Intervention
It is very quiet, as the light of the afternoon begins to fade to dusk, casting soft shadows across the stone. The sun-warmed plaza almost glows to the eye in contast to the growing shadows and the rambling thorny vines that spread over the walls surrounding it.
Unseen, a bird chirps from the bushes nearby, audible about the soft rhythmic humming of crickets.
Almost nobody is out at this time, leaving the peace undisturbed. There is almost no breeze, adding to the warmth of the late afternoon as the sky darkens its bright blue to soft grey, fading into the deep pink and gold sunset.
It is quiet.
Invisible and silent, the Chosen Malacoda - Di'aliz - stands in the shade of a gently-scented tree. Complex reverse-woven threads bend light around her, the glow of saidar completely Suppressed. She may not like to wait, and rarely needs to, but not for nothing did she
( Fall )
rise to the height she has. She can be patient if it is necessary.
And so Di'aliz waits as the afternoon sun darkens and dies into dusk.
Silently, Astoreth walks. Silently. Creeping. It is what she does, she moves silently. Black dress billowing around her, light folded around her as she approaches the meeting place. Calah should be in place by now. Should be. Of course, he was. Everything would go according to plan. Suppressed, she carefully watches and waits. Dropping the Folded Light weaves, she pauses in the meeting spot. All it took was a moment's distraction and Malacoda would be finished.
Quietly, still invisible and Suppressed, Di'aliz tilts her head at the dark figure that appears with no ceremony a little way from her. Pale blue eyes consider angles and advantages. She is patient, still, watching the silent dreadlord. It is past the appointed time, well past, and growing later. Astoreth glances around suspiciously looking for any sign of movement or of Saidar.
Unseen by either, a figure in all black waits calmly. From underneath his hood, he can see Astoreth. Malacoda was nearby, certainly. The black flecks flying across his eyes did not obscure his vision of the area. This was going to have to be improvised, but that was well enough.
There is nothing for Astoreth - or the silent watcher - to see, not even as Di'aliz forms a blade of air directly behind the other woman, invisible and silent, the Suppressed weaves forming a blade sharper than any metal. A considering tilt of her head, and with careful concern the Chosen flicks it downward, slicing across Astoreth's back with equal precision and cruelty.
A quickly stifled scream from Astoreth as the blade cuts her. Falling to her knees, she glances wildly around, all too aware of the hot blood dripping down her back. Her hands burn and crackle as she seizes the source. Doing her best to wall off the pain, she scoures the area. She did not feel anything. Malacoda could reverse-weave. A soft giggle echoes around the plaza. A vicious snarl from Astoreth in response. She is not a plaything!
But then, anything could be a plaything if you found it amusing enough to take. Folds of light still wrapping around her, Di'aliz peers out, staring in evident fascination at the injured girl on her knees.
Blades of fire tore across plaza, striking at shadows, at nothing. She could not do nothing. The stone boiled beneath the blades as Astoreth struggled against the pain and her invisible opponent. The invisible Di'aliz weaves slender threads of air to catch around the other woman's wrists and waist, hauling her swiftly up into the air and dangling her above the stone.
Astoreth gasps, but she has an image to maintain. Even being hauled up in the air, she keeps her chin upraised by sheer force of will. As soon as Malacoda shows herself, and she certainly would... She liked to play, it was in the files. When she did, then Calah would kill her. She just has to last it out.
The cloaked figure simply watches with crossed arms. Calah would not be coming.
The shielding weaves and her Suppression fall away, and Di'aliz steps out into the plaza as Astoreth rises a judicious few feet higher, the thread holding her arms pulling enough to open the wound on her back further. Astoreth bares her teeth at the little blonde girl, her teeth clenched from pain as well as anger. Her back feels like it is on fire. Any movement at all is extremely painful. She just has to wait a little longer for Calah to get the right moment.
Di'aliz blinks up innocently, and the weaves holding the dark girl up in the air cease to exist.
