Igraine Member
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- Old Guild Username: Igraine
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May your weekend in the wilds be blessed with every and all manner of lovely dreams, T. That's my wish for you.
CRACK
To any normal human being standing in that hallway, barefooted and in a sodden evening gown, unaccountably hugging her arms for comfort, the sound through several inches of concrete and wood and steel would have been all but inaudible. But Elke was not normal. She was born and bred to be anything but normal, and the small but unfamiliar explosion from behind those closed double doors had the Guardian whirled about in a split second, palm slamming into the passlock.
Nothing happened. The doors remained shut.
CRACK... CRACK CRACK
"Moira! MOIRA! Open this door, NOW!" The Guardian slammed a fist into the wood, splintering the surface of the solid oak and slicing open her knuckles at the same time - not that she noticed in the least. Elke had never, not ever once in her life given anything like an order to her charge, but the strange sound combined with the unnatural separation from her sister-like sent a sudden, silent surge of adrenaline through her body instantly.
Silence from within.
Crimson drops dribbled down her ivory fingers, splattered on the marble floors in perfect little concentric circles as the Guardian waited just one moment longer before the thought clicked in her head. That same battered fist crashed into the palmreader of the passlock, shattering the clear glass as her fingers tore through the circuitry. A blinding flash, a *pop* and the smell of cooking flesh, but the Guardian tore a fistful of wiring from within, burns seared and only just starting to blister up her forearm as she reached back into the blackened hole of the pass lock.
Her face impassive, Elke reached into the hole she'd made up to her shoulder now, schematics clicking through her mind's eye as her fingers found the wires she needed, yanking them from their moorings as the doors slid open. The Guardian jerked her arm free, bleeding from a dozen long scratches from the sharp edges of torn metal, blood mottling the burns to her marred fingers.
Grey-blue eyes took in the whole of the laboratory in an instant. Two stainless steel topped tables, some twenty feet long and strewn with all her sister-like's small experiments, her tinkerings and hover screens, split the room. Against the far wall, were three glass lined pods, prototypes of the chronquanta vehicles she'd built herself, lovingly detailed. The glass door to one was propped open somehow, the small fusion engine within humming softly. Moira had hinted that this one was special, this little experiment of hers that she refused to share even with her sister-like, until she was finished entirely. The excitement in those sea green eyes was unsettling, startling, manic even - just as it had been when she was near to completing those first equations that showed the world the existence of the chronoquanta in that mathematical language she intuitively as the spoken word.
Elke's ivory brow quirked curiously, though there was no other expression of emotion to be found on her face. She could see nothing else out of place, but for the fact Aldean alone stood against the far wall by that open door, eyes wide and arms to his sides, and Moira was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is she?" Elke leapt up easily on the first table, the shortest distance between her and the well-dressed man before her a straight line.
"Elke... " Aldean's dark brown eyes widened in horror as the Guardian moved inexorably toward him. "No... Stay back... "
"Moira." Not a question. A statement now. The Guardian refused to allow a single thought cross her mind other than the retrieval of her charge.
"Stay BACK!" Aldean's arm raised swiftly, an ugly, ungainly black object in his hand and suddenly there was a flash, and another CRACK filled the room, far louder without the inches of concrete, steel and wood between them. Elke was slammed backward as she made to leap to the second table, a fire blooming in her gut as she was hurtled into the cabinetry behind her. Eyes wide with genuine surprise, the Guardian's uninjured hand went to her abdomen where she lay sprawled on the ground, coming away crimson-covered where the bullet from the antique weapon had ripped a hole through her skin.
"You don't understand, Elke! How could you!?" he screamed, he wailed, arm still outstretched though shaking with the weight of the strain and the terror. "You're as much an abomination as these machines she built! Stolen! All the mysteries of the world... All of them, to the last! And she would have ripped the last veil away, the last piece of mystery left to men - "
The next two seconds of Aldean's life were anticlimatic to say the least, though they were over blessedly quick. Elke was up off her back and over the last table in little more than a blur to the man's eyes. She slapped his gun arm away as easily as she might a child's, took his head in her two bare hands and snapped his neck, twisting his shocked, horrified face to his shoulders before she let his body drop to the ground.
A sudden wave of nausea such as she'd never known in her life, nearly sent Elke to her knees. In her mind, the Guardian knew she was bleeding out. Shot, burned, bleeding, only sheer will power kept her on her feet. She'd heard of these... These... Religious zealots, these madmen on the outlier lands who railed against Moira's work, but this was... It was for the insane. The irrational. There should have been none who might come close enough, get near her charge...
Moira.
