Kylmi had wondered up ahead in her meandering healing processes, after not having been acknowledged by the Prince, despite her obvious discomforts and growling, the Nymph had slunk off down the tunnel when he engaged in a queer banter with the bipedal lizard and the half breed. Which in hindsight did not necessarily bother her, as the lesser attention served her quite pleasantly in the unfolding of events in this escapade. The healing remedy had taken quite an effect on her body, but the lingering iron would continue to pool away in her blood and bones until she was graced by sun and earth, not stone and death. Her claws flexed intermittently, the random sparse of tensing muscle indicated by the regrowth of thorns and tines that was heralded by her blood and genetics, distracted by these regenerative points, she had barely noticed when more of the garrison had re-grouped and prepared for a last attempt against their charges. Kylmi's eyes snapped up just in time for her to duck, performing risque acrobatics to dodge the saber designated from her crowned head. Its curved gleam reflected the wideness of her gaze, and the clench of her felidae teeth as she dove past and allowed her battle adept companions handle him, unbeknownst of their deadly assets. She could only hope that he had peace with his deity and surrendered to his death.
With everyone engaging in battle, Kylmi had delegated herself to standing behind, lingering among the dark for just a moment longer whilst those of interesting powers and capabilities had torn through the last line of royal defense and finally ascended unto their bloody earned freedom of the despairing underground. With the sun, the warmth she felt was a tempting and seducing gleam as she witnessed, betwixt her want of the natural light and the onslaught attempting to push them back. In the amazement of observing the elf borne of green eyes, in which the sun seemed to revitalize him, Kylmi had crept upon the brink of their last-standing battle and breathed in deep the particular tang that was sunlight and its energy. Bound to nature, as she was, the texture of the world was pronounced and much more tangible, it was a warmth and taste of sunbursts and blossoms of honey as she finally emerged completely into the sun. As the others fought valiantly for one another, as if forged with time like kinsmen and war companions; protecting and assisting, Kylmi flitted to and fro and retreated back to 9 as often as she could, worried and perplexed by his condition and felt obligated to remain at his side in their escape.
But then the earth trembled, its voice permeating her thoughts with the tell tale resonance of falling hoof beats cresting upon the hill. She glanced up in time to see, through the flash of swords and glowing tremors of powers, the volley of arrows impaling the sky. Her lips gaped wide in a feral screech as 9 took it upon himself to defend most of them from the shafts and their refined points, another call of a fearful raptor tearing from her throat when he fell into unconsciousness. Her gestures fluttered uncertainly about his struck and impaled chitin, her eyes glowing with her worry and accumulating power as the hoof-trampled grass bid to her emotional worry, seeming to cluster and reach for her, reaching with their blades and roots and curling around her body and his own. She glanced over her shoulder as the Prince greeted these mounted soldiers, they were obviously loyal to him by his relieved state and tear streaked visage, but it did not alleviate her worry or her discomfort around so many individuals. Stares fell upon them all as they exchanged worry and relief, then some began to hoist them up upon leather worn saddles, although unwillingly. Kylmi bared teeth when they spoke of wagons for 9, she would ride with him then, protecting him as much as he had done for her.
Kylmi had seen men like these before, though did not know them personally, her long life had bid her sight of various banners and royals ascending and falling from grace. She had seen and witnessed many battles and wars and the willingness of Kings and Princes to blunder whichever they could. She could have retreated to the forest, it wasn't so far, all she needed to do was summon forth the usual companions of her home. It was clear that these men, and women, did not approve of their Prince's company, Kylmi has assumed that would be the case, but, despite all of his previous reluctance and seething at all of their blood lusts in the dungeon, he vouched entirely for them to accompany him to the ruins he had spoken of before. The Nymph's eyes lingered on him for that moment before the stocky limbs of a gelding cantered in her view and one of the various horsemen swung down and scooped her up, his lips proclaimed in a slight sneer upon viewing her unclothed stature, she hissed at him, just so, but relinquished her reluctance upon the steed's voice that vibrated up through his shuffling limbs. Blowing through his nose and shifting his tongue against the cold bit when the reins were tugged upon and heels were dug into his quarters, when Kylmi let out a soft mumble.
