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In The Heart of Gravel
Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2021 2:56 am
by Taelian Edevane
3rd of Frost, Year 4621
He sat in his red velvet, dark-wood chair, hunched over a long table filled with books and scribbled notes, as well as inactive Shard Resonators, the faintly glowing blue crystals strewn about the surface. Before him was a brass-colored box with a faint blue glow emanating from within; a Transmission device, for communicating with the people back at 'home'. Lorien.
"Wendell," Taelian whispered. "I've been here for... what, several weeks, now? No meetings with Lady Ald. I've seen her a time or two, but most of my time is spent... prattling with her godsdamned courtiers in some soiree, or interacting with them as she takes audience. Never mine, though. I appear to have been 'missed' - multiple times."
He could hear an audible sigh on the other end, as his husband's voice chimed in. "She's likely trying not to make it seem like you're an important guest. If she makes you go through the same process as any other seeking her ear, your meeting won't be suspicious. A Rien dignitary -- particularly of a faction of magi -- is an interesting man. Surely people in the hall have already sought to glean your intent for being there?"
"They have," he replied. "Relentlessly. It's... stressful, to be honest." Taelian paused for a moment, taking in a breath. "How is the war -- how is Eloise holding up? And our Duke, Matthias?"
"Stagnant," said Wendell. "Eloise is fine. The Duke is fine. Things are tense -- it's been difficult to hunt with the Aether Cannon, of late. The Kindred have obscured their ether signature by entrenching themselves in the heart of Von Rabe's blizzard. In fact... it almost seems as if most of them have disappeared. Strange, isn't it?"
"Not strange," Taelian whispered. He leaned his elbows into the table, clasping his hands together beneath his chin and sighing. "We should have known. They are trying to obscure themselves -- to wait things out. Tensions are high among the people, too. The longer this becomes prolonged, the more they will beg for the return of normality. Eloise should have sent me to kill Annalise Florent."
"No, Taelian -- she would be a martyr."
"You're wrong. Catherine was a martyr. Annalise is a monster; a symbol of the worst aspects of that 'religion'. She'll just land on the guillotine eventually, anyway. Better she be dead."
"...Perhaps. I must leave, though; the Count is convening a meeting to discuss our war provisions. A number of the Knights in the West End have gone rogue, and have been leading Hollows away from their duties on the farms. We need to counter-act that; we'll probably be sending some Pact magi."
"I wish Eloise did not send me here," he frowned. "I could have handled... so much, myself. Why is she...?"
"That's precisely why, Taelian. Never outshine the master. Anyway, I must go. Farewell, love."
"Farewell," he said quietly, in reply, notably absent that word of affection. 'Love'.
As the transmission ended, he stared forward, his features twisted with a dissatisfied look. Wendell was right -- he was becoming a threat to Eloise, and that was why he was here. She did not want him to solve all of their problems. She needed to be the one to do that; Duchess Galbrecht's gaze was landing far too often on Taelian's back as a source of strength, action, even counsel.
Hours passed, and before the evening came, he was out and about in the streets of Amoren. Wearing a simple Rien garb -- a peacoat with some matching slacks, and Derby shoes -- he stepped through the cobbled streets towards the inner quarter of the city, headed towards Ardenserat. At least, he could only muse, he got to see an Elven wonder every day he attended court. Most of his kind could never have even dreamt of laying their eyes on the Autumn Refuge. He was a favored soul.
Taelian winced. Favored soul. He was reminded, again, of the birthright he had left behind. Eloise had certainly been relieved not to have a Draedan in her midst -- his power was one she envied. The moment they had found a way to sequester his Divine Spark, she had sent him away, forcing his own isolation in these distant lands. He could only imagine that it would be better to reawaken that power. Would he really die from the leaking corruption, anyhow? Draedan had vitality far greater than other men.
He glanced upward, and before he knew it, Ardenserat loomed before him; that massive behemoth of a structure, expanding outward to fill his entire view. The autumn leaves hung from every balcony, along every pillar. A faint smile curved at the edge of his lip.
"Another day," he whispered. "No more bullshit, Taelian. No more."
