((XDDD *bounces* I KNEW we had a fan base!))
The confession brought with it a silence that seemed to dim the lights in the room with its weight. Mystic stared fixedly at Naeodin, searching her eyes for any hint that she wasn't telling the truth. Anything at all that would assure the Red Mage she was lying. No one in their right mind could want to put a child through this hell. Not to mention the child's mother. For all her rabid anger at Shy, Rugan's driving concern was getting Roah back.
"What... exactly... are you getting?" Mystic replied, forcing calm into her tone of voice. It seemed she had to force a lot of her less provoking reactions in this place.
* * *
Faust tried once more to halt Rugan's progress. He latched onto her arm and made of himself a dead weight. Unfortunately, Rugan could see the lift by that point and even Faust's earlier threat could not break the red fog of rage that now clouded her vision. In a single easy sweep, she tossed Faust like a rag doll into the wall of Naeodin's room. A sickening thud heralded his impact, and then silence. Rugan marched, unimpeded, into the lift and punched the key that would take her down.
Like a caged animal she paced back and forth in the narrow cylindar as it slid down through the earth. She had already drawn both of her blades, one clutched in each hand. In her left, the hawk, her heart. In her right, the wild cat, her fury. The passive gleam of their curved edges spoke the words that seethed beneath the surface. Death, revenge, redemption; they swore as one.
At long last, the lift reached Shy's lab and slide back its concave door with a musical ding. Rugan burst into the free space, expecting to find the prestine white hallways and bright, florescent lights of the mad scientist's domain. Instead, she saw only herself. Over and over again.
Rugan bellowed a roar that caused the mirrors around her to vibrate. She brought one blade up, then tore it down across the face of the mirror directly in front of her.
An explosion of glass showered outwards, accompanied by a cacopheny of stattico tinkles. Some of the shards cut slashes into Rugan's arm and hand where she had been too slow in withdrawing it. Blood welled to the surface and, like a psychadelic drug, fuelled her anger further. She snorted at the gaping hole made by her attack. Broken bits of glass stuck out like teeth from the edges of its neighbours, threatning to tear her to shreds if she turned the wrong way.
Rugan stepped through the opening, turning her shoulders to the side to avoid being hit. Once again she was faced with a wall of her own image. Her face was twisted into a frenzied mask, barely recognizable as her own anymore. Muscles buldged in her arms and neck, causing thick veins to stand out beneath her dark skin. A single, throbbing vein at her temple beat in time to the quick pounding of her heart. When she brought her blades down on the next mirror directly in her path, a second spanned where it was unknown whether the glass would break first or she would explode. However, Rugan knew she could not give into her anger just yet. She had to keep it bottled in her chest, boiling like a vat of oil ready to be dumped on her opponents. Years of training under the aged dwarf, Dungar, had taught her how precious this control could be.
What bits she could not control, for there were bound to be some leaks, she expelled on mirror after infuriating mirror. Shy's maze would slow her down marginally, but Rugan knew full well that the quickest path between two points was a straight line. It was one of the few mathimatical concepts she had come to appreciate.
* * *
Elsewhere in the underground lair, protected from the outside world, a young girl awoke for the first time.
She didn't know it was her first true moment of consciousness since her birth. In her mind, she could picture the years that had gone by. Faces, names, locations, all of them were accessible to her. Most of all, she remembered her loving uncle and how he had been kind enough to raise her after her parents died. His love was the focus of her life, for without him, she would have been dead too. She would do anything her uncle required of her, even kill.
Roah stretched and yawned extravagantly, blinking sleep from her eyes until she could focus on the small room in which Shy had put her only hours before. She, of course, saw the plain, single bed and simple dresser as her everyday possesions which she had used hundreds of times before. There were no posters to decorate her room, nor any hints that a teenage girl lived here. That was the way her uncle preferred things. Clutter was unclean, and therefore unwelcome.
Slender, dark brown legs slid over the edge of the bed and small feet touched the cold floor beneath. She waited a moment to let her body adjust to the chill surface, then rose and padded over to the dresser where her daily wear had been laid out.
As Roah dressed, she thought idly of the odd dreams that had disturbed her slumber. There was so much noise and frightening changes. Her uncle had appeared a few times alongside a bald man in black glasses. They had loomed over her, grinning like cadavers and speaking in a foreign tongue. Throughout the dream, a shadow had stalked her footsteps. Tall, dark and smelling of metal and coal, the shadow had remained forever out of Roah's grasp.
The young girl pulled her hair out from under the confines of her simple, wool shirt and let the waist-length cascade fall against her back once more. She reached for the last piece of her ensamble, shrugging off the dreams at once. They were, as her uncle had always said, just dreams.
Roah gave the two sai's a few practice swings before tucking them into the back of her belt. Despite the fact that she rarely left her uncle's domain, she never went anywhere without them. Now fully dressed, she turned towards the door and set her mind to finding out where her uncle had gotten off to for the day.
She couldn't have known the truth behind her dreams. Or the fact that her true mother had just spent two hours hacking her way through a maze just to get to her. Shy had seen to that.
Wind Child
Moderators: Mystic Dragon, Xalia, Shard
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Mystic Dragon
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(( XD <Shy> They love me! Really, they doo!!))
Naeodin looked up. If it had been someone else, if it had not been that moment, she would have found this disturbing, a bit cruel and not necessarily a 'good' thing. But this was her, and while usually she could remain so objective, this was one time when necessity and doing whats right were different matters.
"I'm getting a grandchild." she whispered softly, her voice the only thing in the darkness, and yet even then she was shocked by her own words. It was... well... she almost laughed. "She's going crazy." she said, as if this explained it all. "I don't know how long she will be with us, and the only way I can save her is by giving her someone to love even more."
In her mind everything was explained, everything was justified. She wondered if others would see it in the same light.
***
Checking a mental watch and thinking that it had been long enough, he looked into a moniter and saw that Roah was alive and moving around. He smiled. While he often transplanted memories, it was the first time he had created a life times worth of them in just a couple of minutes. He was so darn proud of himself!
A little bit giddy, because Faust would probably adore this just as much as he would, it was with some chidlish difficulty that he managed to push the thoughts away.
There would be time, later.
For a moment, he wondered how Rugan would change things. The memories were just that, real enough and the people she had come to contact with were, real. Soon, using a series of networks those memories would seep into the minds of others, giving them the other side so that sould Roah track them down, they would remember it as well.
Technically, he wasn't lying to her. The way she had been 'brought up' was actually the way it would have happened, had he kept her... he just didn't like admitting that to himself because it meant her memories weren't soley his creations.
If futures had several versions, he had merely stepped into the one that had belonged to them both, and had copied the facts.
He just hoped that she understood his work enough to understand _that_.
"Are you going to leave her in there forever?" someone asked, and Shy looked up.
"I guess not." glad he had videotaped it all, he pressed another button.
The music around Rugan began to fade, and slowly, starting from the mirrors behind her they seemed to ease away, showing the illusion for what it was. Mirrors sliding into walls, the distance between scientist and blacksmith wasnt' as big as a two hour journey.
He stood in the entrance of the main room, a couple of meters away from the Blacksmith dressed in his customary cheongsam of orange and burnt bronze, his hands loosely linked in front of him and a small smile on his face.
"Rugan." he purred, looking serene and so completely at home, as if nothing usual had happened in the past few hours. "Welcome."
He was unprotected.
But he was relying on something else to solve that little issue.
***
Above ground the lift opened again, waiting for Faust.
Shy would want a witness for this.
Naeodin looked up. If it had been someone else, if it had not been that moment, she would have found this disturbing, a bit cruel and not necessarily a 'good' thing. But this was her, and while usually she could remain so objective, this was one time when necessity and doing whats right were different matters.
"I'm getting a grandchild." she whispered softly, her voice the only thing in the darkness, and yet even then she was shocked by her own words. It was... well... she almost laughed. "She's going crazy." she said, as if this explained it all. "I don't know how long she will be with us, and the only way I can save her is by giving her someone to love even more."
In her mind everything was explained, everything was justified. She wondered if others would see it in the same light.
***
Checking a mental watch and thinking that it had been long enough, he looked into a moniter and saw that Roah was alive and moving around. He smiled. While he often transplanted memories, it was the first time he had created a life times worth of them in just a couple of minutes. He was so darn proud of himself!
A little bit giddy, because Faust would probably adore this just as much as he would, it was with some chidlish difficulty that he managed to push the thoughts away.
There would be time, later.
For a moment, he wondered how Rugan would change things. The memories were just that, real enough and the people she had come to contact with were, real. Soon, using a series of networks those memories would seep into the minds of others, giving them the other side so that sould Roah track them down, they would remember it as well.
Technically, he wasn't lying to her. The way she had been 'brought up' was actually the way it would have happened, had he kept her... he just didn't like admitting that to himself because it meant her memories weren't soley his creations.
If futures had several versions, he had merely stepped into the one that had belonged to them both, and had copied the facts.
He just hoped that she understood his work enough to understand _that_.
"Are you going to leave her in there forever?" someone asked, and Shy looked up.
"I guess not." glad he had videotaped it all, he pressed another button.
The music around Rugan began to fade, and slowly, starting from the mirrors behind her they seemed to ease away, showing the illusion for what it was. Mirrors sliding into walls, the distance between scientist and blacksmith wasnt' as big as a two hour journey.
He stood in the entrance of the main room, a couple of meters away from the Blacksmith dressed in his customary cheongsam of orange and burnt bronze, his hands loosely linked in front of him and a small smile on his face.
"Rugan." he purred, looking serene and so completely at home, as if nothing usual had happened in the past few hours. "Welcome."
He was unprotected.
But he was relying on something else to solve that little issue.
***
Above ground the lift opened again, waiting for Faust.
Shy would want a witness for this.
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Mystic Dragon
- Great Wyrm
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Mystic listened in growing disbelief to Naeodin's confession. A chill knot of unease settled in her stomach and began to expand, slowly but surely, into the rest of her body. She leaned forward as the other woman talked, her movement imperceptable.
"Naeodin," she said softly as the mood turned solume, "you know I regret more then anyone what happened that day. It was a tragedy unlike any other. However, I don't think you fully understand what is at stake here."
* * *
A war was raging inside Rugan's head. She didn't know whether she wanted to slice Shy into pieces, or retrieve Roah first. In a short matter of hours, her motherly instinct had grown tenfold. Perhaps it was the fact that most of her aggression had been bled out through hundreds of minute cuts all along her arms. The glass slashes cut up her mocha skin in a lattice-work pattern that had been mostly obscured by the thick well of blood coating her arms and hands. Red rivluts dripped down the wooden handles of her weapons and dropped singlular splashes onto the cold, gray ground below. A small circle had been formed around her stationary feet as she turned left and right, watching the mirrors retreating from her attack. Most of them had been shattered or cracked. Some were even edged in red, the dark liquid leaving traces of its passing as those broken shards slid out of sight.
A continuous hum built up in Rugan's ears as silence filled the room for the first time in two hours. Every minute that she had spent there had been subject to an irratic melody of crashing mirrors and bellowed oaths. Every minute filled the furious blacksmith with a growing sense of fear. She was losing her daughter.
And then all the mirrors were gone and Rugan could see clearly through to the other side. The room in which she had been imprisoned would take a matter of minutes to cross normally, but she had been confused, turned around. Her straight line had become a knotted thread. Now, though, there was only the doors. Beyond that lay her child and her revenge. Whichever came first would be decided as soon as she stepped into Shy's domain.
A purposeful stride took her quickly across the room. Keeping her fists still tightly clenched around her bloodied blades, she slammed into the swinging doors and sent them crashing into the walls on the far side. A subtle crunch was muffled by the boom of their impact and faint cracks in the paint traced the outline of the mobile doors. Rugan took three steps into the adjacent room, enough to clear her of the madly swinging obstacles. She froze in place.
For a second, Rugan could only stare as her impotent rage boiled to the surface. Soon it consumed her, contorting her face so far that she no longer looked human. Her features were beastial, her skin flushed with blood and adrenaline. The viens that had been keeping up a steady throb beneath her skin looked ready to burst. She dropped into a fighting stance, gripping her dire axes with renewed force. In her mind's eye Shy's image was silouetted by a sea of red.
Rugan let loose an animalistic bellow and felt the air scrape across her raw throat. Lips curled back over stark, white teeth and muscles uncoiled in a slow, fluid spring. The blacksmith launched forward, sweeping her blades back in readiness. Three steps, two, one and she jumped. Cold steel arched through the air, following her path of ascent. Both gleaming tips raised above her head and pointed downwards at the stationary geneticist.
* * *
Faust groaned as consciousness stabbed at the forefront of his mind. Wakefulness was an icepick, tapping repeatedly at his sensative nerve endings until it had worn down the protective layer of oblivion and revealed a pocket of pounding headaches. He lifted a hand to feel the back of his head. Immediately his fingers brushed over an egg-sized lump from where he had impacted with the wall. Beneath his pitch-black goggles he scanned the room quickly for Rugan.
Gone.
So much for stalling her.
It was then that he noticed the lift was once again open and waiting in the far wall of Naeodin's chambers. The only explanation he could come up with was that Shy was waiting for him. Surely he hadn't been out long enough for Rugan to have finished her deed and escaped. Even if she had managed to kill Shy -and the thought of it made him shudder- his pets would never allow her to leave alive.
The injured scientist pushed himself to his feet and took a moment to brush off his white lab coat. His head was still pounding abominably, but at least he could walk. Faust made use of this small blessing and was soon on his way down into the depth's of Shy's lab.
Just as it had with Rugan, the door opened with a musical ding when it reached the bottom level. Metal slid back into the wall and Faust stepped out into a wide room speckled with glass shards. The double doors at the end of the hall were still swinging from the force of Rugan's entrance. As they swung back in on themselves, Faust had a glace beyond.
There stood Shy, and a blood-thirsty Rugan descending upon him.
* * *
Roah had known something was wrong from the moment she stepped out the door. The air was charged with a malignant energy, though she couldn't tell how or why she knew. It was just there, creeping under her skin, crawling down her throat, forming a worried knot in the pit of her stomach. She tried to brush it off as a silly trick of the mind. Nothing could possibly go wrong in her uncle's domain.
She turned the corner and felt her stomach drop into her feet. There stood her uncle, looking as if he were waiting for the approach of the lunch tray, and towards him charged a woman unlike any she had ever seen. Massive, muscled arms pumped in time to the pounding of her booted feet. A long stream of jet black hair whipped out behind her, adorned with a single lock bound in threads and beads. Her skin was the colour of dark chocolate and peppered with long slashes. Blood dripped down the smooth, wooden handles she held in her fists and sprayed the clean, white floor of her uncle's entrance room. There was murder in her eyes and a snarl on her lips. Roah could still hear the echo of an inhuman cry as she started to run.
No sound escaped the girl's lips, aside from a sharp intake of breath. She didn't think about her actions, but merely preformed them. Ducking low she charged in, her hands snapping back to her sai's. Slender spider-like fingers wrapped around the leather-bound hilts and drew them soundlessly from the back of her belt. A streak of steel caught the light, barely long enough to acknowledge her quicksilver movement.
Metal met metal with a resounding crash. The sharpened edge of the twin axes scraped through the grooves of the sai's, screeching like a dying animal. Momentum forced Roah back into her uncle's chest, but gave her enough room to bring her leg up. Her knee connected with the other woman's solid gut first, quickly followed by a booted foot. She was barely half the size of the muscle-bound giant, but surprise was on her side.
Rugan stumbled backwards, wheezing to regain the breath that had been kicked out of her already laboured lungs. Both blades dropped their tips to the ground after the killing stroke had been averted. The weapons that had looked menecing seconds ago now hung listlessly from shaking hands. Rugan looked up, her jaw agape, and stared at Cree's spitting image.
"You leave my uncle alone!" Roah roared.
