Fantasy Penance Behind the Veil

[Doctor Jax]

Marnia Belhund -- Esquire -- In her tent, bein (s)mothered





The stubborn squire had popped her head out momentarily to see what the hubbub was going on about when Edina, of course, seemed to materialize and block her way to freedom. As groggy, sore, pained, grumpy, and generally nauseous as she was, Marnie would still have appreciated a bit of a walk seeing as she felt like her legs had both turned into one, giant cramp. Never the less, Marnie let herself be led back into the tent to sit on her bed roll. Edina had been nice enough to get her dinner, though honestly the thought of putting any sort of food in her mouth made her want to vomit what little was in her stomach. The world was spinning much too much, and unfortunately there wasn't a handy, nearby plant or opportunistic dog to save her from dinner.


Man, she missed it when she could pass off Edina's cook's 'lambchops' to the castle hounds...


Marnie bristled at the mention of taking off her armor, but she tried to tamp down her ardor. It had taken her something like a year and a half to realize that Edina's nagging was, indeed, for her benefit and not purely to annoy the living day light out of her. Still, didn't mean it didn't get under her skin. She played with her food blearily, her eyes wincing in pain now and again as she moved an arm a little too far and pulled a broken rib.


"Thanks fer the pick-me-up," Marnie muttered as she gently put a piece of vegetable between her teeth and tried to chew it. Her teeth felt as sturdy as stew, for Heaven's sakes. Perhaps Eddie had some truth there, telling her she looked like death from the neck up. At the least, she'd learn something useful from all this. Rarely did the two of them have to resort to getting themselves fixed up on their own, seeing as their missions thus far hadn't been, as far as Marnie could compare to this journey, as dangerous. Learning how to fix herself up would be good, though she knew a few home remedies from her mother and aunts.


As Eddie undressed and lay down, Marnie waited for her (inevitable) critique of her fighting prowess. She put away her half-eaten food, and sat slumped. Imagine her surprise when she heard the words 'did good' and 'you' in the same sentence. She looked right and left, wondering if maybe she was talking to someone else, but no -- she was the only one present. She nodded appreciatively -- until, of course, Edina came to her critique. She deflated again and immediately regretted it, her ribs screaming abuse.


"I, ah... well, I was a li'l pressed fer action, y'know, cuz I didn't get a clear shot at it. Wouldn'a done no good to just sit 'ere and let it wail on us while I get a nock goin' and Ivar get a nock goin' 'n Bells havin' the reins. Course, y'don't have to worry 'bout me doin' that agin. Lost my sword," Marnie admitted haltingly, swaying a little bit as dizziness swept over her. "We left too fast fer me to grab i'. I think m'bow's in the supply wagon, jist I dunno how many arrow's I got left."


Suddenly Covil's anxiety and subsequent fall, Marnie perked up and asked, "Wait, how's Covil? He took a pre''y big knock there."


Marnie had a soft spot for horses and pack animals in general, though she was by no means an equestrian. There was something about taking care of another animal that was calming, and that was one of the few duties Marnie genuinely enjoyed, exercising Covil and currying him. She could do without the poop duty though. Nothing screams dignified like scooping horse crap with a pitchfork.

 

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL


The Prince, had he been a lesser man, would have disciplined his servant on the spot at the very first fleeting hope of manumission. However, the very fact that that was the societal norm of his countrymen sickened his stomach. When he would ascend the throne, he would rid Regalis' culture of indefinite servitude that had laid the very foundation of the kingdom for he and his people were strong enough to stand on their own now, without trampling the livelihood of servants and slaves.


"You're very brave, Ko." Ceril spoke after downing a gulp of sweet wine, "And this Veil, this Mockery, will test us in ways we've never thought to imagine before. By the time we leave this cursed place, we'll all be better people and no matter what happens -- you'll have my word that you and Arabella as well as the other servants will have their freedom. Amelia, God guide her soul, is no exception."


"And you've got it all wrong, Ko, Aleida and I are--" The Prince began with a chuckle but his features quickly turned sour when the commotion across camp kicked up.


"Lady Aleida and Kepheus are fighting!" An auxiliary called out from the main campfire.


Ceril fell silent as he rose from his sitting position. Infighting? How dare they. The Prince marched his way to the scene with one hand on his saber and his cloak trailing behind him, weaving silence among the gathering crowd as he passed. He had arrived just in time to see the older man drop Aleida to the ground.


"Kneel!" Ceril boomed, echoing through the hillside.


The Prince unclasped his saber with the sheath still attached and swung the tip of the metal behind Kepheus' knee, bringing the man to the ground, "I said kneel before the Ambryn crown, Kepheus Kerberos!"


"If I must draw my sword on you, Kepheus, our kingdom is beyond God's salvation. You will not harm another member of this entourage, for we are all too valuable for your petty disagreements. I am the law of this land and you will seek me if your contemptuous squabbles be severe enough to force your hand against an ally -- you a veteran of our armies should know this!" Ceril was absolutely enraged that this was happening at all so soon and he would not allow it to continue.


"Do I make myself presently clear?" Ceril turned to face the awestruck and cowering faces that had gathered around, "To all of you! Have I made my intentions and expectations clear to all of you?"


Nods, followed by the silence and sound of crackling fires.


The Prince turned once more and knelt to Aleida's side and offered her a hand, knowing her injuries may still be hindering her physical ability, "Aleida? A moment, if you will?"


(@Veirrianna Valentine, @korigon, @Poe)

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

It had all happened in a moment. At once, he had her by the neck off the ground, his chain-mailed hand gripped tightly around the bruises that had long since littered her skin from their first encounter with the mockery. Aleida made no move to say anything, no move to fight back, as it was not proper for her to do. If Ceril caught wind of this altercation, it would surely disgust him to think two of his own were fighting within his entourage. The last thing he needed was more unrest and while she’d been inclined to defend her father’s name, she would not fight any longer nor would she ever go so far as to lay a hand on Kepheus. He might have infuriated her, but they were stuck in this damned fog together and she would rather die before turning on an ally — no matter how poor an ally they might be.


But then she dropped to the ground, a single breath gasped into her lungs as her knees gave out beneath her. So much of her body ached with the depth of a hundred battles though they’d hardly been in the Veil two days time. The bruises on her body aching with every single rise and fall of her tired lungs and she, too, was exhausted. Amelia was dead and Kepheus had managed to drudge up all the fresh wounds she had ignored in regards to her father — infecting them and turning them an angry and irritated red in her heart. It wasn't happening here, it wasn’t happening now. She was not about to let some bitter man break what she had spent so long carefully tucking into the back of her mind.


Ceril’s hand was there before her, extended as he knelt by her side and she felt so entirely foolish that she did not even want to face him. No, she had not turned the conversation into a physical confrontation, but she hated the fact that Ceril was now burdened with their petty differences. Slowly, she raised her hand and took his, using quite a bit more of his support to stand as her legs had long since given up. “Of course,” she rasped out, her throat tired from where Kepheus had only worsened the pain of her bruises. It was only when they were a few steps from the campfire did she make any attempt to speak.


“I don’t know why that escalated,” she said quietly as they walked though she really did not have much to apologize for, her weight still slightly rested upon him for stability. There was no quip this time, no playful jab or sarcastic comment. Kepheus’ words still echoing in her head like the twisted song of the mockery’s flute. “I’m sorry.”


If there was anyone in this world who knew Aleida, it was Ceril, and while she was many things — disrespectful was not one of them. Her father had raised her to be fierce and quick, to stand up for those when wronged but to also never start a fight you could not finish and Aleida was in no place to pick a physical fight with anyone. And she hated the fact that Kepheus had pulled the memory of him from her bones as though losing Amelia was not enough, he had to make sure she let her pain slowly eat at her until she snapped. It was a rare apology that Ceril had received from her and one that Kepheus would never see.


(@Coin)

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arabella Dane

Had she been anyone else, Arabella might have argued that the accident was hardly life threatening, that it could be cleaned up with very little harm done. She might have argued that none of them had the luxury anymore of having things like armor and weapons replaced, because no one was going to venture in or out of the damnable fog any time soon. She might have argued that the barbarian qualities of war and battle that knights might be accustomed to were hardly a thing a humble servant might be accustomed to...


But Arabella would say none of those things. Of the myriad thoughts rampaging in her mind, the conscious idea of dissent was not one of them. An order was an order, even one half-heard through the painful throbbing of an aching skull.


It would be good, the task. A distraction from the more present terrors. And while she doubted Gwendalin would be glad of her help, Arabella would offer it, nonetheless, because she was, if nothing else a good servant... not the addled dysfunction the red haired woman imagined. If she could just stop the awful ringing in her ears...


"Yes, sire. Right away..." She managed, and with a respectful bow of the head, she turned to leave. Or at least she'd meant to... before her legs gave beneath her and she collapsed.

@Effervescent

 

[Effervescent]

Alexander Vallane

​

His eyes were on Gwendalin as she took her leave. Alexander still felt a little perplexed by the warrior's reaction, feeling even with the points she presented it was too harsh of a reaction. It reminded him of his brother, and the remembrance returned his attention to the servant girl. Arabella bowed, turning to leave upon his command, but she did not get far before she collapsed before him.Alexander's reaction time was swift as he stepped forward to catch her, cradling her upper body in his arms to ease her to the ground. Using his teeth, he clamped down on the tip of his glove and pulled to remove it and positioned his index finger under her nose. While it was likely she just fell unconscious, perhaps due to stress, he still wanted to insure she was still breathing."Miss Dane?" he quietly called to her.


It was only a few seconds at the most before, lashes fluttering, Arabella's eyes opened. Chestnut orbs darted wildly, then fell at last on Alexander, fear apparent in the brown depths, "...What happened?"


