Red Sinfonia
My Mother's Savage Daughter
the sacrificial dead
for soldmysoul & Red Sinfonia
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The Sacrificial Dead
- Thread starter Red Sinfonia
- Start date
the sacrificial dead
for soldmysoul & Red Sinfonia
Red Sinfonia
My Mother's Savage Daughter
There was an eerie silence on the precipice of Fallcourt Keep, the profaned temple shrouded in the red mist of the desecrated dead. The sacrilegious figure loomed, spitting in the face of life and death and their eternal balance, imposed upon the sun in its setting hours and casting a thick veil over the earth and its thickly forested hills. A pervasive stench leaked from the deepest bowels of the Keep, spilling down the lands and trapping the victimized village of Malinovka in its ensorceling sight.
Long ago, when the Keep had paid homage to the gods within its marble grasp, its gallant statues threaded with gold, unimpeded by the dried caking of the suffering, Omori Thrayne supposed that it may have been beautiful - less the blasphemous cancer on Kal'um that it currently was. But the priests and the priestesses of brilliance had passed into old age, their kind dwindling, and the vestiges of them were slaughtered ritualistically. Grave cloaks poisoned its walls presently, marring the grace of the divinities that had once bared their golden light to Malinovka, confiscating their dead and, when that wasn't enough, taking the living. An old necromancer, a feared and hated man even among grave cloaks, lurked behind its black walls with his entourage, creatures that were the clawing gravel of the dirt, ones that called themselves the Shades of the Deserted. They were idealistic, passionate, mad. They were dangerous; moreso than many of Omori's past marks.
A shadow emerged at his side, but Omori did not turn to look at the beastly canine, a jagged abomination that moved like bucking liquid on six legs; a fragment of his past, the only that he would not desert. Shai leaned her head down, teeth coated in the bloody foam of a fresh kill, and he could feel the hot breath on the side of his neck. "We must move," she warned, her spectral voice piercing his observations. He glanced over his shoulder, away from her, and saw the small gathering of townspeople at the neck of the cobbled road, bent iron weapons clutched in hopeful hands. They had advanced when they knew his companion had ravaged the risen guards, their leery attitudes toward Shai overridden by their animosity for the Shades.
They were waiting. Some, he guessed, to see the savaged bodies of their antagonists, their blood painted over the remains of the many they'd tortured. Some, he knew, waited to find loved ones, to bury or to rescue. Even with all odds against it, they hoped for the latter. Omori was not one to turn them away.
Knelt against the stones, Omori rifled through the leather bag at his side. From it he pulled a plethora of black bolts, their tips carved from a hard, fiery red gemstone called 'Phoenix Heart'. Following them, he pulled bottles with oddly shaped openings. Uncapped, the aroma was powerful and acrid, and he dipped the bolts in the liquid before he loaded them into the onyx crossbow at his side. More of both were tucked into the holsters at his thighs, buckled over dark leathers, sidling next to small, bone blades. They were overshadowed by the twin daggers at his hips, their length slick and angry, consecrated by the hands of Death and blessed with the blood of the damned.
The tall man rose to his feet, his skewed, dark cloak rippling over his left shoulder as he did so, and he leaned his crossbow against his right. His muscled chest was bare, armed with strange, circular sigils that were carved into the flesh, some purple with age and others red as fresh wounds. Only his arms on his torso were covered, wrapped in sleeves that buckled beneath his collarbone and at his back.
This was as ready as he was going to be. Omori and Shai approached Fallcourt Keep, the Shades no doubt scrambling to prepare for his arrival once they felt the connections to their slaves severed. He could feel the eyes of the villagers at his back. No leaving now.
They entered the temple and despite the approach of the undead, the risen hardly resembling the humans they once were, Shai cut them short, her powerful jaws put to work. Omori did not stop his advancement, only quickened. They couldn't run now; he felt their urgency with the desperation of their monsters. They navigated halls, followed the twists and turns, moved deeper into the fetid temple, until they breached the main chamber.
There was one man there. Only one. The Shade with the gaze of a violent sage, with ages of time hiding behind yellowing eyes. He of patience and biding, standing at the alter in the ribcage of the temple. Weathered hands were raised, crooked fingers bent. There was a murmuring on his lips with wickedness in his eyes. Omori knew who he was, the man of the Shades of the Deserted, the old grave cloak that had eluded many, but he did not have time to humor Cysir. It was his only chance, the necromancer's underlings no doubt securing a second wave of abominations in the level beneath his feet.
As Cysir's mouth twisted, preparing a furious shout, the bolt was released, its barking spring accenting the whistle of its flight. There was a slick thud as it found its home in his chest, angrily shoving aside the cracked rib it had ruthlessly bit into, and faithfully placing its envenomed tip in a rapidly beating heart. There was a surprised screech, a quiet moment of shock, old eyes gazing down at the agent of death that drank his powers even now. Poison beat through his veins, turned his magic against himself, and he slumped into a heap on the floor. Omori breathed a heavy sigh, beginning his strides toward the corpse.
