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Post by Joliette Thorne on Apr 27, 2008 5:29:04 GMT -5
Arysel circles the island. The hawk that has become quite the companion flies with the avian, keeping a sharp eye out on his little mistress. Coming closer to the beach, Arysel wonders if tonight will be the night that Tenebrae snaps out of whatever low she's in and decides to return home. Sharp eyes wander the crooks and crevices of the island below, searching out any sign of the woman. It wasn't long before she spied a figure on the beach, and being that other than the Orc and pigmy’s, Tenebrae was the only occupant, Arysel decided to land on that same beach, "Tenebrae! Here you are. Are you ready to leave then?" The last question had become rather automatic, having asked it everytime she came to the island.
Tenebrae was on the path down from the summit, her thoughts as tangled as the jungle vines around her. Silent as she could be and sequestered from easy sight in her pall of shadows, she would remain unmolested by the hostile Pygmies, who feared the falling darkness. The other jungle creatures were more difficult to avoid but the vampiress had become somewhat familiar with their sounds and perils, and so slipped neatly through the jaws of danger and at last stepped out onto the beach. As the last rays of sun fell to a dim glow of grey across the horizon, she'd hear Arysel's clear voice ringing sweetly. Her call was closely followed by another, reverberating from the marshes to the east; a great rumble of a sound that would leave no doubts its owner was somewhat annoyed. "WOMAN!" It seemed Ary wasn't the only one looking for Tenebrae. The vampiress winced. She'd left the orc a sort of pictographic "note" in the sand, the only way she had to tell him where she'd gone. Clearly, either gulls or wind had obscured it. Hurrying, Tene now caught sight of the whiteness of wings, the less visible avian beneath, and hurried to her side. "Ary." She'd offer her a smile. "I think I'm trouble." But her tone spoke not of fear.
Arysel returns the smile readily and shakes her head, "Of course you're trouble, but if your -in- trouble perhaps now is the time to leave this sanctuary" Standing, the shadow of a large bird passes, faint from the light of the moon above.
Tenebrae let out a sigh and eyed the avian wryly. "I think you might be right." Her gaze lifted toward the eastern trail, from whence emerged Gomrak through the mangroves, the corpse of some lengthy serpentine creature slung across his broad shoulders. The orc, she saw, even in the dim light, was glowering. Tene offered him a little wave. "Let me say goodbye to him, first..." As the orc neared, dumping his slack anaconda-tailed burden to the sand, he'd grunt a few short phrases in his native language. Tene stepped toward her marker, pointing-- but the shells were awry, skewed toward the sandy marshes. "Oh... " An apologetic shrug, and she'd close the gap between herself and her scar-featured saviour. There was no point mincing words, especially with him. "Woman go home." The orc glanced toward the hut. Tene shook her head, pointed out across the sea, her features pained. "Home." Drawing a deep lungful of air, Gomrak grew very still, his breath released in a foetid rush. Then he simply turned his back on the vampiress and trudged slowly back the way he'd come, rapidly disappearing into the mangroves that encroached the easterly shore.
Tenebrae said to Arysel, "Shall we?"
Arysel said to Tenebrae, "We shall I guess. He seems rather sad." humming a familiar tune, a slight tingle might be felt as Tenebrae lost weight the quick way. "I could carry you as before, or you could ride Balthan." A gesture is given, pointing upwards at the circling dire hawk. He was just strong enough, and large enough for the vampire to cling to if she chose. "I don't think he'd mind actually."
Tenebrae gave a last long look in Gomrak's direction, as Ary spoke. At mention of the hawk, she'd glance up, then back to Arysel dubiously. "Uh." Well, it sounded like a plan. But Tene was a vampire, not so comfortable in the skies as one born winged, and hated being more than a few feet from solid ground at the best of times. What, with her habit of falling, and all. "I'm not sure about..." Eyes travelled back the hawk's way. "I've never ridden a ..."
Arysel looking up, Arysel lets out a whistle, or what would seem like a whistle and the hawk answers back, coming to land not too far from the women, "He has feathers you can hold with your hands, and yes, a sort of saddle." Rummaging through the satchel, Ary pulls out a wadded up bit of leather,” It’s light, so he can still fly." Slipping it around the hawk, she'd tighten the girth and check to be sure it won't slip on the silky feathers. "Do you trust me, Tene?"
Tenebrae didn't hesitate to answer in the affirmative, watching the hawk's tack being fitted with great interest. "Of course." The bird was.. enormous. Well, large enough to carry a small woman lightened further with Ary's special brand of magic. "How could I not, after all you've done for me?"
Arysel nods and holds out a hand for Tenebrae, "Then, shall we begin our next adventure?" As the vampire approaches, a few soft words in a foreign tongue are spoken to the hawk. Slowly he lowers, his large, platter size eyes blink as he coos softly back to Arysel. "Just like riding a horse, only with wings."
