Kaustir, Chapter 4

[unanun]

The Nocturne Masquerade​

A knock on the door.

"I was told the First General Amalia Lortik would be here."

"T-that's right!" Amalia unconsciously hugged herself, but that only made the curve from shoulder to waist to hip more noticeable. She tried to flatten the curve out by holding her arms by her side, but it pulled the dress tighter, and her arms naturally sank into the crook at waist and hip. The dress always won in the end.

The door creaked open.

... the young, waif-like Nocturne standing before her already made her self-conscious, just like the Rasbrov baroness from yesterday. A genderless beauty. "Surprised?"

"Who are you?!"

A pair of Nocturnes flowed into the room, and brought up a folding screen. An androgynous body writhed behind it.

"You don't recognize your sponsor, Amalia?" Tonight, Lut was teaching Amalia yet another thing about Nocturnes. A Nocturne cared not for forms or appearances - such things eroded in decades or less to the sands of time. Young Nocturnes quickly learned to bind their identity inward, not outward, a natural coping technique that allowed them to live far past a normal human's lifespan. "The particular form I take means nothing to me. So you must learn to distinguish a Nocturne by their unique mannerisms and habits."

"If you make an enemy tonight, it is not the old, wrinkled lady who will kill you in your sleep - but a young lady who stabs you through the heart at the water stand. Of course, we aren't shape shifters, and we are not all masters of disguise ... but a Nocturne is perfectly willing to discard their appearance in order to achieve a goal."

"Any face you see tonight will not be the same tomorrow, when we assume our 'true' faces for the rest of the Soiree. Tonight, we mingle as equals, ask questions as equals ..."

"And try not to prod the Lion in Sheep's wool. Tonight, we learn to walk on egg shells." He offered his arm.

"Let's go."​

 

[DotCom]

For all evils, there are two remedies...*​

Before, indigo

Far above the shore where she'd left Nu, Shae stood with a fire at her feet. If she let it, it would felt the sand there, heated far beyond what any normal flame could accomplish. It danced in a treacherous rainbow, writhing below her like a snake for its charmer.

Shae watched gray water return again and again to the shore, a repentant lover sent away after each gentle touch.

She wanted a new mirror. This one had betrayed her.

Thus Fate Knox

It began with a now familiar, cloying heat, the sort to reach deep inside you to scald like hot, fresh blood. It was humid, tainted with the scent of sea air. She could feel her hair matted with a moisture that made her skin crawl.

Close by, there was a moaning, whether of pleasure or of pain she could not tell. She did not know which she would have preferred.

A tell-tale flicker told of a fire staring in the darkness, places too close -- the flame could, would, should smother. It didn't. It grew to illuminate the profile of the emaciated Avian, skin pale, eyes dark as his black wings. They threw firelight back at her, eerie depthless embers into the writhing darkness.

The Avian was muttering something to the growing flame, sitting close enough it glowed against the sheen of feverish sweat. Even through the mirror, the cave stank of vomit and feces, of a worship that had moved into obsession, and desire into madness.

The flames danced higher until it seemed the Avian would burn. He plucked a feather from those that had fallen around him and held it into the flame. Smoke curled into acrid black swirls around his head, and laughter filled the cavern.

The flame grew, blinding even her, wringing all sense from the world -- smell, sight, taste, touch, hearing were all faded to those which burned brighter than fire.

It grew until there was only the laughter and the fire.

And then just the fire.

She was pulled from the image by the trembling of her hands. In the sand, a silver circle danced in a pool of liquid glass. Smoke burned her eyes.

On the beach, Nu was pulling black feathers from the surf.

Present Day, darkred

It was, all of it, irrevocably changed in a matter of hours, and there had been nothing she could do to stop it.

She recognized now she had been foolish to think she had time, or that she might have made a difference at all. Ombre hung in limp, despondent coils about her neck, poor protection for the painted Nocturnes who roamed the permanent dusk around her. There was a constant tang of iron in the air, strong enough to turn her stomach, and the heat of her new stove felt stifling tonight.

Nu was gone.

She had been gone, she supposed, from the moment Knox had died, perhaps even before, or maybe Shae was more naive than she thought, and the girl had never really been there in the first place. That she had all but given her life to see Shae into Pegulis now amounted to nothing. And the unspoken, unsatisfying goodbye Shae had tried so hard to nullify rang loud in her ears. She was back in Kaustir, in Zirako, and Nu was gone.

Shae had recognized the man she had seen just once in the mirror, and once with her own eyes. Both times, there had been blood. Shae kept her eyes on Nu as he spoke. Nu kept her eyes on the ground.

"You. Scryer." And unspoken insistence that she look. She did. There were black feathers in her hair.

"Have you foreseen my death?" She made herself look away from Nu.

"I...can only see what it shows me. I saw..." Another secret kept, another last ditch attempt to rescue this waif who had kidnapped her once. "No."

"Then come with me. Be my audience when the axe falls." He'd waved her away, and she'd gone, feeling Nu's eyes on her back. Betrayal? Or understanding?

He went on. "You would have died a long time ago if it weren't for Nu anyway."

Nu was gone.

Shae was alone, a prisoner of her own making.

And all around her, the city was twisting itself into nightmare shapes from her past.

*A.D.​

 

[UltimaCircuit]

Previous Day

K'Jol gave a nod back to Kasindel with a smile on his face, giving a quick stride to the festivities and merriment going on before them. Colored flags stopped flying and the music lost it's voice as the two burly warriors gave their gaze to the small band before them. A gulp came from the dark skinned man at the lead of the group, and an even larger grin came upon the warrior's face as he saw fear in the man's eyes. The greenscaled one flicked his right hand's index finger to the side, signaling the man to leave his drums and he did just so. U'Sil gave a his as it's Crux took a seat behind drums. Many onlookers whispered among themselves, pointing at the two who just barged in the celebration. Kasindel gave a look of confusion to K'Jol, wondering why he kick the leader of his band out of his post, but the mischievous glint in his friend's eye displayed that he was about to do something extraordinary. A loud cough came from K'Jol, making the talk of those around die down.

"Those around are probably afraid, even scared, and you should be for we both have quite the reputation. All I ask from you people today is to discard the facts you have in your minds about us -"

The sound of his hand against the drum rang out to the crowd. There was no point in complaining about the Blood Soiree anymore. Rather than fussing about the situation he now decided to indulge in the opportunity.

"and view us as equals. A grand celebration is upon us and to tell you the truth I wanted to have nothing to do with tomorrow, but SCREW IT! Why complain about something that probably won't happen for a while, right?"

Heads nodded in response, and some people even had happen expressions on their faces. His hands went against the drums before him once more, and a tambourine sounded behind him in response. The band behind him was now catching on, and started on a tune that all knew well. The dark skinned man off to the side sighed in relief as K'Jol now lead the group in song. Women in seductive dresses embraced the music, doing belly dances and sensual motions in front of Kasindel. The two began to converse in between the stops in the music.

"Ahh, so this is what you had in mind."

"Well, this put's me in a better mood about the lady who pretty much stole my money."

"Good good! At least you're not as stuck up as you used to be."

"Shut up, or I'll stop playing right here."

A laugh came from the duo as the citizens of Zirako now started to join in the dancing. One man even went as far as offering the two Kreshnik, something that both agreed to. One bottle was downed for the both of them, two, and then more afterwards.

The grand capitol of Kaustir began to become a blur.

Zirako: Day of the Soiree

A groan came from K'Jol as he looked around, seeing bottles of Kreshnik, dresses on the floor, and his friend in front of him. K'Jol pulled himself to his feet, puffing his cheeks up before running to the closest window. Puke flew out of his mouth and onto the bloodied streets below. He fell back onto the bed, gasping for air before realizing that there was no sound of gold at his side. Hands flew around, quickly searching his body for the money.