"Omori!" Shai's voice stopped him in his tracks and then, too late, he heard it. The rhythm of voices, the darkest of chants. From the shadows of columns, frenzied eyes watched him, their lips working on a steady rise. Quickly, he turned and took an underling down with a bolt, their scream hardly hindering the terrible sound. His companion had brought down another, but even in their agony, the dying contributed to the din. Before Omori or Shai could make a dent in their trek, they did the unthinkable. They dropped dead. Every putrid essence in their bodies drained like fluid from their pores, collecting itself from every corpse... and then poured into Cysir.
"No... no!" Omori gasped, kicking into a run towards the forming horror, but it was too late. The force of the creation, of the obscene spell, caused shockwaves to rock the temple, to throw the hunter back. Oily shadows consumed the body, bones cracking as it reformed the figure within the cocoon. A face peered out at him, with old, sage eyes, laughter nestled within them, and then they were gone. Cysir was gone, leaving Omori bereft. "What... what have I done?"
"They have made the Sacrifice of Undeath," Shai said, her voice wrapped in a sound of disbelief.
Omori was still standing there, before the alter, when the villagers flooded into the chamber. Their voices were a stab in his chest. He'd failed. They celebrated with hushed whispers, followed by orders to find what was left of their loved ones - to seek the mausoleum underneath the temple, but he had failed. Malinovka was free, for now, but a darker evil would eclipse Kal'um soon and his recklessness had loosed it.
Long ago, when the Keep had paid homage to the gods within its marble grasp, its gallant statues threaded with gold, unimpeded by the dried caking of the suffering, Omori Thrayne supposed that it may have been beautiful - less the blasphemous cancer on Kal'um that it currently was. But the priests and the priestesses of brilliance had passed into old age, their kind dwindling, and the vestiges of them were slaughtered ritualistically. Grave cloaks poisoned its walls presently, marring the grace of the divinities that had once bared their golden light to Malinovka, confiscating their dead and, when that wasn't enough, taking the living. An old necromancer, a feared and hated man even among grave cloaks, lurked behind its black walls with his entourage, creatures that were the clawing gravel of the dirt, ones that called themselves the Shades of the Deserted. They were idealistic, passionate, mad. They were dangerous; moreso than many of Omori's past marks.
A shadow emerged at his side, but Omori did not turn to look at the beastly canine, a jagged abomination that moved like bucking liquid on six legs; a fragment of his past, the only that he would not desert. Shai leaned her head down, teeth coated in the bloody foam of a fresh kill, and he could feel the hot breath on the side of his neck. "We must move," she warned, her spectral voice piercing his observations. He glanced over his shoulder, away from her, and saw the small gathering of townspeople at the neck of the cobbled road, bent iron weapons clutched in hopeful hands. They had advanced when they knew his companion had ravaged the risen guards, their leery attitudes toward Shai overridden by their animosity for the Shades.
They were waiting. Some, he guessed, to see the savaged bodies of their antagonists, their blood painted over the remains of the many they'd tortured. Some, he knew, waited to find loved ones, to bury or to rescue. Even with all odds against it, they hoped for the latter. Omori was not one to turn them away.
Knelt against the stones, Omori rifled through the leather bag at his side. From it he pulled a plethora of black bolts, their tips carved from a hard, fiery red gemstone called 'Phoenix Heart'. Following them, he pulled bottles with oddly shaped openings. Uncapped, the aroma was powerful and acrid, and he dipped the bolts in the liquid before he loaded them into the onyx crossbow at his side. More of both were tucked into the holsters at his thighs, buckled over dark leathers, sidling next to small, bone blades. They were overshadowed by the twin daggers at his hips, their length slick and angry, consecrated by the hands of Death and blessed with the blood of the damned.
The tall man rose to his feet, his skewed, dark cloak rippling over his left shoulder as he did so, and he leaned his crossbow against his right. His muscled chest was bare, armed with strange, circular sigils that were carved into the flesh, some purple with age and others red as fresh wounds. Only his arms on his torso were covered, wrapped in sleeves that buckled beneath his collarbone and at his back.
This was as ready as he was going to be. Omori and Shai approached Fallcourt Keep, the Shades no doubt scrambling to prepare for his arrival once they felt the connections to their slaves severed. He could feel the eyes of the villagers at his back. No leaving now.
They entered the temple and despite the approach of the undead, the risen hardly resembling the humans they once were, Shai cut them short, her powerful jaws put to work. Omori did not stop his advancement, only quickened. They couldn't run now; he felt their urgency with the desperation of their monsters. They navigated halls, followed the twists and turns, moved deeper into the fetid temple, until they breached the main chamber.
There was one man there. Only one. The Shade with the gaze of a violent sage, with ages of time hiding behind yellowing eyes. He of patience and biding, standing at the alter in the ribcage of the temple. Weathered hands were raised, crooked fingers bent. There was a murmuring on his lips with wickedness in his eyes. Omori knew who he was, the man of the Shades of the Deserted, the old grave cloak that had eluded many, but he did not have time to humor Cysir. It was his only chance, the necromancer's underlings no doubt securing a second wave of abominations in the level beneath his feet.
