Raptor

The long quiet stretched between them and the earth as they picked their way through ichor infested tunnels. Alexandria had little to say as they encroached upon the last leg of their journey, her weariness weighing on her like a thick blanket, causing her feet to become sluggish. Despite this – she held a fierce determination about her to continue their trek, there was little time… There was an eerie calm that had settled in the pit of Alexandria’s stomach, as though she had come to terms with whatever outcome her mind had given her. Her golden gaze flickered briefly to Natasha, and she had a moment of longing before that too, was swept away in preparation for what lay ahead of them. Her concentration needed to be on the here and now – not on what could be’s and might have beens. She had an idle thought of hunger, but it too passed quickly as their boots moved through the muck. It is lost in these thoughts that the trembling of the cave takes her by surprise, and she lowers her center of gravity so as not to be caught toppling over. It isn’t until they approach the strange shaped cocoon that Alexandria finds it prudent to use her voice. “No.” She offers to the mention of burning it. Instead she reaches out with a gloved hand and grasps the cocoon, tearing it from the wall. She then proceeds to attempt to tear the grotesque fluid from it. It takes some time before it is free, and a surprised noise erupts from her throat as it moves as though it has a mind all its own. Her gaze lifts, her posture perking considerably as the voice of Luna surrounded them, and she cooed softly at the warmth that radiated along her limb before a contented, determined sigh escapes her. “Yeah. It will definitely be of good use to have.” The witch offers, her gaze turning towards Natasha briefly, a hollow smile touching her visage. The echoing voice of the beast drew her from her reverie, and Alexandria’s sharp gaze peered up at the large creature that came before them. It taunted her with it’s words, but she was not to be swayed. Her attention focused on Luna, pupils dilating in concern at the nearly covered witch. “Like hell you will.” Alexandria rumbles, her grip on the sable blade tightening once again. Kamal hissed as he slithered around them. Alexandria grasped the sword before banging it across the thick armor of her midsection. “You’ll never take us alive!” She growls, examining the creature for the moment they might have before it attacks. She takes stock of it’s thick carapace, remembering the difficulty they had with even the baby. No, in order to kill it she would have to venture into the very mouth of the creature. A smile curled along her lips as she contemplates the best course of action. “What a coward you are.” She sneers mocking their opponent. “To throw our own at us and expect us to falter. Only now with little choice do you face me head on.” She twirls the blade in her grasp before shifting her footing forward as her chin lifts in defiance. “This is the end for you, creature.” She reaches for her bells, dropping Ranna, the smallest bell into her hand. She does not ring it yet, waiting for the most opportune moment to do so. Alexandria finds her feet moving towards the creature, unburdened by fatigue as she brandishes the obsidian blade at it.

This is the only one I know of - I'm sure there are others.

Shanna is quiet, an unusual thing for her, but the night has been long and her attentions heightened to a near breaking point for most of it. Between the celebrations, the reveal of Zenahriel’s persona, and now Rafael’s presence – Shanna could barely contain her enthusiasm, but now it waned in favor of a collected calm that she hoped was not disturbing. Instead, a warm smile slides along coral lips, as her attention focuses solely on Rafael and his presence, even going so far as to leave the tome upon the table before her as her hazel gaze shifts between honeyed pools and an almost emerald. “I’m glad, then, that you were able to speak to her. It’s important, I think, to not leave things unsaid, especially if they’re good things!” The last is a chirp, her voice hitching half an octave. His admittance in the next sentence, however, does cause a noise of protest to tear from her throat, her mouth opening only to close sharply when his hand rose to give himself time to continue without interruption. Instead, a flush flourishes across her visage, dusting her cheeks with a gentle touch of red. “How could I refuse such an invitation? I am glad I was home to receive it, and not out in the field. That would have been a travesty. I…will admit I took a couple of classes on appropriate behavior during events such as these, since I’ve never been.” A hand moves to twirl into an errant strand of hair, twisting it into a thick curl as though her nervous energy will dissipate with the simple action. “I admit I am …hesitant to visit you. You are so busy, and the affairs you see to are so important…” It is now that the flush begins to creep from her cheeks, giving way for her pale visage to reclaim itself. His gentle command leaves little room for argument, and Shanna finds herself rising before she can protest. She moves, albeit slowly for the first step, to offer her hand to him to take so that they might find the calling of the music together. The gentle echo of it in the deep is enough. These calm moments are fleeting for Shanna, and she relishes them with the entirety of the her being. No doubt she will never forget this moment – this quiet moment in the library with her Lord Emperor. “You received your scarf, yes? I have a hat in the making to match.” Shanna offers, finding long quiets unsettling. Her form now, is closer to Rafael than it has ever been, their hug in the above room withstanding, and Shanna finds herself dizzy with the sensation - though not through complaint, but elation.