"Naeodin," she said softly as the mood turned solume, "you know I regret more then anyone what happened that day. It was a tragedy unlike any other. However, I don't think you fully understand what is at stake here."
* * *
A war was raging inside Rugan's head. She didn't know whether she wanted to slice Shy into pieces, or retrieve Roah first. In a short matter of hours, her motherly instinct had grown tenfold. Perhaps it was the fact that most of her aggression had been bled out through hundreds of minute cuts all along her arms. The glass slashes cut up her mocha skin in a lattice-work pattern that had been mostly obscured by the thick well of blood coating her arms and hands. Red rivluts dripped down the wooden handles of her weapons and dropped singlular splashes onto the cold, gray ground below. A small circle had been formed around her stationary feet as she turned left and right, watching the mirrors retreating from her attack. Most of them had been shattered or cracked. Some were even edged in red, the dark liquid leaving traces of its passing as those broken shards slid out of sight.
A continuous hum built up in Rugan's ears as silence filled the room for the first time in two hours. Every minute that she had spent there had been subject to an irratic melody of crashing mirrors and bellowed oaths. Every minute filled the furious blacksmith with a growing sense of fear. She was losing her daughter.
And then all the mirrors were gone and Rugan could see clearly through to the other side. The room in which she had been imprisoned would take a matter of minutes to cross normally, but she had been confused, turned around. Her straight line had become a knotted thread. Now, though, there was only the doors. Beyond that lay her child and her revenge. Whichever came first would be decided as soon as she stepped into Shy's domain.
A purposeful stride took her quickly across the room. Keeping her fists still tightly clenched around her bloodied blades, she slammed into the swinging doors and sent them crashing into the walls on the far side. A subtle crunch was muffled by the boom of their impact and faint cracks in the paint traced the outline of the mobile doors. Rugan took three steps into the adjacent room, enough to clear her of the madly swinging obstacles. She froze in place.
For a second, Rugan could only stare as her impotent rage boiled to the surface. Soon it consumed her, contorting her face so far that she no longer looked human. Her features were beastial, her skin flushed with blood and adrenaline. The viens that had been keeping up a steady throb beneath her skin looked ready to burst. She dropped into a fighting stance, gripping her dire axes with renewed force. In her mind's eye Shy's image was silouetted by a sea of red.
Rugan let loose an animalistic bellow and felt the air scrape across her raw throat. Lips curled back over stark, white teeth and muscles uncoiled in a slow, fluid spring. The blacksmith launched forward, sweeping her blades back in readiness. Three steps, two, one and she jumped. Cold steel arched through the air, following her path of ascent. Both gleaming tips raised above her head and pointed downwards at the stationary geneticist.
* * *
Faust groaned as consciousness stabbed at the forefront of his mind. Wakefulness was an icepick, tapping repeatedly at his sensative nerve endings until it had worn down the protective layer of oblivion and revealed a pocket of pounding headaches. He lifted a hand to feel the back of his head. Immediately his fingers brushed over an egg-sized lump from where he had impacted with the wall. Beneath his pitch-black goggles he scanned the room quickly for Rugan.
Gone.
So much for stalling her.
It was then that he noticed the lift was once again open and waiting in the far wall of Naeodin's chambers. The only explanation he could come up with was that Shy was waiting for him. Surely he hadn't been out long enough for Rugan to have finished her deed and escaped. Even if she had managed to kill Shy -and the thought of it made him shudder- his pets would never allow her to leave alive.
The injured scientist pushed himself to his feet and took a moment to brush off his white lab coat. His head was still pounding abominably, but at least he could walk. Faust made use of this small blessing and was soon on his way down into the depth's of Shy's lab.
Just as it had with Rugan, the door opened with a musical ding when it reached the bottom level. Metal slid back into the wall and Faust stepped out into a wide room speckled with glass shards. The double doors at the end of the hall were still swinging from the force of Rugan's entrance. As they swung back in on themselves, Faust had a glace beyond.
There stood Shy, and a blood-thirsty Rugan descending upon him.
* * *
Roah had known something was wrong from the moment she stepped out the door. The air was charged with a malignant energy, though she couldn't tell how or why she knew. It was just there, creeping under her skin, crawling down her throat, forming a worried knot in the pit of her stomach. She tried to brush it off as a silly trick of the mind. Nothing could possibly go wrong in her uncle's domain.
She turned the corner and felt her stomach drop into her feet. There stood her uncle, looking as if he were waiting for the approach of the lunch tray, and towards him charged a woman unlike any she had ever seen. Massive, muscled arms pumped in time to the pounding of her booted feet. A long stream of jet black hair whipped out behind her, adorned with a single lock bound in threads and beads. Her skin was the colour of dark chocolate and peppered with long slashes. Blood dripped down the smooth, wooden handles she held in her fists and sprayed the clean, white floor of her uncle's entrance room. There was murder in her eyes and a snarl on her lips. Roah could still hear the echo of an inhuman cry as she started to run.
No sound escaped the girl's lips, aside from a sharp intake of breath. She didn't think about her actions, but merely preformed them. Ducking low she charged in, her hands snapping back to her sai's. Slender spider-like fingers wrapped around the leather-bound hilts and drew them soundlessly from the back of her belt. A streak of steel caught the light, barely long enough to acknowledge her quicksilver movement.
Metal met metal with a resounding crash. The sharpened edge of the twin axes scraped through the grooves of the sai's, screeching like a dying animal. Momentum forced Roah back into her uncle's chest, but gave her enough room to bring her leg up. Her knee connected with the other woman's solid gut first, quickly followed by a booted foot. She was barely half the size of the muscle-bound giant, but surprise was on her side.
Rugan stumbled backwards, wheezing to regain the breath that had been kicked out of her already laboured lungs. Both blades dropped their tips to the ground after the killing stroke had been averted. The weapons that had looked menecing seconds ago now hung listlessly from shaking hands. Rugan looked up, her jaw agape, and stared at Cree's spitting image.
"You leave my uncle alone!" Roah roared.
https://renaissancebookpress.com/2017/0 ... tlin-caul/" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
Naeodin shook her head. "I will do anything for my daughter." the words were sometimes dead, as if she was trying to convince herself of that as well. "And Shy..." she looked at Mystic. "He's not evil" Her lips quirked into a smile. "He's my scientist, and I will do almost everything for him. Why else would I keep him here when so many of my friends have banned him from their own worlds?
But likewise, he will do anything for me, and he will protect my Vella Crean with his life."
((Dun dun DUUNN))
***
Shy had been expecting this.
But Roah wasn't the only one with new memories.
Feeling her weight, and watching as Rugan flew away, he felt a moment of smugness, satisfaction.
And then he rolled over quickly, not falling over his cheongsam like others might had and visually he scanned Roah.
"Are you okay?" he demanded. "I give you years of lessons and you couldn't have come up with something that puts you out of harms way first?" his voice was defensive, protective and a little bit alarmed.
What if Rugan had not reacted that way?
Control came to him in an instance however, and he turned around, watching Rugan. His face was that same slight purr of a sneer, and he was still very... Shy.
"Rugan." he said simply. "Meet Roah."
He turned around.
Would this one learn to hate him, eventually?
"Roah." he said quietly. "That is your mother."
He couldn't say anything else.
After all, some sadistic part of him had _wanted_ this.
His eyes sought out Faust's, and he arched one elegant brow.
What would those two do next?
And would Shy survive?
But likewise, he will do anything for me, and he will protect my Vella Crean with his life."
((Dun dun DUUNN))
***
Shy had been expecting this.
But Roah wasn't the only one with new memories.
Feeling her weight, and watching as Rugan flew away, he felt a moment of smugness, satisfaction.
And then he rolled over quickly, not falling over his cheongsam like others might had and visually he scanned Roah.
"Are you okay?" he demanded. "I give you years of lessons and you couldn't have come up with something that puts you out of harms way first?" his voice was defensive, protective and a little bit alarmed.
What if Rugan had not reacted that way?
Control came to him in an instance however, and he turned around, watching Rugan. His face was that same slight purr of a sneer, and he was still very... Shy.
"Rugan." he said simply. "Meet Roah."
He turned around.
Would this one learn to hate him, eventually?
"Roah." he said quietly. "That is your mother."
He couldn't say anything else.
After all, some sadistic part of him had _wanted_ this.
His eyes sought out Faust's, and he arched one elegant brow.
What would those two do next?
And would Shy survive?
-
Silver Midnight
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Mystic Dragon
- Great Wyrm
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That knot of unease that had settled in Mystic's stomach took on a new sentience. It squirmed around her guts, turning her blood to chill ice. She shifted around in her seat, the restlessness feeding into her nerves. Yet it wasn't only her concern about this converstation that was causing her alarm. Somewhere, something was going terribly wrong.
"Naeodin, you know I consider you a friend, but I believe you have been misguided here. He doesn't know the consequences of his actions. He may have your best interests in mind, but he is reckless, inconsiderate. If he had succeeded in obtaining a vial of my blood, as opposed to my ward's-"
The rest of her sentence stuck in her throat. Mystic turned a searching gaze on the far wall, gazing far beyond the painted plaster and drywall. She knew, with a sinking certainty, exactly what had gone wrong.
For a brief second, Mystic returned her gaze to Naeodin. The woman whom she had trusted, who had always been possessed of a great wisdom, suddenly aged in her mind's eye. As much as Mystic had been wont to deny it, Naeodin was getting old. Her sharp intellect and leadership skills had been pushed aside in favour of a grandmother's want for a family. Mystic too desired a family, but long ago she had accepted the entirity of the Warren as 'hers'. Rugan was as much her kin as was the golden-haired Ayanrix who called her 'mother'.
The Red Mage rose from her seat and swept out of the room without another word. Her staff came to hand, magic tingling at the edges of her fingertips. Fear compressed her heart and made her lungs labour for breath as she sought desperately for the source of Rugan's anguish.
* * *
At first, she couldn't feel anything. Pain flared in her knees, sending shock bolts up and down her legs. She knew she had fallen because suddenly she was looking up into the face of her daughter, and not down anymore. Something clattered on the ground beside her, but she didn't acknowledge that she had dropped her axes. Her body felt numb, her mind dead, and her heart burned with a single mantra. This is Roah. My Roah.
"Sorry Uncle Shy," Roah retorted without taking her eyes off the stunned barbarian, "but she was about to cut you in half and I kinda like you in one pi- WHAT?!" Dark hair whipped around her face as she turned a bewildered look on the primping geneticist. Her hands still clutched her weapons with a fearsome strength and her muscles had yet to relax their fighting pose. She was divided, in mind and body. Part of her screamed to adhere to her teachings and not lose track of her opponent, and another part reeled from the words he had just spoken.
"You're kidding, right?" She addressed her 'uncle', a wary note in her youthful voice. "You told me my parents died when I was still a baby."
"How could you do this?" The faint whisper broke from Rugan's throat, barely passing over her lips before it faded away. She watched Roah snap her gaze back to her, saw the suspicion and hatred that burned in those hazel-gold eyes. The same eyes that had stared up at her with child-like wonderment only hours ago.
There was no denying that this was her daughter. The cascade of straight hair that fell down her back was as black as night, just as her father's had been. Just as her mother's was. Her skin was a shade lighter then Rugan's, as if someone had stirred an ouce more milk into the coffee before pouring it into the mould. High cheekbones and a wide brow set her eyes close to the surface of her face, parted by a small, pointed nose. Dark red lips curved down in a frown. A small dimple appeared in the corner of her mouth and collected shadows. Her frame was petite, still underdeveloped by her young years. Shapely hips promised to fill out and rose bud breasts to swell into the proportions greatly deisred by men. She was dressed simply despite her striking beauty. Leather pants conformed to her long legs and a woolen shirt hung off her shoulders. Were it not for the two deadly sai's held in her hands, she would have looked ready for a relaxing evening in the company of friends and family.
Rugan choked on a sob as she stared fixedly into the eyes of her own child. In a single instant, her world had been shattered beyond repair.
* * *
Faust wasted no time in crossing the glass-covered room. He slipped through the doors just as they came to a rest in their original positions, barely causing enough of a stir to set them vibrating. With his back to the doors, he took in the scene before him.
Rugan kneeled on the floor, her heart broken; Roah stood over her and in front of Shy protectively, a dangerous light in her almond-shaped eyes; and Shy himself stood behind it all. A smile graced Faust's lips. He had his revenge and, if he knew Mystic, soon he'd have a chance to get his sample.
"Naeodin, you know I consider you a friend, but I believe you have been misguided here. He doesn't know the consequences of his actions. He may have your best interests in mind, but he is reckless, inconsiderate. If he had succeeded in obtaining a vial of my blood, as opposed to my ward's-"
The rest of her sentence stuck in her throat. Mystic turned a searching gaze on the far wall, gazing far beyond the painted plaster and drywall. She knew, with a sinking certainty, exactly what had gone wrong.
For a brief second, Mystic returned her gaze to Naeodin. The woman whom she had trusted, who had always been possessed of a great wisdom, suddenly aged in her mind's eye. As much as Mystic had been wont to deny it, Naeodin was getting old. Her sharp intellect and leadership skills had been pushed aside in favour of a grandmother's want for a family. Mystic too desired a family, but long ago she had accepted the entirity of the Warren as 'hers'. Rugan was as much her kin as was the golden-haired Ayanrix who called her 'mother'.
The Red Mage rose from her seat and swept out of the room without another word. Her staff came to hand, magic tingling at the edges of her fingertips. Fear compressed her heart and made her lungs labour for breath as she sought desperately for the source of Rugan's anguish.
* * *
At first, she couldn't feel anything. Pain flared in her knees, sending shock bolts up and down her legs. She knew she had fallen because suddenly she was looking up into the face of her daughter, and not down anymore. Something clattered on the ground beside her, but she didn't acknowledge that she had dropped her axes. Her body felt numb, her mind dead, and her heart burned with a single mantra. This is Roah. My Roah.
"Sorry Uncle Shy," Roah retorted without taking her eyes off the stunned barbarian, "but she was about to cut you in half and I kinda like you in one pi- WHAT?!" Dark hair whipped around her face as she turned a bewildered look on the primping geneticist. Her hands still clutched her weapons with a fearsome strength and her muscles had yet to relax their fighting pose. She was divided, in mind and body. Part of her screamed to adhere to her teachings and not lose track of her opponent, and another part reeled from the words he had just spoken.
"You're kidding, right?" She addressed her 'uncle', a wary note in her youthful voice. "You told me my parents died when I was still a baby."
"How could you do this?" The faint whisper broke from Rugan's throat, barely passing over her lips before it faded away. She watched Roah snap her gaze back to her, saw the suspicion and hatred that burned in those hazel-gold eyes. The same eyes that had stared up at her with child-like wonderment only hours ago.
There was no denying that this was her daughter. The cascade of straight hair that fell down her back was as black as night, just as her father's had been. Just as her mother's was. Her skin was a shade lighter then Rugan's, as if someone had stirred an ouce more milk into the coffee before pouring it into the mould. High cheekbones and a wide brow set her eyes close to the surface of her face, parted by a small, pointed nose. Dark red lips curved down in a frown. A small dimple appeared in the corner of her mouth and collected shadows. Her frame was petite, still underdeveloped by her young years. Shapely hips promised to fill out and rose bud breasts to swell into the proportions greatly deisred by men. She was dressed simply despite her striking beauty. Leather pants conformed to her long legs and a woolen shirt hung off her shoulders. Were it not for the two deadly sai's held in her hands, she would have looked ready for a relaxing evening in the company of friends and family.
Rugan choked on a sob as she stared fixedly into the eyes of her own child. In a single instant, her world had been shattered beyond repair.
* * *
Faust wasted no time in crossing the glass-covered room. He slipped through the doors just as they came to a rest in their original positions, barely causing enough of a stir to set them vibrating. With his back to the doors, he took in the scene before him.
