A Fine Line

[Saint Anne]

It has always been argued- weather or not people, humans or otherwise, should know how they would die. Some say yes; that they would like to take precaution. Others say no, claiming it would take the fun out of it.

Often it is persons in power who have the strongest desire to know how they will die. They hope to cheat death. And yet repeatedly the inevitable happens... Death always arrives, if only sooner rather than later. The Gift of Foresight is often accompanied by the curse of karma.

Shocking how ignorant mortals can be about such things.


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Tates sat still, bound in chains and gagged. Around the world he had been a renowned seer, or sooth-teller for those who rather a more biblical term. [Ironic considering what he himself was] Creatures and people alike sought him out in order for their dreams to be interpreted- for their fears to be disproved or confirmed.

Naturally it only was a matter of time before he answered to the wrong person. A great warlord asked him a simple question. 'How will my life end?'. Tates response had sent his own life spiraling downwards.

"The child of your sister will rebel and overthrow you." The result was the murder of the mans nephew. And his sister.

Two weeks later- his niece claimed that seer had lied in order to get back at the lords sister for an old grudge he held- claiming that her mother had attempted to trick him and so he played back though the family.

Outraged- the War Lord arranged for Tates to be brought to his home- bound and silenced.

Have you spotted the error the Lord made? A plot hole perhaps? Why had he not slain his niece?

The answer was simple. She served as a maid for the Lord, and he had no idea that she was indeed related to him.....


Tates coughed in the damp cellar, sighing in frustration. He turned his head, using his shoulder to wipe the drool off the corner of his lips. They kept him gagged- and bound in chains forged by a holy man. Blessed sutras stuck to the walls of the cell, and the carvings on his gag burnt his tongue.

He could still see the uprising in his mind vividly as the day he foretold its happening. More detailed now.... with him in the midst of it all.


[OOC: I need a niece to come and free him- use him like a slave so she can plan to kill her uncle.]

 

[Pattern]

(Refer to this for character appearance)

The winding stairs leading up to the lord's chambers was one of the many places she was very much familiar with, both in past and present. Her steps varied from a regular pace to momentary skips, reminding her of happier times.

She remembered racing up the steps with her brother, huffing and panting towards the last set of stairs, only to see her brother standing tall and proud at the top of it all. He was always better than her. Handsome, strong, reliable and ambitious; those would be the words she would use to describe him, mostly out of envy. But he loved her dearly. And as envious as she was of his traits, she still loved him. He would always be there by her side when she needed a shoulder to cry on, or when she needed him to kill a cockroach that terrorised her in the dead of the night; he was always there when she needed her.

Even unto his death, she thought bitterly.

"It's your turn to get the lord's dinner to him tonight, Ash," the head palace-maid told her not too long ago, "Make sure you get it there in one piece. Any more spills and it's off to the kitchen with you."

After what seemed like an endless climb, she finally reached the door to the lord's chambers. She felt herself tremble, to the point where she almost felt the tray of food slip out of her hands...

"--a queen."

...but she caught it. This time, with a firmer grip.

A soft rap on the door. A call to beckon her in.

As Ash stepped in, she found herself facing the back of a high chair. From the side of the chair, a hand with jewelled rings adorning its finger, waved her in.

"Leave it by the table," a familiar male voice spoke out from the chair. She could not see him from where she was, but she knew who it was.

She did so, as commanded, and left it on the table near the chair. Once again, the same jewelled hand waved her away. As she turned to leave--

"Girl," he spoke.

The trembles returned, but she held her ground; "Yes, my lord?"

A moment passed. Two heartbeats. Three. Her back was still to his chair when she heard the shifting of cloths behind her, and later, footsteps. It grew closer and closer, till she could feel someone's presence behind her. She almost shuddered when she felt his breath down her neck, as though taking in her scent.

"Wear something nicer next time," and with that, he walked away.

Two heartbeats.

She left his chambers without a word.

- - -​

What the hell am I doing?

She was running down the stairs, faltering at every step she took. That was too close, much too close for comfort. Had he gone any further than that, she would have killed him right then and there. She was prepared, dagger hidden in the folds of her skirt, but she did not strike him.