"You collapsed," Alexander said as he moved his hand away from her nose and knelt beside her. He cradled her head in her hands and looked over to the rest of the camp in search for Lady Edina. Would he need to report this? He looked back down at Arabella as he continued. "How are you feeling? Are you sick?"


Frowning, she shook her head, flinching slightly at the motion, "No, no I don't think so. I... suppose I'm just more tired than I thought. I haven't slept, much. I'm sure..." Shifting, she grimaced, "I'm sure it's nothing. Forgive me, sire. I'll just... I'll only need a moment. Are we dancing?"


Alexander's brow furrowed somewhat, and a small, nervous huff of a laugh escaped him as he leaned forward to inspect Arabella's eyes. He had seen this type of confusion before when he had been rough housing with his friends. He learned rather quickly that concussions were not to be ignored, and he was not entirely sure just how much force was behind Gwendalin's backhanded slap. Dark eyes scanned over her own in search of strangely dilated pupils, a finger gently lifting each eyelid by pushing upwards at her brow. The lighting was terrible in the Veil."I think perhaps it best you take some time away from your duties," he suggested, and then carefully helped her up to a stand. He kept his arms about her arm and waist in case her legs gave way once again. "I will accompany you to Lady Maplecroft. She will need to know of your condition. Do you think you can walk on your own?"


"...Hmm?" Rising on wobbly legs, Arabella frowned softly, "Walk? Of course... Just need to... to find my feet. Ah..." Using her free hand, she pinched the bridge of her nose, "Lady Maplecroft. Yes. Wait, no! No... She... if she thinks I can't... I just need to rest a moment. My tent... it... it isn't far. Please?"


He nodded his head and continued to support the woman's weight in his carefully placed arms. He was a gentleman, and knowing what Arabella had gone through made him even more conscious as to where exactly he positioned his arms when aiding the weakened woman. He wouldn't release her unless he was certain she could walk on her own, and began to walk her towards her tent."I will need to let her know," Alexander stated, though kept his tone gentle. "You are in no condition to properly carry out your duties. We wouldn't want another wine spill on another soldier's armor, would we? I can have Miss Bay take over your duties for the rest of the evening. Try not to sleep for a while. You might be suffering from a concussion. Who are you sharing tents with?"


"...Amelia." She started, her voice faltering, "But... but I don't suppose she'll be there, will she."


This put Alexander in quite the predicament. He cursed internally at the situation at hand as they neared Arabella's tent. Amelia was dead. He had heard her name uttered throughout those who had survived, though he had never known the girl. Alexander halted just at Arabella's tent entrance and searched for Paisley. He didn't want to yell for anyone so close to Arabella's ear, for it could cause agitation to her possible head injury."Would you like to sit?" he asked. Alexander prepared himself to keep watch over the servant until he could catch a glimpse of Paisley Bay or someone else just as suitable to take over the watch. This meant conversation was advisable and he took in a deep breath. He didn't really know the servant girl other than their past crossing. He could only think of one subject that could possibly keep the girl awake and talking. "Tell me about your father."


Nodding, Arabella sank down, mindful of the myriad injuries alighting her small form. As Alexander continued, her face fell, "About my... ah." Shifting, her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, "He was neither knight, nor nobleman... just a humble blacksmith. But my father was the most wonderful man I've ever known. He's gone, too... though that one, I'm afraid, is entirely my fault."


Carefully, he aided in lowering Arabella to sit just outside her tent. Confusion creased his brow at Arabella's words, and he wondered if perhaps her injuries had jostled her memory. "Your fault?" Alexander repeated. "I highly doubt that. What makes you believe this? If I may ask, that is. I do not wish to upset you."


"There... there was a man. A horrible man... His horse had slipped a shoe and he came to my father's shop to have it repaired. That was not the only thing there that he desired. He... inquired of me. I told my father, and he sent the man away. Later that night, the man returned, and while my father slept, he..." Swallowing, she turned her eyes away, shaking her head, "He killed him. If I had just... if I hadn't said anything..."


A lump formed in Alexander's throat as the memory was relayed to him. He shook his head in disagreement, a sickness churning in him as he felt remorse for something he did not even do. "That is still my your fault," he said with a soft tone still present. "That man is to blame. You did nothing wrong then. Do..." He found his words falling short while internal debate took over. "If you could seek justice for what had been done, would you?"


@Elle Joyner

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arabella Dane

Quiet for a moment, Arabella thought, and when she spoke, it was quietly, pensively, "I don't know. My father was a good man, I suppose that's what he deserves. But I don't imagine it will ever come to that. This man, he... he was a noble. It isn't likely anyone would take the word of a servant over someone of his esteem..." Shivering, she drew her hands up to rub her arms, "I woke while he was still there. He came to me and... and he made me beg, to save my father's life. I had no idea he was already dead. I trust I would have been, too, after that... but the man was not alone. Someone called him away. I never found out who... but I owe them my life."


"Your father deserves better," Alexander said. "Noble or not, it was not right. I can help you in the case when we get out of here. But you need to take care of yourself so we can get there." He watched her shiver, and hesitated in debate as to how to relieve her chills. Eventually, the knight leaned into the tent, feeling around for a blanket to commandeer. His hand found fur and clutched the blanket, shifting it out slowly before draping it over Arabella's shoulders. The way he went about the servant was awkward, almost as if any action towards her contained a fear of causing outlash or harm.


Smiling dryly, she took the blanket and wrapped it tightly around her small frame, "...Thank you. For this, and... for your words. You are... you are uncommonly kind, sire. But if I'm honest, I don't think I stand much of a chance, making it out. My father taught me well enough how to defend myself... but not against those things. If it weren't for Lady Aleida, I'd be with Amelia, tonight. I was fortunate... I don't suspect it will happen more than once."


The knight's features softened as he nodded his head in thought. "You don't have the experience in combat," he said, "but you are surrounded by many capable men and women. It's our job to protect everyone here as we travel through this fog." He straightened up once the blanket rested comfortably over Arabella's shoulders, his hand moving to rest casually upon the hilt of his sword as he once again scanned through the camp."The best thing to do is to remain positive," he said to her, and looked back down at her with a soft smile. "If you ever get the chance, you should meet Squire Belhund." Alexander pointed towards Marnia's tent. "Or you can come to me if you'd like. I'm...not the best, mind you. But I can provide you a few pointers. I'll see to it you make it back home."


"Marnie? We've met, actually. She's a rather remarkable girl. I'll bear in mind to ask her, if she's got the time. And thank you, for the offer as well... I may just take you up on that." Touching the bruise around her neck, she sighed, her eyes moving to the empty tent before her, "There is nothing, Sire, quite so... terrifying... as vulnerability, is there? I know I shouldn't be so afraid to go in there, but I am."


Alexander glanced over to the tent reminded of the recent loss yet again. He didn't have the connection to Amelia as others did, but he could comprehend the loss Arabella must be feeling. "I think that's why we tend to build up walls," he thought out loud. "Being so exposed and vulnerable isn't a comfortable sensation. Placing yourself in the spaces once occupied or around things once used by those who have passed hurts. It reminds us of what we've lost. Being afraid to go in there is only natural. If you'd like, I can see about arranging you to stay in Miss Bay's tent instead." He watched Arabella for a moment to gauge her state, attempting to determine if she were recovering at least physically.


"When it first happened, my father's death... I avoided my home for over a week's time. I couldn't bear it. The sight of it. But it is those things which frighten us most, that in the end will make us strongest. Though if it is not too much to ask, I've no weapons, have you a small knife I might borrow for a time?"


The knight's brow set to a thoughtful furrow at her request. Unlike the men and women that surrounded him in this endeavor, he only equipped himself with his sword and his bow. "I can see if we have anything you can use in your defense," Alexander said. "Do you know how to use a bow?"


Smiling, Arabella nodded, "I hunted often with my father. Before he died, I'd learned to hit a rabbit from as far as 15 paces..." There was the barest hint of pride in her tone, but it was gone before a moment, her gaze lowering again, "It's been some time, but I think I still remember it all."


"Well, then," Alexander responded with a nod and a reassuring smile, "it sounds like you received proper training. You may have my bow. It's just been sitting on my saddle collecting dust since we started. It'll be ready for you in the morning. I will see to your arrangements with staying with Miss Bay for the duration of this trip as well. Would you like for me to retrieve anything from your tent?"


"Thanks you, Sir Vallane. That is most kind of you. I'll see to it, it's well cared for."Looking back to the tent again, she shook her head, "And no. I... I couldn't unpack anything, after we set up camp. I've got Amelia's things as well, in the cart. Someone will..." Swallowing, she looked away, "Someone will need to see that they're returned to her family, I suppose."


"That is something we can surely do," he said with a nod. "You can do it yourself, if you'd like."


"Perhaps I will... Thank you. I think I may be alright now. I'm sure you've other things to attend to, and I should finish my work before I retire for the evening."


There was a moment's hesitation in the knight's stance as he stood frozen in thought. Arabella appeared to him well enough despite the bruising that dappled her pale skin. He gave a small nod in response, unsure as to whether or not he would speak before his leave. Alexander's mouth parted in the debate, eventually bringing forth his voice in his departure. "Rest easy, Miss Dane."


Smiling gently, Arabella nodded, "You as well. And Sire? You may call me Arabella. Goodnight..."

@Effervescent

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Lady Edina Maplecroft





Edina would pass off Marnia's retorts as certain high levels of pain from her injuries. The knight herself was rather irked, which was why she wasn't going to bother with the commotion outside for the time being. The Prince's booming voice commanded silence, at least someone could be the scary person other than herself every now and then. She tried steadying her breathing against the pain of bruising along her stomach and sides while Marnie delivered a more detailed version of her combat experience. Her brow furrowed at the prospect of her squire losing her sword. She wanted to yell at her about that but... "Ugh..." Was all she could manage in one exasperated sigh.