Rugan kneeled on the floor, her heart broken; Roah stood over her and in front of Shy protectively, a dangerous light in her almond-shaped eyes; and Shy himself stood behind it all. A smile graced Faust's lips. He had his revenge and, if he knew Mystic, soon he'd have a chance to get his sample.
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Naeodin watched Mystic go, tempering the surprise that responded in her heart. Mystic's blood? This was what it was all about? She felt tired, more tired than she had in a long time.
If she had known...
Ah, but such a lie. She would probably have still done all of this.
"I'm sorry." she said these words in the quiet, and got up, moving around the room. I'm sorry. But to who? Shy? Mystic? Her daughter?
'Naeodin' Sasiath's voice came from the darkness, and the aging woman walked over to turn off the lights. She was alone now. 'Naeodin, you can't undo this. None of us can. Why don't we just go away, just the two of us for a little vacation? You weren't supposed to be working for so long...'
Naeodin smiled, but it was bitter. "A vacation" she sighed. When had she had one of those in such a long time? "We have things to do, dear heart. People to see..." she walked out of the room, a plan forming in the dredges of her mind. "Come. Soon, we'll go visit somewhere nice and balmly after we get this done."
***
Shy smiled ironically. "I wish I was." After all, she was beautiful. Deadly. The things he could have done... ((... not in that way *pokes* Sicko))
Shy sighed. "Your father was dead at birth." he corrected. "If you remember, I never said that your parents" he stressed the duality "Were dead. I said that I was the only family left to you since your birth." And...well, a bunch of other things. But he had never lied outright in her mind. He had learnt _that_ lesson a long time ago. "And I wasn't lying." he walked over to her, enough to keep his distance because he didn't want to see her flinch away. That would be too much.
"Roah." he said gently. "You know my work. You know what I do, you've helped me enough and you know that what ever I do create, I do love." he said this, reminding her. How many times as a child had he left her in the lab, watching over her while dealing with his experiments?
Well, none actually. But that wasn't the point.
"When it comes to my work, I'm fair. I don't lie" (unless it's important) "I don't cheat" (unless my life is on the line) "and I don't do less than my best." (unless that was the whole point.)
"This woman is your mother." he said. But surely, if the woman who had donated genetics was his mother, and he had 'birthed' Roah, Shy would be her mother as well? ((XD OOOH, the HORROOR))
And then he turned to Rugan.
"I wouldn't have cheated you." he said quietly. "I wouldn't have given you a half bred doll, and I created the perfect child for you. All I wanted was something to research with.
You know my reputation, Rugan. You know I can unleash creatures that can build or ruin the world if I wanted to. I'm not just a scientist any more, and even if this didn't act as a threat, I would have thought of all people, you would know that reputations aren't everything.
I'm not just a scientist, but I AM one of the best. I wanted something in exchange for your daughter's creation. I wanted a sample of blood that I could have studied, could have used in my own creations or copy. You knew very well what the bargain entailed.
You don't know the full extent of what I can do, and yet you double crossed me.
I don't deal with people who lie to me, who take what I create and give nothing in return, and then claim it for themselves. Rugan is your daughter, she is yours, and if she has children she'll pass on your genes. But she is mine as well." The entire time his words had been soft, that same cloying quality to them. But it suddenly hardened. "She's my child as well."
In the end, they all were.
"When you ran off with my child without giving any payment, and then dared to claim that she was yours from the thought, I stole her back." his eyes flickered to Roah. "I stole you back from her, because I don't trust a woman like that to raise a perfectly good daughter. So I raised you myself."
He didn't think he had enough time to go through the finer points.
"I raised you, allowed you to grow to your full potential without the influence of your mother." he said simply. "Go back with her, if you want. Catch up on lost hours. But you've known me long enough to know how seriously I take my work. I wasn't going to lose it because one woman couldn't face the fact that she'd made a deal with me."
People hated him all the time.
Why couldn't they just deal with it?
***
"Who's here?"
'I...'
"Tell me."
'It's Mystic.' the voice confessed.
"...what?"
'The--"
"I know what she is, dammit. Why is she here?"
'Personal business?'
"It doesn't get much personal than this."
'Go to sleep.'
"But--"
'Maramia.'
"Fine, fine..."
If she had known...
Ah, but such a lie. She would probably have still done all of this.
"I'm sorry." she said these words in the quiet, and got up, moving around the room. I'm sorry. But to who? Shy? Mystic? Her daughter?
'Naeodin' Sasiath's voice came from the darkness, and the aging woman walked over to turn off the lights. She was alone now. 'Naeodin, you can't undo this. None of us can. Why don't we just go away, just the two of us for a little vacation? You weren't supposed to be working for so long...'
Naeodin smiled, but it was bitter. "A vacation" she sighed. When had she had one of those in such a long time? "We have things to do, dear heart. People to see..." she walked out of the room, a plan forming in the dredges of her mind. "Come. Soon, we'll go visit somewhere nice and balmly after we get this done."
***
Shy smiled ironically. "I wish I was." After all, she was beautiful. Deadly. The things he could have done... ((... not in that way *pokes* Sicko))
Shy sighed. "Your father was dead at birth." he corrected. "If you remember, I never said that your parents" he stressed the duality "Were dead. I said that I was the only family left to you since your birth." And...well, a bunch of other things. But he had never lied outright in her mind. He had learnt _that_ lesson a long time ago. "And I wasn't lying." he walked over to her, enough to keep his distance because he didn't want to see her flinch away. That would be too much.
"Roah." he said gently. "You know my work. You know what I do, you've helped me enough and you know that what ever I do create, I do love." he said this, reminding her. How many times as a child had he left her in the lab, watching over her while dealing with his experiments?
Well, none actually. But that wasn't the point.
"When it comes to my work, I'm fair. I don't lie" (unless it's important) "I don't cheat" (unless my life is on the line) "and I don't do less than my best." (unless that was the whole point.)
"This woman is your mother." he said. But surely, if the woman who had donated genetics was his mother, and he had 'birthed' Roah, Shy would be her mother as well? ((XD OOOH, the HORROOR))
And then he turned to Rugan.
"I wouldn't have cheated you." he said quietly. "I wouldn't have given you a half bred doll, and I created the perfect child for you. All I wanted was something to research with.
You know my reputation, Rugan. You know I can unleash creatures that can build or ruin the world if I wanted to. I'm not just a scientist any more, and even if this didn't act as a threat, I would have thought of all people, you would know that reputations aren't everything.
I'm not just a scientist, but I AM one of the best. I wanted something in exchange for your daughter's creation. I wanted a sample of blood that I could have studied, could have used in my own creations or copy. You knew very well what the bargain entailed.
You don't know the full extent of what I can do, and yet you double crossed me.
I don't deal with people who lie to me, who take what I create and give nothing in return, and then claim it for themselves. Rugan is your daughter, she is yours, and if she has children she'll pass on your genes. But she is mine as well." The entire time his words had been soft, that same cloying quality to them. But it suddenly hardened. "She's my child as well."
In the end, they all were.
"When you ran off with my child without giving any payment, and then dared to claim that she was yours from the thought, I stole her back." his eyes flickered to Roah. "I stole you back from her, because I don't trust a woman like that to raise a perfectly good daughter. So I raised you myself."
He didn't think he had enough time to go through the finer points.
"I raised you, allowed you to grow to your full potential without the influence of your mother." he said simply. "Go back with her, if you want. Catch up on lost hours. But you've known me long enough to know how seriously I take my work. I wasn't going to lose it because one woman couldn't face the fact that she'd made a deal with me."
People hated him all the time.
Why couldn't they just deal with it?
***
"Who's here?"
'I...'
"Tell me."
'It's Mystic.' the voice confessed.
"...what?"
'The--"
"I know what she is, dammit. Why is she here?"
'Personal business?'
"It doesn't get much personal than this."
'Go to sleep.'
"But--"
'Maramia.'
"Fine, fine..."
-
Mystic Dragon
- Great Wyrm
- Posts: 2290
- Joined: Wed Jul 06, 2005 11:37 am
- Location: Tris'Hath
- Contact:
((:3 Shy's gonna love me for this one.))
Roah felt numb. There was no other way to put it. The longer Shy talked, the colder she felt inside. As if she was slowly being drowned in a vat of ice from the feet up. When the chill reached her arms, she felt her muscles slacken and her hands drop to her sides. She didn't release her weapons, as she'd seen the other woman do, but she was scarcely ready to defend herself either. When the chill hit her face, her jaw dropped open in a disbelieving 'O'.
This must be what that other woman feels like. She thought to herself, the words fighting through a cloying fog in her mind. She wanted to laugh. If she laughed, maybe Shy would laugh too. Then all of this would be one big joke. Yet, even as her mind balked at the thought of believing his words, she knew he wasn't joking. He would never lie to her, even in jest. And that in turn meant that the woman who had been attacking her uncle, the one who now looked as if she would like nothing better then to have death claim her, was her mother. Her real mother. And if that was true, then why had she left?
"No." She mumbled over Shy's continued tirade. Now he was directing his smug look and smooth words at the woman on the floor. Rugan, he'd called her. "No, this- this isn't right. She can't be. I can't... I'm not..." She sought out her uncle's gaze, wordlessly imploring him for the truth. "I'm not one of your... your creatures... am I?"
But he had already answered that for her. Then he went on, addressing her this time. Her mind reeled from the words he spoke. Thirteen years she'd spent in this place, only to find out now that she was just another test tube project. One that this woman had paid for in blood. The wrong blood. She'd tried to cheat her uncle, and so Roah had grown up believing her parents had died.
Rugan opened her mouth to respond, yet no words came out. There was so much she wanted to say, to Shy and Roah both, but her tongue had frozen to the bottom of her mouth. She could barely breath let alone speak. Again she tried to force sound past her windpipes, but this time she was interrupted by something external.
A shimmering distortion of light was the first indication that the Red Mage had arrived. Faust noticed it immediately and his grin doubled in size. He reached into his pocket for one of the many needles he liked to carry around, but before he could even grasp one he sensed something odd in the air.
Mystic had fully formed in the room, having taken only a minute to cast her spell and see it through to its completion. She stood a few paces behind Shy, her hand outstretched and her long fingers directed at Faust. A cold, loathsome expression covered her face, unbroken even by a spoken word. Long ago she had mastered the art of spellcasting without action or words. The actions just made things more dramatic.
Faust slumped to the ground noiselessly. Had they been able to see his eyes, they would have noticed the look of shock and anger that burned within their depths; seconds before they closed in magically enduced slumber.
Roah watched in growing panic as a woman appeared out of thin air and pointed her hand at a white coated man behind the other woman... her mother. The man looked vaguely familiar but she couldn't recall from where. His lightless black goggles reminded her of a nightmarish apparaition from the night before. Yet he was without the cadavarous grin or pointed teeth of the creature in her dreams. She didn't pause long to think on it.
While the red woman had the other two distracted, Roah did the one thing she knew would help her to cope. She ran.
Mystic turned away from Faust's limp figure in time to see a flash of ebony hair and mocha skin dart through the far doors. Once again, the swinging attachments banged into the far walls, but her push was hardly strong enough to leave a mark. Rugan looked towards Roah's retreating back as well, half caught between chasing after her or using this moment to separate Shy's head from his shoulders.
"Go after her." Mystic commanded in a crisp tone. It took Rugan a matter of seconds to obey. Catching up her two axes, she charged through the still swinging doors and tried to overtake her panicking daughter. As soon as they had gone, Mystic turned a cold, calculated stare on Shy.
"Shy," she addressed him in the same icy tone, "a word."
Roah felt numb. There was no other way to put it. The longer Shy talked, the colder she felt inside. As if she was slowly being drowned in a vat of ice from the feet up. When the chill reached her arms, she felt her muscles slacken and her hands drop to her sides. She didn't release her weapons, as she'd seen the other woman do, but she was scarcely ready to defend herself either. When the chill hit her face, her jaw dropped open in a disbelieving 'O'.
This must be what that other woman feels like. She thought to herself, the words fighting through a cloying fog in her mind. She wanted to laugh. If she laughed, maybe Shy would laugh too. Then all of this would be one big joke. Yet, even as her mind balked at the thought of believing his words, she knew he wasn't joking. He would never lie to her, even in jest. And that in turn meant that the woman who had been attacking her uncle, the one who now looked as if she would like nothing better then to have death claim her, was her mother. Her real mother. And if that was true, then why had she left?
"No." She mumbled over Shy's continued tirade. Now he was directing his smug look and smooth words at the woman on the floor. Rugan, he'd called her. "No, this- this isn't right. She can't be. I can't... I'm not..." She sought out her uncle's gaze, wordlessly imploring him for the truth. "I'm not one of your... your creatures... am I?"
But he had already answered that for her. Then he went on, addressing her this time. Her mind reeled from the words he spoke. Thirteen years she'd spent in this place, only to find out now that she was just another test tube project. One that this woman had paid for in blood. The wrong blood. She'd tried to cheat her uncle, and so Roah had grown up believing her parents had died.
Rugan opened her mouth to respond, yet no words came out. There was so much she wanted to say, to Shy and Roah both, but her tongue had frozen to the bottom of her mouth. She could barely breath let alone speak. Again she tried to force sound past her windpipes, but this time she was interrupted by something external.
A shimmering distortion of light was the first indication that the Red Mage had arrived. Faust noticed it immediately and his grin doubled in size. He reached into his pocket for one of the many needles he liked to carry around, but before he could even grasp one he sensed something odd in the air.
Mystic had fully formed in the room, having taken only a minute to cast her spell and see it through to its completion. She stood a few paces behind Shy, her hand outstretched and her long fingers directed at Faust. A cold, loathsome expression covered her face, unbroken even by a spoken word. Long ago she had mastered the art of spellcasting without action or words. The actions just made things more dramatic.
Faust slumped to the ground noiselessly. Had they been able to see his eyes, they would have noticed the look of shock and anger that burned within their depths; seconds before they closed in magically enduced slumber.
Roah watched in growing panic as a woman appeared out of thin air and pointed her hand at a white coated man behind the other woman... her mother. The man looked vaguely familiar but she couldn't recall from where. His lightless black goggles reminded her of a nightmarish apparaition from the night before. Yet he was without the cadavarous grin or pointed teeth of the creature in her dreams. She didn't pause long to think on it.
While the red woman had the other two distracted, Roah did the one thing she knew would help her to cope. She ran.
Mystic turned away from Faust's limp figure in time to see a flash of ebony hair and mocha skin dart through the far doors. Once again, the swinging attachments banged into the far walls, but her push was hardly strong enough to leave a mark. Rugan looked towards Roah's retreating back as well, half caught between chasing after her or using this moment to separate Shy's head from his shoulders.
"Go after her." Mystic commanded in a crisp tone. It took Rugan a matter of seconds to obey. Catching up her two axes, she charged through the still swinging doors and tried to overtake her panicking daughter. As soon as they had gone, Mystic turned a cold, calculated stare on Shy.
"Shy," she addressed him in the same icy tone, "a word."
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((dips hand into Sil's popcorn bucket. "oh Shy's gonna get it!" I am *unblinking* in awe at this scene guys. great work.))
Author of Repurposed
kshau-protectorate.com
kshau-protectorate.com
Shy arched a brow. humans. He tried so hard to understand them, but they could be so frivolous, weak.
Well, maybe when she came back, he'll try to explain things again. Was there something missing between their brain connections that made them so... silly?
"Very well, Mystic." he said simply, a slight drawl to his words as he watched her, calm. He behaved the way he always did, as if a creature hadn't run out of his room...
But Roah.
He was so disappointed in her.
And he wasn't going to keep quiet about _that_.
Moving around the room and pouring himself some tea that had been steeping for the past three hours, he smiled, arching a brow.
