The Keep, Ebon Askavi, Sometime in the FUTURE and a Universe Over
The atmosphere in the Keep was tense. Jaenelle had retreated to her suites completely and Daemon was stalking through the hallways like an angry black crow. More reports were coming in from Glacia, more attacks on villages, some by the pair masquerading as Lucivar and Daemon, still others by 'freedom fighters' backed by Hobart.
Karla and Rook had been rescued from the estate in Sidra almost four weeks ago. A few days later, Jaenelle had summoned the entirety of her First Circle to the Keep to prepare for war. Two weeks ago, Karla had disobeyed her Healer and her common sense and had left the sickroom, refusing to remain abed any longer. A few days ago, Karla had disobeyed her Queen and left the Keep.
In the intervening days, there'd been neither sign nor word from her.
Just like there'd been no word from Luthvian. Or from Marion and Daemonar.
Between the list of the missing and the dead, the Keep was like a powder keg just waiting for a spark.
Raven's Messenger
They were going to want to kill this messenger. But he was fairly confident they wouldn't dare.
His Lady had given him a mission. He had to complete it.
Draca, Seneschal of the Keep
"Yess?" Draca appeared at his elbow with no more warning that that. "You wissh to ssee the Lady?"
Without giving him time to answer, she turned and began walking down the endless maze of corridors. "Then follow me. Do not fall behind. The Keep iss not fond of misscreantss."
Raven's Messenger
He tried to strut to show he wasn't intimidated. And he wasn't, not by humans, but he couldn't tell what this person was.
"The Lady wants to see me," he told the lizard-woman's back. "So that's your problem if I get lost."
Draca
"Given who her father iss, I have no doubt sshe will hear the newss you bring no matter what," Draca said, voice cool. "In fact, sshe may prefer it that way."
Whether it was some trick of Craft, or simply that Jaenelle's rooms were very close to the receiving room Raven's messenger had waited was unimportant. But a few twists and turns later, and Draca was opening a large door and bowing. "Lady. Your...guesst."
The pause suggested Draca had several other possible designations for him.
Jaenelle Angelline, Queen of Ebon-Askavi. Witch
"So, I see," Jaenelle said. Her voice was a midnight whisper and her sapphire eyes hinted at maelstroms within their depths. He was not speaking to the Queen; no, he was speaking to Witch. "I recognize his get. He is one of Raven's. What do you want?"
Raven's Possibly Suicidal Messenger
Now was far too late to wonder if he'd offended his own lady somehow, to be given this task.
But he did have the perfect comeback. He thrust out his hand, and opened it. The Ebon-gray jewel gleamed on his palm, and he tried on a smirk. "What do you want?"
Witch
Oh you poor, stupid fool.
Witch didn't move. She didn't have to. In an instant, the messenger found himself surrounded by her Ebony power. His every nerve-ending was alight with agony, his brain felt like an egg cracked open onto a sizzling pan. The bones of his limbs were pulverized into pebble-sized pieces while more Craft insinuated itself around his nervous system, keeping him breathing, keeping his heart-beating, keeping him conscious and sane so he would be keenly aware of exactly what was happening to him.
"That. Does not. Belong. To you," she said in measured tones. "Speak quickly."
He was right in a way. She wasn't going to kill him yet.
Raven's Messenger
A whimper escaped him before he got himself under control. Agony. Yes. For his lady. Yes. She would know, she would repay him....
That lie helped him stay conscious enough to croak, "My lady has your friend. And her Consort." A breath, measured, then another.
"Give her what is hers. Blood of her blood. And she'll return... what's yours."
Witch
"Raven has nothing here," Witch said, almost conversationally. "Rook may be her offspring, but she has no claim on the child. Not by our laws, not by our customs, and even were neither of those true, I would not give that child up."
Her fingers clenched slightly, and the pain intensified. His ribs and sternum split, while she shielded his heart from the jagged splinters of bone.
"Have you anything else to say?"
Raven's Definitely Suicidal Messenger
He would be dead in a moment. But he'd have one tiny moment of satisfaction in the truth:
"They... suffer. As long as you delay." He opened his eyes. "She will never kill them."
There.
Witch
"I know," Witch said quietly. "Everything has a price."
She plucked the Jewel from his shattered hand, then lifted him gently into the air, as if she hadn't been the one to crush his bones into powder. Behind them, a candelabra sprung to life and as the candles lit in their own peculiar order, a Gate between the worlds was formed.
She left him just beyond where the Gate had opened, but not before giving a sharp whistle. Already, he could hear the snaps and snarls of some kind of approaching animal. A vine slithered across the mess that was once his left leg.
"In Hell, even the plants seek fresh blood," Witch informed him. "The Hellhounds will reach you first, though I doubt the Harpies are far behind. I expect your lady will be able to interpret your disappearance as the my answer."
And with that, she spun on her heel and walked back through the Gate, Karla's Jewel swinging in her fist.
The spells holding him to life and consciousness took hours to fade.
