Fantasy Penance Behind the Veil

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL

Spoiler

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When the riders converged, Ceril could still easily discern the panicked clacking of their horses' gallop from the fleshy sloshing and thumping that the Kinslayer made as it gave chase. Ceril could feel the hairs on his neck stand on end with every damp breath and growl that the hunter made. Without even a backwards glance, the Prince knew the bared canines, jagged like stalagmites, were only mere feet away. Ceril gritted his own teeth and prayed Ohry would charge even a hair faster.


"Follow me closely!" Ceril shouted over to Edina and Alexander. "We'll use the beast to ram the gate for us!"


The portcullis to Pratchet towered in height, and the iron bars as thick as a man and not quite fully closed -- too small for a man walk through but enough to crawl. Ceril thanked God that the drawbridge had been lowered, leaving him believe that whoever had attempted to seal the city failed in their attempt. Doubt and fear trickled at the back of his thoughts as they neared at an alarming rate. Would this work?


"On my mark, you two split to the left and I'll go to the right!" Ceril gripped the reins tightly, his body numbing to the adrenaline flowing in his veins.


Just a bit closer.


"Ready!"


A snarl from behind. Almost...


"Now!"


The Prince felt as if he could have let go of his the reins and leaned forward to touch the walls when he pulled Ohry to the right at the last possible moment. He dared not look behind him now to see if his fellow knights also made it, but the sickening crack of the goliath abomination shattering on the thick metal gate told of how the Kinslayer fared. There were no howls or yelps of pain, just the groaning of bent metal and the wet impact of a ton of meat and tissue splattering on stone walls. Ceril turned Ohry around when he no longer heard the distinct sounds of the monster but immediately regretted it when he saw a scene most gruesome. Heaps of bodies and stray bones lay scattered, near the gate, the shape of the once wolf-like creature indiscernible anymore.


Ceril rode back to his knights who had also managed to escape rather unscathed from their stunt and managed to choke out a coherent suggestion while catching his breath, "Let's...let's go meet with the others."


At least the gate had been pried open.


---


PRATCHET

Spoiler

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Spoiler

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The city was empty.


Ceril had never been to Pratchet himself but he could tell the streets were once bustling and lively when the sun still shone on this forsaken land. Now, only silence ruled the streets -- no man, no Mockery. The infrastructure was mostly intact but windows were shattered, trade carts were overturned and only the murmured curses of some auxiliary soldiers drifted in the air. Whatever happened to Pratchet, the citizens had tried to flee.


Still, this was their home for now. Their salvation.


"Get that guard house open," Ceril instructed in a low voice. "Raise the drawbridge and we'll start camp there. We'll be scavenging the city for the next few days."


With the order given, the Prince trotted over to Aleida's horse being tended by a very pale-faced Paisley. Aleida herself was unconscious, wounded but bandaged. It sent pangs of guilt into his heart seeing her hurt while under his command again. Swallowing the lump that had found residence in his throat, he dismounted and handed the reins to Paisley, giving her a reassuring nod. Careful not to press on her fresh wounds, he eased Aleida off Rowan and carried her in his arms towards the guard house.


"Come on you oaf," Ceril's voice was a hushed whisper. "You better be all right."


(@Veirrianna Valentine @Poe)

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

They had never been very careful.


The memory was faded, almost dimmed with the fog but they were only children, the two of them walking slowly, defeated, back towards the Gregory residence. She couldn’t have been any older than seven, Ceril only a few years her senior, as they walked with their heads down towards the home in the light mist. Aleida had her right hand clutched in her left, blood staining her clothes from where she had nervously wiped the wound when it had first occurred, but when it did not stop — the two retreated home where they were sure to get a scolding. Be careful, her mother warned them every morning and every afternoon when they returned they had followed that command save for that day. And neither of them spoke a word as they made their way through the door to the screams of her mother.


“Aleida Rose Gregory!” she screeched, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, her younger eyes full of equal parts rage and fear. “And you,” she looked to Ceril, “both of you sit down right now. I told you both to be careful! I told you—“


“What is the cause for all this yelling?” Aleida’s father’s voice echoed through the house as his heavy footsteps followed into the kitchen where they were situated. His kind but stern eyes found Aleida’s hand and then Ceril’s expression before placing a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Let me handle this, Fira,” he muttered against her skin before nudging her off in the opposite direction. Without a word, he gathered some bandages, water and a rag and beckoned for them both to take a seat on the table’s bench as he pulled up a stool for himself.


“Tell me what happened,” he said calmly, his eyes never leaving Aleida’s hand as he dabbed at the wound. It wasn’t too deep to worry, but Ceril had taken the initiative to explain how they had been running out in the morning mist, chasing after one another as they ran deeper and deeper into the woods trying to find an adventure. Aleida had tripped even though they both knew the hillside was rough terrain and it tore her hand open on impact. Thomas did not make a sound, simply listened attentively as he tended to his daughter’s wound. Though his fingers were calloused from years of fighting, they were gentle against her small hands. “Mother is just over—“ Aleida started, her eyes rolling at her mother’s reaction.


“Your mother was just scared, Al,” Thomas explained. His hand reaching for the bandages so he could carefully wrap her hand. “When you two are away from this house, we cannot protect you, do you both understand that? When you go out into the woods, when you are searching for that adventure, all we can hope is that you will protect one another and make it home safe and you came home covered in blood, darling.”


“I didn’t try to get hurt, we were just —“


“Al,” Thomas held both of her hands in his, his own body leaned forward so his elbows could rest on his knees. “I am not upset with you. I am only upset that you are both hanging your heads in shame. Risk does not come without the occasional failure, but you must learn to take the wins and losses. Both of you. Ceril, you wish to be a great tactician and commander. Do you think change happens without risk? Without a spark of creation? And you will fall, my darling, and fall hard. You went into this together and came out together, that is a success in and of itself. Do not take that lightly. No adventure is ever worth risking that which you hold most dear.”


“Now, come. Both of you,” he kissed her fingertips before clapping both of his hands on his knees, “Your mother is about to start dinner and to keep a woman waiting is the most deadly of risks.”


When Aleida finally stirred, her body felt like all of of her muscles had shut down and it was near impossible to open her eyes. Her head throbbed and a dizzying feeling overtook her but she was alive. With the memories she had from just before she’d hit the ground, she was genuinely surprised to feel her heart beat and the familiar flow of air through her lungs. Nothing was quite broken as far as she could tell, but then again she was merely lying down. It was a miracle, to be sure. With a gentle expulsion of air, Aleida willed herself to open her eyes though she could not make out where she was or what time it was.


Beside her, seated against the wall with his head lulled back, was Ceril and she could not help the slight smirk that touched her lips. “You’ve grown rather fond of speaking about God lately, I do hope you’re not praying,” Aleida spoke, her amused tone thick with exhaustion.


(@Coin)

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arabella Dane

Admittedly, she had only half listened as Kepheus spoke. He was a sour man, with an unpleasant way of speaking, but he was also, to some degree, her superior and so she met his instructions with a nod, keeping one hand on Aleida, one on the reins. There seemed to be a habit of those in any position of power to assume servants were unintelligent, but it wouldn't do to correct him. After everything that had transpired, she felt exhaustion creeping in.


Marnie appeared at her side after several minutes and offered to help, and she was grateful for the girl's appearance, but one look at her brought a frown to Arabella's expression. What had she seen in the belly of that terrible thing? Or rather, who? She wanted to ask, but there wasn't time, for soon enough they were moving on towards Pratchet and it took all of Bella's remaining concentration to keep Aleida on Rowan's back.


It was still a decent walk, and one made all the more precarious by the possibility that they might, at any point, be set upon. By the afternoon, they had reached the city, however, and inside the gated walls, Arabella was only too glad to shed the responsibility of Aleida and horse to Paisley in favor of setting up the camp. The work was simple and mindless, but she was glad for the distraction, and when she had finished, she made her way to where the injured had gathered, to lend a hand. When she had helped where she was able and there was nothing left do, she made her way find Marnie.