Kylmi had ridden stags, rumoured beasts of lore that were giant wolves and bears, had even ridden upon the feathers of Griffons in the north before they had retreated to skies and mountains not even she could reach. But a horse, she had never been astride upon, her clawed fingers patted his thick neck as they rode and the mount nickered at her touch as stable bred creatures like him, caged and bridled by man, had not known the graces of the wild where his brethren lived freely. In that moment, despite all she had endured, Kylmi allowed herself to bask in sun and wind as the mounted force finally fled from her horrid experience and nightmare. Her head swiveled back to keep eyes on the wagon carting 9 along with them and the amount of those that had decided to take guard around him.
Ruins of Baalor >>
Once again she had been forced to the confines of stone, Kylmi had protested vehemently when they addressed her to her quarters. Lavish and spacious compared to her earlier stay in the dungeon, but none the less confining. They did not trust her, especially something that they did not know and had spoken about, "
Captain's orders" when she requested to be at least be permitted to the grounds. She seethed at that and had, in a act of protestation, summoned vines across her room, allowed flowers to bloom and moss to hang in elaborate twists from the ceiling. She had warped her chambers into a minuscule paradise of thick greens and thorns ringing entirely around any placements of furniture she could find, she had hung from canopies made of exotic flora, had woven thorns and flowers into her hair and had scraped her antlers against her door anytime the guards passed on their many and overbearing patrols. Kylmi carved into stone and wood, chiseled pictures of teeming forests and lilies and when she requested to see 9, as rumours circulated that he was caged and bound, they had denied her of course and Kylmi took poisonous flowers and wore them like wards and talismans on her skin and hair. Her thorns were elongated by her anger, irritation evident on her face, she even requested after the Prince, and of course they had appeared appalled by her lack of respect and titles and immediately told her, in not so subtle tones, to shut her whore mouth and wait.
But Kylmi was hardly ever patient in moments like these, she had written various notes and letters, but never did send them to her family on the wings of sparrows and larks often nesting in her manipulated decorum. But when a magpie had crested upon her window and chirped, she smiled and took that as a sign before gathering her latest note, sealed it with a kiss, and bid the bird to the skies just as the guards peeked into her room and told her about the meeting and council of every prisoner. Kylmi had smiled, fangs and all, and thanked them with her often sarcastic, belittling wit, these were not her kinds of men. She enjoyed those in the seedier places and taverns of the citadel. These men were built upon foundations of moral and a code of honour only those of Eblistan blood and loyalty could uphold to. The Nymph sighed, this was not her ways of life and preference, there was nothing here but her obligation to return those favours given by 9 and the reptile, and if she was honest, to the Prince and his forces for seeing them away from that torturous Hell.
The guards had thrown cloth piece after cloth at her so that she would cover herself, but Kylmi had been adamant in not accepting their wears. She would only don the fabrics and artfully tarnished-lattice works her own kind, and by the bidding of her magpie messenger, she could only hope her mother and the others would receive the missive soon if they had not already assumed her dead. And if the troops did not find the increase of birds alarming in any way, she snickered to herself and left her chambers, vines curled along her arms and hair, constantly moving and she used them and the rather clever display of flowers and tines to assemble herself into the most proper and appropriate way. Though if she had her way, Kylmi would have sauntered around in bare nothings. Though, as it was, she supposed finally being permitted to some kind of council was a blessing, and that she would have to at least make an effort towards her lack of modesty.
The council room its self was an old custom and in her amusement, boredum, and irritation at the entire circumstance, Kylmi had occupied her time by sitting in the centre of the dome room, upon some long forgotten table in a rounded structure. Her waving fingers, light and dexterous, bid vines to wreath around her wrist and dance in the air in slow rotations that gradually darkened and coloured in purple hues, like bruises. She began crafting strange instruments with them when the Prince finally entered, flanked by his troops and what she assumed a personal body guard. She allowed her plants to rest, though they were ever weaving and moving across the table and stone work in her lax position, and listened to one of his many, pretty speeches she had been expecting and grown fond of - she had mingled with royal types before, but a Prince was something entirely different. Her brow quirked, his words were much more powerful and effective now that he was healing, though slowly, ringing with a baritone that summoned attention and was quick to grasp theirs.