Elke swayed on her feet, blinking away the spots that threatened to overwhelm her vision, one hand pressed against the hole in her belly as her gaze traveled with a painstaking slowness from the body of the dead man, toward the open door -
The sight splayed before her, dropped the Guardian to her knees. Moira, her Moira, her charge, her sister-like... Though she didn't know it, never heard it, the Guardian moaned softly, deep in her throat like a wounded animal as she crawled to the dead woman on the floor, her body still propping open the door to that last of her creations...
And it would be, the very last. Those sea green eyes were half-lidded and empty, her mouth open slightly. She was only a shell now, an incomplete shell of the woman she'd been. Small, torn pieces of that brilliant, incomparable brain, blood and bone dangled from the hole in the back of Moira's skull, spattered along the floor, the walls, two gaping holes in her chest, turning that sapphire blue gown a mottled, brackish purple where her life's blood had seeped and stained the cloth.
Elke pulled her sister-like to her arms, pressing her to her chest as if she could somehow share whatever heartbeat she had left to her with Moira, cradling that burnished bronze head of hair obscenely stained with crimson and brain. The Guardian lay her strangely hot, wet cheek against Moira's forehead. Still warm. Moira was still warm, but the Guardian knew she wouldn't be so for long, and that eerie moaning continued on and on, a strange counterpoint to the whine of the fusion engine that some part of Elke's mind told her would soon reach critical mass - but she just didn't care. Not anymore. There was nothing left in her world, in this life, that meant a single thing to her anymore.
There was no purpose left to her. No reason for anything, not even her own survival, and tears she had never shed in her life - not even once - slid down her cheeks to a dead woman's face as she let the whole world slide away, heard the ominous *click* and did nothing at all but hold the empty shell of her sister-like closely. She waited with the door propped open, and the fire she knew would come when this machine shorted, and vaporized everything in this laboratory.
Elke never screamed, never flinched, an eternally silent sentinel as she felt that first pulse of fire wash over her, her entire being unknitting, blessed freedom at last, freedom from the unbearable agony of being without her sister-like, her purpose, her entire reason to be from beginning to end.
The Guardian smiled, and then knew nothing more.
**********
Pain. Nothing but pure, pristine, unrelenting pain singing along every last nerve in her body, an exquisite symphony of agony that strangled a gurgled scream from her throat, whether she would or no. Elke blinked slowly, her eyes opening unseeing, uncomprehending, as the grey light coalesced above her head in forms... Thin shapes, dark...
There was a weight on her chest - she could feel it but not understand what it might be... Sticky... Something felt sticky against her hand, thick, heavy and... And hard - and she couldn't catch her breath, only short sips of cold, strange-tasting air.
And somewhere very, very close, Elke heard a song of sorts ring out from living throats, a wail, a call, utterly without words yet still eerily beautiful to her hearing, sodden and dull as it was, as if she were submerged in water.
To any normal human being standing in that hallway, barefooted and in a sodden evening gown, unaccountably hugging her arms for comfort, the sound through several inches of concrete and wood and steel would have been all but inaudible. But Elke was not normal. She was born and bred to be anything but normal, and the small but unfamiliar explosion from behind those closed double doors had the Guardian whirled about in a split second, palm slamming into the passlock.
Nothing happened. The doors remained shut.
CRACK... CRACK CRACK
"Moira! MOIRA! Open this door, NOW!" The Guardian slammed a fist into the wood, splintering the surface of the solid oak and slicing open her knuckles at the same time - not that she noticed in the least. Elke had never, not ever once in her life given anything like an order to her charge, but the strange sound combined with the unnatural separation from her sister-like sent a sudden, silent surge of adrenaline through her body instantly.
Silence from within.
Crimson drops dribbled down her ivory fingers, splattered on the marble floors in perfect little concentric circles as the Guardian waited just one moment longer before the thought clicked in her head. That same battered fist crashed into the palmreader of the passlock, shattering the clear glass as her fingers tore through the circuitry. A blinding flash, a *pop* and the smell of cooking flesh, but the Guardian tore a fistful of wiring from within, burns seared and only just starting to blister up her forearm as she reached back into the blackened hole of the pass lock.
Her face impassive, Elke reached into the hole she'd made up to her shoulder now, schematics clicking through her mind's eye as her fingers found the wires she needed, yanking them from their moorings as the doors slid open. The Guardian jerked her arm free, bleeding from a dozen long scratches from the sharp edges of torn metal, blood mottling the burns to her marred fingers.
Grey-blue eyes took in the whole of the laboratory in an instant. Two stainless steel topped tables, some twenty feet long and strewn with all her sister-like's small experiments, her tinkerings and hover screens, split the room. Against the far wall, were three glass lined pods, prototypes of the chronquanta vehicles she'd built herself, lovingly detailed. The glass door to one was propped open somehow, the small fusion engine within humming softly. Moira had hinted that this one was special, this little experiment of hers that she refused to share even with her sister-like, until she was finished entirely. The excitement in those sea green eyes was unsettling, startling, manic even - just as it had been when she was near to completing those first equations that showed the world the existence of the chronoquanta in that mathematical language she intuitively as the spoken word.