"Yes?" he asked.
((have to go to work--- ieeee, but couldn't help myself. XD))
Well, maybe when she came back, he'll try to explain things again. Was there something missing between their brain connections that made them so... silly?
"Very well, Mystic." he said simply, a slight drawl to his words as he watched her, calm. He behaved the way he always did, as if a creature hadn't run out of his room...
But Roah.
He was so disappointed in her.
And he wasn't going to keep quiet about _that_.
Moving around the room and pouring himself some tea that had been steeping for the past three hours, he smiled, arching a brow.
"Yes?" he asked.
((have to go to work--- ieeee, but couldn't help myself. XD))
-
Mystic Dragon
- Great Wyrm
- Posts: 2290
- Joined: Wed Jul 06, 2005 11:37 am
- Location: Tris'Hath
- Contact:
((Rugan and Roah interaction comes in bits! 
All the more fun for suspense!))
Mystic watched Shy in the way that a hidden predator stalks its prey. She stood perfectly still, her staff pointed vertically towards the ceiling. The only thing that moved were the black pits of her eyes, which followed Shy where ever he went, as if tied to him by a string.
Her mind was working overtime while her body played the part of a marble statue. She had to get control of the situation. Why? Because control was something she held to possessively. No matter the situation, no matter the stakes, Mystic was always in control. In this instance, it was made all the more important due to the fact that she was already in Shy's domain. He had the home turf advantage.
"Have a seat." She said at last, her hand sweeping fluidly forward. At her beckoning, a table and two chairs materialized out of thin air. The objects came from another part of Shy's laboratory, which he would likely know by looking at them, but it was Mystic's magic that had summoned them forth. She knew Shy would not be impressed by her simple display of prestidigitation. However, it didn't hurt to remind him that she had such power at hand.
Mystic dropped gracefully into one of the chairs, one knee folding over the other and her staff coming to rest against the arm. Long, bejeweled fingers danced through the air again, this time calling up a bottle of fine, red wine and a flute-necked glass. She used her own manpower to pour herself a glass of the dark liquid as she waited for Shy to join her.
"I believe you and I have some important matters to discuss." The Red Mage went on, sipping delicately at her glass. "You see, from the moment Roah breathed her first breath of Tris'Hathian air, she became one of my subjects. Yet you seem to believe that she belongs just as legally to you."
* * *
Roah burst through the entrance hall doors of the Vella Crean, feeling the impact shudder down her arms even as she charged onwards. Her lungs ached already and her heart felt as if it would leap from her chest at any second. Its wild beating resounded in her ears and pulsated in her temples. The ground abused her feet with each shocking blow. The boots she had chosen that morning were light and supple leather meant for indoor use. They could not stand up to the vigerous workout she was putting them through now.
Vaguely she heard the doors slam open again as the other woman followed her. Her dream came back in vivid detail with Rugan playing the part of the shadow. She even smelled the same as the dream woman. Yet, in the dream, she had always been a passive presence. One to which Roah had wanted to cling to. Now she was the painful reminder of a conversation she wished to forget. If she could just escape for a little while, maybe when she returned everything would be back to normal. Roah bent her head down and pumped her arms in tandum to the quick pushes made by her leg muscles, driving her a little faster towards a place she could not name.
"Roah!" Rugan huffed, her eyes rivetted to the lithe shadow streaming ahead of her. She was the stronger by far, but Roah was the faster. Her imagined years of training had left marks in her supple build and lengthy endurance. Rugan could not keep up.
Dammit, stop her! She bellowed frantically to her bonds. Their awareness touched hers, dipping into the events that had just transpired and taking from them the needed information. Porth's dark threads and molten temper rose to the surface first. Had she time to consider it, she would have been surprised at the vehemence with which Porth reacted.
One minute, Roah was tearing across the open field with barely a thought as to where she was going, only knowing that she had to get away. The next, she found herself staring into two pits of glowing red embers embedded in a shadow that blotted out the night sky. She screamed, her momentum killed in an instant. Too late to salvage her balance, the young, raven-haired beauty tumbled to the ground and landed with a sound thud on her side.
"Roah!" Rugan cried again, a new energy surging through her veins. She increased her speed despite having already reached her limits and raced to the aid of her fallen daughter.
All the more fun for suspense!))Mystic watched Shy in the way that a hidden predator stalks its prey. She stood perfectly still, her staff pointed vertically towards the ceiling. The only thing that moved were the black pits of her eyes, which followed Shy where ever he went, as if tied to him by a string.
Her mind was working overtime while her body played the part of a marble statue. She had to get control of the situation. Why? Because control was something she held to possessively. No matter the situation, no matter the stakes, Mystic was always in control. In this instance, it was made all the more important due to the fact that she was already in Shy's domain. He had the home turf advantage.
"Have a seat." She said at last, her hand sweeping fluidly forward. At her beckoning, a table and two chairs materialized out of thin air. The objects came from another part of Shy's laboratory, which he would likely know by looking at them, but it was Mystic's magic that had summoned them forth. She knew Shy would not be impressed by her simple display of prestidigitation. However, it didn't hurt to remind him that she had such power at hand.
Mystic dropped gracefully into one of the chairs, one knee folding over the other and her staff coming to rest against the arm. Long, bejeweled fingers danced through the air again, this time calling up a bottle of fine, red wine and a flute-necked glass. She used her own manpower to pour herself a glass of the dark liquid as she waited for Shy to join her.
"I believe you and I have some important matters to discuss." The Red Mage went on, sipping delicately at her glass. "You see, from the moment Roah breathed her first breath of Tris'Hathian air, she became one of my subjects. Yet you seem to believe that she belongs just as legally to you."
* * *
Roah burst through the entrance hall doors of the Vella Crean, feeling the impact shudder down her arms even as she charged onwards. Her lungs ached already and her heart felt as if it would leap from her chest at any second. Its wild beating resounded in her ears and pulsated in her temples. The ground abused her feet with each shocking blow. The boots she had chosen that morning were light and supple leather meant for indoor use. They could not stand up to the vigerous workout she was putting them through now.
Vaguely she heard the doors slam open again as the other woman followed her. Her dream came back in vivid detail with Rugan playing the part of the shadow. She even smelled the same as the dream woman. Yet, in the dream, she had always been a passive presence. One to which Roah had wanted to cling to. Now she was the painful reminder of a conversation she wished to forget. If she could just escape for a little while, maybe when she returned everything would be back to normal. Roah bent her head down and pumped her arms in tandum to the quick pushes made by her leg muscles, driving her a little faster towards a place she could not name.
"Roah!" Rugan huffed, her eyes rivetted to the lithe shadow streaming ahead of her. She was the stronger by far, but Roah was the faster. Her imagined years of training had left marks in her supple build and lengthy endurance. Rugan could not keep up.
Dammit, stop her! She bellowed frantically to her bonds. Their awareness touched hers, dipping into the events that had just transpired and taking from them the needed information. Porth's dark threads and molten temper rose to the surface first. Had she time to consider it, she would have been surprised at the vehemence with which Porth reacted.
One minute, Roah was tearing across the open field with barely a thought as to where she was going, only knowing that she had to get away. The next, she found herself staring into two pits of glowing red embers embedded in a shadow that blotted out the night sky. She screamed, her momentum killed in an instant. Too late to salvage her balance, the young, raven-haired beauty tumbled to the ground and landed with a sound thud on her side.
"Roah!" Rugan cried again, a new energy surging through her veins. She increased her speed despite having already reached her limits and raced to the aid of her fallen daughter.
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Someone watched Roah.
But it didn't matter. They were just watching after her.
***
Shy watched, acknowledged the display of power for what it was. It wasn't supposed to impress, he knew that and so he smiled. He should after all, appreciate anything she did. Faust was... well, respectful of her, and he trusted his companion on this.
"Thank you." his words held a note of irony. His tea in one hand, a tray in the other, he bought it forewords and set it in front of both of them, offering her something to eat with a arch of a brow.
And then he sighed.
"Mystic." he said, using her name not to invade privacy, but... well, the situation called for it. Maybe one day, soon he'd laugh over his with Faust, cuddled near the fire...
No, it wasn't time to think about cuddling.
Especially with the way Mystic was watching him.
Honestly, if he wasn't Shy, he'd have... well, no staying power in front of _that_.
"I am a scientist, Mystic. You are a mage, and a ruler. We see things differently, but it's not that my black is your white. Merely, it takes more thought to reach the same conclusions." he took a sip of tea. "Roah is the daughter of Rugan. Since Rugan is a Tris'Hathian resident, this also makes her a citizen. Roah was supposed to grow up at Tris' Hath, and so yes. She is a citizen to Tris' Hath." he tilted his head.
"But that's not all of it, Mystic. I created her. You see, from the moment Roah breathed her first breath of Vella Creanian air, she became one of my subjects as well."
He paused, did that annoying brow arching thing again, and leaned back. "We can figure this out between us. We can reach a conclusion. But we both know it's up to her. If you treat this as citizenship, we both know that many, many people hold dualness." setting the cup down, placing his hands on his lap in a very simple, almost submissive manner, he watched her.
"But are you really here to argue with me about where she belongs?" his tone was light. "Rugan didn't tell you what our meeting was about. She didn't tell you our deal. But now, you know." he paused, checking the facts and nodded to himself. Yes, she knew. "What do you want?"
It was odd, how Shy seemed to cope. His voice was not aggresive, but simply a statement. What do you want?
But it didn't matter. They were just watching after her.
***
Shy watched, acknowledged the display of power for what it was. It wasn't supposed to impress, he knew that and so he smiled. He should after all, appreciate anything she did. Faust was... well, respectful of her, and he trusted his companion on this.
"Thank you." his words held a note of irony. His tea in one hand, a tray in the other, he bought it forewords and set it in front of both of them, offering her something to eat with a arch of a brow.
And then he sighed.
"Mystic." he said, using her name not to invade privacy, but... well, the situation called for it. Maybe one day, soon he'd laugh over his with Faust, cuddled near the fire...
No, it wasn't time to think about cuddling.
Especially with the way Mystic was watching him.
Honestly, if he wasn't Shy, he'd have... well, no staying power in front of _that_.
"I am a scientist, Mystic. You are a mage, and a ruler. We see things differently, but it's not that my black is your white. Merely, it takes more thought to reach the same conclusions." he took a sip of tea. "Roah is the daughter of Rugan. Since Rugan is a Tris'Hathian resident, this also makes her a citizen. Roah was supposed to grow up at Tris' Hath, and so yes. She is a citizen to Tris' Hath." he tilted his head.
"But that's not all of it, Mystic. I created her. You see, from the moment Roah breathed her first breath of Vella Creanian air, she became one of my subjects as well."
He paused, did that annoying brow arching thing again, and leaned back. "We can figure this out between us. We can reach a conclusion. But we both know it's up to her. If you treat this as citizenship, we both know that many, many people hold dualness." setting the cup down, placing his hands on his lap in a very simple, almost submissive manner, he watched her.
"But are you really here to argue with me about where she belongs?" his tone was light. "Rugan didn't tell you what our meeting was about. She didn't tell you our deal. But now, you know." he paused, checking the facts and nodded to himself. Yes, she knew. "What do you want?"
It was odd, how Shy seemed to cope. His voice was not aggresive, but simply a statement. What do you want?
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Mystic Dragon
- Great Wyrm
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Mystic smiled in that coy, mysterious way that only she could manage. One corner of her rose lips turned upwards, the other remaining perfectly straight. Long, dark gold lashes dipped over her metallic eyes and cast a shadow to their unnatural luster. She looked youthful and aged at once, full of the impish delight of a child and the wisdom of years gone by. Gracefully she brought the crystal glass of fine, red liquid to her lips once more.
The blend she had chosen was a particular favourite of hers; Iceberry elven wine. It was made by the Ice Elves in the high, Northern reaches of the Dragon Tooth Mountains. She liked it for two reasons. The first was that the elves of the North had little to survive on. What sustanence they could find from the land they bled for every last drop. She admired their perseverence in the face of defeat, and the fact that they could literally squeeze blood from a stone. The second reason was the pride with which they treated what supplies they could gain. Iceberry wine had a fruity body and a flavourful after-taste with just enough alcoholic content to make one cheery without being drunk. Mystic was notorious for being a cheap drunk, so weak wines suited her best.
Shy, of course, knew none of this.
"You are very perceptive." She opened with a compliment, twirling the narrow flute of the glass between two fingertips. "What I want is very simple, but I believe it would be best explained with a metaphor." She did very much love metaphors. "Think of us, Shy, as wolves. I am the Alpha of a pack. Rugan, Roah, all the residents of the Warren and all the subjects of Lanutha, they are my pack. You, on the other hand, are a lone wolf sniffing at my territory. Do you know what happens to lone wolves that threaten the territory of a pack?" The Red Mage leaned back in her seat, regarding Shy with a casual air that betrayed nothing of the portent of her message. She grasped her glass in one hand by its rim and carried it carefuly over the table top. A fly had landed on the clean, white surface in the time that she had been talking. It was busy cleaning its wings, unawares of the shadow looming over its fragile body until it was too late. The clear glass bottom crushed the little bug beneath its weight, given even more strength by Mystic's guiding hand.
"They are killed." She continued without waiting for Shy's response. Her eyes darted up from the demise of the innocent fly and fixated on those that stared across the table at her. She leaned in a fraction of an inch, all the pleasentness in her voice suddenly evaporating. "You know as well as I do that I can do nothing to you here. My own laws prevent it. However, if you should set foot on Tris'Hath again, you will be killed. Without trial, question or regret. That is my promise to you, Shy, for having disturbed my pack."
A flicker of something dark and dangerous passed through the Red Mage's eyes. Older than herself, older than time, it peered out through the windows of her soul and gazed deeply into Shy's own. Greedily, it lay in wait.
* * *
Rugan dropped to her knees beside the crumpled figure of her daughter. Her weapons had been replaced in their holsters on her back as she waited impatiently for the elevator to reach the top level. Now that her hands were free, she tried using them to cradle the small figure close to her.
"Get away from me!" Roah shrieked in a shirll voice. A small hand flew through the air, knocking away both of Rugan's larger ones. She flipped onto her back side and scrambled as far away from the shadowy woman as she could. Only when her back came up against a warm, rough surface did she stop. Only then did she realize that it had been a dragon that had frightened her. Now there were three of them, all looking down on her like the eyes of three curious gods.
"Roah, listen to me." Rugan pleaded, splaying her hands out to either side of her. She didn't know what else to do. "I jus' wanna help."
"Help?!" Shrilled the panicked girl. "You could have helped by never showing up here! You could have helped by staying far away so that I'd never have to believe you were alive! I was happy here!"
"Ye were only here for a few hours!" Rugan retorted in a roar that overcame Roah's higher tone. Only thirteen and already she had the voice of an angel. It broke Rugan's heart to hear it used against her.
Yet after that revelation, Roah fell silent. She stared across the night-shrouded grassy plain to her birth mother, her jaw hanging open in shock. She could scarcely believe that her own uncle would tamper with her that much, and yet she had too much evidence against him already.
"No." She murmured in a voice that threatened tears. "No... I- I've been here for thirteen years. I remember..." She hiccuped, feeling the first hot prick of tears in her eyes. Soon they were rolling down her cheeks in quick, pearly rivers. "I... I lived here. I know the p- people. I'm not... I'm not a... I don't want to be a freak." The last sentence was barely audible, for it broke too often around her wracking sobs.
Rugan edged forward across the ground until she was barely inches away from Roah. Then there was no space between them, the burly blacksmith's arms wrapping tightly around the shaking shoulders of her daughter.
"Shh..." She whispered into her hair, rocking her with the slow, rhythmic motions she had used only hours ago. Had it been so short a time since she'd held Roah as a babe in her arms? Already that dream was gone. "Shh... it's okay now." Rugan repeated, and was relieved to feel Roah pressing into her touch.