As Cysir's mouth twisted, preparing a furious shout, the bolt was released, its barking spring accenting the whistle of its flight. There was a slick thud as it found its home in his chest, angrily shoving aside the cracked rib it had ruthlessly bit into, and faithfully placing its envenomed tip in a rapidly beating heart. There was a surprised screech, a quiet moment of shock, old eyes gazing down at the agent of death that drank his powers even now. Poison beat through his veins, turned his magic against himself, and he slumped into a heap on the floor. Omori breathed a heavy sigh, beginning his strides toward the corpse.
"Omori!" Shai's voice stopped him in his tracks and then, too late, he heard it. The rhythm of voices, the darkest of chants. From the shadows of columns, frenzied eyes watched him, their lips working on a steady rise. Quickly, he turned and took an underling down with a bolt, their scream hardly hindering the terrible sound. His companion had brought down another, but even in their agony, the dying contributed to the din. Before Omori or Shai could make a dent in their trek, they did the unthinkable. They dropped dead. Every putrid essence in their bodies drained like fluid from their pores, collecting itself from every corpse... and then poured into Cysir.
"No... no!" Omori gasped, kicking into a run towards the forming horror, but it was too late. The force of the creation, of the obscene spell, caused shockwaves to rock the temple, to throw the hunter back. Oily shadows consumed the body, bones cracking as it reformed the figure within the cocoon. A face peered out at him, with old, sage eyes, laughter nestled within them, and then they were gone. Cysir was gone, leaving Omori bereft. "What... what have I done?"
"They have made the Sacrifice of Undeath," Shai said, her voice wrapped in a sound of disbelief.
Omori was still standing there, before the alter, when the villagers flooded into the chamber. Their voices were a stab in his chest. He'd failed. They celebrated with hushed whispers, followed by orders to find what was left of their loved ones - to seek the mausoleum underneath the temple, but he had failed. Malinovka was free, for now, but a darker evil would eclipse Kal'um soon and his recklessness had loosed it.
soldmysoul
Doctor Professor Patrick
Elena Vasilescu stood back and watched as the aggregation of villagers seem to multiply exponentially beside the stairs of the temple. Long ago, before the Vasilescu bloodline brought along conformity to the people of Malinovka, the curse of the undead had already begun it's undertaking of those who shared the same blood that ran through the woman's veins. For years the curse ravaged the family, it was but three months ago that Elena watched her own parents perish at the very feet of Cysir. She was all that remained of the Vasilescu bloodline, and how she managed to escape what many have come to believe was merely the execrable fate of the family, is still unknown.
Now, to watch her people in such a state of horror and agony after suffering for months of helplessness and hopelessness was wretched. Ivan Svalov, her fathers confidant and personal adviser, stepped forward, away from the horses and cab, to accompany Elena as she continued to take in the monumental loss the town had suffered. No words had to be said, the despair polluted the dark air that encompassed Malinovka and forced itself down the throats of the people. However, a glimmer of light had figuratively broke through the thick, infected air, allowing Malinovka to breath easy for a while, or however long until Cysir returned. But who was their hero? Who exactly was the man, alongside his vile beast, that rescued the village from the wrath of Cysir?
"His name is Omori Thrayne." Ivan broke the silence between he and Elena. She simply turned her head to Ivan as if giving him permission to inform her of all that he knew. "The shadow hunter. He's the hope that we've so long ago lost, he can destroy them."
Elena switched her attention back to the man that stood brazenly among the mourners. She wasn't completely sure how she felt about this man, of course she was thankful that he came and rid the village of the undead, but she begrudgingly failed to accept the fact that it wasn't herself that had saved her village. These were her people after all, would they fawn over him the way they fawned over her father when he originally defeated the original dictator of Malinovka decades before? Admittedly, Elena was experiencing near total defeat before the arrival of Thrayne and his companion, however she could not exonerate him completely from her envious mind. Putting all personal feelings aside was something Elena had known to be wise as a leader, so it was the potential impact that an alliance with Thrayne could prove necessary in continuing to protect Malinovka from any future attacks.
The strides Elena took over the cobbled streets, toward where Omori Thrayne stood, were swift and full of purpose. The villagers she passed nodded their heads out of respect as she brushed by, eventually reaching her destination next to Omori.
"Omori Thrayne? My name is Elena Vasilecu and I would like to extend my gratitude on behalf of Malinovka." Her accent was thick, resembling that of a Russian, but it was commonplace in Malinovka and the large, surrounding lands. The chilled wind blew, her thick, dark hair temporarily shrouding her face. She brought a hand up, to move the locks of curls out of the way. "Surely you must be cold, and would like to join me inside for a drink."
Now, to watch her people in such a state of horror and agony after suffering for months of helplessness and hopelessness was wretched. Ivan Svalov, her fathers confidant and personal adviser, stepped forward, away from the horses and cab, to accompany Elena as she continued to take in the monumental loss the town had suffered. No words had to be said, the despair polluted the dark air that encompassed Malinovka and forced itself down the throats of the people. However, a glimmer of light had figuratively broke through the thick, infected air, allowing Malinovka to breath easy for a while, or however long until Cysir returned. But who was their hero? Who exactly was the man, alongside his vile beast, that rescued the village from the wrath of Cysir?