Astoreth crumples to the ground in a pile of bloody black silk. Why isn't Calah moving? He should have gone by now. The Chosen is just toying with her. She would show that crazy little wretch!
Di'aliz, oblivious to these thoughts, bites her lip, lifting her skirts a little as she steps to one side, searching for a different angle to watch from. Another moment, and she begins to quickly form weaves of fire and water.
It is time. Flecks of black flew faster and faster across the watcher's eyes as he raises his hands. Flows of Spirit, Fire, and Earth shred Malacoda's weaves. A smile on his face. Everything was going according to his design.
Instantly the Chosen's eyes narrow at the recoil from the snapped weaves. Astoreth could not have done that. Not without her knowing. Di'aliz glances into the shadows around her, searching, waiting for the telltale glow of Saidar. Seizing the opportunity, Astoreth's hands spark and burn as she drinks from the source deeply. This had gone wrong, but she could remedy this now! The pain is almost blinding, and the sweat in Astoreth's eyes makes aiming difficult. Putting the cut on her back aside and the bones - some were broken, she thought for a moment - she had to win! Blades of fire spray from her hands as she snarls at Malacoda.
The young Dreadlord's aim is off, just a little, and Di'aliz moves surprisingly fast, small hands gathering and smothering the flames that start in her loose skirts even as her attention snaps back to Astoreth. She is burned, just a little skin, nothing serious. She reaches out again, no time to reverse them, thick and complex weaves of air and water, up and out, to the wind and mist.
Wiping the sweat and blood from her eyes, Astoreth glanced around at the mist. She could feel Malacoda now, and haphazardly threw blades of fire in that direction, the wind and mist soaking up some of the blow. The blood pounding in her ears as she tried again. This had to work.
Water beats down through the thickening mist, harder than seems possible, quenching fire and crushing down on the injured dreadlord. Di'aliz glances about through mist that swirls around rather than over her, nervous. No time to play, not now. Astoreth has to die, and now. Swiftly she begins weaves of fire to draw the heat from the torrents of water striking the other girl and turn them to thick blades of ice.
Feeling the chill in the air, the watcher knows what is going to happen and how he could stop it. Shaitan's power thunders through him, he could still see through the blizzard of black flecks. The flows form instantaneously, he could not see what he was striking at, but he had as much power as he needed. Surgery was not necessary. With a twitch of his hands, he slices through Malacoda's weaves. They snap, showering fiery and electric sparks where the shattered weaves collide, breaking more in turn. Di'aliz stumbles in shock, mist clearing as broken strands of Saidar destroy others in turn.
Pale - she had lost a lot of blood - she blinks for a moment. Freed from the deluge of water, but still struggling to keep a hold of the Source, Astoreth's eyes flick to the pool of water and her blood intermingled. She did not have much strength left. Malacoda is stunned, and with a snarl of fury, she throws fire blades at the Chosen.
Di'aliz screams, short and shocked as burning knives slam into her, nearly knocking her to the floor. Only supreme self control - she has it, when she needs it she can control - keeps her standing. She thusts away the agony, ignore it, like the cold, ignore it. She moves, away from her former position, stumbling closer to Astoreth, she needs to see, can't weave where she can't see...
Astoreth blinks - Malacoda is still standing. Her head swimming, a reaction something. It is all very foggy. The Source seems distant, she can't seem to think of how to form the weaves. The amount of blood around her was surprising, she thought all of a sudden. The red floating in the water pooled, and the black of the silk made even darker.
White-faced and fighting blackness, Di'aliz prepares her weaves. This will have to be fast - she cannot be stopped from this, too dangerous. Timing is important. One small hand reaches up her sleeve, drawing out the dagger stored there for emergencies such as this. Her arm wavers, but Astoreth, prone on the ground, is an easy target. She throws it hard, reaching for the source to reverse-weave what she has prepared.
The Travelling portal appears and she near falls through it, not waiting to see if her throw found its mark.