Elke's ivory brow quirked curiously, though there was no other expression of emotion to be found on her face. She could see nothing else out of place, but for the fact Aldean alone stood against the far wall by that open door, eyes wide and arms to his sides, and Moira was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is she?" Elke leapt up easily on the first table, the shortest distance between her and the well-dressed man before her a straight line.
"Elke... " Aldean's dark brown eyes widened in horror as the Guardian moved inexorably toward him. "No... Stay back... "
"Moira." Not a question. A statement now. The Guardian refused to allow a single thought cross her mind other than the retrieval of her charge.
"Stay BACK!" Aldean's arm raised swiftly, an ugly, ungainly black object in his hand and suddenly there was a flash, and another CRACK filled the room, far louder without the inches of concrete, steel and wood between them. Elke was slammed backward as she made to leap to the second table, a fire blooming in her gut as she was hurtled into the cabinetry behind her. Eyes wide with genuine surprise, the Guardian's uninjured hand went to her abdomen where she lay sprawled on the ground, coming away crimson-covered where the bullet from the antique weapon had ripped a hole through her skin.
"You don't understand, Elke! How could you!?" he screamed, he wailed, arm still outstretched though shaking with the weight of the strain and the terror. "You're as much an abomination as these machines she built! Stolen! All the mysteries of the world... All of them, to the last! And she would have ripped the last veil away, the last piece of mystery left to men - "
The next two seconds of Aldean's life were anticlimatic to say the least, though they were over blessedly quick. Elke was up off her back and over the last table in little more than a blur to the man's eyes. She slapped his gun arm away as easily as she might a child's, took his head in her two bare hands and snapped his neck, twisting his shocked, horrified face to his shoulders before she let his body drop to the ground.
A sudden wave of nausea such as she'd never known in her life, nearly sent Elke to her knees. In her mind, the Guardian knew she was bleeding out. Shot, burned, bleeding, only sheer will power kept her on her feet. She'd heard of these... These... Religious zealots, these madmen on the outlier lands who railed against Moira's work, but this was... It was for the insane. The irrational. There should have been none who might come close enough, get near her charge...
Moira.
Elke swayed on her feet, blinking away the spots that threatened to overwhelm her vision, one hand pressed against the hole in her belly as her gaze traveled with a painstaking slowness from the body of the dead man, toward the open door -
The sight splayed before her, dropped the Guardian to her knees. Moira, her Moira, her charge, her sister-like... Though she didn't know it, never heard it, the Guardian moaned softly, deep in her throat like a wounded animal as she crawled to the dead woman on the floor, her body still propping open the door to that last of her creations...
And it would be, the very last. Those sea green eyes were half-lidded and empty, her mouth open slightly. She was only a shell now, an incomplete shell of the woman she'd been. Small, torn pieces of that brilliant, incomparable brain, blood and bone dangled from the hole in the back of Moira's skull, spattered along the floor, the walls, two gaping holes in her chest, turning that sapphire blue gown a mottled, brackish purple where her life's blood had seeped and stained the cloth.
Elke pulled her sister-like to her arms, pressing her to her chest as if she could somehow share whatever heartbeat she had left to her with Moira, cradling that burnished bronze head of hair obscenely stained with crimson and brain. The Guardian lay her strangely hot, wet cheek against Moira's forehead. Still warm. Moira was still warm, but the Guardian knew she wouldn't be so for long, and that eerie moaning continued on and on, a strange counterpoint to the whine of the fusion engine that some part of Elke's mind told her would soon reach critical mass - but she just didn't care. Not anymore. There was nothing left in her world, in this life, that meant a single thing to her anymore.
There was no purpose left to her. No reason for anything, not even her own survival, and tears she had never shed in her life - not even once - slid down her cheeks to a dead woman's face as she let the whole world slide away, heard the ominous *click* and did nothing at all but hold the empty shell of her sister-like closely. She waited with the door propped open, and the fire she knew would come when this machine shorted, and vaporized everything in this laboratory.
Elke never screamed, never flinched, an eternally silent sentinel as she felt that first pulse of fire wash over her, her entire being unknitting, blessed freedom at last, freedom from the unbearable agony of being without her sister-like, her purpose, her entire reason to be from beginning to end.
The Guardian smiled, and then knew nothing more.