[NFI. NFB, all in prep for this weekend! Warning under the cut for ultraviolence against an NPC. Many thanks to showmetheproof for her NPCing skills and whateverknight's amazing preplay coder!!]
Karla and Rook had been rescued from the estate in Sidra almost four weeks ago. A few days later, Jaenelle had summoned the entirety of her First Circle to the Keep to prepare for war. Two weeks ago, Karla had disobeyed her Healer and her common sense and had left the sickroom, refusing to remain abed any longer. A few days ago, Karla had disobeyed her Queen and left the Keep.
In the intervening days, there'd been neither sign nor word from her.
Just like there'd been no word from Luthvian. Or from Marion and Daemonar.
Between the list of the missing and the dead, the Keep was like a powder keg just waiting for a spark.
Raven's Messenger
They were going to want to kill this messenger. But he was fairly confident they wouldn't dare.
His Lady had given him a mission. He had to complete it.
Draca, Seneschal of the Keep
"Yess?" Draca appeared at his elbow with no more warning that that. "You wissh to ssee the Lady?"
Without giving him time to answer, she turned and began walking down the endless maze of corridors. "Then follow me. Do not fall behind. The Keep iss not fond of misscreantss."
Raven's Messenger
He tried to strut to show he wasn't intimidated. And he wasn't, not by humans, but he couldn't tell what this person was.
"The Lady wants to see me," he told the lizard-woman's back. "So that's your problem if I get lost."
Draca
"Given who her father iss, I have no doubt sshe will hear the newss you bring no matter what," Draca said, voice cool. "In fact, sshe may prefer it that way."
Whether it was some trick of Craft, or simply that Jaenelle's rooms were very close to the receiving room Raven's messenger had waited was unimportant. But a few twists and turns later, and Draca was opening a large door and bowing. "Lady. Your...guesst."
The pause suggested Draca had several other possible designations for him.
Jaenelle Angelline, Queen of Ebon-Askavi. Witch
"So, I see," Jaenelle said. Her voice was a midnight whisper and her sapphire eyes hinted at maelstroms within their depths. He was not speaking to the Queen; no, he was speaking to Witch. "I recognize his get. He is one of Raven's. What do you want?"
Raven's Possibly Suicidal Messenger
Now was far too late to wonder if he'd offended his own lady somehow, to be given this task.
But he did have the perfect comeback. He thrust out his hand, and opened it. The Ebon-gray jewel gleamed on his palm, and he tried on a smirk. "What do you want?"
Witch
Oh you poor, stupid fool.
Witch didn't move. She didn't have to. In an instant, the messenger found himself surrounded by her Ebony power. His every nerve-ending was alight with agony, his brain felt like an egg cracked open onto a sizzling pan. The bones of his limbs were pulverized into pebble-sized pieces while more Craft insinuated itself around his nervous system, keeping him breathing, keeping his heart-beating, keeping him conscious and sane so he would be keenly aware of exactly what was happening to him.
"That. Does not. Belong. To you," she said in measured tones. "Speak quickly."
He was right in a way. She wasn't going to kill him yet.
Raven's Messenger
A whimper escaped him before he got himself under control. Agony. Yes. For his lady. Yes. She would know, she would repay him....
That lie helped him stay conscious enough to croak, "My lady has your friend. And her Consort." A breath, measured, then another.
"Give her what is hers. Blood of her blood. And she'll return... what's yours."
Witch
"Raven has nothing here," Witch said, almost conversationally. "Rook may be her offspring, but she has no claim on the child. Not by our laws, not by our customs, and even were neither of those true, I would not give that child up."
Her fingers clenched slightly, and the pain intensified. His ribs and sternum split, while she shielded his heart from the jagged splinters of bone.
"Have you anything else to say?"
Raven's Definitely Suicidal Messenger
He would be dead in a moment. But he'd have one tiny moment of satisfaction in the truth:
"They... suffer. As long as you delay." He opened his eyes. "She will never kill them."
There.
Witch
"I know," Witch said quietly. "Everything has a price."
She plucked the Jewel from his shattered hand, then lifted him gently into the air, as if she hadn't been the one to crush his bones into powder. Behind them, a candelabra sprung to life and as the candles lit in their own peculiar order, a Gate between the worlds was formed.
She left him just beyond where the Gate had opened, but not before giving a sharp whistle. Already, he could hear the snaps and snarls of some kind of approaching animal. A vine slithered across the mess that was once his left leg.
"In Hell, even the plants seek fresh blood," Witch informed him. "The Hellhounds will reach you first, though I doubt the Harpies are far behind. I expect your lady will be able to interpret your disappearance as the my answer."
And with that, she spun on her heel and walked back through the Gate, Karla's Jewel swinging in her fist.
The spells holding him to life and consciousness took hours to fade.
[NFI. NFB, all in prep for this weekend! Warning under the cut for ultraviolence against an NPC. Many thanks to showmetheproof for her NPCing skills and whateverknight's amazing preplay coder!!]