The young squire was sitting on what used to be part of a garden wall, eyes glazed and staring into a cook fire far off. When they'd passed by the portcullis with its massive heap of rotting flesh, she'd nearly thrown up again. Just her luck, there was nothing left in her to throw up. She'd had half a mind to dig through and find her brother, to drag his body out and give him a good, proper burial, but the stench and the eyes that had watched her hollowly from that gruesome heap made her turn away. Guilt pooled like rancid fat in her stomach, thinking of her parents' wan face. God, she'd have to tell them. How could she?


Marnie looked up, her hair in her face in ragged strands. She nodded a bit and looked back at the campfire. " 'lo, Bells."


"Hello, Marnie." Sinking down beside her, she folded her hands in her lap. Uncertainty swelled for a moment, before she reached out, resting her palm on the girl's shoulder. The question was balanced on the tip of her tongue, and she weighed just how to say it, before it fell out, altogether in a great, uncouth clump, "...That thing... those people inside of it. You... did you... know someone?"


Marnie didn't resist the hand on her shoulder, though she didn't seem to welcome it either. The question wormed through the shell of numbness that had cropped up around her as she'd put up Edina's tent and things. The armor was gone, and what was left was a raw, bleeding wound. Marnie nodded wordlessly before adding, "I... had three brothers, 'n... 'n I... found one."


The acknowledgement hurt almost as much as the initial grief, but there was some relief in finally admitting it.


"Oh, Marnie. I... I'm so sorry." It wouldn't help. She knew. She'd heard it too many times herself, when her father was killed. There was nothing, no comfort, no closure that would ever measure up, "This place. It... it's just awful. Every inch of it."


Marnie sniffled, suddenly giggling a little. She slapped a gloved hand over her mouth, holding her stomach with her other arm. Finally, she spoke.


"Yea, every inch is rotten, jis... rotten. 'n he's gone made it more rotten than it were. It's ... almost funny. I got so mad, seein' him in there, y'know? Got mad, that 'e went off 'n got hisself killed. He were cocky, 'at bantam rooster. Bragged all the time. I'll be first outta the mist, what's so bad 'bout a bit a fog anyhow? Ain't nothin' gunna scare me."


"I wonder if maybe we're all not a little bit cocky. I know I never imagined...this. And I keep thinking we're only what... three days in? What else is out there? What else are we going to come up again? How many more are we going to lose?" Her mind shifted to Amelia, to Farrah, and she shivered, "...I guess the only solace I have is there's no one on the outside to leave behind."


"Solace that is. And solace it ain't," Marnie said with a shuddering breath. "A selfish part of me almost hopes I do die 'fore I get outta here. Won't have to face Mum 'n Da, tell 'em what... what happened. Makes me glad, I got people t' mourn me. And pity y' ain't got someone to mourn you."


Marnie tapped a hand against the wall and added, "But y' won't have to worry 'bout that. No one's gonna have to mourn you. Also selfish git that I am, I don't fancy dyin', and I'd bet you don't fancy dyin' neither."


"It's certainly not a high priority, no." She looked over to Marnie and smiled warmly, "But I don't think you're selfish. Not at all. And I also imagine they'll be glad enough to have you back, that telling them won't be as difficult as you think. You're a gem, Marnie... I trust they know that."


For some reason, hearing the words 'you're a gem' hit Marnie hard. The hours of training... the hours sitting, embroidering, learning to hold conversation... getting bonerash and suddenly, almost overnight, watching herself become worthless... Her parents were kind people, good people, but they weren't taken by affection. No, her family gave love in jabs and bites, and a thick skin was a prerequisite of the Belhund family.


To hear someone say that her parents, who she knew loved her and had been horribly disappointed in her and hoped for her against hope, knew she must be something worthwhile...


She pressed her lips together hard and patted Bella's hand. " If'n there were someone out there fer you, they'd tell you the same thing. After this...you always got a home with House Belhund, no matter we're a house or a hovel when all's this is done. "


"Thank you." Bella whispered, and she could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes, "Really. You... you can't know what that means to me. I should go and see if there's somewhere I can be of use. You're sure you're alright?"


Marnie gave a wan smile. "Nah. I'm not alright. But I will be. Gimme some time, a couple'a bottles a cheap wine, 'n I'll be right as rain. You go on. Take care of yerself."


"Tell you what, Marnie," She continued, returning the smile, "You find that wine, and I'll gladly keep you company. Take care."


And with a nod she rose, heading off in the direction she'd come.

Collab with @Doctor Jax

 

[Chordling]

.

 

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL


Tendrils of sleep were pulling away at his mind, making his eyelids heavy. Ceril didn't know how long he had been propped up against the wall, waiting for Aleida to wake up but his body did not care anymore. The day had been long and stressful, with the blows on their morale getting heavier with each passing day in the Veil. Not only had they lost another soldier, but their food cart was as good as lost out in the fog. If Pratchet's food stores had perished, the entourage would not only be battling the Mockery, but they would be battling vicious attrition as well. All of this, all of their lives rested on his shoulders and right now, he just needed a break.


Just as he could feel the edge of his consciousness floating away into oblivion, a weak but familiar voice reached his ears. Ceril jolted awake and startled himself when his helmet rolled off of his lap and clanged onto the floor. The Prince made a desperate attempt to grab at the helmet to stop it from rolling away but must have looking like a flailing fool recovering from almost falling asleep. Luckily, only Aleida was there to see his blunder as the rest were fortifying the guard house or laying claim to the many empty beds in the barracks.


"Not a damn word," Ceril muttered, finally getting a hold of his stray headgear and brushing the dirt from the plumage.


The Prince stretched out his sore limbs and scooted over to Aleida's side, pouring her a cup of wine, "I'm uh..-- I'm glad you're awake, though."


He steadied the cup and helped Aleida sit up, allowing her to grip the wine and allowing his fingers to support hers, "We did it, we made it to Pratchet. We...lost Farrah, though. The food cart was crushed but Miss Belhund is still walking and fighting. I think she lost a brother to the Kinslayer, Edina should be seeing to her about that."


Ceril stood and tucked his helmet under his arm, making sure the rest of his armor was still in place, "You rest up, I'll have Ko check on you while I make sure we have the gate secured and a meal for tonight. Tell her to find me if you need anything at all. We're gonna make it."


---


Immediately after leaving the privacy of Aleida's room, the Prince went straight back to work, making sure everyone was pulling their weight. So, when he was approached by the auxiliary Gwendalin, he was caught off guard when she asked him for more orders.


"Miss Northwode, your majesty is King Julius the Second of the Ambryn throne. Majesty comes from the Ancient's word majestas meaning the 'greatness of God' and I am no greatness from God. However, I am your liege," Ceril smirked at the soldier. "However, my needs are the same as the rest of the entourage and we need food. I commend Edina's squire for hoarding as much salvage from the food cart as possible but it simply will not last. This is why I want a small group to move to the trade district in search of provisions for the night. Perhaps you will join them?"


(@Veirrianna Valentine, @Musician)

 

[Chordling]

.

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

The memory was fresh in her mind, images of Ceril as a boy alongside her father flashed as she fought to keep consciousness. His blunder was so entirely like him that she could not help the knowing smirk that touched her lips. While she did not doubt he would be a fine King someday, great even (though she would never admit it out loud least of all to him), there was a part of her that was thankful for the small slivers of awkward that were left residing in his bones. Not nearly as awkward as the lanky excuse for a young teenage boy he once was, but just a few glimmers of that same clumsy boyhood.


“I’m glad I’m awake too,” she added, trying to lighten the mood as much as possible though it was clear she was still in some pain. “Dying would be most inconvenient right now.” Her body was littered in new bruises, at least one of her ribs bruised as well, and even small lacerations torn through her clothing where she’d scraped over small rocks. They’d long since stopped bleeding but her riding clothes seemed much like everyone else’s — dirtied and bloodied. Her words did not seem to stop him, though, from easing her up and helping bring a cup of wine to her lips. His fingers warm against hers.


