his time and energy to finding Ventrua, but also that he now trusted Stare to a greater extent than he had done before.

“I need not say that this does not mean you can cause a revolution here. Your usual protocol remains, and as I said you are to-”

“I'll need to go out if I am to still manage the businesses,” she said quickly, looking right into his eyes.

He looked at her for a moment, pausing. “Fine, but you sleep here, and anywhere you go you take however many guards Zulon insists are necessary. Yes?”

She stared at him, raising her brow.

“Stare it is entirely for you protection. Refuse and-”

“Fine,” she sighed, lifting her shoulders in a defeated shrug. “I accept your conditions.”

“You are interrupting me a lot today,” he narrowed his eyes slightly and gestured at her none too kindly. “Work on that.”

It was practically a command, and Stare would have debated it were it not for the situation he was in. Thus, she nodded just once, but showed her apprehension. He looked her over once, and smiled briefly, sadly gently caressing her feathers.

“Hold my kingdom for me until I return, my steward,” he murmured.

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled as her reply.

“Miss? Miss!”

There was a firm shake at her shoulder. A hand that was strangely small but strong wrapping over the muscle and bone there, and rocking it haphazardly.

Her eyes jolted open. Suddenly she was thrown into the embrace of the conscious, where dreams could no longer protect her but where nightmares could not long claw at her with their vicious thoughts. Staring out she found herself face to face with a young man desperately looking into her eyes and bending over her with an expression of panic. He straightened as he saw her coming to, pulling his hands before him as he bowed at the waist.

“Miss.”

Looking around her she could see she had fallen asleep in Vitruvion's bed. After pacing around for hours, lonely and bored, Stare had ended up reading into the early hours. She had fallen asleep, exhausted, right on top of the quilt covers in which she had spent various nights, each very different from the last. Now she was being called to the world of the living, somewhere that was familiar yet so unwanted. Once, she blinked before realising precisely just where she was (the Hollow) and who was addressing her (one of Vitruvion's guards). And he was bowing at her, which was fairly new.

Quickly she sat up, her brow lifting, and her hands pulling down on her clothes to make sure she was covered. “Can I help you?” she asked in rushed tones.

The guard, who had fabulous ginger hair and beard and was possibly part dwarf, rose from his bow to nod. “Yes, miss. Lord Gravelle is waiting in the antechamber.”

Stare blinked, as she through about the grey-haired, grumpy, foul Brother of the Hollow who was as pleasant as a piece of wood stuck with nails.

“What the Ansaldo's balls is he doing here?” She asked, bemused, as she struggled from the bed covers. She headed towards the foot of the bed where a small leather trunk baring her own clothes from the mansion had been deposited by a lone guard yesterday.

“He … apparently had an appointment with Sir Elssmith, miss, and did not receive the news that he was going to be gone for a few days …”

Stare stopped, straightened as she unbuckled the lid of the furniture and threw it open. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Well tell him that.”

“I have miss, but he - he … well. Insists that it needs to be discussed now.”

Running her eyes over the contents of the trunk she grabbed out the finest tunic that she could see at the top. She was about to start pulling off her current clothing when she realised that it was not exactly the proper thing to do, if she truly was now acting as Vitruvion’s steward. Gravelle did not like her, but if was insisting on speaking to someone it was going to apparently have to be here. Pausing for a moment, she looked at the guard. “What does he want?”

“He said something about … room allocation for a new guest he has?”

The kenku froze, severe dislike coming into her eyes. Her brow furrowed and she stared at the guard who swallowed slightly. “He has brought her with him, hasn’t he?” she said, flatly.

The man before her winced slightly before nodding. “Yes, and apparently she has been sleeping for a week in a living room so …”

Throwing her eyes to high heaven Stare let out a dissatisfied caw as she turned to glare around the room. She found a satisfactory partition which would do well to get changed behind and stomped over to it as she began to tug off her clothes. “Stupid idiot has to leave me with this stupid, ugh,” she muttered as she struggled out of her current crumpled tunic. Sweeping it over her head she flustered at her mental extent, where he was usually lying in wait.

Gravelle wants to talk about rooms for a ‘guest’ of his. He said he arranged this meeting with you?

There were a few agonising seconds of silence. She tried again. My lord, did you hear-

Stare, you can deal with a trifle like this, came an emotionally weary, tepid voice. Deal with all these matters as I would, not as you wish I would, not as you would, but as I would, which I trust you to do.

Easing into her finer tunic she proceeded to tie the belt around her waist as she breathed in slowly. Her eyes glanced down to the dull metal cuff on her left wrist that had been there for so long now that it was part of her identity. The immovable ornament connected her mind to Vitruvion’s, and had at first been a shackle that shouted her enslavement to her. Now it was more than that, a symbol of her close bond with him, and though sometimes she wished it could come off, each day that passed made her more used to it. More aware of the benefits. More aware of the power.

“Ahm … Miss Stare?”

She looked around the partition at the guard, her eyes briefly studying his young, blonde form. Slowly she breathed in, straightened and adjusted her clothes as she felt Vitruvion's presence feel satisfied, then drift away; once more to look for his sister.

“Yeah,” she replied, striding out. She paused to reach one more into the trunk and pull out her weapons - her dagger and clawed glove. Then, tying them both onto her belt she continued on her way towards the door.

“My name is Eirik, miss,” the young man said with a small smile. His hand lay on the hilt of a small set of daggers at his belt. “Lieutenant Zulon has placed me in charge of your safety.”

Stare glanced around at him, her brow raised. A brief glimpse into the aura sight told her he was middle-of-the-alignment neutral in morality, human, in his 30s and had a mostly honest heart but darkened by small white lies. Ones he likely told his family about his work to avoid the truth of this hellhole.

“I apologise but I do not recognise you much.”

He shook his head, a small smile on his face. “You probably wouldn't miss. Though when you first came to live here I was amongst those who …”

Tied her down, trussed her, made her into a package ready for Vitruvion's pleasure.

“Delightful,” she grunted. “And apparently now I'm your boss.”

His lips twisted into something of a smirk. “Apparently so.’

She let out a single note of laughter before slamming open the door.

The girl beside him was young. Too young. At least she looked thirteen but Stare hoped, for the sake of all that was good, that she was older. Small elf ears poked between golden tresses of hair, and her features were fine, pretty and delicate. Large, hazel eyes gazed out and stared as the kenku stepped into the room, and the slender neck beneath had a visible lump firmly form in it.

“You …” her tiny lips whispered.

Suddenly she was savagely yanked. Letting out a cry as the leather leash that attached to her hands were tugged. Her hands were badly bound in further leather cuffs, and she wore the skimpiest outfit that tried to make the best out of her immature breasts and hips.

Stare's attention snapped over the grey haired and foul man who she knew had something to do with the merchant bank of Beinost; likely one of its main representatives. He had a history of hating her and despising Vitruvion, often arguing why he should have more power within the city and the Hollow. Now he was here to complain that his apartment was too small, presumably because he had a new kidnapped soul whose parents were likely very fearful for her safety.

“They said you were here, in his place,” Lord Gravelle spat, “Why he could not have placed a more reasonable representative to deal with matters in his name is my question?”

“Miss Stare - Lady Stare is Sir Elssmith's chosen steward, Lord Gravelle.”

“Eirik, thank you,” Stare looked at the guard from a single beady eye. Yes she might have no say on the fact he was going to remain by her side, in every room she walked into for foreseeable future, but she also needed to be stern. He did not have to speak to her.

Fortunately, the young human seemed to accept the thanks and what it meant with grace. Inclining his head he slid a step back. Stare smiled slightly before she drew her attention back to the Brother again, trying to ignore the way her heart cried out for the girl and made her want to do nothing less than run over and embrace her.

She took a steady breath in, and set herself to proper decorum. As simple as talking to any manager of Vitruvion's stores. As simple as holding the Council of the Brotherhood.

“Eirik speaks the truth,” she said slowly, trying to avoid the pleaful gaze of the girl. “Lord Vitruvion has made me his steward, in fact that was around a full year ago now. I believe you received note. Yesterday he had to take an unexpected trip, and had little time to make arrangements - thus, the easier solution was to leave me in charge of his affairs, as I already partly manage around half of them.” She folded her arms. “So? What is your issue that I can hear?”

The young kidnapped woman let out a quiet gasp at the end of Stare's tirade. The kenku though, out of politeness and knowing that she was representing Vitruvion here - who … was, well, her god, - tried to ignore it, keeping her beak somewhat high.