Pain. Nothing but pure, pristine, unrelenting pain singing along every last nerve in her body, an exquisite symphony of agony that strangled a gurgled scream from her throat, whether she would or no. Elke blinked slowly, her eyes opening unseeing, uncomprehending, as the grey light coalesced above her head in forms... Thin shapes, dark...
There was a weight on her chest - she could feel it but not understand what it might be... Sticky... Something felt sticky against her hand, thick, heavy and... And hard - and she couldn't catch her breath, only short sips of cold, strange-tasting air.
And somewhere very, very close, Elke heard a song of sorts ring out from living throats, a wail, a call, utterly without words yet still eerily beautiful to her hearing, sodden and dull as it was, as if she were submerged in water.
woohoo! *grins* Forward motion! Love it! And great post, you two - I'll have something up likely tomorrow, have a touch of catching up to do, plus... Studying... *booooo!*
Wow... Because like, pairing up socks is simply exhausting guys?
Really?
Anyway, back to London with us all, with the post that probably should have happened at least one posting ago for me - and I pray you'll all forgive me. It seems a wire or two got crossed along the way >< There were gifts promised along the way as well for those who went to retrieve Max - pick your blessing I suppose? Or if your character is broke, perhaps at least get healed if you like, from the goddess of magic, fertility and healing? Up to you of course, but Heroes may never let me loose again, so use sense and have at it! *grins*
Really?
Anyway, back to London with us all, with the post that probably should have happened at least one posting ago for me - and I pray you'll all forgive me. It seems a wire or two got crossed along the way >< There were gifts promised along the way as well for those who went to retrieve Max - pick your blessing I suppose? Or if your character is broke, perhaps at least get healed if you like, from the goddess of magic, fertility and healing? Up to you of course, but Heroes may never let me loose again, so use sense and have at it! *grins*
Veti laughed softly, and shrugged a little, and gave Artie's neck a loving squeeze before she stood to her feet. "I'm sorry, Daisy, that was a lot and hey, I already know I'm the Queen of Awkward Silences," she quipped to Reaper. "No need to answer now - probably not the time anyway. Need to get this 'Key of Life' here back to a certain goddess and... "
The werewolf's voice trailed off a moment, turning her face upward as if to test the winds, though there were none to be had here.
And then Veti realized, there was. It was a warm, subtle breeze, a zephyr that moved playfully among these strange, weary travelers, like delighted laughter - for that is very much what it was. The lights that shone among them - not a one disappointed the goddess as she moved as she could among them here in the Vaults. The Key of Life, her own precious creation, knew its Progenitor. Her call lifted the werewolf's hand skyward with the Ankh, floating easily above the travelers' heads some twenty feet.
As it rose, the Ankh began to glow a deep amber-gold from within its depths, a fiery light that intensified in brightness until it shone like a second sun, near painful to look on.
"Well done, travelers." Isis' voice moved amongst the breezes, tickling the vast, supernatural greenery about them, the scent of verdant life near palpable now. "You will not be able to return the way you came. The way back to the Library through here is closed to you now - but no, you will not be left here in the Vaults after all your troubles. Your party will return to... London, yes werewolf? To the offices of Bain & Hoyle on the Thames?"
Veti could only nod her response, as pleasantly dumbfounded in the presence of Isis, the very embodiment of Life, as she'd been amongst the Irish stones - perhaps even more so, now that She was no longer "simply" a woman, or "simply" a kite.
And the goddess too, could at last savor the brilliant aura of each as she would, the spectacular glow of both the living mortals and the living souls of the undead.
Their lights, their myriad colors, were simply... Magnificent.
Overhead, the Key of Life burned brighter still, blazing now as if made of the very stuff of the sun itself, roiling to its molten depths. The burst into shards of every color and none, a silent supernova of perfect, blinding intensity that suddenly collapsed back into itself - and then winked from sight as if it had never been.
"To Atticus then. Farewell beautiful travelers." The voice of the goddess seemed no more than a whisper now. The daylight of the Vaults almost as dim as dusk to Veti's eyes as she blinked, rubbing at her light-spotted eyes with a grin.
The silvery light of the lotus was the veritable the moon to the sun of the Ankh, a cool, rain-kissed wind replacing the warm breeze as the flower opened further still, as if finally sharing the essence of its own soul. More than just a key it seemed, like living moon-filtered pollen the wispy tendrils descended, snaked among the party and wrapped each in a tender, misty caress.
Veti laughed with the purest joy she'd known in nigh on a year now, waving farewell to the enigmatic Vas'o'los before sprinting to her lover, throwing herself in his arms. "We'll be traveling together from now on," she whispered in his ear before kissing him fully, eagerly, as the lotus' mists wrapped around them.
