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[281] Nymaya: The Line
Sat May 29 14:30:58 2010
To: New_Thalos All Keylan ( Reklah ) ( RP )
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The hours before dawn always seemed darkest and within the desert, oft held a bitter chill.
They were hours she had come to enjoy, though there was a lament to be found in them as her gaze trained southward, toward a black Keep that contained many of the answers she sought alongside many more questions yet.
Her sword drew a slow half circle in the sand at her feet as her dark blue gaze angled down. She could feel something coming, in the shadows that passed before the face of the black moon. In the wind that ran ethereal fingers through her long silver hair and whispered incomprehensible things within her ears.
She felt it ring true down into the depths of her soul - and lifted her gaze beneath long lashes to mark the heady presence that stepped into the sword circle.
She'd have known him anywhere, in any form, in any reincarnation. From the black hair that hung to his shoulders through which, her fingers had run time and again; the brown eyes - now black with intent - that had captivated her so completely, to the lips that had uttered portents to change a world within.
He stood opposite her, a long black blade grasped in one hand, a shield in the other. His armor was tarnished, as if it had withstood the flames of Hell but carried the scars even as he did.
There was nothing in what she saw now within his gaze that suggested the man she knew remained.
"Does the Abyss still have you?" She breathed, her voice a ghostly thing. As if she'd already crossed over that precarious line.
No. Came his answer and one black boot took a step closer, angling into a stance she'd seen him take before.
She knew she'd die if this happened - here and now. She was not his match. She wouldn't back down though, and she knew he knew that.
It has you.
And he took another step closer to the line that kept them apart. The wind arose then, lifting about them both as his eyes narrowed, promising so many more things worse than death.
The whisper in the wind breathed otherwise though.
And she awoke with a gasp so violent and deep that white spots burst before her nearly sightless eyes, her lithe form arching slightly from the bed in the throes of the nightmare.
The first hand that touched her shoulder broke with a clear resounding snap as her own hand shot out in response, dropping the young man to his knees with a cry of pain. The second about died as her left fist connected solidly along a specific point upon his throat, nearly crushing the airway, when he tried to intervene.
"Nymaya."
The voice was familiar, threading power and command with elegant ease, and she found herself blinking back unto full awareness. She still had the broken wrist of the first apprentice in her grasp while he writhed and the second had collapsed, blood dripping from his mouth, hands unconsciously clinging to his throat.
This wasn't the first time she had injured those attempting to rouse her from ill rest but as she looked upon them, she felt a moment of intense, black rage that they still lived - followed by profound embarrassment that she had lost control and injured the hapless fools. Even in a warded room.
What was she destined to become if she could not contain herself?
When her gaze finally settled upon the robed form of her brother standing in the archway, she could barely bring herself to believe that she saw concern. It was easier to handle his mockery and harsh sense of humor. She turned away from what she saw in his eyes as she released the apprentice with a mumbled apology and strode to the southern window. She had no idea if her
dreams were supposed to mean anything beyond what they tended to stand for in the moment, but what remained was never simple to navigate.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Inner Demons
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[272] Nymaya: Inner Demons
Fri May 21 02:18:55 2010
To: New_Thalos Keylan Dar'shin ( RP ) All
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Water fell from her in a fast torrent as she broke the surface of the pool, plastering her hair down the length of her bare back as she stood though its silver was muted in the low lantern light. Running her hands back over her scalp sent more water cascading down behind and her gaze shifted immediately to the surroundings.
Night had long since fallen upon the desert, leaving behind the eerie whisper of the wind, the origins of which felt far more steeped in shadow and dark memory. The flame of the lanterns flickered with it, even as deeply cloistered within the bath house as she found herself. One attendant dozed nearby, the only presence she had allowed to accompany her though more had tried to insist. The thought made her shake her head. The Sultan had probably sicced them on her...
Her sigh was whisper soft but still managed to be heard amongst the strange acoustics of the building. The sound stirred the attendant to wakefulness and with dutiful motions, the young woman arose carrying a small mound of towels.
Nymaya watched the dark brown gaze of the woman widen as she came near, drawn to the scars few ever saw. Abashed, the servant held a towel out when she stopped, her eyes dropping down quickly at a cool impassive blue look.
Accepting the towel slowly, Nymaya found her memories evoked by the individual marks as she stepped from the water to the tiled floor, far more pleased by the gentle lavender fragrance that followed than she could ever recall. She'd grown so used to the smell of metal and worn leather.
The act of drying was a slow, calming process - broken only once by the attendant who managed to scrounge up enough nerve perhaps to ask; 'Mi'lady, where did that one come from?'
Turning her head to glance once at the woman behind her, she noted where the woman was pointing and shifted her attention to the wide set of claw marks that were much faded but still pale and visible, ripping a long path down from her shoulder to mid-back.
"Demon" She remarked in a far-away tone. Her past was riddled with such portents. If she had bothered to take note back then, she might have seen what lie on the distant horizon for herself.
Strangely, tuning out the presence of the attendant, she found her thoughts drawn to the particularly disturbing memory of her nameless son. Wrapping the white towel around her body, she sought another while her mind tentatively picked at that infernal trial. He'd been whole and familiar to her eye. It had to have been a trick...
Trying to shake the memory from her, unwilling to dredge it up yet, she turned with the intent of seeking out her clothing - but stopped short as the sound and feel of steel piercing flesh whispered through the bath house - shuddered through her sharply.
Standing very still, her gaze met a down-turned head, which rose slowly to set familiar eyes upon her own.
"Mother" He whispered, a sound that let the pain loose through her body.
...and she awoke struggling for breath that wouldn't come for the longest time. It wasn't until she leaned over the edge of the bench, to cough blood upon the tile, that desperate gasps began to feed her lungs their lost air.
It was with a heavy sigh that she looked around, finding herself still within the mostly abandoned bath house. She'd about fallen asleep outside the warded tower.
[272] Nymaya: Inner Demons
Fri May 21 02:18:55 2010
To: New_Thalos Keylan Dar'shin ( RP ) All
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Water fell from her in a fast torrent as she broke the surface of the pool, plastering her hair down the length of her bare back as she stood though its silver was muted in the low lantern light. Running her hands back over her scalp sent more water cascading down behind and her gaze shifted immediately to the surroundings.
Night had long since fallen upon the desert, leaving behind the eerie whisper of the wind, the origins of which felt far more steeped in shadow and dark memory. The flame of the lanterns flickered with it, even as deeply cloistered within the bath house as she found herself. One attendant dozed nearby, the only presence she had allowed to accompany her though more had tried to insist. The thought made her shake her head. The Sultan had probably sicced them on her...
Her sigh was whisper soft but still managed to be heard amongst the strange acoustics of the building. The sound stirred the attendant to wakefulness and with dutiful motions, the young woman arose carrying a small mound of towels.
Nymaya watched the dark brown gaze of the woman widen as she came near, drawn to the scars few ever saw. Abashed, the servant held a towel out when she stopped, her eyes dropping down quickly at a cool impassive blue look.
Accepting the towel slowly, Nymaya found her memories evoked by the individual marks as she stepped from the water to the tiled floor, far more pleased by the gentle lavender fragrance that followed than she could ever recall. She'd grown so used to the smell of metal and worn leather.
The act of drying was a slow, calming process - broken only once by the attendant who managed to scrounge up enough nerve perhaps to ask; 'Mi'lady, where did that one come from?'
Turning her head to glance once at the woman behind her, she noted where the woman was pointing and shifted her attention to the wide set of claw marks that were much faded but still pale and visible, ripping a long path down from her shoulder to mid-back.
"Demon" She remarked in a far-away tone. Her past was riddled with such portents. If she had bothered to take note back then, she might have seen what lie on the distant horizon for herself.
Strangely, tuning out the presence of the attendant, she found her thoughts drawn to the particularly disturbing memory of her nameless son. Wrapping the white towel around her body, she sought another while her mind tentatively picked at that infernal trial. He'd been whole and familiar to her eye. It had to have been a trick...
Trying to shake the memory from her, unwilling to dredge it up yet, she turned with the intent of seeking out her clothing - but stopped short as the sound and feel of steel piercing flesh whispered through the bath house - shuddered through her sharply.
Standing very still, her gaze met a down-turned head, which rose slowly to set familiar eyes upon her own.
"Mother" He whispered, a sound that let the pain loose through her body.
...and she awoke struggling for breath that wouldn't come for the longest time. It wasn't until she leaned over the edge of the bench, to cough blood upon the tile, that desperate gasps began to feed her lungs their lost air.
It was with a heavy sigh that she looked around, finding herself still within the mostly abandoned bath house. She'd about fallen asleep outside the warded tower.
Through the Dawn & The Soul's Measure
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[273] Nymaya: Through the Dawn
Fri Apr 30 15:15:13 2010
To: New_Thalos ( Necrucifer Imm RP ) All
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She didn't need her swords today as she glowered at the straw-filled dummy before her. Her knuckles, which she had unwisely left unwrapped, were scratched and torn by the material of the dummy and sweat ran its course down her coiled body.
Her own blood riddled the tightly packed straw contraption but she had long since become numb to the pain though no matter what she did, she could not alleviate the frustrated throb at her temples. She had taken pains to study the veining that scarred her now, but one of the 'gifts' she had received for her troubles within the infernal realm, but had discovered only that when pain struck her there, it simply could not be lifted.