Alexandria watches the memory of Luna with a strange stoicism that seems to have taken over her. A calm before the storm, she supposed. Still, there was no harm in accessing their next steps form a place of logic rather than a place of emotion. She doesn’t hesitate to do either, but she does consider for a moment the repercussions of both. Her form shifts, as she idly paws at a patch of armor near her midriff, wrinkling the purple décor that surrounds it for a brief moment before letting it fall back into place. She is quiet, uncharacteristaically so in the moments that span the disappearance of the memory. She wonders why Luna continued when it was so clear that victory would not be in her hand. She supposed she could ask the same question of herself and the she-orc that accompanied her. Natasha, while bound by the chains of slavery, would find herself difficult to turn away when the life of one of the witches were in danger – but Alexandria remembered that she came willingly. She sought out Alexandria and warned her of Luna’s disappearance when she could have merely sat back and allowed Lunas’ demise. Golden gaze searches Natasha’s figure for a moment, as if willing it to stand out against the encroaching dark. She takes stock of the orc, soothed by her presence and wonders why her affections have churned so deeply for the woman. Was it merely the thrill of battle that had endeared her to her? She contemplates this – though knowing it has no bearing on their current predicament – for longer than she should. She almost doesn’t hear Natasha’s question to Kamal, who reluctantly unwinds from her tresses to slither to the floor of the forest, even as he hisses in distaste. “I can.” He states after a moment of peering over the edge. “But the question should be, Will I?” He huffs. For all his bluster, Kamal slithers to dangle off the edge as he grasps ahold of one of the larger nearby trees with his tail. Alexandria motions for Natasha to precede her in mounting behind the fluffy ears that Kamal carries atop his head. She mounts behind her, a strong arm curling around her middle as Kamal slithers slowly towards the bottom, the torch flickering ominously at the bottom. He does not slope immediately downward, but instead keeps his head as level as possible as he lowers his body. It puts some strain on Alexandria, as he draws his power from her, and her reserves are slim – though not empty just yet. It is several, long, pregnant and agonizing moments before their armored feet scrape upon the thick, ichor covered bottom of the cavern. Easily, Alexandria slips to the side, dismounting with the grace of someone who has done it a thousand times, her arm reluctantly releasing Natasha’s sinewy form as she steps back, golden gaze having difficulty in the darkness as she contemplates their next move. First and foremost, she supposes, she must see. She gathers up the torch as Kamal shortens once more, slithering over to her as he flops across one of her boots dramatically. Scooping his much smaller form back into the depths of her armor, Alexandria draws the sable blade once more. It fits well within the palm of her gauntleted hand, and she balances the weight of it briefly, before giving it a twirl in her hand as though cementing the thought that it is solid and potentially the answer to all of their prayers. Waving the torch above her head, her gaze narrows as she finds the only opening, a thicker-darker cavern leading to the left. Motioning with her head, Alexandria moves to go first, though cautiously. She has no way to mark the way that they have gone, so she can only hope that they do not get lost in a maze of ichor. "I can sense it." Kamal whispers from the depths of her armor, closer to her shoulder. "Take a left up ahead." Alexandria nods, trusting her familiar to not lead them astray. She follows his instruction, turning on her heel as the cavern opens up once more, and she peers curiously upward. AS they draw closer, she swears she can feel Luna's energy, or what is left of it, at least.