"His name is Omori Thrayne." Ivan broke the silence between he and Elena. She simply turned her head to Ivan as if giving him permission to inform her of all that he knew. "The shadow hunter. He's the hope that we've so long ago lost, he can destroy them."
Elena switched her attention back to the man that stood brazenly among the mourners. She wasn't completely sure how she felt about this man, of course she was thankful that he came and rid the village of the undead, but she begrudgingly failed to accept the fact that it wasn't herself that had saved her village. These were her people after all, would they fawn over him the way they fawned over her father when he originally defeated the original dictator of Malinovka decades before? Admittedly, Elena was experiencing near total defeat before the arrival of Thrayne and his companion, however she could not exonerate him completely from her envious mind. Putting all personal feelings aside was something Elena had known to be wise as a leader, so it was the potential impact that an alliance with Thrayne could prove necessary in continuing to protect Malinovka from any future attacks.
The strides Elena took over the cobbled streets, toward where Omori Thrayne stood, were swift and full of purpose. The villagers she passed nodded their heads out of respect as she brushed by, eventually reaching her destination next to Omori.
"Omori Thrayne? My name is Elena Vasilecu and I would like to extend my gratitude on behalf of Malinovka." Her accent was thick, resembling that of a Russian, but it was commonplace in Malinovka and the large, surrounding lands. The chilled wind blew, her thick, dark hair temporarily shrouding her face. She brought a hand up, to move the locks of curls out of the way. "Surely you must be cold, and would like to join me inside for a drink."
Red Sinfonia
My Mother's Savage Daughter
For some time, Omori had stood there, listening to the voices of the living, their lament over the dead. Even the nails on the cobbles had faded long past as Shai had aided in the search of the temple, making sure that all of the grave cloaks and their underlings were truly dead. She had left the hunter to his thoughts, his guilt, his mind scrambling to pick back up the pieces of the disaster that he had helped incur. The eyes that were swallowed by darkness burned into his mind, their sick humor burning a whole in his chest. His hands balled into fists and his body tensed. The determination in him was set; he was going to make this right, to fix what he had spilled.
When his remorse was overwhelmed by the stony resolve his bore, Omori went to each necromantic corpse and tore open the clothes on their chest. People watched him with shadows beneath their eyes; watched as he placed his hand flat on their bodies and, beneath it, a sigil was carved into their flesh, similar to ones found on his chest. He did this with each one, condemning them to immortal Death.
It was with the entourage of the villagers that Omori descended into Malinovka, Shai trotting up to his side once the temple was truly empty. They carted their dead in a mournful silence, even whispers waiting patiently on their breaths.
As they arrived in the village, many broke away - some to graveyards and others to taverns. Many remained, greeting those that they had left behind and telling them about what had transpired. A foreigner, obvious from his clothes, if not from bright, golden eyes faceted to his tan face, that watched alien interactions. Some approached and breathed their thanks. One older woman had grasped his hand. The touches felt distant, though Omori looked down at them; felt like he was so far inside himself that he was not truly in his skin.
The crowd had begun to thin and Omori was beginning to put away his things, sure that the necromancers had truly been erased from the village. That was when he was approached by a young woman, the waves of her dark hair framing a strong gaze. A name and a thanks was what he gave her, though he wanted to reject the latter, he did not. Instead, he examined her quietly and noted her observation of his chill. There were some cold bumps, tiny pinpricks, that populated across his chest, which stood without protection to the soft wind, but he had paid it no mind.
Omori both did and did not want a drink. Too many things to do, including tracking down the new abomination that Kal'um was faced with, but his body ached for nourishment. Shai's muzzle pushing on the back of his knee was affirmation that he should take the offer.
Without word, he nodded, but put up a hand to denote needing a moment. Swinging the crossbow down from his shoulder, he unloaded the bolts from its grasp, wiped the venom from their tips, and placed his things into his leather bag. Once that was done, he faced Elena. "Lead the way," he said, his voice a gentle baritone.
When his remorse was overwhelmed by the stony resolve his bore, Omori went to each necromantic corpse and tore open the clothes on their chest. People watched him with shadows beneath their eyes; watched as he placed his hand flat on their bodies and, beneath it, a sigil was carved into their flesh, similar to ones found on his chest. He did this with each one, condemning them to immortal Death.
It was with the entourage of the villagers that Omori descended into Malinovka, Shai trotting up to his side once the temple was truly empty. They carted their dead in a mournful silence, even whispers waiting patiently on their breaths.
As they arrived in the village, many broke away - some to graveyards and others to taverns. Many remained, greeting those that they had left behind and telling them about what had transpired. A foreigner, obvious from his clothes, if not from bright, golden eyes faceted to his tan face, that watched alien interactions. Some approached and breathed their thanks. One older woman had grasped his hand. The touches felt distant, though Omori looked down at them; felt like he was so far inside himself that he was not truly in his skin.