Her eyes opened once more at the inquiry on Covil. She glanced over to Marnie to find that she was already done with her food. Well, half of her food, but it would have to do for now. "He's fine. A little shaken and roughed up....but he'll pull through. You can see for yourself after we're done. Now..." She sat up and looked the young woman over. "If you've really broken a rib then you'll likely be out of a good portion of action until we leave the veil. But...say it's bruising or a fracture then...it'll be slightly less pressing of a matter. But for the time being, this is what you should be doing...."


Explaining the process for caring for her certain condition was tough. As it turned out Marnie already knew of a number of pain-relieving herbal combinations. She just had to avoid wrapping herself up, rest, take care to take deep breathes, and walk from time to time. She likely wasn't going to get much rest given their situation, but every bit of information would help. "Did you get all of that?" She inquired before stretching, feeling the pull of her bed roll again which ended up summoning a yawn from her lips. "Considering the amount of rest you've gotten, it might be good if you did move about. Though I'd be careful, everyone seems pretty tense at the moment."

 

[Doctor Jax]

Marnia Belhund -- Esquire -- in her tent





Marnie, for all her faults, was an exceptional listener. Time with her mother and aunts had taught her that if elders were speaking of important matters (especially when directed to her in the form of instructions) she had better listen. Though she may do so sullenly, she would still listen with excellence to detail. And with that, she took her draughts, bandaged what she could, and took Edina's advice to heart. Rest -- ha! That was a mighty fine wet dream. She'd screw the nearest stable boy for a decent bed and a way out of here. He could've had one eye and webbed toes, and it wouldn't have mattered for all the promise a bed could hold. Still, moving around was sounding more and more appealing. While she'd first felt like death warmed over when she'd woken, she was strangely energized now, despite her bruises. She'd remembered that... well, someone had died, someone had perished, and she'd somehow missed that. And then there was all that commotion outside.


"Yeah, I got that all, and everythin'. Pretty sure it ain' broken -- jist fractured. Hurts like the dickens to breathe too deep, but it ain't movin' none 'n I don't plan on taking one a them things on by the horns anytime soon," Marnie said seriously. "But you... you oughta be careful, too. I mean... you got a sword 'n all and the lances're helpful, but if y'ain't got Covil, i' won't matter how big your lance be, y'know?"


Fondly, Marnie patted Edina's shoulder with a rough slap, before looking out to the rest of the camp. Most people were going to bed it seemed. Pity -- Marnia felt wide awake now, for all the good that did her. The young woman drew up her knees towards her chest and hugged them, her lanky form seeming to bend in half. In the dying light, her bonerash scars seemed like craters in her young face.


"Y'know, 's weird," Marnie muttered. "This blasted fog puts a lotta things in perspective. Ain't like a battlefield 'r a duel 'r nothin'. Those're quick, don't got time to leave you thinkin'. But the Veil, it lets ya think 'bout life 'n things 'fore it kills you. Like I was thinkin', 'First thing I'll do when I get outta here, is visit m' mum, m' dad, see how they are. Ain't seen 'em and might not see 'em.' Or 'I shoulda kissed that boy in Torvill when I had the chance. Rickets, I ain't ever kissed anybody 'fore.' Strange, innit?"


Rarely did Marnie get philosophical, but there was something about the quiet mist and muffled noises that made things here dreamlike, open for talking. Other stuff had begun invading Marnia's brain, old regrets and new hopes that she wondered would ever be realized. Was she ever going to be a knight at court? She knew how others thought of her, how low brow and nouveau riche she was, hardly versed in manners. Would she ever pay off her family's debts? What would happen if she died now, with all her parents' children lost to the Veil? And what of Edina? What would she do if Marnie wasn't there to take care of Covil, get her those blasted heavy lances, and set up tents? Moan and hiss, that's what she'd do, have a real cheese and whine party.


@Space Cowboy Ein

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Lady Edina Maplecroft


"Good." Edina replied, moving a hand up to undo her bun, offering her another moment of relaxation. It'd been a good time since she let her hair down for anything past washing up. Her red locks unfurled with a soft flourish and fell to just below her shoulders. Another sigh escaped her lips as Marnie urged her to be careful as well. She just shrugged and rested her hands in her lap. "I know...I took more risks than needed, likely. But I did manage to get one of those monsters." She added lowly, following her squire's gaze out into the camp. Things were finally starting to die down. That was good. If they were going to start infighting so soon, the Mockery would be the least of their issues. That being said, she prayed that they'd have some form a respite in the next day at least.


She decided to lay down again as Marnie curled up and started talking about things that Edina could have gone without hearing about. Instead of some of that precious shuteye, Edina was left staring up at the tent listening and thinking. Her thoughts drifted to her own loose ends in life. What would she do when she got out? What could she have done better? She blinked at Marnie when she mentioned not having kissed some boy, or anyone yet at all. It had thrown her mind temporarily into the gutter with past experiences. She swallowed as thoughts of her youth came back to her, images of Alex, times in the family library in the dead of night. A subtle warmth began to grow at her core. No good. She sucked in a deep breath and pushed herself back onto her feet. "You wouldn't be missing much....but you'll get the chance to experience it sometime I'm sure." She slipped her boots on and started to head for the outside world. "I'm gunna take a walk...I need some air."


She wouldn't bother with her armor or even chainmail for the outing, just a simple dark green tunic with loose dark pants, her boots and her ever trusty arming sword. Whatever level of hope she had to avoid awkwardness by entertaining Marnie's conversation was smashed to bits as soon as she made her exit. Approaching from not too far off was the man of the hour, Sir Alexander Vallane himself. She was visibly surprised to see him. And to make things worse it looked like he had something to say.


"Alex...."

 

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL


"Doesn't matter why it escalated," Ceril grumbled, still supporting Aleida's weight on his shoulders as they hobbled away from the scene. "It did and it can't happen again."


The Prince sat Aleida down while he rifled through his tent supplies for a wash cloth. Once located, Ceril soaked the rag in a water basin and returned to Aleida with it and a cup of wine. He handed her the wine and draped the cloth gingerly around the back of her neck in an attempt to remedy the bruises that would surely follow. Taking a seat for himself, the Prince sighed and paused to gather his thoughts and words before speaking once more.


"Our success relies on our cohesion as a complete unit -- you know that as well as I do. There is no leeway for unrest, dissent, treachery or any of the sort on our fragile balance, for such doubt in us as leaders and commanders will only follow with more loss. More failure." Ceril pursed his lips into a tight frown, "I'm not scolding you like a child, because we're better than that -- I'm merely reminding you that everything you and I say and do could mean a life lost or a life preserved."


Even only catching the tail of the argument between Kepheus and her, he knew precisely what had set her off and couldn't possibly begin to blame her for it. The disappearance of her father was such a sensitive topic that Ceril himself did not feel appropriate talking to Aleida about. Though the Prince appreciated and admired the extraordinary knight that had raised him better than his own father ever could, there was no equal for the utmost respect that Aleida had for her father. Not for a moment would she consider her father dead, unless her own eyes bear witness to it.


The Prince already had to write one death letter and it was already one too many. His thoughts drifted for the first time onto the possibility that perhaps none of them at all would make it out of the Veil; something unimaginable to him prior, until the awakening that was Amelia's death. What if Sir Gregory was already dead? Were the rest of them just dead men walking? Konoha's words of recent echoed back in assurance to the prickling dread that threatened to crawl up his spine.


'When we return...'


When they return, they will have accomplished their mission against unimaginable odds. When they return, family and friends will be reunited, lives will resume. When they return, Ceril will once more tread the path to make right the sins of his fathers. Right. If was not a luxury made available to them on this venture, therefore, they must return for the sake of everyone.


"We'll find him and we'll win like we always do." Ceril stood and spoke, not only to comfort Aleida but himself as well.


(@Poe)

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

Ceril scolded her with due cause, his words settling in her tired heart like heavy stones. What had happened between her and Kepheus was petty, yes, but she was simply trying to subdue any unrest around the campfire. He had been spewing nonsense about Amelia’s death being nothing in the grand scheme of things and while, yes, they could not let the loss cripple them, it did not change the fact that they were responsible for her well being and failed. A young woman sworn by duty had been slaughtered by these monstrous creatures who lurked within the fog.


The damp cloth touched the back of her neck and Aleida’s posture seemed to relax a bit, her hands finding the cup of wine in her lap. She knew his words to be true, but she could not stand to bring up the idea that perhaps there was doubt being directed towards her. That Kepheus thought her a spoiled companion of the Prince and the other believed her nothing more than something pretty to sit at the Prince’s side. Aleida had received those comments her entire life and perhaps there was a small part of her that thought the density of the fog would blur lines and she could truly help Ceril. For if the fog blurred their positions, one truth would still remain — Aleida was loyal to Ceril, not the crown.


But there was a silence between them now that was not uncomfortable as it was an unnerving meeting of two strong souls realizing that neither knew what to do within the Veil. Yes, they had to remain together but how long would it be before the others no longer respected the hierarchy of command? After all, Kepheus was nothing but a soldier and he had already dare not just to speak out of line to a superior but to go so far as to physically confront her and that did not seem like it was all. Everyone was tense it saturated the air in unrest, and with that unrest Aleida willed with every last bit of her mind to remember what her father would have done. He would have found a way, she realized. He would have found a way to protect everyone, regardless of feelings or tensions.


Ceril’s words struck her deeply, causing her hands to tighten on the cup of wine for a moment. Images of her father dancing through her mind — all the years she and Ceril had spent as children learning from the man who had taught them both so much — and it was the first moment they’d ever acknowledged his disappearance since the evening her mother got the report. With all the strength she could muster, Aleida stopped Ceril from moving with her hand in his, holding it for a single moment and then another, before letting his fingers slip through hers. “When we return, we will return together.”