“This is my newest guest,” Gravelle very briefly smiled, and shoved a hand behind him to grab the young girls breast. Stare folded her hands into tight fists to keep herself from screaming at him. “And I no longer have room for her in my measly apartment. Thus I need a larger one.”

For some years now, Stare knew, Gravelle had been intensely complaining about the location of his apartments. The Hollow was an ancient catacomb, hardly used but that existed in a wide spiralling tunnel that gently declined deeper into the earth. There were ten sections, sets of rooms that were called the 'apartments’ of the ten brothers, intersected via the centre by an offshoot room of a great octagonal shape that served as a council chamber. Below the apartments was where the guards Hell was, where guests who had once been in favour and now were no longer were sent and never heard of again. Because of the Hell, and because of the fact Vitruvion lived in the apartments to the closest to the surface of the world, and was the chairman and last living founder of the Hollow, there was a tradition that the higher up your apartment on the path, the more important you were.

Gravelle currently resided somewhere in the bottom section, beyond the council chamber. He thought, however, that he deserved to live beyond and closer to the light of day. Stare realised that this, claiming he had not the room to house this, his sixth 'guest’, was just a new plan to gain heights.

Stare's jaw tightened a little as she imagined what personal nightmare his girls must be living through. Indeed, she had lived under Vitruvion for four and a half painful months, but she could imagine Gravelle was worse.

“Lord Gravelle,” Stare said slowly, trying to think of what best to do. What Vitruvion expected her to do. Deal with all these matters as I would, he had said. Certainly, she knew ready, that meant not giving in to his desires and giving him a new apartment. But her eyes looked to the young woman for a moment and thought of what best she could do right now, for her.

“Lord Gravelle, you have made the choice to take in another … guest.” She forced the word out from her beak. “You know the capacity of your own apartments.”

The older man narrowed his eyes. “You dare talk to me in that way.”

“I speak as my Lord Elssmith has allowed me to,” she pulled her hands in front of her and clasped them with decorum. “As the authority of his steward allows me. Now, I can advise that there is no possibility of you moving apartment as there is-”

“Well these ones are hardly used to the best of their capacity,” Gravelle interrupted. “How about your lord move out? He only has two guests at the moment.”

Stare saw Eirik from the corner of her eye grip the hilt of his sword tighter. The kenku fought to keep her own calm, for all the truth that she wanted to kill this man right now and free the young woman who had only just passed into maturity. In fact she would gladly kill all the brothers and free every girl whilst Vitruvion was gone but his request for her to 'not start a revolution’ was foremost in her mind.

“That,” she testily replied, “is not even in discussion.”

“Why not?” Gravelle grinned at her slowly. “Why not? For he has made the decision to leave you in charge. In that case then you can make the choice to have your lord’s position altered somewhat. Sorry, your employer. Better yet, your master, you little fowl.”

There was a sudden, bright ring of steel. Stare saw the glint of light as Eirik took a step forwards, the sword now bare in his hand. Shoving his way partly in front of her he hissed darkly at a wide-eyed Gravelle. He opened his mouth to speak.

“I have a solution,” Stare said quickly, suspecting exactly what the guard was about to say. Eirik paused and looked over at her. She slowly stepped around him, watching the young blonde beginning to shake, wide eyes on the naked blade.

Gravelle’s gaze flicked over to her, brows raised. She took this as an invitation to go on. Stare looked at Eirik, who curled his lip distastefully but began to lower the sword.

“Until a more suitable arrangement can be made,” Stare spoke to the Brother. For instance, as soon as Vitruvion returned, “Your new guest will be able to stay within the apartments here.”

She had no idea if it would work, and even if it was what Vitruvion would want, but it would give her the chance to keep a close eye on this wide-eyed fresh-faced girl who had been condemned to this hell through no fault of her own.

“Might I suggest, miss,” Eirik said low, with a growling undertone, “That Lord Gravelle will not be permitted to entertain her here, and he must pay for her upkeep. Food, guards and the like.”

“All costs will come from your own pocket, Lord Gravelle,” Stare agreed. “And I would suggest that you satisfy yourself with the six guests currently under your guidance.”

Gravelle curled his lip before he spat on the floor just in front of Stare's feet. Eirik darted forwards, immediately horrified - and Stare was honestly caught off guard, surprised at that. She was even more surprised when the guard swung up his sword to Gravelle's neck, stopping the blade inches from his throat.

“Lady Tsukaka is Lord Elssmith's chosen steward and representative. She is to be respected, you ugly, insufferable-”

“Lord Gravelle,” Stare said quickly and tightly, seeing panic rise in the young woman's face and feeling her own heart beginning to race. She fought back hard not to cause Gravelle pain - though the man had been subject to her powers before. “You may leave your guest here to make arrangements. I will send word when she has been installed and where you might collect her from for your … entertainment.”

Her voice trailed off as her breathing began to grow more erratic, each word coming from her beak more painful than the last. Entertainment. Torture. Rape. What a horrible life awaited this blonde human who had likely done nothing wrong to have the fate.

Stare looked away from them all, fearful that her emotions would become a weapon. “Eirik?” she asked, wondering if he would do as she wished.

The guard grunted and lowered his sword but remained where he was, between Gravelle and Stare. The lord scowled, but seemed to understand what little power he had here. Dropping the end of the rope he had he spat once more before twisting sharply on his heel. He exited, gripping the door and then throwing it open so hard it banged on its hinges when he left.

Slam.

There was a moment of silence. Only unsteady breathing could be heard. Then-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But they say you - that, that you …”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And does he trust you?”

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

She found herself sighing, and meeting Lament with the same intense gaze. “He does, at least I believe he does. But you should also know that I trust him.”

“You trust a man who - who did things like that to you?” Her eyes were huge with disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine,” she nodded at Jordain.

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

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

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

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

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

Lament threw a deep look of hatred at the kenku. Stare turned away from her, knowing that Lament had not been persuaded to consider her less of a traitor. But that was it, that was what she had to deal with her life. Slowly she breathed in and just murmured, “Sorry,” as Eirik gestured for Lament to follow him.

-*-*-*-*-

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ancestry and pride. The kenku found herself looking away, slowly filling her lungs with air. She had not expected to meet anyone who knew Vitruvion from beyond that time aside from Raevin and Ventrua, especially one who talked of him with such pride. Why Jordain would want to then work for him in a pit of horror like the Hollow was beyond Stare but then, she had never asked the question even of Zulon. Each person she knew had their own reasons, she her own. Maybe the Hollow had started out something different, and had gotten darker the more Vitruvion lost hope.

Elsewhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He drew himself up to his full height, taking step forwards. “My kingdom will be greater than yours.”

“And that was it. I left after that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raevin smiled slightly. Vitruvion scowled.

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

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

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

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

“Sir?” Raevin asked hesitantly.

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

“How is … How is ... she?”

The god paused. His blue eyes became dark as he lifted his face from within the tankard. His breathing was steady, but Raevin knew there was hesitation in the beat of his heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I've already asked them,” Vitruvion glared back. “Not one of the gods, mages or soldiers who I asked detected any of that sort of magic.”

“Sir,” Raevin stressed, “there may be detections within her property, in other places you have not looked?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he began to stand.

“Stare would say-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My pleasure, sir.”

“He … what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stare frowned deeply.

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

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

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

“Tothetheatre!” came a garbled answer.

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

“Sorry,” Sable smiled awkwardly. “Could we … possibly go to the theatre?”

A week later.

Quote:

---

Note that the occurrence of Dune-Grass happen between these

---

She had a new friend. And that felt good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jordain nodded once at Stare, before the kenku grunted and took up a small satchel and began to stuff further clothes into it. The guard made no comment, only stepped back and gestured to the door when it was clear Stare was done. Letting out a sigh Stare nodded in return before heading back out of the room, and towards the small cart that would carry her back to the Hollow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you and what-”

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

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

“Issued by the official courts of Hernsford …”

With an angered growl in her throat Stare ran up, clearing the space between herself and the crouched figure in a matter of moments. Hastily she snatched the paper out of the hands, not even once looking at it as she rolled it tightly up again into its scroll shape. Then she threw the paper straight into the cupboard, and slammed closed the doors as her body started hyperventilating.

She pressed herself against the door for a moment, heart hammering at having to even touch one of those piece of paper. A hard lump was already forming in her throat as she tried to force it from the mind, but now that it was there, it was going to be there; thinking about not thinking about it just made her think about it!