She hit the dummy again, a quick series of solid jabs that sent jarring pain up through her arms into her shoulders, reminding her that no matter how well she had been trained - if she didn't loosen up, she could cause herself an injury. She almost didn't care but for the sake of herself, she managed to step back and shake out the tension that kept threading itself back into her shoulders and spine.
Who the hell did she think she was?
Her jaw clenched on her own silent rebuke. Throughout the night and now, into the dawn, she had been mentally flogging herself. The question she didn't know how to answer sent her in a dangerous flurry back at the straw-filled sack. She hit it then until she was gasping and only when she came to the realization that she had drained herself unto pure exhaustion did she step away.
Blood dripped freely - from the marks of her nails dug into her palms and from the wounded flesh along every inch of the back of her hands.
A strange, alien kind of defeat drew her into the corner where she had left her armor in an uncommon haphazard pile, where she sank down. She drew her knees up, resting her forearms across each, and bowed her head over her harsh shuddering breaths.
Silence followed after a time. A thing that blessedly encompassed even her thoughts. And with that same sense of defeat draining even the stress from her, she leaned her head back against the wooden wall of the stall...
...and opened her mouth to release a single gasp of terror.
No further sound escaped her as the shadowy, emaciated fingers of the creature reached down to grasp her temples. The pain that erupted then was breath-taking and every muscle in her body locked up. Even her throat constricted so hard she couldn't breathe, even if she'd tried.
I could bathe and be content in your self-castigation upon this plane of existence, elfling. It goaded, its demonic whisper carrying the unholy scent of sulfur and blood. But I think it will be just as sweet when you join us.
The pain lessened then, leaving her panting with the remnants of agony, a fine tremble infusing her. She was trapped by its nightmarish gaze even then but mistakenly thought that it was over - until it started to laugh.
And she began to scream.
"Wali? Wali!"
She awoke with a ragged cry that rebounded off the walls of the stall, the worried hands of soldiers and guards alike holding her back. It took her only a moment to blink the fog of the nightmare away at which point, she was beset with embarrassment.
There was no way to gracefully extricate herself from this so she simply nodded to their urgent need to know if she was alright. When she wiped at her mouth and saw the blood there, she better understood what their worry had been about. Gathering up her discarded armor and weapons, and what was left of her dignity, she departed with an agreement to see a cleric.
She knew it was going to be a long day.
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[253] Nymaya: The Soul's Measure
Sun Apr 18 03:56:31 2010
To: New_Thalos Dar'shin ( RP Necrucifer Imm Religion ) Shalonesti_Kingdom
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She tried to sleep - but could not.
She tried to meditate - and failed.
The night was calm and cool, not uncomfortable within the palace, and the strange shading of the black moon cast itself through the thick pillars that lined the hallways, strung with thin lace and silk curtains.
The breeze was humid this night with the scent of the sea and jasmine and as she moved with slow, thoughtful ease along the pathways of the sprawling elegant New Thalosian palace, she found herself honestly shying away from what had been reawakened in her.
It was too much to hope for.
Too much to hope that the terrible rift in her soul could be mended. It had been there so long...
The gardeners were gone when she entered the center of the courtyard, sent back to the servant's quarters to rest, and in the reigning silence the soft bubble and churn of the natural brook was almost loud.
Almost..
She was not comfortable with lowering her guard. Not even in the midst of a protected palace, full of guards, but she did then. Bowing her head, she let fall her silver hair and closed her blue eyes to the crystal glimmer of the water below her.
The exhale she released was so heavy. Filled with all the ages of loss, anger, loneliness and despair she had managed to drag herself through. It was a wonder to her, as she let her mind skim over the past, how she had managed to maintain any aspects of who she had been.
If it had been within Shalonesti's purview to destroy her - to tear down all that she had been, all that they had created in her - well, she imagined they had done their job. Four Speakers later and the pain was still so acute. She couldn't prevent the black thought, not with the memory of the past so strong upon her this night.
..my worth can be weighed with grains of sand..
The whisper-soft resonant sound of her sword's blade slipping from its sheath filled the large but close space as her own words breathed insidiously back at her, the folded elven steel shimmering even in the false light of the black moon. She didn't feel herself sink down upon the soft grass until her knees touched the spongy surface but in the deep dark of the night, she found herself beseeching answers of the deceased. Of her past.
"Necrucifier" She breathed finally, her finger tips passing lightly over the runes etched along the length of the blade while her mind went over their fervent meaning. "Lend Your harrowed servant guidance."
...and unbidden, she heard it again. The disturbing, painful dissonance. The tainted sound mocked everything that had once been pure in her. It was strangely, wholly, fitting. She didn't try to subdue the frustrated anger that arose beside it, she just sat there, listening to it as it breathed through the blade in her grasp. She could feel madness there, could imagine slipping her fingers through its tainted essence and knew it would be so easy to embrace. She had been walking that precarious edge for a very long time now.
She began to draw back into the proverbial shell then and lifting her blade before her now flinty gaze, she thought of the measure of her soul. It was too much to hope for. But into the stillness that fell about her like a deathly pall, she recalled the Sultan's answer.
...And enough sand can kill.
[273] Nymaya: Through the Dawn
Fri Apr 30 15:15:13 2010
To: New_Thalos ( Necrucifer Imm RP ) All
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She didn't need her swords today as she glowered at the straw-filled dummy before her. Her knuckles, which she had unwisely left unwrapped, were scratched and torn by the material of the dummy and sweat ran its course down her coiled body.
Her own blood riddled the tightly packed straw contraption but she had long since become numb to the pain though no matter what she did, she could not alleviate the frustrated throb at her temples. She had taken pains to study the veining that scarred her now, but one of the 'gifts' she had received for her troubles within the infernal realm, but had discovered only that when pain struck her there, it simply could not be lifted.
She hit the dummy again, a quick series of solid jabs that sent jarring pain up through her arms into her shoulders, reminding her that no matter how well she had been trained - if she didn't loosen up, she could cause herself an injury. She almost didn't care but for the sake of herself, she managed to step back and shake out the tension that kept threading itself back into her shoulders and spine.
Who the hell did she think she was?
Her jaw clenched on her own silent rebuke. Throughout the night and now, into the dawn, she had been mentally flogging herself. The question she didn't know how to answer sent her in a dangerous flurry back at the straw-filled sack. She hit it then until she was gasping and only when she came to the realization that she had drained herself unto pure exhaustion did she step away.
Blood dripped freely - from the marks of her nails dug into her palms and from the wounded flesh along every inch of the back of her hands.
A strange, alien kind of defeat drew her into the corner where she had left her armor in an uncommon haphazard pile, where she sank down. She drew her knees up, resting her forearms across each, and bowed her head over her harsh shuddering breaths.
Silence followed after a time. A thing that blessedly encompassed even her thoughts. And with that same sense of defeat draining even the stress from her, she leaned her head back against the wooden wall of the stall...
...and opened her mouth to release a single gasp of terror.
No further sound escaped her as the shadowy, emaciated fingers of the creature reached down to grasp her temples. The pain that erupted then was breath-taking and every muscle in her body locked up. Even her throat constricted so hard she couldn't breathe, even if she'd tried.
I could bathe and be content in your self-castigation upon this plane of existence, elfling. It goaded, its demonic whisper carrying the unholy scent of sulfur and blood. But I think it will be just as sweet when you join us.
The pain lessened then, leaving her panting with the remnants of agony, a fine tremble infusing her. She was trapped by its nightmarish gaze even then but mistakenly thought that it was over - until it started to laugh.
And she began to scream.
"Wali? Wali!"
She awoke with a ragged cry that rebounded off the walls of the stall, the worried hands of soldiers and guards alike holding her back. It took her only a moment to blink the fog of the nightmare away at which point, she was beset with embarrassment.
There was no way to gracefully extricate herself from this so she simply nodded to their urgent need to know if she was alright. When she wiped at her mouth and saw the blood there, she better understood what their worry had been about. Gathering up her discarded armor and weapons, and what was left of her dignity, she departed with an agreement to see a cleric.
She knew it was going to be a long day.
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[253] Nymaya: The Soul's Measure
Sun Apr 18 03:56:31 2010
To: New_Thalos Dar'shin ( RP Necrucifer Imm Religion ) Shalonesti_Kingdom
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She tried to sleep - but could not.
She tried to meditate - and failed.
The night was calm and cool, not uncomfortable within the palace, and the strange shading of the black moon cast itself through the thick pillars that lined the hallways, strung with thin lace and silk curtains.
The breeze was humid this night with the scent of the sea and jasmine and as she moved with slow, thoughtful ease along the pathways of the sprawling elegant New Thalosian palace, she found herself honestly shying away from what had been reawakened in her.
It was too much to hope for.
Too much to hope that the terrible rift in her soul could be mended. It had been there so long...
The gardeners were gone when she entered the center of the courtyard, sent back to the servant's quarters to rest, and in the reigning silence the soft bubble and churn of the natural brook was almost loud.
Almost..
She was not comfortable with lowering her guard. Not even in the midst of a protected palace, full of guards, but she did then. Bowing her head, she let fall her silver hair and closed her blue eyes to the crystal glimmer of the water below her.
The exhale she released was so heavy. Filled with all the ages of loss, anger, loneliness and despair she had managed to drag herself through. It was a wonder to her, as she let her mind skim over the past, how she had managed to maintain any aspects of who she had been.