A small scream from Astoreth as the knife sinks into her arm before she completely passes out.
Standing nearby, the man in black smiles.
Unseen, a bird chirps from the bushes nearby, audible about the soft rhythmic humming of crickets.
Almost nobody is out at this time, leaving the peace undisturbed. There is almost no breeze, adding to the warmth of the late afternoon as the sky darkens its bright blue to soft grey, fading into the deep pink and gold sunset.
It is quiet.
Invisible and silent, the Chosen Malacoda - Di'aliz - stands in the shade of a gently-scented tree. Complex reverse-woven threads bend light around her, the glow of saidar completely Suppressed. She may not like to wait, and rarely needs to, but not for nothing did she
( Fall )
rise to the height she has. She can be patient if it is necessary.
And so Di'aliz waits as the afternoon sun darkens and dies into dusk.
Silently, Astoreth walks. Silently. Creeping. It is what she does, she moves silently. Black dress billowing around her, light folded around her as she approaches the meeting place. Calah should be in place by now. Should be. Of course, he was. Everything would go according to plan. Suppressed, she carefully watches and waits. Dropping the Folded Light weaves, she pauses in the meeting spot. All it took was a moment's distraction and Malacoda would be finished.
Quietly, still invisible and Suppressed, Di'aliz tilts her head at the dark figure that appears with no ceremony a little way from her. Pale blue eyes consider angles and advantages. She is patient, still, watching the silent dreadlord. It is past the appointed time, well past, and growing later. Astoreth glances around suspiciously looking for any sign of movement or of Saidar.
Unseen by either, a figure in all black waits calmly. From underneath his hood, he can see Astoreth. Malacoda was nearby, certainly. The black flecks flying across his eyes did not obscure his vision of the area. This was going to have to be improvised, but that was well enough.
There is nothing for Astoreth - or the silent watcher - to see, not even as Di'aliz forms a blade of air directly behind the other woman, invisible and silent, the Suppressed weaves forming a blade sharper than any metal. A considering tilt of her head, and with careful concern the Chosen flicks it downward, slicing across Astoreth's back with equal precision and cruelty.
A quickly stifled scream from Astoreth as the blade cuts her. Falling to her knees, she glances wildly around, all too aware of the hot blood dripping down her back. Her hands burn and crackle as she seizes the source. Doing her best to wall off the pain, she scoures the area. She did not feel anything. Malacoda could reverse-weave. A soft giggle echoes around the plaza. A vicious snarl from Astoreth in response. She is not a plaything!
But then, anything could be a plaything if you found it amusing enough to take. Folds of light still wrapping around her, Di'aliz peers out, staring in evident fascination at the injured girl on her knees.
Blades of fire tore across plaza, striking at shadows, at nothing. She could not do nothing. The stone boiled beneath the blades as Astoreth struggled against the pain and her invisible opponent. The invisible Di'aliz weaves slender threads of air to catch around the other woman's wrists and waist, hauling her swiftly up into the air and dangling her above the stone.
Astoreth gasps, but she has an image to maintain. Even being hauled up in the air, she keeps her chin upraised by sheer force of will. As soon as Malacoda shows herself, and she certainly would... She liked to play, it was in the files. When she did, then Calah would kill her. She just has to last it out.
The cloaked figure simply watches with crossed arms. Calah would not be coming.
The shielding weaves and her Suppression fall away, and Di'aliz steps out into the plaza as Astoreth rises a judicious few feet higher, the thread holding her arms pulling enough to open the wound on her back further. Astoreth bares her teeth at the little blonde girl, her teeth clenched from pain as well as anger. Her back feels like it is on fire. Any movement at all is extremely painful. She just has to wait a little longer for Calah to get the right moment.
Di'aliz blinks up innocently, and the weaves holding the dark girl up in the air cease to exist.
Astoreth crumples to the ground in a pile of bloody black silk. Why isn't Calah moving? He should have gone by now. The Chosen is just toying with her. She would show that crazy little wretch!
