Rest and Research

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[124] Nymaya: Rest and Research
Fri Jan 7 02:39:27 2011
To: All New_Thalos Reklah Dar'shin ( Imm Cayenna RP )
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The book had a scent she recognized as ancient.

It was a strangely comforting smell and with a great deal of care for the brittle pages, she opened it. A layer of dust, caked on by the years, slid from its binding but did not deter her.

An equally ancient tale greeted her eyes, written in very old elvish. An unexpected surprise that, but she arose to the challenge as she studied the elegant cursive. She had had cause and time to become learned in not only language but in most forms of its writing as well. An old friend had given her a unique respect for such things.

Pain in that thought, but she pushed past it. With the first page deciphered, she sat back to relieve the stress on her lower back - which ached regardless - and reached for the cup of tea that sat steaming off to the side. It was bitter, with a hint of mint and honey, but the healer - Auda - had been adamant. Pregnancy amongst the elven kind was hardly ever easy and for herself, she had extra obstacles to overcome.

Her age, her chronic nightmares, the demonic presence at her throat...the stone even then pulsing against her flesh, reminding her with periodic flashes of heat that occasionally followed the rhythm of her heartbeat, that it was always with her. There was a stress there and one not at all healthy for the unborn.

She had, in fact, been ordered by the healer to rest. No stress beyond what a day brought. There was some worry that she would not handle the labor well, a fact she knew to be close to the truth. Too close, perhaps. She had not handled the labor of her last child well at all though that had been over half a century ago. She had lingered on the cusp of life and death after, weakened and fevered.

She sat staring blankly at the opened tome, her cup of tea cradled in one palm while her other hand rested atop the swell of her middle. There were tales, half fiction maybe, of demonic debt as it had played out in the past. Not a well documented sort of event because it was a very few who had ever drawn such a thing upon themselves apparently. What sat before her was one such tale, and only a page in, she already knew it had not ended well.

You paid for life if you brought it back and in her case, she had helped pull a soul from the very clutches of the under-realm - from the demons who had coveted its torment. You paid your price; life for life.

She forced the last of her bitter tea down, feeling its warmth calm her even though she was wracked with misgivings, and leaned forward over the tome to read on.

'...if there is one thing to be said of demons who come seeking a debt, it is that they vary in what they want and how they wish to achieve it. What is certain is that they will never cease their hunt. You can neither escape them in life, nor through death...'

It was the gist of a warning by whomever had written the tragic tale that had come before. It lacked critical information that might have given her a better understanding of the sort of demon she found herself confronting, but it relayed an assertion of what she had already been advised by one of Necrucifer's priests.

She could feel a frown creasing her brow, a headache just behind her eyes. There were exceptions to every rule. She herself was such a creature; destroyed by the fear and the selfish hatred of her own kind. Intended collateral damage. Broken so completely and pieced back together by those of Necrucifer and Drakkara's ilk.

This book and its message was not - could not be the end all. Closing it with care, she set it aside and drew another book from the amassed pile beside her.