The crowd had begun to thin and Omori was beginning to put away his things, sure that the necromancers had truly been erased from the village. That was when he was approached by a young woman, the waves of her dark hair framing a strong gaze. A name and a thanks was what he gave her, though he wanted to reject the latter, he did not. Instead, he examined her quietly and noted her observation of his chill. There were some cold bumps, tiny pinpricks, that populated across his chest, which stood without protection to the soft wind, but he had paid it no mind.
Omori both did and did not want a drink. Too many things to do, including tracking down the new abomination that Kal'um was faced with, but his body ached for nourishment. Shai's muzzle pushing on the back of his knee was affirmation that he should take the offer.
Without word, he nodded, but put up a hand to denote needing a moment. Swinging the crossbow down from his shoulder, he unloaded the bolts from its grasp, wiped the venom from their tips, and placed his things into his leather bag. Once that was done, he faced Elena. "Lead the way," he said, his voice a gentle baritone.
soldmysoul
Doctor Professor Patrick
Elena turned back around holding up her hand to give Ivan the signal. The short-statured man in the distance nodded in acknowledgement as he made his way to where the horses waited for their next ride.
"It's just a short ride back," her attention then turned to the beastly creature whom accompanied Omori, "although I'm not sure your friend will fit inside the cabin. " She continued to examine Shai through her dark eyes, not once in her day has she encountered such a creature and the curiosity inside of her intensified.
Ivan Svalov approached the trio shortly thereafter. "Elena, the horses have been readied." It was in that moment in which he caught sight of Shai, causing him to back away, which in turn lead to the smirk that appeared on Elena's face in mere amusement.
"Mister Thrayne, this is Ivan Svalov. An extremely well trusted friend of my family, and believe it or not, very wise despite his ignorant fears." She nudged Ivan teasingly at the last part before making her way over to where the horses idled.
Six enormous black horses waited, toting an equally dark carriage behind them which could carry several occupants comfortably. Ivan was the first to the carriage, opening the door for Elena as she stepped up in inside, taking a seat beside the opposite window. Ivan was second to enter, placing himself beside Elena and leaving the seating on the opposite side for Omori and possibly Shai.
Just as the two were comfortably seated in the passenger cabin, a low grumbling of thunder harrowed across the village. Light rain drops began to dance across the cobblestone streets, matching the very tears that fell from the eyes of the villagers. The sound of thunder and the beginning rain was enough to drive those that still found themselves loitering the streets, to take shelter before the storm could amplify. A few of the people lingered under the sign of a nearby tavern, almost as if they were watching their newfound hero off.
"It's just a short ride back," her attention then turned to the beastly creature whom accompanied Omori, "although I'm not sure your friend will fit inside the cabin. " She continued to examine Shai through her dark eyes, not once in her day has she encountered such a creature and the curiosity inside of her intensified.
Ivan Svalov approached the trio shortly thereafter. "Elena, the horses have been readied." It was in that moment in which he caught sight of Shai, causing him to back away, which in turn lead to the smirk that appeared on Elena's face in mere amusement.
"Mister Thrayne, this is Ivan Svalov. An extremely well trusted friend of my family, and believe it or not, very wise despite his ignorant fears." She nudged Ivan teasingly at the last part before making her way over to where the horses idled.
Six enormous black horses waited, toting an equally dark carriage behind them which could carry several occupants comfortably. Ivan was the first to the carriage, opening the door for Elena as she stepped up in inside, taking a seat beside the opposite window. Ivan was second to enter, placing himself beside Elena and leaving the seating on the opposite side for Omori and possibly Shai.
Just as the two were comfortably seated in the passenger cabin, a low grumbling of thunder harrowed across the village. Light rain drops began to dance across the cobblestone streets, matching the very tears that fell from the eyes of the villagers. The sound of thunder and the beginning rain was enough to drive those that still found themselves loitering the streets, to take shelter before the storm could amplify. A few of the people lingered under the sign of a nearby tavern, almost as if they were watching their newfound hero off.
Red Sinfonia
My Mother's Savage Daughter
The horses of the carriage grew irritated the closer that Omori and Shai got to them, biting at their bits nervously and attempting to peer beyond their blinders. They were only reacting primitively to the base sensation that curled up their spines, warning them of danger. Even humans reacted to it, at times; namely, when Omori was passing through as opposed to actively helping the community, where they would have little choice other than to accept it. Being a foreigner scarred with necromantic sigils caused apprehension enough, but added to the fact was that he - and Shai - were bathed in the essence and blood of grave cloaks, a stain on the soul that could never be cleansed, and he had been touched by Death himself. The living world felt this and shied away from their presence, as they should.
Watching the wary Ivan and Elena climb into the carriage, he adjusted his things and moved in after them, pressing against the window. Shortly after him, Shai placed her first set of forelimbs into the space, preparing to heave her body into the carriage, but it groaned audibly, shifting beneath them, and one of the horses gave an anxious yelp. Shai relieved the pressure. "I will follow on foot," she spoke, her voice obtaining a soft echo.
