Erme + Joshua || At least his eyes aren't bees
Who: Ermesinda and Joshua
When: July 8th (tomorrow)
Where: The Citadel, in some storeroom D:
Ratings & Warnings: PG
She looked up at the Citadel, squinting against the glare of the sun and the dark shadow the building cast across the square. It was the first time she'd gotten up the courage to come so close; Ermesinda had never even considered entering a church before. Now she was dressed all in gray in hopes it would help her blend in with the Civitates, her long black hair combed in a straight sheet down her back.
It was the meaning behind the thing, she told herself. Sebastian had been murdered. With his dying breath he'd cursed his murderer to sprout feathers. They had to have some power in them. If nothing else... a token, at least, to remember the crow by. Ermesinda drew a deep breath and started walking forward. If Cita was real, would she be struck down when she crossed the threshold? Swallowed up by the stone? She couldn't let her steps slow; if she showed fear the Civitates would see and know she didn't belong. She clutched the strap of her satchel tightly... and then she was inside, whole, after slipping between the massive double doors that served as the Citadel's main entrance. For a moment all she could do was stare up and around. The building was huge. Everything was vaulted, carved, solemn and beautiful. It felt wrong. Cita's followers weren't so loving as to deserve all of this. An Initiate bumped against her back, and the witch started and spun to stare at them before she realized she was standing in place, gaping. She flushed and quickly moved on. Where would they have put the feathers? The girl on the ledgers had said they'd made quills... Was there a supply room?
She crept among the hallways, straightening and meeting any inquisitive stares with cold, challenging ones. They left her alone. She hesitated at the end of the first hallway, one hand going to the doorjam of the door on the end. The room she peered into was small, filled with prayer books, quills, ink, wire brushes, buckets and brooms. Some of the quills were twice as large as the rest, and a glinting blue-black. Ermesinda smiled and stepped inside. She plucked one out of the jar it rested in, turning it over admiringly. Sebastian had made a Cancellari sprout these? Amazing.
With the Occia's illness, Joshua had spent a lot of time pacing and hovering around her rooms, only to wind up being chased off. Apparently he was being distracting and imposing or something, so he'd taken to pacing the halls of the Citadel, brows contorted with worry, watching the initiates as they went about their chores and studies. One particular girl caught his eye. He didn't recognize her, and he was pretty sure he knew all the initiates.
It was mostly curiosity that drove him to follow her, the Cancellarius approaching the storeroom she'd entered after brief consideration. He stood in the doorway, hand having pushed the door further open for him. Still not recognizing her, he cocked his head to the side and cleared his throat to get the girl's attention.
Ermesinda jumped and whirled around, lips stretching in a brief, quiet yelp when she backed into the corner of the table. The feather was still in her hand, and she drew it closer to her chest defensively at the sight of this new man. He was very tall. Ugly, too. But better dressed than the rest... The witch's eyes were wide, and she forced herself to lift her chin and not look as frightened as she felt. "The sister said I could have a quill," she said, accent thicker from her nervousness.
The girl's behaviour made him suspicious, brow arching as he studied her, though he did attempt a pleasant smile. "I'm sorry I startled you," he said, voice soft, doing his best to hide the concern he still felt for the Occia. Remembering that, though, he grew even more suspicious. Their Lady grows ill, then some girl is found skulking about the Citadel. No, no, don't go jumped to such conclusions; that was how the other Cancellari dealt with such things.
Joshua nodded, looking towards the quill in her hand. "Which sister?" he asked, still wary despite himself.
Ermesinda's mouth opened, then shut. "I, I don't know," she said after a moment. "She had brown hair." An Initiate on the ledgers had offered quills to any that wanted them, but the witch couldn't remember her name. She swallowed nervously, eyes drifting over the man. Was he a priest? Fear gripped at her, twisted her stomach, and she struggled to keep her composure. He was either a priest or - worse - a Cancellari. She didn't have a solid idea of what the Occia's bodyguards did, only that one had attacked Silas. Quickly, she glanced to the man's hands. Unburnt...
Joshua's other brow rose to join the first as he looked over the girl. She was incredibly nervous, which made him think she shouldn't be here... yet, all she wanted was a quill? Perhaps she was too poor to buy her own. "Normally the sister would fetch the quill for you and bring it to you." He found himself feeling a bit guilty, trapping this girl in the storeroom like some petty thief. Even if that's what she was. He stepped to the side, not quite out of the way but not fully blocking the door any longer. "What is your name?" he asked, expression softening.
