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Pasion Pasiva

Royalty Never Walks Alone

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The walk back to her private chambers had been quiet and sullen. She couldn’t get a read on Raphael, but then again she wasn't particularly interested. Fire was running through her veins -- fire, and magic, and the lightness and euphoria of the Fae. Part of her wanted to skip along, to hum some happy melody that had suddenly come to mind, or even just to stop and admire the rather beautiful pieces of art that were showcased along the seemingly endless path they walked. She wondered if she had picked that art or if she had delegated the responsibility to someone else. With a frown, she realized that she always wanted to be involved in nearly every aspect of running Orisia, down to the most silly details of the castle’s appearance. It was the first time that she considered the possibility that perhaps -- maybe, possibly -- she was too involved. But whoever that person was certainly didn’t feel like the person she currently is. A strange feeling to be sure, but one that kept her blissfully occupied so that she didn’t have to bother with making small talk, or rather large talk, with her silent and brooding cousin.

 

When they finally made it into those gray and white chambers and the door was closed behind them, and she stood watching him as he stood with his back to the massive portraits of Isabella and Luca -- her mother and father -- she truly struggled not to laugh. He looked severe and angry, and utterly ridiculous without his beard.

 

He was mad at her, or perhaps the situation, or perhaps something else entirely. She couldn’t guess it, and again she found herself losing interest. Both he and the Warlord had awoken something in her that night, a train of thought that was slowly but surely gaining speed. They both sought to push her into new levels of leadership, to make her truly embrace her position as a figure of authority, and to once and for all abandon the airs of weakness she had embraced for the sake of making her human subjects comfortable. Of course she understood these things -- she wasn’t stupid. But like always, these men of great vision and strength and power, failed to see what hypocrites they were. In one breath Raphael had come to defend her command and her authority, and in the very next he had reduced her to nothing more than the child who had grown up in the protective cover of his shadow.

 

Those blue eyes of his -- cobalt in color -- nearly spelled her doom as he examined her from head to toe. At some point during the walk she had lost her pretty high heels and they were now dangling from dainty fingers at her side. She dropped them and lifted her chin definitely. She expected something from him -- passion, lust, need -- something. That’s the language they spoke after all. It was never love, it was never understanding, it was never more than raw and naked hunger, and tonight was the first night in weeks that she had seen that fire again, shining behind those deep, blue eyes.

 

“Does it feel good?” she asked, drunk off Fae’s blood, courageous beyond reason -- she bit her plump bottom lip and swayed just a little, “does it? Does it feel good to tell me what to do in front of people?”

 

It wasn’t often that Gabriela surrendered to this part of her personality. It wasn’t often that her appetite for sex was more powerful than her appetite for control. Tonight was different. Tonight she felt a strange melding of lust and control that no longer meant losing one or gaining the other. She was all sensations -- between her thighs, in the swollen flesh of her breasts, in the perfectly round curve of her delightfully pregnant belly. She felt desirable, and she liked it. A single step was taken, she lingered light on the ball of her foot as she reached out and ran a hand from his smooth chin down his chest, down, all the way to the buckle of the belt he wore over his trousers. She hooked her fingers within the fine leather and tugged.

 

A warm hand caught her wrist.

 

“You’re drunk,” he said.

 

He didn’t pry her hand away, but instead reached out with his other hand and caught the swell of her stomach in a loving caress. He rubbed her belly, from bottom to top, and stopped just over her bellybutton, where his thumb stroked until her breathing had hitched.

 

“You made a fool of yourself tonight, Gabriela.”

 

That’s when he pried her hand off and walked away from her, leaving her standing there. With a frustrated sigh she settled back onto the heels of both her feet before she fell over.

 

“And you loved every minute of it,” she replied sensibly as he made his way to the doors. “You cherished my failure almost as much, if not more, than you cherish me -- because it feels good telling me what to do.”

 

He left without a word, and she smiled at the Darkness that settled in after his departure.

 

~*~

 

“There’s monsters walking these halls tonight,” she said to no one in particular. She had gotten out of that godawful dress, and was now strolling along a corridor, open to a massive courtyard on the left side, in a deliciously comfortable cotton nightgown. It was always quite a strange sight to see the Black Queen in white, but the color actually looked rather nice on her. Even stranger was to find her outside of the luxurious fabrics that so often complimented her skin and figure. Tonight she didn’t crave silk or lace, but rather the earthy roughness of fine cotton. Her gown was off the shoulders with billowing sleeves that would have looked like wings if she had outstretched her arms. The high empire waist of the gown was loose and comfortable and gave her big belly a nice amount of breathing room.