If it had been within Shalonesti's purview to destroy her - to tear down all that she had been, all that they had created in her - well, she imagined they had done their job. Four Speakers later and the pain was still so acute. She couldn't prevent the black thought, not with the memory of the past so strong upon her this night.
..my worth can be weighed with grains of sand..
The whisper-soft resonant sound of her sword's blade slipping from its sheath filled the large but close space as her own words breathed insidiously back at her, the folded elven steel shimmering even in the false light of the black moon. She didn't feel herself sink down upon the soft grass until her knees touched the spongy surface but in the deep dark of the night, she found herself beseeching answers of the deceased. Of her past.
"Necrucifier" She breathed finally, her finger tips passing lightly over the runes etched along the length of the blade while her mind went over their fervent meaning. "Lend Your harrowed servant guidance."
...and unbidden, she heard it again. The disturbing, painful dissonance. The tainted sound mocked everything that had once been pure in her. It was strangely, wholly, fitting. She didn't try to subdue the frustrated anger that arose beside it, she just sat there, listening to it as it breathed through the blade in her grasp. She could feel madness there, could imagine slipping her fingers through its tainted essence and knew it would be so easy to embrace. She had been walking that precarious edge for a very long time now.
She began to draw back into the proverbial shell then and lifting her blade before her now flinty gaze, she thought of the measure of her soul. It was too much to hope for. But into the stillness that fell about her like a deathly pall, she recalled the Sultan's answer.
...And enough sand can kill.
A Moment's Respite
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[236] Nymaya: A Moment's Respite
Mon Apr 12 22:16:45 2010
To: New_Thalos Reklah
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The manor was quiet and cool, a considerable change from the dry heat of the desert, but bustling with activity.
Servants and guards alike were passing to and fro. She stopped in the main foyer as a small cluster of clerics following their local Priest parted around her, pausing only briefly to address "Lady Kayen" with hurried but respectful tips of their brow.
She watched it all with an unreal sense, though she knew exactly why the estate was in a flurry.
Reklah was back. She had simply not had enough time to sit back and let it sink in.
She considered that during a long, thoughtful pause, her gaze settled upon the fountain which bubbled softly amidst the clamor. His presence in her life again was surreal, almost unbelievable. She was both pleased and uncertain.
There were a good deal of changes yet to be made, wounds to be healed. Words to be spoken.
Her gaze shifted to the dual stairway that encircled the foyer before she began the long trek up and through the various hallways, until she came to the many-roomed suite that contained their personal chambers.
It was empty but it had seen use. In nearly a decade and a half, she had barely been able to bring herself to enter it. The surreal sense continued to encase her.
Her armor came off a piece at a time. It needed repairing. Sun, sand and general use had left it a little worse for wear. She wasn't thinking particularly about that though as she gazed down the length of her left arm. Her muscles ached and she noted that the scars - marks that had been set upon her in Fatale's name for her husband - were pink again. As if newly healed. Even the ragged mark across her palm into her wrist and forearm was pink.
Closing her eyes, she shifted her attention beyond such things. All the events that had occurred after his death had lead her almost inevitably back to...him. Instead, she summoned a servant to take her armor, another to draw a bath and then she set herself to the task of quill upon parchment.
The scritch of her work was strangely relaxing as her message came forth, of particular importance but not so necessary that it need be sent immediately, so she folded the vellum with care and left it to be found before egressing to the bathing room that had been built to exquisite specification off of the master chamber - drawn by the lavender-scented water and the promise of clean flesh.
She knew sleep would come after, a prospect that now left her uneasy but could not be circumvented.
[236] Nymaya: A Moment's Respite
Mon Apr 12 22:16:45 2010
To: New_Thalos Reklah
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The manor was quiet and cool, a considerable change from the dry heat of the desert, but bustling with activity.
Servants and guards alike were passing to and fro. She stopped in the main foyer as a small cluster of clerics following their local Priest parted around her, pausing only briefly to address "Lady Kayen" with hurried but respectful tips of their brow.
She watched it all with an unreal sense, though she knew exactly why the estate was in a flurry.
Reklah was back. She had simply not had enough time to sit back and let it sink in.
She considered that during a long, thoughtful pause, her gaze settled upon the fountain which bubbled softly amidst the clamor. His presence in her life again was surreal, almost unbelievable. She was both pleased and uncertain.
There were a good deal of changes yet to be made, wounds to be healed. Words to be spoken.
Her gaze shifted to the dual stairway that encircled the foyer before she began the long trek up and through the various hallways, until she came to the many-roomed suite that contained their personal chambers.
It was empty but it had seen use. In nearly a decade and a half, she had barely been able to bring herself to enter it. The surreal sense continued to encase her.
Her armor came off a piece at a time. It needed repairing. Sun, sand and general use had left it a little worse for wear. She wasn't thinking particularly about that though as she gazed down the length of her left arm. Her muscles ached and she noted that the scars - marks that had been set upon her in Fatale's name for her husband - were pink again. As if newly healed. Even the ragged mark across her palm into her wrist and forearm was pink.
Closing her eyes, she shifted her attention beyond such things. All the events that had occurred after his death had lead her almost inevitably back to...him. Instead, she summoned a servant to take her armor, another to draw a bath and then she set herself to the task of quill upon parchment.
The scritch of her work was strangely relaxing as her message came forth, of particular importance but not so necessary that it need be sent immediately, so she folded the vellum with care and left it to be found before egressing to the bathing room that had been built to exquisite specification off of the master chamber - drawn by the lavender-scented water and the promise of clean flesh.
She knew sleep would come after, a prospect that now left her uneasy but could not be circumvented.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Stygian Descent - The Last Trek (IV)
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[ 93] Nymaya: Stygian Descent - The Last Trek (IV)
Sun Apr 4 01:12:19 2010
To: All Crelius Reklah ( story chain ) Imm Necrucifer RP Religion
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She was not aware as she was simultaneously flung and pulled down, down toward a tiny speck of crimson that grew at an alarmingly fast rate. The flames of the Inferno below - a blighted realm of fire - rose up to sear her and as she fell, the hood of her cloak drew back.
Silver hair flowing around her, she regained consciousness as the sky opened up. Suffocating in the hellish conditions, her mind refusing to make any sense of the horrors she was seeing in the sky, in the air, on the ground...she gripped the periapt in desperation.
Call him, elf.
She opened her mouth, needing to take in a breath and in the same moment, her body struck something. A demonic screech filled her world and she lost her grasp on consciousness again. It was a second incorporeal impact, directly against her sternum, that forced her back. Her world filled with crimson, a corruption that stole every aspect of who and what she was.
Breath was compelled back into her lungs and as the entity departed, the name came forth in a rush.
She kept a hold of her senses long enough to see ebony flame erupt around her. To feel its protection cool her, to take in an acidic, metallic tasting breath and then - nothing.
She drifted in an accursed oblivion, for an eternity and more it felt. She would have been happy to stay there, it was better than the hell that awaited beyond.
"Awaken, Nymaya"
The command prompted her aching eyes to open and she found herself lying upon a mound before a series of twisted arches. Each construct was made of varying material, be it flesh and innards or pure gold. She was panting, short and terribly wet breaths. Blood colored her nearly gray-blue lips and trailed down her chin. She didn't want to think any further about any of it as she pushed her excruciated body up from the ashen ground. She even managed to subdue a portion of the alarming realization that she was surrounded on the outset of the arches by all manner of fiends.
"You should have called me sooner." She was rebuked by the ethereal voice and, having not the strength to glare at him, she turned her pained gaze upon the azure image of Crelius. "But you have done better than I thought you would."
She couldn't answer but she felt a deeper reserve of strength inundate her...just in time to watch the form of Reklah fall through an arch of such soul-sucking black that to look upon it was to experience true and utter hopelessness.
He hit the ground with such force that it was a wonder to see his armored chest rise and fall with life. She thought that her first sight of him would prompt her to linger mindlessly but she was moving in the same instance of his appearance.
"Guide him." Crelius ordered. "The way out is not far."
And, kneeling beside the man she had risked everything to free, she lifted one of his arms over her own damaged shoulders. It was only with a forceful invocation of her Lord's name that she got him to his feet, but upon speaking the mere word, she felt her spirit pulse with the power it inspired - and the last trek began.
[ 93] Nymaya: Stygian Descent - The Last Trek (IV)
Sun Apr 4 01:12:19 2010
To: All Crelius Reklah ( story chain ) Imm Necrucifer RP Religion
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She was not aware as she was simultaneously flung and pulled down, down toward a tiny speck of crimson that grew at an alarmingly fast rate. The flames of the Inferno below - a blighted realm of fire - rose up to sear her and as she fell, the hood of her cloak drew back.
Silver hair flowing around her, she regained consciousness as the sky opened up. Suffocating in the hellish conditions, her mind refusing to make any sense of the horrors she was seeing in the sky, in the air, on the ground...she gripped the periapt in desperation.
Call him, elf.
She opened her mouth, needing to take in a breath and in the same moment, her body struck something. A demonic screech filled her world and she lost her grasp on consciousness again. It was a second incorporeal impact, directly against her sternum, that forced her back. Her world filled with crimson, a corruption that stole every aspect of who and what she was.
Breath was compelled back into her lungs and as the entity departed, the name came forth in a rush.
She kept a hold of her senses long enough to see ebony flame erupt around her. To feel its protection cool her, to take in an acidic, metallic tasting breath and then - nothing.
She drifted in an accursed oblivion, for an eternity and more it felt. She would have been happy to stay there, it was better than the hell that awaited beyond.