“Even if I have to tie Kepheus to Rowan and drag his bitter old arse back,” Aleida said with a bit more light in her expression, the cup of wine coming to her lips almost immediately as she near finished it off in one go. As usual, Aleida had taken the thought of her father and buried it back where she needed it to be hidden. Far from view and far from her heart.


(@Coin)

 

[Pequeno Burraidh]

The whole situation was a mess. Kepheus was no doubt angry, and Prince Ceril had, even if it was justified, showed his hand with his favouritism. Personally Konoha hadn't had reason to argue with Prince Ceril's actions, as Kepheus had been the aggressor. It didn't change anything save for the faint echoes of Kepheus' words on her ears, and her own thoughts rumbling and tumbling about with in her mind. In fact those words more than anything made her realise what she wanted, and what may be needed.


Rising from her spot, and leaving the blanket to lay on her groundspread, Konoha walked through the people of the camp as they let their awe or fear, and even anger, with the prince cloud their minds. Like the cold, these details fell numbly against Konoha as she strode through the camp with . During her walk she made a path right past the kindling pile and scooped up a single stick without even stopping as she strode by.


Right up to her target she went, heedless of anything until she stood an easy two metres from him, with her eyes locked on his back. It was only now that she uttered words.


"Inciting of Lady Aleida and Master Prince Ceril earns no favour, Warrior Kepheus Kerboros, but merit is carried in words. I have been winning off of fortune. You have been winning off of luck. You want change, old man? You want servants to carry weight? Then you need be of like old man from my land. Wisdom is key, they learn knowledge to children, so that children grow strong. They do not bitterly, yes bitterly, sit and draw ire and complaining of problems with younger generation but not do aught to fix problem." she boldly accused, her dealings with the prince having driven her ability to step up as she threw the cheap kindling at the elder sir's back, "Turn around and learn me you knowledge. Learn me how to be winning off of skill and not off of fortune."


Raising her staff up in 'at ready' stance Konoha honestly expected Kepheus would turn around and beat the hellfire out of her, but the point was to get a message across, even at her own expense. That and if things should go well she would also have the fortune to garner knowledge that she could ultimately put to use in keeping the ones she intended on protecting safe.

 

[Effervescent]

Alexander Vallane

​

Departing Arabella for the night, Alexander's sense of his knightly duties returning slowly that sunk his shoulders further and further to a slump. It was the first time he had ever encountered the girl on such a personal level, but he knew how responsible he was for past hurt. He let his compassion control his words to maybe give her some semblance of hope which resulted in promising his bow to an individual who could quite possibly shoot her own by accident due to inexperience and fear. His mind was carried away, but not enough so that he would not be reminded of the chilled plates upon his frame that clattered with each step. Alexander made his way to his tent, almost with haste, as if he had to rid himself of his armor lest he suffocate.


Relieving himself of his armor brought the chill closer to his bones. All the padding and layers were stripped leaving him frustrated and wishing he could find himself comfort in some manner. He adorned his cloak and clasped the ends close to him as he exited the tent and into the fog. Alexander's feet then carried him closer to Lady Edina's tent, his jaw setting as he mulled over the countless possibilities of how his report would be received.His steps slowed briefly as he heard Prince Ceril call out, his eyes shutting slightly in disbelief as he saw the seasoned warrior Kepheus at the brunt of the prince's fury. A small sigh escaped his lips, his exhaustion from the night's events both life threatening and and disheartening weighing him down further. It seemed his own cell was in disarray as well.Snapping him back to the present was the sound of his nickname so informal and so reminiscent of better times. Alexander's head shot up as he halted in his tracks. Had Lady Edina not said anything, it was likely he would have run straight into her."Edina," he replied, and cleared his throat. Her more casual appearance caused his memory to lapse in his task briefly, and he stood before her with his mouth slightly agape. "I..." He shook his head and glanced away, at first to Prince Ceril and Kepheus, and then behind him towards Arabella. "I have to report that the servant under your watch, Miss Dane, sustained injury today both in combat with the Mockeries and in an altercation with Northwode. I've handled Northwode, but Miss Dane seemed disoriented and unable to fully complete her tasks. I have relieved her of her duties for the night."


It seemed that Alexander just as dumbfounded of Edina's appearance as she was of his. For a moment they were both still, and she hoped that was just passing by. But that was shot out the air as he replied. She shifted her stance, and the surprised look on her face began to melt into something more neutral as Alex searched for his words. She'd utilized this moment to get on the defensive again, even with thoughts of the past lingering fresh in her mind. Her gaze shifted from his face and to the empty mist to her side, away from camp. She listened intently to the report given and nodded, giving a sigh. "That's....expected." She crossed her arms and shook her head. "I'd imagine that altercation is what I was hearing earlier. Whatever the case may be, I won't take action against her for the time being. The Prince has done a good enough job driving home the point of keeping conflict to a minimum." She looked back towards him, much more collected this time. "I'll talk to her in the morning. I'm no stranger to doing things on my own, so I won't be helpless." She nodded towards the tent. "Marnia is not in the best shape either after today's events so it'll be a humbling time without the full support of either of them." She rocked lightly on her feet and fished for a response. "And your cell seems to have fallen on hard times as well..." A pause as she read his face, his body language. Stress? Sadness? Frustration? "How are you faring after today's fight?"


Alexander ignored her inquiry as his mind latched onto her previous words. "Take action against her?" he repeated. "I've already repremanded Gwendalin, but Miss Dane made a minor mistake. It's not a mistake important enough for punishment, and it is not entirely her fault due to her injuries. She just needs rest away from strenuous work."


Edina's features sunk further into neutrality at the backlash to her words. "I did not say my action would be absolute. I'd much rather talk it over with her myself. As it stands half of my cell members are hurt badly. I'm not heartless enough to cause any more pain to either of them. Even you should know that."


Alexander's mouth opened and froze as her words registered. He snapped his mouth shut, a frown forming before he spoke again in a more calmer tone. "My apologies," he said, his fingers combing through the mess of brown hair on his head. "My behavior was inexcusable. I know in my heart you would not be so apathetic."His breath escaped him in a heavy sigh. "It seems I am physically better off than most here." With that, Alexander eyed Edina over objectively. "How are you fairing?"


Edina's tense shoulders fell into a slump as her hands found their way down to her waist. "It's fine, you did right to defend against more...conflict." She relented with a sigh before taking a step towards him. "I'd say about the same. A few bumps and bruises, but I can still swing a sword, ride a horse and hold a lanceso I'd say I came off well." She continued towards him and motioned with her head towards the edge of camp for him to follow her. While she certainly trusted her squire, there were still some aspects of her personal life that she'd want to keep separate from the girl for the time being. She began again once they'd reached an acceptable distance. The short and silent trek gave her enough time to soften her features. "I'm worried, though, Alex. The injured won't last another engagement of that size. And our numbers are thin. I'd left the farmhouse with new resolve, but even I can't shake the feeling that it may be better to turn around now."


Alexander followed Edina as she led him away from the tent. It was a natural reaction for the knights to be so private about their own affairs, and it came as a relief to see she wished to be open with him once again. His head nodded in agreeance to her words, his voice lowered to keep the conversation between them as private as possible. The density of the fog aided in the illusion of privacy, the line of sight so veiled by the vapors that clouded their surroundings. It almost felt to Alexander as though they were alone, so far removed from the others yet being only a stone's throw away from the soft murmurs and crackling campfires."You know as well as I do turning around is not an option," Alexander responded. "Too much is at stake, not just for the prince but for the kingdom. We're going to have to find a way. And if we don't..." His voice trailed off, and his gaze settled on the silhouettes of their comrades through the fog. "Now that we know what we are up against, we know we're too weak to combat this foe as we are. Retreating to bolster our numbers and capabilities with actual knowledge of what is in here would be the smarter route. I don't see Prince Ceril calling a retreat, and I fear he may drive us all to our deaths knowingly." He swallowed hard as the treasonous words escaped his lips without care.


@Space Cowboy Ein

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Lady Edina Maplecroft


"Turning around is an option." She retorted with a sigh. "Just not the most flashy one." She followed his gaze back to camp and shook her head. "There was a reason we never got the rest of our allotted supplies and troops. We were set up for failure. Sabotaged, likely." The words dropped hard from her lips with a bitter tone as she knew the trouble that could come from speaking such words. "Petty court politics. I thought I'd grow into it, live up to my role as the young matriarch. But I've grown to hate it, and yet.... I'm too far in to leave it alone." She remained silent for a moment and recalled that Alex had a similar view on such things. She'd likely never admit he was right entirely, but he had a better grasp on these things than she did at the time. But now, when emotions were not so high, and she had a clear mind, she could understand. "He'd be a fool to drive us forward. But I guess that all depends on what exactly we find at Pratchett. Then it's likely we'll have to make a very tough decision of following logic, or following orders. To be frank, I don't want either of us to meet our end out here........" She fell silent, realizing that she had likely said too much of what was on her mind. These truly were dangerous words to be speaking.


As the hope between them faltered, Alexander's brow furrowed, and he looked over at Edina with concern. "We should prepare ourselves for the worst, but work towards the better with all we can," he said to her. "Should we talk to him? You've always been better at politics than I have. Would Prince Ceril listen to our advice at all, or would he be too driven to succeed within the Veil due to the underhanded attacks on the mission? I don't know if he can or will swallow his pride for the sake of all these lives both present and outside the fog. We carry with us valuable enough information to merit a worthy retreat. Perhaps then he can receive the proper reinforcements and supplies."