So they had made it to Pratchet, which was good news but the news of Marnie’s brother and Farrah weighed heavily on her heart and by the way Ceril rambled off his recollection of the last few hours, Aleida knew it weighed heavily on him, too. Every part of her wanted to offer him the same words of encouragement that her father had given them so many times, but she was by no means the person he was. She was rough around the edges with a quick tongue and she feared that her words of encouragement might be misconstrued — so she simply nodded and listened to his words of reassurance as though she needed them.


But the moment he was gone, Aleida simply looked down at her hands half shaking around the cup he’d given her and then downed the rest of its contents to numb the pain radiating through her body. The last thing Ceril needed right now, that any of them needed now, was to doubt their ability to keep people alive and keep moving forward. So with a few half-hearted tries, she finally mustered the strength to stumble up onto her feet and against the wall, her body braced for a moment before making her way slowly forward in the direction Ceril had just left.


Her eyes immediately fell on him with his back towards her, speaking with Gwendalin with a bit of a jest to his voice. Majesty comes from the Ancient's word majestas meaning the 'greatness of God' and I am no greatness from God. However, I am your liege. Aleida could not move well but her eyes were perfectly fine to roll back in embarrassment at his poor excuse for wit. Though, there was something within her that seemed to pang at the idea of him serving such terrible verbiage to another. When Gwendalin was far from ear shot, Aleida leaned her weight against the doorway and looked out at him.


“Idiot,” she mused, “Comes from the ancient word, idiota, meaning ignorant person. And while I am no ignorant person, but I am afraid I cannot say the same for you, my leige.”


Taking a few steps forward, Aleida was slowly regaining her usual range of motion though her face remained unmoved by the pain aching in her joints and head. "You mean to tell me you killed that thing?" she prodded, almost foreseeing his response and perhaps giving him something to focus on other than their failures. "I don't believe you. Show me."


(@Coin)

 

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL


Ceril couldn't say that he was particularly surprised when he heard Aleida's mocking tone not minutes after leaving her alone to rest. There was no way she would accept her battered state and allow those around her to work while she lounged about. Still, he was concerned that her injuries could worsen if she strained herself, but the Prince was in no position to scold her and order her back to resting if she had already declared herself well enough to move about unassisted. Instead, he eyed her head to toe to display his skepticism for her condition, but decided not to comment on her staggered limp.


"I'm starting to think that maybe I should have locked the door on my way out," Ceril raised an eyebrow. "But since you're up, we might as well do something productive."


The rotting corpses of the Kinslayer and its captives had been shrugged on to the entourage's side of Pratchet's walls in their haste to raise the drawbridge. With so many bodies, they'd be shoveling the bones and flesh into the moat well into the night and time was not a luxury they could afford to spare. However, corpses were still corpses and a solution would have to be met in the coming days to avoid the virulence of rot. This was very evident for Ceril and Aleida were able to smell the remains before they even came in sight.


"I want to reiterate that I did not kill the Kinslayer, the portcullis did," Ceril scrunched his face at the sharp sight and smell of death.


At the gate, the scene was still as grisly as they had left it. Ribbons of flesh clung to the gate while blood and other blackened fluids splattered the polished stone walls. An indiscernible number of bodies lay clumped together in a repugnant hill of decay.


The Prince sighed as he knelt a respectable distance from the gore, inspecting a severed forearm that clutched a falcon and shield family crest on a pendant in its death grip, "Farrah's in there somewhere. From the looks of it, some of the King's men as well -- perhaps General Albencross, judging by the colors and standard. I'm not certain we could build a pyre large enough for these poor bastards."


It was different knowing that one of his soldiers, whom the Prince had seen alive and well earlier in the morning, was bundled along with the long-dead. Yet again had one of his plans yielded fatal for some, just how many more would perish in his stead? Ceril stepped on the forearm with a heavy boot and wrenched the pendant from its vice and flicked the blood from it. He wrapped it in hide and tucked it away in his riding belt for later. He stood once more and turned to face Aleida, a small frown on his features, as if to find answers for questions unasked.


(@Poe)

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

Aleida had shot him a bit of an unamused look, but he seemed to fold at the idea of her accompanying him towards the remains of the beast. They had been together long enough know for Aleida to realize that the more bodies that piled up, the heavier Ceril’s heart would be, and so she bit back the pain of her injuries and kept on alongside him until they came upon the decrepit remains of the Kinslayer. It hardly resembled a beast at all having, instead, collapsed in on itself until it was nothing but a pit of mutilated corpses and blood. The smell was putrid and Aleida had to stop for a moment as a couple of gagging coughs wracked through her body. Having been unconscious for quite a bit of the true action, it was the first time the stench was hitting her senses and she needed a moment to adjust.


“Well, the portcullis killing the Kinslayer is a bit more believable, I suppose,” Aleida pulled herself from the initial sensory overload and began to follow Ceril towards the gore. “I assume your plan, judging by the state of the gate, was to lure it towards the gate and use the impact to incapacitate the beast? Clever, albeit a bit reckless. It seems I’m unconscious for a short while and you decide it dire enough to risk your life. I will be sure to remember that in the future.”


Internally, the idea of Ceril risking his life so recklessly to protect her was a maddening one. There was an entire entourage that depended upon his guidance and as much as it was their job to see everyone through this, it was also his job to return home to the capital. Injured and scarred, sure, but he would return alive even if it took every last ounce of strength within Aleida. Even if she had to tie him to Rowan and drag him back.


“By the looks of it, the General and some of these men have been dead quite a long while. I wonder if they were taken closer to the edge of the Veil or if they, too, made it to Pratchet before meeting their demise,” Aleida mused as she moved through the remains, though a good distance from the pool in which they resided. “General Albencross was a great man, surely it does not change the quality of his character simply because some were lost in his stead. After all, riding into a place such as the Veil is blinding in and of itself. Military tactic does not work with these creatures and it is difficult to trust one’s own instincts when facing an unknown foe. Survival is the desired outcome, but there will be casualties.”


“We would be foolish to believe otherwise,” she shrugged, hoping he found some solace in her words as she glanced through the severed and strewn bones until something caught her eye. It was a larger mass of flesh, stained red and coated in the black substance but there was a piece of fabric, or so it seemed, frayed and seemingly digested a bit by the ooze. Crouching down with every bit of her strength, Aleida reached pulled one of her riding gloves onto her hand and leaned forward to pluck the small piece of fabric that was left from a much larger article.


“Ceril,” she said his name so honestly and there was not a single tinge of her usual wit. Examining it, Aleida recognized the patterned fabric.


A saddle pad that her mother had made for him. Her father. Alwyn, his white stallion, was half decomposed before her — but hardly as mangled as the piles of bones they had found earlier in the pile of King’s men. Her eyes scanned frantically across the immediate area but there was no marking of her father’s armor or his sword — any sign of him that wouldn’t have been destroyed after a few days of being within the Kinslayer.


“It’s Alwyn,” Aleida said evenly though her heart was racing. “His corpse is fresh, a few days at most…”


Aleida could not move from her crouched position on the ground and reached up for Ceril’s assistance, her eyes wide. “You don’t think…”


But she could not seem to find the strength to finish the thought.


(@Coin)

 

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL


"The portcullis was nearly closed, enough for someone to crawl through," Ceril explained. "On the other hand, the drawbridge had been fully lowered. That means whoever was here last had tried to close off the city to stop something from coming in but never got to finish. If I were to guess, General Albencross and his men were taken outside of the city, for I find it difficult to believe that that thing managed to crawl under the gap with the general and his men in its belly. I will be sure to include them in tonight's loss repor--"


“It’s Alwyn,” Aleida interrupted the Prince's rambling.


"What?"