 

“Demons, devils, and fantoms…” she named aloud, as her fingers traced the walls to one side of her. “Ugly creatures, bent on destroying everything I’ve made. But they don’t know…”

 

“You create to destroy,” replied the shadows.

 

“It satisfies the hunger,” she explained with a nod of her head. Her hair, now loose from the bondage of a braid, fell all around her in luxurious waves that cascaded down her back, and well past her bottom. “It keeps the darkness at bay.”

 

“How long are you going to fight this for, Gabriela?”

 

He came from the shadows, a creature of black wisps -- like corrupt fire. In the guise of a man, but just in figure, the creature stepped forward and fell into step at her side. He was her height, and not much wider than her small shoulders. He could have well been her own shadow if he stood behind her, and if his voice had been female. Tenebre would take whatever form suited his purposes, Gabriela was never mistified or frightened by the appearances he chose for himself, except when he took possession of the dead -- that was utterly uncanny.

 

“End it,” urged the Darkness. “Satisfy your hunger.”

 

She stopped and looked pointed at the creature. He lacked human features, his face was a black oval that tilted in a mockery of human curiosity. She frowned at it with a pout.

 

“Nothing satisfies the hunger. It’s been so long, Father -- long enough for you to feel comfortable trying these old tired tricks again? I expect better. But I don’t want to fight,” she shook her head and continued walking. “No, I don’t want to fight.”

 

“You create to destroy, Gabriela -- and they are taking it away from you,” his tone changed. Gone was the whimsical voice of the wind, and in its place was the dark and awful mechanics of a creature that was never meant to have a voice. “You need this. And they are going to do it instead of you -- they’re going to burn this place to the ground, they’re going to bleed everyone dry, they’re going to destroy everything you’ve built up before you ever get a chance to knock it down yourself. Is that better? Is that honestly enough for you?”

 

She kept walking.

 

“They’re going to save this place -- all of them -- somehow, together. They’re going to save this place from you and from me.”

 

Darkness laughed.

Edited by Pasion Pasiva

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[Previously, right after the abrupt end of the Queen’s coronation —]

 

A little further from the halls of the palace, the farce of the white snow gave way to the true beauty of Orisia: the evergreen flora of the Summer Isles. Night-blooming flowers lined the narrow path where a secret trail glittered under the moonlight. The magic dimmed behind the steps of the one it was meant for: Rodan, the leader of the erudite arm of the Abbadon Triumvirate.

The silvery path ended at an ornate bench that was set beneath a beautiful tree. A sweet, romantic spot for couples to enjoy each other’s company, far enough in the large gardens to be blissfully unaware of the chaos happening in the palace. It was here that a faerie waited, hidden among the bushes. When she spied him in the throne room, Rodan was guiding a woman to the exit. Lunara hoped he would bring her along. Rodan had stayed out of the spotlight throughout the event, and if he was caught here, they could just be an innocent couple seeking an escape from the crowd, knowing nothing of what was happening.

Lunara held her arm close to her body, where there was a deep gash across her forearm. Agony had not realized what it truly meant when he wanted her to sacrifice her blood. The human form she had taken on was nothing more than an illusion, and it was not as if she could magically increase the volume of her blood. Already the significant loss was taking a toll on her. Her breath came quick, and her wings felt heavy. But she was determined to see the plan through. Agony was engaging their greatest threat, and the Queen was drunk on her blood. If they were to do this, now was their only chance.

 

@Tyler @Mickey Flash @The Alexandrian @Dolor Aeternum @Pasion Pasiva

Edited by jaistlyn

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@Mickey Flash @jaistlyn

As intended, Rodan Allagi followed the path of the sparkling magic, gently leading with him the red-headed woman he'd made acquaintance of within the throne room. As they drew away from the throngs of fleeing guests, the sound of their gossiping, crying, moaning and curses began to fade into the night, allowing the far more sinister sounds of a distant skirmish to be heard in the distance. Though he knew what it must be, Rodan did not comment upon it. Instead, he smiled upon seeing that the path led right to a bench in the gardens, fitting perfectly with what he had suggested he and his companion find when they went to leave the castle.

"This seems a perfect spot." he suggested, nodding toward the bench.