Di'aliz, oblivious to these thoughts, bites her lip, lifting her skirts a little as she steps to one side, searching for a different angle to watch from. Another moment, and she begins to quickly form weaves of fire and water.
It is time. Flecks of black flew faster and faster across the watcher's eyes as he raises his hands. Flows of Spirit, Fire, and Earth shred Malacoda's weaves. A smile on his face. Everything was going according to his design.
Instantly the Chosen's eyes narrow at the recoil from the snapped weaves. Astoreth could not have done that. Not without her knowing. Di'aliz glances into the shadows around her, searching, waiting for the telltale glow of Saidar. Seizing the opportunity, Astoreth's hands spark and burn as she drinks from the source deeply. This had gone wrong, but she could remedy this now! The pain is almost blinding, and the sweat in Astoreth's eyes makes aiming difficult. Putting the cut on her back aside and the bones - some were broken, she thought for a moment - she had to win! Blades of fire spray from her hands as she snarls at Malacoda.
The young Dreadlord's aim is off, just a little, and Di'aliz moves surprisingly fast, small hands gathering and smothering the flames that start in her loose skirts even as her attention snaps back to Astoreth. She is burned, just a little skin, nothing serious. She reaches out again, no time to reverse them, thick and complex weaves of air and water, up and out, to the wind and mist.
Wiping the sweat and blood from her eyes, Astoreth glanced around at the mist. She could feel Malacoda now, and haphazardly threw blades of fire in that direction, the wind and mist soaking up some of the blow. The blood pounding in her ears as she tried again. This had to work.
Water beats down through the thickening mist, harder than seems possible, quenching fire and crushing down on the injured dreadlord. Di'aliz glances about through mist that swirls around rather than over her, nervous. No time to play, not now. Astoreth has to die, and now. Swiftly she begins weaves of fire to draw the heat from the torrents of water striking the other girl and turn them to thick blades of ice.
Feeling the chill in the air, the watcher knows what is going to happen and how he could stop it. Shaitan's power thunders through him, he could still see through the blizzard of black flecks. The flows form instantaneously, he could not see what he was striking at, but he had as much power as he needed. Surgery was not necessary. With a twitch of his hands, he slices through Malacoda's weaves. They snap, showering fiery and electric sparks where the shattered weaves collide, breaking more in turn. Di'aliz stumbles in shock, mist clearing as broken strands of Saidar destroy others in turn.
Pale - she had lost a lot of blood - she blinks for a moment. Freed from the deluge of water, but still struggling to keep a hold of the Source, Astoreth's eyes flick to the pool of water and her blood intermingled. She did not have much strength left. Malacoda is stunned, and with a snarl of fury, she throws fire blades at the Chosen.
Di'aliz screams, short and shocked as burning knives slam into her, nearly knocking her to the floor. Only supreme self control - she has it, when she needs it she can control - keeps her standing. She thusts away the agony, ignore it, like the cold, ignore it. She moves, away from her former position, stumbling closer to Astoreth, she needs to see, can't weave where she can't see...
Astoreth blinks - Malacoda is still standing. Her head swimming, a reaction something. It is all very foggy. The Source seems distant, she can't seem to think of how to form the weaves. The amount of blood around her was surprising, she thought all of a sudden. The red floating in the water pooled, and the black of the silk made even darker.
White-faced and fighting blackness, Di'aliz prepares her weaves. This will have to be fast - she cannot be stopped from this, too dangerous. Timing is important. One small hand reaches up her sleeve, drawing out the dagger stored there for emergencies such as this. Her arm wavers, but Astoreth, prone on the ground, is an easy target. She throws it hard, reaching for the source to reverse-weave what she has prepared.
The Travelling portal appears and she near falls through it, not waiting to see if her throw found its mark.
A small scream from Astoreth as the knife sinks into her arm before she completely passes out.
Standing nearby, the man in black smiles.