Her beak began to grind loudly against the wood. The kenku curled her hands into fists and held them her head as she huffed loudly, trying to not think about it. Trying not to - Joe had she even found it? Why had he even put one here? Why did it have to be her? Ansaldo's balls!

“It … it explains everything,” a haunted, shaking breath cane film behind her. “You're … You're …”

Stare could not turn around to look at her. She with the black hair, who had barely joined their horrible world.

“Why did you come in here, Sable?” Stare replied in a quaking voice. “Nobody comes in here.”

There was a pause. Stare closed her eyes tightly, and lightly hit her head with her fist, as if do so would get the thoughts out.

“Stare, I …”

Quickly the kenku turned. She glared at the still sitting figure, whose eyes were huge and full of horror. Dressed in a high-necked cotton dress and the long woollen cloak she looked ready for some form of festival. Stare the anger boiling through her system and it was only because she had dealt with the fact of belonging physically to him for so long that she managed to restrain herself, and not explode into manic pain creator.

“This goes no further than this room,” Stare said fast, pounding a fist into her hand. “Nobody knows. Nobody..”

Sable visibly swallowed, cowering. Apparently even though Stare was using restraint and trying not to burn her with pain, necrosis, or any of her other abilities, her eyes still burnt with a passive warning. The kenku tried to reign in her passion, but it was such a fire that she could barely do more than not let the magic escape.

Therefore, she decided she was going to use this energy and its effect - at least to get her promise.

“Sable,” she said sternly, looking at the girl seriously. “You have to promise me you will not tell anyone. At all. It's - he has promised. I cannot have this getting out and there being something else people can use against me.” She huffed, growling. “Another thing.”

Sable shivered a little but made no response. The kenku saw genuine fear in the girl's eyes, the same sort that Stare had once held for Vitruvion. It made her pause and sigh and drop the hand curled into a fist.

“Sable, please,” she requested, “Please agree.”

There was a beat of hearts and a pause. Slightly, Sable shook, but she slowly nodded her head. “Y-yes,” she whispered.

Stare let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. As you might imagine it's not something I like to talk about so-”

“But this is the reason,” Sable whispered. “The truth. You never actually got away from him. You're still his captive.”

Stare's jaw tightened. Quickly, she looked away, trying to ignore the painful beating at her breast. “Don't. He's … he pays me. A lot of money. And has given me his complete trust.”

“But Blaze said he is connected to your mind. That, mixed with this … you're still his.”

The kenku rolled back her shoulders, grunting. “I know that. I've known that a long time. He's never let me forget. Now,” she nodded at the open door where thankfully no guards had come through.

“Ready for the theatre?”

She whispered fast and efficiently, “so nobody knows? Not even … Zulon? Brer? Blaze?”

“Just shut up,” Stare growled not for the first time. “Please.”

They were heading down the corridor, surrounded by a plethora of guards, both before and in front of them. Zulon was even there, leading the charge and momentarily throwing glanced back at Stare as if to say, 'this idea is honestly so mad.’

And she agreed. It was mad. But it was precisely what Sable had asked for, and something Stare knew the two ‘guests’ of Vitruvion would never get to do otherwise. Not under his watch, with his choice. Even if he had gone celibate suddenly, he trusted people so little he could not allow them to something as public as the theatre. Stare, Raevin and Ventrua were the only people he had some measure of confidence in. And Stare mostly because he was her god, and the fact he had access to her mind.

Not that he had been present recently.

Stare looked around them, spotting Blaze grumpily sulking along a few places behind them. Behind her the twin guards, whom Stare still did not know the names of but know well by sight, awkwardly strode. They tried to flank their usual quarry, but did so with a hesitation to the situation that made the kenku pleased.

Good. She was making everyone uncomfortable. Well so was she being forced to stay here.

Reaching the end of the corridor, before the great door Zulon paused, before looking back to Stare. “Miss Stare, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Stare gave him a blank look. It took him less than a second to understand her meaning and sigh before he gestured. A small gasp came from beside her. Looking to Sable Stare saw a blindfold being dressed over the young woman's eyes, and the same with Blaze. Rolling her own eyes she began to stride forwards, nudging past Zulon and into the main mess hall of the guards, that was the only way ultimately in or out of the Hollow.

A large room, with a roasting fire at one end. It was filled with guards, all hunkered over themselves, beer and tables, playing whatever games their seedy minds could - including strip poker. Some of them turned slightly and eyed up Stare, then nonchalantly glanced away. Others glanced with surprised at the two unbound females behind her who walked with a certain joy, and then shrugged and looked away again. It was a show, but nothing of too exciting an interest to drag them away from their games.
They made their way through the building, Stare getting faster and faster. At one point the guards were jogging to keep with her supernatural walking pace, until Zulon begged her to slow down. She did, if only for Sable who was mumbling as she blindly tripped over the hem of her cloak.

They gained eventually to the outside, where Vitruvion's finer carriage stood waiting, the emblem of the spread-winged owl that represented the house of Elssmith painted delicately onto the doors. A guard slid forward and opened the door, nodding a little to Stare as she grunted and climbed in.

Sable and Blaze were bidden to follow after, at which points their blindfolds were removed. Zulon slid in to the seat beside Stare, giving her the briefest of smiles as the two other women sat. There was only a short pause as the doors shut and the carriage’s inhabitants settled before it began to lurch and take them away.

“This is absolutely mad,” Zulon shook his head in disbelief. “I don't know how you talked me into this, nor how you plan on explaining it to him.” He glared at Sable and Blaze. “You two are far too honoured to have a friend like her. Any … anything and she will not be able to protect you.”

“Ah, Lady Tsukaka,” the man bowed deeply, a smile upon his lips. Gently, he kissed her hand, then rose, letting go of her fingers again.

Stare gave the small, but sure man before her a single, elegant nod that extended into a shallow bow of her own. “Lord Durvaney. Allow me to introduce my friends. Miss Ophelia Black and Miss … Fire. Cecilia Fire.”

The man’s eyes moved to either of Stare’s sides, touching briefly on the flaming red hair of Blaze and the dark hair of Sable. His eyes blinked a number of times before he replied. “Miss Black and Miss Fire of course.”

“And Sir Elssmith? He does not accompany you this evening?”

Stare looked back at the aristocrat, who had first called her Lady Tsukaka when he found out her name, assuming she was also nobility. Others too, now called her Lady Tsukaka, and neither her, nor, more importantly, Vitruvion had ever disagreed. She had never brought up the subject with him, and he never with her. It was a mild joy in her life, but nowhere nearing enough to take away the pain of a lot more else.

“No, he is out of town,” Stare said formally, “I can send him your regards if you wish.”

Lord Durvaney shook his head. “No, Lady Tsukaka, I am sure it is quite fine. I will see him soon. Now, I must find Mr Frendir Lorne.”

The name made Stare blink and by her side Blaze and Sable look alarmed. “Mr Lorne is here tonight?” Stare asked slowly, trying to hide the apprehension in her voice. Frendir was certainly not someone she wanted to see, not even in this grand entrance hall of the Beinost Central Theatre.

The noble smiled, looking right at her. “Of course, I invited him!”

Stare took a quick breath in, knowing it was most definitely time to get away. “Well, give him my felicitations, when you see him. Your lordship,” she inclined her head in farewell.

“Your ladyship,” Durvaney politely responded in kind. “Miss Black, and Miss Fire, and Mr Faren, as always.”

The last he addressed to Zulon, who nodded back. Then the lord smiled once more at them all before twisting on his heel and marching away.

Stare took in a long breath. Then -

“Miss Fire and Miss Black?! Really?”

“Lady Tsukaka?”

“Frendir? As in the Frendir?”

“Miss Stare, I think we should …”

It was too this last one that Stare responded. She grunted at the speaker - Zulon, or Mr Faren - and began to shift. As she did the retinue of around ten guards, most of them at least in some way dressed like they were going out for the evening, began to move also. Some were close, such as Zulon, but others were taking a wider berth to be more cautious than outright obvious.

Even so, they followed Stare’s guidance, eyes fixed upon her as she turned and began to head towards an elegant, wondering staircase. Behind her, Sable and Blaze guards pressed in, as much for Stare as the other two. Zulon pushed himself around to close to the front, his fingers tapping at the pocket where his hidden dagger was. Probably several..

They passed a young woman in neat uniform who recognised Stare and gave her a curt nod. There was no speaking as Stare climbed up the stairs, fingers intertwined, and back straight. They passed various people - lords, ladies, a duke and various diplomats - as they came into a long, curving corridor. It snaked around, was bathed in a deep red from the panelled walls, and had doors set into the innermost curved wall. Steadily they went, still in silence, until a single door marked 'Elmssith’ in small, golden script.