FUCK.

"You have got to be kidding me... fucking drinking... hey you... wake up..."

A low groan came from Kasindel, and he arose from the ground before repeating the same thing K'Jol did at the window.

"What the hell happened...."

"I don't even remember... but my gold is gone and there are dresses on the ground and... this whole situation is fucking... GECKO DUNG!"

"Gecko dung...?"

"Just shut up... we're going to the palace now..."

Only a nod was a response. The two headed out the door, both in sour moods. As they both arrived outside, the two finally took in the fact that blood littered the streets.

"What the hell... do you know who did this?"

"This is part of the celebration... did you not know?"

"Wow... let's just hurry to the palace quick. Maybe the others will be there."

Kasindel and K'Jol both walked down the streets and towards the large castle, their feet getting painted with blood.

"Hey... what are the floors at the actual celebration going to look like?"

​

 

[Zen]

The Act

Lut Sar's cold arms did nothing to chill Amalia's sweltering body, and without the presence of her entourage, she felt her confidence trailing behind her. Rakar, K'jol, Takeda, Arania, they would all arrive shortly after her, leaving Amalia to fend for herself. The closer they approached the double doors, the more her heart pounded, adding to her incessant fear of the Soiree.

The guards bowed, wrapped their fingers around the handles of the door and pulled.

Amalia inhaled, back rigid.

All eyes were upon her. Candle light reflected off of their pupils like water in the blazing sun, igniting her desire to flee. Her gulp must have been audible, for Lut Sar's grip on her arm tightened. Through the haze of fear, Amalia faintly heard her name and title announced to the party, but a small voice asked if that was even necessary. From the nocturnes predator like gaze, they all knew who she was.

Red drapes crisscrossed over the ceiling in the room, and doors were left ajar to let in the desert breeze; it ruffled the drapes ever so gently. A large table, adorned with crimson silks sat in the middle of the room, loaded with full goblets and an assortment of food, all made with the blood of animals and humans. However, what made Amalia's eyes pause were the lack of chairs. Were they expected to eat and talk? Or would chairs be brought out later?

Her gaze swung to the throne, but no one sat upon it. Puzzlement wrinkled her brows. Would the Czar be arriving later then?

Lut Sar took a step forward, bringing the general back to reality.

"Do you know of the nocturnes families?" He took them to the table, eyeing the selection of gelatinous cubes of blood.

"Yes. I met one of the Rasbrovs in the market a few days ago." Amalia pursed her lips. "She was the inspiration for the dress."

He glanced at her body with disinterest. "And the others?"

She exhaled, breath trembling. "The Solmyr are from Viridos, known for their humility, and the Vonsoon are from the north, known for their intelligence."

"And can you distinguish them?"

Brown eyes scanned the crowd. At first all she saw was a blur of bodies and cloth, but her mind slowly began separating them. The eloquent were the Vonsoon, those that postured solemnly were the Solmyr, and Amalia knew who the Rosbrovs were without a double take - they made their home here after all.

"Yes I can."

"Look again. I am not dressed as myself, so why would the others do the same?"

"What?"

She blinked, and returned to her assessment of the nocturnes. A headache was beginning to form from both the Soiree and her illness, but Amalia saw the subtle differences. A charming laugh that was sounded far too cynical. A tight hold on the arm of an acquaintance. A look of feigned curiosity.

"It's an act."

"Exactly my dear Amalia."

The swish of cloth and soft footfalls made them both turn.

"Ah, I thought it was you Lut Sar. My, don't you look dashing?"

Amalia's hand slithered over her neck, fingers resting in the spot where the woman's fangs pricked her skin just days before. It was the Rasbrov woman, clad in the same sort of sheer and revealing outfit in the market. Her eyes roved over Lut Sar, and rested on Amalia.

"It seems Lut Sar keeps a constant vigil over you General. If it is not his Wraiths, then it is the High Inquisitor himself."

"He cares deeply for my well being," murmured Amalia. The scene in his caravan played in her head; Amalia forced it aside.

A serene smile graced the woman's lush lips, surprising the general. She did not equate serene with the Rasbrovs. "I see you've inherited my fashion sense."

Warmth flooded her cheeks, but Amalia held her head high. "I thought it appropriate for the occasion."

"Your suitors will admire you for your boldness."

"... My suitors?"

"Were you not aware? Why, your father was flaunting your availability to practically everyone and with your standing, you've caught the attention of the nocturnes."

Nostrils flared in irritation. "Obviously not everyone has gotten the message that I am not available, nor do I wish to be."

The woman smiled crookedly to Lut Sar. "She's got fire, this one."

The High Inquisitor looked mildly surprised at Amalia's indignation. "Yes... Surprisingly."

"Who are the suitors?"

"Minor nocturnes. They would approach you if it weren't for your chaperon. Why?"

"I've half a mind to settle matters myself."

"If you wish. But nocturnes are rather persistent, and if marrying you meant bolstering their influence, they will whittle you down."

"They can certainly try."

The woman regarded Amalia with calculated silence for several seconds. "... You are rather naive aren't you?"
Amalia blinked. "My, don't you have much to learn."

"What's your name?"

"Illusion."

Amalia raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "I am not stupid."

A tinkle of laughter. "But I am an illusion, we all are. And so are you General. I know you wouldn't normally wear this dress, nor wear this much make up. You are at fault, just like the rest of us."

"But you know my name, and Lut Sar's."

"But do you know his real identity?"

"Of course I ..."

She looked at him then, Aux and Crux studying one of her many mentors since she became General. "No I don't." Amalia turned to fully face him, clips of their time together passing through her mind. There was one thing she remembered that made him uncomfortable, that made her want to pry apart with a crow bar.

Their eyes locked for mere seconds and Lut Sar knew Amalia would ask him about Nu, if not now, then later. That promise was reflected in her brown eyes.

"Of course, Lut Sar is unhoused. I am surprised he hasn't tried to pursue you General. It would help his standing and yours as well."

She cut her eyes at the High Inquisitor. "I've kept one naive notion, and that is marrying for love and not for someone else's benefit. We may have shorter life spans, but an unhappy marriage can make that life excruciating."

 

[Obskeree]

Marched to freedom

Theo was marched through streets of blood into a side entrance of a tower filled with gore and surreal opulance. It had Nocturnes dressed to impress, servants skirting the corners in studded chains, and buffets bathed in red. It had an air of disdain and pretence, joyless mirth and cruel intentions.

It was the Soiree.

But Theo had never heard of the Soiree. Whether it was the leftover shock of his accidental act of murder, or the cirucmstances that led to it, Theo found himself strangely accepting of the peculiar event, as if in a dream. Nothing felt real, and nothing stuck out as strange because it was all strange.

One of the Jackals walked behind him, and the other in front. A few Nocturnes turned as they passed, heading through the hall and into one of the side rooms. There, a gentleman stood with a number of attendants around him.

He turned to Theo and his gaze was piercing.

"Finally," the man said with a heavy exhale. He stalked briskly past the Jackals and ducked beneath Theo's horns to get right up close to his face. "Hold still."

"What -?"

"Quiet, now." He reached up to put his hands on either side of Theo's face and pushed their foreheads together. Theo had no idea what he did, but the next few moments passed in a timeless blur and left him with an almighty headache.

Then he blinked, and the man stood back with the attendants. "He's not ready yet. Let him loose."

"As you command, Glorious Czar," the Jackals said in unison, taking Theo by the arms and marching him back out into the halls.

Once they were sufficiently far from the Czar's dressing room the Jackals both vanished into lines of mystical sand which snaked their way out of the building, winding through the legs of guests and under doors.

His brain caught up with itself as he stood abandoned in the corner, watching the sand vanish from the scene - it wasn't a dream. The music and cacophony of voices he heard were real. The Nocturnes in all their finery were real. The metallic smell of blood was real.

And he was alone.

The Soiree

The shimmering diamonds on Orvak's mask were matched only by the sparkle in his eyes.

He had just excused himself from an unwanted meeting with a less noble from a Rosbrov family branch to fetch some more blood punch when he spotted someone familiar, large and lumbering in the corner of the room, with glistening horns and an awkward aura. No one could look more out of place.

"You?" he whispered. For better or worse, the 'hero' of his people would not be forgotten in his mind. The slayer of the betrayer. He approached quickly before anyone else could pounce. "Well, well, well, well, well," he began, "If it isn't the Hero Theophrrrrrrrastus."

Theo looked startled, then relieved to see him. The naivety was delicious.

"Governor Orvak," he bowed.

"What might you be doing here, hmmmmmm?"

"I've given up trying to understand."

Orvak barked out a laugh. "So humble a proclamation doesn't belong in these halls -" He gestured around them with a large, sweeping hand movement, "Do you know - you poor little bull - do you know where you are?"

"The Czar said a soiree -?" He was cut off as Orvak placed a long gloved finger across his lips.

"Shhhhhhh, now. Shh! You don't want to be announcing you've seen him today."

"No?"

"No, no, no. Let me explain a few things, in the interest of your... survival... And then you can tell me all about that Human blood on you."

The helpfulness was not out of kindness, or even pity. Theo was a pawn, and a useful one, in Dorgrad. Orvak had initialled suspected people would forget quickly but they had not. Theo's name was still occasionally mentioned and it bothered Orvak greatly that the centaur anima had gone without capitalising on the influence he'd gained.

Icons who rose up from the people were always useful, especially if they could be maniuplated as easily as this one. He might have swanned off to help the silly little General, but now Orvak had seen him again, he would be taking him back home, somehow.

 

[Tone 6th]

The Crimson Party

Both swordsman and healer exited the grey tower and into the streets. The night was filled with shouting and the sounds celebration. The smell of blood and death chocked the air.

Arania grabbed Takeda's sleeve when the sent filled her nose "Takeda... this smell... it makes me..." all of her concentration was going into resisting her blood thurst.

He grabbed hand and placed it the inside of his arm, like a gentlemen would, "Arania it's ok, relax, tonight maybe be the one night where you get to feed your urge and get away with it."

She looked at him wide eyed and confused "But what if I kill someone? Maybe we should just go back-"

"No this your night!" Takeda looked her in the eye "I will not let you kill anyone. I'm not saying loose yourself, just have fun." he smiled.

Arania gave a worried smile "O... okay. Shall we then?" she pointed to a blood vendor.

"As you will my lady." they walked as if they were a couple arm in arm.

The Nocturne was a child picking in a toy shop, though there was a dark tint in her eyes. "Your finest blood please." she nervously glanced and Takeda and he nodded. "Make it two bags, please." her was soft but commanding. The vendor tossed two bags of blood on the counter and the healer snatched them up quickly, opened them, and began to drink. Takeda cringed at the sight, at least she wasn't feeding on a bystander like most of Nocturnes seemed to be.

They both ventured deeper into the Nocturne blood feast. Hungry eyes fell upon Takeda and her knew it. Not many humans attended the Soiree unless they were extremely bold or meant to be food. A group of Nocturne women came up to the both of them.

The leader of pack of female Nocturnes approached Takeda and ran a finger under his chin "Ah look at this one ladies. A warrior and an eastern warrior at that." her voice was soft and seductive.

"Ooo I've never had eastern blood before." Another called from the back of the group.

"Tell me east man have you ever felt the touch of a Nocturne woman?" The leader moved her hand to his chest. Her eyes met with his and Takeda's mind began go blank.

Arania moved from the swordman's side and gave a loud hiss "Away with you whore!" her eyes were wild and fangs bared. The leader gave a small hiss and broke her gaze with the east man. Arania moved in to attack the the other Nocturne, but just before her hand left Takeda's arm he firmly grabbed it and put it back in place. "I'm fine Arania, there is no need to defend me." he whispered. "Good evening ladies." he gave a slight bow and took off with Arania.



"You must never look in a Nocturne woman's eyes. They will ensnare you and take your blood. Do not trust them." Arania's voice was no longer soft, but instead commanding. "But I trust you." Takeda replied. "The night isn't over yet swordsman." she gave a grim smile.

Arania continued to feed in bliss as Takeda kept a close eye on her, trying to keep her calm.

"You there human!" A Nocturne called to Takeda from a small table. The couple approached the Nocturne man "How about a game of chance?" he pointed to three cups on the table. "Find the rock and I'll match whatever you wager!" A crooked smile showed his blood stained teeth. "Very well." Takeda agreed and tossed in two gold pieces. "Very good honorable warrior." the merchant praised. He shuffled the cups with great speed "Pick" he ordered. "The left cup." Takeda pointed. The merchant picked up the cup and there it was a small grey rock "Ah and it's four gold for the brave warrior! Care to play again?" disdain laced his praises. "4 gold." the swordsman had a devilish grin on his face. The cups were shuffled even faster this time. "The center." again he pointed to the cup. It was raised and there it was a rock "Thats 8 gold for the warrior! Again?" the merchant was annoyed. "50 gold." Takeda responded and tossed a small sack on the table. "V very well." gasped the merchant. Around the cups went. "Your right hand." the swordsman responded. Utter shock and panic ran rampant over the merchant's face "100 gold for the warrior..." he trailed off. "Play again?" Takeda said with a smirk. "N NO! Please leave!" he pointed for the couple to go back to the street.

"How did you do that?" Arania spoke.

"Precision and speed is what I deal in my dear." he laughed.

The two casually walked through the bustling streets taking in what the Soiree had to offer.

"Takeda... thank you."

"For what?"

"Helping me control myself. I feel better now that I have fed."

"It is I who should be thank you Arania. You have freed me of that blasted voice, and for that I'm am deeply thankful." he smiled and she smiled back.

"OUT OF THE WAY WELPS!" rapid screaming and the sounds camel hooves broke the moment between them.

A drunk Nocturne galloped past the two and knocked Arania to the ground. Her right cheek clipped the edge of a vendor table. The cut began to ooze blood.

"Araina are you alright!" Takeda helped her to her feet.

The pain felt white hot. She touched her cheek and her blood stained hand to her eyes. The sight struck a fire in her stomach that moved to her eyes. For a second Araina just stood there blankly staring into the distance. Then it came all at once her rage, her disgust, the voice in her head all screaming at her to kill the man who bloodied her face.

"No Araina!" Takeda grabbed her before she could go after her prey.

"LET GO! HE WILL DIE FOR THIS!" screamed as she struggled.

Takeda wrestled her into an ally "Arania enough! Control yourself!"

"AH!" she struggled and manged to turn and sunk her fangs into his neck.

"Ngt" he grimaced. She began to feed on him forcefully, sucking the blood from him. "A Arania s stop." his voice quickly became weak. The blood was leaving him to quickly zapping his strength. "Arania... what would... Seyir think?" his voice horse.

"Mmm" tears began to stream from the Nocturnes wild eyes. The rage inside her turned to sadness and guilt.

"Seyir would think... you're better then... this."

Arania's blinked and her soft forgiving eyes returned. She pushed herself off him and collapsed near the wall of the ally. Takeda fell to the sandy floor breathing heavily. "I I I Takeda I'm so so so sorry. I almost killed you." she looked up to him. "Ugh. I think I'm-" she gripped her stomach and through up everything in a bloody mess. Both swordsman and healer laid on the sandy ground drained and scared...

 

[unanun]

Amalia, brown

"For .. love?"

Lut Sar cut in. "One of the bright points of being so short lived."

"Such a dear! Will you be able to keep a husband as First General of Kaustir, I wonder?" The Baroness' lips curled mockingly.

Lut took the Baronness' hands and kissed them; she acknowledged but dismissed the gesture at the same time, the minimum of pittances required to show respect for a Nocturne of her standing. "That is what makes them burn so brightly, no?" He raised his lips from the back of her hand, the other curling around Amalia's waist.

The Baroness glanced over Amalia again, and mocking recognition dawned on her. "Oh. Oh. You, you were the one that was crying yesterday. What happened .. did Daddy .. spank you?"

Lut's fingers traced the diagonal groove where thigh met hip, the shock quelling the rising emotions in Amalia. "Underwriter." He spoke the word in a neutral tone, but it had the intended effect on the Nocturne seductress.

"Bold." The Illusion did not rise to Lut's strike. "You will need that kind of daring when the Czar marches to the Chersonese."

They were both stunned; only, Amalia showed it openly on her face, while Lut smiled blankly. The Baroness leaned in and kissed Lut; he closed his eyes and accepted it, accepted the play, and she moved on, the back of her dress open deeply down her backside.

"What is - " her indignation was cut short as Lut glanced coolly at her. "You did not expect full disclosure from the Czar, or Kaustir, did you? The rules are there, and you have not even learned all of them yet. You are a long way from bending them."

"If you wish to wound a Nocturne, you have to think like one. They are long lived and care not for your trifles. Do you know why you curried her favour, at first? You mentioned that I care for you." Lut paused.

"She knew that it meant I have designs for you. Anyone a Nocturne is interested in will interest the rest. Like moths to a flame."

Theo, grey

"Theeeeeeoooo..." Orvak moved with the hulking Dorgrad miner. With Orvak, it was easy to tell who was Nocturne in the thronging masses at the Soiree: they were the ones that immediately cleared a path for him, in his diamond mask, as the pair idly moved through the crowds. Orvak had requisitioned an amphora of clear water and a meal of the fungus that Theo missed so much.

"The heeeeero of Dorgrad." The Governor clapped his hand on Theo's flank. "Without your brave action - though, I must say! We usually leave the honour of stealing the march to our soldiers - you sent a ball rolling on to uncover the NNNNnnaaaasty cult that slipped under all of my foremen!"

Theo inclined his head.

"But that doesn't excuse you from being a murderer." Orvak's high pitched, theatrical voice was replaced by the bureaucrat's drone, an emotionless voicing that was frightening because of its complete overt neutralness.

"You relieved our mine from the Turbatus, but you still broke the law."

"Henvit ..."

"... was a traitor and deserved to die. Buuuuuuut ... that was not your decision to make."

"Then who - ?"

Orvak sniffed, both dismissive and inquisitive, and though he sniffed from where he stood next to Theo, the minotaur felt like he had leaned in close to sniff the horn. "I smell his schemes all over you."

"Theeeeeeo." He trilled his letters once again. "Theo. You will not be allowed in Dorgrad again if you want to live. You will have to take care of yourself from now on."

"Be careful."

Arania and Takeda

"Unhoused."

"Unhoused."

"Thin blood."

"Giving in to blood lust."

"Thin blood. Thin blood. THIN BLOOD."

The incessant, nagging voices scurried away as an old Nocturne slowly approached them. He was beyond old, ancient, but his eyes were clear, as clear as they could be from fighting the great age. Takeda, despite being badly shaken, rose to offer his hand, and the Nocturne gratefully rested his elbow on the human's for a moment. The elderly one moved on his way, but turned, making a decision to repay the Eastern man's politeness.

"You will not always be able to use the past to patch the present."

"Her lust is an evil spirit, but it can be purged. Perhaps you can go wander the shores of Viridos for a spirit healer."

"Or maybe seek your fortune in the southern city of glass."

 

[Kino]

Over the Last Few Days

While shopping for the ingredients Amalia needed to make her ox tail soup, Rakar began his preparations for the Soiree as well. First, he found a place that sold various gem stones. More than a fourth of his gold was given to the merchant running the shop, but the Draken got what he came for.

The next stop was at a local blacksmith he knew from years past. The same man who forged Rakar's armor and shield before joining the military. A good deal of time was spent inside talking to the smith, with Amalia waiting just outside. When Rakar finally emerged, he was wearing only simple street clothes with his sword on his hip, and his sack of gold missing as well. Amalia looked puzzled, and when asked about his armor, he replied that it was being repaired by the smith, and would be ready in time for the party.

Other the next couple days, once Amalia decided to stay at the palace, Rakar stopped staying so close to her. Feeling that she was safe there for the time being, the soldier spent most of his time away at the blacksmith's. The day of the Soiree, he wasn't seen at all at the palace. Not until the Soiree had already begun.

The Wall Arrives - The Blood Soiree

It was finally time for the unveiling. At the blacksmith's Rakar donned his armor, his shield, and his sword with pride. He had worked alongside the smith on his armor in order to get the job done in time, and even then, he would be arriving a bit late. For him though, it would be worth it.

The hulking Draken walked the short distance from the smith's to the palace, through streets that reeked of old stale blood. There was pride and purpose in the way he carried himself. Upon reaching the double doors leading inside, the guards bowed and pulled open the doors.

Each step gave a heavy thud as Rakar stepped inside. His armor had been reworked from head to toe, making it a bit more decorative while remaining just as functional. Horns were added to the helm, spikes to the shoulders and various other parts of the body. The most noticeable change however was how the armor had been plated in gold. Flawlessly polished gold plating shined from almost every inch of him, including the large spiked tower shield he carried on his left arm. A thermic gem was imbedded into the middle of his breastplate, which gave off a faint red glow as well as an aura of warmth. Hooked to the back of his shoulders was a long crimson red cape made of velvet, with the emblem of Kaustir in gold leaf. His suit was a masterpiece in his eyes, and while his face was hidden behind his helm, the look on Coros's face while he was perched on Rakar's shoulder was full of pride and confidence.

​

After a few moments of scanning the room, he spotted Amalia by the table with Lut Sar. None of these nocturne families interested him in the slightest, and it showed as he moved through the room until he was standing by his General's side. Rakar nor Coros did not offer a verbal greeting to Amalia nor Lut, though Coros gave Amalia a nod before going back to scanning the room. This was his place, standing by her side like that, and he intended to make that known.

 

[unanun]

​

"An extremely interesting drink. You call it ..."

"Kresnick. Acquired with enough blood to dye Zirako red a thousand times over." It was hard to tell whether the Nocturne in front of him was clothed in illusion enchantment or necromancy; its guts and bones were brought to the skin, and it appeared genderless.

"What a penchant you have for theatrics ..." The nightmare imbibed more of the drink, its mouth pursing in deep contemplation as the liquid slithered down its throat. It was, to summarize, a wistful drink, but strong, a drink that sent one back hundreds of years into the past, a drink that reminded one of ancestral bloodlines, yet one that also slammed the drinker with the the heady potency of the present. "Since when where lavish displays like this necessary?"

"Our Houses preside not only over other Nocturnes now."

"You fancy yourself a scholar on humans."

"There are many under me who make it their business to be so."

"And what if I were to tell you, that you were wrong?" The nightmare's guts gurgled, trickling blood down the white bone spurs. So it wasn't illusion magic after all. A pointless jab. The horror made no attempt to hide its approval of the advanced state of Kaustir, its social and cultural progress. "Were we not buried in northern ice ..." The Kresnick's wistfulness shone through.

"You have come a long way." ("I have.") A nocturne's business was not in pleasantry, or small talk, but in scheming - planning, setting a ball rolling and collecting it a decade later.

"My trade in Avarath is dryer than a Draken whore's cunt. The shipments from Viridos have stopped. The merchants clamor for their spices, silks, herbs, water, and bark."

The Vonsoon knew. The Czar wasn't asking for strengthened trade in Pegulis. After all ...

Pegulis did not have any ports on the Prosperos sea.

"A steep request commands an equally steep price."

The other talker swirled the Kresnick, and snapped back a double shot while the Nightmare contented itself with sips to wet the tongue.

 

[Zen]

The general eyed the golden statue that stood in the doorway, cape flapping lightly from the desert breeze. Stunned by his entrance, Amalia watched with jaw agape as Rakar strode proudly up to her, his identity confirmed by the presence of Coros on his shoulder. An aura of heat enveloped both her and Lut, courtesy of the thermic gem.

"So that's where you've been the past few days." She shifted on her heels. "You look..."

Shiny? Impressive? Golden?

"Intimidating."

"That would be the point, General."

Coros spoke softly, turning his head to look at Amalia.

"Glad to know it's had the desired effect."

The High Inquisitor nodded in acknowledgment of the draken, but said little else.

"Do you know when the others will be here?" murmured Amalia.

"I'm afraid not. The majority of my time lately has been used to finish the work on my outfit. I was told to dress well, and so I did. However, I think I may have seen Takeda and Arania outside. Though with how everyone is dressed, I can't be sure."

She inclined her head, fingers fiddling with her sari. The woman became aware of Lut Sar's hand on her waist and gently slid it off of her.

"So, you weren't aware of the Czar moving in on the Chersonese?"

A shake of the head.

"You are his High Inquisitor shouldn't you -"

"The Czar will disclose what he pleases. The Desert Sun has his reasons for these things."

Hesitation. "Does it not bother you?"

Whether he was lying or telling the truth, Amalia could not tell. A longer life span gives one the chance to lie easier. "No. As I said General, the Desert Sun has his reasons. As his loyal subjects, we must trust his decisions."

Rakar stood like a statue next to Amalia, resting the bottom edge of his shield on the ground to rest his arm. Mention of the Chersonese caught his attention, though only Coros reacted. The Aux looked between Amalia and Lut, confused.

"High Inquisitor? Is that?..."

Upon the realization, Coros's eyes widened, and he looked away. The General looked between the two, smiling delicately.

"I know, Coros. I didn't believe it myself when I first saw him." She gestured to herself. "Would you ever think I'd wear something like this?"

"Yes," purred Matil. "With the changes we've had lately, yes."

Amalia frowned. The Wall was about to respond, but Matil beat him to it. Coros seemed puzzled.

"Are you still fighting with yourself?"

"This really isn't the time for such conversation," said the general sharply, glancing up at a lanky nocturne clad in thick, spiky, leather armor. By his clumsy approach and uncomfortable posture, Amalia knew this one couldn't be another Rasbrov, so which would it be?

The stranger tried a menacing grin, which only made the general grimace not because it stirred fear in Amalia, but because it was executed so poorly. He sighed and gave an apologetic smile.

"Shameful, that a nocturne as old as I cannot outsmart a human."

"Perhaps there is more to us than meets the eye," she replied calmly. "And you are...?"

"Abel Yinerith of House Vanmyr. And I am to assume you are Amalia Lortik, the First General of Kaustir?"

"I am, yes." From the corner of her eye, she saw Lut Sar shift uncomfortably. She ignored it, eyeing the leather attire upon the nocturne. "... I thought your house valued the living?"

Abel bowed with great difficulty due to his armor. "Yes, we do. The creature whose life I took to make this died swiftly, and all parts were used."

"That is noble of you." The General scoured the room, noting groups of nocturnes who glanced her way but did not approach. "Is there... A particular reason you've come to see me?"

Abel's smile was almost sheepish, and his words breathy. "I wanted to see you, General Lortik."

"Um, well I am right here. What more is there to see?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"Do you not know? It's been almost two centuries since Kaustir has seen a healer become general. This is... Unprecedented."

Amalia blinked. "Really? I never thought... I suppose it makes sense since Kaustir -"

"You never knew?"

"No, I never... No one told me."

There was a hunger in those eyes, a madness that rivaled Takeda's, and it made the healer step back.

"Your father tells me that your hand is still unwed."

"My father says lots of things, not all of them are true."

"Ah, but he has the best intentions for you. You might be General now, but what of your descendants? My house would be able to provide for them after your passing."

Her fingers twitched in irritation. "And you are of the Solmyr correct?" The nocturne nodded. "Did you not think of asking me first about this proposition? Instead of going to my father?"

"I did not feel it was necessary, not when marriages such as yours would be arranged for both of our -"

Matil hissed, taking a bold step towards the nocturne. Their eyes glittered dangerously.

"What are you assuming about my marriage?"

During the conversation, Rakar unstrapped his left arm from his shield, propping it up against him. The situation between Amalia and this... interesting Nocturne was going bad quickly. In an attempt to calm things down, Rakar lifed his left hand up and placed it on Amalia's shoulder, the heavy metal of his gauntlet feeling oddly warm to her skin. Coros strode down his arm, resting on top of his hand and in turn, on Amalia's shoulder. With a close gaze at the would-be suitor, the Aux spoke.

"I'm afraid there has been a misunderstanding. General Lortik is not looking for courtship, nor marriage. It would be best, I assure you, to drop the matter now rather than pursue it further."

Abel balked, and opened his mouth to argue.

"No, really, drop it," said Matil curtly. "I've had more than enough of this marriage debacle."

A twitch of the upper lip, the straightening of the back, and the nocturne departed swiftly. Amalia held her breath for several seconds before releasing it in a deep sigh. She prayed that being so brash wouldn't bite her in the future, but the nocturne had to be told off and she was at her wit's end.

Glancing down, Matil was staring up at her Crux; a twinkle of pride danced in those amber eyes.

"He lied," said Lut smoothly.

"About which part?" replied Amalia dryly.

"His age. He is not as old as he says to be."

"Somehow I'm not surprised. He isn't as good at this face changing game as you are." The General turned her head and gazed into Coros' eyes, gratitude reflected on her face. The moment lasted for several seconds, then her attention shifted to Lut Sar.

"How old are you?"

"Old enough."

She huffed in exasperation. "That's not an answer."

"I know it's not."

"I'd like to get one straight answer out of you nocturnes this evening."

His expression was unreadable, causing Amalia to purse her lips in frustration.

"You told Illusion you had designs for me. What are they? Because if is it marriage, I've half a mind to punch you myself."

 

[UltimaCircuit]

The Blood Soiree

The two did not converse in the time it took them to get to the palace where the real celebration was being held. An audible grunt came from K'Jol as he looked at the doors of the palace with his brother in arms. A mellow wind blew from their right, knocking up the bottoms of their extravagant robes. Each of the Draken nodded at each other before entering the palace. Once the duo was in, K'Jol instantly lifted up his foot and checked the bottom thoroughly.

"No blood, thank the gods... well, if they existed."

"...You've lost your wit over the years, haven't you?"

"What!? How did I lose my wit? My concern was a legitimate one, was it not?"

"The Nocturnes aren't that weird."

As soon as Kasindel finished his sentence K'Jol gave him a hard and long look. A sigh left his lips before he threw his head to the left, signaling for them to continue down the corridor. Many people clad in different dresses and designs walked by, dresses that were more beautiful and unique than their own clothing. Maybe the two had visited the wrong shop, for their clothing did not seem to stick out to all the Nocturne around. Not one Nocturne that the two walked past pointed at the backs of their robes, which made K'Jol slightly angry. It seemed as if the only way to impress those of an a weird race was to be weird yourself.

And then they saw... IT.

The thing made him want to hurl. Whatever it was had it's whole body inverted and it's insides displayed to the outside world. K'Jol instantly clasped both his hands over his mouth before walking away from the site.

"Fuck you Kasindel, telling me lies."

"...Alright, I was wrong."

"I mean, we cut people open and look at the body for a few seconds but that was just... disgusting."

"I agree, how about we go to a-"

The famed warrior stopped in his tracks, hands falling to his sides as he looked ahead at something that was even harder for him to comprehend then the monstrosity he was previously looking at. He watched the masked Nocturne from Dorgrad leave the side of his old comrade. The one who tried so hard to save him in Avarath was now in front of him. K'Jol quickened his pace, walking up to the centaur before gulping.

"This isn't an illusion, is it?"

​

 

[Kriodine]

Nascene, orange

Draegal stared at the bottle, it filled halfway to the top with a golden liquid. In the center of the bottle stood an odd flower, it's petals constantly changing colors. He was perplexed by the bottle before him, every now and then he would check the journal he held and then go back to staring at the bottle. After a while he picked up the bottle and put it into a cushioned chest, he then started to write in his journal, occasionally flipping to another page before quickly going back to another. Eventually he closed the book and muttered "Why? None of this makes sense. Why make a puzzle and then give the key away? Darius what did you learn up there?" He then gave his journal one more look through before putting it into a box with some other various bottles within. After putting it away he grabbed the rest of his stuff and put it on his back, then he proceeded to grab two large drinking barrels and carried all of it out of his room.

As he walked to the Soiree, he was greeted by a lone traveler. As he moved to get past the traveler, they stopped him by raising their arm. "What's this, Draegal refusing to greet an old lover? Come let us go to the Soiree together for old times sake." she taunted before grabbing a barrel out of Draegal's arm and placing it on her shoulder. Draegal responded by using his newly freed arm to grab hers "If you wanted something from me Sheol, you could have just asked."
"You already know what I want, and I'm willing to pay double my last offer."
"Alright I'll do it, but I want a favor instead of money."
"Name it."
"I need you to create a diversion and tell Lilith that I'm leaving."
"When and why should I tell that whore?"
"Because you owe me and tomorrow morning."
"Seems a little soon don't you think?"
"It should be plenty of time for a schemer like you."
"You insult my reputation, but none the less it shall be done. Let it be said that I am a woman of my word."

The two continued on to the main event, where Draegal quickly dropped off the two barrels of drink he brought. It was then that he lost track of Sheol causing him to quickly scan the crowd for a familiar face, he had heard that the general and her party would be attending and he had kind of hoped to find Takeda among the crowd. While he wasn't the best of friends with the swordsman it would have been nice to find a familiar face among the Nocturne elite. After a moment of searching he saw General Lortik and made a beeline for her. As he reached her he gave a bow and said "General Lortik, it is a pleasure to meet you again."

 

[Obskeree]

THEO

Theo heard K'Jol before he saw him - his gaze was transfixed by the disappearing Orvak.

"This isn't an illusion, is it?"

He turned his head finally and almost laughed with relief - he didn't think he would see a familiar face ever again after Orvak's announcement. Ignoring the surroundings for a moment, he clapped his hands onto K'Jol's shoulders. For a brief moment, he was tempted to hug out the relief, but thought better of it.

"Oh, I hope not," he replied. "It's good to see you're alive." He glanced over K'Jol's shoulder to see the other draken approaching, somewhat apprehensively. "What are you doing here? Are the others here? The First General?" Gaios fluttered around them impatiently.

"What about you?" K'Jol replied. "You..."

Theo paused. It was a fair question. "It's a long story, Comrade." Images of Nassad's whip, Blitz biting himself for fleas and the dead Knacker came to mind. It was a story he didn't care to retell so quickly. "I'm free now. That's what important. That's... that's what matters. And you are alive and well."

 

[Tone 6th]

The Meeting

"Wait Viridos? That's a long way away my friend. Do you know of such a healer?" he asked with a smile.

"I used to young one, before I came to Kaustir, she lived a top a cliff on the eastern shore. Daidra is her name and she can help you and your friend." the old man motioned to Arania who had now risen to her feet.

"Why are you helping us?" Takeda cautiously questioned.

"Tonight is the night where Nocturnes come together and celebrate as one." his voice horse. He got back to his feet and began walking back down the ally.

"Thank you my friend!" Takeda called after. The old man waved as he disappeared around the corner.

The Nocturne sun was getting higher in the sky now.

"Araina we can talk about this later with Amalia, but for now we must get to the party." he said softly.

Araina nodded and the two of them made their way to the grand party. They were announced and Takeda's eyes quickly darted around the room, looking for Amalia. It took a few moments to search through the loud crowded room, but then he spotted her. Arania mouth was still bloodstained and Takeda's neck had two holes where she bit him. "Bah this is no good." he gave her a cloth, "quickly clean yourself up." he said urgently. The swordsman brought his collar to his neck in hopes of no one seeing the bit marks.

Once the two were cleaned up they headed over to Amalia's table. "General you look stunning" he bowed to her. "Ah High Inquisitor it's nice to see you as well." Takeda took a stab in the dark as to who he was addressing, but bowed anyway. "And good evening to you as well my gold clad friend." he gave a smile to Rakar. Arania simply smiled to each of them "You look as brilliant as the morning sun General." she said in a soft voice.

Takeda knelt down beside Alamia and brought a hand to her ear "General there is something I must tell you in privet it's urgent, but I suppose it can wait until after the party." he whispered quickly. The swordsman stood back up and stood by her side as a guard.

*Caw!* Shibu flew in from an open window and landed on Takeda's shoulder "Shibu have you come to enjoy the party?" he scratched his aux under her chin. Her eyes were fixed Matil and would not be torn away "No, I've come to apologize to Matil, Takeda. We hurt Alamia's soul, made her hate us. While you slept I was unable to help you fight against your other self. I am sorry." Shibu's head was held low. "I've done more than enough apologizing for the both of us Shibu, the only thing left to do is wait and see." sorrow laced his words. "No this must be done." Shibu hopped from Takeda's shoulder to Matil "Aux of the General I offer you my most sincere apology. I was not able to protect your cux from mine, and have made you bitter towards us." Shibu gave an awkward bow.

 

[MiNaGi]

Arania Velka

[dash=magenta]Arania was anxious, after all. It did not take her more than a few moments to realize that she needed some time alone. When Takeda and Shibu were distracted with talking and apologizing to Amalia, she took her chance and slipped away. It was too much for her all at once, and a guilt filled her stomach whenever her gaze would shift to the swordsman.

Viridos? A healer needing healing herself? Consulting the General about it? She had not been to Viridos after she had escaped from there as young... was she really ready to go back?

As her thoughts were preoccupied, a slender hand placed on her shoulder, bony fingers gently grasping her. In immediate shock, she spun around, only to see a slightly familiar face. It was the woman from the tailor shop where she had aquired her dress. She bowed down deep in gratefulness, soon standing up again to see the woman giving her a strange look. She was at a loss for words.

"I... thank you for the kind treatment the other day, Miss. The dress is absolutely stunning."

"But little Miss... what does a girl of your status need with bowing down to a mere peasant like myself?"

"I'm sorry?"

The woman turned around to a group of people standing together. They were all dressed in similar robes, but she knew that she could not figure out who or where they were from with just that. It seemed like they were from the same family, though. A man walked over beside the woman that Arania had been talking to. Shock filled her as she stared at him. He resembled... her. A lot. The same blonde hair, hazel eyes... he even had the same face shape as herself, albeit a more masculine looking version of it.

"Is she not yours, Aliester?" The woman inquired at the man standing at her side. He looked pale at that question upon eyeing Arania. It seemed like he recognized her, but Arania could swear that she had never met this man in her life. Though the resemblance was striking between them, she would not say that she had ever seen him before.

"Miss... where do you come from?"

"I live here in Kaustir. Avarath."

"No... where is your birthplace?"

"V... Viridos, I believe. I do not have a certain birthplace, but I was raised there. Why are you asking me these questions, Sir?"

The man, Aliester, apparently, ignored her question completely and turned to the woman that was standing to his left with a perplexed expression on herself, just as confused as Arania felt. What was this situation? What was going on? The man stormed off with the woman at his arm, and she heard the words inquired at him as she was dragged off.

"What?! So she isn't yours? But she looks exactly like you! Didn't you go to Viridos at some point, too?! What's going on?"

Arania stumbled back, tripping over her own feet so she fell to the ground. Her breathing increased, head aching. Could that man be...? Could he really...?!

She refused to believe it. She was not the unwanted child of some rich Nocturne family. She was an orphan abandoned in Viridos. Her parents were most likely dead. Something like this she refused to believe.

Shaking and trembling, she got onto her feet and back to the General and the company, and directed her eyes at Lut, her expression filled with horror.

"High Inquisitor." She said, bowing down to him. She took the same guess as Takeda, hoping that she was right. There was something about the way that Lut Sar carried himself that made him recognizeable as he sat there at Amalia's side. "Do you know... anything about the Nocturne family over there?"

The people that she had just interacted with were standing in quite a lump over in a less crowded part of the large party hall, and as she nodded her head in that direction, it was obvious that she was referring to them. What was going on, she did not know, but what she did know was that her heart felt like a block of ice in her chest and she was scared out of her mind. [/dash]

 

[unanun]

[dash=brown]

Shocked silence followed Amalia's accusation. All around them were the muted signs of the Masquerade. It was a beautiful night, and miraculously, wispy clouds circled about Zirako. They cast strong shadows in the weak moonlight; it was a perfect time for smoke, mirrors, sleight of hand, and lies.

"Marriage?"

"Pff .. "

"Hmmm hmm hmm hahahahHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" His face, unnaturally youthful, mischevious, and perhaps even teasing, wrinkled back to the visage Amalia was familar with, and he appeared to change clothes in the blink of flickering candle.

"You've been getting straight answers out of us all evening! Didn't you see how transparent Illusion and Abel of the Vonsoon (Yes, he was a Vonsoon, not the Solmyr - why would anyone from Viridos have political ambitions? Hahaha!) were? If all that comes out of a mouth is lies and illusion, what is left must be truth, no?"

Lut Sar reached forward with one hand, tenderly cupping Amalia's cheek. She did not flinch or pull away, but returned the look, albeit through one eye that was pinched a little shut by his hand.

"I have plans for you. And plans for Kaustir."

"For us."

The corners of his mouth quirked up in a smirk, but he reserved his mock disdain for the guard behind her, Rakar, face hidden behind the helmet. Of course, what was dark to humans was bright to Nocturnes. The Draken's face that Rakar thought was hidden inside the darkness was twisted in disgust and perhaps jealousy. Lut removed his hand and took a step back, palms held face up in submission, as much as a predator could.

"Rakar. Such splendid armour you have on you this evening. Did you melt down your reward and plate your armour with it? With such beautiful carapace, it would be a shame to waste it not talking to a Nocturne." The armour shifted, ever so slightly. "Just a jest! And is that .. a thermic gem? For your sake, I hope you can claim to a Rasbrov that you pried it from the cold, dead hands of a Tavark barbarian!" Perhaps Lut enjoyed watching the Draken, who freely expressed his emotions inside the confines of the helmet, unlike that day in Dorgrad.

Takeda and Arania approached the trio. Of course they could recognize Lut Sar; he was already as he was. Lut cocked his head at Arania's request, turning to gaze at the group of blonde Nocturnes.

"... rich trading family. They've done a good job; I cannot tell what bloodline they are from. Rasbrov or Solmyr, the Pegulis does not trade much."

"But I can you that their true self is quite ugly. Can you smell their stench?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Amalia caught someone else winking at her.

The Wraith, Lut's doppelganger, flitted off into the shadow of another passing cloud.​

[/dash]

 

[Zen]

"I... What?"

Amalia blinked, gaze plastered on the doppelganger. Questions buzzed, but couldn't be asked through the haze of her illness, along with the need to remain composed and collected.

"General Lortik, it is a pleasure to meet you again."

Another distraction. His face, his voice, his demeanor - it was familiar, yet Amalia had trouble placing his identity.

"I've seen you before haven't I?" Recognition struck like lightning. "Of course! You were the one who gave me that drink at the party in Avarath -"

"And subsequently made me vomit over K'jol," finished Matil. Amalia blinked in surprise.

"I'm sorry, ignore her. Me. Matil. No. Ugh."

She rubbed her palm against her eyes to rid herself of the haze, forgetting that she wore make up. Her kohl eyeliner smeared, but the general thought nothing of it. How long had she been standing there, picking up conversation after conversation? Did she even eat anything? Not that whatever was on the table was even appetizing for Amalia. She sucked in a breath of air, and tried to smile; it didn't look like a good smile.

"The pleasure is all mine Draegal. I'm happy to see you again, and you seem to be in great spirits." She gestured to the barrels. "Speaking of spirits you seem to have brought - "

Ice trickled down from her head and into her veins at the sight of Takeda and Arania. Both looked stunning, but it did nothing to quell the panic arising in the General. She did not want to see him, not in front of all of these nocturnes.

"Spirits," she finished coldly.

Matil sat straight as a board, listening intently with unblinking eyes to the apology that Shibu spewed forth.

"You have made us bitter," Matil said calmly. "But Takeda is right."

Her tail swished back and forth. The sand cat turned, and cocked her head at Amalia.

"Well?"

"Ahem. We'll think about what you've just said and -"

"Your apology is not accepted," stated the Aux coldly, quietly. "We are bitter, angry, and very afraid. For now you are allowed to stay within our company, but one more set back, and I will execute you. Is that understood?"

"Matil please..."

A shimmer of black passed over the Aux, faded, and then lightened to her sand colored coat. "Are we the First General or not?"

Amalia's silence showed her misgivings.

 

[DotCom]

Before, indigo

The noises around them swelled as the cave walls grew in tighter, magnifying the sound of accumulated moisture dropping into scant puddles at their feet. They walked almost half a mile before the cave made its abrupt downward turn, and Shae didn't waste the time or energy trying to figure out what -- other than insanity -- would have driven an Avian so far underground.

"So..." Shae paused to listen to the chorus of hissings all around them. Nu dangled below her, her expression unreadable in the murky darkness of the lantern hanging at Shae's waist. "What are we gonna do? When we...y'know, find him?"

"He must die."

"Yeah, but do you have a plan for that? Or are we just hoping -- "

"Shae must be quiet. Knox wears the darkness as one wears a cloak."

Shae was quiet a moment before whispering through the dark, "You can just tell me to shut up."

"Shae...must shut up."

"Close enough."

They reached the floor of the cave in a little over and hour, just when Shae was beginning to think her arms would shrivel and fall off her body. Nu, her face drawn and tight in the bluish light of Shae's spelled lantern -- heatless flames trapped inside a glass ball half full of sand -- had not even broken a sweat. Shae found it fascinating and irksome.

She stood in the dark and watched the other girl become something simultaneously more and less than human.

It seemed an eternity had passed when at last she spoke.

"He is here."

Blood Soiree, darkred

It had taken three minutes for Shae to discover Zirako was not the Avarath street market she had once called home, and three attempts before she found a willing customer.

Her mistake, she knew. For all she had ever considered herself a performer, Kaustir's capital city brought a new meaning to the words 'outstanding in her field'.

The first time, it had been a question: "Do you want to see your fortune?" It was met with disdain at best, and silence at the worst.

The second had been an invitation. "Come see what the fates have in store." That had earned mockery, condescension. No coin, and no news. She had not seen Nu since they'd left the desert.

On her third attempt, Shae took a chance and made it a challenge.

"I can show you the face of Death where yours would appear," she said, holding out her mirror in hands that, for once, did not tremble.

It worked. Or it seemed to.

A nocturne with a painted face. Stars or dying flesh on a field of black. Was there intrigue in those fathomless eyes?

Shae steeled herself under a heavy gaze. "Tell me: who blinks first?"

The Nocturne gazed at her for a long time, though only a single line on the water clock passed. Was it a baleful or benevolent look?

"You will, Red Spark of the Desert." His voice was surprisingly normal. "And then you will see Death." Idle threats ... but the Nocturne appeared interested.

Shae smiled sagely, Ombre coiling closer around her neck to hide the sheen of sweat there.

"We will see. My fires burn hot." The stoat scuttled down her arm and circled the fire at her feet, kicking up the brightly colored sands her new benefactor had bought her. They flames locked higher, purple and green by turns. They were parlor tricks unfitting of the Blood Soirée, she knew.

But then the real show was only beginning.

"I have heard no fire is kind to those who thrive in the darkness."

"Don't you know?" The Nocturne reached out with a razor sharp nail and delicately placed it on her cheek. "We are drawn to flames. To fire. To the sun. It is the only thing we cannot have, yet the only thing guaranteed to end our life." The nail did not bite into her cheek.

Shae shrugged simply.

"And yet here you are," she said. "Will you come closer? If my fire promises life?"

She held the mirror out over her flames, letting the edges grow red-orange with heat. Ombre shivered as her Advent began.

In her hands, she held two pairs of eyes. She grinned.

"Let us hope the mirror works as ward and window. For your sake."

Something Borrowed Something Blue

Nu was the first thing she saw, and yet she was nearly unrecognizable.

She seemed pale almost to the point of translucence, propped on a mountain of pillows as though the mere thought of supporting her own body weight was exhausting.

As she watched, other shapes began to make themselves known: the bed beneath her, the window overlooking now-familiar courtyard. Maps, drawings, charcoal, and the flush of a fever heat that seemed almost tangible. Shadows in black cloaks, like the one Nu had brought into the desert, moved in and out of the room. And every time Nu would point and nod and turn away again. The shadow creatures would disappear into the night again, fading like smoke into what remained of the Soiree.

And Nu never once looked up.

She was his again.

The fact made itself immediately clear and struck Shae such that she nearly collapsed into her fire, taking a step back instead. The nocturne sneered, annoyed or curious.

Their mission had been for naught. Or Nu had never been hers to begin with.

"So? What did you see, witch?"

Shae balked. She could put out her fire now, douse it in the cold sweat that had sprung up on her skin. The mirror had burned a red welt into her hand.

"Fire," she said abruptly, the word -- the lie? -- jumping forth of its own accord. "Fire."

The nocturne's face was lit by the fire below, shadow dancing against porcelain skin. The mirror was still warm.

"Take it," she urged. "All is vanity."

 

[unanun]

Some time ago

Lut moved on a second layer of blankets. Nu stared ahead, didn't say anything, but the twitch of her cheek, the small flush, told him. Too hot. He moved back the second layer. Now, too cold. He could see the shivering in her calf muscles.

Altogether, it was an awkward and clumsy dance.

It was only the two of them in his office in the Grey tower. The window bristled with a thousand spyglasses, the imperfect lenses showing warped and coloured images of the gathering Soiree below. The light from below dimly reflected upwards through as well, a grimy kaleidoscope flashing on the ceiling of his office.

Equal and opposite reactions.

She laid on a bed of pillows. He did not know that it was uncomfortable for her; by his own doing, she had slept on hard rock and reed mats her entire adult life. But to her, this was just another on the long list of inexplicable punishments he inflicted on her. She wanted to shift her position, but didn't.

He did not have to explain her duty to him. He still did, guiding her weakened limbs to the focusing knobs, pointing out softly which spyglass was for which tower, and whispering the code words she would need to hand to the Wraiths who stood at attention outside the door.

Her eyes followed his hands, memorized his motions, committed them to memory. She would be flawless, as usual. Unlike him.








[dash=grey]

Lut pressed the oryx onwards. He followed tufts of black barbs along the sand. For once, his vision seemed to fail him. The black dots were nearly indistinguishable from the sand in the dark of the night. Was he following a mirage? Impossible. There was no sun.

Only the moon.

At dawn, he caught them at the surf. The pair of Wraiths behind him moved forward, as casually threatening as the billowing cloaks around them would allow.

She moved as the first ray of sun shot into the eyehole of their masks. In between blinks she was in front of them, then blurring to the side. The first Wraith bent over, a punch to the kidney and sweep of the leg sending him crashing to the ground, knocked out with a punch to the chest. The second Wraith already reacted, and slapped Nu across the face with a steel gauntlet, sending her spinning into the sand.

Shae stood to the side, mouth agape. A finger reached in from her periphery and closed her jaw, and she also got a complementary dagger resting on her jugular.

"Do you know how to tell if they've been trained well?"

Nu was battered and bloody. Where the Wraith flowed on the sand, using the cloak to kick up blinding clouds, red, wet footsteps followed. Shark's steel teeth in the cloak lacerated Nu's skin. Nu took a fist full of sand, turning it into a bloody mud, and used it as a glove to grab the Wraith's cloak, slamming her other fist into the mask. It split down the middle and the Nocturne fell back into the sand, unconscious.

"How equally they hurt each other. Now ..."

Nu turned towards them, real horror - an emotion Lut had not seen since she peeled away his face with an arrow in her village - showing on her face. Her sudden openness infuriated the High Inquisitor to no end ... yet it stilled his dagger as it started to bite into her neck.

I can kill him.

Lut cocked his head. "My Wraith (Nu) vouches for your potential." The blade ran slick with Shae's blood. "Convince me to invest in you."

[/dash]

The tutorial finished, Lut straightened himself and gazed outside. What he saw ...

And what she saw ...

Would never be the same.

He stared at her until she finally raised her eyes to meet his, blank, opaque yet transparent. Nothing had changed, it seemed. He made his way out of the office and descended the stairs to prepare for the Soiree.​

 

[UltimaCircuit]

K'Jol looked the centaur in front of him up and down before narrowing his eyes at the beast. Skepticism poked at his insides but he decided to let the whole issue drop from his mind. He walked up the the beast, staying only inches away from his face before grabbing the horn on the left side of Theo's head. A twist of the wrist caused his friend's head to jerk downward slightly, causing the centaur to let out an enraged roar.

"What the hell is that for?"

A smirk came upon the Draken's face before he let go of the Dorgradi miner's horn.

"Just to verify that no magic was being used before me. In my head I imagined that my hand would stop your cloaking spell."

"Weird logic... I thought you would just take my word for it."

"Sorry about that. Anyways for your previous question.... I am not sure. I have not seen anyone else here besides my friend Kasindel."

He motioned behind himself with his hand, but Theo gave him a confused look. The famed warrior turned back to see that his friend was gone. He scratched the side of his head before shrugging.

"I guess he went off somewhere else..."

"Really? Well, would you like to look for the others?"

A nod was given to Theo.

The two set off to find their comrades.