"Awaken, Nymaya"
The command prompted her aching eyes to open and she found herself lying upon a mound before a series of twisted arches. Each construct was made of varying material, be it flesh and innards or pure gold. She was panting, short and terribly wet breaths. Blood colored her nearly gray-blue lips and trailed down her chin. She didn't want to think any further about any of it as she pushed her excruciated body up from the ashen ground. She even managed to subdue a portion of the alarming realization that she was surrounded on the outset of the arches by all manner of fiends.
"You should have called me sooner." She was rebuked by the ethereal voice and, having not the strength to glare at him, she turned her pained gaze upon the azure image of Crelius. "But you have done better than I thought you would."
She couldn't answer but she felt a deeper reserve of strength inundate her...just in time to watch the form of Reklah fall through an arch of such soul-sucking black that to look upon it was to experience true and utter hopelessness.
He hit the ground with such force that it was a wonder to see his armored chest rise and fall with life. She thought that her first sight of him would prompt her to linger mindlessly but she was moving in the same instance of his appearance.
"Guide him." Crelius ordered. "The way out is not far."
And, kneeling beside the man she had risked everything to free, she lifted one of his arms over her own damaged shoulders. It was only with a forceful invocation of her Lord's name that she got him to his feet, but upon speaking the mere word, she felt her spirit pulse with the power it inspired - and the last trek began.
Stygian Descent (III)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[ 92] Nymaya: Stygian Descent (III)
Sat Apr 3 16:26:00 2010
To: All Crelius Reklah ( story chain ) Imm Necrucifer RP Religion
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her body was spiraling through the dark again, her mind trapped within a vortex of vertigo and black foreboding. Panic began to eat at the edges of everything. Her lungs struggled against the crushing sensation while she was enveloped in the swirling perfection of black, hellish nothing.
The fluctuation of heat and cold were such as she descended now that no part of her was spared the experience of thousands of unending, piercing needle points. She could feel her grasp of sanity tearing with the torment and it was in this she found some small saving grace - for the madness felt familiar in an alien landscape of constant shadow.
---
Ravaged - physically, mentally and spiritually - she could only bow beneath the exceptional weight. The spark of life was slender, held aloft only by a thin shadowy tendril of faith and pure stubborn drive.
Her hand flexed around the periapt that hung down from her throat and through touch alone, she felt its baleful will. A faint pulse of malevolent urging followed, filling her head with a flash of crimson pain. It seemed that even Uvall was bound from this place.
She had no more strength to think beyond the immediate and, with a breath that rasped terribly in her chest, she forced herself up...
...to behold a sight that took that breath back from her.
It seemed as if the whole of Algoron she could see had been reshaped. The promontory she stood upon overlooked the vast spread of a forest she recognized, if only by its shape upon the blasted land now. The Vallenwood was burned to ash and all the land she could see near it looked to be in a similar disrupted state.
An agony, a loss, unlike any other gripped her chest and for a moment she wondered if it would kill her. Even in exile a part of her had been bound to this place - to her origin...
"There is no more hope for you." The voice was dark, serious but tinged with a perpetual hint of superiority. Keylan. "Why cling to what has been lost for eternity?"
So convincing. The brush of magic, of a will that was both cunning and powerful, tempted her.
"Leave off, Keylan." She breathed, still trying to force her mind through the painful rejection of what was clearly before her. His chuckle was soft but belittling.
"Ah, I suppose that's what I always liked about you, sister." He went on with amusement. "Dedicated and stubborn to a fault." -his pause was long and heavy while it lasted- "Come now, Nymaya. I don't want to have to kill you. Malachive is willing to overlook your sins."
A spike of cold alarm raced down her spine and she turned slowly to gaze upon her half-brother. He looked emaciated, gray and hollow but there was power radiating around him. He held out his hand. "Come. Your purpose doesn't have to end here. Reklah awaits."
She never got a chance to answer as a second spike of crimson pain filled her head at the sound of his name. Her knees hit the ground as she bent over it, aware that something had changed. A series of pure demonic screams barreled into her maybe seconds after, enraged, and she felt herself ripped from the Border realm.
(cont.)
[ 92] Nymaya: Stygian Descent (III)
Sat Apr 3 16:26:00 2010
To: All Crelius Reklah ( story chain ) Imm Necrucifer RP Religion
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her body was spiraling through the dark again, her mind trapped within a vortex of vertigo and black foreboding. Panic began to eat at the edges of everything. Her lungs struggled against the crushing sensation while she was enveloped in the swirling perfection of black, hellish nothing.
The fluctuation of heat and cold were such as she descended now that no part of her was spared the experience of thousands of unending, piercing needle points. She could feel her grasp of sanity tearing with the torment and it was in this she found some small saving grace - for the madness felt familiar in an alien landscape of constant shadow.
---
Ravaged - physically, mentally and spiritually - she could only bow beneath the exceptional weight. The spark of life was slender, held aloft only by a thin shadowy tendril of faith and pure stubborn drive.
Her hand flexed around the periapt that hung down from her throat and through touch alone, she felt its baleful will. A faint pulse of malevolent urging followed, filling her head with a flash of crimson pain. It seemed that even Uvall was bound from this place.
She had no more strength to think beyond the immediate and, with a breath that rasped terribly in her chest, she forced herself up...
...to behold a sight that took that breath back from her.
It seemed as if the whole of Algoron she could see had been reshaped. The promontory she stood upon overlooked the vast spread of a forest she recognized, if only by its shape upon the blasted land now. The Vallenwood was burned to ash and all the land she could see near it looked to be in a similar disrupted state.
An agony, a loss, unlike any other gripped her chest and for a moment she wondered if it would kill her. Even in exile a part of her had been bound to this place - to her origin...
"There is no more hope for you." The voice was dark, serious but tinged with a perpetual hint of superiority. Keylan. "Why cling to what has been lost for eternity?"
So convincing. The brush of magic, of a will that was both cunning and powerful, tempted her.
"Leave off, Keylan." She breathed, still trying to force her mind through the painful rejection of what was clearly before her. His chuckle was soft but belittling.
"Ah, I suppose that's what I always liked about you, sister." He went on with amusement. "Dedicated and stubborn to a fault." -his pause was long and heavy while it lasted- "Come now, Nymaya. I don't want to have to kill you. Malachive is willing to overlook your sins."
A spike of cold alarm raced down her spine and she turned slowly to gaze upon her half-brother. He looked emaciated, gray and hollow but there was power radiating around him. He held out his hand. "Come. Your purpose doesn't have to end here. Reklah awaits."
She never got a chance to answer as a second spike of crimson pain filled her head at the sound of his name. Her knees hit the ground as she bent over it, aware that something had changed. A series of pure demonic screams barreled into her maybe seconds after, enraged, and she felt herself ripped from the Border realm.
(cont.)
Stygian Descent (II)
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[ 89] Nymaya: Stygian Descent (II)
Sat Apr 3 00:52:32 2010
To: All Crelius Reklah ( story chain ) Imm Necrucifer RP Religion
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Nymaya"
The voice was deceptively friendly and it struck a nerve. Icy hatred and a ripple of pure dread washed over her. Confusion followed on its heels, cooling the previous rush of emotion and her eyes opened upon a surreal scene. A ghostly, azure-wrapped image of Verminasia spread out before her beneath an obsidian sky. She stood in a garden of translucent flowers, vibrant for all it lacked the purity of life.
...and across from her, face shrouded in shadows, stood the slight form of a dark elven Priestess.
Nymaya's hands fisted slowly as recognition took hold, the sound of her leather gloves stretching over knuckles gone white with a wash of ancient bitter rage, loud in the unnatural stillness. The figure smiled gently, calm and somber in the face of black vehemence.
"There is nothing to stop me from killing you this time." Nymaya whispered, her tone filled with all the animosity that she had once been incapable of channeling. She reveled in the rage as the distinct ring of her long, slender blade left its sheath followed shortly by the harsh, resonant grind of the darkened sword she carried across her back.
"That won't return your son to you. " She proclaimed and though a dismal aura permeated the Devionite, a slow, devious curve of her lips shone through the shadows.
Nymaya converged then upon the woman and, wrapped in icy, terrible conviction she drove her blades forward - only to have them clang off the solid presence of two opposing daggers.
"You will have to go through him to get to me." The Priestess intoned, as if they had been discussing pleasantries. "Will you kill your own son to sate your misplaced hatred?"
Nymaya stepped back at the goad, a swell of trepidation stilling the need to kill momentarily, and looked upon the face of a grown half elf. Her mind would have refused to believe it - if the unmistakable flames above his left brow had been anything but what they were.
"You...said he was still-born" She breathed in disbelief - needing to disbelieve.
"I lied."
A crystal peal of delighted laughter rang throughout the ghostly realm, stirring the azure mists. The half elven man continued to stand protectively before the Devionite. As solid as a highlander, as graceful as an elf of the Vallenwood.
And the sudden sound of a blade slamming home through flesh, muscle and bone shook the very fabric of the realm moments later. The half elf slumped, eyes wide as he stared at the woman who had birthed him but had never had a chance to know him.
Nymaya stared at the Priestess over the body, blood dripping off the tip of the blade that had impaled her son's heart, and felt an absolute nothing. Emptiness consumed the raw emotion, consumed her.
The dark elf grinned benignly as Nymaya tipped her blade down further to allow the body to slip off and watched without fear as the bloodied sword approached.