He lowered his arm now, no longer needing to lead or direct Immie in any way. He simply continued until he reached the bench, then sat down and waited for the woman to join him. Deciding to allow the faerie who had led them there to reveal herself when she deemed it necessary, he did call out to her nor acknowledge her invisible presence. For now, he would continue as previously planned, not knowing yet the full extent of the Triumvirate's purpose her in Orisia. No doubt it would soon be revealed to him, however...

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Immie watched where she was walking, making sure not to step on any loose stones.  She was still holding her red shoes, though now there seemed to be no need to.  When Rodan waved her over to a bench close by, she gratefully sank onto the bench.  She daintily dusted off her feet before slipping the heels back on.  As she placed the shoes upon her feet, she kept glancing up at Rodan.  He seemed to be distracted, more so than the events of the ball warranted.  She wondered what could be on his mind.  The demons did give her a scare, but when they hadn't attacked she'd began to feel that false sense of security she'd felt before the ball began.  Balls weren't supposed to be the place for such violent things. 

Her shoes slipped on, and settled nicely on the bench, Immie leaned back and gazed at the man.  Her curiosity was piqued, and she was a slave to her own desire for knowledge.  "Mr. Allagi, you seem preoccupied.  I know the ball was unsettling.  Is that why you are looking around so?"  She began to feel uneasy and looked around at the surrounding area herself, as if to see someone jump from the bushes. 

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Rodan eased back in his seat a bit, trying to relax a bit and not accidentally betray Lunara's presence. Fortunately, the situation left him with a flawless excuse.

"The sudden appearances and disappearances of such creatures does leave one questioning their safety more than one might otherwise." Rodan replied, "But it appears the danger is past."

He allowed there to be a moment or two of quiet, so that it would not appear that he was attempting to quickly change the subject. Once he felt comfortable with that, he then decided to continue with his previous plans.

"It is unfortunate the event had to end as it did, but I hope it has not ended your interest in what I hoped to show." he finally spoke.

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Rodan came up the path, and Lunara breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that she thought him unobservant, but she had not yet worked much with the other arms of the Triumvirate, so it was hard for her to guess at Rodan’s motivations. Instead of revealing herself immediately, Lunara waited for the woman to speak to Rodan. She needed to ascertain her status first. Was this someone Rodan had recruited? By their exchange, the answer was an obvious no. Lunara took a steadying breath. Ok, ok. So she had to present their problem in such a way that would get this lady on board. ..It was time to play on the stereotype of faeries. 

Lunara shot out from the bushes towards Rodan. It was at this opportune moment that a scream roared out from the courtyard. Lunara felt a twinge of worry, but it didn’t stop her from using the chance to add her own voice to the roar.

“Please, please.. help!” Lunara cried as she darted in front of Rodan and Immie. “T-they’re trying to kill the Queen! They almost got me..” she shivered, while making sure that Immie saw her bleeding arm. Playing the victim was her card here.

“They have the Queen drugged, and she’s not listening to anyone! Something’s wrong with the guards.. they’re out of control!” Lunara jolted, as if she just figured something out. “They must be working with them! Please, you have to help me get the Queen away from here.. And the baby! If they get her… oh, the poor, poor thing…” Lunara collapsed on the bench in between the two and sobbed.

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Immie turned back to Rodan with a renewed interest.  He wanted to show her his gifts, and she hadn't forgotten his curious ability.  She smiled at him, and gave a slight nod to show she still wanted to see.  Before he could show her anything, she heard an immense scream.  The sound made goosebumps on her arms, and she jumped in alarm.  Her eyes were wide with fear, and the thought of those huge demons grabbing someone... torturing them... having them looked like that tortured body that was dragged into the ballroom earlier.... she began to tremble slightly.

On 1/22/2018 at 9:30 PM, jaistlyn said:

“Please, please.. help!” Lunara cried as she darted in front of Rodan and Immie. “T-they’re trying to kill the Queen! They almost got me..” she shivered, while making sure that Immie saw her bleeding arm. Playing the victim was her card here.

“They have the Queen drugged, and she’s not listening to anyone! Something’s wrong with the guards.. they’re out of control!” Lunara jolted, as if she just figured something out. “They must be working with them! Please, you have to help me get the Queen away from here.. And the baby! If they get her… oh, the poor, poor thing…” Lunara collapsed on the bench in between the two and sobbed.