Edina met eyes with Alexander finally and hoped that what pieces of the veil remained between them could hide the warmth coming to her cheeks. Alexander was always the more hopeful of the pair, and Edina was the more grounded, at least she thought. And sometimes she might have been too grounded. She tossed the idea of conversing with Ceril over their position in the veil and whether or not retreat was a viable option. In the end, she nodded. "It would be worth a shot. I mean, we've done mostly what we set out to do. Going any further in, especially past Pratchett with what we have now is suicide. But what we've seen...the condition that we're in...it will be the proof we need to convince those above us that action should be taken." Of course, now she was getting hopeful. Still... "It's good to know I've got you at my back for this." She added with a small smile.


A smile spread his lips softly as he noted Edina's change in demeanor. "Aye, I do," Alexander said. "I know...things between us did not end so well. But I was young and stubborn. I'll always have your back regardless. We've been through too much together for me to throw it all away on petty differences. I still view you as my friend."


"We were both young and stubborn." She responded with a small chuckle, eyes cast to the ground for a moment. "I was put into a position I wasn't ready for, to care for a family that could have done without me and I pushed away an important person in my life. What we said was hurtful, and I'd likely have held onto that until we came here." Gods, she couldn't have been more exposed. The ice cold demeanor she'd been growing for so long had gone and now she was melting like butter. Her eyes met with his again, she could feel that warmth returning. "If....we don't die out here. I'd..like to be able to pick up what pieces remain and well....see where things go from there."


In the memory of their past and all the things said, Alexander lowered his head, eventually nodding at her suggestion. "I would like that," he said, and looked back up at her. "I've neglected more than just my birthright these past ten years. I've found myself regretting things a lot more than I should. I don't regret coming here into the Veil. I thought I did at first, but it looks as though it has allowed us to start rebuilding what we burned so long ago. Now we just have to make it out. Though... I suppose that means we'd be coming back regardless if we retreat now..." His voice trailed off as he lost himself in the thought, his brow furrowing as his moment, meant to be endearing, was dashed by logic.


Edina was relieved to see that Alexander felt the same way and nodded in agreeance with his words. She'd become more relaxed, finding that they were truly on the same page. "I suppose it does." She echoed. "Maybe this veil was a test...a part of fate brought upon us by God. For whatever we've done in the past, our actions here, our penance behind the veil, may absolve us of that." Without much of a warning she closed the distance between the two and tugged him by his shirt collar into a seconds long kiss. When she finished she looked him in the eyes. "When we were a team, there was nothing we couldn't do. Nothing here, not Ceril nor the Mockery, could match the fury of my mother. So we may still make it out, those who are left, in once piece."


Alexander stiffly responded to Edina's kiss. It was completely unexpected to the knight, and before he could relax into the kiss, their lips parted. Already he regretted his reaction. It was likely akin to kissing a wall. He begged to God for a do over, but of course, he would have to live with his lapse in life. Would it be appropriate to instigate another kiss?"Aye, your mother was a true creature of nightmares," he said after he regained his bearings. He ran his fingers through his hair again, his index finger getting caught in a tangle. He tried to push through the tangle as nonchalantly as possible, his right eye squinting against the slight sting as the strands were pulled in protest, all the while wondering how Edina could look so well put together. Finally, once his fingers found release from the tangle, he lowered his hand and grabbed her own, giving it a slight squeeze. "We all have a fighting chance if we work together and not lose hope."


A breath escaped her lips as Edina realized what she'd just done when he grabbed her hand. "Y-you're right." The heat was finding its way up to her cheeks as she looked down to their hands and squeezed back. "I won't lose hope. I've got even more to look forward to now.."


He released her hand, a smile on his lips as he nodded towards the camp. "When do you think we should confront Prince Ceril?"


"In the next night, hopefully when we reach Pratchett. There's been enough upheaval and unrest for the evening." Her gaze followed his to the camp. "For now I think it would be best that we all get some rest and give the proper people their time to mourn. How does that sound?"


Another sigh escaped Alexander as he suddenly felt impatient in the matter. It all felt as though waiting one more night could mean the end of everyone. He have Edina a reluctant not. "Aye," he said. "We still have Pratchet to go." He gave pause, readying himself to head back towards the camp but stopping himself short. "I'm glad we've come around again, Edina."


Edina had elected to stay back while Alex passed back towards the camp. She was still going to need the night air to cool off. "Me too. Hopefully it wasn't too late." She responded with a weak smile. "I'll see you in the morning, Alex."

 

[Doctor Jax]

Marnia Belhund & Arabella Dane

​

Now this was an interesting development. Marnia frowned inquisitively after Edina as she got up after letting her hair down. Rarely did she go out with her hair unbound or without her armor, and even less without chainmail. That was... strange. Marnie sat up and was about to say something after the retreating knight, but she was already out the door. Was it something she'd said...?


The young woman winced as her swollen brow panged after she'd lifted both her eyebrows at her master's retreating back. Looking out into the dank world beyond her tent, Marnie herself realized that she herself would not get much sleep today either... Perhaps it was time to take a walk. After all, she'd been told she needed to get some exercise if this rib was to get better. With that, she got up and headed towards what she thought was Arabella's tent. The girl was the closest thing she had to a friend, and so far she'd been particularly helpful on this journey.


"Oi, anyone up in 'ere?" she whispered at the tent opening, leaning down and trying to ignore the fire in her chest.


After several seconds and the sound of what might have been something being tripped over, followed swiftly by soft pain-filled swearing, Arabella pulled back the tent flap and peered out.


"Oh, Marnie! I... Did Sir Vallane tell you to come?"


Marnie scrunched up her brow and asked, "Sir Vallane? Nah, I been havin' a walk. Kinda hard to sleep 'round here these days, y'know."


She rubbed the knot on her face pensively before looking at Bella's face and noticing the split lip. That hadn't been there before, had it? Seemed split lips were as contagious as pox around here, what with Ko gettin' one too. Goodness, and it was a wonder Marnie escaped without one.


"What happened 'ere?" Marnia asked, pointing to her lip with a deft finger.


Blinking, Arabella lifted a hand to her lip with a soft frown, "Ah. That. I... I'm afraid I incited the wrath of Miss Northwode, with that. It's nothing, really. I'll heal. Are you alright? You didn't look at allwell when we arrived back to camp. I've been quite concerned."


Marnia's eyebrows drew together, much to her regret.Gwendalin? She --!?However, Arabella had already moved on to the next thing. Marnia sat on the ground outside her tent, gently resting a sore back end on to the hard stony ground and wincing.


"Well, I, ah... I'm not at my best. Prolly got some broken ribs, a few knocks here and there, but I'll live. It's me job to get beat up."


"Seems all our jobs, these days. And we aren't doing such a great deal of damage in return. But then I suppose having gotten this far, we ought to be glad. Poor Amelia can't say the same."


Marnie felt the mood plummet at the mention of Amelia's name, and she rubbed her arm sheepishly. To be honest she hadn't known the girl well -- just seen her in the kitchens, where Marnie spent a good bit of her time. Still, the death of another person weighed heavily on all of them, but perhaps on Bells the most.


"How're you doin' with tha'? I know it's a might shock, y'know, it so fresh 'n everythin'... but it kin help to talk 'bout it sometimes," Marnie offered quietly. Realizing that it might be a littletooearly for that, she added, "But ye don't have to if'n ye don't want ta. Otherwise, I'mma just talk 'bout how I'm regrettin' not snoggin' some a the boys I met 'fore I got in this blasted fog."


"...Not well, I'm afraid. I keep expecting her to come back... to walk into the tent, say hullo and curl up to sleep. That I'll wake up tomorrow to find her busy with breakfast..." Smiling dryly, sadly, she looked up, "I think I'd much rather hear about those boys..."


Marnia knew that kind of heartache. When her brothers had left on their adventures, they'd come back with stories of places they'd been, things they'd seen. Reliving old tales around the fire, they'd talk about hunting parties and the flubs Marnie's cousins had committed. And then, just like that, they disappeared into the Veil, and no word ever came back. Marnie had waited what seemed like ages for them to come back, holding out hope. And here, Bella must be feeling that same numb feeling, expecting inertia over life to continue. Sometimes, you needed a little denial in your life, just to keep going. Couldn't hurt to keep up the charade, just get her mind off it.


Marnia nudged her gently with a shoulder despite her protesting ribcage and said, "Speakin' a men, lemme tell ya... them capital boys ain't worth a farthin'. It's them farmboys ye wanna go for. They're hungry, they got themselves a strong back, and sure, they ain't fine on the eyes, but they got what matters." Marnie paused a moment before adding, "Cookin' skills."


It was the first time Arabella had genuinely laughed since entering the veil, and while it hurt, it was so entirely worth it, she couldn't care less about the pain, "Oh, really? Well, I wouldn't know much about that. I'm not much to look at, Marnie... and I'm certainly no prize in any other departments of interest. But if I make it out of here, I will certainly have to investigate this theory. Though if I'm honest... I think I prefer a more nobler profession..."


Marnie gave her an open-mouthed look of mock offense. What? Not pretty?Nobler profession?!What nobler profession was there than feeding the people of Regalis!


"Don't ye undersell yerself, there, lassie, cuz I kin say I ain't winnin' no fair maid kerchief from some duelist -- lookit this! -- 'n I got all sorts fallin' at me feet!" Course, they weren't always the savory types, but that wasn't the point. The point was, there were men out there who'd take anything. Absolutely anything. Even mouthy, scarred, reject wives.


"When we get outta here, I'll take ye to the finest tavern that side a the River. You can test the theory to your heart's content, 'n I'll be there to make sure ain't no one gettin' a little too comfortable with ye. Not many wanna mess with the girl whose drinkin' sister got a sword on her hip."


Another laugh, and Arabella shook her head, "That will certainly be a first for me. But I can't say it doesn't exciting. I think I may just have to survive to see to it we get the chance."