"Isabel," she lied quickly. It was one of her mothers' names, her birth mother's. Eyes darting to the space the man had left, Ermesinda held the held the feather to her chest and moved towards it, movements quick and nervous.
"It is nice to meet you. Good bye," she said breathily.
"A moment, if you will." He made no move to stop her, though her sudden desire to flee only furthered his suspicions. "I would suggest taking a few deep breaths. Rushing to leave will only draw further suspicion, and I assure you I'm far more patient than some of the other Cancellari."
Her eyes narrowed. Was he threatening her? "I am not--" Her thoughts hesitated, backtracked. The other Cancellari? Ermesinda paled. He was one of them. Not the Cancellari, not the one that had hurt her hound, but another.
"I am not rushing," she hissed out between grit teeth, staring up at the tall man defiantly. "I have what I came for. Now I am leaving."
Joshua nodded, glancing to the quill. "Such a wonder, don't you think? So long and sleek, and such a magnificent hue." His gaze returned to her face, studying. "If it weren't so large, I'd swear it had come from a crow." He watched her intently for any sort of reaction, the man curious and suspicious but not wishing to voice his concerns aloud. Not just yet, anyway.
She smiled at that, despite her nervousness. "It must have," Ermesinda said, a hint of smugness in her voice. "No other bird has a color like this." She lifted the feather, slipping it between her fingers. Come from a crow! Yes, it had. Poor Sebastian... And this man, he was in league with his murderer. The witch's eyes drifted back up to the Cancellari's, narrowed. Could she curse a man inside a church?
His head tilted back as he admired the girl's petulance. He gave a glance out towards the hall. No one else was around, which wasn't a surprise, though someone would likely be coming for supplies of some sort sooner or later. "Did you know the crow?" he asked, his voice lowered to a near whisper as he returned his attention to her. While he had no intention of turning the girl over, anyone else who overheard might.
He knew. Ermesinda's eyes grew wide, and before she'd even thought it through her mouth was moving, hissing, "You will pay for him! An eye for an eye, priest!" Her pupils split, and she could feel her magics spreading out of her, fogging the Cancellari's eyes over. She backed away while she worked the curse, arms spread, palms out, in case her steps took her into a wall.
She could see it was working; a shaky, proud smile curled Ermesinda's lips. "Your god does not stop me? Ah! How sad for you!"
Joshua did not realize what she intended, not until his eyes fogged over. The instant he did, however, he moved to block her path, one hand shooting out to grab at her shoulder, the grip tight, perhaps tighter than he'd intended with his military training taking over.
He did not respond right away, though, waiting a moment to adjust to the sudden disorientation. At first he thought to make some barb about Cita's vengeance, but then he reconsidered, voice still hushed as he spoke. "I had no part in his death. Not all within the Cancellari are as hateful of Others as Brother Wellington." He paused a moment, considering. "You are lucky it was not him you came across, or you would have had a blade pierce your ribs the moment you started. I say this as a warning, not a threat. I will not speak of this, but if you find yourself desiring something from within the Citadel again, ask for Joshua."
He did not care if she listened, it was worth the attempt either way. It would be so easy to call out and have someone run to stop her, but that was not what he wished. In truth, losing his sight was a minor retaliation. He only hoped it would return. "Do not run as you leave or you will be stopped. Walk with conviction, with purpose." After that, he released her and stepped back, turning his head away from the witch.
She bit back the angry shriek that rose in her throat when he grabbed at her, yelping instead. "Don't touch me!" she hissed. There was panic in her voice, tight and high-pitched. Even blind, he could overpower her. She'd relied on the hope that she'd be gone before he took a hold of himself; most men would shout or clutch at their eyes instead of lunging for her to explain. And what an explanation! Her lip curled, and she spat in his face when he let her go.
"I do not want your help, priest! If Brother Wellington finds me I will turn his blade to ash." There was enough fear and anger in her voice to give the illusion of confidence; in truth, if she ran into the man with one burned hand, she would run as fast as she could. "And do not tell me how to walk, old man." Ermesinda smiled spitefully, backing up into the hall. "You, you watch out for walls. Yes? Good-bye!" With that she turned and left. It took all her courage not to run.