Tenebrae arced a brow, and tried very hard to think of it that way. "Oh... just a second!" Smiling apologetically, she made a dash for Gomrak's hut -- or as much of a dash as one can make when only half one's normal weight -- appearing from it moments later with a worn hessian sack in her hands. She returned to Ary and Balthan, peering at the bird's large eyes as though to check for approval before fitting herself to its saddle. It certainly was comfortable, though feathers tickled her bare legs. "I must really look a fright." Tene needed something to worry about other than the prospect of an impromptu skydive into the sea, or what she might face back at home. A handful of feathers was clutched tightly in her fist, a short nod given the avian. "When you're ready."
Arysel decides it best not to give too much of a warning as she crouches down and spreads her wings to their full span of ten or so feet from tip to tip. Springing upwards, the hawk would follow, not bothered by the saddle or the near non-existent weight of Tenebrae as he follows his mistress to the air. Taking the ascent in small circles, Ary gradually rises above the island and wings towards the mainland.
Tenebrae 's stomach lurched as the great bird's claws left the sand, her skin buffeted with the strong wind created by its beating wings as Balthan took to the air after Arysel. That handful of feathers was clutched as tightly as her eyes were scrunched closed as they gained gradual altitude. She'd risk peeking, then, one eye cracking open to catch a glimpse of blackening sea and late evening sky, before it was firmly shut once more.
Arysel starts that circling thing again, being sure it's safe to land. Glancing over at the hawk and passenger, Arysel grins at the hunched and tense figure on his back. Slowly the decent is made, gradually, the ground meets the feet of both avian and hawk who ruffles the feathers to smooth then. The hawk more so since he's covered with them. "We've landed Tene. Just to give you a rest. Do you wish to fly to your home, or walk from here?"
Tenebrae had been aware their descent, having discovered her courage at last and opened her eyes for the last leg - or was that 'wing'? -- of the trip. Things certainly looked different from up there... Giving the huge hawk a friendly pat, she dismounted and nodded to Ary. "I might just walk." As pleasant as the journey had been, and all, she was glad to have her feet firmly back on the ground. Still rather buoyant, she bounced on her toes lightly. "Thanks, pet. I owe you one." As she looked to the west, Vailkrin-ward, her face set to a less cheerful mien. "'S'pose I might have been missed, a little." The statement was a sonic wince. "It's time I set things straight. Come by the pub, later?"
Arysel nods, "Of course, I still have to audition for you. Of course, " A wave of her hand sends the hawk soaring for parts unknown, perhaps to hunt. "If you like, I can just come with you."
Tenebrae said, "Don't mind walking?" She'd point to her feet. "Bit of a twinkletoes, still. Does it take long to wear off?"
Arysel blinks, incomprehending for a moment then remembered the song-spell that she'd cast. "Oh. Sorry." Clearing her throat, Arysel hums a few bars of something soft and rather complicated, the tones a counterpoint to what had been sung before. "No, actually, walking gives me a bit of a break from flying. Wings do get tired."
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Post by Joliette Thorne on Apr 27, 2008 5:29:35 GMT -5
-- Kelay Tavern--
Tenebrae pushed the door open a crack, wind and sun-chapped nose and one peridot eye all that would be seen of her, were anyone to glance her way. She'd have avoided the tavern altogether, were she not so horribly exhausted, but even the stale waft of secondhand breath, body odour and old alcohol smelled good to the woman who had just spent a week on an island with little company and absolutely no whisky. So, she stepped in, straightening her posture so that her dishevelled and barefoot state might seem less undignified, and strolled in at a casual gate, destination the bar.
Britta eyes the female in the red dress, sensing familiarity as the woman threatens Mesthak before taking a sip of her drink. Unsure if the woman was Tenebrae or not, she bites her lower lip and quickly glances away, not wanting to embarrass herself by speaking with the wrong person.
Bathelemy said to Tenebrae, "I'd recognize that voice miles away, though I do have to admit you look a bit... different from when I saw you last."
Tenebrae sucked the shot back in a single gulp, grasping the dwarven keeper's arm as he attempted to remove the bottle. With a hard stare, Mesthak set it down on the bar. "Put it on my tab..." Tene's voice was cracked with tiredness and harsh sea winds. That she did not actually have a "tab" as such was not something the dwarf judged expedient to raise. Shrugging, he wrote a brief note with a pencil stub, and hurried off to serve less truculent patrons.
Tenebrae did not move, but only slid her gaze Bathelemy's way briefly, turning it back to her next shot before she'd speak again. "Gods, it's you. I thought you were dead."
Bathelemy laughs heartily, a thing he had not done even in his previous stay in Hollow, "I thought you knew better than that, m'lady, for there would be banners and parades celebrating my death!" He seems to have acquired a theatrical sarcasm in his absence, not to mention a slightly cocky demeanour.