The blend she had chosen was a particular favourite of hers; Iceberry elven wine. It was made by the Ice Elves in the high, Northern reaches of the Dragon Tooth Mountains. She liked it for two reasons. The first was that the elves of the North had little to survive on. What sustanence they could find from the land they bled for every last drop. She admired their perseverence in the face of defeat, and the fact that they could literally squeeze blood from a stone. The second reason was the pride with which they treated what supplies they could gain. Iceberry wine had a fruity body and a flavourful after-taste with just enough alcoholic content to make one cheery without being drunk. Mystic was notorious for being a cheap drunk, so weak wines suited her best.
Shy, of course, knew none of this.
"You are very perceptive." She opened with a compliment, twirling the narrow flute of the glass between two fingertips. "What I want is very simple, but I believe it would be best explained with a metaphor." She did very much love metaphors. "Think of us, Shy, as wolves. I am the Alpha of a pack. Rugan, Roah, all the residents of the Warren and all the subjects of Lanutha, they are my pack. You, on the other hand, are a lone wolf sniffing at my territory. Do you know what happens to lone wolves that threaten the territory of a pack?" The Red Mage leaned back in her seat, regarding Shy with a casual air that betrayed nothing of the portent of her message. She grasped her glass in one hand by its rim and carried it carefuly over the table top. A fly had landed on the clean, white surface in the time that she had been talking. It was busy cleaning its wings, unawares of the shadow looming over its fragile body until it was too late. The clear glass bottom crushed the little bug beneath its weight, given even more strength by Mystic's guiding hand.
"They are killed." She continued without waiting for Shy's response. Her eyes darted up from the demise of the innocent fly and fixated on those that stared across the table at her. She leaned in a fraction of an inch, all the pleasentness in her voice suddenly evaporating. "You know as well as I do that I can do nothing to you here. My own laws prevent it. However, if you should set foot on Tris'Hath again, you will be killed. Without trial, question or regret. That is my promise to you, Shy, for having disturbed my pack."
A flicker of something dark and dangerous passed through the Red Mage's eyes. Older than herself, older than time, it peered out through the windows of her soul and gazed deeply into Shy's own. Greedily, it lay in wait.
* * *
Rugan dropped to her knees beside the crumpled figure of her daughter. Her weapons had been replaced in their holsters on her back as she waited impatiently for the elevator to reach the top level. Now that her hands were free, she tried using them to cradle the small figure close to her.
"Get away from me!" Roah shrieked in a shirll voice. A small hand flew through the air, knocking away both of Rugan's larger ones. She flipped onto her back side and scrambled as far away from the shadowy woman as she could. Only when her back came up against a warm, rough surface did she stop. Only then did she realize that it had been a dragon that had frightened her. Now there were three of them, all looking down on her like the eyes of three curious gods.
"Roah, listen to me." Rugan pleaded, splaying her hands out to either side of her. She didn't know what else to do. "I jus' wanna help."
"Help?!" Shrilled the panicked girl. "You could have helped by never showing up here! You could have helped by staying far away so that I'd never have to believe you were alive! I was happy here!"
"Ye were only here for a few hours!" Rugan retorted in a roar that overcame Roah's higher tone. Only thirteen and already she had the voice of an angel. It broke Rugan's heart to hear it used against her.
Yet after that revelation, Roah fell silent. She stared across the night-shrouded grassy plain to her birth mother, her jaw hanging open in shock. She could scarcely believe that her own uncle would tamper with her that much, and yet she had too much evidence against him already.
"No." She murmured in a voice that threatened tears. "No... I- I've been here for thirteen years. I remember..." She hiccuped, feeling the first hot prick of tears in her eyes. Soon they were rolling down her cheeks in quick, pearly rivers. "I... I lived here. I know the p- people. I'm not... I'm not a... I don't want to be a freak." The last sentence was barely audible, for it broke too often around her wracking sobs.
Rugan edged forward across the ground until she was barely inches away from Roah. Then there was no space between them, the burly blacksmith's arms wrapping tightly around the shaking shoulders of her daughter.
"Shh..." She whispered into her hair, rocking her with the slow, rhythmic motions she had used only hours ago. Had it been so short a time since she'd held Roah as a babe in her arms? Already that dream was gone. "Shh... it's okay now." Rugan repeated, and was relieved to feel Roah pressing into her touch.
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Shy sighed then.
If only he knew that she got drunk easily.
Then at least he would have been able to get some blackmail videos. ((>XD))
"Red Mage." he said quietly, purring the words. "And how am I threataning your pack?" he said. "Am I threataning it by giving one of your wolves a cub she could never have had otherwise? She could have gone to someone else. Faust, Shroeder-- but they would never have done the work I can do. Do I threaten it by giving her life? By giving her years at the Vella Crean that isn't a lie?
Or." he steepled his fingers together, watching or.
"Or do I threaten your" he stressed the word. "Pack, by asking for something you are not willing to give? It's a good metaphor, red mage. But I see it as something else.
I see it as a business arrangement. I gave Rugan something someone else might have been able to give her, but something that she did not _need_. Oh, it'll make her life more perfect, but she could have lived without Roah. I gave her this for something in exchange.
I have not hurt anyone yet.
I have not ruined someones life, or given pain that was not deserved." he tilted his head.
And by gods, he was going to get his sample.
If only he knew that she got drunk easily.
Then at least he would have been able to get some blackmail videos. ((>XD))
"Red Mage." he said quietly, purring the words. "And how am I threataning your pack?" he said. "Am I threataning it by giving one of your wolves a cub she could never have had otherwise? She could have gone to someone else. Faust, Shroeder-- but they would never have done the work I can do. Do I threaten it by giving her life? By giving her years at the Vella Crean that isn't a lie?
Or." he steepled his fingers together, watching or.
"Or do I threaten your" he stressed the word. "Pack, by asking for something you are not willing to give? It's a good metaphor, red mage. But I see it as something else.
I see it as a business arrangement. I gave Rugan something someone else might have been able to give her, but something that she did not _need_. Oh, it'll make her life more perfect, but she could have lived without Roah. I gave her this for something in exchange.
I have not hurt anyone yet.
I have not ruined someones life, or given pain that was not deserved." he tilted his head.
And by gods, he was going to get his sample.
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Mystic Dragon
- Great Wyrm
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- Joined: Wed Jul 06, 2005 11:37 am
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((Continue with the Roah/Rugan goodness in the morning.))
Mystic smiled, but it was no more then a match to the one side that had already lifted. She didn't relinquish her slightly forward posture, nor reach again for the glass of wine. The pleasentries were over and done with.
"You threatened, my dear Shy, by asking for something that was not hers to give. In doing so, you put her in a position of stress to which her only response was to remain loyal to me. Then you stole from her the single point of happiness in her life and twisted it into your own design. No doubt Roah has some of her parents left in her and thusly will be able to see the truth from what you have shown her, but you have hurt Rugan nonetheless.
Now, as for your deal with Rugan, it is null and void. My blood is my own to give and I choose to keep it to myself. You had no right asking for it in exchange for something that you knew she would pay anything to get."
That unknown entity behind her eyes coiled around and snapped outwards, as if beating against an invisible barrier in a vain hope of escape. For a split second, her eyes flashed blue then the brightest of gold, then dulled to their original colour. There was more than one battle going on within the Mage without her knowledge. More than one reason for her to be wary of this situation.
Mystic smiled, but it was no more then a match to the one side that had already lifted. She didn't relinquish her slightly forward posture, nor reach again for the glass of wine. The pleasentries were over and done with.
"You threatened, my dear Shy, by asking for something that was not hers to give. In doing so, you put her in a position of stress to which her only response was to remain loyal to me. Then you stole from her the single point of happiness in her life and twisted it into your own design. No doubt Roah has some of her parents left in her and thusly will be able to see the truth from what you have shown her, but you have hurt Rugan nonetheless.
Now, as for your deal with Rugan, it is null and void. My blood is my own to give and I choose to keep it to myself. You had no right asking for it in exchange for something that you knew she would pay anything to get."
That unknown entity behind her eyes coiled around and snapped outwards, as if beating against an invisible barrier in a vain hope of escape. For a split second, her eyes flashed blue then the brightest of gold, then dulled to their original colour. There was more than one battle going on within the Mage without her knowledge. More than one reason for her to be wary of this situation.
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"Stole?"
His voice dropped, not in pitch but in temperature. It was brittle, hot and malicious as well as hurt at the same time. It was completely the scientist talking.
"Mystic." his voice was calm, the way you would talk to a child. "I did not steal anything. She broke her deal, I gave her Roah on one condition. That I trusted her enough to get me your blood.
Stole?
I took back what is mine to give, Mystic. I did not steal anything." his lips twisted into a mockery of his usual smile, and there was temper, somewhere in the corner of his eyes.
Well, I guess you can't get closer to hurting him than insult his genetic scruples. (Morals, blah blah-- hey, we already know about _that_)
"Mystic, you understand nothing." he spat.
"You come in here, yell at me. Blood might not have been hers to give, but don't you dare talk to me about genetics, about my work. Your blood was not hers to give, and yes, I had no right to ask for something that she would give anything for. But you? You have no right to tell me that I have twisted ANYTHING.
Have you seen Roah, Mystic? You saw a glimpse of a beautiful, strong woman. If that is me having twisted her to my own design..." he looked her up at down, the way a man might leer at a woman, but with such _cold_.
"Then I should be doing it more often.
I did not twist, anything." he said. "I gave her life. Mystic, Roah has grown up. You know as well as I do about alternate futures. All I did was pluck her memories from the future she _would_ have led, had she lived at the Vella Crean. Had she lived with me. She's grown in the way only she could. The only thing I tampered with, is that I bought her memories to present time. I bought her body, to present time.
When the sun rises, everyone here will wake up with memories of Roah. Of having seen her as a child, a toddler, a girl and a growing teen. They will remember her with their own emotions. I, remember her.
She is not freak of nature, Mystic. I do not dare criticize the way you run your world. I do not assume anything about your magic." he paused.
"I do not assume or judge you on the way the effect of the Tris' Hathian wars.
So don't you dare judge me on my work."
His voice dropped, not in pitch but in temperature. It was brittle, hot and malicious as well as hurt at the same time. It was completely the scientist talking.
"Mystic." his voice was calm, the way you would talk to a child. "I did not steal anything. She broke her deal, I gave her Roah on one condition. That I trusted her enough to get me your blood.
Stole?
I took back what is mine to give, Mystic. I did not steal anything." his lips twisted into a mockery of his usual smile, and there was temper, somewhere in the corner of his eyes.
Well, I guess you can't get closer to hurting him than insult his genetic scruples. (Morals, blah blah-- hey, we already know about _that_)
He didn't close his eyes, but he withdraw."Then you stole from her the single point of happiness in her life and twisted it into your own design."
"Mystic, you understand nothing." he spat.
"You come in here, yell at me. Blood might not have been hers to give, but don't you dare talk to me about genetics, about my work. Your blood was not hers to give, and yes, I had no right to ask for something that she would give anything for. But you? You have no right to tell me that I have twisted ANYTHING.
Have you seen Roah, Mystic? You saw a glimpse of a beautiful, strong woman. If that is me having twisted her to my own design..." he looked her up at down, the way a man might leer at a woman, but with such _cold_.
"Then I should be doing it more often.
I did not twist, anything." he said. "I gave her life. Mystic, Roah has grown up. You know as well as I do about alternate futures. All I did was pluck her memories from the future she _would_ have led, had she lived at the Vella Crean. Had she lived with me. She's grown in the way only she could. The only thing I tampered with, is that I bought her memories to present time. I bought her body, to present time.
When the sun rises, everyone here will wake up with memories of Roah. Of having seen her as a child, a toddler, a girl and a growing teen. They will remember her with their own emotions. I, remember her.
She is not freak of nature, Mystic. I do not dare criticize the way you run your world. I do not assume anything about your magic." he paused.
"I do not assume or judge you on the way the effect of the Tris' Hathian wars.
So don't you dare judge me on my work."
((Vanya of Zekira comes in and sits down, picks up a piece of this 'popcorn' stuff, finds it to his liking. "You know, I did the same thing with Ten, when he asked me to. But that was so he could get back at me for having called him imperfect. *sigh* so wrong I was...."))
Author of Repurposed
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Mystic Dragon
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"I understand nothing?" The mage responded with a growing chill to her voice. "You chose this child's life for her. You forced her onto a path she may not have chosen herself, and for what? What reason could you have had to age her as you did? That is twisted, Shy. That you could steal away her free will and consider it laudible."
The chaos behind her eyes swirling into a vicious maelstorm, threatening to break loose at any second. Then, just as suddenly, it snapped into silence. Her eyes were a softly luminous gold once more, devoid of their shared consciousness.
* * *
((All together now: ANGSTY TIME!))
Roah wept into the warm fabric of Rugan's shirt with abandon. Her hands curled up towards her head, tucking her into a fetal position and her knees pressed in towards her chest. Thick, muscular arms wrapped around her shoulders and held her tightly to the heaving chest of her shadow woman. Familiar smells filtered through her blurry senses, those of coal and fire and steaming metal. She gulped down a lungful of air, trying in vain to calm her wracking sobs. With it came a new scent, fainter then the rest but just as familiar. It was of sun-warmed scales and a heavy musk that she knew belonged to the dragon looming over them.
Despite her frazzled state, Roah took some comfort in these familiarities. She couldn't recall why her mind recognized them, but their presence settled her nerves enough to allow some logical thought.
Her world had just been turned upside down. If she was to believe everything that had just been said to her, she was not only one of Shy's creations, but one that he'd tampered with for only a few hours. She was not thirteen years old, but barely a day. The woman whom she had presumed dead years ago was now holding her as a mother would a child. She was, after all, genetically related to her. The father that she had also presumed dead was indeed so, but long before she had been 'born'.
"I'm sorry." The gruff whisper startled Roah out of her deep musings. She hiccuped but otherwise remained silent, allowing Rugan to continue. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
"Well what did you expect?" She whispered back, a chill note in her voice. Pushing herself out of Rugan's arms, she glare up into her onxy eyes. "You tried to trick him."
"I couldn't let him have what he wanted." Rugan insisted, the pain of her daughter's anger showing in the contours of her face.
"So you gave me up instead?!" Roah shouted. Her throat constricted around the words and made them hoarse, enraging her all the more.
"No!" The cry broke from Rugan's throat before Roah had even finished talking. "That bastard stole ye right out of yer crib!"
"Don't call him that! He's my uncle!"
"He ain't yer family!" The burly woman snarled back. They were now nose to nose, each glaring at the other with vehmence sparking in their unmatched eyes.
"He's more family to me then you ever were!" The second it left her lips, Roah regretted the words. She stared in shock as Rugan drew back, her face composed as if she had been just run through with a sword. The darker woman turned around, drawing her knees up to her chest and looping her thick arms around them. Her back pressed against the taloned claw of her dark brown bond and her head drooped until her eyes could see nothing but her own lap.
Roah felt suddenly cold. She hadn't realized how much warmth she had gained from Rugan's nearness, but she noticed its sudden absence. She hadn't the words necessary to remedy this situation, and so she joined Rugan in awkward silence. Neither spoke and neither looked at each other for a long time.
Overhead, the dragons stood as immobile sentinels. However long it took, they would wait for the two women to resolve their toubles.
The chaos behind her eyes swirling into a vicious maelstorm, threatening to break loose at any second. Then, just as suddenly, it snapped into silence. Her eyes were a softly luminous gold once more, devoid of their shared consciousness.
* * *
((All together now: ANGSTY TIME!))
