[center][@Seraphin][/center] [hr] [center][h1][color=92278f]The Daughter of Despiun[/color][/h1][/center] [hr] [indent][indent][i]Once again she was perched upon the ruins of her home town looking down into her father’s dead gaze before, as always, the landscape change once again. ...She was walking on water, bobbing upon the gentle waves of an ocean beneath a cloudless night sky. Far in the distance ahead was land, and out of that land grew a great fortress made of transparent gold. That was her destination. Giving no mind to her impossible feat, she moved weightlessly across the water, slouching toward the refuge of that great fortress ahead. As she drew nigh to the land, Devlin realized the fortress was not made of gold, nor was it a fortress at all – but a person, tall and strong, arms outstretched to receive her. As her feet touched down on the land she recognized this person. It was her father. Her heart leapt with wondrous joy as she fell into his ready arms. The warmth of his love folded around her as he then began to speak in a voice that was not his own, rather the voice of Mada, filling her head as if they were thoughts all her own… [b]…Os elk tarnen beoren…[/b] She knew those words! “Light after darkness!” She exclaimed, and pushed away from the man who was meant have been her father. Standing back with mouth agape her eyes beheld Mada; his emerald orbs shining with the radiance of the sun, and yet weren't blinding at all. As her mouth closed in subdued adoration, Mada lifted the bone of a beast to his mouth and blew into its end like it were a musical instrument. The gentle melodies of a flute swam in visible purple currents through the air like Aurora’s in the night, and as Devlin’s heart delighted in the spectacle taking place, she could only but watch in additional awe as the form of Mada transformed to a young human male; the scars of his neck and torso causing Devlin's joy to suddenly sink into the pit that opened within her chest. “Ren….” She uttered the name as blood began to tear from her eye. Ren then matched her own tears; torrents of blood flooding from his eyes as he removed the flute from his mouth. But the melody continued to play, growing louder and louder until it was a deafening blur of white noise while the blissful, purple currents of sound in the air descended and shrouded her person.... Then everything went black. Darkness…. Silence…. No feeling at all…. She was floating in a void, observing the endless nothingness for what was an immeasurable amount of time before the music started up again, emitting from a small spark of light that appeared before her….[/i][/indent][/indent] [hr] [indent]The darkness slivered open with the parting of her eyelids, the glow of candlelight and the sound of Ren’s flute filling her senses as she rolled her head to one side and lay eyes upon him. While he continued for the moment to play his provocative tune, her arm bent languidly at the elbow, her hand moved towards him, her fingers touched down upon the skin of his waist. “Much more pleasant than the chant of Despiun….” She said. Her soft, rasped voice spilled in a warm stream from her lips, caressing the face of the young man beside her. -Mostly every soul in all the land of Akripola knew of the Massacre at Despiun, and were aware of the Chant of Despiun, a song created to celebrate such an event. The massacre at Despiun was one of the first mass slaughter in what inevitable became a long list of monster attacks across the land. The story of Despiun carried with it a legend, however, as most great stories do. It was the tale of a sole survivor at Despiun; a young girl as it were, who was thereafter believed to roam the Western forests of Akripola, seeking to destroy any monster that dare to threaten the lives of innocent travelers. The legend referred to this girl as ‘The Daughter of Despiun’, said to be born of a witch and begotten of Death. Whether Ren knew of the legend of the Daughter of Despiun, he would have no doubt been aware, at least, of the Massacre at Despiun. Of course, the legend behind the girl said to haunt the forests wasn’t altogether true, many believed that particular part of the story to be nothing more than fables concocted by hearsay and rumors of hopeful hearts. The truth was, Devlin had spent much of the last two years being trained by Mada in a cave on the Western mountain range, and therefore couldn’t have been responsible for many of the events people had claimed to have witness since the massacre. Only more recently had she started her journey across the land in an attempt to not only avenge the death of her family, but any innocent person who stood in the path of evil - Before removing her fingers from Ren's skin, a slight tingling - similar to that of playful feathers - moved up Devlin’s arm, causing an uplifting surge of vitality to fill her body. With a small gasp she lifted into a seated position, eyes darting about to familiarize herself with the new surroundings. She wasn’t in the tavern anymore. Judging by the face of the deity displayed upon the small alter on one side of the room, this humble abode was undoubtedly part of a church. Her heart was relaxed. She felt calm… easy, as if under the effects of a calming spell; that being no different than how she usually felt after waking from one of her episodes. She had done it again. As usual she held little to no memory of her actions. In this case, her memories were a fragmented blur from the point of thrusting her blade into Queno's flesh. Leaning with back against wall, the supple contours of her ever dispassionate features returned to face Ren. It was only then she saw it staring back at her for the first time: The tortured darkness weighing heavily upon the soul that screamed so very loudly from the depth of his own eyes. “My name is Devlin...” She whispered, introduced herself to the body of suffering inside him, “…I am the daughter of Despiun… and the begotten of Death.”[/indent]