The red blood, the loud scream, and the crying fairy all came together to make Immie's internal alarms go off.  She jumped slightly when the other little feminine creature woman sat beside her, and her words were shocking.  Immie's natural instincts to nuture and protect didn't fail her now, as she put her hand around the tiny sobbing woman, as if to shield her from what may come.  "I'm sure we can help somehow.  Right, Mr. Allagi?"  She turned concerned eyes to him, and in their depths they were asking him to save the day. 

Edited by Mickey Flash

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Though momentarily disappointed that Lunara had revealed herself before could show-off, the wheels in Rodan's sinister mind were quickly put in motion thanks to the combination of the horrible scream, the revelation that the queen was in danger, and Immie's suggestion that something must be done. While he couldn't be certain if the faerie was telling the actual truth, or if this was a cover for some other plan, it was clear that Lunara needed the Mutater's services. And if the goal was to get the "endangered" queen out of the castle, there was a wonderful host of ways a man like Rodan could make it happen.

"We would be remiss our moral obligations if we did not." he first slyly responded to Immie, "We must first find the queen, however."

He looked down at Lunara and placed an open palm on the bench in front of her.

"Touch my hand for a just a moment, so I may heal your injury. We must all be at our best if we are to overcome the forces arrayed against us." he said to her, deciding that whether Lunara wished to be healed or not, it would be in-character for his "kindly" persona to offer such a thing since he had the ability.

As he waited for her to respond, his eyes darted about the gardens. There were plenty of plants about, which he could use to fashion a makeshift whip in the absence of his normal one. If needed, he could also produce weapons for his comrades as well. While there were sadly few organic substances that were strong enough to withstand steel, a weapon of wood, bone or scale was better than no weapon at all.

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Lunara snapped her head up in delight at Rodan’s words. He had caught on to the act, pretending they didn’t know each other. Oh, this was actually fun. She wasn’t dismissing the danger of their attempt, but there was a thrill in seeing how Immie had fallen for the ploy. This ignited a desire in Lunara to see how far they could bring this. Meeting Rodan’s eyes, Lunara winked.

“You’ll help?! Oh thank you, thank you!” Lunara placed her tiny hand in Rodan’s. Considering the impressive suit that the Mutator had fashioned for Agony, she had no doubt that healing her would be an easy feat for him. While Rodan worked his magic, the faerie turned to Immie in concern. “I have to warn you, though, it’ll be dangerous.. The guards could accuse us of kidnapping the Queen.. I need your help, Orisia needs your help, but I don’t want you to get hurt..” 

She batted her lashes and looked down in thought. There was a plan hatching in her mind, but how to hint it to Rodan? Maybe they had to take it step by step. She looked up again at the two. “You have to think of a way to disguise the Queen! That way, we can take her out without the guards knowing.” She turned her head upwards and looked at the stars. “If only we could give her wings and take her through the skies..”

The faerie plucked at her dress in nervousness. “But the Queen is not herself, someone has drugged her.” She pointed at her own wings. “I’m fast; I can find her and convince her to come here, but she might not seem quite normal.. We have to get her away quickly!”

With a flutter, Lunara lifted into the air. She hoped that was enough for Rodan to catch on to the full plan and start gathering materials as needed. If there were no questions from Rodan and Immie, the faerie would depart. She now had the monumental task of locating Gabriela without getting spotted, and hope that the Black Queen was intoxicated enough to fall to her charms. She had a prickling anxiety about going back into the castle - those red-skinned demons and their thrum of power never left her mind. But after the commotion caused by those tall and imposing men during the coronation, she believed no one would be looking out for a small thing like her.. as long as she was careful.

Edited by jaistlyn

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In the Garden of Eden, the snake paced intermittently. Many sons of Adam tread these flagstones strangled by moss, and many daughters of Eve strolled beside them, piqued and engaged. The snake paid heed to neither and none. It was of a singular devotion, and it was Lilith it thought of, not they. Though it oft tempted others into ruination with a forked tongue and gilded wit, these machinations were but means to an end, and that was the eminence of the first love, the equal woman. The snake thought of her fondly and often while it waited and bided time, slithering through Eden’s savage gardens, thick with overgrowth, untended and forgotten. It moved through grass as much as across choked pathways, discrete and unknown. It paced and it reflected, remembering times long since passed when these walkways were clear and the hedges neatly trimmed, when the flowerbeds were tended and the violets bloomed.