When: July 8th (tomorrow)
Where: The Citadel, in some storeroom D:
Ratings & Warnings: PG
She looked up at the Citadel, squinting against the glare of the sun and the dark shadow the building cast across the square. It was the first time she'd gotten up the courage to come so close; Ermesinda had never even considered entering a church before. Now she was dressed all in gray in hopes it would help her blend in with the Civitates, her long black hair combed in a straight sheet down her back.
It was the meaning behind the thing, she told herself. Sebastian had been murdered. With his dying breath he'd cursed his murderer to sprout feathers. They had to have some power in them. If nothing else... a token, at least, to remember the crow by. Ermesinda drew a deep breath and started walking forward. If Cita was real, would she be struck down when she crossed the threshold? Swallowed up by the stone? She couldn't let her steps slow; if she showed fear the Civitates would see and know she didn't belong. She clutched the strap of her satchel tightly... and then she was inside, whole, after slipping between the massive double doors that served as the Citadel's main entrance. For a moment all she could do was stare up and around. The building was huge. Everything was vaulted, carved, solemn and beautiful. It felt wrong. Cita's followers weren't so loving as to deserve all of this. An Initiate bumped against her back, and the witch started and spun to stare at them before she realized she was standing in place, gaping. She flushed and quickly moved on. Where would they have put the feathers? The girl on the ledgers had said they'd made quills... Was there a supply room?
She crept among the hallways, straightening and meeting any inquisitive stares with cold, challenging ones. They left her alone. She hesitated at the end of the first hallway, one hand going to the doorjam of the door on the end. The room she peered into was small, filled with prayer books, quills, ink, wire brushes, buckets and brooms. Some of the quills were twice as large as the rest, and a glinting blue-black. Ermesinda smiled and stepped inside. She plucked one out of the jar it rested in, turning it over admiringly. Sebastian had made a Cancellari sprout these? Amazing.
With the Occia's illness, Joshua had spent a lot of time pacing and hovering around her rooms, only to wind up being chased off. Apparently he was being distracting and imposing or something, so he'd taken to pacing the halls of the Citadel, brows contorted with worry, watching the initiates as they went about their chores and studies. One particular girl caught his eye. He didn't recognize her, and he was pretty sure he knew all the initiates.
It was mostly curiosity that drove him to follow her, the Cancellarius approaching the storeroom she'd entered after brief consideration. He stood in the doorway, hand having pushed the door further open for him. Still not recognizing her, he cocked his head to the side and cleared his throat to get the girl's attention.
Ermesinda jumped and whirled around, lips stretching in a brief, quiet yelp when she backed into the corner of the table. The feather was still in her hand, and she drew it closer to her chest defensively at the sight of this new man. He was very tall. Ugly, too. But better dressed than the rest... The witch's eyes were wide, and she forced herself to lift her chin and not look as frightened as she felt. "The sister said I could have a quill," she said, accent thicker from her nervousness.
The girl's behaviour made him suspicious, brow arching as he studied her, though he did attempt a pleasant smile. "I'm sorry I startled you," he said, voice soft, doing his best to hide the concern he still felt for the Occia. Remembering that, though, he grew even more suspicious. Their Lady grows ill, then some girl is found skulking about the Citadel. No, no, don't go jumped to such conclusions; that was how the other Cancellari dealt with such things.
Joshua nodded, looking towards the quill in her hand. "Which sister?" he asked, still wary despite himself.
Ermesinda's mouth opened, then shut. "I, I don't know," she said after a moment. "She had brown hair." An Initiate on the ledgers had offered quills to any that wanted them, but the witch couldn't remember her name. She swallowed nervously, eyes drifting over the man. Was he a priest? Fear gripped at her, twisted her stomach, and she struggled to keep her composure. He was either a priest or - worse - a Cancellari. She didn't have a solid idea of what the Occia's bodyguards did, only that one had attacked Silas. Quickly, she glanced to the man's hands. Unburnt...
Joshua's other brow rose to join the first as he looked over the girl. She was incredibly nervous, which made him think she shouldn't be here... yet, all she wanted was a quill? Perhaps she was too poor to buy her own. "Normally the sister would fetch the quill for you and bring it to you." He found himself feeling a bit guilty, trapping this girl in the storeroom like some petty thief. Even if that's what she was. He stepped to the side, not quite out of the way but not fully blocking the door any longer. "What is your name?" he asked, expression softening.