Re: In The Heart of Gravel
Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2021 11:04 am
by Arkash
Life, Arkash realized had a funny way of working things out. Sometimes, the paths he walked were linear, the end was nearby, ahead of him along a straight shot road. Everything went according to plan on such occasions, but more often not, the obstacles Arkash imagined might pose a threat bared their fangs, and struck him ceaselessly on his voyages from destination to destination. And after all of those had said their part, there were the obstacles Arkash did not anticipate, the call from the humdrum of day-to-day life often found itself on the lips of those obscure few he rarely encountered.
They were catalysts, those people that invoked change. Their presence in his life was undeniable and inevitable, even if he fought them. It had been some time since one such catalyst had crossed his path, but that always did have a habit of creeping up when he least expected it. Things were different since their last encounter, so much had happened and so much had changed in the ever-shifting landscape of war.
He'd grown, not accustomed to those ever-clear roads, but in tune to the chaos and the endless assault. He'd learned a lot of the workings of the world, the perceptions of others, and how their words alone could bind him. He closed up and hid from them as a means of survival, and those that caught up and found him also found their end.
Alas, the stage had been set. Arkash was in a new place, far from everything he knew. He was injured, vulnerable. Short of options and lost in the sprawling city, he wandered to the largest landmark he could see; the great big castle in the middle of the city. Little did he know that in setting a course for the castle, so too he set the course for change.
Torn burlap rags draped his form, many holes and gashes left scattered all about his makeshift attire. Despite the bore he carried beneath the potato-sack veil, there was no blood to be found on so much as a thread of burlap.
He appeared fresh, even if he held his chest with one arm while he walked, gait stiff and encumbered. A fluid-like bubbling rumbled in his chest with every breath, the subtle whisper of his depleted stamina. He wasn't healing enough; eating animals wasn't touching the sides, and didn't repair the damage, but it was enough to keep him alive. It had to be a person, someone he could sink his teeth into and pull apart, but in a city so alien from everything he'd ever known, gauging who would not be missed was easier said than done.
So, he walked on bare feet to the city center. And though his human skin reeled in protest at the touch of cool brick roads, Arkash did not hesitate to press onward. His toes seemed to numb in the cool air, but he'd never long been for comfort. He did not look as he crushed the amber leaves beneath his feet but did notice the shades of amber and yellow that took up the heads of the trees all around him, like the province was caught in an eternal Ash.
Sweat and blood stunk on the breeze with every breath, the likes of which only stirred his terrible hunger even more. When he looked at one of the elves or humans he passed, he could almost smell the juices of their eyes, and every appetizing stretch of meat that clung so delicately to their bones set his teeth on edge.
He wanted them. Every one of them he passed, he all but fantasized about the tear of their skin at the pressure of his fangs, but even so, he relented. Arkash wasn't in the right part of town for such behavior, everyone looked important, and looked down on his ragged self with disgust. If anything, he felt as though he was the one being sized up most of the time. Just one misstep would see him torn to pieces by however many mages surrounded him.
Patience was needed, and though it wore thin, Fayeth had taught him well. He wouldn't snap, not on them, not in the eye of the public. Perhaps he could lure one away if he tried?
But before he could even begin to formulate a plan for such a thing, he found the catalyst again. Dark eyes set on an elf from the street that led to Ardenserat, alone in the crowd. Recognition didn't come first, it was confusion, a feeling of familiarity that stopped him in his tracks. Arkash furrowed his brow while he stared down the elf, he who towered above the rest, the beacon of flame in the cold dark Rien night. Now so far from that darkness and the cold, miles from where they'd first met and bared to the midday light of the ever-warm Empire of Daravin...
Sir Steve.
Recognition made his heart race and tensed every muscle in his body. His breathing quickened just enough to make his damaged lung ache. His first reaction was to run to the man, to hug him, to punch him, then hug him again... But patience, that hard lesson his progenitor had taught him.
He was weak, injured, and prey for any that called themselves an ebonknight. But hadn't Taelian abandoned his order? He was a Godling, was he not? Just how much had changed?
Was it a good idea to approach the elf? Would they even recognize him? No, Taelian didn't know his humanoid form.
For just a few seconds, Arkash convinced himself he wouldn't approach Taelian, that he would let sleeping dogs lie, but his legs had other plans. His rigid gait walked him up to the elf, and all the way up to the moment that he parted his lips to speak, he maintained the notion that he wouldn't dredge up the past.