With that, Shai's figure disappeared from the opening and the carriage door was shut. There was a slight stress on Omori's conscience without her, his eyes glancing at the empty space to his side.
The carriage had lurched as the horses were urged, and Omori imagined Shai moving at a liquid gallop behind them. He looked up at the two across from him, his legs spread and his fingers interlaced, nestled in his lap. His crossbow took up the rest of the space on his seat.
"Ivan, Elena," he broke the silence, acknowledging them. "I cannot stay long," he said, shifting in his place. "The acolytes of the Shades of the Deserted committed a most atrocious act of blasphemy and because of it, Cysir is alive. He has retreated, regaining his strength. I must leave to find him in the darkest hours of the morning."
Watching the wary Ivan and Elena climb into the carriage, he adjusted his things and moved in after them, pressing against the window. Shortly after him, Shai placed her first set of forelimbs into the space, preparing to heave her body into the carriage, but it groaned audibly, shifting beneath them, and one of the horses gave an anxious yelp. Shai relieved the pressure. "I will follow on foot," she spoke, her voice obtaining a soft echo.
With that, Shai's figure disappeared from the opening and the carriage door was shut. There was a slight stress on Omori's conscience without her, his eyes glancing at the empty space to his side.
The carriage had lurched as the horses were urged, and Omori imagined Shai moving at a liquid gallop behind them. He looked up at the two across from him, his legs spread and his fingers interlaced, nestled in his lap. His crossbow took up the rest of the space on his seat.
"Ivan, Elena," he broke the silence, acknowledging them. "I cannot stay long," he said, shifting in his place. "The acolytes of the Shades of the Deserted committed a most atrocious act of blasphemy and because of it, Cysir is alive. He has retreated, regaining his strength. I must leave to find him in the darkest hours of the morning."
soldmysoul
Doctor Professor Patrick
The horses began their mighty gallop in order to bring the carriage to the mansion on the hill that sat just beyond the threshold of the forest. The rain began to pick up, but did not hinder in the way of their intense force.
"Tell me, Mister Thrayne, in what ways do you plan on defeating him? It is to my understanding that this loathsome demon cannot be destroyed by just anyone, in fact, by no human. Unless of course, you are not exactly as you appear." Elena pulled her locks of hair over one shoulder, running her fingers through the lengthy strands before she clasped her hands together, allowing them to rest in her lap as she waited for a response from the man just opposite of her.
Ivan was turned on his seat as he gazed out of the window, his eyes taking in the passing forest of trees before they fell on to Shai. The beasts outward appearance caused him to shudder, and turn away from the window, sitting up straight in his seat. He tried to focus on the conversation at hand but his attention was continually being stolen by the wariness he had due to Shai, causing him to repeatedly look out the window. He had hoped that the intense anxiety was not too obvious to the stranger.
"Tell me, Mister Thrayne, in what ways do you plan on defeating him? It is to my understanding that this loathsome demon cannot be destroyed by just anyone, in fact, by no human. Unless of course, you are not exactly as you appear." Elena pulled her locks of hair over one shoulder, running her fingers through the lengthy strands before she clasped her hands together, allowing them to rest in her lap as she waited for a response from the man just opposite of her.
Ivan was turned on his seat as he gazed out of the window, his eyes taking in the passing forest of trees before they fell on to Shai. The beasts outward appearance caused him to shudder, and turn away from the window, sitting up straight in his seat. He tried to focus on the conversation at hand but his attention was continually being stolen by the wariness he had due to Shai, causing him to repeatedly look out the window. He had hoped that the intense anxiety was not too obvious to the stranger.
Red Sinfonia
My Mother's Savage Daughter
The rain audibly pattered against the roof of the carriage and Omori peered up at it, his mind conjuring up the words that he wished to bring to light. Looking back down, he did not miss Ivan's recurrent glances of fear out the window, nor his attempt to try and hide it. It was as though he feared Shai herself would leap into the carriage and tear him limb from limb, devouring pieces of him alive while she gruffly laughed. The imagery actually made him smirk, if only for the ridiculousness of it. In the end, he knew that he could not blame the villagers for their terror of his companion. She was a creation of necromancers; the same that had reared him. She held a piece of him inside her, the creature of his flesh and blood. A powerful bond. Beasts like her, save that they were mindless and slavering, were utilized by lesser grave cloaks to rend skin and bone from their victims and enemies alike.
"Shai will not harm you, I can promise that," Omori spoke, curiously turning his head. He knew that the reassurance may do little other than alert Ivan that he saw what he was doing, but perhaps it would startle him into a state of being more discreet.
Omori turned his attention back to Elena and the momentary humor bled from his gaze. "True, I am not what I seem," he said carefully. There was no doubt that he was human, but he was born a grave cloak, he had been touched by Death, and his blades could fell any blasphemous creature that dared to rot the flesh of the earth. Spelling that out did little to dispel people's fear and it was difficult enough when they trembled before Shai.