The Prince's throat went dry. Alwyn. He knew no other Alwyn other than Sir Thomas Gregory's Alwyn, a sturdy white stallion that the knight went to great measures to care for. Sure as the passing days, when Ceril followed Aleida's gaze he saw the broken steed in the litter of bodies. Its mane, once well kept and the envy of other riders, was now stained in sickly dried blood. Ceril knelt as well, searching for what he did not want to find among the corpses -- surely if anyone were to survive the Veil, it would be Aleida's father. A man of so much skill and natural talent couldn't possibly fall to the treacherous nature of the Veil so easily.


After carefully adjusting the weight away from Alwyn, the Prince concluded that no Mockery had consumed the body of the horse. The killing blow must have been dealt by the Kinslayer, a similar fashion to how it slew Farrah judging by the immense blunt force trauma and crushed bones. The Prince found it hard to push the images away but found it difficult as he sifted through the corpses for more clues.


"Look, the saddle bags are mostly empty and I can't find his bow and pack anywhere," Ceril finally pointed out, referring to the knight's belongings. "That means that when Alwyn died, he must have been setting up camp or something. Whatever happened, he either wasn't on his horse when he encountered the Kinslayer or managed to escape."


The Prince hoped his words would comfort Aleida but as he said them, he could feel hope falter out from under him, "Listen, he's still out there. He has to be close too, judging by how fresh Alwyn's body still is. In fact, when we find him, I'm certain he'll have some insight on just what's happening."


Ceril hoped his smile appeared genuine through his sunken heart and the discomfort that had made its way back to his throat.


(@Poe)

 

[Space Cowboy Ein]

Lady Edina Maplecroft


Death. The stench of it made Edina's nose curl as she led the effort to separate the bodies that the kinslayer had collected during its reign of terror. If she hadn't willed herself hard enough she would have vomited alongside the handful of volunteers that had agreed to help give the victims of the beast a proper sendoff. She had elected to work without her armor against the protests of some of the auxiliaries out of fear of a mockery attack, but the way she saw it, armor was irrelevant, and she hated sweating in chain mail and metal. She also wanted a closer look at the beast itself before the corpse was inevitably burned and getting it clear of the victims would give her more access to the more sensitive parts of it. Maybe, even, she could find the little bulbous bastard that controlled the mockery. But for now, there was still sorting to do.


There, situated among the last two to be buried was the corpse of a young man in cheap iron armor with a large M on it, a ring on his finger and a face eerily similar to that of her own squire. She thought that maybe Marnia was seeing things, that she was too, but now...up close and in the flesh..it had to be. "Mergan.." She whispered in an exhale before looking over to the last of the volunteers, a familiar face was among them. "Alex. I need your help with this one." She'd wait for him to grow closer before speaking again. "This one, is one of Marnia's siblings. Mergan. I want to move him a bit further down the line, give her some privacy when the time comes. So...if you wouldn't mind taking the shoulders." She said with a grimace before dipping low to grab the man by the knees.


Meters away across the road, Alexander toiled away through the soft dirt and clay as a means for a proper grave. The warehouse westward luckily had a shovel laying just outside propped against the exterior as if it had been placed there temporarily with the intent of its owner returning at some point. Alexander stripped himself from his heavy armor in preparation for the task he volunteered to do, and returned to the East Gate, shovel in hand, to bury anyone who could be. He was only just on the first, the rectangular section now around a foot deep in his efforts. Each time the spade pierced the dirt he wondered if the dead in the Veil could only rest in peace by fire. It wasn't traditional, and it wasn't what he desired to do for any of the remaining bodies. And so he set to the task without asking for clarification, sweat beading on his brow and mind focused between the debate and of the loss.


He heard Edina call his name, and for a moment he didn't know if he could bring himself away from digging. It was the first time he felt like he was actually doing something productive in the damnable fog. Eventually, he speared the shovel into the grass next to the shallow and unfinished grave and walked over to the knight with a solemn and subtle frown. He didn't have to speak before she pointed down towards one of the bodies within the festering mess that was once contained within the kinslayer's ribcage. The man looked similar to Marnia. There was no mistaking it, and the sight only served to wrench his heart in sorrow for the kind squire.


"Where is Marnia?" he asked as he stooped down to the body. Rigor mortis had already set his joints stiffly, his flesh cold as Alexander slipped his arms under the body's and lifted him up.


"Here," Marnia said quietly, her face almost neutral. The usually wide smile on her face had fled for brighter climes, and in the squire's place seemed to stand a sunken, smaller woman wearing only rough-spun pants and a cheap tunic. She had finally summoned the courage to come and help dig the graves for the poor souls lost to the Veil, and now that she was here... She had hoped to give a pair of middle fingers to the Veil by giving them their last, very human rites, but it seemed like the task was almost impossible, with so many dead. She'd seen Edina and Alex farther away, and she'd gravitated towards them out of habit.


She looked past Alex at the body lying at his feet. She swallowed, the tears building in her throat. She put a hand to her mouth, and she took a deep, deep breath. "So... so 'at's really 'im, innit?"


Edina's answer was cut short by the squire herself. The knight had to admit that she disliked seeing such a sad face on Marnia that wasn't her own doing. She'd likely never admit to being so protective of the young woman at times, but it was unavoidable. And unfortunately, there wasn't going to be much that she could do to protect Marnia from what she was feeling now. All she could do was stem it to the best of her abilities, and help with the coping process to come. Edina already had experience burying those close to you, and it was likely that this was the last one Marnie would see in their time here.


She nodded solemnly in response to the squire's question. "I'm afraid so..." She said before motioning to one of the idling auxiliaries who had just finished a grave to fetch them spades. He face had softened into a small bit of worry as she looked over the form of her squire. She was such a different person. "Marnia...you don't have to do this if you don't want to."

 

[Effervescent]

Alexander Vallane

A collaboration with @Doctor Jax and @Space Cowboy Ein​

Marnie rubbed her face and shook her head, hair swinging from side to side. Her hair had fallen out of the usual style she'd put it up in, evident of her exhaustion. She vehemently said, "No. No, I want to do it. He... he don't deserve to just be thrown in a hole, he... he needs... he woulda wanted me to do it. He deserves to be... be sent off good."


She looked behind her at the auxiliaries with their shovels, and she motioned for a shovel. One of them came over and handed her a spade, and she hefted it. She looked between Alex and Edina, and she nodded.


"Ah... we should start. Graves don't dig themselves, as much as we'd want," she sighed.


Edina nodded and sighed. "Right then.." It was her choice after all, and maybe the squire would come out of the situation stronger for it. She grabbed one of the shovels from the auxiliary and stuck it into the soft dirt beside the young man. As she dug out the first bit of dirt to the side she couldn't help but flashback to the time of her father's burial. She had elected to take part in the digging and burying, it was family tradition after all. Your parents saw you into this world, and it was your duty as the child to see them off. Still, the honor of doing so never took away from your emotions. For now, she would do her best to put the memories behind and just focus on the monotonous process of digging one's grave.


Alexander kept quiet out of respect. He did not know Marnia as well as Edina, and while he could sympathize with her situation, he couldn't empathize to this degree. The last family burial he attended he was only a child. His grandmother died of sickness, and he was far too young to fully understand death much less grieve for family he hardly knew. Imagining his own brother's death did not even elicit sadness to compare.


Regardless, the knight returned to digging the graves and followed Marnia's lead. Her expression of grief was not an overly outward display which caused him some concern. His eyes moved from the squire to her knight in the thought as his shovel dug through the dirt and carried it to the pile. Edina was well versed in the mannerisms Marnia displayed, and he hoped the woman would find a way to confront the closed facade of her squire.


She tried hard not to look at the body. There was something uncanny to it, as if it were a doll that had Mergan's face, or that it would suddenly sit up and shout abuse at her for the crappy job she was doing of digging that grave. He was the kind that wanted to poke, and jab, and tease, and insult the everloving daylight out of somebody. She knew she shouldn't think about it, that he wasn't ever going to tease her or pull her hair, make jokes about her embroidery or food, or come home with some new bawdy song from the bar, but it didn't seem like it had registered yet.