It remembered the days when the air was fragrant with the scent of orange blossoms and jasmine, as it too remembered how Lilith bent her ear to its wisdom and grew arduous with the wise. Royalty never walks alone, the snake had said, when the moon above graced them together for the first time with her bountiful light. I’ve come a long way for the pleasure of your company. The snake had kissed Lilith’s palms then, it remembered. The very first promises of its servitude. And it served her, yes. With counsel, with hopes, with aspirations and kindnesses. It served even with love, when the time came for it. Well met under moonlight, the snake and Lilith had roamed the Gardens of Eden together into a tumultuous future so full of strife that even the heavens themselves gave pause, or so they thought in their most intimate of moments.

The snake paused, hearing voices. Too close for comfort, too foreign for familiarity. It did not know these voices, and so the snake did not care to be near them. Turning on its heel, the snake threatened to meander off the path and search for a quieter alcove to sequester himself, but he heard Lilith’s sobriquet and stopped to listen. And as it listened, it heard a scream from beyond. The snake closed its eyes and frowned, though it could not turn its head away. It was solitude it wanted, quiet it desired if not the lilting tones of Lilith, but its attentions were grabbed and its faculties were engaged. Though it resisted, its preternatural senses were too acute to ignore the knowing of Lilith’s companion engaged in combat. The Great Devourer was meting violence out this evening. Lilith was in danger. The snake was, in its sinful indolence, rendered less than a bystander, and as it lingered there, listening and warring with itself, it heard the pleas of a girl, the mention of a child, and the broken hearted sobs that were soon to follow.

The snake rubbed its eyes and smoothed its hand down the mournful lines of its face, rubbing vitality and strength back into the wan expression. Gathering his wits and mettle, blowing on the low burning embers of self-righteousness and indignation, Roen warmed his tepid blood with the fires of resolution if not outright fury, and strolled down the path that led him to Rodan and Immie. He had just missed Lunara’s flight, and looked for her briefly before realizing she had already gone. Drawing closer, the hard soles of his boots muffled against the moss mottled stones, the Outsider settled a hand on his hip and let the other hang loosely at his side. Hair long and loose, cheeks, chin and throat colored by dark stubble, dressed in somber grays, deep browns and muted blacks, he looked profoundly normal and profoundly regal, but the scent of peat and spice, of citrus and quenching iron, betrayed him ere long. They, and the long, spaded-tipped tail that swayed behind him, low along the ground. The snake of Orisia’s garden indeed, he looked between Rodan and his companion, sharing his attention between the two. Above the sounds of the night and beautiful hisses of cicadas, his voice was a low tenor, vibrant and rich, much like a practiced orator’s. His accent, and indeed he possessed one, was crisp, placing emphasis on definitive diction. He plied it to these two now, concise and to the point.

“Come with me.” He said, gesturing with his free, hanging hand, and turning, walking down the path through the gardens. He had intended to find his Lilith, his Gabriela when the coronation was finished, and just so, he would do that. That she was in danger, that Eden was compromised again, did not come as a great shock to him, but angered him all the same. Between his treatment in Kaida and the blatant disrespect displayed in the throneroom, from Malice’s cruelty towards Asher’s audacity, the Outsider’s perspective and alignment were shifting, his capacity and indulgence for social gaffes and faux pas’s diminishing with each and every encounter. His Lilith had been changed, the Garden of Eden had turned savage, and Orisia was bleeding, untended. Slowly but inexorably, the urge to shape the world was returning to him. And to shape things, he needed instruments, be they delicate, sharp or blunt in application. 

Perhaps Rodan and Immie would be such instruments, now. 
 

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Lunara's suggestion of wishing they could give the queen wings so she could fly away, was a non-so-subtle hint to Rodan about what the faerie was thinking. And the Mutator picked up on it immediately, his thoughts already flowing through the numerous flying creatures that had been "memorized" in his vast, mental library of biological knowledge. The situation would be somewhat complex, as the vast majority of flying creatures were birds, the largest of which were still nowhere near as big as a grown humanoid woman. In addition, birds gave birth via eggs, meaning to create a pure bird, Rodan would have to go through some complex manipulations with the unborn child. A more viable idea would be a hybridized bird that still possessed the internal capacity to carry a live infant. Perhaps even a bat, which was a mammal naturally, could be a viable choice.