Britta glances sideways at Rheven, sighing and giving in to his sad eyes. Rising from her chair, she slides onto her fiancé’s lap.
Tenebrae nose-laughed, and took another deep sip before replying to Bathelemy. "Still full of yourself, I see." The vampiress' fingers shook slightly as she put the glass back down, grabbing up the bottle to refill it immediately.
Rheven wraps an arm around Britta once more, giving her a reassuring kiss upon the cheek. "There's nothing to fret over, dear."
Britta nods solemnly, sparkling blue eyes gazing lovingly into his. "All right, love."
Bathelemy would grin slightly as those ever-observant eyes would catch a hint of her fingers trembling, and even though the possibility that she was scared of him entered his mind first, he rather assumed that it had some relation to her newest appearance. His voice took on the tone of an actor as well as his words eloquently slid off of his tongue, "And what is life without security, dear lady? Is it not better to die a fulfilling death than to live an unfulfilling life?"
Britta clears her throat and beckons for Nancy to near their table, slipping a note into the woman’s hand and telling her to deliver it to Tenebrae. Upon opening the note, Tenebrae would be greeted with the following words: ~The cabal was worried about your whereabouts, we're all relieved to see your return. Love, Britta~
Tenebrae said to Bathelemy, "Flap your lips at somebody else. I'm quite tired."
Nasurate enters the tavern and, as usual heads straight towards the bar, making his way inbetween tables and chairs, the tail of his robes swaying slightly as he walks. Once at the bar, the Elf flashes Nancy his most charming smile and, after a brief exchange with the barmaid, has managed to secure himself a free ale. Nasurate sips his drink, casting his gaze over the other occupants of the tavern.
Tenebrae would assume the note was from the annoying illusionist, and stick it under her glass, unread, for a coaster. Perhaps Britta might need to take a more direct approach with the grouchy vampiress.
Bathelemy said to Tenebrae , "And I receive not even a simple hello?"
Tenebrae said to Bathelemy, "Simple for the simple: Hello." She swigged her whisky again. "Now, leave me alone."
Britta frowns as Tenebrae doesn't bother to read her note, the woman shyly sliding from Rheven's lap and smoothing her corset over her slender stomach. Inching closer to Tenebrae, she'd hesitate, unsure if the woman would know her or even like her. Tapping the vampiress gently on the shoulder, she offered the woman her warmest smile, eyes radiating kindness. "Hello, Miss Tenebrae..." She states, voice even before she swallows, exchanging a brief glance with Bathelemy. "I'm new to the Cabal, and I thought I'd come over here and introduce myself...I hope I'm not disturbing you."
Rheven said to Bathelemy, "Can you not tell she is not truly in a very cheerful mood? Not that she ever really was.."
Dezerae wanders over to the bar quietly, taking notice of the woman who'd given her a 'job'. The feline doesn't sit near the vampress, infect she dits to far to begin a conversation. She pulls something out from her pouch, a small object and attempts to roll it toward Tenebrae, as if it were a way of a game. The object was not as good as a pickled eye, nor was it very..rollish. But it was just as good.
Bathelemy said to Rheven, "In your latter statement, you steal the words from my lips. Her greetings could use a bit of enthusiasm as well! He doesn't seem very serious.
Isen makes his way into the crowded tavern, immediately settling in an isolated seat, his back to the wall. His eyes flick over the assembled patronage, noting those faces that he recognized, and lingering for a moment on Tenebrae.
Tenebrae cleared her throat with a slight hurrumph, eyes shifting to the sound of the female voice that was vaguely familiar from somewhere... Ah, yes, Rheven's new girl. New to the wha.. "New to... " She swivelled in her chair to face Britta, and blinked slowly. "I don't know you from soap. How'd you become Cabal?"
Britta stammers her words, stepping back several steps and evening her gaze on Tene's. "Kasyr let me in, as an honorary member. At least until you returned...Shall I leave?" Uncertain of what to do, the woman stands firmly in place.
Tenebrae bent to scoop up the rolling object, ignoring the slight lint it gathered on its journey, and took a large bite out of it. Dezerae was given a nod, and the flicker of a grin, minute as it was, and on a mouth filled with bakery produce.
Rheven glances from Britta to Tenebrae then back again, whispering into his lover's ear once more.
Tenebrae stared at Britta a long while, as she finished munching the brownie.
Bathelemy glances over to Britta as she stumbles over the words she offers to Tenebrae, and it becomes quite clear that he does not hold her in such august as she, but a name she says does seem to ring within his mind: Kasyr. Though it does little else but ring the bell of familiarity, he does ponder on this name a moment before looking over Rheven and Britta more closely.