So she kept digging, and Sir Vallane kept digging, and Edina kept digging. The further they dug, the more memories Marnie unearthed, and suddenly she found herself ankle deep in dirt with tears pouring out her nose and eyes. She sniffed and dug, sniffed and dug until she was nearly knee deep.


"How deep're we diggin'?" Marnie asked, trying to keep the tremolo out of her voice.


The collective digging had soon enough taken a soft and slow rhythmic tune of metal scooping away dirt. Edina didn't spare a glance to either Alex or Marnie, only on the dirt below as she blocked out the rest of the world. She didn't want to be shaken from her duty, but the onset of sniffling from her squire made it tough to concentrate. Finally, her inquiry broke the knight's trance and she stuck the shovel into the dirt mid-stroke and hunched over slightly. She took a moment to catch her breath and wiped a few stray strands of hair back. Her eyes scanned the square plot of earth they had dug up and then back to the corpse, judging the sizes. "This should be fine.." She answered before standing up straight to stretch.


She tossed her shovel back outside and stepped back up towards Mergan. She motioned for Alex to do the same and before long the young man was laying in the grave. Edina picked up her shovel again and stuck it into the small pile of dirt that had collected beside the grave. Her eyes were set on the young squire and she shifted uncomfortably in place. "Did you...want to say anything?"

 

[Chordling]

.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Marnie & Alexander & Edina

​

Marnie watched them put the body in the grave, and she forced herself to look. His face was slightly slack, his mouth a bit open, and the wound that had probably killed him was evident, a huge rent in the side of his armor. Trying her hardest not to sob, she shook her head, but then she knelt by the open grave and gently removed the ring from her brother's finger. She squeezed his hand, holding it.


"Rest, Mergan, you idiot," she said to him hoarsely. She squeezed his hand, unnerved by its coldness or its resemblance to clay. He'd always had warm, lively hands. They'd been the ones that had stroked her hair when she'd had a nightmare, or was threading up a lute to play some bawdy song that'd make their mother shout and throw household objects at him. These hands were meant to squeeze back, but they didn't. For a few moments, she found that she couldn't let go,didn't wantto let go, but finally she let the hand fall back into the grave. She picked up her spade, and she shoveled a small bit of dirt on the tip of it. She tried to think of the words her father had said when he'd buried his own grandfather, Broddick. She'd been so small when it happened. What had he said?


"Mergan... son of Brandor Belhund, son of Lorainna Newrill Belhund, and brother of Marnia, Brunsvar, and Baldwin Belhund, I commend your body to... this earth and I c-commend your spirit to..."


Who knew she would have to bury her own brother? How many more would she bury in their family's stead?


"To God." She let the single shovelful slide into the grave. Even that was almost too much. It was a declaration stronger than her words. She looked to Alex for help.


Alexander solemnly nodded at Mernia's tribute to her brother. He dug his shovel into the loose pile of dirt once the squire began to place the first clump of dirt upon the still body. Silence was all he could think of doing as he shoveled dirt on top of Mergan. Eventually the body was covered by their efforts. And then the dirt rose to meet the surface. It was long work, and while there were still other unnamed bodies to put to rest, he didn't find it proper to keep Marnia from her grieving with laborious tasks around the dead. As the pile of dirt lessened, he sifted the rest upon Mergan's grave and looked to the squire thoughtfully.


"How would you like to mark his grave, Marnia?" he asked.


Marnie thought on the question, her spade left stuck in the loose pile of dirt leftover. After the first few shovelfuls of dirt, it had began to get... well, not quiteeasier,but it was as if the degree of shock was abating away. The pain in her side from her broken ribs also helped take her mind of it. She took a deep breath as she thought about what she wanted to mark the grave with. What did they possible have that could serve as a good grave-marker? She couldn't leave the dagger she'd been given -- it was too useful. She also couldn't leave his grave unmarked either.


"Yeah, I... if I can, I'll come back, and we'll take him home to be buried proper," Marnie sighed as she wiped her nose. She looked between the two knights and said, "Thank you... thank you, really. I couldn't have done this on... on my own."


Edina stuck the end of her spade into the ground and let out a long sigh. The work had been done, Mergan had been buried and with any luck nothing would come and dig him out. Who knew what else the veil might have in store for them after the kind layer encounter. She looked to Marnia and then Alex, it was hard to read how he was handling the situation, he seemed uncomfortable. Marnia on the other hand was still attempting to keep it together, and the knight could commend the young woman on keeping strong.


She nodded at the thanks and shifted away from the shovel. "I'd do it for anyone. I know the hardship that comes with having to bury a loved one. Both her tone and gave were softened and Edina could hardly keep up that cold exterior of hers, not with the two people that were arguably the closest to her. Now all that was left was something to mark the grave with. Closer to the wall of Pratchet sat a collection of rocks, smooth, numerous and decently sized to be noticeable. "You can use those rocks, maybe for initials for easy identification."


Marnie nodded at the suggestion. That seemed a decent enough idea, and it would make finding him that much easier. It took her something like fifteen or twenty minutes to create a rather large "M" over the freshly dug earth, pushing the stones deep into the loam to make sure they had a good hold. She stood back and surveyed her work, long hair blowing in the wind as she considered the grave she'd made. She felt hollowed out, as if all her emotions had been poured into this grave to lie with her brother.


"It's funny," Marnie muttered as she stared at it. "We do all this work for a few dead bodies that used t'belong t'people. 'Cept them people aren't there anymore t'care. Why do we bury 'em at all?" She expected no answer, of course. She picked up her spade and looked between her teacher and Sir Vallane.


"I 'spose we got others who need buryin'," Marnie quickly finished, and she hefted her spade, walking with long-legged stride away from the freshly dug grave. Better to keep occupied. Better to be doing something. She would think about him when the time came, but now was not that time. Now, they just had bodies that needed put in the earth, to be shown that they were human enough to matter.


@Effervescent @Space Cowboy Ein

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

Aleida felt the fear grip at her windpipe and for a moment it was as though her entire body shut down. Ceril’s words would have soothed her, had she not been staring into a pile of corpses — bodies who had all been “great men,” men of skill and valor. The kinds of men who returned triumphantly home after battles to their loved ones, kiss their wives and held their daughters, their stories so inspiring that their sons would rise up after them to take the mantel. Her father, too, embodied that kind of man. Strong and valiant with a good heart.


All this time she spent convincing herself that he was dead, the silent anger she harbored towards her mother for her false claims of oh, he’ll return soon, and here she was facing the reality of it and neither answer eased the rustling of anxiety in her veins. If he were alive, she was in no shape to find him and she was certain any attempt to would be thwarted by Ceril as he entertained her gusto, but leaving the safety of camp would be suicide. If he were dead…well, the very thought manifested as a lump in her throat and made it harder to breathe. If he were dead, they would have been too late. She would have been too late.


Whatever way the wind blew, she was consumed in uncertainty either way.


“I’m sure you’re right,” Aleida managed, her voice even though a bit soft. No part of her was sure, but she had to offer Ceril something. He, too, was close with her father and even looked up to him as such. Thomas had taught them both everything and yet, staring his mortality down, Aleida realized it was hardly enough. How was she supposed to keep moving forward when he was out there? How was she supposed to find the strength to carry herself when all she wanted to do was collapse? And if she lost him, how was she…oh god, how was she supposed to tell mother?


How was she to ride through the Veil without searching the fog for his face, knowing the impossibility of it all, but unable to resist?


Without a second thought, Aleida’s hand came up to grab his, both to pull her tired bones from the ground and to ease the uncertainty poisoning her thoughts. Her heart ached in a way that no remedy could ease and she refused to move for a moment, her hand still in his as she took a deep breath and soldiered on in the same manner she knew her father would have. “And I’m sure when we do, he will have a few choice words about us entering the Veil in the first place and then proclaim it a “magnificent adventure” or one of those stupid manners in which he always described his traveling,” she shrugged as she pulled away, the memory piercing her heart but her body was already so battered that the emotional injury did not matter much.