But the question came down, in part, to weight. In order to not have fifty or more pounds of excess flesh matter to dispose of, Rodan would need a larger flying creature close in weight to the pregnant woman. Alas, there simply was nothing the Mutator had yet encountered that reached such a weight and still flew. Perhaps it would be necessary to make the creature he selected into an oversized version, unless Immie and Lunara could buy him enough time to dispose of the whatever material was left over after a more direct transformation.

As he considered these questions, Rodan looked up into the sky as Lunara had done when she made the suggestion. The faerie was gone now, having zipped off into the night to find the queen. But she was hardly the only thing to see in the starry sky, for one of Malice's many flying fortresses had moved into position above a location elsewhere in the castle grounds, within Rodan's line-of-sight. It was just by happenstance that a small flock of swans fly between where the fortress hovered and where Rodan sat, providing him with just the inspiration he needed. Swans were large and majestic indeed, and the fact that they were already in the skies on this night would provide excellent cover. Whether he simply made a very large one, or the others helped cover for him while he dealt with the leftovers, was a decision that could be determined once the queen was present.

His mind made up, the Mutator turned toward Immie, who he was momentarily alone with following Lunara's departure.

"It seems you will see my abilities tonight after all, albeit in more practical use." he noted.

But Roen's unexpected arrival prevented any further remark from the Triumvir. The Devil of Patia, who had last been seen storming from the party, now made himself clearly known to the two who sat on the deserted bench. The command offered by the Crimson King was simple enough, and there was a certain look in his eye that indicated he was not to be denied at this time. He had arrived at a time where it was possible he had overheard the previous conversation, though he made no confirmation of it.

One way or another, Rodan did not so much fear the Devil's wrath so much as he felt it necessary to keep peace with the man who hosted the Triumvirate within his city, even if Roen likely did not yet know of the Mutator's identity or affiliation. But his presence complicated things nonetheless, for it did not take much to know that the Crimson King had a great emotional connection with the Black Queen. If he was not amiable to the removal of Gabriela from the castle, he could become an obstacle that would have to be overcome. And so while Rodan rose to his feet, and offered Immie a hand up if she was so inclined, he also eyed the numerous plants that surrounded them in the garden, his intention to forge himself a weapon already finalized in his mind.

"As you say." was the Mutator's verbal acknowledgement of Roen's directive, betraying neither defiance nor submission, only agreement.

With Immie hopefully at his side, Rodan followed Roen as he made his way through the gardens. Along the way he reached a hand out to the nearby flowers, vines and small trees, plucking them quickly from their places and seemingly "melting" the matter into what looked to be a putty. This he began to fashion into a whip, which he continually added to as he looted from the overgrowth along their way. All the while he kept pace with the determined Devil before him.

Edited by Tyler

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Immie began to wonder to herself how she had become involved in this situation.  She'd just wanted to come to a party.  Her life was relatively boring.  She escaped into books to find excitement, and to learn to keep from being bored silly.  Now here she was, in the middle of some kind of royal intrigue, asked to actually help.  She didn't know what she could really contribute to the situation, but she didn't want to pass up on the opportunity to be a part of it.

When the fairy left and she was left with Rodan, she tried to read his expression.  She actually couldn't get a read on it, which made her think that maybe he was hiding something.  His admission to actually get to show his abilities made her think it was that he might be disappointed that he couldn't show off, and he was ashamed to admit it.  She would be, when the focus should be on rescuing the queen of the kingdom.  She still didn't know what it was about the man, but she had trouble trusting him. 

While she was trying to put her finger on exactly why she didn't trust Rodan, another figure walked down the path toward them.  Immie knew they were out in the open, so it wasn't so strange that another might be around.  Many had run from the castle.  This male wasn't running though.  He was strolling along like he didn't have a care in the world.  She saw the tale swishing back and forth behind him, and she realized who it was.  It was one of the males who'd been fighting in the castle.  He'd seemed so angry then.  So violent.  He was good at hiding it now.  He swiped his hand over his face as if he were burdened, and tired from it.  He stood in front of them, saying nothing at first.  Immie had the uncomfortable impression that he might be posing for them.  Letting them soak in the possibility that he was someone to be feared.  Rodan stiffened beside her, and she realized that he was at least slightly alarmed.  She didn't know this male, so she didn't have the same fear.  She did know that he was a good fighter.  He was well known here, and feared.  This helped her to decide to follow Rodan's lead.  There was no reason she should disrespect someone she didn't know.  The unknown could be dangerous, and it was stupid to underestimate someone.  And one thing Immie could pride herself on was not being stupid. 