"Excuse me...?" He asked, and promptly cleared his throat of tar-like phlegm, which only irritated his lungs and started a series of hard, chesty coughs, straight into the elbow of his ragged sleeve. 'Dont fucking laser me', he thought. He didn't have the strength to evade such a strike, and it would certainly do so much worse to him than it would have if he hadn't become a dranoch.
When his coughing stopped, Arkash swallowed behind his dry lips, and straightened up. His sleeve was a mess, born of his injury. He turned a little to hide the scene; it was embarrassing to be such a mess before the elf.
"...Sorry," He resumed, then swallowed again. He made sure to breathe shallowly as he spoke. "...There's a lizard down there, looking for you..." he spoke purposefully vague, motioning to the street behind them. "Dark scales, yellow eyes... Asked me to come and get you..." He waited a moment, reading Taelian's features quite intently while he let the explanation set in. "Sorry if I'm wasting your time, but... he seemed excited to see you, that's all," he explained with a frown, then took a few paces back and kept his eyes locked on the elf before he turned and began to walk down the street with his irregular limp.
He motioned his hand once, then looked over his shoulder to make sure Taelian was following... If he decided to trust in the raggedy human at all.
Re: In The Heart of Gravel
Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2021 4:12 pm
by Taelian Edevane
He did not linger long, before his feet lifted from the cobbled ground - one at a time - and directed him towards Ardenserat's gates. Before he entered the walled enclave, however, he was approached by another. A deep-skinned man, with wiry hair, and a phlegmy voice. He immediately began to cough out a lung, causing Taelian to visibly wince before quietly offering him a handkerchief as he eyed him up-and-down. He almost wanted to try interfacing with his Weave, to figure out his intentions then and there... but he was not skilled enough to do so. It would only be guesswork, good as he had now.
Instead, he sought physical cues. Embarrassment; shame. Had he not been ill and injured for long? He could already see the way he stood strangely upon his leg, demonstrating... frailty. He was in poor shape. That was, however, the norm here for people outside of the presiding classes. Unlike in Lorien, there was no concern to the fate of the misaligned. If even the Entente were seen as expendable players, he could only imagine how they perceived men like the one before him.
With the flick of his gaze, his features remained flat, expressionless. He might have offered to help, some time ago... but not here. There were just... too many people here with that lot in life. He needed to worry about the broader picture.
"No need to apologize," he plainly said, as the other muttered his polite request for forgiveness. What came afterward immediately caused a shift in his demeanor, his brows raising. A lizard. "Looking for me?" Taelian asked. He only knew of one lizard, and if this one was 'excited to see him', it had to be him.
Arkash.
Taelian's eyes lowered, as he appeared to drift towards space for a moment. He had heard of the other man's... ongoings. The murder of Catherine Florent, an act that had caused a swing in the tide of the revolution, and not for the best. Taelian sought him out some time ago, inquiring with whichever contacts he had that had their hands in Lower Nivenhain. He had found nothing on him; the man disappeared with the wind, and he could only speculate as to where he had gone.
For him to be in Amoren... it was so strange. Almost uncanny. A part of him wondered if this was some... trick -- if a dagger was about to be jabbed into his chest, and straight through his lung.
"Wait, y..."
The other began to lead, and Taelian quickly stumbled on his feet to follow. He kept pace with him as the other moved through the street, making eye contact with him once he glanced over his shoulder.
"Did he say what his name was?" he asked. "And are you certain you have the right man? I've... seen at least a hundred other men like me, just today. Well -- not exactly like me, but..."
Half-Sil'norai. That was the illusion he was going for, after all; a show of human blood, the features of a man grafted over his own. There were many like him in Daravin, even if his appearance was - to some extent - a farce. It wasn't entirely, though. He was half Sil'norai, wasn't he? Half-Sil, and half Adac. Half... God.
The man sighed, peering down. There was no way he had been mistaken -- he was particularly tall, being an Argent Knight and all, with whatever mutagens came with that. He dressed like a Rien, too, to the intrigue and disdain of many present. All that meant, though, was that he was unmistakable.
It had to be Arkash, or a trap. From within his peacoat, he gripped a silver dagger and Enkindled it, prepared for whatever... surprise he was poised to meet.
Re: In The Heart of Gravel
Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2021 5:30 pm
by Arkash
Questions. Always with the questions. Why did everyone he led down that road ask questions? Sure, he was probably sketchy as all Bel, but he was quite authentically wounded, regardless of how well he did to pose himself better than he felt. Had he not just coughed up the lining of his throat trying to speak?