"That's a good goal to have..." Marnie muttered with a slight smile. Honestly, for her, hope was dimming that they would ever make it out. She doubted she'd ever see her brothers again. And in the shape they were in, it seemed even less likely that they were going to make it out with as many people as they had. They'd lost one already. And it looked like they were going to keep going.


"Speaking of which... I know I gave y' a dagger, 'n I seen you had another one. You know how to use it?" she asked.


"The other belonged to Lady Aleida. I meant to return it to her, before... well, before this..." She murmured, pointing to her split lip with an ironic smirk. "I know a fair bit. I'm better with a bow, though my father taught me with anything I could hold. It's just... even if I wasn't too terrified to move when they show up, those things... knowing what they were, before they before they became what they are. The idea that I could be killing someone innocent, beneath that awful form... It's difficult to reconcile."


Marnia nodded along to her responses, and she finally said, "Well... I got a bow ye can use. I ain't got a sword anymore, but I'm more handy with my other dagger anyhow. I were a tracker 'n potential castle's wife before all this, so I'm more comfortable with laundry than with lances." She nodded for Bella to follow her toward the supply wagon, and she rummaged in the back. Luckily, it seemed that her weapons remained. Her heart tugged for the dagger that had been lost, but that couldn't be helped. It wasn't Bella's fault it was thrown out of the wagon.


Marnia produced her bow and her quiver of arrows, dragging along her bag as well. She walked at a slow pace, limping noticeably. From a distance, it was obvious she was in no fit shape to be fighting, but you did what you had to do to get by, and being sore was better than being dead.


"Here ya are. Go ahead. We could use another archer. I'll be up and personal with them things anyhow," Marnia sighed. She hoped Bella could handle the ashwood bow. It had a very high draw strength, but then again it was a combat bow, not a regular hunter's bow.


Taking the bow, Bella ran her hand along the wooden curve, plucked the taut strand that made up the string, "I couldn't take this, Marnie. You handled it marvelously that first day, with the Mockery. Besides, Sir Vallane's offered me the use of his. He doesn't use it, much..."


Holding it out in front of her, her hand caressing the trunk she sighed softly, "...It's been too long."


Realizing that Bella had already acquired a bow, from the rather charitable Ser Vallane, it seemed, Marnie nodded. "He's a righteous man, ain't he? How long's it been since y' drew string?" It would be good for them to get some practice. It'd help them while the night away, and perhaps they might even scare away what spirits might haunt the night... along with other things.


"He certainly is... I'm certain were it not for his interjection, I would not have fared so well with Miss Northwode." Frowning, she held the bow up to posture, "Three years, give or take... Since my father passed."


"Ah. Well, a bit a practice couldn't hurt, could it?" Marnie asked with a lopsided grin, though behind it she felt slightly disingenuous. The girl's father had also died... She seemed to have the worst run of luck, it seemed. "Here, we can take a few shots over 'ere, ain't no one around."


She led Bella a bit past her own tent at a hobble, just at the edge of the camp, not so far as to stray away from the light of the fire, yet enough that a stray arrow would pose no harm to anybody. She pointed to a sycamore with its white trunk, standing out in the copse of other, darker wooded trees.


"At one looks good... So, ah... what did you do? 'Fore all this," Marnia asked as she strung her bow.


"Honestly, not much. I helped my father at his forge, we hunted... When I was old enough, I went into service."


Pulling an arrow free from the quiver, Arabella notched it, pulling back on the string, "After he was killed, I left our home and became a servant, full time."


Steady-handed, she breathed out, and with the exhalation, released the arrow, the tip burrowing deep into the bark of the tree.


"I suppose it comes back you..."


Marnia whistled low as the shot hit its mark. Well, God have it, she was a good marksman. Wouldn'tthathave been helpful. Marnia nodded along and said, "Funny, I was much th' same with me brothers. When I weren't embroiderin' 'r learnin' conversationalist tactics, I were out wi' them, huntin' and trackin' and doin' the like."


Marnie drew her own bow and let loose in something like four seconds, her arrow bouncing off the side of the trunk and into the woods. Well, there went another arrow... She made a face, then looked at Bella.


"Sorry to hear 'bout your dad. Really. You got my sympathies," Marnia said, looking back out towards the mist and her missed target.


"Thank you... really." Looking up, Bella smiled gently, "It was so long ago, but I don't suppose those things really ever hurt any less."


Turning her gaze away, she gestured to where the arrow had gone, "Shall I retrieve it?"


Marnie looked off into the woods and winced. Aaaah... perhaps not the best idea, given their circumstances. Who knew whatelsemight be in the woods this late at night? Not to mention, she could always go and get it in the morning. Arrows weren't easy to make, but the materials were there, if you were creative enough to figure out how to use what you have.


"Maybe in th' morn'. Wouldn't want them boogeymen to get ye," Marnie said, hip-checking her playfully before grimacing and grabbing her side. "Oy molly, I got to remember that's broken..."


Arabella nodded with a small, tight laugh and shook her head, "Good point. You should probably get back to resting... Really, we both should, if we're to be any use tomorrow."


"Use... the most I'll be useful fer is bait," Marnie groaned with a slight smile, taking a moment to catch her breath. She put up the bow and slung her quiver at her hip before turning to walk back towards her tent -- maybe Edina was back -- and get some shuteye.


"You take care, hear?" Marnie said after Arabella. "You need anything, call me! Wake me up, even if it's just ta have a buddy to take for a piss!"


"And same to you, Marnie..." Arabella smiled, gave the girl and a nod, then started off back in the direction of her tent.

 

[korigon]

Kepheus found himself retreating the campfire in good order, somehow still managing a smug look. If Ceril had even served in his kingdom's army, he would have known that fighting between the ranks was a common, even expected, experience. Even battlefield commanders engaged on duels from time to time. Forcing his hand against his ally was just another natural action. But perhaps Ceril had never witnessed a group of soldiers leaving a tavern, or the eve of the battle. Had he only seen the glossy exterior of the military, and assumed it was an orderly, respecting bunch? Surely he was not that naive.


He continued walking around his tent, in circles, probably looking delirious to any spectator.His thoughts drifted to other matters, specifically alcohol, but he could not discover any other flask he had hidden away. Kepheus bemoaned the loss, realizing that he only had one bottle left. How would he survive with these irrelevant auxiliaries without liquor? Would he be forced to sustain himself on the poor quality wine that was served every other night or so? The horror! The horror!


Bereaved and in silent mourning, Kepheus was interrupted by a flurry of words coming from someone behind him. The words were choppy and hard to understand, and the speaker finally threw something at his back as he finished. Turning around, more tired than just irritated, Kepheus stared at the figure. Definitely not a he. It was one of the servants he had seen closer to the prince, a woman by the name of Kabano or Kohano, or some other name of the sort. Whatever language she was speaking, Kepheus could pick up bits and pieces of it.


"Someone should teach you to speak like a normal human being, you twig-faced, five-foot stack of excrement," Kepheus said sourly, turning around and crushing the piece of kindle under his foot. "It sounds as if you're chewing rocks. Don't! Don't you say anything else. You'll make my ears bleed. And stop looking at me with that stick, your unsightly mug makes me want to vomit." Kepheus took three steps foward, closing the gap between them as he stared at Konoha with a fault-finding eye. "You'll be about as useful with a spear as my urine is to drink, but I'll teach you. Tomorrow. Rest today, and be ready after the next dinner."


@Veirrianna Valentine

 

[Pequeno Burraidh]

Konoha grinned as she drew a reaction. Maybe one less violent than she expected but it was a reaction regardless, with Kepheus agreeing to train her. Though she had to admit it, it was for the best they'd be waiting for the morrow. Besides, if there was a real reason the man needed to vomit, it would have been the fact that his words were slurred with drink and he was catching whiffs of his own breath. And five foot? Hah, as if shed ever allow herself to be that tall and big a target. No, she was under five foot and that worked all the more in her favour. But Kepheus could be angry, or surly, or as grumpy as he wished as long as he did more for the group than kill Mockeries and piss everyone off... or piss himself in his drunkenness.


A smug look from her victory and a relieved look as she stepped away from his alcohol infused breath followed as Konoha wandered back away on her own. Initially she'd planned on heading towards her tent, but a second look reminded her that they were a number of tents shy due to their lack of a supply wagon. It would have bothered her more if she hadn't been so exhausted and she instead simply dragged her ground spread a metre and a half from the fire and laid down under her thick fur blanket, turning to look up at the starry night sky through the errant smoke of the fire.


Next dinner. She'd be training then. She understood that versus and aged fighter she may not seem like much. Small, thin, runs about with a spear, which is often regarded as a commoners weapon in thee lands, but what he didn't know was that she had brought knowledge of her home with her. She also wasn't going to use her recent successes against the mockeries though, because as stated, they were winnings of Fortune. Smiling broadly Konoha started to close her eyes at how well the night had summed up, despite some of the other flaws that took place.

 

[Effervescent]

Alexander Vallane

​

Departing from Edina left Alexander in a haze as dense as the fog around him. Was it the possibility of death that had his friend and former lover back so readily to make peace once again, or was it truly within the woman's heart to forgive him as he had slowly come to do with her. His steps carried him further back to camp, the orange glow of the campfire refracting off the vapors that surrounded him. Within the Veil lied monsters and hideous mysteries, but outside the Veil felt just as horrific now more than ever. Edina could rediscover her hatred for him. He would have to face his family and break the charade to insure the Vallane name did not go unsullied by his brother's atrocities. It reminded him of the times he would run away from it all as a child; the times where he rode off for miles until he reached the outskirts of Etheldred and played the time away as just a simple boy named Alex with no ties to nobility or responsibilities therein. For days he'd go missing as he spent it camping in the woods and messing around with the boy named Quinn Northwode.His thoughts seemed to have controlled even his path, and suddenly the knight found himself before Gwendalin, his brow set low with the thoughts of the past. He cleared his throat before addressing her formally at first. "Northwode."