“We should probably head back and—“ Letting go of Ceril’s hand seemed to be a mistake because the moment she took a step back towards their settlement for the evening, it seemed her tired knees gave out a bit underneath her. She caught herself on his arms, blinking the cobwebs away from the corners of her tired mind. “Sorry, I — I think I’ll take you up on that offer to rest if it still stands.”


(@Coin)

 

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL


"Easy now, crazy fool," Ceril caught Aleida and wrapped an arm under her arm and around her back to offer her decent support while walking. "Your dad'll gut me if he sees how scratched up I let you get. I haven't gotten this far into the Veil just to end up with a bodkin between my eyes, so you had better not strain yourself the next couple of days."


Together, the pair hobbled back to the main encampment. Along the way, Ceril rallied together the rest of the entourage that were still working outside of the guard house. The setting sun would make the city a nightmare to navigate, especially in the fog -- so he did not want anyone wandering outside the perimeter guard patrol. A few campfires had been started in the main room where he and the rest gathered for a meeting.


With his free hand, he dragged a rickety wooden chair from the corner of the room and turned it around for Aleida to sit while he addressed the people. Despite the cold, still air of the Veil on the outside, the many torches and small fires that warmed the room gave the interior a homely atmosphere. A roof over their heads, and thick stone walls around them on all sides allowed the weary to relax for possibly the first time in the Veil. However, reality made safety a fleeting hope in the heart of the Veil. They were without their food stores and only had what they could fit in their pockets and packs.


"Now then," Ceril raised his voice to gather everyone's attention. "It has been a long and trying day for all of us, we've lost another of our own and the Veil has taken our provision from us as if it wished to watch us starve to our demise. By the looks on your faces, I figure that's the last way you lot want to die. Therefore, tonight we will rest and tomorrow we'll scour the city for every last bit of bread, wine and blade. By my order, I hereby declare the city of Pratchet under Ambryn martial dominion -- what you find is yours until we leave this city."


The Prince rolled his neck and shifted the armor clasped to his sore muscles, "Eat what you can, pick out a warm bed and be ready by first light in the morning. Dismissed."


As the soldiers and servants returned to their routines, Ceril returned to Aleida's side with his arms crossed in front of his chest, "What'll it be, Allie-dear? Need help getting back to your room or do you want to be left out here for a while? Maybe someone managed to salvage a keg of ale back there."


(@Veirrianna Valentine @Poe)

 

[Doctor Jax]

Marnia & Kepheus

​

It irritated him, seeing the knights so close to each other. It was as if he was living in a bard's tale. An emotional soldier, hardly worthy of being called a knight, and a lancer who received her knighthood while still a teenager. What would come next, true love? An amusing notion.


On second thought, it was not amusing. It was rather terrifying.


But the squire! The squire was another person. He could sympathize with her, in a way. Her first time burying a brother, and judging by her reaction to Farrah's death, first time seeing someone die in a violent way. Marie Bilhound was amiable enough, and her attitude tugged at his memories from long ago, of when he had first entered the battlefield. How he wished he had been comforted by those close to him after the first massacre he fought in. Instead he received a slap on the back and a useless piece of painted string. The lord he fought under was too poor for badges, so they made do with string. String!


Kepheus disliked his old memories and by default, those who caused him to remember them, but an exception was made for the squire. He did not intend to hold grudges against everyone in the camp, and it would be best to save his animosity toward those who purposely provoked him. No, he would not resent the girl. In fact, he had in mind to give her a piece of advice. Moping around would not be tolerated in his camp.


"Miss Belhund," he said, gesturing vaguely at the girl. "A moment, if you will?"


The squire, meantime, had immediately gone to work putting other, less fortunate souls than herself into the loam, digging hard. She attacked the earth as if it had been the thing that had taken her brother from her and forced her to give him up to it. She was not the kind of person who froze when things went wrong -- no, she was the kind who had to do something with her grief, be productive, fully live while living mattered.


And this was how Kepheus found her, knee deep in mud with a heap of someone's flesh next to the grave. Her face was smeared with dirt and tears, her nose running and hair flying away in brown strands. The scars that etched down the left side of her face were dark with mud, and her eyes were red from crying. She pitched the spade straight into the earth so it stood before it, and she leaned against it wearily.


She was surprised the man was even speaking to her. He'd come off as a bit of a grump, more than a bit boozy, and perhaps lonesome. He was smart enough to stay alive, there was definitely that, so he couldn't be all bad.


"Yessir?" she asked, her accent thick with the countryside.


Kepheus paused for a moment, rethinking his actions. Perhaps he was making an unwise choice. He had no desire to become friendly with any of the entourage, or even hint at being chummy. The very word disgusted him. But he digressed from these thoughts, for it would be unusual to act as though he never said anything.


"Miss Belhund," he repeated again, a small touch of uncertainty in his voice. "I assume, by your face and by the whispers of the auxiliary, you have lost someone close to you. A brother or a sister, mayhap?" Marnie's face blanched at the mention of her brother, and her throat clogged with tears. She couldn't say anything to confirm or deny that someone close to her had died, but the look on her face was probably enough.


"As you know, you are a novice, while I am experienced, to say the least. I do not say this to insult you, but to inform you. I lost my family when I was young, a foolish choice I made while I still was a happy lad. Despite this, I have lost many brothers in glorious battle. Brothers of war and fortune, you know. For me, death is a distant relative, an ever-looming shadow that will one day strike us all."


His voice abruptly switched away from the gloomy tone, and betrayed a sliver of sincerity.


"If you need someone to talk to, be it now or in the future, know that I am here. No nobles or gossip, just a soldier to soldier conversation. I have endured many difficulties in life; yet, I still live." Then, as a side note he added, "I am not willing to watch this mission be sidetracked by star-crossed lovers."


The usually peppy squire was ashen and quiet, and she listened to Kepheus' (slightly harsh) tale of his journeys as a soldier, losing his family, and how death was but their shadow, following them as long as light remained. Marnie couldn't help but think of Farrah and the sudden squelch as--


She tore her thoughts away just as Kepheus became more sincere. She nodded and stated, "M'thanks, Elder. I'll keep't in mind."


She frowned at the last mention of starcrossed lovers, though. "Ain't no stars to cross out here, though. As far's I know, anyway."


Still, his speech had brought her feelings to the forefront, the uncertainty and sudden shock of both seeing a person die and knowing someone close to her was, indeed, dead.


"I do... I do got somethin' to say, though.... Did you feel..." Marnie swallowed hard, trying to pin down the feeling she'd experienced as she watched Farrah very suddenly meet a messy end. She'd been fighting it down, trying to forget it, but it kept cropping back up. She'd hardly had time to process it, what with the Kinslayer. "....feel relieved? The first time y'watched someone else die? I jis... I keep thinkin'... I keep thinkin' "God, it weren't me, thank heaven, least it weren't me"..."


So he was right. She had lost a brother. Kepheus had seen many agitated soldiers in battle, and the blubbering squire was nothing new, but it was a whole another thing to actually communicate with them. The tearful voice combined with her rural accent made understanding her words nigh impossible. He would have to endeavor to discern her words without asking her to repeat them, which was certainly a difficult task.


He turned to leave, considering his business done. The squire had said nothing else apart from her thanks and something indiscernible about. . . . . Stars? Well, if she wanted to talk with him, he would always be open. Kepheus had not yet taken a step to leave before Marnie began to speak again, a blubbering mess of words coming from her mouth.


"Different soldiers experience different things." Kepheus' voice had lost the goodwill it once held, and now he sounded like a teacher lecturing a student. "Some feel guilt, that they couldn't keep someone alive. Some take pleasure in inflicting pain, while others abhor killing another human. Like you, some experience relief. I myself feel . . "


The old soldiers face was troubled and unsettled. He finally spoke, his words hollow. "I myself," he repeated again, "feel nothing. Emptiness. I've seen things no human should have to witness."