"You have earned the reward of your convictions." And her smile was beatific as the darkened blade arced up in an underhanded swing, cutting through the air with an audible sound. "But you will never escape what has been created in you, exile."
The blade struck the elf's neck then and tore through...mist. The world began to dissolve around her almost in the same instant and with the sound of many black wings beating the air, darkness took her.
[ 89] Nymaya: Stygian Descent (II)
Sat Apr 3 00:52:32 2010
To: All Crelius Reklah ( story chain ) Imm Necrucifer RP Religion
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Nymaya"
The voice was deceptively friendly and it struck a nerve. Icy hatred and a ripple of pure dread washed over her. Confusion followed on its heels, cooling the previous rush of emotion and her eyes opened upon a surreal scene. A ghostly, azure-wrapped image of Verminasia spread out before her beneath an obsidian sky. She stood in a garden of translucent flowers, vibrant for all it lacked the purity of life.
...and across from her, face shrouded in shadows, stood the slight form of a dark elven Priestess.
Nymaya's hands fisted slowly as recognition took hold, the sound of her leather gloves stretching over knuckles gone white with a wash of ancient bitter rage, loud in the unnatural stillness. The figure smiled gently, calm and somber in the face of black vehemence.
"There is nothing to stop me from killing you this time." Nymaya whispered, her tone filled with all the animosity that she had once been incapable of channeling. She reveled in the rage as the distinct ring of her long, slender blade left its sheath followed shortly by the harsh, resonant grind of the darkened sword she carried across her back.
"That won't return your son to you. " She proclaimed and though a dismal aura permeated the Devionite, a slow, devious curve of her lips shone through the shadows.
Nymaya converged then upon the woman and, wrapped in icy, terrible conviction she drove her blades forward - only to have them clang off the solid presence of two opposing daggers.
"You will have to go through him to get to me." The Priestess intoned, as if they had been discussing pleasantries. "Will you kill your own son to sate your misplaced hatred?"
Nymaya stepped back at the goad, a swell of trepidation stilling the need to kill momentarily, and looked upon the face of a grown half elf. Her mind would have refused to believe it - if the unmistakable flames above his left brow had been anything but what they were.
"You...said he was still-born" She breathed in disbelief - needing to disbelieve.
"I lied."
A crystal peal of delighted laughter rang throughout the ghostly realm, stirring the azure mists. The half elven man continued to stand protectively before the Devionite. As solid as a highlander, as graceful as an elf of the Vallenwood.
And the sudden sound of a blade slamming home through flesh, muscle and bone shook the very fabric of the realm moments later. The half elf slumped, eyes wide as he stared at the woman who had birthed him but had never had a chance to know him.
Nymaya stared at the Priestess over the body, blood dripping off the tip of the blade that had impaled her son's heart, and felt an absolute nothing. Emptiness consumed the raw emotion, consumed her.
The dark elf grinned benignly as Nymaya tipped her blade down further to allow the body to slip off and watched without fear as the bloodied sword approached.
"You have earned the reward of your convictions." And her smile was beatific as the darkened blade arced up in an underhanded swing, cutting through the air with an audible sound. "But you will never escape what has been created in you, exile."
The blade struck the elf's neck then and tore through...mist. The world began to dissolve around her almost in the same instant and with the sound of many black wings beating the air, darkness took her.
Stygian Descent (I)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[ 81] Nymaya: Stygian Descent (I)
Fri Apr 2 13:58:46 2010
To: All Crelius Reklah ( story chain ) Imm Necrucifer RP Religion
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Looking down into the nearly viscous black of the yawning pit before her, she felt a calm descend. She had undergone the full gamut of unease, dread and shock while watching the venerable Shadowknight build up to this moment. Now, there was no more time for second guessing or fearful indecision.
She would be slain if she turned away, she would die if she failed any of the awaiting trials.
She had been trained mercilessly to face death, had already tasted it in various forms, and not a modicum of those experiences failed her now as she sent a silent but terribly fervent prayer to Necrucifer. But she was wise enough to know that little of what she had accomplished in life would do her much good down there.
Amber light, volcanic heat and the oppressive, latent malevolence of the chamber set heavily upon her as the decision solidified within her soul and she looked up to meet Crelius' weeping azure gaze through his hooded countenance.
He remained silent, wrapped in his forbidding power. He'd said all he needed to say.
The dream arose within her mind's eye as she reached back to pull her hood over her long silver hair and with it, a tainted essence so corrupt and devastating, she knew it could consume her.
Jump, elfling.
And, aware she managed a personally impressive display of will and faith, she dove over the edge of the void without hesitation...
...and fell.
---
All sense of time and direction left her.
The world she had known became no more, blasted into nothingness by the purity of the dark that swept past her in unfathomable leagues. It was so complete - so terribly complete...
She felt her displacement keenly, the sound of her cloak snapping behind almost as deafening as the black that breathed around her, as if she were plummeting down the throat of a monstrous entity. With the wind whistling past her ears, locking her in a static state, she became aware of a gleeful pulse of fiendish delight shortly before the Stygian deep converged upon her mind.
(cont.)
[ 81] Nymaya: Stygian Descent (I)
Fri Apr 2 13:58:46 2010
To: All Crelius Reklah ( story chain ) Imm Necrucifer RP Religion
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Looking down into the nearly viscous black of the yawning pit before her, she felt a calm descend. She had undergone the full gamut of unease, dread and shock while watching the venerable Shadowknight build up to this moment. Now, there was no more time for second guessing or fearful indecision.
She would be slain if she turned away, she would die if she failed any of the awaiting trials.
She had been trained mercilessly to face death, had already tasted it in various forms, and not a modicum of those experiences failed her now as she sent a silent but terribly fervent prayer to Necrucifer. But she was wise enough to know that little of what she had accomplished in life would do her much good down there.
Amber light, volcanic heat and the oppressive, latent malevolence of the chamber set heavily upon her as the decision solidified within her soul and she looked up to meet Crelius' weeping azure gaze through his hooded countenance.
He remained silent, wrapped in his forbidding power. He'd said all he needed to say.
The dream arose within her mind's eye as she reached back to pull her hood over her long silver hair and with it, a tainted essence so corrupt and devastating, she knew it could consume her.
Jump, elfling.
And, aware she managed a personally impressive display of will and faith, she dove over the edge of the void without hesitation...
...and fell.
---
All sense of time and direction left her.
The world she had known became no more, blasted into nothingness by the purity of the dark that swept past her in unfathomable leagues. It was so complete - so terribly complete...
She felt her displacement keenly, the sound of her cloak snapping behind almost as deafening as the black that breathed around her, as if she were plummeting down the throat of a monstrous entity. With the wind whistling past her ears, locking her in a static state, she became aware of a gleeful pulse of fiendish delight shortly before the Stygian deep converged upon her mind.
(cont.)
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
The Gods Have Mercy (cont.)
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[158] Nymaya: The Gods Have Mercy (cont.)
Wed Mar 31 16:35:10 2010
To: Reklah Crelius
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The path to Storm Keep was well traveled and even though the hour was late when she approached, she was met by no less than a three man guard.
The towering, glossy black Keep was as imposing as ever and flanked by the armored men, she probably should have felt a certain degree of trepidation but she could not. Blood still adorned her throat, having dried and crusted and she could feel it upon her left arm. That was all the incentive she really needed to bypass any feeble emotional hindering.
A bitter desert night wind snapped the pennants of the Keep, blew fine grains of sand against unprotected flesh and whipped at the torch fire that dotted the battlements.
She was here to see the Lord Atennim and when the guards did not turn her away, she presumed he was indeed within.
Time passed strangely for her as she waited, feeling caught between the dream and the depth of what she was about to do. She had been committed for a long time though, knowing only that it felt correct. The proper direction. If indeed the dream was as real as it felt and the oily, tainted sense that was still lingering told the true tale of this new directive, then she'd been right all along.
She was certain that the man she currently awaited could tell her true.
The minutes ticked by and the world grew darker about her sight. She never knew she swayed and nearly fell, or that her head arched back as the same image the demon set upon her in the dream re-assaulted her already taxed senses.
She was panting through the residual ache when the world returned, aware abruptly that one of the soldiers who had been flanking her had a gauntleted hand wrapped around her upper arm to keep her steady. She was able to note the odd looks each man gave her before another caught her attention.
Crelius was there suddenly, as if he'd bled from the very shadows, and after a breathless moment of silent staring he beckoned her with a turn of his head.
The hand grasping her arm released and then she was moving, feeling contained still within the dream but knowing without that it was so very much more.
[158] Nymaya: The Gods Have Mercy (cont.)
Wed Mar 31 16:35:10 2010
To: Reklah Crelius
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The path to Storm Keep was well traveled and even though the hour was late when she approached, she was met by no less than a three man guard.
The towering, glossy black Keep was as imposing as ever and flanked by the armored men, she probably should have felt a certain degree of trepidation but she could not. Blood still adorned her throat, having dried and crusted and she could feel it upon her left arm. That was all the incentive she really needed to bypass any feeble emotional hindering.
A bitter desert night wind snapped the pennants of the Keep, blew fine grains of sand against unprotected flesh and whipped at the torch fire that dotted the battlements.
She was here to see the Lord Atennim and when the guards did not turn her away, she presumed he was indeed within.