A familiar voice had broken the calming trance of her work and Gwendalin looked up to see who had caused the disturbance. She knew it. A knight like Sir Vallane wouldn't let her go that easily. It wasn't to say that Gwendalin began to feel pangs of guilt for what she had done. The servant deserved her physical punishment one-hundred percent. Rather, Gwendalin was not looking forward to having to defend herself against something she didn't deserve."Sir Vallane," her distorted voice greeted as she wiped down the face of her shield. "I thought we had an understanding."


His teeth set, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he recalled the altercation earlier. Gwendalin didn't appear to have let it go, and thus he was pulled back into the memory of her hand striking the servant girl. It reminded him of his brother, and he did not wish to associate him with Gwendalin."Will your armor be salvageable?" he asked simply.


"Why does the condition of my plate concern you?" she replied. The pace and tension through her smithing practice seemed to accelerate. Suddenly, she realized she had made a careless mistake as the shade of the metal turned a shade too dark, and in her frustration, she threw the dirtied cloth into the fire.


"You said it was crafted by your father, correct?" Alexander asked. Her demeanor made it difficult for the knight to remain as calm as he usually could muster. For now, his tone remained methodical, the softness of his voice faltering.


"You've got a great memory, Sir Vallane," Gwendalin remarked as she began to gather her belongings. She was nowhere near complete with all of her things, but they would just have to wait. The slight stain in her shield would also have to do, for now. There was no harm in the deformed spot, although it was easily not as aesthetically appealing as the rest of her work.


His lips pursed as he noted her gathering her things, and stooped down in an effort to help. Collecting every piece of armor at once had always been a cumbersome task. Alexander had always handled each piece on their own, for the most part, especially since his suit was rather old. His eyes scanned over the craftsmanship of Gwendalin's armor as he reached to pick up a piece. "He did a fine job," Alexander said. "He must be proud to see you wear it."


"Don't touch it!" she hissed as she attempted to swat his hold away from her armor. Admittedly, the task to carry each piece of her set would have been impossible without someone's help, but that had not been Gwendalin's initial mission. Instead, she had concluded to bring one-half of the set after the other back to her tent, but this plan had been foiled when Sir Vallane seemed to be feeling generous. Touching Gwendalin's armor was almost as bad as having it christened with wine. In the end, Gwendalin gave up, placed her things down once more, and returned to her seat beside the fire. "What do you want?"


Alexander retracted as soon as Gwendalin expressed her distaste. His hand was swatted away, and he straightened his stance once again as his features adorned frustration. "Why are you acting like this, Gwendalin?" he asked. "I meant no harm. I've handled a lot of suits in my day. We're going to need you to get past whatever this is so that we can all get home alive and in one piece. This is far too much dysfunction."


Gwendalin's emotions had reached their boiling point and she looked away from the knight to hide this fact. "Sir Vallane," she addressed. "I don't need your help."


"I know you don't," Alexander added, his calm demeanor now faltering to display his frustration more readily. "I know you're a capable woman. We just need you at your best. Your mind included. Please, let whatever this is go."


She let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose we never had an understanding," she began to explain as she turned to glare at him. "Sir Vallane, I can't let go. I don't have anything else to hold onto. When I said that my father couldn't afford to drag his ass into the Veil, I meant it. I don't joke around. Trust me, I want to figure out what's going on in this Hell hole and get out as soon as possible, but let me correct you, if I let go, no one is getting out of here alive. If I let go, your pretty high horse won't be high enough to save you. If I let go, it means bad news for my family back at home. For my father and my mother and my..." she stopped.


"Your brother?" Alexander said to complete the thought. He remembered how attached she was to Quinn, and it was clear the knight completely missed the point of her pause in sentence. "I don't mean let go of your drive, Gwendalin. I mean let go of this anger. Think of your family. Think of Quinn. He got along with everyone, and it made working things out easier. I'm not saying you have to be friends with everyone, but you should at least get past your differences to function as a team."


How on Earth did he even know she had another family member, let alone a brother, or did he actually know? Maybe he was simply guessing. It seemed reasonable until he mentioned the very name of her deceased sibling. That wasn't good news. Without another consideration, she picked up her blade and quickly stood from her position, with the tip of her sword pointing directly against Sir Vallane. "Who the HELL do you think you are?"


Alexander quickly held his hands up in surrender as Gwendalin's blade unsheathed to point at his chest. The threat was apparent, but he was lost as to what exactly elicited such a violent reaction. "I'm..." Confusion only further set in, his hands stiffly outward in his gesture of surrender as he looked from the tip of her sword to the heated expression upon the warrior's face. "Alex. It's me... I thought you..." He took in a deep breath. "Put that down, Gwendalin. I didn't realize you didn't recognize me. I just assumed... I'm Alex. From Etheldred. I was friends with you and Quinn back... a long time ago."


@Musician

 

[Chordling]

.

 

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL

Spoiler

[media]

[/media]



Ceril was certainly caught off guard by Aleida's hand catching his own, earning a raised eyebrow in curiosity as their fingers interlocked. It was, unexpected, yes, but tightening his grip on her hand as she spoke gave Ceril the assurance he needed that he was indeed doing the right thing by pushing forth in their mission. Above all, it just felt right.


Tell her how you feel.


His servant's words haunted his consciousness uninvited for the second time that night. Never in their childhood, never in their teenage years, not now had Ceril thought of Aleida romantically; were they that transparent to everyone else? It wasn't like that -- it couldn't be like that. Ceril and Aleida had an image to keep, one as leaders in a time of struggle and desperation. It demanded respect, not the rumors of romantic courtship that handmaidens gossiped about within the castle walls. On the other hand, her words comforted him and gave him assured confidence, something no one else was capable of doing so effortlessly.


"Yes, together." Ceril nodded and gave her hand a squeeze, a silent, but understood promise.


(@Veirrianna Valentine)

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arabella Dane

She'd slept. By a small miracle of fortune, for the first time since entering the Veil, even despite the myriad bruises across the length of her body, the awful ache in her head and her back, even despite the horror of knowing what lurked only miles beyond the fog, she managed to sleep. Sleep, however, meant dreams... and Arabella Dane only ever dreamed of one thing.

She hadn't been able to fall asleep that awful night, her mind wrapped, looped around the news her father had given her early in the morning. He had found a knight, a valiant, honorable man, willing to train her up as a squire. The many hours of practicing, the many difficult lectures and lessons had not been vanity, after all. And should she succeed, should the training prove successful, the opportunities presented to her were near limitless. She would no longer be a lowly servant, trapped beneath the boot heel of pretentious nobility...


She would, at least to some degree, be free... and then she could finally give her father the life he deserved....


Through the pitch blackness of her room, the sudden sound of footfall drew her from her thoughts and slowly, Arabella sat up. The steps were too heavy to belong to her father, too early to belong to Timothy, her father's assistant. There was no one else she knew who...


"...It was a good offer, you know..."


It was a voice she would not soon forget - a reminder of a most terrible incident. With ice in her veins, Bella shivered, squinting through the darkness to see the shadow move across her floor. A sliver of moonlight bled through a crack in the ceiling and as he came into the stream she recognized the tall, burly figure from earlier that day, his dark gaze fixed on her. He'd shed his regal outerwear, and no doubt a day of riding on a roughly shod horse had not been kind to his generally manicured appearance. Still, he might have been handsome, were he not certainly a devil.


Shifting, drawing the woolen covers up across her figure like a shield, Arabella fought valiantly against a knot in her throat, tried desperately to cry out for help, but terror had stolen away her voice and what came out was barely a whimper.


In his hand, shining in the moonlight, she could see the tang of a blade, something thick and wet, dripping from the end of it, the tic-tac pattern leaving a small puddle on the earthen floor, beside his boots.


"I'm a fair man. Generous, even. I would have taken very good care of you. But you had to run and tell your father. It's just like a stupid bitch not to know when to keep her mouth shut. Made me look like a damn fool in front of my men. Normally, I would not be so forgiving, but you’ve caught me on a good day, I suppose. I’m willing to give you a chance to rectify your mistake. I would hate, after all for your rash decision to reflect poorly on your father.” Beneath a mask of dark stubble, his lips curved in a mirthless smirk, “It would be… tragic if something unfortunate were to befall him, after all.”


“No!” She whispered, desperately, “No, please. Don’t… don’t hurt him.”


“...Now that, my dear, is really entirely up to you, isn’t it.” In the light of the moon, his grin was all teeth, empty… cold.


“...What do you want? I… I’ll do anything, just please… don’t harm my father.”


“You know what I want.”


Like instinct, the blanket fell from her grasp, her eyes moving to his. Even in her nightdress, she felt exposed beneath the scrutiny of his stare. Slowly, he stepped forward, transferring the blade to his left hand, while his right fumbled. She heard, rather than saw, the rustling, shifting sound, the clang of a belt clasp, hitting the dirt. Looking up, she could just make out his silhouette at the foot of the bed. Her eyes stung with tears.


“...Turn around.” He growled.


“Enough, Calton! We’re going, now!” The unfamiliar voice came from out of nowhere, a hiss through the darkness.


“No. No!” His voice pitched higher, almost a boy’s whine, “I will not be denied this! The bitch owes me!”


"You've gone too far here! I can't protect you from this. They'll hang you!"


“...Let them. I won’t leave until she gives me what’s mine.”


"I will drag you out of here, so help me God."”


“You threatening me, Lex?”


"Let me make it clear. If you touch that girl again I will kill you."