Britta continues to stare at Tenebrae, awaiting a response. Noticing the chocolatey debris that gathered at Tene's chin, she focuses on a clean napkin, the object swirling in the air and wiping at Tenebrae's mouth. Syrus appears out of nowhere, with a magical aura surrounding him.
Dezerae decides to join the woman in her meal, taking out a fudge for herself and begins picking at it.
Tenebrae said to Britta, "Tell me, what service you have paid my clan."
Britta said to Tenebrae , "Telekinesis...And I'm to be the Queen of Venturil, a worthy ally."
Tenebrae ignored the intrusive napiery, utterly, and blinked. "I don't care if you're the Queen of... the World, with magical armpits. I want to know what service you have provided my clan, to warrant you being in it as you are."
Britta spots Bathelemy eyeing her, the woman standing straighter and narrowing her sapphire gaze on the male. "Can I help you?" she murmurs.
Tenebrae sighed raggedly, the wear of the past weeks showing in the sallowness of her skin, and the wild state of usually smooth hair. Perhaps coming to Kelay so soon was not the wisest choice.
Britta furrows her brows, uncertain of Tenebrae's question. Shifting her weight to the other foot, she crosses her arms and eyes the vampiress closely. "I offer friendship, protection, and wisdom to all of the members. I'm rather skilled in the arts of dark magik, swordplay, and of course telekinesis. Is there anything else you think I should offer?"
Bathelemy bore a vicious grin on his face that would instantly tell those around him that he had been planning a witty response to that question quite a while in advance, and he does indeed respond to Britta's question in his theatrical tone, "I do not think your lover would appreciate that very much, so I will have to pass."
Tenebrae shook her head slowly, and spoke with a like speed. "No... I am not asking what you would or could offer. I am asking what service you have rendered, already."
Britta smirks, regretting it the moment she had done so. Clearing her throat, she pretends to be offended and lightly rolls her eyes, turning her back to the rude male.
Britta shakes her head, lowering her gaze. "Nothing...I was only admitted to the clan two evenings ago...We were all awaiting your return."
Bathelemy does not seem to mind having someone turn their back to him, and he instead focuses his attention to the second of the pair he's seen: Rheven. His tone has lost its humorous touch and has returned to its usual indoor speaking volume, "So tell me, what is the latest Hollow-shattering development?" Rheven glances at Bathelemy, raising a snowy brow. "Very little. I do not come out into public as often as I did, this land and its people disgust me for the most part. I have begun a...gathering of sorts, but for now my plans are on hold."
Tenebrae nodded, using the back of her hand to swipe off a last crumb from her lips, chugging back the last of the bottle before replying. "You can be Cabal when you act like one long enough for us to forget that you are not." Tene sounded extremely wearied. "That's how it works. Not .. willy-nilly and find out later."
Caedan is a shadow on the stairwell and then a waif making her way towards Tenebrae where she assumes a unobtrusive stance at arm's reach while the eavesdropping rafters earn a scathing glare and her most fixed attention.
Britta clears her throat, nodding in return. "Thank you...For giving me a chance." Pausing, she collects her thoughts for a moment, gaze lingering on Rheven. "How should a Cabal act?"
Caedan said to Britta, "Crazy seems to work for most of us." Caedan coughs.
Tenebrae shuddered slightly, and would have pulled her cape about her shoulders were she still wearing it. Turning toward the direction from whence the draft -- she assumed it was a draft -- came, her eyes alit on the psychic. "Sight for sore..." It was too much, too soon. Caedan was given the best smile she could muster, though. "Ello, pet."
Britta said to Caedan, "*Chuckles* Then...I guess I shouldn't have too much of a problem."
Bathelemy does not seem surprised by these developments, and his sigh of utter boredom clearly displays this feeling. He runs a hand through his dark brown hair and responds once more, "I can see you yourself have not changed much at all either. You should change your perspective on the people... instead of disgusting, think of them as field mice to be experimented on."
Rheven said to Bathelemy, "I cannot. Any amusement has been burned away."
Tenebrae swivelled back to Britta. "If you don't figure it out yourself, you have no business being one of us." Caedan was shot a glance, but there was something of amusement in it. She couldn't argue on that point...
Bathelemy said to Rheven, "Then what are you planning? I figure that nothing is worth planning unless it is at least mildly amusing."
Rheven said to Bathelemy, "That is not for everyone to hear."
Britta winces at Tene's words, the woman wondering why she was being treated so harshly. Not wanting to show her soft side, she nods in response. "You'll find that I'm rather perceptive and quick to learn..." She mutters, ordering a whisky for herself and Tenebrae.
Bathelemy said to Britta, "Oh, do not mind Tenebrae, she becomes cranky when she does not have her nap."
Rheven cuts a glance at Tenebrae, having grown weary of her tone. "You should consider being more welcome. The tiefling let her in, no? Either you trust his judgement or you don't."
Bathelemy said to Rheven, "Fair enough, but you can surely tell me if it is amusing?"