"Isabel," she lied quickly. It was one of her mothers' names, her birth mother's. Eyes darting to the space the man had left, Ermesinda held the held the feather to her chest and moved towards it, movements quick and nervous.
"It is nice to meet you. Good bye," she said breathily.
"A moment, if you will." He made no move to stop her, though her sudden desire to flee only furthered his suspicions. "I would suggest taking a few deep breaths. Rushing to leave will only draw further suspicion, and I assure you I'm far more patient than some of the other Cancellari."
Her eyes narrowed. Was he threatening her? "I am not--" Her thoughts hesitated, backtracked. The other Cancellari? Ermesinda paled. He was one of them. Not the Cancellari, not the one that had hurt her hound, but another.
"I am not rushing," she hissed out between grit teeth, staring up at the tall man defiantly. "I have what I came for. Now I am leaving."
Joshua nodded, glancing to the quill. "Such a wonder, don't you think? So long and sleek, and such a magnificent hue." His gaze returned to her face, studying. "If it weren't so large, I'd swear it had come from a crow." He watched her intently for any sort of reaction, the man curious and suspicious but not wishing to voice his concerns aloud. Not just yet, anyway.
She smiled at that, despite her nervousness. "It must have," Ermesinda said, a hint of smugness in her voice. "No other bird has a color like this." She lifted the feather, slipping it between her fingers. Come from a crow! Yes, it had. Poor Sebastian... And this man, he was in league with his murderer. The witch's eyes drifted back up to the Cancellari's, narrowed. Could she curse a man inside a church?
His head tilted back as he admired the girl's petulance. He gave a glance out towards the hall. No one else was around, which wasn't a surprise, though someone would likely be coming for supplies of some sort sooner or later. "Did you know the crow?" he asked, his voice lowered to a near whisper as he returned his attention to her. While he had no intention of turning the girl over, anyone else who overheard might.
He knew. Ermesinda's eyes grew wide, and before she'd even thought it through her mouth was moving, hissing, "You will pay for him! An eye for an eye, priest!" Her pupils split, and she could feel her magics spreading out of her, fogging the Cancellari's eyes over. She backed away while she worked the curse, arms spread, palms out, in case her steps took her into a wall.
She could see it was working; a shaky, proud smile curled Ermesinda's lips. "Your god does not stop me? Ah! How sad for you!"
Joshua did not realize what she intended, not until his eyes fogged over. The instant he did, however, he moved to block her path, one hand shooting out to grab at her shoulder, the grip tight, perhaps tighter than he'd intended with his military training taking over.
He did not respond right away, though, waiting a moment to adjust to the sudden disorientation. At first he thought to make some barb about Cita's vengeance, but then he reconsidered, voice still hushed as he spoke. "I had no part in his death. Not all within the Cancellari are as hateful of Others as Brother Wellington." He paused a moment, considering. "You are lucky it was not him you came across, or you would have had a blade pierce your ribs the moment you started. I say this as a warning, not a threat. I will not speak of this, but if you find yourself desiring something from within the Citadel again, ask for Joshua."
He did not care if she listened, it was worth the attempt either way. It would be so easy to call out and have someone run to stop her, but that was not what he wished. In truth, losing his sight was a minor retaliation. He only hoped it would return. "Do not run as you leave or you will be stopped. Walk with conviction, with purpose." After that, he released her and stepped back, turning his head away from the witch.
She bit back the angry shriek that rose in her throat when he grabbed at her, yelping instead. "Don't touch me!" she hissed. There was panic in her voice, tight and high-pitched. Even blind, he could overpower her. She'd relied on the hope that she'd be gone before he took a hold of himself; most men would shout or clutch at their eyes instead of lunging for her to explain. And what an explanation! Her lip curled, and she spat in his face when he let her go.
"I do not want your help, priest! If Brother Wellington finds me I will turn his blade to ash." There was enough fear and anger in her voice to give the illusion of confidence; in truth, if she ran into the man with one burned hand, she would run as fast as she could. "And do not tell me how to walk, old man." Ermesinda smiled spitefully, backing up into the hall. "You, you watch out for walls. Yes? Good-bye!" With that she turned and left. It took all her courage not to run.