As peaceful as the wings of the goddess had transported them to the Library, so to was travel by the breath of Isis. Each of those who chose to see Max returned from the gates of death would find safety, assurance, even joy if they would as the darkness closed about them briefly, a warm cocoon through space and time in the arms of a Mother.
And then a gentle rebirth as the darkness lifted, to a sight far removed from the strangely bucolic wilds of the Vaults. Veti opened one eye mid-kiss, to peer around at her surroundings for a moment when she felt her boots touch solid ground once more. The grand hall inside the London office of Bain & Hoyle. Mixed feelings of course, but at least she knew damn well the bedroom accommodations were first rate.
She didn't bother to wonder how they'd managed to land inside the keep proper, past the enchantments and the guardian Oni. Frankly, at this moment Veti had her hands full and her mind very pleasantly "otherwise occupied."
The werewolf's voice trailed off a moment, turning her face upward as if to test the winds, though there were none to be had here.
And then Veti realized, there was. It was a warm, subtle breeze, a zephyr that moved playfully among these strange, weary travelers, like delighted laughter - for that is very much what it was. The lights that shone among them - not a one disappointed the goddess as she moved as she could among them here in the Vaults. The Key of Life, her own precious creation, knew its Progenitor. Her call lifted the werewolf's hand skyward with the Ankh, floating easily above the travelers' heads some twenty feet.
As it rose, the Ankh began to glow a deep amber-gold from within its depths, a fiery light that intensified in brightness until it shone like a second sun, near painful to look on.
"Well done, travelers." Isis' voice moved amongst the breezes, tickling the vast, supernatural greenery about them, the scent of verdant life near palpable now. "You will not be able to return the way you came. The way back to the Library through here is closed to you now - but no, you will not be left here in the Vaults after all your troubles. Your party will return to... London, yes werewolf? To the offices of Bain & Hoyle on the Thames?"
Veti could only nod her response, as pleasantly dumbfounded in the presence of Isis, the very embodiment of Life, as she'd been amongst the Irish stones - perhaps even more so, now that She was no longer "simply" a woman, or "simply" a kite.
And the goddess too, could at last savor the brilliant aura of each as she would, the spectacular glow of both the living mortals and the living souls of the undead.
Their lights, their myriad colors, were simply... Magnificent.
Overhead, the Key of Life burned brighter still, blazing now as if made of the very stuff of the sun itself, roiling to its molten depths. The burst into shards of every color and none, a silent supernova of perfect, blinding intensity that suddenly collapsed back into itself - and then winked from sight as if it had never been.
"To Atticus then. Farewell beautiful travelers." The voice of the goddess seemed no more than a whisper now. The daylight of the Vaults almost as dim as dusk to Veti's eyes as she blinked, rubbing at her light-spotted eyes with a grin.
The silvery light of the lotus was the veritable the moon to the sun of the Ankh, a cool, rain-kissed wind replacing the warm breeze as the flower opened further still, as if finally sharing the essence of its own soul. More than just a key it seemed, like living moon-filtered pollen the wispy tendrils descended, snaked among the party and wrapped each in a tender, misty caress.
Veti laughed with the purest joy she'd known in nigh on a year now, waving farewell to the enigmatic Vas'o'los before sprinting to her lover, throwing herself in his arms. "We'll be traveling together from now on," she whispered in his ear before kissing him fully, eagerly, as the lotus' mists wrapped around them.
As peaceful as the wings of the goddess had transported them to the Library, so to was travel by the breath of Isis. Each of those who chose to see Max returned from the gates of death would find safety, assurance, even joy if they would as the darkness closed about them briefly, a warm cocoon through space and time in the arms of a Mother.
And then a gentle rebirth as the darkness lifted, to a sight far removed from the strangely bucolic wilds of the Vaults. Veti opened one eye mid-kiss, to peer around at her surroundings for a moment when she felt her boots touch solid ground once more. The grand hall inside the London office of Bain & Hoyle. Mixed feelings of course, but at least she knew damn well the bedroom accommodations were first rate.
She didn't bother to wonder how they'd managed to land inside the keep proper, past the enchantments and the guardian Oni. Frankly, at this moment Veti had her hands full and her mind very pleasantly "otherwise occupied."
Antonia's fingers played lightly a moment longer with the longish gold-auburn ends of Thomas' hair as he began to speak, before she moved to take her seat once more. She was content to see that smile returned to his face, and wondered if Thomas had the least notion what a roguish light burned in his own copper eyes when he spoke of these grand ventures.
Antonia chuckled softly under her breath as she sat back in her seat, lifting her mug of wine to her lips. "Good authority" indeed. But when Captain Lightfoot had finished briefing the crew assembled, she lifted her mug of wine in a silent toast of approval, smiling widely as she nodded to all three assembled that yes, yes of course she was all in with the proffered plan. Antonia took another long drink of her wine, her gaze falling to the first mate and the helmsman expectantly -
"Tante 'Tonia?"