“We could be your mother, if you'll just stay with ussssss...” The voice echoes around his turbulent form, even as he struggles with himself and his resolve. Izule is nothing more than a victim until he picks up the sword, daring the creature to work for her meal. And so, she did, not hesitating once the sword was clutched in eager, grubby little hands. She drove forward – all the power of the mountain behind her ethereal form. It came like a storm, violent and assured of its power as it bore down with wind at its back. It came from all directions, assaulting the boy with the chill of a thousand winters, threatening to freeze his very limbs in the position they held at that moment. Whether or not he could withstand it was entirely up to him and his determination, but the creature swooped in, screeching as her unhinged jaw spread – intent on swallowing him whole.

The hours had come and gone in what seemed seconds, and Shanna was enthralled by the book that had been granted her. She made no notes in the margins, and made no effort to recollect what she had read, for now. Her fingers twisted into hair, errant curls falling in their wake as pages turn. Shanna seems intent on absorbing the knowledge through sheer will-power alone, and it is not until she is disturbed does she allow her eyes a rest. The gentle touch, accompanied by the sweetest voice breaks her reverie, startling her enough that she jumps lightly in the chair, her hazel gaze wide as her mouth mimics an o shape. “My lord!” It is a quick murmuring, as she bows her head. As he circles, much like a predator, she cannot help but to watch his graceful figure as a smile slips across her visage once more, cheeks tinting. “I have! It’s most fascinating! Lord Zenahriel said I could borrow this one, it would seem a shame to take notes in the margins like others have, however. I will likely wait until I have parchment and pen to scribble my own ideas.” Surely there were some in the library, but Shanna was not sure if she was entitled their use, and did not wish to overstep the bounds of her invitation. Gently, the book upon her lap closes as it finds a home ‘pon the table before them, and her curious gaze finds Rafael once more. “Did that mess with the Lagrimosans get cleared up?” She questions, not wishing to be nosy, but her ire at the absolute disrespect shown flitters along her ever-changing features for a brief moment. “I thought that perhaps I was lacking in proper courtly matters, but it seems Lagrimosa sets the bar low.” An idle wave of her hand but a moment later brings that conversation to a close, not wishing to dwell on unpleasant matters. “Did you at least have a good time, tonight?” As though it was just as important to her that he find joy in the celebration as anyone.

“I know you are a warrior…I am sorry to ask this of you.” Alexandria offers quietly, knowing that turmoil must eat at the orc like a vicious parasite. She does not retract her demand, however, knowing that the priority must be Luna. Without Luna, no doubt the coven would crumble beneath the weight of the loss. So, she trudges forth, relishing in the silence that plagues them. She knows that it is unlikely to last, and more than likely a testament to the creature’s next cunning trick – but it is a welcome reprieve. Silence stretches between them and Alexandria allows it as the darkness encroaches on their position once more, and the thick ichor that is spun like silk surrounds them. It isn’t until Natasha points it out that she takes stock of the cocoon, a grimace crossing her visage. She hated spiders…especially after their run in with them in the Dragons’ caves. To her credit, she does not balk or show hesitancy as Natasha cuts the cocoon down – despite the grotesque scent that lingers in the air – she does little more than wrinkle her nose, thankful she is not downwind of the scent. As the creature erupts from the shell of the carcass, Alexandria moves in an attempt to cease its progress towards Natasha, only to be defeated as the she-orc ensures her own survival and the decimation of the creature before them. It writhes and spits only for a moment before falling quiet as it gurgles it’s last as Natasha puts her gauntleted blade through the thick shell that envelopes it. Alexandria frowns as it bubbles with the ichor that seems to be everywhere, but does not do more than nudge the strange creature with a golden boot. “Gross.” She states, “Let’s hope there aren’t many more of these.” Though she takes stock of Natasha’s warnings with a curt nod, and gropes around to see if she still had flint and steel in the pouch at her hip. Unfortunately, she finds it bereft of but a few pieces of jerky. Eagerly she scoops them out and munches upon a piece, the growing growl of her stomach needing to be silenced. With this taken care of, she moves forward in effort to find the last rune. Fortunately, it is not so far hidden in the forest that they cannot make it out, and Alexandria brushes fond fingertips over the rune before finding it sufficient to poke her finger with the edge of a dagger, dripping the blood upon the face of it.

