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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Creativity Forum --> Personal Creations --> The Fates of Fortune
Related thread: Fates of Fortune Art
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GM for this game: Merideth
Players for this game: Eol Fefalas
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    Messages in The Fates of Fortune
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Eol Fefalas
Turning Capashanese
RDI Staff
Karma: 447/28
7212 Posts


Circles (?)

“…you can’t do this, Nyx. It isn’t fair,” she grimaced only after silenty listening to all of what he had said; “Don’t you dare do this to me!”

Again, she seemed to have misunderstood his intent… taken the things he had offered as a way out… taken his acknowledgement of his promises to her as having thrown them in her face… become irritated and uncertain where he had only intended to soothe and reassure…

Do what? Nyx’s brow knit in confusion for an instant but the smile that had graced his lips before he kissed her didn’t fade, straight away… The mith’ganni had come, recently, to almost expect these unexpected reactions from the Wharf Witch, after all, and, while his first instinct, now, was to interject he imagined it would be best to let her continue uninterrupted. I have learned more about you by simply letting you talk than I ever have from asking, yes, melamin, he mused, staying his tongue and allowing Cay her say as she had allowed him his.

“I have no answers for you Nyx.” She spoke with her whole body, her hands flying to her sides with the palms up to emphasize that she had nothing to offer him. “I’m not even sure I understand what your questions are in order to give you an answer. Seek your stars, they are constant and bright. I am anything but…”

The assassin’s eyes flashed and his smile warmed; the change in the expression hinting at his disagreement as those words evoked images from his recent dream and the translation of that dream he’d received from Taellyn afterwards… You are my answer, Cayrimsa, he might have retorted had he allowed himself to speak just then, You are my star. A star far brighter and far more constant in my eyes than any others I have seen…
“…stop looking to me for answers,” she demanded, her voice risng still higher, “and stop giving me bulls#!t for yours!

Don’t tell me that Olsta is just the beginning,” Cay added, then, “We both know better. You pressing your back against mine and telling Dmitrova that he’d have to fight us both if he laid a hand on me might be a more poignant beginning, or perhaps it goes back further…”

A faint nod from Nyx acknowledged that truth… Quite a bit further… but, still, he held his tongue and kept his gaze even with hers.


“…to Gracchus, or even further, to the first time I felt a pair of unseen eyes watch me from the shadows…”

Perhaps further, even, than that, elen en cormamin.
“… Olsta is simply another step. Which is why, you know, I cannot just walk away…”

Again, there was an injection of warmth into the mith’ganni’s smile at her admission that they had come too far, already, for her to simply be able to walk away from it all, now. It was bittersweet warmth, though, because, beneath the surface of it he thought he could sense the beginnings of regret in the decisions she had made to get them here… and the bitter began to outway the sweet, finally causing the smile on Nyx’s lips to diminish as he considered the words she spoke next…. Barbs of truth regarding promises and crossed paths, and the allusions to forces at work which, if not fully beyond their comprehension, were, at least, at the farthest reaches.

“… take another look at your back, Nyx, and try to deny it. There are powers, much greater than Senators or Syndicate overlords, at work here that I don’t fully understand…”

As soon as she hand mentioned it, Nyx felt the tree etched on his back react, as if it were coaxed into further growth by her voice… She was right, of course. He couldn’t have denied anything she said even if he had wanted to.

And to be honest Nyx, that scares me. Don’t give me an out…” the amber fires to her soul dropped then, and his own eyes followed as she made her next confession, “I’m terrified enough right now that I might take it. But maybe you are right. Maybe I’m not sure about… about…”

Somewhere on the darkened fringes of his subconscious an ancient, ethereal voice spat out a gale of derisive laughter in hopes of invoking further doubt… but that gale was torn apart amidst the crimson branches that wove into Nyx’s mind and rendered it into little more than a whispered breeze that scarcely registered in his mind’s ear. Had it not, Nyx very well may not have been able to steel himself against what he feared she might say next… he wasn’t sure he even truly wanted to hear what it might be. It was far too late for him to second guess any of this and, for the flickering of a moment, he found himself ready to do just that… found himself trying to fathom how he could undo all that which had already been done and trying to find the words he would reply with when she had finished this most recent divulgence…

To his surprise, though, Cay never did finish the statement aloud… not with words, at any rate… Instead, as both sets of their downturned eyes contemplated the narrow span of nothingness between them, a somewhat sickened moan churned in Cay’s throat and, at the same time, the dagger he had given her hissed from its scabbard and, in her hand, interposed itself between them.