Small fingers tapped her shoulder. Startled, the rogue shot straight up in her chair, only just barely sparing her dignity and keeping most of the wine from sputtering out her nose. While the others certainly may have seen the boy approaching behind her in his long white linen nightshirt, Antonia knew exactly who to blame for his impossibly silent steps, and cursed incomprehensibly between coughs. She spun about in her chair, catching her breath and remembering her smile.
Luc's dark, amber-lit eyes met her own, somber and large set in that cherubic face with the halo of ebony curls. "Tante 'Tonia," he whispered, his gaze traveling over the other adults gathered at the table, lighting a touch longer on Captain Lightfoot, the man with the gold coins, "I had a nightmare. You weren't abed yet... "
Antonia chuckled, shaking her head at her own foolishness, even as she ran her fingers lovingly over the boy's tousled head. She did not need to ask why he had not sought out his Maman or his Papa tonight. When the Dusk Skate was docked in Port Royal, it was Tante 'Tonia the story teller, the bringer of sweet dreams and silly laughter from the seas who chased away any night terrors. Antonia stood to her feet, nodding politely to them all as she took Luc's smaller hand in her own.
"Pardonnez-moi," she said softly, ready to take the boy back to his room when he stopped still, peering over his shoulder back to the table, to the intriguing adults gathered about the coin and the drink and all that food.
"Tante 'Tonia, I should like a slice of papaya with candied ginger before bed. Perhaps it would calm my stomach?"
Antonia blinked in genuine surprise as she looked down at the boy, and then her eyes narrowed shrewdly, thoughtfully. Crafty little thing, he was, and she almost laughed aloud as she watched his gaze move from the grandly-generous captain, to the smiling helmsman with the spectacular lengths of barely-tended blonde hair, to the first mate. Luc's sight lingered some moments on those stunning pale eyes and all that golden hair caught back from her angelic face, and it was his turn to blink now.
"Please?"
The rogue laughed to herself, still holding the boy's hand as she answered his sweetly duplicitous plea without a word. Taking her seat once more, she offered him her arms to climb into her lap, but Luc took a stop back, shaking his head as he let loose her hand and pushed up a seat from a nearby table, on the side of the table closest to the lovely Nicolette.
Antonia covered her mouth with her fingers, to keep the laughter behind her lips. "You may stay a moment longer, mon petit chou-chou," she whispered to Luc, even as his gaze was drawn, time and time again, to linger on the first mate, "But you may not interrupt the conversation of the adults. You understand, yes?"
Antonia smiled as she halved a papaya with her knife, deftly scooping the seeds from the from the fruit to an extra plate, before halving the cleaned piece yet again and setting both pieces before Luc. "The man with the smile, he is Monsieur Jax. He steers the Dusk Skate," she bent to whisper in his ear as he ate the papaya, "And Capitaine Lightfoot you met earlier today, did you not?"
The little boy nodded agreeably, smiling through the ring of papaya juice over his lips. Oh yes, he remembered the man with the gold piece very well! "And this is the First Mate, Mademoiselle Nicolette."
Luc studied the exquisite woman a moment longer, before leaning to Antonia. "Tante 'Tonia, do you think she knows she wears men's clothing?" he whispered.
Antonia bit her lip the inside of her lip, hard, the only sign of her mirth her softly shaking shoulders. "Yes Luc, I imagine she is well aware of this."
"She is still so lovely, like the statues of the Blessed Virgin or one of the angels in the church vestibule."
Antonia reached to the tray she had brought earlier, picking up a few pieces of the candied ginger with her fingers to set before the boy, though her grey eyes turned to the first mate with a slow, thoughtful smile. "Aye Luc, 'tis true, she is."
Antonia chuckled softly under her breath as she sat back in her seat, lifting her mug of wine to her lips. "Good authority" indeed. But when Captain Lightfoot had finished briefing the crew assembled, she lifted her mug of wine in a silent toast of approval, smiling widely as she nodded to all three assembled that yes, yes of course she was all in with the proffered plan. Antonia took another long drink of her wine, her gaze falling to the first mate and the helmsman expectantly -
"Tante 'Tonia?"
Small fingers tapped her shoulder. Startled, the rogue shot straight up in her chair, only just barely sparing her dignity and keeping most of the wine from sputtering out her nose. While the others certainly may have seen the boy approaching behind her in his long white linen nightshirt, Antonia knew exactly who to blame for his impossibly silent steps, and cursed incomprehensibly between coughs. She spun about in her chair, catching her breath and remembering her smile.