Tenebrae had no reply for Britta but the briefest nod, having noted the wince. She'd accept a whisky, though. The island had taken a dire toll on her, and not only physically.
Caedan slowly pulls her stare from the rafters to alight on Tenebrae, as if just noticing her presence. Emotionless features soak her in like a sponge, as if every nuance of difference is being catalogued and stored away for safekeeping. The smile extended her direction did not earn the vampiress one of her own, but Caedan accepts the gesture by extending a hand to hover just over Tenebrae's shoulder until eventually it falls to gently, ever so gently stroke through locks of obsidian that seem out of place and not pristinely groomed.
Britta nods to Tenebrae, leaving the woman’s side at once and taking her whisky with her. Bathelemy was graced with an amused smile, the woman winking his way. "You're rather quick with words, are you not?" She'd muster, before slipping onto Rheven's lap.
Tenebrae said to Rheven, "Run your people your way. I will deal with mine as I see fit. If I shall have you leaping to defend this girl like a swanny princess every time I'm not cheerful enough in her direction, you can keep her and be done with it."
Bathelemy would grin at the words Britta had granted him, responding in that theatrical tone once more, "I speak what I see, the only quickness about me is the eye that sees it all."
Rheven said to Tenebrae , " Have I done such a thing? I am saying you should appreciate what so few have the interest in your Cabal at all these days. Don't get rude with me, Tenebrae, it is not worth it."
Britta allows the whisky to linger on her tongue, growing ever amused at Bathelemy and his antics. "Hmm...And what are you seeing at the moment?"
Britta said to Rheven, "Don't be harsh with her, regardless if she's being rude or not, she's still the leader of the Cabal."
Caedan said to Rheven, "You contradict yourself. For your own lover has interest enough in us. Why belittle that which she so craves to be a part of?"
Dezerae feels Tenebrae is cranky because she needs another brownie. But she keeps the thought to herself.
Rheven said to Caedan, "There is nothing contradictory about my words, it is her interest to be Cabal, not mine."
Britta narrows her gaze at Rheven, sighing. "I want to be part of a family...Is that so bad? You can't provide me with one, due to...Well..." Sighing, she glances away, shoulders slumped in shame.
Tenebrae didn't give in and release the deep sigh of relief that came with Caedan's attention. She'd been too long from home and clan. Her voice was low. "I'm off to the Corpse, in a moment. I am .. in need of rest."
Caedan said to Rheven, "But as her mate, you should take interest in her interests. I've watched enough couplings to know the functional ones from the dysfunctional ones. You should support her."
Britta exchanges a faint smile with Caedan. "Thanks, dear."
Caedan said to Tenebrae, "You can sleep in my bed if you want. I've kept the cage door open, just in case." Caedan meant that from the heart.
Bathelemy would consider the question Britta had sent his way for a moment, or at least he would appear to consider it. However, it is certain that after a moment of this, he would respond in a rather matter-of-fact tone, "I see a cranky lady who hasn't had her nap, a polite lady who thinks it best to leave the cranky lady be, and a white-headed man with plans as amusing as a doorstop."
Tenebrae did not reply to Rheven. Men were always fuddled by love. She'd treat Britta no differently to any other unproven stranger.
Rheven said to Caedan, "I already know of the Cabal from the outside. There is no more interest to be taken in it. Whether I approve or disapprove is irrelevant; I don't control her."
Britta bursts into a fit of laughter at Bathelemy's comment, covering her mouth and trying to stifle the giggles that couldn't have possibly erupted at a worse time. "Mmm...You're very perceptive indeed."
Tenebrae nodded to Caedan, rising somewhat unsteadily from her seat. She'd give the girl a moment to untangle hair from fingers, before padding toward the door, her bare feet scuffing softly on the boards. None of the rest were given so much as a final look. Bed sounded all too good, right now.
Caedan said to Rheven, "If you know us only from the outside, then you do not know us at all. You don't control her, you love her. Or should. Of course, unless you are just using her for relations of the flesh, in which case I don't blame you for not caring."
---Hanging Corpse Tavern --
Caedan is likely just a few paces behind the vampiress, content to find her own way to the pub she once called home, and that seems rather abandoned upon entry.
Tenebrae's dismay on entering the pub that did not seem like hers now, would not be evident to Caedan. For by the time the psychic entered that space, Tene was curled in a chair-- noticeably not the one she'd shredded -- by the fire, whisky in hand, head nodding slightly and her eyes half-closed. "Stupid people..."
Caedan has had a peek under the piano, just because someone is always under there, and is now making a beeline for the bar where Steadman is eyed and fussed at until he goes to heat a glass of milk. The psychic climbs atop a stool, then the bar, and stretches out, gaze settling once more upon rafters that seem slightly less noisy. "Stupid people," she echoes, mimicking pitch and inflection perfectly while eventually collecting the glass of milk tentatively laid by her head. A bottle of whisky is pilfered as she rises and pads towards Tenebrae, which is set down at her side. The teen sits cross-legged upon the mantle and nurses her glass of milk while crystal-clear eyes alight on the woman opposite her, expectantly ... yet without expectation.