“Just… just take this back please… I wasn’t thinking last night; you’re the killer, Nyx, not me…”

Beneath the slender, black brows which had, once again, knitted together in a momentary confusion, the mith’ganni’s moon-colored eyes considered the dagger and, more, the hand which offered it back to him. The fingers that curled around the weapon’s ebon blade looked deceptively delicate given the power that they could command with little more than the sketching of an arcane symbol in the air (or, for that matter, a simple touch against his skin). There was fresh blood (evoked from the flesh by a grip more accustomed to the pain inflicted by a blade than with its handling) that seeped from somewhere beneath those fingers, he noted, and oozed along the razor’s edge to its point. There, it hesitated a moment, gathering into droplet that, when of sufficient size, fell silently to the floor painted a tiny rose petal on the stone. That first petal was as scarlet as the cloak she typically wore… the same red hue, he noticed, that Cay had professed to hate when they had last visited the Dreamweaver together… The red of the Arigainar… The second petal had not yet stroked across the cold stone of the floor when Nyx blinked and lifted his gaze in search of hers, once again.

“…It’s not mine… but please… please Nyx… you are…” she asked, the same plea in her tone as in her eyes when they lifted to meet his, “or you said you were… don’t tell me I can leave… tell me to go with you. I’m more afraid of losing you than anything…”

There was nothing sharp or cold in the smile that returned to Nyx’s lips, then… it was as soft as the touch of his fingers when they found hers and gently loosed them from around the blade… and as warm as her blood on his skin when he secured the dagger with one hand and entwined the fingers of the other with hers. “I am afraid, too,” he whispered past that smile as, lifting her bleeding hand to his lips, he drew her closer. “I fear that you are cursed,” he continued, touching his lips to a thin rivulet of blood that snaked over her knuckles, “for you can never lose me, elen en cormamin…”

His tongue flickered over his lips, sweeping the blood from them before they brushed over her’s. “You cannot leave,” he breathed during a pause in that elegant kiss, “Come with me, Cay…” The ruby-pommeled dagger whispered back into the sheathe at her hip, then, and, freed of it’s handling, Nyx’s other hand snaked around to the small of the witch’s back and pulled her into a tender embrace, “…but you keep the blade, yes? If you are to be cursed with me, you’ll likely need it… sometimes a blade is quicker than even a spell, hm?”

He wanted to linger in that moment, of course… wanted to let it take them back to the place and time where nothing in the worlds around them mattered but the fact that they were there together. As much as he wanted it, though, he didn’t let himself succumb to those wants. Not now. He couldn’t; for, if he hoped to have any of those moments in the future, his attentions had to be on the now…

There is work to be done and preparations to be made.
A purr (or was it a growl?) rumbled in his chest at that and his arms tightened subtly around her for an instant before he reluctantly released her from the embrace. His lips brushed the scarred tip of an ear and the warmth of a flushed cheek as they parted and, at last, his eyes lingering on hers, he took hold of her injured hand and let her gaze go only long enough to inspect the wound. “We tend to this,” he said, inclining his head towards her upturned palm, “properly, this time, yes? And then, we must go…”



Posted on 2011-02-08 at 02:38:06.

Eol Fefalas
Turning Capashanese
RDI Staff
Karma: 447/28
7212 Posts


The Dreamweaver's Revisited

A short while later…
The angst and tension had seeped from Cay’s demeanor it seemed… There had been a brief flash of annoyance in her eyes when, in the process of tending to the cut on her palm, Nyx had softly chastised her for not having taken better care of it to begin with but, aside from that, if there was anything left of that earlier upwelling of anxiety, it had vanished behind a veil of quiet pensiveness… He was sure that there were things she wasn’t telling him. Things, too, that he was unable to read, with any great clarity, in either her eyes or her body-language. And, though the mith’ganni wished he might somehow draw those things out so that he might help to alleviate them, he also knew that, right now, those things were a pot left unstirred. Any attempts to do so, Nyx imagined, would only serve to return her to that frenetic state from which she had recently escaped… and that sort of chaos would not be conducive travelling Drasnia’s waking streets unnoticed…. Cay was calm for the time being and that was the important thing.