Looking over his shoulder, the man’s glared through the darkness at the figure in the doorway. The silence was deafening, the tension palpable. Then he moved, suddenly, the man, came closer and Arabella cried out as the blade he held swung down, slammed into the headboard of her bed, inches from her ear.


“This isn’t over.” He spat. Then he rose and was gone, he and the stranger in the doorway. Gone, but not really… not ever… For they would both forever haunt her.

Waking with a gasp, Arabella clutched her heart, staring into the dim light of morning, which bled through the edge of her tent flap. The dream faded, as it always did, but this time it carried a thought, terrible and painful… a lingering, dreadful reality she had finally come to realize. The reality she had fought to surpress since their arrival on that first day, since their meal that first night, and the awful feeling of familiarity…


Sir Alexander Vallane was not who he claimed to be…

 

[Doctor Jax]

Marnia, for the first time since entering the Veil, slept soundly. There were no nightmares, there were no terrors, there were no blasted flutes at the break of day-- just Marnie and her slumber. Perhaps it was the drugs she'd taken to instill sleep. Perhaps it was exhaustion. Or maybe that talk with Bella had done her some good. Whatever the case, she woke up slowly and begrudgingly, trying her best to hold on to rest.


When she did awake, she realized that there was probably work to be done, people to help, and things to tend now that they were short a few people after the last skirmish. Her heart dropped to think of it, that they now had one less servant and several limbs less of soldiers, but that was the long and short of it. She was going to have to take the knocks as they came. More than anything, she would've hated to be in Prince Ceril's boots, purely for the sake that he was forced to slog through blood, his own men's and whatever monstrosities happened to be out there.


So, she got up and regretted it, dressed herself in her piecemeal armor, and begun with the most pressing problem -- breakfast. Now, she wasn't hungry -- an effect of the pain, no doubt -- but there were bound to be others who were. She started off by feeding Covil what little feed they'd shored up, before limping her way unsteadily towards the cook fire. Several servants had already started with the breakfast, and Marnie's stomach quit harassing her spine to assault her ankles. This is all we got fer food...? Unhappily, she asked what she could do, and she found herself peeling all of three potatoes for the morning gruel.


"'s all?" Ivar complained when Marnie ladled some into his iron bowl.


"Yea. All's yer gettin'. Gotta feed the worse off first, though if we were goin' by looks..." Marnie taunted with a cheeky smile, and Ivar raised a conspicuous finger at the squire.


"Oi, you with the armor. Yes, you. Come here and take this to the injured. They won't be getting up to collect breakfast, not in the shape they're in," a servant demanded, and Marnie sighed. Well, she was used to getting bossed, at least, so it wasn't like it were a wound to her pride.


Marnie took a few dishes of morning gruel with her, trying to mind her bruised and possibly cracked ribs. She headed towards the tents of the injured and announced, "Well, boys, ye're awfully lucky to be gettin' the best a' Chalet Veil's finest cuisine."


As she was handing out bowls to the few infirm they had, she noticed the commotion around one of the bedrolls outside of a tent, Prince Ceril standing in the weak light. Marnie's quick curiosity spiked and her feet began moving her in their direction as if pulled along by some enchantment. She could see through the entourage members one of their auxiliary swordsmen, his broken arm stuck out in odd places -- and black tar where blood should be. Marnie blanched as she thought of the grime that had splattered on her armor. That stuff... it came out of those things, and... was this man...? Was this what happened when you stayed too long in the Veil?


"I kin keep him comfortable," Marnie offered quietly, her eyes locked on the man who was unresponsive. She'd knelt by more dying than she'd care to say, but that was how life was when something so simple as falling off a roof or getting stuck under a cart were real possibilities. How many good men had accidentally got their hand stuck cut off after a bad logging? How many children stuck beneath cart wheels? "There're some herbs I kin trick together, make it a mite bit less painful. Ain't gonna be no apothecary's draught, but it'll dull it."


@Coin

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

Aleida woke the next morning anything but rested, images of her father burning in her mind. She remembered the way Ceril’s hand had clutched hers, as though her words strengthened his resolve, she just wished they did something for her own nerves. She also wished that the men outside of her tent would wait until first light to congregate outside to gossip like the women at court so often did. It was a very quick way to put Aleida in a sour mood as she loathed nothing more than the women at court, but she found herself listening nonetheless as she readied herself that morning — her fingers lacing her long mane into a braid. They said ‘e’s gonna lose it, one man said, best damn swordsman here, losin’ ‘is damn arm.


When she finally arose and made her way out of the tent, the mumbling stopped and all of the auxiliary who had been there glanced up to her. “What’s this about losing an arm?” Aleida asked, but was met with silence. Aleida was not scary to look at, in truth she was quite the opposite. If she had given her appearance the same attention as the other women at court, Aleida’s beauty would have been unmatched, but born of her father’s heart she often found herself traversing through the forest or training with her bow or sword. It was her attitude that was off putting to some. Not cruel by any means but honest and strong in all the ways a noble woman should not be. If there was a single demure bone in her body, it was her pinky finger or little toe. “You’ve no problem gossiping like young ladies when I am not present, why would the presence of a lady disturb you from continuing?”


“Haudom,” Jerun said, scratching his head as though he’d been caught red handed with something he shouldn’t. “The Prince ordered his arm off, lookin’ for someone to do it, I think, but we’re sure as hell not doing it.”


“Then go make yourself useful and come with me,” Aleida said, starting off towards where she knew Haudom and Ceril would be. “Can’t afford to let your guard down here, especially for a bit of gossip. All of you,” she called out to those she passed who were clearly intrigued by what was happening. “We move to Pratchet at first light. Gwendalin, you’re with me,” she beckoned the wild redhead over.


When she reached the scene, she had already prepared herself for the mangled state of Haudom’s arm. There was a thick, pitch-like paste caked within his arm where blood should be and he was suffering from far more than the crooked and unnatural break of his forearm. There was no doubt that he was suffering from the break itself, but there was something deeper and more sinister at work. He was barely conscious, sweat beading on his brow and breathing shallow. Immediately, Aleida pulled out a handkerchief and made her way over to his side, dabbing the beads of sweat from his forehead while brushing what hair away she could. He had a fever and a high one at that, if they did not amputate he would face serious infection independent of the anomaly massing in his wound.


“Farrah, I need a wood axe from the wagon,” Aleida started delegating duties, “Lydia, a plank of wood, I don’t care what you have to pull it from, just get me one. Gwendalin, I need you to find something to cauterize the wound with.”


“Marnie, keep him as comfortable as you can, yeah?” Aleida said softly, trying to compartmentalize her thoughts to be able to deal with what she was about to do. Everyone else seemed a bit shaken by the thought and while she was as well, Aleida knew that it had to be done and Ceril’s words rung in her head from the previous night. They were leaders and they had to act as such even if that meant amputating the arm of their best swordsman. Crouching down by Haudom, Aleida gave him the handkerchief to bite down on as the women returned with all the supplies she needed. “Place the board under his arm,” Aleida said softly, taking the axe from Farrah and moved over towards his broken arm as she nodded for the remaining men to move. “Ivar, Jerun, Tabor…hold him down,” as Aleida pulled the axe back, she glanced down at her target and couldn't imagine she was about to amputate a man’s arm in the same way her father had explained having to do before in battle. “I’m so sorry,” Aleida said softly, shaking her head as she took a deep breath and brought the blade down with her entire body weight, slicing through the arm with a sickening unnatural sound.


Blood sputtered from the wound as Aleida looked back towards Gwendalin for the cauterization, but the moment she did, poor Dembly was vomiting a few paces away, eyes wide as she looked upon the site. Aleida, too, was queasy at the site but knew it was what they had to do to keep everyone alive in the Veil. “Gwendalin, now,” Aleida said, not an ounce of her frantic nerves touching her rather soft voice.


(@Musician @Doctor Jax @Coin)

 

[Chordling]

.

 

[Effervescent]

Alexander Vallane

​

Alexander woke constantly in the night either from his nightmares or from his mind believing he had heard something outside his tent. Every time he woke, he would rise and search outside, taking a quick patrol before returning to his bedroll once again with more unease than before. By the time he woke the final time the next morning, he heard the muffled sounds of a servant and the following voice of Prince Ceril. A groan escaped him. He felt worse than how he did when he had no sleep. His efforts were fruitless and would likely impair his senses if he did not get rest the following night. As he packed up his bedroll, the sounds of murmurs laden with concern caught the knight's attention.


He exited his tent and into the cool morning. The fog still shrouded his surroundings and held moisture thickly in the air. Every breath it felt as though he would eventually drown himself accidentally. Alexander walked towards the gathered crowd, his eyes falling upon the swordsman Haudom Perry as he stared blankly up at the fog that clouded the sky. The gash upon his sword arm oozed a black substance too thick for blood and too inhuman. He could recall the substance from the Mockery they had fought, and as Ceril gave his order to amputate the arm, the knight began to reel through his mind at the sustained injuries from previous encounters. Exposure to the maisma through opened wound. Who else suffered such an injury?


Thoughts turned to Arabella and her odd behavior. While it could have been just due to a concussion, Alexander still felt a tug of concern for the girl. He was not privy to the extent of her injuries or if she had been exposed to the same substance that now ailed Haudom. He turned away from the group as Aleida grabbed a wood axe to carry on the task of amputation. It was something he had seen many times over in the past, and his curiosity for the success of the procedure was outweighed by his concern for Arabella. He didn't even spare a glance to Gwendalin as he passed by her, last night's encounter far from his mind as he eventually made it to the entrance of the servant girl's tent. His hand reached out for the flap and paused as his brain reminded him of how improper he was about to act. Was this the time for manners? His brief internal debate ended as he cleared his throat.


"Arabella?" he softly called out.