Luc's dark, amber-lit eyes met her own, somber and large set in that cherubic face with the halo of ebony curls. "Tante 'Tonia," he whispered, his gaze traveling over the other adults gathered at the table, lighting a touch longer on Captain Lightfoot, the man with the gold coins, "I had a nightmare. You weren't abed yet... "
Antonia chuckled, shaking her head at her own foolishness, even as she ran her fingers lovingly over the boy's tousled head. She did not need to ask why he had not sought out his Maman or his Papa tonight. When the Dusk Skate was docked in Port Royal, it was Tante 'Tonia the story teller, the bringer of sweet dreams and silly laughter from the seas who chased away any night terrors. Antonia stood to her feet, nodding politely to them all as she took Luc's smaller hand in her own.
"Pardonnez-moi," she said softly, ready to take the boy back to his room when he stopped still, peering over his shoulder back to the table, to the intriguing adults gathered about the coin and the drink and all that food.
"Tante 'Tonia, I should like a slice of papaya with candied ginger before bed. Perhaps it would calm my stomach?"
Antonia blinked in genuine surprise as she looked down at the boy, and then her eyes narrowed shrewdly, thoughtfully. Crafty little thing, he was, and she almost laughed aloud as she watched his gaze move from the grandly-generous captain, to the smiling helmsman with the spectacular lengths of barely-tended blonde hair, to the first mate. Luc's sight lingered some moments on those stunning pale eyes and all that golden hair caught back from her angelic face, and it was his turn to blink now.
"Please?"
The rogue laughed to herself, still holding the boy's hand as she answered his sweetly duplicitous plea without a word. Taking her seat once more, she offered him her arms to climb into her lap, but Luc took a stop back, shaking his head as he let loose her hand and pushed up a seat from a nearby table, on the side of the table closest to the lovely Nicolette.
Antonia covered her mouth with her fingers, to keep the laughter behind her lips. "You may stay a moment longer, mon petit chou-chou," she whispered to Luc, even as his gaze was drawn, time and time again, to linger on the first mate, "But you may not interrupt the conversation of the adults. You understand, yes?"
Antonia smiled as she halved a papaya with her knife, deftly scooping the seeds from the from the fruit to an extra plate, before halving the cleaned piece yet again and setting both pieces before Luc. "The man with the smile, he is Monsieur Jax. He steers the Dusk Skate," she bent to whisper in his ear as he ate the papaya, "And Capitaine Lightfoot you met earlier today, did you not?"
The little boy nodded agreeably, smiling through the ring of papaya juice over his lips. Oh yes, he remembered the man with the gold piece very well! "And this is the First Mate, Mademoiselle Nicolette."
Luc studied the exquisite woman a moment longer, before leaning to Antonia. "Tante 'Tonia, do you think she knows she wears men's clothing?" he whispered.
Antonia bit her lip the inside of her lip, hard, the only sign of her mirth her softly shaking shoulders. "Yes Luc, I imagine she is well aware of this."
"She is still so lovely, like the statues of the Blessed Virgin or one of the angels in the church vestibule."
Antonia reached to the tray she had brought earlier, picking up a few pieces of the candied ginger with her fingers to set before the boy, though her grey eyes turned to the first mate with a slow, thoughtful smile. "Aye Luc, 'tis true, she is."
Veti's eyebrow cocked curiously as her gaze traveled from Daisy to Semyon, at an utter loss for what in the world had transpired between the two. Still, if the sour body language of the Reaper and the deliberate words of the wight were any indication, it was likely less than pleasant though for the life of her, the werewolf could not understand how this should be. She tucked the smartphone back into her pocket, before vigorously scratching Artie's ebony ruff with both hands now, whispering softly to the hellhound.
'What'd I miss boy? What in the world did I miss, hmm?'
The one thing Veti couldn't begin to miss, was how this entire trip had effected Daisy, up to and including what should have been its successful, joyous ending that somehow only sent the Reaper further down the brooding hole.
She could really only deal with one brooding roommate at a time, and Siya had claimed that role from way back...
"Daisy," the werewolf began softly, gently shoving her shoulder into the Reaper's own, just begging the young-seeming woman for a moment's attention, to turn her bubblegum pink head and look at her. "Daisy, I know this past year or so... It hasn't been easy on you. I'm not a completely self-absorbed, oblivious idiot you know. Just mostly."
Veti smiled softly as the fingers of one hand ran gently over the smooth black hairs on the top of Artie's enormous head. "I'm not really very good at this, and I'll probably make a hash of this but before we get back? I want you to know... I mean, I know you felt bad, for what happened to Max, or to Thad - even though it was never your fault. Not ever, and I never blamed you. Not even a little. He's a grown man with a mind of his own, and he made his own decision. He knew the risks."