There was a pause, a lull in their conversation, then Kepheus coughed.


"Well, I should probably get back to camp. The Prince may have task that need doing."


For a moment, Marnie bristled at the lecturing tone he commanded. Wasn't he supposed to be making her feel better? But then, as he continued and stumbled upon his words, she started to understand-- these were personal thoughts from an impersonal man. They were not easy to relay, especially to a stripling squire who had just spent the last hour burying her flesh and blood.


Marnie nodded. She could see that. She could understand how someone who'd seen so much death just... quenches the light, to save themselves from being blinded by so many lost human souls sucked into oblivion at the snap of a finger. "Aye. You're right. Might as well feel useful, seems."


@korigon

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

“If only. I could kill for a good tankard or two,” Aleida let out a short laugh. Ceril had given her the choice between going back to her room or raining among the entourage. As much as she wanted to rest for the evening, there was one or two things buzzing around in her mind independent of her father and she thought it best not to drown in the what ifs and maybes. First and foremost on that list, was the young Arabella who was sitting by herself among the warm fire’s glow. Aleida was only a few years her senior, but she saw something in the girl — a spark — that she seemed to keep hidden behind a mask because it was easier.


“Do try to relax for a moment or two, you are exhausting me just by looking at you,” Aleida smirked, using the back of the chair to help her up. Her other hand rested on Ceril’s crossed forearm as a means of comfort as she knew the weight he carried day in and day out while they were in the veil. “Now if you will excuse me, my liege,” she teased, “I must speak with Arabella.”


Slowly but surely, Aleida made her way over to the small woman and felt quite a bit of her sarcasm and rough exterior dissipate as it had been doing more frequently in the Veil. Not without a bit of effort, Aleida lowered herself down with a soft grunt and sat next to the woman, making no means to speak for the first few moments. “I heard that you were the one who ran after me when I was thrown from Rowan,” Aleida began, her words kind and soft — very unlike the usual attitude she held with Ceril. “I wanted to thank you for that. Regardless of why you did it, I am alive because of you and for that I will be eternally grateful.”


“You see,” Aleida stretched out her arms a bit, trying to loosen the tight muscles in her back, “I have people to protect and I cannot protect them if I am dead. I find that, more often than not, the thought of protecting those I hold dear carries me through the Veil. All this darkness, all this death…it has a strange way of reminding you how alive you are and that life is something we have to fight for out here, it is not a guarantee. That Kinslayer could have killed us both and you still ran after me. Though I am uncertain what value my life truly holds…”


“You have my protection, Arabella,” Aleida smiled gently at the young woman, “and my friendship should you desire it.”


(@Elle Joyner @Coin)

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arabella Dane

After their arrival in Pratchet, and the difficult conversation she'd had with Marnie, Arabella found herself a little lost, and a lot wearier for it. She'd thrown herself into her work, given all she could to the tasks that came her way, but at the end of the evening, nothing could shake the feeling of dismay creeping over her. They had lost two members of the entourage already, and so many were injured... to top it off, the second supply cart had been decimated. But all of that seemed somehow further sullied by the thoughts which had plagued her since her dream earlier that morning.


She looked up as Aleida sat beside her, but said nothing until the woman spoke. The words were kind and rewarding, but Arabella's smile was sad, her posture meek as she reluctantly accepted the praise, "It was nothing that any one of us wouldn't do for another. I'm only glad I was able to get to you in time, though I'm afraid I would have been very little help, had it not been for Kepheus's aid, and the Prince's quick thinking."


Looking down at her hands, she sighed deeply, "I can't say I knew what to expect, coming into all of this. I imagined it would be difficult, but... but somehow I never pictured it quite like this. Strange as it seems to say, though, I'm not sorry I came. Back home, I... I have no one. I don't say that to garner sympathy, it's just the truth. My father was the only family I had, and he was murdered, three years ago. I'm unaccustomed to any manner of... of company beyond those I serve. But here, I have found friendship in unlikely places."


Her eyes shifted as she turned her gaze to Aleida, "All life holds value, no matter how great or small. Sometimes we only lack the vision to see it." Smiling gently, she bowed her head in a respectful nod, "I am deeply honored by your words, and by your offer. I cannot give much in exchange, as I am of little worth, but... but I suppose in this dark and dreadful place, friendship will, in the end, be the thing which matters more than anything else."

@Poe

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

Aleida listened carefully as Arabella spoke, her words soft but carrying the weight of all of her years, though they were few in number compared to the rest of the entourage. She sounded tired, beaten down emotionally by the Veil and Aleida knew the feeling well. A place like this shrouded in a sea of fog certainly had a way of heightening the fear they felt and no one could fault Arabella for feeling what so many of them felt. The Veil was nothing like they imagined, it was worse. It was a sick place full of morbid creatures that sucked the humanity and light from the air around them before they even managed to attack them.


“I am glad, truly, for your help. Even if it was a group effort,” Aleida smiled.


But more than that, Aleida could understand her sentiment. Everything Aleida had worth fighting for was here in the Veil with her or just barely out of reach. Her mother was there back in Regalis and while she wanted to return, Aleida was not even thinking of turning back until she had fought for those she needed to fight for.


“My father is out here, somewhere,” Aleida admitted quietly to her, never really having admitted it to anyone in the entourage save for Ceril who had been there the day he was reported as missing. “He came out here as one of the first responders to the Veil’s appearance and he never returned home. He was only supposed to be one two weeks time…but obviously that was not the case. I understand your words, as I am not sorry I came either. Even if there are no signs of my father, I can ensure that no one else is lost to me.”


“I am glad you have found people to hold dear in a place where so many lose,” she said, her words genuine as she spoke each one. “And just as you tell me that all life holds value, yours does as well. Kindness and compassion are never of little worth, they are traits that are quickly snuffed out in positions of power and ripped from those who serve them. To continue to live with them despite all that has happened, it takes a strong will and fierce protection of your heart — and it is exhausting. For you to have retained them is a testament to the strength of your heart. Perhaps, you are more capable than you believe.”


(@Elle Joyner)

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arabella Dane

Frowning thoughtfully, Arabella considered the woman's words. That was really what all of this was, wasn't it? A group effort. And maybe that was the only thing that would see them through it. Sticking together, forging a unity those monstrosities couldn't break. Maybe that was the only way to survive the horror of the veil. A part of her, for their sake, hoped she was right, but for the sake of those who had wandered into the veil first, she prayed she was wrong. That it was survivable, even for those with no one to fight beside them. Marnie had lost her brother, but maybe there was still hope for the others. Even if there was the smallest chance at all, she would hold to that hope.


"I'm sorry." She said, quietly, "About your father. Losing mine, it has been a weight on me for a long time. One I fear I may never shake free from. And being here has only made it more difficult. The things which come to light, the memories that are stirred. I pray you never know that pain. But know, whatever happens, you are not alone, here. I guess none of us are, and really little else matters." Looking up, her eyes moved around the camp, to the scattered clumps of soldiers and servants, of nobility and chattel. Their faces were all so different, their hearts.


"It's not much, is it? But for now, this is our family. And I don't know if your father is alive, or if you will find him, but I do know whatever happens... you've honored him, greatly... with your bravery, with your kindness."


Her smile lightened a little, as Aleida went on, "I suppose as it is, we both have something to learn about our own worth. Out here, there doesn't seem to be much hope, much light... Before he died, my father used to tell me that even the darkest places, the faintest glimmer can lead you home. It has always been my hope that if I can be nothing else of worth, I might be that little bit of brightness. Here, more than ever, that seems of dire importance."

 

[Poe]

Aleida Gregory

​

“Your father sounds like he was a brilliant man,” Aleida smiled gently, placing a hand on Arabella’s in a comforting motion. It was something her father had always done for her, never just leaving his words to bring her solace but reminding her that she was not alone even when the world around them was filled with darkness. “We need all of the light we can get, but perhaps between the two of us, we can do our part to lead this entourage home to safety,” Aleida nodded, her eyes glancing briefly over to Ceril and remembering their conversation earlier that day among the bodies strewn about from the Kinslayer. Aleida was not much of anything in the grand scheme of things, but she knew she had to see him out of this.