Tenebrae said to Caedan, "I saw you..." She offered no further explanation of what might have been a cryptic comment, more from sheer exhaustion than any desire to obfuscate meaning. The stolen bottle was retrieved, to be nursed against her belly while she took a long swig from the other, likewise swiped from the bar. Speaking of that moment raised too the visage that had floated before her, like food and wine to Tantalus. Tene went to speak again, but the words caught in her throat. "I saw..."
Caedan beams, gesturing excitedly with her hands as Tene trails off. "Oh! I saw him too. But I couldn't find Jack. I looked through your head, but no trace of him anywhere. Why'd you go away? We all just floated along, living lives. And you weren't here. We were living lives around you, without you. And Jack. For the life of me, I don't know where he's gone off to." The twinge of excitement in her tone seems to hold a very real potential for malicious design. "Well. He's gone now. Most of 'em. Sucked right into the black, likely. Stupid thing. Such a spiteful glass of water. No. That's not right. Bigger glass. Half-full, but never empty. Always shrieking like the flowers." She stirs uneasily and reaches for her milk, taking long, agitated gulps to emphasize her vague points.
Bathelemy does not simply saunter into the Corpse, but rather skirts across the walls to a table as Caedan or Tenebrae would be used to him doing. He was not trying to sneak, but it was rather apparent that he had a certain foreboding about the middle of the room.
Tenebrae winced on mention of Jack, the dog's loss felt every bit as keenly as the rogue's. But at mention of the Pool, she'd sit forward, tired eyes stretching open to cast a sharpish stare at Caedan. "Not found in the lands of the living." Tene recited, seeming to have caught the other woman's excitement. "Nor those of the dead. Caedan.. what if he went.. you know." She gesticulated toward Gualon. Tene seemed more awake, suddenly. "What if.. but he knew to be cautious. He knew too well how dangerous it is." The vampiress frowned. "But.. that would make sense of it. Wouldn't it?" She was past using rhetoric on the girl, who always seemed to catch the nuances of her meaning like a child netting butterflies.
Tenebrae did not notice Bathelemy's entrance, too tired and now focussed on Caedan for usually sharp senses to note his motions.
Bathelemy had limited knowledge of the Obsidian Pool that Tenebrae spoke of, but from the sounds of it, it had claimed either a man or a dog that he had recalled being called Jack previously. This, of course, leads questions to penetrate Bathe'lemy's mind in regards to the location of the owner of said dog. He does not interrupt with a witty addendum or sarcastic phrase, he merely leans against the wall and listens. No doubt Caedan would notice his entrance soon enough, as Bathe'lemy remembered well the powers of her mind.
Caedan offers some of her milk to the fire, a sacrifice for services rendered previously, or some other reason that made sense in her head, and not so much in print. The teen listens impassively to Tene's fragmented questions, answers, explanations, periodically lifting a sleeve-covered hand to bat away hair from her eyes. Eventually, after a lengthy pause has ensued, long enough to become slightly uncomfortable to anyone not used to the teen's idiosyncrasies, she responds coolly, "It takes what you need." An abrupt stop, like a bird plowing into a windowpane. "You need him. Needed. Stubborn woman, no need of anyone. But you did." A finger is jabbed at her heart, poking incessantly. Bathe'lemy's presence had been felt for some time, and she figures he is owed nothing short than acknowledgement at this juncture, by an amicable dagger loosed from her boot and flicked with a startling celerity towards the middle of his forehead.
Bathelemy couldn't honestly speak of this event later and say that an attack was wholly unexpected, but the accuracy with which the dagger is flung resulted in little need for great effort to dodge this flying blade on his part: A simple sidestep to the left, abient rather wide, proved to be sufficient to change the blade's target from is head to the wall. From there, the vampire simply saunters on his way, keeping close to the wall and eyeing the two as they continue their conversation. As of this moment, he has yet to even speak.
For a madwoman, Caedan tended to make a lot of sense. And really, Tene would grasp at any straw when it came to Leo. The Pool would certainly explain Death's lack of knowledge. "It's true. I do need him, Caed. More than life, than blood, family, anything." She chewed her already ragged lip a second, unaware of the knife being unbooted as she did so. "But what if we go.. and he is not..." The weapon left Caedan's hand like an angry wasp after a spider. Tene turned, in time to catch sight of Bathelemy's quick retreat. Yet more good sense. She was thankful once more for knowing the psychic.
Tenebrae said to Bathelemy, "Why are you creeping about like that? It's.. creepy."