"It will be difficult," he admitted, his eyes glancing down and fanning dark lashes across his cheeks. No, it would not be easy to fell Cysir at all. May even take his life. But by Life and Death, he would do it. However, he didn't want to die. He knew that. He took a deep breath in and expelled it gently. "I may have to find help along the way. Taking down Cysir will be no easy task. I cannot do it alone, but I can do it."
"Shai will not harm you, I can promise that," Omori spoke, curiously turning his head. He knew that the reassurance may do little other than alert Ivan that he saw what he was doing, but perhaps it would startle him into a state of being more discreet.
Omori turned his attention back to Elena and the momentary humor bled from his gaze. "True, I am not what I seem," he said carefully. There was no doubt that he was human, but he was born a grave cloak, he had been touched by Death, and his blades could fell any blasphemous creature that dared to rot the flesh of the earth. Spelling that out did little to dispel people's fear and it was difficult enough when they trembled before Shai.
"It will be difficult," he admitted, his eyes glancing down and fanning dark lashes across his cheeks. No, it would not be easy to fell Cysir at all. May even take his life. But by Life and Death, he would do it. However, he didn't want to die. He knew that. He took a deep breath in and expelled it gently. "I may have to find help along the way. Taking down Cysir will be no easy task. I cannot do it alone, but I can do it."
soldmysoul
Doctor Professor Patrick
Ivan shuddered at the idea, Shai was unlike anything he had seen before and not even Omori's words of reassurance could draw out the fear. The man had seen a lot in his lifetime, in fact he'd witnessed some things that not many would be able to witness and still come out mentally unscathed. The fact that Shai had almost looked as if she was created from a mixture of the world's most dreadful creatures and conjured into one by some mad scientist is what disturbed him the most. On top of all that, she could devour Ivan in just a few bites.
Elena smiled smugly at Omori's response and gave a nod in understanding.
It wasn't much longer when the horses came to a halt in front of the elaborate mansion where the entire Vasilescu family once dwelled before meeting their untimely, and ultimately tragic demise. Ivan was first out of his seat, pushing open the door to the carriage as he hopped down onto the muddy ground, holding out a hand for Elena. The woman stood, crouching down as she neared the exit, taking hold of Ivan's hand before she stepped down as well. Instead of waiting for Omori, who she assumed would catch up in no time, Elena carried her slender frame to the entrance of the mansion, entering, where she was greeted by the large marble covered foyer. The echo of the heels to her boots traveled throughout her home before stopping once she made it to the dining room where an immense oak table stood in the center of the room. It was there that one of the family's long time servants, Mrs. Olga Muller, greeted Elena and pulled out the chair in which Elena sat.
"I see you have company Miss, I'll let Hans know you've arrived." Hans was the longtime husband of Olga, both have lived in this home and worked for the Vasilescu family for over a decade now and were like the only family Elena had left, except for Ivan of course. Olga went to exit into the kitchen just as Hans was entering the room.
"It's alright my darling," he directed toward his wife just as he brought in several drinks, "I heard them just as they arrived." Hans was a thin, yet rather tall man, his dark hair noticeably thinned on his head while growing thicker on his face. In front of Elena, whom sat at the end of the dining table, he placed a glass, and then another in the two seats on either side of her.
"Thank you, and no need to worry about us for the rest of the night, you two must retire to beds now, it's much too late." Despite the face that Olga and Hans were like family, they still took pride in their work and would work nearly all hours of the day unless Elena or Ivan would dismiss them.
Elena smiled smugly at Omori's response and gave a nod in understanding.
It wasn't much longer when the horses came to a halt in front of the elaborate mansion where the entire Vasilescu family once dwelled before meeting their untimely, and ultimately tragic demise. Ivan was first out of his seat, pushing open the door to the carriage as he hopped down onto the muddy ground, holding out a hand for Elena. The woman stood, crouching down as she neared the exit, taking hold of Ivan's hand before she stepped down as well. Instead of waiting for Omori, who she assumed would catch up in no time, Elena carried her slender frame to the entrance of the mansion, entering, where she was greeted by the large marble covered foyer. The echo of the heels to her boots traveled throughout her home before stopping once she made it to the dining room where an immense oak table stood in the center of the room. It was there that one of the family's long time servants, Mrs. Olga Muller, greeted Elena and pulled out the chair in which Elena sat.
"I see you have company Miss, I'll let Hans know you've arrived." Hans was the longtime husband of Olga, both have lived in this home and worked for the Vasilescu family for over a decade now and were like the only family Elena had left, except for Ivan of course. Olga went to exit into the kitchen just as Hans was entering the room.
"It's alright my darling," he directed toward his wife just as he brought in several drinks, "I heard them just as they arrived." Hans was a thin, yet rather tall man, his dark hair noticeably thinned on his head while growing thicker on his face. In front of Elena, whom sat at the end of the dining table, he placed a glass, and then another in the two seats on either side of her.
"Thank you, and no need to worry about us for the rest of the night, you two must retire to beds now, it's much too late." Despite the face that Olga and Hans were like family, they still took pride in their work and would work nearly all hours of the day unless Elena or Ivan would dismiss them.