Roah wept into the warm fabric of Rugan's shirt with abandon. Her hands curled up towards her head, tucking her into a fetal position and her knees pressed in towards her chest. Thick, muscular arms wrapped around her shoulders and held her tightly to the heaving chest of her shadow woman. Familiar smells filtered through her blurry senses, those of coal and fire and steaming metal. She gulped down a lungful of air, trying in vain to calm her wracking sobs. With it came a new scent, fainter then the rest but just as familiar. It was of sun-warmed scales and a heavy musk that she knew belonged to the dragon looming over them.
Despite her frazzled state, Roah took some comfort in these familiarities. She couldn't recall why her mind recognized them, but their presence settled her nerves enough to allow some logical thought.
Her world had just been turned upside down. If she was to believe everything that had just been said to her, she was not only one of Shy's creations, but one that he'd tampered with for only a few hours. She was not thirteen years old, but barely a day. The woman whom she had presumed dead years ago was now holding her as a mother would a child. She was, after all, genetically related to her. The father that she had also presumed dead was indeed so, but long before she had been 'born'.
"I'm sorry." The gruff whisper startled Roah out of her deep musings. She hiccuped but otherwise remained silent, allowing Rugan to continue. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
"Well what did you expect?" She whispered back, a chill note in her voice. Pushing herself out of Rugan's arms, she glare up into her onxy eyes. "You tried to trick him."
"I couldn't let him have what he wanted." Rugan insisted, the pain of her daughter's anger showing in the contours of her face.
"So you gave me up instead?!" Roah shouted. Her throat constricted around the words and made them hoarse, enraging her all the more.
"No!" The cry broke from Rugan's throat before Roah had even finished talking. "That bastard stole ye right out of yer crib!"
"Don't call him that! He's my uncle!"
"He ain't yer family!" The burly woman snarled back. They were now nose to nose, each glaring at the other with vehmence sparking in their unmatched eyes.
"He's more family to me then you ever were!" The second it left her lips, Roah regretted the words. She stared in shock as Rugan drew back, her face composed as if she had been just run through with a sword. The darker woman turned around, drawing her knees up to her chest and looping her thick arms around them. Her back pressed against the taloned claw of her dark brown bond and her head drooped until her eyes could see nothing but her own lap.
Roah felt suddenly cold. She hadn't realized how much warmth she had gained from Rugan's nearness, but she noticed its sudden absence. She hadn't the words necessary to remedy this situation, and so she joined Rugan in awkward silence. Neither spoke and neither looked at each other for a long time.
Overhead, the dragons stood as immobile sentinels. However long it took, they would wait for the two women to resolve their toubles.
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"Did you not hear me before?" he tilted his head to once side. "I aged her because even though Rugan knew that Roah was my creation, that I could do things she could only dream about-- she still dared tried to cheat me.
I may have pushed Rugan along Mystic, but she always had other choices. You cannot be so... so low" the word slipped. "As to blame me for everything that has happened."
He tilted back, seeing something in her eyes, or at least behind them, and smiled. "Mystic." his voice suddenly turned song like as he peered forewords, trying to see behind her own gaze.
"What are you hiding from me?"
His breath brushed against her face.
I may have pushed Rugan along Mystic, but she always had other choices. You cannot be so... so low" the word slipped. "As to blame me for everything that has happened."
He tilted back, seeing something in her eyes, or at least behind them, and smiled. "Mystic." his voice suddenly turned song like as he peered forewords, trying to see behind her own gaze.
"What are you hiding from me?"
His breath brushed against her face.
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Mystic Dragon
- Great Wyrm
- Posts: 2290
- Joined: Wed Jul 06, 2005 11:37 am
- Location: Tris'Hath
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A slow smile curved the corner of her mouth, devoid of any source of warmth. Her eyes became as chill as they metal they represented, and just as sharp.
"What I hide from you is none of your business. It is also why you will never gain access to what you wrongly goaded Rugan into attempting to steal." She cocked her head to the side, regarding Shy as one would a slow-witted circus freak. "You are playing with powers you don't understand, Shy. My blood, my magic, is not a thing to be toyed with. If you had gotten what you were after, you would have run the risk of destroying the world you supposedly love."
* * *
"I really fucked this up." Rugan spoke at length, her voice ragged from the onslaught of too many emotions all at once. She brought one large hand up to her face and rubbed her fingers over her brow and down the bridge of her nose. "I wanted so much te have his dream come true that I didn't think. ' Suppose Mystic would say it's one o'my faults. Dun think about nothin' that ain't got to do with war."
Roah turned a questioning look on the woman beside her. She didn't interrupt her apology, wanting to hear her words as much as Rugan needed to say them.
"He was a good man, yer father. Th'only one in the world who treated me with respect that didn't come from fear. He... we had somethin' special and when he died..." She drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. Rugan was not a woman of emotional outpourings. She hadn't cried for his death then and she wasn't about to now. "He always talked about his family and traditions. They were important ta him. Said the world talked to him and, if ye listened close enough, ye could hear it too. It'd say things about the future and its feelings. Never gave it much credit though. He said he knew ye were comin' cause every time he had te go indoors, the wind would howl and blow until he came out again. Said he had ta honour it by namin' ye after it. That their ways. They're all named fer something. His name, Cree, was fer the hawk's cry that his mother said she heard the moment he was born." A sad smile quirked the edge of her mouth. "Called me his ferai. Stupid fucking traditions..."
A long silence passed between the two women, unbroken except for the ponderous breaths of the three giant creatures standing guard over them.
"I want ye ta come back with me, Roah." Rugan said at last. "I want te try being the mother I was supposed ta be. I know I've fucked it up already, but I want te try."
"This... this is my home." Roah's voice shuddered from her throat and were it for the recognizable syllables, it would have been mistaken for the gentle wind. "You said I've only been alive a day, but I remember whole years that have come and gone."
"Thanks ta him." The darker woman's lip curled up in a snarl. Yet, like a fickle flame, the anger passed quickly and her face resumed its saddened look.
"Yes, thanks to him. He raised me and cared for me, or at least I remember him doing those things. He's all the family I've ever known."
Rugan remained silent after this admission, knowing that she couldn't force Roah to return with her. She was old enough to be making her own choices by then, and if she chose to stay with Shy, Rugan would have to accept it. That did not mean, however, that she would like it. The crushing heart-ache that filled her at that moment showed in every line of her body.
"But I'd like to get to know you." Roah continued in a wavering tone. She drew in a breath when Rugan's eyes suddenly snapped up to meet hers. The shadows that night had cast into them could not hide the bright flame of hope sparking within. "I... I'll try too. If it doesn't work, though, you have to promise me you'll let me come back."
There was no need for her to speak, for her deliberations were written clearly across her face. At first she was hesitant, but slowly she came to accept Roah's proposal. After all, it was better than losing her entirely. A nearly imperceptable nod dipped Rugan's chin deeper into the shadows. Roah smiled, the first she had ever shown to this stranger that was to be her mother. Overhead, Porth rumbled approvingly.
"What I hide from you is none of your business. It is also why you will never gain access to what you wrongly goaded Rugan into attempting to steal." She cocked her head to the side, regarding Shy as one would a slow-witted circus freak. "You are playing with powers you don't understand, Shy. My blood, my magic, is not a thing to be toyed with. If you had gotten what you were after, you would have run the risk of destroying the world you supposedly love."
* * *
"I really fucked this up." Rugan spoke at length, her voice ragged from the onslaught of too many emotions all at once. She brought one large hand up to her face and rubbed her fingers over her brow and down the bridge of her nose. "I wanted so much te have his dream come true that I didn't think. ' Suppose Mystic would say it's one o'my faults. Dun think about nothin' that ain't got to do with war."
Roah turned a questioning look on the woman beside her. She didn't interrupt her apology, wanting to hear her words as much as Rugan needed to say them.
"He was a good man, yer father. Th'only one in the world who treated me with respect that didn't come from fear. He... we had somethin' special and when he died..." She drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. Rugan was not a woman of emotional outpourings. She hadn't cried for his death then and she wasn't about to now. "He always talked about his family and traditions. They were important ta him. Said the world talked to him and, if ye listened close enough, ye could hear it too. It'd say things about the future and its feelings. Never gave it much credit though. He said he knew ye were comin' cause every time he had te go indoors, the wind would howl and blow until he came out again. Said he had ta honour it by namin' ye after it. That their ways. They're all named fer something. His name, Cree, was fer the hawk's cry that his mother said she heard the moment he was born." A sad smile quirked the edge of her mouth. "Called me his ferai. Stupid fucking traditions..."
A long silence passed between the two women, unbroken except for the ponderous breaths of the three giant creatures standing guard over them.
"I want ye ta come back with me, Roah." Rugan said at last. "I want te try being the mother I was supposed ta be. I know I've fucked it up already, but I want te try."
"This... this is my home." Roah's voice shuddered from her throat and were it for the recognizable syllables, it would have been mistaken for the gentle wind. "You said I've only been alive a day, but I remember whole years that have come and gone."
"Thanks ta him." The darker woman's lip curled up in a snarl. Yet, like a fickle flame, the anger passed quickly and her face resumed its saddened look.
"Yes, thanks to him. He raised me and cared for me, or at least I remember him doing those things. He's all the family I've ever known."
Rugan remained silent after this admission, knowing that she couldn't force Roah to return with her. She was old enough to be making her own choices by then, and if she chose to stay with Shy, Rugan would have to accept it. That did not mean, however, that she would like it. The crushing heart-ache that filled her at that moment showed in every line of her body.
"But I'd like to get to know you." Roah continued in a wavering tone. She drew in a breath when Rugan's eyes suddenly snapped up to meet hers. The shadows that night had cast into them could not hide the bright flame of hope sparking within. "I... I'll try too. If it doesn't work, though, you have to promise me you'll let me come back."
There was no need for her to speak, for her deliberations were written clearly across her face. At first she was hesitant, but slowly she came to accept Roah's proposal. After all, it was better than losing her entirely. A nearly imperceptable nod dipped Rugan's chin deeper into the shadows. Roah smiled, the first she had ever shown to this stranger that was to be her mother. Overhead, Porth rumbled approvingly.
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Shy smiled, leaned over and... well, petted Mystic's nose.
Now he wanted to know even more what he could do with her blood.
"The world I have come to know will destroy itself soon anyways." he said, cold and a bit distant. "All I will do is speed up the process by a decade or two."
He _was_ going to get that vial.
But there were other pressing matters on her mind. Tilting his head as someone told him exactly what was going on, he sighed.
"I'm going to have to help someone pack, soon." he said simply. "Is there anything else you want to...talk to me about?"
((twitch, twitch))
Now he wanted to know even more what he could do with her blood.
"The world I have come to know will destroy itself soon anyways." he said, cold and a bit distant. "All I will do is speed up the process by a decade or two."
He _was_ going to get that vial.
But there were other pressing matters on her mind. Tilting his head as someone told him exactly what was going on, he sighed.
"I'm going to have to help someone pack, soon." he said simply. "Is there anything else you want to...talk to me about?"
((twitch, twitch))
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Mystic Dragon
- Great Wyrm
- Posts: 2290
- Joined: Wed Jul 06, 2005 11:37 am
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"That is all." Mystic replied with a forced smile. Shy's touch still burned on her skin and she had an unshakeable desire to scrub her face with bleach. Of course, none of this showed through her carefully prepared mask. Mystic had become a master of hidden expressions after dealing with the Council of Princes for the past decade.
She rose with her accustomed grace, sweeping her crimson robes around her shapely body. The tip of the golden staff tapped once against the floor when she moved it to a point directly between herself and Shy.
"Remember what I have told you, Shy. I will not be lenient with my laws and truthfully, I believe many would be grateful if I rid the Nexus of your presence." Her warning delivered, the Red Mage turned her back on the geneticist and marched over to where Faust's limp body still lay in a crumpled heap. She touched her foot to his knee, casting Shy a cold look over her shoulder. "And I will be taking what is mine. Good night, Shy."
A low murmur of indistinguishable words and a quick series of hand motions preceeded her departure. Once again the Red Mage seemed to meld into the very background of the room, Faust along with her. Soon, the room was empty save for Shy.
She rose with her accustomed grace, sweeping her crimson robes around her shapely body. The tip of the golden staff tapped once against the floor when she moved it to a point directly between herself and Shy.
"Remember what I have told you, Shy. I will not be lenient with my laws and truthfully, I believe many would be grateful if I rid the Nexus of your presence." Her warning delivered, the Red Mage turned her back on the geneticist and marched over to where Faust's limp body still lay in a crumpled heap. She touched her foot to his knee, casting Shy a cold look over her shoulder. "And I will be taking what is mine. Good night, Shy."
A low murmur of indistinguishable words and a quick series of hand motions preceeded her departure. Once again the Red Mage seemed to meld into the very background of the room, Faust along with her. Soon, the room was empty save for Shy.
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Shy watched her leave, arched a brow and murmured into the surroundings.
"We will really have to see about making the walls magic proof, won't we pet?" the walls might have shaken with agreement, or it might be that Shy had consumed too much sugar.
He knew that Roah would return. She had to, because she had to pack her bags. But he waited, wondering...
Well, dammit. How was he going to get the vial now?
A bit pissy now, but more like a spurned lover than a vengeful scientist, he walked over to a computer.
'And many would be very, very angry with you if you dared try anything, lover. I might have many enemies, but I have more people who need my work, than my corpse. Think before you think of jeopordizing Tris' Hath. If it could go to war once...'
Well, he wasn't about to let her have the last word.
And he needn't worry. It'd be a telepathic message.
Just...when she arrived...home.
"We will really have to see about making the walls magic proof, won't we pet?" the walls might have shaken with agreement, or it might be that Shy had consumed too much sugar.
He knew that Roah would return. She had to, because she had to pack her bags. But he waited, wondering...
Well, dammit. How was he going to get the vial now?
A bit pissy now, but more like a spurned lover than a vengeful scientist, he walked over to a computer.
'And many would be very, very angry with you if you dared try anything, lover. I might have many enemies, but I have more people who need my work, than my corpse. Think before you think of jeopordizing Tris' Hath. If it could go to war once...'
Well, he wasn't about to let her have the last word.
And he needn't worry. It'd be a telepathic message.
Just...when she arrived...home.
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Mystic Dragon
- Great Wyrm
- Posts: 2290
- Joined: Wed Jul 06, 2005 11:37 am
- Location: Tris'Hath
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Mystic appeared outside the Vella Crean in a matter of seconds. She left Faust on the ground where he had materialized, knowing full well he wasn't getting up any time soon. Her spells had only grown stronger over the years, even as her body grew weak. Myrah'Care lay on the grass nearby, her silven forearms crossed one over the other in the pose of a lounging cat. She canted her angular head to the side and fixed one starry blue eye on her rider.
~We need only wait now?~ She asked, knowing the answer already. Myrah' was always with her rider, always watching through her eyes. She had witnessed the entire exchange between the Red Mage and Shy; had also heard her rider's thoughts on what was happening on the fields not far away. Myrah could not see the action, for Ruoal', Yarpath and Porth were doing a good job of keeping the two blocked off. Yet, as Mystic reappeared by her side, two small figures slipped out of the circle of dragons and began walking back to the Crean.
Yes. They won't be long. Mystic replied in clipped tones, a note of smugness in her voice.
The two figures marched onwards, neither touching or stepping too far away. They were silent together, but it was not an uncomfortable one. Rugan towered over her daughter, already the protective shadow in which she stood. Roah yet seemed determined to prove she didn't need a guardian.
~You can't kill him, you know. Myrah's voice cut through the silence. Golden eyes turned upwards and met opaline blue.
If he sets foot on Tris'Hath again, I have to.
~Haven't we seen enough bloodshed already? The silven dam sighed gustily. Slender lines, like spiderwebs, marred the perfect metallic sheen of her hide. She was getting older and the war had taken its toll on her as well. Only her armor had kept her from scarring extensively. Mystic could not say the same, for the star-shaped scar on her shoulder was still a livid reminder of her run-in with Krent.