It had been a long trek to the Shawnee glacier, no doubt bringing them several breaks and nightly rests until they arrived. What a pack they must appear, mounted atop the colorful rider dragons that they had tamed. Alexandria’s golden-clad foot steps onto the icy land of the glacier with a confident, but wary expression as she waits for her sister to dismount. The seven orcs they have brought with dismount as well, and Alexandria peers at them in thought – wrapped in their furs as they were. The Tyrtrol tribe was better suited for the heat of the mountain, the thick volcanic atmosphere of the lower depths of Mount Ariadne was more home than the chill. Still, here they were, and here they intended to stay until she found what she had come seeking. Her tall stature towered with the tallest orc they had brought, her crimson hair bound tightly into a braid. This was the first expedition without Natasha, and it made Alexandria uneasy but did not wane her confidence. The orcs were loyal – they had to be, given their position as slaves beneath the witches command. “We are looking for an ivory looking rock.” She speaks in their guttural language, before a smile plasters along her visage and she turns to Lyanna, arms outspread. “Welcome to Shawnee Glacier, sister.” This time, Alexandria has come prepared, and she pulls a thick fur hide from the back of Syvos and stretches it across her dragon – who croons delightedly at the warmth and settles into it. “Shall we see if we can’t find a cave?”

Alexandria’s arm raises to shield from the blinding light that comes from Una Tal’s own victorious form as she fights away the ichor and banshee that have tried to claim her soul. It isn’t until the witch settles on the forest floor that Alexandria releases the breath she had not realized she was holding. “You are full of surprises.” Alexandria turns, grin plastered wide across her visage as she takes in the sight of Natasha, relief that the orc is fine flooding her. She cannot help but to lean in to the touch provided, eager to share in post-victory revelry only to be further denied the pleasures of flesh. Jerking backwards, Alexandria twists as the floor beneath them begins to give. She has no time to acknowledge Natasha’s outburst, and instead is relieved that Natasha moves with the grace and speed she lacks. She finds her footing and her legs sluggish – still frozen, no doubt. The first step sends pins and needles along her shins, and the weight of her armor kept her feet from finding the haste required to keep momentum ahead of the swallowing earth. She slips, concern etching along her features before she grasps ahold of a sinking tree and uses her powerful arms to grasp ahold falling limb and pulls herself upward from the ichor. She struggles briefly, as the tree threatens to uproot further, but by some stroke of luck – or perhaps fate, she clears the edge of the detritus and rolls in a rather ungraceful manner, further from the edge before choosing to stand. Drawing in a deep breath, Alexandria grimaces as the light cascades through the now open hole in the forest and they bear witness to the sickness that has plagued it. “Good.” Alexandria states to Natasha. “It’s gonna be hurting a whole lot more when I get to it.” And that’s a promise she intends to keep. Sheathing the sable blade, Alexandria looks to Kamal who is still entwined in Natasha’s dreads, wrapped firmly around the beads. He doesn’t look eager to move, and Alexandria is not eager to see him removed, instead admiring the pale halo that decorates Natasha’s crown. Magic flares at her fingertips at the sound of intrusion, hand extending with powerful intent as the golden glow sharpens to a blade, though she hesitates when the charcoal and green skin presents itself as the very orc they had left behind. Instead of interjecting, she listens. The banter between them, as well as the warning that Bale gives them, and her visage contorts into discomfort for the briefest of moments before she sighs as he leaps from sight with Una Tal in tow. With the creature focused on them, no harm should come to the duo as they seek to escape back to the safety of Mount Ariadne. Her focus remains fixed on the point where they disappeared into the foliage for a long moment before Natasha’s question pierces her thoughts. She turns and contemplates the distance they have yet to go. Fatigue has left her limbs, though she retains a chill from her romp in the cool waters of the River. Sarra’s invigorating spell stuck with her, and she closes her golden hues and lets the air of the forest fill her lungs with the renewed hope that they will survive this and emerge victorious. She has to believe it at this point, for there is no other option. “Yes.” A simple response as her heart becomes ironclad and she moves forward once more. No matter what may come, Alexandria believes them ready as ever. They have no supplies, not that they began with any, and had made it thus far. Blade, brawn, wits, and bells would see them through to the end, of this she was sure. Beneath her feet the world crunched, her booted feet leaving indentations as she pursues their path forward. The world around them seems eerily silent considering the carnage and rage they had just witnessed, and Alexandria finds it suspicious – but also hopeful. It means that they might have done enough damage to the creature to have it meet an end swiftly, but it could also mean that it could be regrouping for an attack of greater magnitude. “We have finished all of the witches, I believe. Save for Luna.” It is a mumble, though she knows that Natasha is likely listening. “It should just be the creature, now.” Her nose wrinkles in distaste at the thought. “Whatever you do, stay away from the ichor. Bale said it threw up on him, avoid it at all costs.” She pauses to turn, facing Natasha for a brief moment as her golden gaze bores into her. “Even if it means leaving me, get Luna and run.” Though she expects a protest, Alexandria has given her orders and she moves to caress the mahogany handles of her bandoliered bells. “Especially if I have to use these,” She turns then, facing forward towards their would-be destiny, “better to be safe than sorry.” The large elf hikes a boot into the soft earth below them and pushes upward as she gives a little hop as though to stretch her vision beyond what her tall stature grants her. “Almost there.” It is a hushed whisper as Alexandria finds herself with hand on hilt of the sable blade once more – gaze narrowing. Her feet pick up their pace, eagerness pushing her.