"...a queen."

It has been like this since the time she had to hide away, watching her mother killed by his men. They went after her brother too not long after that. He was strong, but not strong enough against an ambush. Oh, Aedan, if only you were smarter and stronger, she always thought when she saw them cut him down. Ash had cried for days, wandering the forest like the lost pup she was,

until there was nothing left in her.

"...queen."

And all this because a bloody fortune teller spooked the man they called lord now.

Her wanderings in the forest eventually led her back to the palace again. Every time she returned to the forest to disappear, she would always find herself at the palace walls. It was like an endless nightmare, doomed to repeat itself over and over. Sensing her escape futile, she chose to dwell in this nightmare, without a care in the world.

No. No more.

"...queen."

Ash came to a halt, eventually realising that she was outside of the palace, but not quite past the palace gates. To her right, the door to the dungeon stood there, ajar, as though inviting her in. Accepting its invitation, she stepped in, quietly walking past the sleeping guards. She felt something beckoning her to go deeper and deeper into this gloomy place, until she reached the last cell.

She heard the rattling of chains from this cell she stood at, adorned (ironically) with the blessed sutras, the holy words of the Absolute One. Within that cell, Ash was able to make out a figure huddled miserably in the corner.

"Remember, Aisling."

The huddled figure, contained in a cell of holy words. There was no mistake; this was the cell of the man who sentenced her family to death.

"Sooth-teller Tates," she said, slowly approaching the bars to get a closer look.

"Remember."

"So, you're still alive," Ash continued, a mocking grin slowly forming on her face, "You miserable piece of shit,"

"You will be queen someday."


((Sorry if the post was too long. I can be a little delirious at this hour.))

 

[Saint Anne]

OOC: It's fine. ^_^ Sorry my post will be short-- but he can't very well speak lol.

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The man in the corner of the cell didn't move at first. For a moment-- she might have thought a rat rattled his chains and that he was, in fact, dead.

That is, until he raised his head-- his golden eyes glowing in the darkness.

His back cracked as he straightened up where he sat, though other than that, he made no movement. He kept two eyes glues on the woman-- a thick cloth headband covering his forehead, covered in more scribbles and blessings.

Finally, the girl who had filled his dreams opted to show her face.

 

[Pattern]

Ash met his gold eyes, facing him head on. The grin she had slowly disappeared, replaced with something a little more menacing. Perhaps sometime in the past, she would have run and hide from such a person, unable to face what would eventually come to be had she stayed. But on the day she realised she was only going in circles the farther she ran from the truth, she knew there was no other choice in the matter.

"I thought they were going to kill you when I spread the word," she spoke, her voice echoing in the empty hallway of this part of the dungeon, "I thought that would be the end of it, and I'd just go on living. With whatever's that left,"

"Remember you will be queen, Aisling."

"But with the voice of my mother haunting my mind every second of the way, I just can't do that. I can't just let it be, you know?" she grabbed the bars of the cell, leaning forward, "And now that you're here, every bloody force in the world will be here, at this very moment, trying to tell me that this was meant to be. As though all that has happened before was for this."

She hated him, for taking away her mother, for the death of her Aedan, for destroying the peaceful life she once had; and what was it all for? A prophecy? Some fortune-teller's hogwash belief that he could see the future?

Ash broke away from his stare, and slowly slumped to her knees, "Why? Why did you have to do this? What do you want from me?" she felt a heavy lump in her chest, wanting so badly to release itself through her in the most miserable way possible. But she held back, biting her lips and shutting her eyes as tightly as possible to will it away. She felt very small, so tempted to break down and give up. All the memories came flooding back to her mind; her mother, Aedan. And all she could do was watch them as they cut him up into pieces, as they tore her mother's bloody dress and--

"--Queen Aisling."

And just like that, it was gone. That heavy lump suddenly dissolved into nothing when the words came to her mind.

But before she could say anything further, she heard voices above them, and then, footsteps accompanied by the clanking of armours: guards.