Time passed strangely for her as she waited, feeling caught between the dream and the depth of what she was about to do. She had been committed for a long time though, knowing only that it felt correct. The proper direction. If indeed the dream was as real as it felt and the oily, tainted sense that was still lingering told the true tale of this new directive, then she'd been right all along.
She was certain that the man she currently awaited could tell her true.
The minutes ticked by and the world grew darker about her sight. She never knew she swayed and nearly fell, or that her head arched back as the same image the demon set upon her in the dream re-assaulted her already taxed senses.
She was panting through the residual ache when the world returned, aware abruptly that one of the soldiers who had been flanking her had a gauntleted hand wrapped around her upper arm to keep her steady. She was able to note the odd looks each man gave her before another caught her attention.
Crelius was there suddenly, as if he'd bled from the very shadows, and after a breathless moment of silent staring he beckoned her with a turn of his head.
The hand grasping her arm released and then she was moving, feeling contained still within the dream but knowing without that it was so very much more.
Desert Blossoms (Excerpt)
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[152] Nymaya: Desert Blossoms (Excerpt)
Tue Mar 30 14:45:18 2010
To: Shadow New_Thalos Dae'ni Rochford ( Imm RP Necrucifer ) All
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scent of desert blossoms was gentle, casting a sweet overtone to the dry smell of the sands that permeated everything. With the sun set casting the sky in vibrant shades of red, orange and yellows off to the west, Nymaya found herself squinting at the street that glimmered as if thousands of jewels had been crushed into the ground.
The street was a testament to the harsh and natural beauty of the desert and New Thalos but these thoughts were not prevalent as she crouched down to study the ground. She was not here to take in the sights.
A crease touched her brow and she reached down to brush at the sands. A single crushed piece of cobblestone stood out. It was broken in an odd pattern and through the middle of the stone itself. While it might not have stood out to anyone, she had reason to mark the oddities she found among the residential passes.
It didn't tell her enough unfortunately and brushing her hands together to rid her gloves of the sand, she lifted her gaze to study the surroundings. The soft peal of children playing nearby came to her but they were not in sight. The houses were lush, expensive manors with plenty of space between them dotted with sprawling palm trees.
In as many days since she had received the missive concerning Lady Atennim, she'd spent much of her free time tracking the paths of these streets, searching for anything. Her presence had been cause for notice amongst some of the inhabitants, who watched with uncertain apprehension as the Waliullah prowled, but otherwise each day passed without event.
The streets remained quiet and the missing Atennim remained...missing.
It leant a measure of trepidation to Nymaya's thought on the whole matter. She was a good tracker. She'd been in the business for many, many years. The desert was a new ground for her but she'd been amongst it long enough now to learn various useful tricks.
With a shake of her head she stood up slowly and paused, her eyes closing upon a flash of pain. Touching a hand lightly to her heart was the only other outward sign she gave before she shook the effects off and proceeded on her way.
[152] Nymaya: Desert Blossoms (Excerpt)
Tue Mar 30 14:45:18 2010
To: Shadow New_Thalos Dae'ni Rochford ( Imm RP Necrucifer ) All
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scent of desert blossoms was gentle, casting a sweet overtone to the dry smell of the sands that permeated everything. With the sun set casting the sky in vibrant shades of red, orange and yellows off to the west, Nymaya found herself squinting at the street that glimmered as if thousands of jewels had been crushed into the ground.
The street was a testament to the harsh and natural beauty of the desert and New Thalos but these thoughts were not prevalent as she crouched down to study the ground. She was not here to take in the sights.
A crease touched her brow and she reached down to brush at the sands. A single crushed piece of cobblestone stood out. It was broken in an odd pattern and through the middle of the stone itself. While it might not have stood out to anyone, she had reason to mark the oddities she found among the residential passes.
It didn't tell her enough unfortunately and brushing her hands together to rid her gloves of the sand, she lifted her gaze to study the surroundings. The soft peal of children playing nearby came to her but they were not in sight. The houses were lush, expensive manors with plenty of space between them dotted with sprawling palm trees.
In as many days since she had received the missive concerning Lady Atennim, she'd spent much of her free time tracking the paths of these streets, searching for anything. Her presence had been cause for notice amongst some of the inhabitants, who watched with uncertain apprehension as the Waliullah prowled, but otherwise each day passed without event.
The streets remained quiet and the missing Atennim remained...missing.
It leant a measure of trepidation to Nymaya's thought on the whole matter. She was a good tracker. She'd been in the business for many, many years. The desert was a new ground for her but she'd been amongst it long enough now to learn various useful tricks.
With a shake of her head she stood up slowly and paused, her eyes closing upon a flash of pain. Touching a hand lightly to her heart was the only other outward sign she gave before she shook the effects off and proceeded on her way.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Infernal Directive (II)
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[152] Nymaya: Prologue - Infernal Directive
Sun Mar 14 22:29:00 2010
To: all Crelius ( story line ) imm Necrucifer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She burned again, as never before.
She saw herself upon a plain cot that served as a bed, held deep within a mountain cavern, her delusional and fevered cries resounding even in that dark place.
Your impact upon this tapestry was not to end so soon, I'm afraid.
"I did not ask...for your aid." She gasped through the fiery pain that had not diminished, even though she had returned to the altar.
A small, subsidiary issue. And it waved her concern away. Your soul
belongs to the Abyss now and I decided to intercede.
Against the weakness infusing her she clenched her fists but did not object.
"What do you want." The question was asked with considerable calm.
I want you to continue your quest. It remarked with infuriating evasiveness though she knew it was playing with her.
Instead of answering, she opened her eyes - and was beset with a sudden wash of terror. Its monstrous visage was before her; empty black eyes, grinning teeth and every nightmare that had ever afflicted her mind.
Its next words were not playful as they echoed down through to her very soul, ringing true and setting into motion a new directive.
I have seen a future that I dislike greatly and the one I wish to thwart will not expect this.
Her ears rang at the sound of the words and she half imagined they began to bleed. What happened next though tore a sharp cry from her that ended as abruptly as it started when the shadow passed directly through her - leaving behind an image that etched itself into her mind.
Someone awaits you in the Abyss. The whispery sound of the wind had returned, though it was a scream now and she knew who voiced it.
Should you fail, know that your eternal tormentor's name is Uvall and I will relish every instance of your agony.
She awoke to the sound of the wind whistling outside the eaves but in it, she detected a lingering ominous laughter.
Her heart beating a hard staccato, she slipped from bed to pad to the water basin but stopped abruptly when she saw her reflection. Ashen white made the blood across her throat stand out vividly. She didn't need to see the scars along her left arm to know they had bled as well.
Centuries of patience were set aside then as she dressed quickly and left to find Crelius. She couldn't wait any longer.
|end|
[152] Nymaya: Prologue - Infernal Directive
Sun Mar 14 22:29:00 2010
To: all Crelius ( story line ) imm Necrucifer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She burned again, as never before.
She saw herself upon a plain cot that served as a bed, held deep within a mountain cavern, her delusional and fevered cries resounding even in that dark place.
Your impact upon this tapestry was not to end so soon, I'm afraid.
"I did not ask...for your aid." She gasped through the fiery pain that had not diminished, even though she had returned to the altar.
A small, subsidiary issue. And it waved her concern away. Your soul
belongs to the Abyss now and I decided to intercede.
Against the weakness infusing her she clenched her fists but did not object.
"What do you want." The question was asked with considerable calm.
I want you to continue your quest. It remarked with infuriating evasiveness though she knew it was playing with her.
Instead of answering, she opened her eyes - and was beset with a sudden wash of terror. Its monstrous visage was before her; empty black eyes, grinning teeth and every nightmare that had ever afflicted her mind.
Its next words were not playful as they echoed down through to her very soul, ringing true and setting into motion a new directive.
I have seen a future that I dislike greatly and the one I wish to thwart will not expect this.
Her ears rang at the sound of the words and she half imagined they began to bleed. What happened next though tore a sharp cry from her that ended as abruptly as it started when the shadow passed directly through her - leaving behind an image that etched itself into her mind.
Someone awaits you in the Abyss. The whispery sound of the wind had returned, though it was a scream now and she knew who voiced it.
Should you fail, know that your eternal tormentor's name is Uvall and I will relish every instance of your agony.
---
She awoke to the sound of the wind whistling outside the eaves but in it, she detected a lingering ominous laughter.
Her heart beating a hard staccato, she slipped from bed to pad to the water basin but stopped abruptly when she saw her reflection. Ashen white made the blood across her throat stand out vividly. She didn't need to see the scars along her left arm to know they had bled as well.
Centuries of patience were set aside then as she dressed quickly and left to find Crelius. She couldn't wait any longer.
|end|
Infernal Directive (I)
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[151] Nymaya: Prologue - Infernal Directive
Sun Mar 14 22:17:51 2010
To: all Crelius ( story line ) imm Necrucifer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was in the wind.
The whisper that brushed through her hair, that soothed her senses and set the disquiet at deceptive ease. It was only then that she realized - she could hear nothing but that whisper.
The wind that had been gentle, carrying her through the depths of meditation and prayer, became something else. Something that resembled a thousand voices jumbled into one incoherent sound. She was becoming familiar with the sound of dissonance in its various forms.
She tilted her head back to gaze into the roiling shadows above. They moved with a live essence, as if someone had captured hundreds of uneasy souls and bound them above the altar.
You will join them one day
The dulcet tone moved through her like a shadow. It had an essence of its own and it recognized her. She was certain that she should have feared it, but she could not.