“Your dark magic has no place here.” The words a bitter blow against bowed head, even as protest bubbled from her lips, she was silenced. “It is a twisted, deformed thing that disgusts us. How could you possibly believe we could ever harbor you after knowing your powers? Blood is sacred, and you spill it as though it is water.” Her teeth ground inside of her skull in effort not to retort, not to lash out in anger and pain as it blossomed within her chest. “We denounce you, Elanor, may your name be stricken from our records.” “Father –“ “You have no right to call me by that name, as I have no daughter here.” The man spoke, spitting venom with each syllable. Natasha’s pleas went unheard, so far lost within the depths of the maelstrom that surrounded her was she, and deep into the first gates of the river. She trudged against the slick waters with intention; her grasp on Una Tal’s pleading visage was met with stern resolve. “What’s your name, poppet?” There was hesitation, having been stripped of status and name, she knew not how to answer the woman’s question. It takes her a moment to fumble within her mind before drawing a name she had heard in passing. IT was a strong name, fitting of a warrior. “Alexandria.” And she was born anew. Even as the ichor threatened to overtake the desperate soul of Una Tal, Alexandria’s grasp only proved to strengthen, even as driven to her knees and pushed backwards, causing her to arch backwards and yet her hand holds fast. That thick and terrible ichor that has plagued them since entrance into the forest, how she despises it, how she wishes to make it pay for the pain it has inflicted on her sisters. “I won’t let go!” She cries, defiance etched in every syllable. It was this defiance that brought her strength to full fruition as both hands move to grasp ahold of the souls’ wrist, desperation in her own visage as she tries to wrench free Una Tal’s likeness from the growing threat. “I’m Alexandria.” It is a quiet introduction, her golden gaze taking in Andromeda’s gentle being. The unseeing witch had offered her a gentle smile, and immediate acceptance. It had brought tears to her eyes, large droplets that spilled quietly down her visage as she wept with something she could only describe as joy. Because she was welcome. She was worthy of affection. She remembered when Andromeda healed the scarred wounds upon her forearm, the gentle touch of her lips and tongue had seared into her flesh, leaving behind the sting of healing. She remembered meeting Morwenna, the shy slip of a thing that she was, and that despite their vast differences she was quick to acknowledge Alexandria as a sister. And sweet Clementine, with her hatred of snow and all things cold – her warmth had wrapped around her in the coven soul more than once, they had entwined and used their powers to bring down the great dragon. All of these witches were hers, as much as she was theirs. "You can do it…" …have faith in us all.” She allows the warmth of the Souls of her sister wash over her, basking in it against the chill of the ichor and the river, which was quickly sapping color from her already pale visage. That daunting gaze that arises is met with malice, those twisted and crimson orbs that threaten to overtake them, and she grits her teeth against the threat it spews from the volatile darkness that threatens to envelope them. She rises not to the declaration, instead focusing on the hands that now surround her. She stretches the Coven soul beyond herself to her sisters, further in attempt to brush against Luna, it spreads through all of them like a warm wave of assurance, and Alexandria steels herself against what is to come. "PULL!" And so she does. Alexandria pulls with all of her might and the might of her witch sisters. Combined, their efforts are triple-fold what Alexandria would be capable in her own right. The golden glow that emanates from her form suddenly expands, akin to an explosion as a wordless roar projects from ruby lips. “I WILL NOT LEAVE YOU HERE!” And Alexandria rises to her feet as she pulls, making headway against the ichor slicked stones beneath her feet. Finally, Una Tal’s fragmented soul pops free from the ichor, causing footing to stumble until it can be regained, and Alexandria drops to a knee, panting with exertion. Her hand, however, remains firmly planted around the ethereal wrist that is now free. The purifying essence of the coven soul forces the ichor back, and Alexandria is grateful not to fight on a two sided front for however long it will give her. “Sisters…” She looks to their apparitions, gaze wet with sorrow and joy. Sorrow that she could not save their physical forms, but at least in this manner there was still victory. They were free the torment of the banshees curse. “We must go.” She struggles back to her feet, armor wet and chilled as footsteps bring her back to the entrance of the gate – her hold fast on her sisters’. She can feel the ichor clawing at her boots, making her sluggish and cautious as she weaves her way towards the entrance. As she approaches, the frost leaves her body, thawing slowly as she comes closer to the land of the living. “Wait!” Kamal says to Natasha, though he doubts his small voice will be heard over the storm, he slithers up to her ear, tickling and winding himself through the dreads that accent her head, and coils himself tightly around a bead. “She’s returning!” He shouts, his frilled ears floating in the wind as he bobs his snow colored head, nearly blending in with the whipping icicles that surround them, but he is correct in that they lessen. A golden glow emanates from her midriff, where the purple of her armor is prevalent, before it suddenly bursts outward. The frost and icicles that have formed suddenly find their projected directions altered as they fly into the trees, and the storm that had been raging ceases as though it never existed. The ground beneath Alexandria’s standing figure is wet with evidence, and Kamal gives what can only be described as a smug expression as his witch stands in defiance – her hand holding onto Una Tal’s ethereal spirit still. “I will not be stopped.” She hisses into the darkness. “And you will not keep my sisters from me!”