Red Sinfonia
My Mother's Savage Daughter
The mansion that came into view broke the monotony of the dark wood that surrounded Malinovka, its exquisite, gilded work shining against the shadows that had wound itself around their village. The rain had created a soft mist that hugged its walls, accentuating its breathy appearance. At the sight of its opulence, Omori reassessed his calculation of Elena's status. He had heard the name before - Vasilescu - but had undervalued it at the time. In fact, he'd supposed that whatever Malinovka could call their nobility had already been slaughtered by the Shades, but it seemed that Elena was as stubborn as they'd come and had either fought or evaded them for some time.
As the carriage halted, its horses murmuring in chuffs and whinnies to be free of their yoke and out of the rain, Omori exited after Ivan and Elena. He paused before the looming appearance of her home, before turning his attention to Shai, who trotted to his side. Though she did not pant or heave, her body did not exhaust, Omori felt his muscles ache empathetically.
Though he had ignored it when the call for blood was strong, Omori's body begged for nourishment and rest.
Both followed Elena into the manor after a slight pause. Omori entered dining room as Elena had seated herself at the polished oak table, one that bespoke affluence. There was a somber shade to the room and he supposed that the table may have been filled before in the past, people on every seat - whether family or guest. There was something dismal about Ivan and Elena alone next to its grandeur, save for the two servants whom she spoke affectionately to, and they her.
Omori seated himself at Elena's right side, but Shai remained in a position that she favored, partway between the table and the entrance to the room. There she lay down, her torso up and alert while her legs askew and relaxed to the side. Long, bloodshot ears were perked and tall, listening and waiting for any of ill will who may wish to disrupt their affair.
"My thanks," Omori said, his fingers wrapping around the glass that had been awaiting him. He drank it, slowly, even if his parched throat begged for it, and felt his body fill with eager relief as a semi-sweet taste washed over his tongue. After a moment, he put it back down, his desperation abated. "I am curious, Lady Vasilescu," he began, wondering if he'd landed on the correct title. It wasn't normal for him to engage in conversation beyond the necessities, so he had no experience with the verbal mannerisms of speaking with those above peasantry. "What will you do with the temple now that the Shades have been killed?" He asked, his eyes slightly narrowing with gentle inquisition. He had realized that, even with its beauty, it may be simply a black mark on the village's history.
"Though... I'm sure that you didn't bring me here to discuss the future of Malinovka," Omori amended, though his tone was without apprehension - only honesty. "It is not usual for us to be offered hospitality beyond a night's reprieve at the inn."
"Are you rebuffing her generosity?" Shai asked, her head turned back at them.
For a moment, Omori paused long enough to think of his wording and the suspicion that may have seemed present in them. "Forgive me, I would not mean it that way. I just wonder if there's something else that you were hoping to discuss?" He revised.
As the carriage halted, its horses murmuring in chuffs and whinnies to be free of their yoke and out of the rain, Omori exited after Ivan and Elena. He paused before the looming appearance of her home, before turning his attention to Shai, who trotted to his side. Though she did not pant or heave, her body did not exhaust, Omori felt his muscles ache empathetically.
Though he had ignored it when the call for blood was strong, Omori's body begged for nourishment and rest.
Both followed Elena into the manor after a slight pause. Omori entered dining room as Elena had seated herself at the polished oak table, one that bespoke affluence. There was a somber shade to the room and he supposed that the table may have been filled before in the past, people on every seat - whether family or guest. There was something dismal about Ivan and Elena alone next to its grandeur, save for the two servants whom she spoke affectionately to, and they her.
Omori seated himself at Elena's right side, but Shai remained in a position that she favored, partway between the table and the entrance to the room. There she lay down, her torso up and alert while her legs askew and relaxed to the side. Long, bloodshot ears were perked and tall, listening and waiting for any of ill will who may wish to disrupt their affair.
"My thanks," Omori said, his fingers wrapping around the glass that had been awaiting him. He drank it, slowly, even if his parched throat begged for it, and felt his body fill with eager relief as a semi-sweet taste washed over his tongue. After a moment, he put it back down, his desperation abated. "I am curious, Lady Vasilescu," he began, wondering if he'd landed on the correct title. It wasn't normal for him to engage in conversation beyond the necessities, so he had no experience with the verbal mannerisms of speaking with those above peasantry. "What will you do with the temple now that the Shades have been killed?" He asked, his eyes slightly narrowing with gentle inquisition. He had realized that, even with its beauty, it may be simply a black mark on the village's history.
"Though... I'm sure that you didn't bring me here to discuss the future of Malinovka," Omori amended, though his tone was without apprehension - only honesty. "It is not usual for us to be offered hospitality beyond a night's reprieve at the inn."
"Are you rebuffing her generosity?" Shai asked, her head turned back at them.
For a moment, Omori paused long enough to think of his wording and the suspicion that may have seemed present in them. "Forgive me, I would not mean it that way. I just wonder if there's something else that you were hoping to discuss?" He revised.
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