The Red Mage turned her eyes on the mother and daughter pair wordlessly. She watched as they disappeared through the front doors and still said nothing. Even her thoughts had gone silent, except for one sentence.
He hurt her.
Myrah' closed her eyes and dipped her head lower. The weight of this night sat heavily on her shoulders, yet another burden to be borne throughout the ages. Mystic, once forgiving of all those who crossed her, had developed a grudge.
No one hurt her family and lived to tell the tale.
~We need only wait now?~ She asked, knowing the answer already. Myrah' was always with her rider, always watching through her eyes. She had witnessed the entire exchange between the Red Mage and Shy; had also heard her rider's thoughts on what was happening on the fields not far away. Myrah could not see the action, for Ruoal', Yarpath and Porth were doing a good job of keeping the two blocked off. Yet, as Mystic reappeared by her side, two small figures slipped out of the circle of dragons and began walking back to the Crean.
Yes. They won't be long. Mystic replied in clipped tones, a note of smugness in her voice.
The two figures marched onwards, neither touching or stepping too far away. They were silent together, but it was not an uncomfortable one. Rugan towered over her daughter, already the protective shadow in which she stood. Roah yet seemed determined to prove she didn't need a guardian.
~You can't kill him, you know. Myrah's voice cut through the silence. Golden eyes turned upwards and met opaline blue.
If he sets foot on Tris'Hath again, I have to.
~Haven't we seen enough bloodshed already? The silven dam sighed gustily. Slender lines, like spiderwebs, marred the perfect metallic sheen of her hide. She was getting older and the war had taken its toll on her as well. Only her armor had kept her from scarring extensively. Mystic could not say the same, for the star-shaped scar on her shoulder was still a livid reminder of her run-in with Krent.
The Red Mage turned her eyes on the mother and daughter pair wordlessly. She watched as they disappeared through the front doors and still said nothing. Even her thoughts had gone silent, except for one sentence.
He hurt her.
Myrah' closed her eyes and dipped her head lower. The weight of this night sat heavily on her shoulders, yet another burden to be borne throughout the ages. Mystic, once forgiving of all those who crossed her, had developed a grudge.
No one hurt her family and lived to tell the tale.
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((What's Shy supposed to do? Oh well. Improvise!))
XD
Shy waited for a moment, and moved around the room. He moved into the one that was Roah's, and smiled. She would come back, eventually. Even if it was only a visit every year, she would come back. All of Shy's creatures acted like homing pidgeons, unable to resist the impulse to come _home_. Even if they had found a better one. It was one of the... 'drawbacks' of loving him so much.
Even if they weren't aware of it yet.
"She'll come home, soon." Monique, his golden Oracle spoke from the door, prophesizing something that Shy would want to know in more detail. But he didn't have time to question it. Instead, he smiled.
"I'll help her pack." he said, looking around the room. He wouldn't have to worry about being caught in her room-- he was always in here, waiting for her to reprimand her for insulting a guest, or to drag her back to her lessons when she had better things to do. He moved around listlessly and touched a bunch of things. It was not a question of what she should take-- after all, if they wanted, they could move everything.
But he wanted to keep things, things that were important, sentimental so that when she returned, she felt it all the more that she was missing... something.
Home.
"Do you want me to..." Monique asked by the door, not wanting to come in. She didn't want to know what would happen to Roah-- especially if it was bad.
Shy nodded his head. "Get him."
Monique smiled.
((Now Shy's a body snatching baby from crib stealing lecherous scientist with a penache for broody men....!! XD XD))
Above ground, something happened that would be hard to pinpoint. Nothing moved, nothing shifted and if someone had looked into Faust's mind, they would see the same unconcious mass that it had been a while ago.
In fact, it was perfect, the swtich-- because it was one thing Shy was good at. Stealing things.
The body upstairs was replaced by a lifelike decoy.
And the body that was supposed to be upstairs...
Appeared in Shy's own bedroom.
Well, where else was he supposed to put it?
XD
Shy waited for a moment, and moved around the room. He moved into the one that was Roah's, and smiled. She would come back, eventually. Even if it was only a visit every year, she would come back. All of Shy's creatures acted like homing pidgeons, unable to resist the impulse to come _home_. Even if they had found a better one. It was one of the... 'drawbacks' of loving him so much.
Even if they weren't aware of it yet.
"She'll come home, soon." Monique, his golden Oracle spoke from the door, prophesizing something that Shy would want to know in more detail. But he didn't have time to question it. Instead, he smiled.
"I'll help her pack." he said, looking around the room. He wouldn't have to worry about being caught in her room-- he was always in here, waiting for her to reprimand her for insulting a guest, or to drag her back to her lessons when she had better things to do. He moved around listlessly and touched a bunch of things. It was not a question of what she should take-- after all, if they wanted, they could move everything.
But he wanted to keep things, things that were important, sentimental so that when she returned, she felt it all the more that she was missing... something.
Home.
"Do you want me to..." Monique asked by the door, not wanting to come in. She didn't want to know what would happen to Roah-- especially if it was bad.
Shy nodded his head. "Get him."
Monique smiled.
((Now Shy's a body snatching baby from crib stealing lecherous scientist with a penache for broody men....!! XD XD))
Above ground, something happened that would be hard to pinpoint. Nothing moved, nothing shifted and if someone had looked into Faust's mind, they would see the same unconcious mass that it had been a while ago.
In fact, it was perfect, the swtich-- because it was one thing Shy was good at. Stealing things.
The body upstairs was replaced by a lifelike decoy.
And the body that was supposed to be upstairs...
Appeared in Shy's own bedroom.
Well, where else was he supposed to put it?
((Shy, who only belatedly noticed the arrival of Vanya snuggles up to him, batting his eyelashes and saying something along the lines of 'now one more thing we have in common' all the while giggling profusely and "accepting" flowers from his... uhm... fans.
*someone should tell him those flowers arrived a little too early for his funeral.*
*someone should tell him those flowers arrived a little too early for his funeral.*
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Mystic Dragon
- Great Wyrm
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- Joined: Wed Jul 06, 2005 11:37 am
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((This is the last post for now. I have more, but no time to write it in. ;_; And I apologize in advance for the writing getting crappy near the end.))
Rugan waited outside while Shy helped Roah pack. She knew that, if she saw him again, she’d kill him, and that would not be conductive to a strong relationship with her daughter. It still boiled her blood to think that he had manipulated her in that way, but there was nothing she could do. At least Roah still had part of her parents in her.
A few minutes later, the two women were striding out onto the flight fields once more. Porth, Yarpath and Ruoal’Shon had congregated around the shining point that was Myrah’Care. Even Yarpath’s copper hide paled in comparison to the grand dam of the Warren. Beside her dragoness’ elbow stood a dull flicker of flame adorned in red and gold. Only her staff pierced the dark veil of night, shining as if under a midday sun. At her feet lay the unconscious form of the Warren’s only geneticist.
"Take him." Mystic commanded, gesturing to the inert body. Rugan needed no more guidance than that.
Hoisting Faust’s body over one shoulder, the dark skinned dragon rider made ready to help Roah up onto Yarpath’s back. The large copper always gave the smoothest ride and seemed eager to accommodate anyone Rugan needed to tag along. However, when she turned around, Roah had already mounted Porth’s bulging shoulders and sat expertly over his neck ridges. Her packs she held in her lap, for Rugan never rode with a saddle. Porth rarely let anyone on his back except Rugan. The blacksmith grunted in a moment of mild surprise, appreciating the brown’s newfound protectiveness for Roah.
By the time that Rugan had vaulted up to Yarpath’s shoulders and gotten Faust’s body settled in front of her, Myrah’Care was already ascending into the sky. Ruoal’Shon was next on her tail, then Porth, and finally Yarpath’s muscles coiled and released beneath Rugan’s legs, sending them springing towards the stars. The dragons passed quick messages back and forth, communicating the exact time and place they wanted to return to. Their entire conversation took no more than a second, for the dragons could speak far quicker with one another than they could with the untrained humans. As one unit, the four dragons disappeared through the void between worlds.
Back on Tris’Hath, four sets of wings beat the humid night air into a miniature torrent near the ground. Long blades of grass bent until they were nearly parallel with the earth, only to be crushed under the clawed feet of four dragons. Most of the field had already been tramped down by the passage of hundreds of dragon feet on a daily basis. What few stalks had dared to lift their fragile heads again found their attempts thwarted by this late returning group. They lay down in defeat, unable to support their heavy burden.
The dragons moved towards the massive cavern that huddled like a sleeping beast in the midst of an age-old forest. One directed her eerily silent steps towards an entrance on the far end of one side while three others meandered in the opposite direction.
Mystic and Myrah’Care were the first to reach their den. The silven dam didn’t stop to let her rider down until she was safely within the confines of the oversized room. Once the red robed woman had slide free, she delicately picked her way over the velvet blanket that covered her bed, doing her best not to disturb her slumbering mate. The large blue was curled up in a ball in the deep depression that had formed around his body. His spaded tail draped over his long nose, the thin end shuddering with each exhaled breath. Myrah’Care curled up in her own groove and nuzzled her head into a space between his neck and shoulder. For a brief second, she imagined her life without the brooding Old Worlder. It was not a pretty future, and not one she wanted to dwell on long. The silver queen shivered slightly from an unnatural chill before banishing the thoughts from her mind. Sleep came swiftly that night, for its comforting blindness was greatly needed.
Mystic was not so fortunate as to crawl into bed with a sleeping mate. Hers sat at her desk, one foot bouncing in the air while his ankle remained firmly planted on his knee. Curled fingers tapped out a rapid rhythm on the wooden tabletop. Though she couldn’t hear them, she knew the sound they made reflexed the anxious irritation bound up in her husband’s chest.
"Where were you?" He snapped crossly once she had approached within earshot. His words were hushed but sharp, not loud enough to wake the dragons but hard enough to convey his sentiments.
"It’s a long story." Mystic whispered back, bending down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. "I need to meditate. I promise I’ll tell you everything afterwards."
Aaron’s hand darted up from the table, quicker than a bolt, and wrapped around her slender wrist. His shadowed eyes sought out her bright gold, looking for the answer that was not forthcoming.
"I promise." She repeated in an imploring whisper. His grip loosened on her wrist, giving her enough space to slip her hand free. She turned without a second’s hesitation and glided across the cavern to the inner door that lead to the first of many hallways.
No one in the Warren knew exactly where Mystic hid her shrine to the gods. Truthfully, no one cared to know. It was her private get-away within the walls of her own home and everyone know how important it was to her. Especially given circumstances such as this. There was no where else she could turn for advice, no one else she would prefer to talk to, than her beloved deities.
The room itself was small and cramped, barely large enough to allow Mystic to kneel comfortably. Golden icons of her gods adorned every wall and spilled across the floor in an awing display. Golden sconces hung on the walls, filling the air with a hazy fog. A flat, golden disk suspended on three golden chains dangled inches above the head of an ornate dragon. Over its edges peeked the long, slender ends of several incense sticks. Their ashy leavings dropped into a bowl set into the ground below, directly in front of a rug upon which Mystic could rest her knees. There she knelt, staring up at the brown-toned sticks. Their ends glowed with faint embers and a trail of silvery smoke danced through the air above. The sticks had relit themselves. The crisis was averted.
At least that would be the simple answer.
* * *
Rugan was the second to reach her destination; or at least the first of two. She strode purposefully into Faust’s domain and dropped the body on the white, shag carpet in his ‘living room’. She knew Wolfgang and Wagner would be hovering nearby, awaiting the return of their master. The sight of their simpering, sub-sentient forms filled her with the urge to tear something apart. Most likely them.
As soon as Faust’s unconscious form had been deposited, she turned around smartly and marched from the lab. She’d had enough of those places to last her a lifetime.
It wouldn’t be discovered until morning that the Faust they had returned with was not their own.
* * *
In the dark, cavernous den owned by Rugan, Roah stood uncomfortably close to the reclining dragons. Her head arched upwards and her golden hued eyes scanned the shadowed perimeter. She could see little beyond the smooth, stoney floor and the gargantuan furnace that brooded against the far wall. Red light spilled over her feet in long, glowing bars. Their squared tips illuminated a small opening set into the opposite wall. Faintly she could make out wooden splinters and broken hinges, suggesting that a door had once stood there.
One of the dragons behind her back rumbled deeply. She whirled, sharp eyes picking out the details of each curled body. Only one of the three remained awake and alert, or at least had his head up. Almond-shaped red eyes stared down at her with the same eerie glow that was cast by the forge. A beaked muzzle and two knife-like spikes marked the smallest of the three dragons as Porth. He, most of all, seemed ready to protect her at all costs.
The scent of musk produced by the Old World brown was vaguely familiar to the displaced girl. She thought she remembered it from somewhere, but couldn't place the exact location or reasoning. Also, when he lowered his angular face down to her level, she felt the same disconcerting familiarness. She'd seen his face before, and yet she could remember nothing.
"Room's this way." The sudden intrusion of a gruff, female voice made Roah nearly jump out of her skin. She clutched her satchel tightly to her shoulder and peered through the shadows. Silouetted against the forge stood the hulking figure that was supposed to be her mother. Her trail of black hair swung loosely behind her ankles, flickering with sparks of red light like the dying embers of a fire. Her face, eyes, and entire body were cast into obscuring darkness by the warm glow that backed her. It wasn't until she began moving that Roah noticed the odd point to her ears. She'd been too distraught earlier to really question it. Now, though, it seemed so out of place on a woman that would put many body builders to shame.
Roah fell into step behind the blacksmith, eyeing her back suspiciously. This whole night seemed to be born out of a nightmare. Or more specifically, her nightmare. The leering faces, the odd smells, the shadowy figure, they were all more real than she cared to admit. She had been uprooted from the home she had known for the past thirteen years and deposited in this realm of mystery and secrecy. Then there was the fact that she had apparently been tampered with, and only for a day. She hadn't thought much on that since Rugan had told her. Walking into the small, sparsely furnished bedroom, however, she was forced to face its reality.
The room looked just as it had when Rugan had left it. A broken, battered door lay against the wall. Its splintered wood stuck out at odd angles from where it had been ripped off its hinges. A deep depression in the center of the door indicated where it had buckled under Rugan's shoulder. Opposite the open archway sat a single person bed with one pillow and one flimsy blanket. Just enough for Rugan. A dresser stood at the head of the bed and supported an assortment of hair accessories and tools. There was no mirror to show the occupant how they looked in the morning or what to do to fix their complextion. There was no source of light either. Rugan dwelled in the darkness as much as she could.
Then Roah's eyes fell on the crib. Its white washed bars and pastel blankets made it an eyesore in the cramped and unlit space. It was empty, devoid of any sign that a babe had once rested within its confines.
Roah stepped lightly over to the crib, dropping her satchel off her shoulder and onto the ground. It landed with a soft thump and slouched onto its side like a drunken slob. At that moment, she couldn't care less, for her eyes were solely focussed on the empty interior of the crib. Her hands curled lightly around the top railing, feeling the sharp indents in the wood where Rugan had dug in. She gazed upon the slightly disturbed bedding and the nearly invisible imprint left in the pillow. The figure that had lain in this bed could not have been longer than her forearm.
"I used to fit in here?" She asked, her voice no more than a whisper.
"Aye." Rugan replied as she came to stand behind her daughter. One thick hand rested upon Roah's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. The girl barely seemed to notice.
A hot, prickling sensation began at the back of her eyes and quickly moved forward. She blinked and found that her lashes had moistened with tears. It was pointless to try to stop them now, so she opened the flood gates and let loose a torrent of tears that seemed to come from a bottomless well. All the confusion she'd felt that day, all the lies that had been exposed, everything came rushing back to her in a single heart-rending moment. Her shoulders shuddered from the forceful emotions and her head sagged on a neck that was too weary to hold it up anymore. Warm, secure arms wrapped around her and held her against a comforting body. The smell of forge fire and coal filtered through her nostrils, igniting half-formed memories. Roah sniffled and choked on a sob, tilting her head back into the crook of a neck that waited for her.