Stare had to admit it. There were definitely perks about her jobs. Her eyes shone with glee as she took a small key from the pouch at her belt and slid it into a lock. It clicked, and with a gentle push they came onto a box seat, with the curtains fully drawn across the balcony. Four seats were arranged in a rough square, one clearly grander than the rest. Tables were set between the two pairs of seats, with a pair of small binoculars set on each.

“This is it,” Stare grunted. “Curtains are in … twenty minutes or so.”

There was hesitation behind her. Stare looked over her shoulder to see Sable and Blaze standing awkwardly in the doorway, Blaze herself looking incredibly pale. The kenku eyed her, quickly looking into her aura to see that the redhead was experiencing anxiety and guilt. Pausing, Stare took a moment before moving back.

“What did you do Blaze?”

The woman shot her a frightful look as she took a step in. “What?”

Stare sighed and glanced to Sable, checking her emotions - but the young enthusiast was experiencing mostly just happiness.

“You did … something.” Stare huffed as Zulon stepped in after, concern written deep on his face. But the kenku kept her gaze on Blaze. “I do not control this night, aside from the decision to actually come here. He,” she gestured roughly at Zulon, “Can have us back in a single word, if he wanted, the arsehole gave him just enough authority for that before he left. Now what did-”

Blaze curled her lip hatefully, eyes darkening as she glared at Stare. “Fine, you bitch. I gave a note. Not going to tell you whom but-”

Stare nodded once, tilted her head around, remembering almost precisely what she had seen from the corner of her eye. It came to her suddenly, even though she had never precisely registered it at the time. There had been a man come close, and Blaze had been shifting awkwardly.

“When Lord Durvaney was speaking, tall man, old, white hair, had a rose at his collar.”

Zulon lifted his brows, but nodded once. He accepted Stare’s ability to see and be aware of what she could see, wholeheartedly. It was a surprise to her also that she remembered so much, and could recall it with such clarity. Though, as the words slipped from Stare’s mouth she felt a horrible twist of guilt in her stomach, she had known from the start there was no other way around the knowledge. Quickly, she looked over to Blaze, a brief look of apology there; the fiery woman twisted away, pressing her lips together and went to go slump into one of the seats at the front.

It had most likely been an attempt to make contact. The note would have said, 'Help, I have been kidnapped,’ or some such. Stare looked at the back of Blaze's head for a moment before she spoke. “You know I had to say something, Blaze,” she said, and none too calmly. “You can't just - you couldn't just -”

“Oh fuck off, you hypocritical bitch,” Blaze snapped back.

Stare breathed in sharply, folding her arms across her chest. There was silence for a moment before a quiet cough came. Stare looked over to see Zulon standing with Sanle just behind her, and more guards after that, some clearly anxious to get into the space now that Blaze had done what she had.

“I'll sort the note,” Zulon looked at the kenku. “You sit and relax.”

“Relaxing. Tell me what that is again?” Stare sarcastically replied. But she moved in order to let the two twins move into the space, one of them coming around to settle and stand right by Blaze.

Sable let out a small giggle. Stare glanced at her as more guards filled the box, though limiting themselves because of the space. Some remained outside, and Jordain loitered closely alongside Eirik, as if ready.

“You might as well sit as well,” Stare sighed. “I'll organise … refreshments. Whatever.”

The young woman before her paused a moment before setting a hand on Stare's arm. It was strange, a weird comfort of friendship that Stare was not used to, and that only people like Nevin dared to express. Slightly, she froze, panic rising for a moment alongside suspicion.

“What are you-"

“I know you cannot do anything more for us than this,” Sable whispered. And Stare was horribly, disgustingly reminded of what Sable now knew. “But thank you for it.”

The kenku was aware of how close Sable was to her dagger, neatly tied to her waist. She moved back a footstep, eyes like cautious knives. “Sable …”

But Sable seemed to misunderstand her apprehension. A small, sad smile appeared on the girl's face, and a look into the girl's chakras told Stare that she was feeling shame - but not for herself; for Stare. She felt sorry for Stare's situation, the 'captive’ she had called her.

“Thank you anyway,” Sable gently said, before finally stepping away. She removed her hand, and thankfully it was not full of anything. Turning slowly she glanced briefly at the guards around them and made her way to the chair beside the fuming Blaze.

Stare let out a long sigh. A lump was forming in her throat again, and thoughts were coming into her mind at how she needed to explain things to Sable. That it wasn't as bad as the girl thought. That Vitruvion was not harsh, that he paid her and gave her responsibilities. That the only reason he ever made Stare his property was to remind her just where her place was, who she belonged to and so that if she ever was to go missing then bounty hunters could -

But who trusted a bounty hunter these days? There was a guild of them who had been working with Vindrexis for some time now, and had been the ones responsible for kidnapping Stare. Naturally, Vitruvion and her had gone back and killed the remainder of them. Further to that they had found more of their hideouts, and lost mercenaries’ lives going to try to fight against them. They were monsters and brutes, who were far worse than any of the guards she knew. It was also the same guild who were responsible for the attack on Vitruvion's Grand Celestial Brewery outside of Radasanth, where Raevin had been poisoned by demonic magic and now had a leg missing, all because he had been working for the one man he held in higher esteem than anyone else.

Stare paused, as her breath caught in her throat. Had she really just - had she really just been defending Vitruvion in her mind and his life choices? The halves of her beak parted. He had enslaved her, raped her, bruised her to the point of nausea all because of his own anger. That anger she now understood to be rooted deep in the fury at his own father, who had created him and then tortured him for an unknown amounts of time before sending him here, to Althanas. Yet, it still did not make everything he had done right. He was a god, but he was also a manipulator, a kidnapper, a self-confessed bully, a possessive sociopath, a man who had changed who she was down to the core. Once, Stare would have looked at these girls and done everything she could to free them, even giving her life. Now, she worked with the guards, using her abilities (including that odd new one, apparently of exact remembrance) to keep Sable and Blaze prisoners. It was true, she was a hypocritical bitch, and she was getting worse.

“Ansaldo's balls,” she cursed silently, and looked at Eirik. “I give in. Just get the wine.”

And she went over to the fanciest chair and slumped in it, the steward of an absent god.

Quote:

---

‘Random Shakespeare quotes’ gained from here.

---

The play was mostly disappointing.

It was entitled, Phantom of the Nation, and was set in the time of the assault on Eluriand, when all but one of the High Bardic Council went missing. It told the story of a possible insider into the council, who was called Unqua Airen, or ‘hollow sea’, and his romance with the bard Aina Ingole. So far Unqua had poisoned a member of the Bardic Council, met with a corporal of Xem’Zund’s army, had a dramatic argument with Aina about what awaited them after death, and was now discussing an upcoming summer festival.

“Why doth mildewed heaven consummate not th' tide's festivities?” he was crying.

Aina responded, “O foul misfortune! Forsooth! Thou art th' jester's uncouth persecution.”

“Ah!” Unqua replied, “But thou art thy sovereign's fair wantonness.”

Stare leant back, a goblet of wine in her hand, feeling now more grumpy than she had to start with. Slouched in Vitruvion’s chair she felt worse about herself than she had in a while, but with the realisation that she could do nothing about it, that she was now defending him in her mind before remembering just how awful her life was. She drunk back a swig of wine, huffing into the cup as she watched the stage between the two seats that Sable and Blaze took up.

Sable at least was enjoying it. It had been her idea to come to the theatre, and she seemed entirely passionate about it, leaning forwards with large eyes and causing her guard closeby to become agitated and be now inches from her. Their box had received various strange looks, because of the amount of standing guards surrounding them, but it was only slightly more than some others. Stare knew that an advisor to the Bardic Council was here tonight and his own box had four black-suited elves, each with obvious weaponry and emblazoned heraldry. Their own box with the guards, who were also mercenaries, had no sort of livery. Personally Stare knew that Raevin had worn a small owl pendant around his neck, but that been his choice, after a long friendship with his employer.

“Wherefore doth evil history grant not pardon for the sovereign's regal bosoms? Yea!”

Unqua was already suggesting that there would be a female sovereign, as if he had been part of the design for the Council to be reduced down to one member. Certainly, that particular line had caught the attention of the advisor, and Stare saw him sit up straighter. For herself, however, she was still depressed, and she could see from Blaze’s similar pose that she was utterly bored. Not even this new revelation in the play could excite her. The redhead scowled into her own glass as Unqua said to Aina:

“O Cupid’s target! Thou art the stars' own base love.”