“After all, you say you are merely a little bit of brightness but I believe there is a flame in you that perhaps you have not learned to harness yet,” she said matter-of-factly, not a moment’s hesitation in her voice. “It takes a little more than a glimmer of hope to run head first into a dangerous situation.”


“Do not lose that, okay?” she glanced over at Arabella. “No matter what happens, that hope needs to be the one thing you hold onto. Hope is never useless and I fear we will need it more than ever as the days go by.”


“And thank you,” she added, hoping that her words were right. If nothing else, she hoped her father could be proud and that she honored him every day by living as the woman he knew she could be. “I do my best to honor him every day. He is a fearsome warrior and a good man — and I know his words would be similar to your own were he here. We are all each other has and we must see each other through this.”


Though rest sounded like the best option, Aleida could not bring herself to move from Arabella’s side. The deeper they ventured into the Veil, the more she began to realize just how important it was to remain as a unit. Even with members dying, such tragedy should serve to bring them together as opposed to tear them apart, and so Aleida remained. Not as a well born lady or friend of the Prince, but as a woman who found herself in the same dire situation as the woman next to her — as every other person, man or woman, still present within the Veil.


(@Elle Joyner)

 

[Doctor Jax]

Marnia Belhund


She had heard the prince's announcement from afar, and to get her mind off of the odd, empty feeling she felt inside of her, she decided that picking out a spot to sleep would be a good option. The mist still permeated the air here in the city, which she wasn't exactly glad of, and she knew that if she was to find lodging for the night, it was going to be somewhere with plenty of exits -- tiny ones only she could get through. She didn't plan on being snuck up on in the middle of the night, by bandit or beast. Edina would need a place to lay her head as well, and by God she wasn't going to go looking for some place herself, not while she was suddenly so buddy-buddy with Alex.


After Kepheus' little pep talk, she'd thought about his words, and she'd reviewed the two of them, these knights who'd known each other for so long. She'd always been a little awkward around Alex just because of Edina's seeming dislike of him, but as she thought over the past few days she'd noticed that Edina had warmed up to the other knight considerably. She'd never asked Edina her history with the other man, just in case she turned over stones meant to stay unturned, but perhaps those old wounds had finally healed over. Alex wasn't a bad man -- melancholy, yes, and a little brooding, yeah, but he was a good person at heart who meant to do the right thing and always seemed to carry the world on his shoulders like some kind of giant from a fairytale.


She walked through the empty streets away from the light of the fire with cautious steps, wincing often at the pain in her side. The rib was definitely cracked, but it wasn't broken -- thank Heaven. She could walk, she could still fight, but it was going to burn and sting like nobody's business. She was still woozy from blood loss, but after yesterday's fare and the long ride, she was feeling better. Now, if only her heart would stop aching.


She found several buildings, all of them empty. Quite a few were lodging houses, but there were also actual houses as well, and many of those were quite nice. Marnie felt a pang of envy. Their own house, castle really, was a crumbling mess by the time she was a child. They had not the coin to pay for servants to clean the place, and that task was left to Marnie and her girl-cousins, as well as aunts and mother. Soon, they'd occupied only a quarter of the castle, the rest falling prey to damp. These houses, though... these houses had servants and larders that were full and guests...


She walked into one of the houses which had its door hanging open, and she found a hallway in shambles. Vandals must have taken most of the valuables. She crept along inside the house. She found several rooms that were untouched, besides the tapestries on the walls being ripped off, the candelabras stolen for their silver, and she found a kitchen with a larder. All in all, the kitchen seemed to her the safest place. There was only one entrance that something human sized could go through, and there were several exits that were smaller, such as the windows. There were also plenty of spaces for a person to hide, and some of the cutlery, most of them kitchen knives, had been left alone.


She headed back to camp at a fast limp to find Edina, and she said to her mentor, "I think I found ourselves lodgin's for the night. Nice house down the street, got a nice, secure kitchen. Door's easy to bar, there's windows to climb out of and nothin' can climb inta, and there's a larder, but's locked."


@Space Cowboy Ein

 

[Coin]

PRINCE CERIL





DAYBREAK


Walls never seem like a blessing until peril followed the weary traveler from all directions. Even though Ceril enjoyed a rather comfortable cot and a rather spacious tent most nights on the road anyway, the sense of safety a thin sheet of hide provided was nothing compared to stone walls in every direction. Yet, the Prince's troubled mind found itself wandering before the sun woke. Few stirred along with the guard at this hour as Ceril made his way past tired eyes. He knew these soldiers were as beaten and battered as the next, they sure as Hell didn't need royalty barking orders while darkness still reigned over them. Plus, hunger and a lack of food would drive them awake and to do their jobs soon enough anyway. So, Ceril made his way to the service tower of the guard house with saber in belt and climbed up the sturdy ladder.


After a few minutes of fiddling with the hatch, he managed to bust the old wood and break into the roof of the building. His objective was to get a breath of fresh air being constricted to the recycled air of the building below for the night, but there was just something about the Veil that made escaping its choking grasp impossible. With a sigh, he sat down at the edge of the roof and scanned the streets below and the structures that dotted the streets. Though the fog made it hard to see too far into the city, it was still calming seeing the streets devoid of life. It reminded him of the nights and mornings he would spend on his balcony back at the castle. No matter the time of day, there was always someone in the streets, be it a guard patrol or a man down on his luck -- it was both impossible and so very easy to feel lonely in Vaelmaceria.


Ceril wasn't quite sure how long he spent on the roof, but it was long enough for the sun to begin to rise. It may have taken a few days in the Veil, but Ceril really took the sun for granted. They had not seen it directly since the entourage left Ashlow and now that'd be first thing next to safety that he would wish for. For now, he had to lead his people in what might be the most pivotal point in the whole journey. Their morale was close to a breaking point and with constant death looming over their heads, Ceril now had to convince them that they were invincible, that they had to potentially throw their lives away for him and the crown.


How unfair.


(@Veirrianna Valentine @Poe)

 

[Elle Joyner]

Arabella Dane

After her conversation with Aleida, Arabella went to sleep that night feeling more relief than she might have expected after so drastically terrible a day. It was strange how one person's support could be such a comfort, and she was sure she'd never be able to properly convey what Aleida's kindness meant to her. Like Marnie, Aleida didn't seem hindered by the separation in class, and for a time, however brief it might have been, Arabella felt like she wasn't alone.


She slept, but it was not dreamless, as she might have hoped. She woke several times, sweat clinging to her skin, eyes damp, her heart a pounding drum against her chest. It was always the same, visions of that night, but with each dream came more memories she had buried, more devastation she had willed away into the recesses of her mind, where she'd hoped never again to be plagued by them. Each dream also carried with the reminder that one among the entourage knew her more than he'd been willing to admit. She didn't doubt it, now. He wasn't the type to leave a thing like that to linger. It was why he had spoken to her about it, the night of her altercation with Gwen. But where before she had suffered suspicion and even anger towards Alexander, every time she closed her eyes and his face burned into her thoughts, she felt an increasing sense of sympathy for the man. He had carried the weight of what had happened for so long, and for all the good he had done, saving her life, he knew surely that she had endured much, even still. And in offering to help her find justice for her father, he was, in essence, offering to sacrifice his blood... his brother... For there was no question in her mind now that was who had attacked her that night. No bond could be so great, to keep Alexander from turning him in.


She had to speak with him... and soon, before she lost her courage.


As morning dawned, Arabella went to work, she and the other servants gathering whatever supplies they had managed to salvage to make breakfast. Afterwards, they would go out to see what they could find in the city, and while she was afraid of what might be out there, there was also the increasing hope that they might find something... anything which would offer a little light to their miserable quest.