18 hours ago, Roen said:

“Come with me.” He said, gesturing with his free, hanging hand, and turning, walking down the path through the gardens.

Immie looked to Rodan, to see what he would do.  Would he follow this male, with no explanation?  Shouldn't they at least ask why?  For all Immie knew this male could be a part of the plot to hurt the queen.  He seemed quite fine with ruining her party. 

7 hours ago, Tyler said:

"As you say." was the Mutator's verbal acknowledgement of Roen's directive, betraying neither defiance nor submission, only agreement.

Immie had to ask herself, what the hell was going on?  She felt she was thrown into the middle of a dramatic play, and she didn't know who all the players were, or what her role was.  Soon she might be required to participate in the play, and she had no idea what her lines were either.  She decided to watch and learn.  It was the best she could do in this situation.  And she functioned best when she learned as much as she could about a situation.  She followed behind the male with the swishing tail and Rodan, keeping a slower pace.  She could see Rodan touching things and gathering them.  She wondered why, but decided not to say anything as of yet.  She was just to watch and learn for the moment. 

Edited by Mickey Flash

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Arashi was a strange one at least. She knew what plants and food was what from seeing them on her travels but hadn't tried alot of them. That was the way of being a poor as heck thief who lived in the shadows, stealing only when nesscary to survive. Arashi never targeted the vulnerable and never went so far to kill or hurt unless she needed to. After all, Arashi only basic fighting skills and only learned slightly when cornered against common villagers.

"So...that's what it is. I had heard people talking about it...Mr. Xartia made a menition of how nice it was. Thought I might try it for myself." Arashi said as she smiled at Renji. After finishing the hot cocoa, she left it on the table nearby, waiting for someone to pick it up and take it away. After all, she had time to spend with her brother and now was this time. No violence...it was peaceful at last. This was one of the happiest moments she had in a while, a feeling away from her old life of crime, at least for now.

She looked down at what her brother was explaining to do, building snowmen it seems. It seemed to be interesting but Arashi had other ideas. Gathering snow up in her now free hand, she shaped it into a snowball and throws it directly at Renji. She starts laughing afterwards. "You know this...is more fun. Brings out more action! No violence, just fun!" 

As Arashi was hoping to have a peaceful day, that all changed when she noticed something going on beside the throne with the corner of her eye. A scene of possible violence then the Warlord took someone through the window with him. "The hell? Why does everything go to hell when I'm around? Am I a bad luck charm?" The draconian hybrid grunted as she watched the scene unfold and people starting to leave. "Well...this got ugly."

Arashi gave the snow covered blue furred beefly to her brother, glaring at what was going on. "Stay with him. I don't like what's happening or what's going on at least." It then dawned on the young draconian, there would be no peace in the world at least in her time.

Only hatred and violence it seemed.

As Arashi watched the queen leave and heard a shout saying the Queen was drugged, Arashi immediately knew something was wrong. She knew something was up, but who was she to find out who? Arashi wasn't some sort of detective that could automatically find out what's going on.

Arashi looked over at Rodan, watching him from afar, tailing him slowly from behind. He was one of the only people left in the room, as Arashi had not noticed anybody else leaving.

@Tyler  @Afro Punk
 

Spoiler

OOC: This is late. I might of gotten a few things wrong. Please point it out if I have.

 

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Thoughts can be the strangest of things. It is in your most vulnerable moments that it wanders off, recalling who you were, exploring who you are, imagining who you will be. After all, everything boiled down to that, didn’t it? You saw the world through your lenses, and every little thing you did defined you. You didn’t give the starving man food because of how he feels - you couldn’t know - but because you needed to feel good about yourself. You didn’t kill the bandit because he was inherently bad - you couldn’t know - but because you were looking for an excuse to satisfy your lust for violence..

Vulnerable.. Did I really think that? Lunara smirked to herself as her wandering thoughts came back to her task at hand. What need was she serving right now? She could easily just leave, fly to safety, and be done with this. After all, she wasn’t bound to the Abbadon Triumvirate in any real way. 

Who would she be, whichever path she chose to take?