Stare yawned, extending her beak halves and looked over the seat beside her, that was occupied by Zulon. He was vaguely watching the play, but more focused on their general party. He had come in, with the note stuffed in his pocket and given one nod to Stare to say he had managed to salvage their problem. Then he had sat down, but ever since been on the edge of his seat, and not because he was intrigued for the theatre. Rather, he was anxious for this whole event, and his point had been made by Blaze’s attempt.

He caught her glance and raised a brow. Grunting back quietly Stare pulled more wine down her throat and sat up a little more, realising she was sliding down the chair. She yawned slightly, looked around for the rest of the bottle of wine, and listened to Aina ranting back at Unqua as she found out he was secretly spying on the member of the Council that he served.

“O unworthy indignity! Thou art th' earth's wretched mischief.”

“Wretched mischief, indeed,” muttered Stare as she found the wine on the table close by.

Blaze looked over, blinking flatly. Her lips were pursed and she glared a little as Stare held out the wine, offering it to her first. For a moment the redhead just stared before sighing and extending an arm, giving not so much of a smile but at least a gratitudinal shrug. The bottle swung out, Zulon cautiously umpiring the exchange, and it was almost completed before Blaze suddenly looked up - then froze.

Utterly stunned. Even her chest stopped rising as she let out a small gasp, and her fingers balanced on the bottom of the bottle stilled. Furrowing her brow, Stare pulled back the wine, seeing that Blaze was focused over her shoulder. She also noticed that the room was deadly silent, aside from a gentle click of the door.

Someone was coming in?

Realising that, she herself turned, slowly around. The room spun as she did, the wood and elegant velvet curtains, with the dark forms of the guards all around. Lighter than that a new form was entering, taller than most and with longer hair than most, his eyes full of haunted darkness as they came to settle on hers.

Blue eyes. So familiar blue eyes.

“Fuck,” she whispered as she saw Vitruvion enter their lives again after three bountiful, life-changing weeks.

The first thing she did was stand, rushing out of the seat - [i]his[/] seat - and set the wine, and her goblet down. Heart racing she scuttled back a pace, pulling back herself to be somewhere between Blaze and Zulon, who himself was now easing to his feet. Everyone was on edge - and for good reason. What would their employer, master and imprisoner ultimately think of them, taking this risk to bring Sable and Blaze to the theatre.

Only Sable seemed to not be aware. Still, she was keenly watching the play, biting her lip with anticipation as Unqua gained closer to Aina, trying to reason with her as sexual tension thrummed around the stage.

But not in the box.

He looked better than she had seen in the Radasanth house, through the mirror, but still drawn and tired. Clearly there had not been any good news. His eyes remained locked on hers as he came forwards, slowly moving across the floor, his cane entirely gone but now the tip of a scabbard appearing beyond his jacket. Behind him the door clicked shut, and it was at this point that Sable finally came to pay attention. She turned around, first seeing everyone still and silent and started to ask, “What is …” but soon enough she saw the centre of their focus.

“Oh shhi-”

“Sir,” Zulon interrupted quietly, straightening and quickly giving a shallow bow. “We did not expect you back so …”

Early? Dramatically? Without any form of pre-warning?

Vitruvion’s eyes were still on Stare’s, focused on her with a powerful look that was somewhere between a glare and a passionate fixation. The kenku remained where she was, close to Blaze, and with her hands now anxiously digging their claws into each other before her. She steadily held his gaze, though was far more filled with stress than any of his intensity. For one she knew she would not back down until he did.

Yet, finally he looked away from her, moving his gaze to settle on Zulon. Stare was suddenly thankful that he had spoken, for it had torn away the focal point from her. She imagined other people possibly watching their box must be confused, and thinking that whatever drama was going on was more interesting than the play.

“I did not plan on coming back,” Vitruvion replied in a mutter. “But the opportunity was there.”

“Of course,” Zulon nodded. Then he paused. “What shall we …”

Slowly Vitruvion sucked in his breath. His eyes flickered around the room, touching briefly on Blaze and Sable, who shrank away slightly. She herself was looking from Stare to Vitruvion, filled with the new knowledge that she now had. Stare could only imagine what was going on in her mind. As Vitruvion looked at some of the guards he grunted before beginning to move, stepping forwards towards the chair Stare had just exited.

Zulon moved right back, smiling apologetically to her, even though none of this was his fault. There was a soft sound as Vitruvion partially collapsed in the chair, and considering what his last three weeks had been, Stare was not surprised he looked the way he did. She saw his eyes stray over to the wine, blinking at it. Sable and Blaze still watched him cautiously, as the production continued below and Aina and Unqua passionately kissed.

Huffing, and realising that her short holiday was over, possibly the only one she’d ever have, Stare shifted. He was looking at wine, and did not have a cup to put it in. It was not entirely past him to drink from the bottle, but there was other possibilities here. Right at the end of the corridor was a small bar, where she was now going to aim. It would also give her a moment to gasp in peace, to silently understand that he was back.

Loosening her cupped hands she picked up her feet to begin to walk.

But something stopped her. Fast and strong a sudden hold flashed out and fastened over her wrist. It was not tender or gentle, but rather brutal. Before she could even glance down it tightened and dragged her roughly back.

A gasp came to her beak, and there were other shocked, muffled ones surrounding, as it yanked, forcing her twist around and shoved her into the spare chair.

She fell back, eyes now full of fear. The hand let go, but she had now been told where she was, and what her position should be. Breathing accelerated she stared down at her lap, as Vitruvion leaned away from her, a snarl on his lip.

“You are not going anywhere,” he hissed. “Understand?”

The display of power was not something that the guards were stranger to - his temper, and the way he treated her when he was truly frustrated. Yet to Sable and Blaze, especially the latter who had called her ‘hypocritical’ not two hours before, this was different. This was a world that they believed she had left, with benefits like money and position instead her kin.

“Stare?!” he sharply whispered.

Once, she nodded, shifting herself to more comfortably sit. She sucked in her breath, then swallowed, the knowledge that he was back as plain as day now obvious before her. Slowly she closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of Blaze and Sable staring at her, breathing in and out slowly to quell her shaking heart. He was back. It was clear. Back in her life, back in her mind, and pissed off because someone sick and evil and twisted had stolen his sister and not even the pantheon of gods that were worshipped in this land could help. There was deathly silence, as only a stun could take effect now. The sounds of a cup being dropped, then wine being poured came. And the dim voices of Unqua and Aina filtered up from the stage as her world settled back into normality.

Opening her eyes again she looked to her left and saw the wine in her goblet was not all finished. Vitruvion was now leaning back in his chair, though his eyes still had the same haunted look in them, and he was watching the play. Sable somehow was absorbed again, her focus on the stage and Blaze was awkwardly sitting, jaw fixed and not looking anywhere in particular.

Stare leant over slowly, back towards her goblet. Out of the corner of his eye Vitruvion saw her and she paused for a moment, but he did nothing. Taking this as permission to continue she took up her goblet, filled it with more wine and sat back again, still slumped in misery but now with wine.

Eventually Blaze focused back on the play. There was considerably more tension now in the box, but that was not surprising. Vitruvion seemed content enough to sit there, drinking, allowing the event to take place instead of ordering them all back to the Hollow. That, at least, was a blessing. It was only ten minutes before he finished the rest of the bottle of wine and another had to be requested. Stare waited until he was done before he placed the bottle down and wordlessly slid it over to her. Grabbing it, she filled her goblet again, and did not even look at him before she began to drink. If there was one habit she had learnt from him, it was that wine made everything better. When before she had never been much of an alcohol consumer, now she was, and she even knew that certain years were better. For instance a Bear Canyon Winery late last decade merlot was always better than a earlier merlot from
Champs de Lazare, and the Tolli Kuruvar Bros Winery had an excellent range of cabernets with exotic white pepper midtones.

The interval came. The performer who played Unqua announced to the audience that there would be fifteen minutes of time before the shorter second half. Some sighs came, and some people from the pit of the theatre began to stand, even gathering their belongings to signal that the play was so dull they were going to leave. Stare saw Sable despair a little when the young woman saw that, her eyes widening and her body suddenly stiffening and looking back over her shoulder to Vitruvion, fearing he was about to do the same. The white haired man though did not move, but rather drank back more wine, his eyes focused on the boxes.

“Sir Tirion Nimloth,” he gestured at the box that housed the advisor to the Council. “That man is an absolute [i]metta[/].”