Taelian kept pace with him with relative ease, as Arkash had expected. The elf was near seven feet tall, of course, he would keep pace with a crippled peasant. If anything, he was glad the elf cared enough to follow him. He'd seen worry in Taelian's eyes at the mention of this lizard, which in itself was heartwarming, appeasing the cold that numbed his wounds.
He had to think. Had the lizard told him his name? What was the narrative he was painting? Why did the character he was playing know Arkash? Why was Arkash even there?
He paused, then covered his mouth with the handkerchief he accepted earlier and brought himself to cough again by inhaling too sharply. He lurched forward, bending at the hips and knees, and coughing with such force that he jerked with every motion. Again, black bile covered the spot where his mouth had pressed the cloth, and bitter pain began to radiate from the depths of the entry wound. It was unwise to keep doing that, he resolved, but he had to buy time to put together a proper story in his head, but it was so very clouded with thoughts, hopes, and curses.
He held there for a moment, just clinging to himself while he considered his options. "His name's Gerard," he answered after he swallowed the residual black gunk on his teeth. "Pointed you out 'imself, said to watch out for 'th' talles' 'alf-elf goin', when I came out limping for you... I don't know why he speaks like that," he clarified with a smile. "Sorta like someone shoved soap in his mouth or something..." he muttered as he began to walk again.
"I would'a called out for you, Steve, but... Well, I didn't want to actually lose my lung." he realized then, as he was walking down the road. He'd perhaps made an error. He didn't know where Taelian came from, there was a chance he was walking down roads that Taelian had never before walked, how would Arkash have seen him? "This way's faster," he offered in assurance, but was it too late? Was he about to become a pincushion?
"...I've never seen him like that, I'm sure he would have come for you himself, but he's in a worse state than me an' I owe him one," he clarified on his narrative again.
As the walk went on, though, he began to feel drained. His stamina really was shot to Bel with only one working lung. He'd wanted to lure him into the less-populated parts of down, the slum he and Caladrin had been staying at, but he found he couldn't make it that far. Even so, he couldn't help but feel like he'd won.
Arkash pressed his hand to the outside wall of a shop and held his chest. His breathing quickened in how shallow it was restrained, his heart raced in the broken cage of his ribs as his cardiovascular system tried desperately to pump much-needed oxygen through his thickened blood. After a moment or two of catching his breath, he looked up at the half-elf, then motioned him down the alley ahead of them. Arkash didn't know what was there, but he knew that was as far as he was making it. He had to rest.
"Ova' here, mucka'," he spoke, barely bothering the upkeep of his forced dialect. Using the wall as a support, he walked forward and clung to the corner as he turned into the alley, and continued deeper, past the reach of broad daylight, into the shade. It was a long stretch, and further ahead was another turn, a wedge between two buildings, out of sight of the general public. It was perfect. If he could just get Taelian to follow him a bit further. Again, he looked over his shoulder to make sure he was there and continued on his broken limp.
Re: In The Heart of Gravel
Posted: Sat Dec 18, 2021 6:38 pm
by Taelian Edevane
It did not take him long to recognize that his 'guide' was in much worse a condition than he thought. Beyond coughing, his body violently twisted with each hacking motion, the force of each causing Taelian to flinch; the wincing from before continued, though always in moments he was certain the other man could not spot it. Beyond that, he was glad he had given him a handkerchief, as there was... fluid, of sorts, emerging from him.
He tried to just--look away, imagining that the other would prefer not having Taelian's eyes painted on his back. As he peered around, glancing at the edges of the many Noble estates surrounding them, he held his breath for a moment. Gerard. That was no name he knew, and yet... the description - the way he described his speech - was spot-on, cadence and all. It wasn't the same coarse tone provided by a reptile's vocal chords, but the way he shifted in his words was... impressive. Taelian noticed one strange thing; this man guiding him did not sound, at all, like a peasant from Daravin. He had no Gentevarese 'way' about him, nor the accent, nor the other signifiers. He sounded like a Rien, and hell, he acted like one.
All of these things were perplexing enough that he hadn't noticed the most glaring errors. His suspicions fostered with or without all of that.
Steve. He chuckled, reminiscing for a moment. Sir Steve; the worst, yet fondest association with his Noble name.