She turned back to the sooth-teller, glaring at him for a brief moment before turning away. Her hands reached for the small dagger she had hidden amidst the folds of her skirt. Had he sat any closer, within her reach, she would have killed him there and then. But for some reason, she felt that it would not end the cycle. Ash took the dagger out...

...and shoved it to Sooth-teller Tates.

"I demand answers the next time I see you, be it here or anywhere else."

And with that, she was gone.

 

[Saint Anne]

Tates shifted slightly, covering the small blade with his foot. He brought it close, dragging it, then recrossed his legs, resting his chin back onto his chest-- all the while, a small smirk playing at his lips-- no matter how badly it burnt.

The guards came, checked to see he was still there, then left.

Fools, the lot of them.

He waited for their foot steps to die away before making his move. A simple maneuver with the blade got it into his hands-- freeing them from their binds. The blessed silk might have been a tough as steel to him-- but to a blade, silk was still silk. With his hands free it was only a matter of minutes before the rest of him followed suit.

The one thing he left was the head band-- leaving it to cover his forehead for the time being.

It didn't take the devil long to escape the dungeon-- though escaping the grounds would be a different story. The Lord, being the paranoid man that he was, had wards posted around the parameter to keep him in.

Besides. He still had unfinished business to attend to within the walls...

---

It was nearing midnight when Aisling's guest arrived.

Tates stood in the corner of her room like a spook. His long hair fell to his waist, dry and broken at the ends.

He waited for the woman to notice his presence before speaking. "Ten years is a long time to be locked up in a damp cold cell."

It was less of a greeting and more of an acknowledgement. His voice was deep, rumbling like thunder yet as fluid as smoke. "I'm indebted."

 

[Pattern]

OOC: Sorry for the late reply. I've been really tired from work lately. Don't know if this reply makes any sense to you (a bit delirious and sleepy at this hour), but I'll make any edits/changes if need be when I'm more sober.

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She sighed in relief, slumping on the door.

I just freed the man that condemned my family to death. Why?

Ash could only stare at the floor of her tiny room, wondering.

"I demand answers the next time I see you, be it here or anywhere else."

She chuckled at the memory of that; "Ten years down the road, and I'm still the idiot I was back then," that heavy lump in her chest slowly returned, "Pathetic. Can't even lift a finger against my own uncle. Can't even honour that promise..."

Her mutterings continued, muffled through the sleeves of her hands as she curled herself to sleep on the cold, hard floor.

- - -​

There was a crow perched upon the branch of a tree, looking down at her with its eyes. She watched as it ruffled its feathers, perhaps preening itself at her presence. But upon closer inspection, she could see that it was actually plucking its own feathers. Yet, for every pluck it made, more grew in its place, making the crow look different each time.

Ash wanted to reach out for the strange bird, but as she did so--

"You have almost forgotten our agreement, haven't you?"

She paused; the voice, it sounded familiar. She felt it in her mind, but at the same time, it was all around her; everywhere but nowhere. "Have we met?" she asked, pulling her hand back from the perched crow, who was still plucking its feathers.

"The longer you wait, the less I feel like waiting, Medb-Aisling."

Then it hit her; the forest, the voices, and the crow. She was here, ten years ago. And it was here where she met her.

"Badb." she whispered.

The bird eventually stopped plucking its feathers, slowly turning to stare into her eyes. She could not turn away from its black, beady eyes, as it reflected a vision in her mind; a vision of red and death. Ash felt her face contort in horror at such a sight, but unable to scream it away.

- - -​

She blinked, finding herself staring into another person's eyes. No longer the black pools of the crow's but gold and familiar. And just like that, he was there, standing at the corner of her room.

"Ten years is a long time to be locked up in a damp cold cell."

Ash blinked again.

"I'm indebted."

Instinctively, she reached for her non-existent dagger among the folds of her skirt. But it was only then she realised that she had given it to him. And here he stands, in her room, perhaps with that dagger or something worse.

Paranoia slowly crept into her mind; "W-what are you doing here?!" she stammered, trying to form more questions. What do you want from me? Are you going to kill me? Are you going to kill the lord of this palace? Why are you here?

But all that came out from her was a mere "How did you know I was here?" in a voice strangled with fear, distress and curiosity.