Shanna follows dutifully back into the main hall of the library, the grandest she has ever seen. Even though it is the second time she lays eyes upon it, it still takes her breath away. How much knowledge was tucked into the crevices of each shelf? She pays no attention to the hidden compartment of the key, having no desire to break the trust so carefully sculpted. Her feet carry her after Zenahriel, in awe of his expanded wings and she smiles. To imagine that such beauty still existed in the world was humbling. It is then that she leans forward, rocking on the balls of her feet as she waits for him to finish his conversation with the guard, a short little excited gasp tearing from her throat. “Thank you!” She chirps rather loudly, refraining from the desire to wrap her arms around him in a hug – but just barely. She doesn’t have to temper her desire for long, for Zenahriel vanishes in a flash of light that causes spots to dance across her vision. Amused by the rather dramatic exit, Shanna stoops to pluck the crimson feather off the floor. She muses over it for a moment, attention turning to the guard. “I know we just exited, but I’d like to reenter the library to study.” The guard merely inclines his head, and Shanna sweeps back into the large room with intent. It does not take her more than a moment to find a table in which to set up shop – placing the crimson feather aside as she sits in a stool, stooping over the book that she has been granted the privilege of borrowing. Her fingers caress the pages, taking in the passages until they burn into her mind as though mantras. The notes are secondary – though Shanna finds most of them redundant, she still gobbles them up as though starving. It is in this timeless place that she loses track of the minutes and hours, the never waning light a boon in her explorations.