The Disappearance Of Lady Heysan

[Stare]

“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?”

[Stare]

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 …”

[Stare]

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?”

[Stare]

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.”

[Stare]

“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.”

[Stare]

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.

[Stare]

‘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.

[Stare]

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.

[Stare]

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.

[Stare]

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.