"That's not my name -- Stephan, I mean." Taelian said, softly. "It's a cover name. I'll need to make sure to tell... Gerard... that I only reserve that name for business associates, not for friends." A faint smile curled along the corner of his lip.
It was clear, as they went along, that the walk was taking a toll on his humble guide... and apparently, Arkash was even worse than him. If he believed his story any longer, he might have worried for the reptile, but he no longer did. Still, they moved through the pale, stony-colored corridors of Amoren's Noble Quarter, tracing along the edges and walls of shops and homes, moving through narrow streets. He said little, observing the other man sporadically, but otherwise revealing little.
That was, until, they found themselves surrounded by the walls of an alley. Taelian looked up; converging sets of balconies obscured the sun, allowing them some shade and reprieve. Ova' here, mucka'.
He grinned. Now, he was certain.
The man drew his silver dagger from his pocket, twirling it in his fingers. His eyes went momentarily alight, a fiery gleam emanating from his otherwise amber-hazel hued irises. "Why the game, Arkash?" he asked, a bemused smile on his lips. "You trying to get me to fire another Glare at you? Won't work. My aim's sloppy, anyway," he began, tracing his finger along the edge of the curved dagger. "Haven't seen a battlefield in a few months. Unlike you, apparently."
Re: In The Heart of Gravel
Posted: Sun Dec 19, 2021 4:13 am
by Arkash
Deception was a tool Arkash used daily, he thought himself fairly skilled in the art that was deceiving others, luring them from the truth and light. What he didn't often encounter were those that saw through him, and used deductive reasoning to pick apart his falsehoods. Taelian, the catalyst, was one such individual, who apparently peered clearly through his lies.
He dropped to his side in the alley and leaned his head against the wall. He was caught, found out. "How'd 'ew know?" He asked, still compressing his chest with his back to the half-elf. " Was i' the soap comment? Callin' 'ew Steve?" When he thought about it, he realized he'd dropped more than a few hints, and then the matter of letting his dialect go right before they got there. "I ova' explained, di'nnae?" He called over his shoulder
Some feedback on his deception attempt would have been appreciated, he could do it better the next time if he got it. With an exhausted wince, he turned to press his back to the wall, so that Taelian was to his left, just behind him, the bustling Amoren street. His eyes paid no attention to the street beyond though, as his gaze settled on the knife Taelian carried; a curved blade, ideal for piercing the lungs and preventing the victim's scream. His eyes lifted to Taelian's while he held himself. Why the games?
"I got my reasons," he assured, though, in hindsight, they were petty and somewhat embarrassing. "Maybe I jus' di'n wanna call 'ewa name in the street, huh Steff?" He offered with a smile that obscured his teeth. He didn't trust that he'd swiped off all the bile from his lungs, and didn't want to make the half-elf even less comfortable. "I was gonna show my... propa' self 'round the corna'," he assured with a gesture to the deeper part of the alley. "This shape's me own alta' ego, got 'is own name an' ev'ryfink," he explained. "Didn' wanna show 'ew in public, woulda been like 'Su'prise...! I'm a'tually neoalt...!'" he waved his hand with the explanation.
"...I didn' hide i' from 'ew, I jus' didn' know I was when we met, and I didn' manage to run into 'ew again afta' 'ew ran 'ewself through th' chest," he explained with a frown, and balled his fist at his lips to cough hard through pursed lips. It was like his body contested the amount of air he was using just to speak and sought retribution. He shut his eyes, then laid his head back against the wall. Shallow wheezing made up most of his breath, anything deeper or quicker would just injure him further.
Taelian pointed out that Arkash appeared to still be in the wars, to which he smiled briefly, coughed a chuckle, and shook his head as his smile yielded to a frown. "Soz am a mess wheneva' we meet..." He spoke through his exhaustion after a moment or two of recuperation. "I'ss not on purpose, I swears i'." He couldn't let Taelian think he only went to him when he needed to be fixed up, it wasn't like that, he could handle himself.
It wasn't fair, there was so much he wanted to say to the Godling, but it felt like his body was ready to give up on him if he spoke so much as another word. He'd definitely overdone it for the day, and needed rest in the absence of a meal.
He cast a glance to the end of the alleyway, that turn that led off into obscurity, and smiled. He probably wouldn't have been able to say as much if he'd tried to make it around the corner. In that sense, it was a good thing Taelian had put an end to the game when he did; he got just a few more words in, even if he wasn't in his true form to say them.