But you know that now. Its what you wanted, isn't it.
Not a question - a statement. She wasn't surprised.
Her limbs felt as light as feathers, it was hard to focus but centuries of merciless training of body and mind worked in her favor.
"Have you come to state the obvious" Her own whisper seemed to echo hollow in the dark of the church. "Or shall I call you Curious."
I come to collect a debt. It responded, failing to rise to her baited words.
A strange touch, emaciated fingers perhaps, trailed a tainted caress across the scar upon her throat and down her left arm, clearly outlining the individual scars that marred her. Her blue eyes shut as she fought back a shudder of revulsion.
While the cat is away, the devils will play
The whisper was so close to her ear that she might have jerked but she was bound before the shadows. A deep, sinuous laugh rolled over her then, forcing the shudder she had suppressed to slither up her spine. The emaciated touch settled upon her shoulders then, burning, and as the first serpentine tendrils of fear began to arise in her she realized - she was back in the Sands of Sorrow.
Fallen upon the ground, she gazed down upon her still form and saw for the first time just how close she had come to the mountains. She also saw what arose behind her and all the questions that had begun to plague her since that moment, all the things she could not remember, came back.
cont.
[151] Nymaya: Prologue - Infernal Directive
Sun Mar 14 22:17:51 2010
To: all Crelius ( story line ) imm Necrucifer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was in the wind.
The whisper that brushed through her hair, that soothed her senses and set the disquiet at deceptive ease. It was only then that she realized - she could hear nothing but that whisper.
The wind that had been gentle, carrying her through the depths of meditation and prayer, became something else. Something that resembled a thousand voices jumbled into one incoherent sound. She was becoming familiar with the sound of dissonance in its various forms.
She tilted her head back to gaze into the roiling shadows above. They moved with a live essence, as if someone had captured hundreds of uneasy souls and bound them above the altar.
You will join them one day
The dulcet tone moved through her like a shadow. It had an essence of its own and it recognized her. She was certain that she should have feared it, but she could not.
But you know that now. Its what you wanted, isn't it.
Not a question - a statement. She wasn't surprised.
Her limbs felt as light as feathers, it was hard to focus but centuries of merciless training of body and mind worked in her favor.
"Have you come to state the obvious" Her own whisper seemed to echo hollow in the dark of the church. "Or shall I call you Curious."
I come to collect a debt. It responded, failing to rise to her baited words.
A strange touch, emaciated fingers perhaps, trailed a tainted caress across the scar upon her throat and down her left arm, clearly outlining the individual scars that marred her. Her blue eyes shut as she fought back a shudder of revulsion.
While the cat is away, the devils will play
The whisper was so close to her ear that she might have jerked but she was bound before the shadows. A deep, sinuous laugh rolled over her then, forcing the shudder she had suppressed to slither up her spine. The emaciated touch settled upon her shoulders then, burning, and as the first serpentine tendrils of fear began to arise in her she realized - she was back in the Sands of Sorrow.
Fallen upon the ground, she gazed down upon her still form and saw for the first time just how close she had come to the mountains. She also saw what arose behind her and all the questions that had begun to plague her since that moment, all the things she could not remember, came back.
cont.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Starless Portent [II]
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[128] Nymaya: Starless Portent
Fri Mar 5 02:49:31 2010
To: RP New_Thalos All ( Crelius Anastormia ) Imm Necrucifer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What had been no more than an insubstantial sense, more a "knowing" in her gut, became real before her and without preamble, she found a steel grip around her own throat before she felt her back impact the side of a wooden stall.
It might have been a flesh and blood creature or it might have been something else entirely but an instant's warning flashed through her and she held her hostile intentions at bay.
You do not yet understand that which you seek. It whispered, leaving a sense of curiosity and malice in the air between them.
Trying to study it through the deep shadows of her hood produced nothing and having had enough manhandling, she slashed out at it. Surprisingly, it retreated, appearing no more than a hunched figure in the dark.
You may find what you desire, though terror...will be your gift, elf. It breathed, and then; If you survive.
Dagger still to hand, she let herself lean against the solid stone wall while her free hand rubbed at her neck. The creature - whatever it was - faded into the shadows after its last mocking pronouncement and it was then she heard the thumping of mailed feet coming toward her. The sound redirected her focus and she looked up to see two harbor guards approaching quickly.
"Waliullah." The first to her said as she straightened, his eyes flicking to the bloodied blade in her hand and then to the body. "We heard a cry. Is all well?"
Nymaya glanced from the guard to the body lying still and cold now upon the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood. Crouching down, she wiped her blade clean upon the clothing of the would-have-been thief and nodded.
"I can handle myself, harbor guard." She said, and not as unkindly as a part of her wanted to. "But yes, all is well enough."
"Even a Wali should not wander alone through..." The second spoke though he trailed off at cold blue glance.
She didn't need to say more and she didn't intend to as she ended the interaction with a curt inclination of her head, sheathed her daggers and drew the hood of her cloak back over her brow. She left the two guards to the unwholesome business of disposing of the body while she exited the alley, her mind strangely calm in the wake of her encounter.
There was a sense of the familiar in what had happened this night, as if she'd lived through the moment before, and while the warning was not lost on her - it was the message behind the visit that spoke loudest. It was easy to assume she was on the right track even though it was clearly leading her down a road more terrible than any she had yet tread.
She almost found herself welcoming the challenge as it gave greater credence to the belief she held in her incoherent dreams, her blind striving and her need to find...what she was looking for.
She took a small measure of certainty from the belief that if she did, in fact, manage to survive what she was striving toward she would have something new to rival the edge of the dissonance that ran tainted through her soul. And if not - well, there weren't many left who would mourn the remnant and she doubted any of her mortal problems would follow through her demise.
[128] Nymaya: Starless Portent
Fri Mar 5 02:49:31 2010
To: RP New_Thalos All ( Crelius Anastormia ) Imm Necrucifer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What had been no more than an insubstantial sense, more a "knowing" in her gut, became real before her and without preamble, she found a steel grip around her own throat before she felt her back impact the side of a wooden stall.
It might have been a flesh and blood creature or it might have been something else entirely but an instant's warning flashed through her and she held her hostile intentions at bay.
You do not yet understand that which you seek. It whispered, leaving a sense of curiosity and malice in the air between them.
Trying to study it through the deep shadows of her hood produced nothing and having had enough manhandling, she slashed out at it. Surprisingly, it retreated, appearing no more than a hunched figure in the dark.
You may find what you desire, though terror...will be your gift, elf. It breathed, and then; If you survive.
Dagger still to hand, she let herself lean against the solid stone wall while her free hand rubbed at her neck. The creature - whatever it was - faded into the shadows after its last mocking pronouncement and it was then she heard the thumping of mailed feet coming toward her. The sound redirected her focus and she looked up to see two harbor guards approaching quickly.
"Waliullah." The first to her said as she straightened, his eyes flicking to the bloodied blade in her hand and then to the body. "We heard a cry. Is all well?"
Nymaya glanced from the guard to the body lying still and cold now upon the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood. Crouching down, she wiped her blade clean upon the clothing of the would-have-been thief and nodded.
"I can handle myself, harbor guard." She said, and not as unkindly as a part of her wanted to. "But yes, all is well enough."
"Even a Wali should not wander alone through..." The second spoke though he trailed off at cold blue glance.
She didn't need to say more and she didn't intend to as she ended the interaction with a curt inclination of her head, sheathed her daggers and drew the hood of her cloak back over her brow. She left the two guards to the unwholesome business of disposing of the body while she exited the alley, her mind strangely calm in the wake of her encounter.
There was a sense of the familiar in what had happened this night, as if she'd lived through the moment before, and while the warning was not lost on her - it was the message behind the visit that spoke loudest. It was easy to assume she was on the right track even though it was clearly leading her down a road more terrible than any she had yet tread.
She almost found herself welcoming the challenge as it gave greater credence to the belief she held in her incoherent dreams, her blind striving and her need to find...what she was looking for.
She took a small measure of certainty from the belief that if she did, in fact, manage to survive what she was striving toward she would have something new to rival the edge of the dissonance that ran tainted through her soul. And if not - well, there weren't many left who would mourn the remnant and she doubted any of her mortal problems would follow through her demise.
Starless Portent
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[127] Nymaya: Starless Portent
Fri Mar 5 02:38:06 2010
To: RP New_Thalos All ( Crelius Anastormia ) Imm Necrucifer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Ishtar Harbor was a bustling mass of business and activity, even at the ungodly hour she found herself prowling its dirty, sandy paths.
Night was heavy on the world and clouds scudded past the moons and obscured the stars, making the alleys all the more opaque. She was struck by the scent of fish and brine, spice and alcohol. A unique mix that easily assailed the senses as she tread by on cat's feet, deftly dodging the various drunken sailors and avid merchants that littered the area.
The sound of the moored ships creaking and groaning softly at their berths was a constant in the background along with the gentle slap and rush of the river. It was almost soothing, could have been moreso if the faint disturbance of movement behind her were not a clear indication that she was being followed.
She did not recognize the cadence of whatever stalked behind but she knew with little doubt. Brief pauses, detours as she stopped to engage the odd guard in conversation. It did not rid her of her shadow. She found it curious if disquieting. She had been hunted before but this did not appear to be similar.
It was not overconfidence that left her feeling rather interested but caution took over when she found herself in a far more vacant section of the harbor, a place that hosted empty stalls, tents and a single decrepit tavern. The disreputable often had the most interesting rumors.