Stare knew that word meant ‘butt’ in Raiaeran elvish. Her brow shot up when she heard Vitruvion use such language, and she glanced over, confused at his temperament.

“Flatly refused me access to the court,” he growled. “So I appeared directly in Lady Nalith’s bedchamber.”

He was not smiling. Blaze and Sable were looking at him with wide, startled eyes, and a couple of the guards looked shocked too. On the other hand Stare found herself not entirely surprised and she drank as she looked at the advisor getting up to shake the hand of some aristocrat. She did not give her own commentary, for it did not seem still the correct moment, and her heart was still racing from being shoved back into the chair. With the mood he was in, as well, she did not know if he would allow her even comment, or instead tell her to shut up, which was common in his duller moods. Thus, she remained grumpily silent.

“Did you know Frendir was coming this evening?” he asked.

There was a moment of quiet.

“Stare?” he pushed for an answer and there was impatience in his voice. It was if he did not even notice that Sable and Blaze were in the same room and treating this like an ordinary conversation between the two of them.

“No,” she answered simply, quietly.

“I see,” he pursed his lips before drinking some more. “And that is Lord Durvaney. You gave him my greetings.”

“Yes,” she replied, shoving the memory at the forefront of her mind.

There was a moment before she felt the presence of his mind once more comfortably align itself against hers, appearing for the first time in two weeks. She visibly twitched slightly as he prodded at her awareness, and then sucked in her breath as his mind explored further, snatching up the memory of seeing Durvaney and sorting through it. Vitruvion’s eyes became slightly unfocused, and she slumped back a little, waiting for him to be done his invasive examination. It was likely he would take some time that evening sorting through all of her memories of the last few days. She wondered if at all yet he would be able to do so without her knowing he was there, or if his power had gotten great enough that he could pit out her mind without her feeling his presence, like he had always been able to do with her surface thoughts.

“Good enough,” he finally said, when he was apparently done. Blaze and Sable were still watching warily, but their bodies had turned back around to look outwards at the audience and the stage.

Stare leant forwards, before setting down her goblet. “I need to piss,” she stated flatly, and there was truth in the matter. It was all the wine.

The god took a moment to curl his lip, but nodded. “Fine. But do not be long.”

She rocked forwards onto her feet and looked at Sable only briefly, who smiled very faintly and encouragingly. The kenku gave a meaningful look back before turning. As she began to walk out Zulon shrugged away from the wall, as well as Jordain, and the two of them slipped in place behind her.

She was long. In fact, she took as long as she dared, taking full minutes to stare at herself in the mirror and try to calm herself down. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, and a heaviness was at the back of her throat.

He was back, and there was nothing she could do about it. Apparently now she was not even allowed to be out of his sight unless it was so the bathroom. It was obvious he had not had hope with Ventrua, and Stare honestly felt a pit of despair there, for the half-goddess as well as Vitruvion whose world was being hammered in several places. Raevin was severely injured, and needing to stay in Radasanth where he could gain treatment. Tinash, Vitruvion’s closest friend in the Hollow, was dead. The ships in the merchant business that brought the fabrics from across the world to Beinost had been reduced to one now, with it needing more money poured in for security. And now Ventrua was missing, gone from their lives so suddenly and not even a plethora of gods and queens knew where she was …

So it made sense that Vitruvion wanted her close by. Stare just wished he could have done it more subtly, and not let his anger rule his actions to drag her back to him like she was some vagabond. The public display, even in front of Sable and Blaze made it worse, for it showed the capabilities that he had and his willingness to be violent towards her.

Still. After everything. At least he could be content that she did as he told her, and their relationship had gotten to the point where she was far more willing to serve him. Hope still blossomed in her chest of a better world where he was a better man, and one sign that it was happening was the fact he had not ‘entertained’ Blaze or Sable for three months.

Though that could simply be that he had lost his appetite for sex because of the situation.

Stare sighed at herself, rubbing at her beak as she realised the time for the interval to end was only in a couple of minutes. Leaning away from the sink she checked that she still looked presentable, as Vitruvion would wish and opened the door to the corridor.

He was there himself, pacing. Zulon and Jordain were still there along with Eirik, quietly in the background. As soon as she stepped out Vitruvion stopped, twisting around to glare emphatically at her.

“I told you to not be long,” he snarled, eyes mad.

She took in a long, exhaustive breath, dropping her gae to the floor. “I needed time. To myself. You know that.”

“I still told you not to be, Stare. Yet you were. Specifically against what I said.”

“Yes, sir,” was the only thing she could manage, her hands curling into fists, as threats of tears began to swell up behind her eyes. Vehemently, she fought them. Tears would not come, not in a thousand years.

He was silent for some time. So she took a step forwards, back in the direction of the box.

He moved faster. Rapidly he started the few steps that separated their distance and she let out a honestly frightened gasp. Quickly pressing herself up against the wall she was by she dug claws into flesh, breathing accelerating as she prepared to be pummelled, assaulted, sworn at, shouted at, whatever he was going to do. And she would stand there, and take it, because she knew his anger was fueled by something far darker than just fury at her for taking so long in the toilet. Because she knew there was horror beyond what her life had been in the Hollow. Because she knew there were more horrible villains beyond him, who could be making her life more of a miserable hell and did not want her to leave their sight simply because he wanted to protect her …

Slam!

A hand came down. But it did not land on her body, or face or beak. Rather it landed by her head, hitting the wall, palm flat. She now looked right at him, right into his eyes and stood perfectly still as he stepped close to her. Suddenly she was reminded of when she had first woken up from finding out she was immortal, and her emotions had been so erratic that she had mistakenly harmed someone. Quite literally she had been chained to the headboard of a bed to stop herself from harming anyone else. And herself. Or just so he could control her as he gave her the news of eternity.

His body came within inches of hers. Over her he stood, so she was forced to look up into his eyes. They were still ice blue, but held a darkness in them that was terrifying, a growing personal fear deep within him. She could only imagine the poisonous thoughts in his mind that had drive him to despair, to three weeks of endlessly wandering and now - now he was back without her. Stare knew he would have done everything within his power to try to find Ventrua.

“You,” he whispered, and his voice was suddenly not angry. Instead it was full of sorrow, deeply connected to terror and desperation, “are not leaving my sight. Not until our world has restored order, until Raevin is better, until - until -”

He breathed out, narrowing his eyes, curling a hand around her shoulder.

“Do you understand, Stare? You are to go nowhere without my express permission. Everything - your friends, your work, your life - is put on hiatus. No unexplained trips, definitely not like the one you just had.” She felt a twinge of guilt at that, knowing that it was going to be mentioned. “Which, was completely inappropriate. Call this a punishment if you want for that, I do not care.” He paused, “Actually, it is, damn you.”

He lifted his hand from her shoulder, as his voice slipped back to one more of anger. “You put both yourself and Zulon in a state of unnecessary risk, and broke my trust. I told you to remain within the watch of him, and you did not.” He raised his hand from her shoulder and cupped the underside of my beak. His face came closer to hers and she felt light headed.

“You are mine, Stare,” he murmured to hers, “no one else’s. Do you-”

“Oh my … fuck …”

Both their gazes snapped around.

Sable was standing at the curve of the corridor, eyes wide. Behind her was a guard, awkwardly pausing as the young woman fluttered her hand up to her mouth. Vitruvion removed only his hand from the underside of Stare’s beak, leaning away from her slightly as he narrowed his eyes at Sable.

“What are you doing here?”

“It explains everything,” Sable whispered. “Every-fucking-thing. I didn’t realise, because who the hells thought it was possibly but, oh my Galatirion …”

“Leave that bastard out of this,” Vitruvion snapped.

“Sure, if you pray to another but …” Sable shook her head. “But that still means … fuck …”

Stare felt woozy, with all this sudden change in action. She slid her eyes closed and leant back against the wall, wishing Sable would just leave so Vitruvion could finish his rant. So, he wanted to keep her by his side constantly, that was the next plan to keep her safe. It was crazy, really, nothing had happened to her yet but she supposed …

“You’re actually in love with her.”

“You… you love her. You really love her.”

They were words from another time. Some months ago, when the worries of today had not majorly been an issue, when Stare was able to walk free by herself and operate in business of her own accord. When she had not known she was immortal, when friends were simply friends and her god was just that, when Nevin had figured out the truth of what Vitruvion was and spoken the words.

“You… you love her. You really love her.”