Steadily, he released the tension in his legs, then lowered to sit on the alley floor, dragging his back along the stonework on his way down with a quiet "need t' rest," once he'd stopped descending.
Re: In The Heart of Gravel
Posted: Sun Dec 19, 2021 5:38 am
by Taelian Edevane
His gaze settled on Arkash as the other man confirmed it -- he was right. The person before him, who looked nothing like his old self and yet carried his air and mannerisms, was in fact the same man. They had both gone through their own... transformations of sort since they last met - and before that - but none like this. He had become an entirely different man, head-to-toe. Taelian almost forgot that some Rathor could do that; he had met few who could, and rarely did they remain in his lives long enough for him to see that other side to them.
"Over explained... one way to put it. Never thought you'd be such a shit liar," he said. There was some level of banter in his words, but equally some unexpressed frustration. The murder of Catherine Florent lingered in his mind. It was the last thing he had associated with Arkash, so for a year now it had been all he could think about; all he could relate back to him. Every time his mind wandered upon the troubled lizard, he was reminded of his deeds, which had caused turbulence in the trajectory of the revolution.
Alter ego. That made two of them, he supposed. The dulled ears, the obscuring of his patterns, the name Stephan; Taelian had built a constructed identity of his own, one he still wore in parts. Unlike Arkash, he could not merely switch it out. 'Sir Steve' followed him everywhere, each time he peered into the mirror. While the basic features of Stephan were the ones he had been born with, enough was different to remind him that he was no longer the man he knew. Each time he looked, he was reintroduced to life as a Thespian. A life of theater.
"Well..." he began, leaning his back against the wall himself. The man pressed one foot against the brick, his arms moving to cross over his chest. "Don't worry about it. I'm not bothered, and I know now, don't I?"
Taelian eyed Arkash closely, a look of concern evident in his stare as he watched his muddled, uncomfortable breathing unfold. There was something off about him, beyond just being injured, but he could not tell what. The symptoms seemed relatable to Mageblight. Given that tome of Blood Magic Arkash had given him, he wondered if he'd been dallying with the Mark of the Vandikar.
Whatever the case, it was obvious that Arkash was beyond the point of communicating with. He needed rest, as he quickly pointed out himself, slouching against and sliding down the wall. Taelian's eyes flicked over him again, trying to determine what had happened to him. He was no medical expert, though, and too much was obscured. Mageblight, crossed with some injury, he imagined... and fatigue? Hunger? A mixture of the two?
"It's alright, Arkash," he offered quietly, his narrowing gaze settling on the cobble between them. He had thought to tell the other man so many things as they met one another again, but now... it felt cruel to even imagine wasting his time on reminiscence, and the droll events of a domestic mage. "We'll go to my flat here," said Taelian. "There, you can rest where things aren't so... exposed. But I want to speak to you, more, once you're better. There's a lot of ground to cover -- like all the things you got up to while we were distant. Murdering a member of a Great House, dabbling in Blood Magic. I can only begin to question your motivations, and now, I can only ask... why you're here. But--"
He stopped, shaking his head. Closing his eyes, he dug into his pocket until a Shard Resonator appeared in his hand, refined into a carefully crafted oval gem. Taelian focused on the gem, as if he were looking upon it, despite his eyes being closed. As his focus intensified, a swooping blip of sound ran through the Resonator, and the sound repeated with intensifying oscillations. Before long, that sound paved the way for a hole in space, and Taelian's eyes opened.
"Come," he whispered. "Step through. We'll chat more afterwards, when you're better. I... have plenty of food, and you can sleep in my bed. Sofa's pretty solid, too."
Re: In The Heart of Gravel
Posted: Sun Dec 19, 2021 9:37 am
by Arkash
A shit liar? Him? "Bullshet-!" he argued with a cough. He wasn't a bad liar. Taelian was just too perceptive. The elf had probably found holes in his stories that Arkash hadn't even considered. Maybe he did spend too much time thinking about it. The goal of such a quick deception wasn't to convince them something was true, it was to invoke such a panic that the prey didn't have time to pick apart the story. He had to be faster, and on a shot leg and ruined lung, that wasn't happening.
"I'm gre't," he continued, bleeding his sense away with every uttered word. He'd barely considered it when he first found the half-elf again, and he hadn't the sense to consider it as time went on, but he was very much in danger, even if he didn't think so. He was a dranoch now, a monster the likes of Taelian's old order had sworn to destroy.