The alleys she found here were even more ominous than the ones in the main bulk of the harbor's market, if only for their depth of silence. It was easy to get lost amongst them. She wasn't worried about that as she paused to scan the way behind her, though the faint shifting of shadows and the low hanging mist drew her attention sharply. Down an alley directly across from where she stood.
The flash of steel glimmered briefly as she paused long enough to check the curved daggers along her forearms and then she let curiosity and instinct guide her into the close alley.
She was ready for the slender figure that darted at her when she reached the intersection at the back of the warehouses. Her left hand shot out to grasp and violently twist the wrist holding the dagger headed for her throat even as she pulled the form from its hiding spot. Wide, murderous green eyes met hers as her dagger snapped forward in her grasp to press into the pale throat.
There was only a moment to spare during which, she took immediate stock of her opponent. A thief, well armed but wearing little more than black rags and a few pieces of ragged leather armor. The half elven creature was pitiful but carried the scent of blood on his clothing. A sloppy killer.
She was almost disappointed but that faded away only moments later as a sudden jarring impact struck the half elf in her grasp from behind, spurring the youth onto the blade she held at his throat. The green eyes opened wider, as did his mouth, which began to fill with arterial blood. She let go of the half elf as he reached up to cover the wound, her gaze following not it but the shadows around.
cont.
[127] Nymaya: Starless Portent
Fri Mar 5 02:38:06 2010
To: RP New_Thalos All ( Crelius Anastormia ) Imm Necrucifer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Ishtar Harbor was a bustling mass of business and activity, even at the ungodly hour she found herself prowling its dirty, sandy paths.
Night was heavy on the world and clouds scudded past the moons and obscured the stars, making the alleys all the more opaque. She was struck by the scent of fish and brine, spice and alcohol. A unique mix that easily assailed the senses as she tread by on cat's feet, deftly dodging the various drunken sailors and avid merchants that littered the area.
The sound of the moored ships creaking and groaning softly at their berths was a constant in the background along with the gentle slap and rush of the river. It was almost soothing, could have been moreso if the faint disturbance of movement behind her were not a clear indication that she was being followed.
She did not recognize the cadence of whatever stalked behind but she knew with little doubt. Brief pauses, detours as she stopped to engage the odd guard in conversation. It did not rid her of her shadow. She found it curious if disquieting. She had been hunted before but this did not appear to be similar.
It was not overconfidence that left her feeling rather interested but caution took over when she found herself in a far more vacant section of the harbor, a place that hosted empty stalls, tents and a single decrepit tavern. The disreputable often had the most interesting rumors.
The alleys she found here were even more ominous than the ones in the main bulk of the harbor's market, if only for their depth of silence. It was easy to get lost amongst them. She wasn't worried about that as she paused to scan the way behind her, though the faint shifting of shadows and the low hanging mist drew her attention sharply. Down an alley directly across from where she stood.
The flash of steel glimmered briefly as she paused long enough to check the curved daggers along her forearms and then she let curiosity and instinct guide her into the close alley.
She was ready for the slender figure that darted at her when she reached the intersection at the back of the warehouses. Her left hand shot out to grasp and violently twist the wrist holding the dagger headed for her throat even as she pulled the form from its hiding spot. Wide, murderous green eyes met hers as her dagger snapped forward in her grasp to press into the pale throat.
There was only a moment to spare during which, she took immediate stock of her opponent. A thief, well armed but wearing little more than black rags and a few pieces of ragged leather armor. The half elven creature was pitiful but carried the scent of blood on his clothing. A sloppy killer.
She was almost disappointed but that faded away only moments later as a sudden jarring impact struck the half elf in her grasp from behind, spurring the youth onto the blade she held at his throat. The green eyes opened wider, as did his mouth, which began to fill with arterial blood. She let go of the half elf as he reached up to cover the wound, her gaze following not it but the shadows around.
cont.
Discordant Echo
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[ 75] Nymaya: Discordant Echo
Fri Feb 26 13:26:24 2010
To: All RP Imm Necrucifer ( Anastormia Telthian Crelius )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She became aware of a sound.
Faint, like the breathing of someone as they slept, or of a predator as it stalked it prey.
Alert and awake now, she remained still in the black cushioned chair and settled to simply listen. Nothing moved. There was no sense of life, just the faint breath of sound - the awareness.
It grew in depth the longer she remained unmoving, became pronounced and certain. Familiar even. So familiar that a deep dread began to rise beside it. It was no physical manifestation. It was something she knew all too well. She had known this sensation for centuries and its resulting whisper for an eternity.
It wasn't calm and it wasn't comforting anymore.
It no longer reinforced any certainty in how she lived her life now, in the decisions she made that had managed to help keep her alive. She couldn't call on it to protect her, to guide her or even lend her much needed reassurance.
"...what brings you peace from it, Lady Kayen?"
And abruptly, it was no longer a gentle if ominous sound. It was a cacophony. Distorted and riding the precarious edge of agonizing. She knew how easy it would be to slip into it, to allow it reign over her sanity. She could understand how elves had fallen prey to madness in its wake.
Her hand blindly grasped for the hilt of the sword she knew she had propped up against the side of the chair before she'd sat down to doze, intent on grounding herself with its familiarity - but stopped abruptly when she realized it was gone.
Her eyes snapped open only to find equally familiar brown eyes gazing down at her. He'd lifted the scabbard in one hand while the other held to the side of the chair, allowing him to loom over her. He was so close she could see the detail in his iris's, feel his breath across her lips. But he was
dead...
'Don't let it rule you'
His mouth never moved but she heard his whisper.
'You were my purpose' She seemed to breathe the very words, all the while wondering if she had already lost her mind to the discord.
'I have faith in you' Stalwart and as certain as ever.
'It is a part of me' And she could feel despair wisp through her.
'Then accept it, understand it - seek to overcome it' There was indomitable strength there, a certainty that had carried her in the past. 'Live only to serve Him in all ways. I taught you well - the choice has always been yours how best to use it and to what purpose'
And then the feather light touch of his lips met hers gently after a breathless, timeless pause.
She awoke slowly, aware of a deep and empty calm. The sort of peace she had recently admitted to. Attempting to examine the feeling told her only that it was unlike anything she had ever experienced before; she had come to an acceptance in at least one aspect of her life.
She felt nothing more than certainty as she rose up from the self-same black cushioned chair in her dream, the Kayen manor yawning mostly empty around her, though she was beset with the haunting surety that she contained a tainted discord at her core, where once reigned the pure fiery song of her soul.
It was a disquieting realization but with a focused effort, she pushed it to the background of her thoughts and left the darkened parlor without a glance back.
[ 75] Nymaya: Discordant Echo
Fri Feb 26 13:26:24 2010
To: All RP Imm Necrucifer ( Anastormia Telthian Crelius )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She became aware of a sound.
Faint, like the breathing of someone as they slept, or of a predator as it stalked it prey.
Alert and awake now, she remained still in the black cushioned chair and settled to simply listen. Nothing moved. There was no sense of life, just the faint breath of sound - the awareness.
It grew in depth the longer she remained unmoving, became pronounced and certain. Familiar even. So familiar that a deep dread began to rise beside it. It was no physical manifestation. It was something she knew all too well. She had known this sensation for centuries and its resulting whisper for an eternity.
It wasn't calm and it wasn't comforting anymore.
It no longer reinforced any certainty in how she lived her life now, in the decisions she made that had managed to help keep her alive. She couldn't call on it to protect her, to guide her or even lend her much needed reassurance.
"...what brings you peace from it, Lady Kayen?"
And abruptly, it was no longer a gentle if ominous sound. It was a cacophony. Distorted and riding the precarious edge of agonizing. She knew how easy it would be to slip into it, to allow it reign over her sanity. She could understand how elves had fallen prey to madness in its wake.
Her hand blindly grasped for the hilt of the sword she knew she had propped up against the side of the chair before she'd sat down to doze, intent on grounding herself with its familiarity - but stopped abruptly when she realized it was gone.
Her eyes snapped open only to find equally familiar brown eyes gazing down at her. He'd lifted the scabbard in one hand while the other held to the side of the chair, allowing him to loom over her. He was so close she could see the detail in his iris's, feel his breath across her lips. But he was
dead...
'Don't let it rule you'
His mouth never moved but she heard his whisper.
'You were my purpose' She seemed to breathe the very words, all the while wondering if she had already lost her mind to the discord.
'I have faith in you' Stalwart and as certain as ever.
'It is a part of me' And she could feel despair wisp through her.
'Then accept it, understand it - seek to overcome it' There was indomitable strength there, a certainty that had carried her in the past. 'Live only to serve Him in all ways. I taught you well - the choice has always been yours how best to use it and to what purpose'
And then the feather light touch of his lips met hers gently after a breathless, timeless pause.
---
She awoke slowly, aware of a deep and empty calm. The sort of peace she had recently admitted to. Attempting to examine the feeling told her only that it was unlike anything she had ever experienced before; she had come to an acceptance in at least one aspect of her life.
She felt nothing more than certainty as she rose up from the self-same black cushioned chair in her dream, the Kayen manor yawning mostly empty around her, though she was beset with the haunting surety that she contained a tainted discord at her core, where once reigned the pure fiery song of her soul.
It was a disquieting realization but with a focused effort, she pushed it to the background of her thoughts and left the darkened parlor without a glance back.
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