The castle was ornately decorated, with sculptured pillars, textured walls, and large, framed paintings. It provided ample hiding places. Lunara hovered close to the ceilings, pausing at dark corners or behind paintings when someone passed by. Earlier, the fae had overheard the elder vampyre telling Gabriela that they were leaving. To where? Lunara had boasted of being fast, but even for her, to scour the hundreds of rooms of the castle could take time that they didn’t have. However, there were people who would be speculating where the queen was. People who knew her habits intimately, and who would whisper amongst each other, thinking themselves free of the burden of consequences. 

Lunara gave a wide berth to the throne room. She was consciously suppressing her magical presence, but she wasn’t sure how strong those daemons’ senses were. They were not hiding their auras, that was for sure. Chokingly dense, chillingly dark. Lunara got as close as she dared to, and crouched behind a painting of a majestic scene of battle that happened either in times long past, or only in the painter’s mind. There she waited, for passing servants’ secrets to waft to her.

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His heavy steps echoed through generally peaceful hallways as the commotion that had been caused by the Orisian Warlord as well as the others who had tossed etiquette and political awareness aside began to subside. He had left the destruction caused by his conflict with Malice in the gardens renewed and invigorated. Obtenebra shone with an ethereal luster, currently laced with remnants of La’Ruta that began to dissipate into the fabric of the environment as it sought to sever its connection with him and return to the equilibrium that it craved. This visible aura coupled with the imposing manner that he traversed through the walls caused many of the servants nearby to stare at what they believed to be one of the four Captain-Generals that had been present during the coronation. Mumbles and whispers escaped their mouths as they all recounted their perspective of the night’s events along with the shock and bewilderment of everything they saw from Orisian or foreigner alike.

 

Engraved in the armor that Obtenebra quickly fashioned was a typical black heart and pair of silver wings that had been witnessed by Agony on the knights that had protected the black dais not too long ago. It mattered little in the end as the knight moved with an unnatural speed, his gait evincing adamant purpose. Agony figured his lack of regard for those he passed provided free reign to roam the innards of this castle but a few servants had the gall to attempt to stop him hoping to extract more details concerning an event they were unable to attend. Adorned in all black, two female servants who had directed some of the attendees to their quarters for the evening extended formalities in an attempt to stop the knight.

 

“Forgive us, Captain-General but could we have just a moment of your time?”

 

The helm which covered his head snapped in their direction roughly, the servants eyeing his 8 foot massive frame. It was the crimson gaze that shot out through small slits in that helm that caused some alarm which naturally melded with the smallest possibility they may get reprimanded for wasting the time of one of the Black Queen’s most respected knights to force them to suddenly have a need to gulp and regret their curiosity. Deep baritone became muffled behind the metal of his helm but it held enough force and clarity that the women he now faced would not miss one syllable.

 

“The Queen needs me. Where is she?”

 

The two females looked confused, unsure of why a knight with the rank Agony was flaunting would not know where she may be. They tried to muster up enough courage to question but adopted the notion that the commotion of the event and the rumors that chaos ensued should have caused confusion everywhere instead. One of the women, recalled yet another odd item tonight as she had seen Gabriela strolling around in white and cotton no less! Seeing as she had yet to tell her partner in crime about this, she took the opportunity to gossip under the guise of duty and offered what she had seen.

 

“I saw her in a beautiful cotton gown walking down the long corridor that leads into one of the courtyards that way. She seemed so comfortable.”

 

The woman sighed as she envisioned herself like the queen, capable of roaming these halls with so much freedom.

 

“I’ve missed her presence here. There is nothing quite like seeing the Black Queen back where she belongs…right?”

 

She realized who she just asked this questioned too and felt the awkwardness seep in.

 

Agony, meanwhile, had already begun walking away from the duo as soon as he saw the woman point to the corridor just a few feet away from him. He walked past the painting Lunara hid behind, unable to sense her but staring intensely at it for a few seconds as if he did. As soon as those seconds passed, however, he moved down the corridor with speed that mimicked that of the rumored celerity of the Orisian vampyre. The uncertainty of the longevity of the effects of Lunara’s blood urged him forward even more. This speed would lead him directly to where the Black Queen walked so casually in the courtyard, stopping several feet away from her position to simply watch her. Witnessing the temporary reprieve he had given the Black Queen once again, he watched as she observed architecture and other ornate decorations that she herself had a hand in creating with such comfort. Structures of her own creation were what had inevitably plagued this woman, however. She’d soon be free from her own oppression.

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