Later that same day Vitruvion had translated it to Stare as the love a god has for a subject. Nothing more, nothing less. She was his high priestess in another life, his genesis of a kingdom he longed to build but was ultimately forbidden to do. That had been easy to understand, to come to a sane conclusion about, and it had been the easy truth for sometime.

But now. Now …

“You’re actually in love with her.”

That was another matter entirely. Stare looked at Sable as if she was mad. Because the woman was, it was crazy, suggesting such a thing. Vitruvion was her god, not some lovesick fool who chased around a girl just because he fancied her.

But then, he had never chased her around. Instead he had linked their minds, made her his legal possession and made her immortal just so she could stay with him for eternity. Indeed, the former two had been during the time when she had been fighting his authority, but the latter? What had Vitruvion said when she asked why he had made her immortal?

“I decided that I refused to live without you. Not that I could not live with you, but I would not. I refused, and I still refuse.”

Refused to live without her. Had this conclusion been staring her in the face all this time and she had just refused to believe it was even possible?

Maybe it was not though. Maybe it was just a suspicion on Sable’s part. With that in mind, and that forming the process of her mind she sucked into her breath and filled herself with confidence that that was all it was. Because he couldn’t. He wouldn’t …

Looking up, she prepared herself to see his denial.

What she saw, however, changed her entire life.

He did not look at her. Instead he was facing Sable, and his eyes were wide. His body was rigid, and now he was leaning away from Stare, his hands by his side, curled into light fists. Unsteadily his chest rose and fell, filled with anxiety, which was not an emotion she normally would associated with him and his eyes - his eyes …

Were lacking in anger. In hatred and spite. Instead they were filled with a great loss, an insecurity that Stare had never dreamed to see in him before. Slowly he swallowed, one fist clenching as he tried to open his lips to speak, then failed. There was a deep sorrow somewhere within him that refused to die, and was now living wild and free, alongside a desperation in his stance and reluctance.

Reluctance to admit it?

Reluctance to let her go?

Holy mother of …

Stare pushed herself rapidly away from the wall. Her attention was on him, disbelief, shock and horror flooding through her. How could he? How could he be in love with her? How dare he first of all, with all that he had put her through, and secondly how … just how?! It made no sense - or, if you looked at it, it made perfect sense. All his obsession with her, all of his desire to keep her near him. It was not just possession, it was beyond that, it was a deep love that he had never expressed, probably tortured himself trying to deny it, hoped to never even tell her until now.

Quite desperately, she backed up against the corridor. At first she slid along the wall, but then she was walking backwards. She saw Sable gasp and point at her, Stare decided to turn and begin to run because all she wanted was to be out of that place, away, outside, away from him, from it all, from all of them.

Arms caught her. Strong, warrior arms. They wrapped around her upper body, pinning her arms to her side and someone deeply whispered in her ear, “It is okay, Miss Stare.”

A deep voice, a familiar voice. One that she had not heard in a long time but had once been the only friendly one in this life …

Brer. Gently, but firmly he held her as she struggled, twisting against him. “Let me go!” she yelled at him, “let me go, bloody hell!”

“Miss,” he grumbled, holding her. No, hugging her in comfort. “It will be okay.”

“NO!” she yelled. “I want - I need to - just -”

A sudden blue light appeared. A shimmering rounded thing, pulsating rhythmically and familiarly. It grew, blossoming out before it was a portal of sorts, a void in which one could step and be away from this forever.

“Go then,” a hoarse voice said quietly. “You need to go, then go. Brer, let her go. You stay here, however.”

The half giant paused, but loosened his hold. Softly he murmured to her, “it's the only option for now, Miss.”

Stare shivered, and leant against the man. She tilted her head up to him, tears beginning to run. “I - I -”

He nodded slowly, and pushed her towards the portal.

“See you soon.”

More figures moved at the edge of her vision. One of them was tall and pale, with laboured breathing. That one she did not want anywhere near her right now, even though he had just said that he never wanted her to leave his side now, that she was to remain within his sights. He had made a portal - Stare did not know where it would go. Hells, it could lead to a cell, in which to keep her prisoner forever and day. But so long as she was fed - right now anywhere was better than here.

So she shrugged away, and staggered through the light. It absorbed her, swirled around her and enveloped her.

She breathed out, stepped through.

Was carried beyond.

She staggered as she landed, her feet weak and her body trembling. The floor beneath her was cold, but it was comforting as she unsteadily stumbled over it, reaching for the first piece of furniture she found. That was an armchair, and she hung off the back of it for dear life, her breathing and pulse capricious.

Unsteadily she looked around her, glancing to see where he had sent her. Part of her hoped it was some wild garden where she could run and be free before he came after her, another part wanted it to just be a cold-barred cage, where she could curl up and starve herself. Instead it was a place that was familiar - the antechamber within the Hollow, with the fake fireplace and the door that led into his bedroom. Comfort and familiarity, but not as good as her bedroom in the mansion would have been. Carefully she sucked in her breath, trying to still the tears that were running in rivers down her face from eyes that had never cried since her liberation to the mansion.

How long had he realised? How long had he denied his feelings for her before he finally opened up to them, admitted to himself and likely sworn never to tell her? Perhaps he had tried to pretend it was not true. Perhaps, when Sable had first said those words he had growled and shaken his head and threatened her. Because that was his way. That was what he usually did. He was a sadist, a demon of a god whom she abhorred to think had those sort of feelings for her, but whom she could now, most definitely, never get away from.

Unless she left now. Now she could get a rest bite. Some minutes of running free before Brer found her and held her still again.
At least the giant was back from his adventures of leading the security at the Celestial Brewery.

She looked towards the door. It was not that far from where she currently stood, and it was emotions, not a lack of physical energy. Though in some ways they were one and the same. Stare had to find something within her, a might that was deep. She shook though, uncontrollably, as more tears wrecked her body, as life’s hardships became, in this moment, too hard to bare, as the knowledge that he had never told her … Ansaldo's balls beyond.

The wall would do first. Summoning what courage she could she stood tall, and then pushed herself away from it. Two staggered steps took her over to the wall, which she slumped against. Swallowing tightly she tried to end the tears before rolling onto her side and using the wall as a support to head over to the door.

Slowly, but surely, she made her way. Her claws scraped out and grasped at the handle. Using it as the newest crutch she leant on it heavily, tugging it open violently.

Behind it were three guards, blinking at her. One was Granit, the dwarf she knew vaguely who smiled awkwardly at her. He had a crossbow supported readily in his hands.

“Ah, Miss … Miss Stare …” he said with uncertainty. “You're …”

Stare could see the other guards shifting anxiously and twisting to face her. Eyes narrowing past the wet she stared at them one by one, clearly an issue in their minds.

“What is it?” she asked coldly.

“Sir - Sir Elssmith said if we were to see you that … that we should not let you leave that room. That if you were elsewhere to take you to it and to … keep you in there until he was back.”

So he had returned here, then gone to the theatre. Rather than look in her mind and make the connection again so quickly he had relied on instinct, been told where she truly was and ended up meeting here there. Clearly his plan had been to have her escorted her just in case she was wondering through some street somewhere.

“I could take you all,” she growled darkly. “Kill you even. Right here and right now.”

There were sharp breaths. She saw one of them grip the hilt of his sword tighter and another begin to lower himself into a ready fighting crouch. Granit, however, was the one to quickly speak.

“I have no doubt you could Miss, but this is Sir Elssmith. I do not want to but we have been permitted to say it is an order.”

Stare glared at them for a moment, her body trembling as she breathed in fury. She stood there, on the threshold of indecision as she faced a very temporary freedom against a direct command from her god. It took many things, including her own personal pain, to stop herself from wrecking agony on all of their bodies. An order. He had given them.permission to say it was an order. How dare he, in this circumstance. Even if he hadn't known it would come to this, she didn't care. How dare he, how fucking dare he!

She slammed the door in their faces, then twisted sharply around. Finding a renewed strength in her anger she slumped over to the closest sofa and threw herself down on it. For a while she lay face-down, tangled in amongst the cushions and thinking about how much she hated her life right now, and how much she hated him. She let out her stare upon the cushions, causing skin death the thing that wasn't living before the discomfort became too much.

Then she turned onto her side and faced the back of the sofa, lying there into the small hours, and the light of the candles all but ran out.

It was many hours later when the door opened. Stare had not slept at all, but rather cried until no tears could come anymore. Then she had curled up tight, closing her eyes and lying there in silence, listening to just the emptiness of her haunted mind. The mind that was not free, her body that was not free, her whole life that was not free.