Bathelemy seems to mostly ignore Tenebrae's question, though she herself receives the attention of the next words that would come forth from his lips, "Those are words I thought you would never say, dear lady. It would seem that some things do change in this land we call Hollow, hmm?" He chuckles as he walks in a slow, yet wide, circle around the two, "For I have come to reclaim what is rightfully mine. Why not visit an old friend in the meantime?"
Saphesiel had been standing in the doorway for some time, sizing up the occupants of the tavern; some he knew, some he didn't. Cowled and veiled, the drow seemed very much a ghost. As he fixed his eyes on Tenebrae, red pinpoints through the shadow of his cowl, he made to move in the woman's direction.
Caedan hmmph's at the wraith scuttling about against the wall, and keeps a keen eye on him, though the majority of her attention rests on Tenebrae. She can't understand this need; it is not an emotion she has ever felt personally. She's observed it, felt it through others, but never for herself. Her free hand stretches across the distance and hovers over the vampiress' knee, and a comforting, mimicked, "There, there," issued in effort to soothe, like a mother to a child that's skinned her knee. She's lost, unsure of how to help, except for the gentle stroking of the air above Tene's thigh.
Caedan knows how to help now.
Caedan said, "Either of you, a step closer, and you will lose what you value most, and very painfully, and not very quickly. And it will be happily, and easily done."
Bathelemy said to Caedan, "I would encourage the attempt, but there are more pressing matters at hand. If I came in malicious intent, I would be doing less speaking."
Saphesiel could be seen gazing at Caedan as he took a somewhat stewardly position behind Tenebrae. The rich fabric of his robes rippled and swayed as he brought his arms up to form a cross before his chest.
Caedan said to Bathelemy, "You haven't done very much speaking as it is. The more pressing matter you should be worrying about is the removal of your head from your shoulders."
Bathelemy said to Caedan, "You forget much about me, I have truly been gone far too long. Perhaps the haste and threats of Hollow have affected your mind as well?"
Tenebrae said, "Like I said. Creepy." She might have had something else to add, but was abruptly the focus of attention from a hooded, black-clad drow who crossed the room on silent feet, proud mien masked. Meeting his eyes only for the briefest moment, she made as if to tidy a wisp of hair from her face, fluttering her fingers as if to untangle the strand from another. Then Caedan, at a break in the banter, was given a smile, not broad with those cracked lips. "There, there. Yes, much better. Thankyou, dear. Oh, and I have something for you." She'd glance to the ragged coconut hessian bag she'd carried with her from the island, a single roundish lump evident. "Go on, look."
Caedan said to Bathelemy, "You have a silver tongue. I have not forgotten that. It will be removed first if you use it to manipulate me again. State your business. My mind is not up for discussion."
Bathelemy said to Caedan, "Ah, but my business is my own, it is not yours for discussion either. However, I am not without proper reason for being here, that much I can assure you, but I would not dare interrupt such a conversation. I will wait."
Saphesiel lifted his gloved hand to rest lightly over Tenebrae's shoulder. He might have seemed an oddity, immaculately tended robes falling off his body like so much shadow, those opaque red eyes providing all that was visible behind his facial shroud. All the same, the drow gave off the air of a nonissue, a subtle suggestion felt rather than understood.
Saphesiel whispered to you, "You know the girl. An associate of yours, or a plaything."
Caedan has an eye on Bathe'lemy, and an eye on Saphesiel, and really no eyes to spare for the bag, but her fragile mind is distracted easily enough, and like an eager child, she's all a flutter and leaning forward to gaze into the sack. Bathe'lemy is momentarily forgotten, and Saphesiel earns a suspicious glance as a voice is distinguished in her head to be not of her own origination. Switching seamlessly to the drowic tongue, she quietly threatens, "It would be unfortunate for you if you continue--" A beat, a recognition of motive causing her to pause, then drop the subject all together. His presence will be tolerated.
Saphesiel canted his head to meet Caedan's eye level, lingering his gaze over the girl.
Caedan sticks her tongue out because she cannot think of any better way to show her evident disdain without incurring physical injury.
Bathelemy would offer the light shake of his head, dark hair swaying to and fro with his head's movement. For once, there was no clandestine purpose for which he was present, and yet he was still treated as such: A fact that tickled his own judgment. Nonetheless, as he said he would, he waited. Bathe'lemy's patience was much akin to that of a mountain giant looking for an excuse to bash something in with its colossal boulders that it knows as hands, yet somehow the vampire finds it within himself to remain silent for the time being.
Tenebrae seemed much comforted by the drow's presence, a stilly calm descending on her, composure regained as though the dark elf was the sustenance her flesh badly needed. As to who he was.. no name was given, not glance upward to his stoic form, only that subtle straightening of her spine, and the vampiress crossing a hand to touch his lightly, a barely-sensed play of finger pads on his gloved skin communicating more than mere pleasure at his arrival. That done, she'd watch Caedan open the sack, a slow grin forming, despite the splitting and sting of it.