"But I'd like to believe you hung around this past year or so, for more than just that. I know I've been about as much fun as a swift kick in the face... " The werewolf shrugged, and laughed a little, her eyes sliding back toward Artie, as if she really couldn't look the Reaper in the eye at that moment.
"But now that he's back - and 'thank you' seems a little lame to say for all you've done, all the shit you've put up with from me, helping to retrieve this ancient relic of Eternal Life," the werewolf laughed as she lifted the Ankh up, "And then sealing off a rising tide of imminent death, and so on... "
"I like knowing you're around Daisy. You're my friend, you know, well... At least, that's how I think of you and... And I don't want you thinking you just have to go disappear now that that enormous charmer over there," she added with a guffaw of laughter and a jerk of her thumb in her lover's direction, "Is back on the side of the living. I mean if you want to go? I'm not going to keep you from a single thing, but... "
Veti shrugged again, her smiling turning a little sheepish as she looked to Daisy again. "Just know, you don't have to go anywhere if you don't want to. And I'd like it very much, if you decided to stay." She wrapped one arm around the hellhound, turning her head just so to ensure she gave Daisy the perfect picture of sapphire blue, pleading puppy dog eyes, right alongside Artie's midnight orbs. "Oh, and your little dog too," she added with a wide, sappy grin.
'What'd I miss boy? What in the world did I miss, hmm?'
The one thing Veti couldn't begin to miss, was how this entire trip had effected Daisy, up to and including what should have been its successful, joyous ending that somehow only sent the Reaper further down the brooding hole.
She could really only deal with one brooding roommate at a time, and Siya had claimed that role from way back...
"Daisy," the werewolf began softly, gently shoving her shoulder into the Reaper's own, just begging the young-seeming woman for a moment's attention, to turn her bubblegum pink head and look at her. "Daisy, I know this past year or so... It hasn't been easy on you. I'm not a completely self-absorbed, oblivious idiot you know. Just mostly."
Veti smiled softly as the fingers of one hand ran gently over the smooth black hairs on the top of Artie's enormous head. "I'm not really very good at this, and I'll probably make a hash of this but before we get back? I want you to know... I mean, I know you felt bad, for what happened to Max, or to Thad - even though it was never your fault. Not ever, and I never blamed you. Not even a little. He's a grown man with a mind of his own, and he made his own decision. He knew the risks."
"But I'd like to believe you hung around this past year or so, for more than just that. I know I've been about as much fun as a swift kick in the face... " The werewolf shrugged, and laughed a little, her eyes sliding back toward Artie, as if she really couldn't look the Reaper in the eye at that moment.
"But now that he's back - and 'thank you' seems a little lame to say for all you've done, all the shit you've put up with from me, helping to retrieve this ancient relic of Eternal Life," the werewolf laughed as she lifted the Ankh up, "And then sealing off a rising tide of imminent death, and so on... "
"I like knowing you're around Daisy. You're my friend, you know, well... At least, that's how I think of you and... And I don't want you thinking you just have to go disappear now that that enormous charmer over there," she added with a guffaw of laughter and a jerk of her thumb in her lover's direction, "Is back on the side of the living. I mean if you want to go? I'm not going to keep you from a single thing, but... "
Veti shrugged again, her smiling turning a little sheepish as she looked to Daisy again. "Just know, you don't have to go anywhere if you don't want to. And I'd like it very much, if you decided to stay." She wrapped one arm around the hellhound, turning her head just so to ensure she gave Daisy the perfect picture of sapphire blue, pleading puppy dog eyes, right alongside Artie's midnight orbs. "Oh, and your little dog too," she added with a wide, sappy grin.
Hi there Nevis, and welcome back to RPG. No, I'm afraid there isn't really an opening for your character in this particular episode, but it's still so good of you to remember us, and come back in to wish us well! Thank you for thinking of us and visiting, hon!
eta: I'm not sure if sublime rocks are a good thing or bad Wordsmith, but still most sorry for your boredom. I imagine the scent is not exactly... pleasant...
eta: I'm not sure if sublime rocks are a good thing or bad Wordsmith, but still most sorry for your boredom. I imagine the scent is not exactly... pleasant...
GAH! Just went from creepy to terrifying with the moth man! D:
I'll just PM you real quick, to work out the proper timing of a few things is all - nothing huge or earthshattering, just making sure coordinations make sense is all.
I'll just PM you real quick, to work out the proper timing of a few things is all - nothing huge or earthshattering, just making sure coordinations make sense is all.
And I caught it, fumbled it for a few moments and then punted after my test ;) I know you've got a busy week, and an even busier weekend planned, so when you can respond would be just fine of course. I only just need one more post, and then they should at least be in the same... World? *grins*
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