The door slid open and there was no need to question who it was. Footsteps scraped across the ground, and a soft, weary sigh came from between lips as the figure carried himself over the floor. They were in almost darkness, but he was a god and could see as well as she could in it. She heard him slump into an armchair, somewhere close by, the furniture creaking - then quiet fell again.

It was a long few minutes before she spoke.

“You're never going to let me go, are you?” she asked quietly, painfully, in a croaked voice that needed water but had refused to get up.

A low murmur told her all: “I cannot, Stare.”

There was a long pause before he whispered again, and the voice was honest, brutal and self-loathing. “I think it best,” he began slowly, “if we agree to never speak of this night. It was never meant to be uttered, and it would be best if it never were again.”

“It doesn't change the fact that it was though, Vitruvion,” she whispered. “It still - still -”

Hurt? Scarred? Made her furious, and panicked and highly anxious to the point where all she wanted to do was scream into the air again and again and again ...

“And if it were not for Sable, it would never have,” he replied quickly. “She also swore to not talk about the ownership issue.”

“Fuck you,” Stare breathed, “for ever doing that to me.”

There was no answer to that, only a sharp draw of breath. Stare could hardly believe that the man who would enslave her was also in love with her, even if he was her god also. For that she was talking to Vitruvion as a mortal, a simple fellow man of maximum seventy years or so. If he had been better, if that had all been true then maybe …

She shook herself, burying her beak between her arms. No, that was stupid to consider. This man had begun their relationship by kidnapping, then raping. That was not normal, no matter if - she paused as a thought struck her. He had not used Sable or Blaze for three months, had not touched them or had them abused. Was it possible that that was because of how she felt about it? Because she was so disgusted and it filled her mind everyday that those thoughts had become toxic to him, changing the way that he thought and acted? Pausing, she blinked, a rare moment of bliss in this terrible time. Was it actually possible that she had succeeded in that? Making him behind to hate his own actions, which had begun as a campaign to take his revenge out on mortality which he saw as an enemy, but now he had ceased in part because he was fond of her? Who had once been a mortal?!

But now, thanks to him, and his desperation to never see her go, he had made her immortal.

“That is a decision I do not regret,” he murmured softly, “And I never will.”

“Vitruvion,” she replied abjectly, “Please leave me alone. Please. I don't want - anything.”

There was a long pause. Then the shuffling of fabric before he began to move, easing himself out of the chair. The noise ceased a moment as he whispered a few last words.

“It isn't … safe anywhere, Stare. You need to stay in here. For your sake … and for mine. I know you will hate me saying this but I am still your god, and your employer.”

She grabbed the cushion by her hands and pulled it over her head. “Please, my lord” she mumbled, “just go.”

“And get something to eat, to drink. I'll have Brer come, you like-”

“I want to starve and die here,” she rasped, “I want to fall away to nothing, to dust and not be seen again.”

“If you do, then I'll see you when you are better, my dearest,” he replied softly. But that was the last thing he said. He twisted around and left the room, only footfalls and no tapping of his cane. Only the rocking of another door being closed.

He threw himself down on the bed, and it was not long until he was in a similar foetal position. Still, his shoes were on and he lay there for some time before he growled and licked them violently off. With his supernatural strength in assistance they flew across the room and smashed into the cabinet, making a loud raucous that would have sent guards running - had he not ordered them to stay that night, no matter what.

Naturally, he had never once been planning to tell her. Instead he had hoped that those feelings that had blossoming, and which he had only fully admitted to himself around three months prior, would die away, like his love for all mortality had once before. After coming here, and then suffering the loss of his pegasus Venesse fifty years , anger had struck. He lost his position in the army, learnt he had been betrayed and his flying beauty killed by the same side. Various attempts at relationships, reasoning methods, therapy sessions, but nothing had worked. All the years of anger for being tortured by his own divine father had flooded back and he had reverted to that base, natural way of thinking about mortals.

As his tools.

But it could only last for so long. First he had met an elf named Raevin who and made him see value in treating those he employed at least well - a pact of loyalty being the integral part. Second he had then met a kenku, whose mind he had invaded originally in order to control her, but who had now slowly begun to remember what being generous and benevolent was like.

What it once was like. It had not changed that he still craved power more than anything, and that his obsession with her and made him take various large steps so that she would never be able to leave him. Nor ever.

Grabbing a pillow he shoved it where it was most comfortable for his head. He then shrugged off his jacket, pausing to feel the weight of his dagger at his side, before he huffed and took that off also.

Sable had been unusually willing to assist. When they had got back to the Hollow - because, they all had to admit it, a secret underground world was the safest place right now and he couldn't exactly just let Sable and Blaze go - Sable had quietly asked to speak with him. It had taken only a few seconds for her to admit trying to seek a way to destroy him in the bedroom, when she had found the slavery papers.

But then she had offered something else. Something that nobody could have even suggested, as she overwhelmingly leaked empathy and pity over anything else.

“I don't need to be pitied,” he had spat.

“No, but you do need to know what it is like,” Sable answered back. “I may have come here, Sir Elssmith as another frightened girl but I have made myself learned and smart since coming here.”

“And how the fuck does that help my issue that she will not speak to me?” He growled. “No thanks in part to you,” and he shoved a finger in her face.

Sable ignored it gracefully. “It does not. However, I can at least give you something she clearly will not. It's the same room, right? I do not need to look like her but …”

And he had stared like she was mad.

“It's about respect,” Sable had explained. “You do not respect her as you should. You have been through hell, clearly, the last three weeks - but remember that she went through hell too. That you made her endure.”

“I stopped as soon as I had any inkling of what she meant to me,” he had hissed.

“Which is good, but you still stole her life. Like you've stolen mine,” she shrugged, confidently. “Now, Sir Elssmith, shall we?”

And he had lain with her. He had treated he would a whore, spent a few gentle hours simply treating her well, stopping when she wanted, making love, but full of consent. No ropes, chains and certainly no cane that had been his icon. He had just opened himself to the idea that it could be, trusted himself to not harm this woman.

Simple, basic sex was all it had been.

Like a whore, he had used Sable, after the invitation had been from her. And it had been strange - but something he needed.

Slowly he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Tightening his jaw he focused himself, throwing his awareness away from the world - away from Stare, away from his repeated attempts to mentally connect to Ventrua, away from the rock on which he lived. Away from it he pulled, letting out a breath as it felt his presence left his body and suddenly he was floating upwards.

Towards the ceiling - but that quickly melted away. And then he was reaching out, extending through time and space as his mental capacity, which was gaining traits akin to a god now, expanded in the freedom of bodilessness. Nay, he could not be omnipotent anymore - that was still beyond him - but at least he could feel and be aware of many more things. He cycled through what was a familiar path now and came to a small, awkward world which was taken up by half a continent and the other half ocean. A second flying landmass also hovered some distance above the seas, but it was still far smaller than the first. Vitruvion gazed at this world, his home world, for one long moment, letting out a sigh of loss, before he turned to the sky.

There he was … or should he say ‘it’. Ansaldo, the being beyond the stars, a selfish god in a lonely world. All snow-white haired in this, the non-physical plane, with startling blue eyes and a defined jaw that was so similar to Vitruvion's aside from the fact it supported a short, styled beard.

Currently he seemed to be watching a war, that likely he had begun. And as was familiar these past few months, he did not notice Vitruvion.

Which was good. Stare was useful for many things, and this was one of them. Making him powerful enough to be able to come back here, undetected. For a while he loitered at the edge of Ansaldo's planet, hovering and knowing that now he could never be the disgusting, murderer of a god that Ansaldo could be. That building his kingdom of the Hollow on the model of Ansaldo's world had all been a great mistake. Force your people to become your subjects, that was how it worked of course.

Vitruvion squared his shoulders before focusing on the being before him, and then rushed the mind. Quite easily, like other times, he slipped past Ansaldo's defences and made his way into the memories. From there he paused, looking around the halls before choosing an avenue.

Today he would continue with learning about the more intricate matters of molecular biology.

He settled and began to look at the strands of what Ansaldo called 'life strings’ but what Vitruvion had decided to name 'helixi exemplum vitae’ or the 'helixes that copy life’. He huffed and tried to rid himself of all the mortal world's worries by improving his ken.

And tomorrow ... Tomorrow he would stay quietly in the same room as her, not moving even when she begged. Because he couldn't let her out of his sight now, not when all hope had been lost with Ventrua.

He couldn't lose the one being that mattered more to him than his own happiness.

EXPERIENCE
5434 exp

GOLD
432g

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