The Witch remained calm, too, as she and Nyx finally abandoned the crypt and made their way from the cemetery towards where the Dreamweaver’s shoppe nestled near the eastern walls of the city. With Cay lost in the silent contemplation of her own thoughts and Nyx with his mind on necessary preparations and attentions keenly on their surroundings as they moved, few words passed between them as they whispered through the streets. Despite their silence, though, there was communication between the pair… a gentle stream of tacit contact that flowed across the scant space between them… unvoiced questions and concerns borne to the surface by a meaningful glance or a momentary hesitation in a step… those queries and fears answered or assuaged by a subtle touch or a faint smile. And so it went… the things unspoken remaining so for the entirety of the trip between the cemetery and the seamstress’ shop and not more than a word crossing the lips of sorceress or assassin until they finally swept into Taellyn’s store where, as was his habit, Nyx reached up to silence the bells that were set to tinkling by the opening of the door.

“Late again, Steppe Son,” Taellyn’s lyrical voice called from behind the curtain that separated her storefront from the storage and workspaces at the building’s rear, “I had expected you sooner.”

Nyx chuffed softly and cast a glance at Cay, rolling his yellow eyes in mock irritation, before letting them drift in the direction from whence the woman’s voice had come. “There will be a fee associated with that, I would imagine,” he smirked, releasing his muffling grip on the string of bells and locking the door before ushering Cay deeper into the store.

“You have a good imagination, boy.” The curtain rustled as if stirred by the breeze of the Dreamweaver’s light laughter.

“I have no need of imagination, crone,” Nyx replied as the matronly elf emerged, smiling, from behind the curtain, “I have a painful familiarity with your pricing that serves me just fine.”

“Now, Steppe Son,” Taellyn grinned, feigning indignance, “surely an extra copper or two…”

“Three.”

“…isn’t anywhere near your threshold of pain is… Oh…” Taellyn’s playfully mocking smile morphed into one that expressed a more genuine warmth when her silver eyes fell on Cay.

“Oh,” she repeated, her eyes dancing between the two, “and you’ve brought your lovely lady with you, again… Delightful…”

Cormamin lindua ele lle, Cayrimsa,” she said, her warm smile taking on a faint tinge of distaste when she took notice of Cay’s attire, “even dressed in that,” she added, casting a scornful look in the mith’ganni’s direction.

Nyx chuckled softly as he drew back the cowl of his cloak; “I thought that that might have been a bit more acceptable than making her walk across the city naked, yes? Although, knowing you as I do, I suppose there will be yet an additional fee for my having forced her to wear the thing, at all…”

“Hmph, you should be made to pay her for having to suffer its weight,” Taellyn shot back, reaching out a hand to gingerly lay cay’s cloak back over her shoulders and examine the now ruined coat, “What have you done to this poor girl? This is atrocious.”

“Perhaps,” Nyx smirked, wandering toward a long counter where he doffed his own cloak and relieved himself of the duffel he had packed earlier, “but the craftsmanship was passable while it lasted… You have another ready for me, yes?”

“In the back,” Taellyn answered with the wave of a hand, not bothering to glance at the assassin when she did, “you know the place…”

“And you can find something suitable for arwenamin, in short order, I would guess,” Nyx called back, having already disappeard behind the curtain, “without testing the ‘threshold of my pain’ too severely?”

“Aiya, amin nowa ikotane,” the Dreamweaver’s smile veritably sparkled with something more than mirth as she, at last, flicked a glance over her shoulder in the direction Nyx had gone and then returned her (elated?) gaze back to Cay. Her brows lifted and she mouthed the word ‘arwenho’ past the smile she presented to Cay, then…

Melaho, nowa amin, uma?” she whispered with a wink, stepping back a pace from the woman Nyx had brought to her shop for a second time.