Kylmi listened, and gradually, her face conformed into a perplexed scowl and look. Green eyes narrowed gradually, this situation was all too familiar. The threat of battle, of war, the ascending hopelessness with the entire possibility. She knew this sort of stand back home, when they attempted to fend off man from Isildier's borders, she didn't know if they could pull it off, for if you wanted someone dead enough, then nothing could stop you in that endeavor unless Fate was truly cruel to meddle with such affairs. Kylmi had lived for a long time, amazingly considering her many indulgences, and glanced carefully around the entire room. Her kind was not immortal, but, they lived for many centuries, her mother was considered ancient among the forests and she knew such histories that were long, long forgotten. She would, more than likely, out live most of those gathered here. She wished she could seek her mother's advice in this, for her heart was confused and muddled with wanting to return to her home that wasn't really Home and torn between helping those that had helped her. 9 wasn't present, that wasn't so much of a surprise, and many of them were garbed in bloodied wraps and dressings for their wounds. She herself had healed to near perfection with only small, blackish scars that had ringed her wrists and ankles in ill favouring bracelets that were reminders of her fall.
The Nymph glanced towards the Minotaur in his usual brash and bluster, he seemed to also desire to return the favour of saving them from the dungeon. Her lips opened to speak, to add her own speech to the cluster when someone burst into their gathering. She recognized him from the dungeon: blonde hair, a leather patch that concealed part of his blue stare. Kylmi bit around her clawed thumb when he clapped his hands and addressed them all like long, forgotten friends of sorts. She was amused by it, and smiled around her talon, enjoying his lightheartedness that she often saw in her favourites places of staking out her usual lovers. Kylmi stood upon her wooden perch of a table and hopped down from the structure, vines twining around her ankles and hips, and walked upon her clawed toes as was usual of her breed.
"
So, you're asking us to help you, you give us our freedom but in that we're not really free at all, are we? I have a lived a long time, I've seen such things like this many times, what you're asking of us is heavy, I'm sure many of us have homes that we wish to return to." Kylmi swept her arm gradually, her thorn decked wrist flexing when she gestured back to herself.
"
I'm entirely grateful to be rid of that dungeon, I had been down there for so long, I had forgotten time and the sun. I only wish for peace, the last time I had known such was almost a century ago. Forces from the West, those from the East, this is a hopeless quest of yours," she paused, they had told her his name many a time she had simply referred to him as the disdainful Prince. "
Mundhir," her tongue rolled around his name, she wasn't used to such pronunciation, as her home was of complex languages and runes of forgotten tones. "
And it is a valiant one besides that. Riches mean little to me, I've no use for such currency and reward, but my home is in threat if what you say is true. I've lost homes before to battles like this, the fires that usually are result of them have besieged and killed forests over and over again. I don't think we have much of a choice, with no place to go, to defend our homes. My kind, we have never really meddled in such wars like this, we've merely watched, and protected what we could, but even then we've died and are dwindling still." Kylmi was mindful to approach Mundhir, she didn't think his personal guards would appreciate someone like her to get so close. So she kept what she could only think was a proper distance.
"
I don't know if you would accept help from the forests, but you have it, I can promise that much at least. I doubt my brothers and sister will join me, but I can bring service from others that I know of and owe me favour." At that particular word, she paused, and cast her eyes else where. "
I also suppose that I owe you and a few others in return from seeing me from my captivity. This is my way of returning that, I've lingered among the sidelines and in the darkest places of life during my long life long enough." Kylmi laughed to herself, a chortle of amusement and something dark, savouring and twinged in the husky cadence that was character of her.
"
Besides, it sounds like fun!"
Member
CabbageAngel
Antlers
Eddie Brock
AuthorialTheory
AmongHeroes
Kefka Palazzo
Exit
Mjolnir
Lunamaria Hawke
Altered Tundra