"Ye'll be sleeping here tonight." Rugan broke the silence only after Roah's muffled hiccups had died down. She was loath to break the embrace; the first one that Roah had entered into seeking the support of her mother and not just a stranger. However, they couldn't stand there all night. "Ye need anything, I'll be in the next room. An' dun worry," the last she said with a small catch in her voice. "yer my daughter. Always have been an' always will be. Yer human, no matter what that b- What Shy has te say." She paused again, touching her chin to Roah's cheek. "And one eighth Liron."
It took a moment for Roah to understand what the dark bodybuilder had meant by this cryptic statement, but when she did, she jerked her head back and stared in disbelief. "Did you... did you just make a joke?"
"Aye." Rugan said with a smirk, detaching her arms from around Roah's front. She waited a second longer, enjoying the laughing light in Roah's eyes, or what little she could see of them. Then, with a fond pat to her shoulder, Rugan turned and exited the bedroom.
Left alone in the dark room, Roah turned to face the single bed against the far wall. She didn't need to take more than a step to be beside it, then one more to be on it. The craggy rock dome that rose above the entire den formed a wall on its other side, filled with jutting edges and shallow recesses that collected thicker shadows than those that dominated the room. She gazed upon the desolate covers and the solitary pillow for all of one minute before turning and marching quickly through the broken doorway.
There, out in the humid darkness of the smithy, she spied the small figure of her mother bedding down in the curve of Porth's forelimbs. The spikey brown had finally lowered his head, heavy lids blocking out the luminous red light of his eyes. His deep, rumbling snores quickly joined those of his siblings. Roah had assumed such a noise would bring the roof down on their heads, but she was surprised to discover that the deep, sonorous tones of three sleeping dragons provided a nearly hypnotic atmosphere noise. Her footsteps were no more than whispers against the stone floor.
Over the years, Rugan had gotten used to sleeping in the clutches of her three bonds and one little flitter. The velvet covering on the gignatic bed of hay was quite comfortable once one got accustomed to it. After taking in an orphaned boy, becoming Battle Master to the Warren, and numerous other sleep-defying adventures, Rugan had come to think of it as more comfortable than her own bed. The only downfall was that every movement made by her bonds or herself was felt throughout the bed. Therefore, she was considerably surprised to feel movement that was neither herself or her dragons.
"Mom?" A tentative voice called into the darkness beside her ear. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"
A smile curled the corner of Rugan's lip, followed by the uncurling of her arm. She didn't bother to open her eyes while Roah crawled into the space between her chest and Porth's leg. For once, she was content to believe that this was no longer a dream. Roah was back where she belonged and that was all that mattered.
"Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you... purring?"
The smile touching Rugan's lips widened and the soft vibration in her throat doubled in intensity. She snuggled her chin into Roah's hair and held her tightly against her body. "Aye, but dun tell anyone. Ye'll ruin my reputation."
Rugan waited outside while Shy helped Roah pack. She knew that, if she saw him again, she’d kill him, and that would not be conductive to a strong relationship with her daughter. It still boiled her blood to think that he had manipulated her in that way, but there was nothing she could do. At least Roah still had part of her parents in her.
A few minutes later, the two women were striding out onto the flight fields once more. Porth, Yarpath and Ruoal’Shon had congregated around the shining point that was Myrah’Care. Even Yarpath’s copper hide paled in comparison to the grand dam of the Warren. Beside her dragoness’ elbow stood a dull flicker of flame adorned in red and gold. Only her staff pierced the dark veil of night, shining as if under a midday sun. At her feet lay the unconscious form of the Warren’s only geneticist.
"Take him." Mystic commanded, gesturing to the inert body. Rugan needed no more guidance than that.
Hoisting Faust’s body over one shoulder, the dark skinned dragon rider made ready to help Roah up onto Yarpath’s back. The large copper always gave the smoothest ride and seemed eager to accommodate anyone Rugan needed to tag along. However, when she turned around, Roah had already mounted Porth’s bulging shoulders and sat expertly over his neck ridges. Her packs she held in her lap, for Rugan never rode with a saddle. Porth rarely let anyone on his back except Rugan. The blacksmith grunted in a moment of mild surprise, appreciating the brown’s newfound protectiveness for Roah.
By the time that Rugan had vaulted up to Yarpath’s shoulders and gotten Faust’s body settled in front of her, Myrah’Care was already ascending into the sky. Ruoal’Shon was next on her tail, then Porth, and finally Yarpath’s muscles coiled and released beneath Rugan’s legs, sending them springing towards the stars. The dragons passed quick messages back and forth, communicating the exact time and place they wanted to return to. Their entire conversation took no more than a second, for the dragons could speak far quicker with one another than they could with the untrained humans. As one unit, the four dragons disappeared through the void between worlds.
Back on Tris’Hath, four sets of wings beat the humid night air into a miniature torrent near the ground. Long blades of grass bent until they were nearly parallel with the earth, only to be crushed under the clawed feet of four dragons. Most of the field had already been tramped down by the passage of hundreds of dragon feet on a daily basis. What few stalks had dared to lift their fragile heads again found their attempts thwarted by this late returning group. They lay down in defeat, unable to support their heavy burden.
The dragons moved towards the massive cavern that huddled like a sleeping beast in the midst of an age-old forest. One directed her eerily silent steps towards an entrance on the far end of one side while three others meandered in the opposite direction.
Mystic and Myrah’Care were the first to reach their den. The silven dam didn’t stop to let her rider down until she was safely within the confines of the oversized room. Once the red robed woman had slide free, she delicately picked her way over the velvet blanket that covered her bed, doing her best not to disturb her slumbering mate. The large blue was curled up in a ball in the deep depression that had formed around his body. His spaded tail draped over his long nose, the thin end shuddering with each exhaled breath. Myrah’Care curled up in her own groove and nuzzled her head into a space between his neck and shoulder. For a brief second, she imagined her life without the brooding Old Worlder. It was not a pretty future, and not one she wanted to dwell on long. The silver queen shivered slightly from an unnatural chill before banishing the thoughts from her mind. Sleep came swiftly that night, for its comforting blindness was greatly needed.
Mystic was not so fortunate as to crawl into bed with a sleeping mate. Hers sat at her desk, one foot bouncing in the air while his ankle remained firmly planted on his knee. Curled fingers tapped out a rapid rhythm on the wooden tabletop. Though she couldn’t hear them, she knew the sound they made reflexed the anxious irritation bound up in her husband’s chest.
"Where were you?" He snapped crossly once she had approached within earshot. His words were hushed but sharp, not loud enough to wake the dragons but hard enough to convey his sentiments.
"It’s a long story." Mystic whispered back, bending down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. "I need to meditate. I promise I’ll tell you everything afterwards."
Aaron’s hand darted up from the table, quicker than a bolt, and wrapped around her slender wrist. His shadowed eyes sought out her bright gold, looking for the answer that was not forthcoming.
"I promise." She repeated in an imploring whisper. His grip loosened on her wrist, giving her enough space to slip her hand free. She turned without a second’s hesitation and glided across the cavern to the inner door that lead to the first of many hallways.
No one in the Warren knew exactly where Mystic hid her shrine to the gods. Truthfully, no one cared to know. It was her private get-away within the walls of her own home and everyone know how important it was to her. Especially given circumstances such as this. There was no where else she could turn for advice, no one else she would prefer to talk to, than her beloved deities.
The room itself was small and cramped, barely large enough to allow Mystic to kneel comfortably. Golden icons of her gods adorned every wall and spilled across the floor in an awing display. Golden sconces hung on the walls, filling the air with a hazy fog. A flat, golden disk suspended on three golden chains dangled inches above the head of an ornate dragon. Over its edges peeked the long, slender ends of several incense sticks. Their ashy leavings dropped into a bowl set into the ground below, directly in front of a rug upon which Mystic could rest her knees. There she knelt, staring up at the brown-toned sticks. Their ends glowed with faint embers and a trail of silvery smoke danced through the air above. The sticks had relit themselves. The crisis was averted.
At least that would be the simple answer.
* * *
Rugan was the second to reach her destination; or at least the first of two. She strode purposefully into Faust’s domain and dropped the body on the white, shag carpet in his ‘living room’. She knew Wolfgang and Wagner would be hovering nearby, awaiting the return of their master. The sight of their simpering, sub-sentient forms filled her with the urge to tear something apart. Most likely them.
As soon as Faust’s unconscious form had been deposited, she turned around smartly and marched from the lab. She’d had enough of those places to last her a lifetime.
It wouldn’t be discovered until morning that the Faust they had returned with was not their own.
* * *
In the dark, cavernous den owned by Rugan, Roah stood uncomfortably close to the reclining dragons. Her head arched upwards and her golden hued eyes scanned the shadowed perimeter. She could see little beyond the smooth, stoney floor and the gargantuan furnace that brooded against the far wall. Red light spilled over her feet in long, glowing bars. Their squared tips illuminated a small opening set into the opposite wall. Faintly she could make out wooden splinters and broken hinges, suggesting that a door had once stood there.
One of the dragons behind her back rumbled deeply. She whirled, sharp eyes picking out the details of each curled body. Only one of the three remained awake and alert, or at least had his head up. Almond-shaped red eyes stared down at her with the same eerie glow that was cast by the forge. A beaked muzzle and two knife-like spikes marked the smallest of the three dragons as Porth. He, most of all, seemed ready to protect her at all costs.
The scent of musk produced by the Old World brown was vaguely familiar to the displaced girl. She thought she remembered it from somewhere, but couldn't place the exact location or reasoning. Also, when he lowered his angular face down to her level, she felt the same disconcerting familiarness. She'd seen his face before, and yet she could remember nothing.
"Room's this way." The sudden intrusion of a gruff, female voice made Roah nearly jump out of her skin. She clutched her satchel tightly to her shoulder and peered through the shadows. Silouetted against the forge stood the hulking figure that was supposed to be her mother. Her trail of black hair swung loosely behind her ankles, flickering with sparks of red light like the dying embers of a fire. Her face, eyes, and entire body were cast into obscuring darkness by the warm glow that backed her. It wasn't until she began moving that Roah noticed the odd point to her ears. She'd been too distraught earlier to really question it. Now, though, it seemed so out of place on a woman that would put many body builders to shame.
Roah fell into step behind the blacksmith, eyeing her back suspiciously. This whole night seemed to be born out of a nightmare. Or more specifically, her nightmare. The leering faces, the odd smells, the shadowy figure, they were all more real than she cared to admit. She had been uprooted from the home she had known for the past thirteen years and deposited in this realm of mystery and secrecy. Then there was the fact that she had apparently been tampered with, and only for a day. She hadn't thought much on that since Rugan had told her. Walking into the small, sparsely furnished bedroom, however, she was forced to face its reality.
The room looked just as it had when Rugan had left it. A broken, battered door lay against the wall. Its splintered wood stuck out at odd angles from where it had been ripped off its hinges. A deep depression in the center of the door indicated where it had buckled under Rugan's shoulder. Opposite the open archway sat a single person bed with one pillow and one flimsy blanket. Just enough for Rugan. A dresser stood at the head of the bed and supported an assortment of hair accessories and tools. There was no mirror to show the occupant how they looked in the morning or what to do to fix their complextion. There was no source of light either. Rugan dwelled in the darkness as much as she could.
Then Roah's eyes fell on the crib. Its white washed bars and pastel blankets made it an eyesore in the cramped and unlit space. It was empty, devoid of any sign that a babe had once rested within its confines.
Roah stepped lightly over to the crib, dropping her satchel off her shoulder and onto the ground. It landed with a soft thump and slouched onto its side like a drunken slob. At that moment, she couldn't care less, for her eyes were solely focussed on the empty interior of the crib. Her hands curled lightly around the top railing, feeling the sharp indents in the wood where Rugan had dug in. She gazed upon the slightly disturbed bedding and the nearly invisible imprint left in the pillow. The figure that had lain in this bed could not have been longer than her forearm.
"I used to fit in here?" She asked, her voice no more than a whisper.
"Aye." Rugan replied as she came to stand behind her daughter. One thick hand rested upon Roah's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. The girl barely seemed to notice.
A hot, prickling sensation began at the back of her eyes and quickly moved forward. She blinked and found that her lashes had moistened with tears. It was pointless to try to stop them now, so she opened the flood gates and let loose a torrent of tears that seemed to come from a bottomless well. All the confusion she'd felt that day, all the lies that had been exposed, everything came rushing back to her in a single heart-rending moment. Her shoulders shuddered from the forceful emotions and her head sagged on a neck that was too weary to hold it up anymore. Warm, secure arms wrapped around her and held her against a comforting body. The smell of forge fire and coal filtered through her nostrils, igniting half-formed memories. Roah sniffled and choked on a sob, tilting her head back into the crook of a neck that waited for her.
"Ye'll be sleeping here tonight." Rugan broke the silence only after Roah's muffled hiccups had died down. She was loath to break the embrace; the first one that Roah had entered into seeking the support of her mother and not just a stranger. However, they couldn't stand there all night. "Ye need anything, I'll be in the next room. An' dun worry," the last she said with a small catch in her voice. "yer my daughter. Always have been an' always will be. Yer human, no matter what that b- What Shy has te say." She paused again, touching her chin to Roah's cheek. "And one eighth Liron."
It took a moment for Roah to understand what the dark bodybuilder had meant by this cryptic statement, but when she did, she jerked her head back and stared in disbelief. "Did you... did you just make a joke?"
"Aye." Rugan said with a smirk, detaching her arms from around Roah's front. She waited a second longer, enjoying the laughing light in Roah's eyes, or what little she could see of them. Then, with a fond pat to her shoulder, Rugan turned and exited the bedroom.
Left alone in the dark room, Roah turned to face the single bed against the far wall. She didn't need to take more than a step to be beside it, then one more to be on it. The craggy rock dome that rose above the entire den formed a wall on its other side, filled with jutting edges and shallow recesses that collected thicker shadows than those that dominated the room. She gazed upon the desolate covers and the solitary pillow for all of one minute before turning and marching quickly through the broken doorway.
There, out in the humid darkness of the smithy, she spied the small figure of her mother bedding down in the curve of Porth's forelimbs. The spikey brown had finally lowered his head, heavy lids blocking out the luminous red light of his eyes. His deep, rumbling snores quickly joined those of his siblings. Roah had assumed such a noise would bring the roof down on their heads, but she was surprised to discover that the deep, sonorous tones of three sleeping dragons provided a nearly hypnotic atmosphere noise. Her footsteps were no more than whispers against the stone floor.
Over the years, Rugan had gotten used to sleeping in the clutches of her three bonds and one little flitter. The velvet covering on the gignatic bed of hay was quite comfortable once one got accustomed to it. After taking in an orphaned boy, becoming Battle Master to the Warren, and numerous other sleep-defying adventures, Rugan had come to think of it as more comfortable than her own bed. The only downfall was that every movement made by her bonds or herself was felt throughout the bed. Therefore, she was considerably surprised to feel movement that was neither herself or her dragons.
"Mom?" A tentative voice called into the darkness beside her ear. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"
A smile curled the corner of Rugan's lip, followed by the uncurling of her arm. She didn't bother to open her eyes while Roah crawled into the space between her chest and Porth's leg. For once, she was content to believe that this was no longer a dream. Roah was back where she belonged and that was all that mattered.
"Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you... purring?"
The smile touching Rugan's lips widened and the soft vibration in her throat doubled in intensity. She snuggled her chin into Roah's hair and held her tightly against her body. "Aye, but dun tell anyone. Ye'll ruin my reputation."
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