The Wharf Witch’s cheeks flushed pink, then, and, though it was released into the air on less than a whisper, the old Dreamweaver heard Cay utter; “Melamin…”

“I had hoped as much,” Taellyn smiled knowingly. She gestured towards the fabric-draped doorway; “Come, dear, let’s see what we can find for you, hm?” Her slender fingers reached out to touch the fabric of the coat draped over the half-elf’s frame as they glided towards the rear of the shop; “And, perhaps, we shall burn this rag when we are finished…”

She drew the curtain aside, holding it out of the way as she motioned for Cay move through ahead of her and, as she did so, revealed Nyx, stripped to the waist and turned to face away from them, in the midst of donning the new coat she had made him. Her brows rose curiously when she caught a glimpse of the twisting, crimson tree that climbed the mith’ganni’s spine and had begun to spread its branches over the pale skin of his back. Taellyn’s expressive silver eyes flitted to Cay for an instant and, noting the mix of surprise and sheepishness that comingled on theWitch’s features at the sight of that tree, offered a smile that bespoke an arcane understanding…

Arwenho… Melaho… More than just your lady and your love, then, isn’t she, Steppe Son? Re naa coialle, n’uma? Ar’ lle sii’ naa he.
…When, after gently urging Cay the next few steps past the curtain, Taellyn’s eyes found their way back to Nyx, the mith’ganni had slipped his arms into the new coat, covering the mark again, and had turned to face them. “It’s as passable as the last, I hope,” the seamstress grinned as Nyx’s golden eyes lifted to, first, find Cay’s and then hers after.

“It will do,” Nyx smirked in reply as he fastened himself into the garment and tested (unnecessarily) it to ensure it would allow him the freedom of movement that his profession and preferences required. “It fits well,” he added, snugging up a strap that held the front of the thing closed before his fingers drifted to where a constellation of stars had been embroidered on the breast, “and the sigil is far more appropriate, now, I think…”

Taellyn couldn’t help but notice the warmth in the assassin’s gaze as it lifted from those threadworked stars and lingered on Cay for a moment. It was a warmth which she hadn’t seen in any expression that had played on Nyx’s features in so many years that she had stopped counting and, while she had to admit that it wasn’t completely unexcpected, it had taken her aback enough to coax a joyful tear from her…

Nyx made quick work of the rest of his preparations – strapping his belt over the new coat and relegating an assortment of blades to their proper places – and, then, with that doting smile still gracing his lips, moved forward to gather Cay in his arms and kissed her tenderly, firt on the mouth and, then, on the tip of one maimed ear before releasing the half-elf. “There are arrangments yet to be made, elen en cormamin,” he said to Cay, “I shall tend to those while the Dreamweaver tends to you, yes? And when I return, we shall need to be on our way. Time grows short.”

“Alright,” Cay murmured, her fingers and eyes lingering as long as they could on his as Nyx backed away, “Tira ten’ rashwe, ithilamin.”

…As surprising as the mith’ganni’s affectionate smile had been, though, Taellyn imagined she could have been knocked over with a feather when Nyx turned his eyes on her and said; “Diola lle, Taellyn; seler’ en ataramin.”

“Seasamin, Steppe Son,” Taellyn smiled as Nyx slipped silenty away from where she stood with Cay and, then out of the shop all together.

When he was gone, the Dreamweaver turned her eyes on Drasnia’s Witch of the Wharf again and, smiling sweetly as she gave the younger woman another once over, took her by the hand and guided her towards another room where she kept a selection of things that she imagined might just be perfect. “Come, Cay,” she cooed, “If I know Nyx, he won’t be long in making those arrangements and you and I, I think, have much to do and much to discuss in that short while, don’t we?”

((OOC: And there we go, faithful readers... keep an eye on the "Fates of Fortune Art" thread in the next day or so... I should have a rendition of Cay's new garb ready to post there before too much longer... Meri will be moving us forward with her next update, I imagine.))


Posted on 2011-02-11 at 19:44:22.
Edited on 2011-02-11 at 19:47:04 by Eol Fefalas

   
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