Tenebrae told Saphesiel, "She is blood, or as good as. Clan. Worth twenty of that fool over there."
Saphesiel crossed around to move in front of Tenebrae, his feet touching the floorboards so lightly that it seemed as though he might be floating. Patiently and with almost exaggerated method, he pulled a seat from under a table and slowly too position.
Caedan moves the bag possessively out of reach of Saphesiel as he approaches to sit in front of Tenebrae, and mumbles something under her breath before peering inside, and eventually reaching to fish whatever resided within out and onto her lap.
Tenebrae finally gave Bathelemy a glance, a brow raised in question. "So, what brings you back to the lands, and why are you creeping about like a cat with burned paws?"
Saphesiel placed his hands in front of him, visible above the table. Projecting his quiet stare toward Bathelemy, the drow worked his fingers in quickly forming motions; not hasty, but fluid.
Tenebrae , waiting for Bathelemy's reply, watched the drow's fingers in their intricate dance, and returned several gestures very like them, her features expressionless.
Bathelemy would only be half-paying attention when Tenebrae spoke in his direction, but it was not necessary to understand her exact words, and the illusionist understood exactly what Tenebrae was asking, though his response would seem sarcastic were he not so serious near his conclusion, "Well, I seem to have lost a precious object of mine. No ordinary sword, and I would like it back. And... I have reason to believe it is in that pool that so many of your faction speak of." He seemed all-too serious, and one might just assume that the particular katana he was after was a prize indeed, "Of course, I considered going in there myself, but I've seen the effects of its curse."
Saphesiel placed his palms flat against the table and leaned back in his chair. The drow had quickly lost interest in his vampiric focus. Instead, he observed young Caedan in her fancy, staring wordlessly as always.
Bathelemy would shake his head after he said all of this, soon after sauntering over to the door and casting a look back to Tenebrae before he speaks again, "From what I hear, you've lost someone to it and could use a small bit of help. Think about it, for I am not interested in an answer that you can come to within a few quick moments." With that, he offers Tenebrae that theatrical bow before his form dissolves into thin air, the illusionist having used a common trick in order to leave this establishment.
Caedan is attempting to make sense of the object now in her lap, and is really thinking about what a nice sack it came in, though she glances up periodically to make sure no tomfoolery is occurring in her distraction. Tenebrae seems to have everything under control, and people are not circling her anymore like a pack of vultures; anyway, her mind is inexplicably soothed by this drow whose presence seems to have an effect like a drug of some sort, though she retains enough fire to mumble audibly, "And I'm not a plaything."
Tenebrae snorted softly, rolling her eyes Bathelemy's way, and then looked to her companions. "Why on earth would his sword be in my Headquarters?" That really was rhetoric, and she wouldn't wait for an answer before a soft word escaped her lips, almost below her breath, head canted the drow's way. Her fingers said the rest.
Saphesiel rapped his fingers lightly against the table. He tilted his head to the side, backing a bit before leaning forward- the nuances of one in conversation.
Tenebrae told Saphesiel, "It's unbecoming for me to be so filthy and ragged, I am still wearing the dust of the road. I would bathe soon."
Saphesiel 's hand rose to brush against Tenebrae's arm, his silent goodbye.
Tenebrae 's lips quirked her approval, and also her farewell.
Fontoyn dourly coaxes rigid muscles to movement and edges his form around the other patrons of the tavern. Back against the wall, the human manages to reach his destination at the other end of the building.
Caedan has a skull on her lap. And she's been conducting a silent conversation with it in between exchanging mental threats and idle chatter with the drow mage across from her. "I'm sorry you were eaten," she speaks mournfully, a hand caressing the smooth, yellowed alabaster of the skull.
Caedan eyes Fontoyn and examines him as a potential source of tomfoolery. More words are exchanged with the skull placed lovingly in her lap.
Saphesiel nodded his head to Caedan and stood up from his seat, moving to follow Tenebrae.
Saphesiel broadly motioned his arm toward the surrounding tables.
Tenebrae paused, took the closest solid object.. in this case a lump of firewood from the stack beside the fire… and tossed it Steadman's way. If the barman was sleeping in his chair, it might explain the shout he gave, the clambering to his feet and Tene's unerring aim the lump on his brow the barkeep was rubbing. "Fetch the lad a drink." The surly man was sent bustling toward Fontoyn, as Tene rose from her chair. "Caedan, I must go for a bath... enjoy your gift." Somehow, Tene thought she would. Her dark elven companion was offered a gentle shift of eye toward the door, making her way to it shortly after.
Saphesiel moved to Tenebrae's side, lowering his head to her as he awaited her departure.
Caedan has a few words to exchange with the unnamed skull at this development.
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