Arkash simply didn't see it that way, he saw Taelian's allegiance to the remedy as null and void. Even if he carried the sigil, it wasn't something that controlled him. He couldn't hate Arkash for what had happened, could he? Arkash couldn't have known it wasn't Taelian's choice if he were to let loose and resolve to destroy him. How could he?
Even so, it was something the young Rath was accustomed to hiding; he seldom shared insight into three aspects of his life with anyone, at least not by will. His true identity, he freely shared with the elf. His mark and blight were things he still sought to obscure.
One of those aspects was apparently not a secret after all. "Blood...?" he asked while he sat on the floor. Taking the weight off his feet helped, admittedly. The hand that didn't hold his chest lifted to his head and covered one of his eyes with a press. He hadn't the energy to even contest that reveal. Was Taelian just speculating or had it somehow slipped when he was in Lorien? Fayeth and Asmodei didn't even know, how could Taelian? "...How'd you figa' tha' one?" He asked with as deep of an exhale as he could manage.
The truth of Catherine Florent wasn't all that surprising, he'd be more surprised if Taelian didn't know he'd done that with all the eye-witnesses he'd left about. Even so, he saw no wrongs with his actions. He hadn't meant to kill her, it was her husband that was meant to die by his gun, but he wasn't home at the time; an oversight in his plot. Regardless, she was the enemy. She had to die too.
"...Yeah," he started after a pause. It helped to take long breaks between what he spoke and to focus a lot on his breathing in the meantime. He had been busy since they last met, so much so that Arkash barely remembered what he'd been up to at the time of his meeting with the godling
He could only imagine what had become of Taelian in the time they'd been apart; if so much could happen to a nameless lizard from Lower Nivenhain's slums, what could have become of Taelian in his eternal struggle against the forces that be? Had he killed a God? Journeyed to bel itself and raised an army of demons? Died and lived to tell the tale?
"Soun's good," he affirmed with a nod. he did want to know what had become of the Elf since their last meeting, and stone wasn't as comfortable against his human skin as it was against his scales. Though he didn't often mind the discomfort the road he walked brought him, he had somewhat grown accustomed to the normality of sleeping with a roof over his head; such hadn't happened in a month with Caladrin at his side. He had no complaints about being indoors for a change, especially not if it was with the likes of the Godling he'd once dotted over.
Even as he wrestled his broken guts to his feet, Arkash was caught in an impenetrable veil of euphoria that clouded his every sense. He had no mind to refuse the Godling or question his motives. It was beyond comforting to be with a familiar face, a comforting scent, a reminder of home. With one hand to the wall, he walked himself to the familiar hum of the portal, and looked up at the elf with an apologetic smile before he parted his lips. "This is like... Wot, the fourth life-saving I owe you, now?" He spoke until his voice ran thin, then coughed into his elbow again. "An' a hanky, too..." he added in reference to the handkerchief he'd no doubt ruined with the corrupted blood-mixed-bile he'd coughed up.
Finally, he stepped through the portal, and clung to his sense of balance as he was whisked away from the street, lest he fall and break something expensive on the other side.
Re: In The Heart of Gravel
Posted: Sun Jan 16, 2022 4:25 pm
by Nyx
Thread Review
Arkash
Regular Experience: 8 EXP
Magical Experience: N/A
Injury/Ailments: N/A
Awarded Lore:
[*] Appraisal: Identifying someone by their scent
[*] Disguise: Assuming the guise of a different race is a really good way to go about it
[*] Disguise: People that know you won't be so easily fooled
[*] Disguise: Your accent can give you away
[*] Disguise: Don't make references to prior meetings when tangling with someone that knows you
[*] Hunting: Lure
[*] Hunting: Quickly overwhelm your prey
[*] Hunting: Learn the lay of the land for an easier time manipulating your prey
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[*] [PC] Taelian: Recognized you despite your incredible disguise
[*] [PC] Taelian: Saved you at your lowest (again)
[*] [PC] Taelian: You're destined to meet at the most awkward times
[*] [PC] Taelian: Hasn't changed much
Loot: N/A
Taelian
Regular Experience: 8 EXP
Magical Experience: N/A
Injury/Ailments: N/A
Awarded Lore: N/A
Loot: N/A
Comments:
