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Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy roleplaying forum! We strive for creative, free-form roleplaying, in the hopes of allowing each and every single member the power to achieve their potential.
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| Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy forum! We're always looking for new, dedicated members. Elenlond is composed of two continents: Soare and Esiria. Esiria, a land now isolated due to the efforts of the last remaining Goddess, is inaccessible to all beings and lies in the east. Soare, a continent in the west, is composed of three distinct nations: Ashoka, Soto, and Morrim. Lying between the two major continents are the Scattered Isles. Since the dissolution of the pantheon and the fall of the gods, these countries have existed in relative peace and prosperity. But how long will that peace last? Enter Elenlond; Turn the pages and tell your own tale. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| A Rat in the Palace; [Private] | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 6 2009, 12:12 PM (128 Views) | |
| Ashes | Jul 6 2009, 12:12 PM Post #1 |
 
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The trek had been easier instructed than performed, but a stubborn girl like Ashes would not be easily swayed from her decision, no matter what hardships and obstacles she met. The first order of business had been finding safe passage of the island Angkar for herself, Tarot, and the black horse Andromalius had left to carry her. She had found a small sack tied to the saddle, fat with coins, but even these could not persuade most of the sailors that having a woman on board would be fine. Slave traders of course sprung up and offered her free passage on their ships, but Ashes was not a fool girl, and her clever eyes saw the guile in their words. Even the ones who would consider her despite her gender fled when she told them she was trying to reach Morrim. Countless times she was told that Morrim's coast was nearly impossible to dock at, that she should just give up and head home. Still, strong willed, Ashes persisted until she convinced a smugglers ship. She did so by careful gage of character- she picked the proudest, most boastful, most greedy captain. When he said it was because she was a woman, she said that just went to show he knew nothing about how to handle ladies (he actually blushed at this, mouth open like a fish, looking for a response but all he managed was “I do too!”). When he insisted Morrim was too dangerous to dock at she laughed and called him a coward, turning she made a show of dropping the bag of coins to demonstrate its weight. Acting she pretended it was almost too heavy for her to pick up, and that had sealed the deal. The ocean had been rough and storm tossed, but the dangerous sea just made Ashes laugh. Curled in a pile of hay below deck, she spent her time attempting to learn how to read and calming the black stallion. His eyes would get wide and roll and he reared many times at first but after awhile of Ashes stroking his long face, her smooth voice soothing him, he learned to be comforted simply by her presence. Tarot spent his time pouncing on rats and mice, successfully ridding the smugglers vessel of the pests by the time they reached Morrim. The first thing Ashes noticed as she blinked in the brightness of the sun was that the air smelled different. As she lead the horse off the ship, Tarot perched upon her shoulders, she could see just how different the city she'd arrive in was. Still, she had somewhere to be, and was prompt to swing up onto her horse and nudge him with her heels, sending him into a light trot down the rode. Rain was pouring fast and hard, the thunder almost deafening as lightening split the sky. Her cloak, worn and threadbare, billowed behind her as her horse fan full speed down the road. Tarot was nestled against her, sharing body heat as they neared the palace. It seemed ominous in the dimness of a lightening lit night, but she pressed on. When she reached the front she swung off of the horse, approaching the guards. Her rag tag cloak whipped behind her in the wind. She tossed her hood back, showing rain-water wet pink hair clinging to her cheeks. Her green eyes flashed as lightening struck somewhere behind the palace. She was dressed in no more clothing than last time, a black band that covered her slight chest and green pants slung low on her hips with gapping holes in the knees. She had tossed away the old bandages on her arm but had, had no money for more, so the black cracks, like breaks in porcelain or glass, were visible in the light of the guards' torches. Tarot was on her shoulders once more, tail curled around her afflicted arm. She looked up at the guards fearless and said over the sounds of thunder and heavy rain fall, “I'm here to see Andromalius.” The castle sprawled before her was a daunting sight, no doubt beautiful in the day time it looked more now like the castles possessed by rich villains in bard's tales. Of course, Andromalius was no saintly good hearted fellow himself. Then again, she was no delicate princess, either. She was excited, a small clever smile on her lips as she stood before the guards, Tarot's eyes glowing in the darkness. It was a strange feeling she got as she looked up at the castle. She didn't know what it was yet, but it definitely wasn't fear. She turned her eyes from the impressive dwelling and back to the guards, "M'name is Ashes Ironheart." |
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| Andromalius | Jul 7 2009, 04:41 PM Post #2 |
King of the Sexy Guys
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The message had been passed down that a scantily-clad girl with a small pet dragon, riding on a black horse, would arrive at the gate and ask to see the residing ruler of Morrim. The guards had seen her as she'd approached, and knew to step to the side and allow her to pass once the reached the gates. With a shrill whistle, a guard cast his attention to around the corner, where from it came a humbled young woman, drenched by the rain, with long, matted brown hair. "I'll take your mount from here, Miss," she said quietly when she eventually reached the small gathering of people. Even though the sky above unnervingly crashed above, once the raised a hand to pet the stallion's face, it seemed to immediately fall into a soothed trance. Once the horse was free of a rider, she took its reigns and casually led it back around to the stables. "He's been waiting for you," one of the guards said, unlocking the imposing wall as he began to push in on it, allowing for a small path through. "The night shift is minimal. You'll have to seek him out yourself." This particular soldier had had only one previous run-in with the Emperor. It had been a cordial one, and through his unfortunate appearance, he'd marked Andromalius with being a fairly good guy. Why he would invite someone to the palace who dressed without dignity was briefly pondered on, but then again, she could be the same as him in the way that her appearance was only deception. Or perhaps he was planning on helping the girl. In any case, the fellow decided to consider this a good thing, and smiled subtly at her as she passed through with a respective nod. A mass of steps were displayed before the grand structure, surrounded by a beautiful garden in bloom, apparently well-tended by a team of gardeners. A long-stemmed Iris flower had been picked, and was laying on the edge of the steps as if waiting for someone, but the rain had nearly demolished its petals. Now, they were merely clinging to the ground in last hopes of not being blown away. When she would reach the main door, another group of soldiers, four, greeted her with similar respectful nods. The one closest to the door gripped the mammoth knobs and, with a grunt, gave her enough space to enter the structure, nearly slipping against the slick stone of the ground. "It's night," he told her,"so he will either be in the library on the second floor, the bathing room on the fifth, or the master bedroom on the sixth. If you get lost, call for help and someone will surely come to find you." Inside, the dry warmth beckoned her, the flicker of lit candelabras casting a heavenly glow across a grand collection of art, in all of its forms. A maid passed by in the distance, hiking the skirt of her dress up just enough so that she might not trip as she hurried off on another mission. |
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| Ashes | Jul 7 2009, 06:07 PM Post #3 |
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“Hun', I'm never lost.” Ashes reply came with a mischievous little smile as she passed the guards and entered the magnificent palace. Three steps inside and her eyes drank in this new world of luxury. True enough she had entered expensive homes before and witnessed the lavish decorations but none had been so breath taking at this place. None of those establishments had been entered with the idea that she, a street rat, would live within such richly decorated walls. Abnormally bright green orbs fixed first on the artwork. She moved across the floor quietly, quickly, investigating the fruits of many a painter and sculptors labors. This was one of those things that set her apart- an in born appreciation for created beauty. Tarot leaped from her shoulders into the air, flying lazy circles before landing amongst the candles on one of the candelabras. It swayed slightly but did not move more than that, no candles falling as the miniature dragon rested amongst the dancing flames. His scales glinted, tail hanging down, silver eyes searching the room while Ashes drew closer to look in more detail at the figures etched on canvas. She brisked past them- pausing the eye a view but never lingering. She stopped in the middle and just looked down the row, bored of eying each in turn, but the last caught her eye. It was tucked in a way that kept much light from reaching it, white marble features that, even from the corner of her eye, she could tell had an uncanny likeness to her own. Brisk steps took her to stand in front of it, eyes roaming over to girl. She was smiling a secretive smile, her eyes, carved open, had the iris' inset with emerald. Uncannily green as her own, glittering in feeble fire light. So close she could tell that, she was not identical to the statue, but the likeness there was still made her feel strange. This woman was tall and slender, carved nude but with her arms crossed in front of her chest and standing with her legs crossed. Dragon wings came from her back, half wrapped around her body, as if about to spread or continue forward to cover her bare body. Scales had been painstakingly carved along the girls arms and small claws at her fingertips. Fangs passed her bottom lip. The statue obviously had not be a favorite of the empress, as it was tucked away from the rest, dust covered. It was chipped in placed and cracked in other. Just looking at it made her own uncovered disease hurt, another hairline crack appearing, black elegance sliding down her arm. She was drawn from her trance at the eerie sculpture by a sound as Tarot's tail cracked through the air, murdering a moth mid flight. Ashes moved away from the statue, her back and wakazashi still throw over her shoulder, and scoffed her her small companion, 'What'd that ugly butterfly ever do to you, hm? Come on.” She moved towards the stairs. It was a cascade of neat steps, not narrow as the stairs at her former residence had been. These staircases were wide and sprawling and even as she walked up them, straight up the middle, people passed with room and ease on either side. There was no denying it, she was amazed by the grand palace. She moved briskly through the second floor, running, but did not find him there. When she ran up to the six floor, then remembered she needed to check the fifth, she smiled slyly. Childishly she hopped up on one of the railings and slid down the stairs with a laugh, a few maids exchanging looks but mostly just smiling as they watch her. Her pink hair whipped behind her as she landed, lost her footing, then did a hand-stand to catch herself. Bending her legs backwards she created an arch with her body then push up off the floor, contorting herself to land on her feet. Someone clapped and Ashes turned and bowed, a low sweeping mockery of a nobles curt gesture. She headed down this floor and searched but did not find him there either, relieved that there was only one place left to look Ashes took these stairs two at a time tor return to where she had previously stood on the sixth floor landing. She turned and gazed down the sprawling stair case, looking around at all the finery that dressed the walls... She didn't belong here she knew, but to hell with belonging. She did a cartwheel as she approached the master bedroom, and paused. She combed her fingers through her still damp hair and turned to Tarot, who was still flying, his wing beats slowed to that of a dying mans heart as he hovered when she stopped. 'Shhh.” she put her finger to her lips and quietly opened the door. Inside she set her bag and wakazashi down on the floor by the door, and Tarot landed to rest on the bag as it to protect it (though honestly, who here would steal such things?). She moved further into the dimness of the room and her piercing eyes sought the pale figure she had ventured all this way to see, and learn from. Edited by Ashes, Jul 7 2009, 06:08 PM.
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| Andromalius | Jul 7 2009, 11:39 PM Post #4 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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In the womb of the dark room, faint light crept through the window pane, moonlight distorted by the storm clouds. Once in a while, light would flood the room in a flash, revealing bits of a white body tangled in sheets, the thicker blankets having been tossed to the ground an hour ago in thrashing. From the moment she entered the room, she would be able to hear the sound of fabric sliding across fabric, as during sleep, his body was always twitching and moving, tossing and turning. The Banshee's sleep was never peaceful, as he was never at peace. Along the far wall, large charred spots would be visible, as well as many cracks where said wall had been repaired far too many times. In the lightning, his hands would be twisted into the mattress, tearing large, gaping holes into its surface with the black talons he wore, and on occasion, he would make noises, from small breaths of air to muttering things that could have been words. But, Andromalius had been asleep long enough now, had gone through his buried memories long enough, that Ashes had just arrived for the grand finale. His body twisted and strained the way nothing that feels pain ought to, back arched all the way off the bed as his hands sank further and further into the holes of the mattress. Deep gulps of air was the the only thing to keep him breathing, suffocating in his subconscious. At last, his chest filled, and out unleashed a shrill scream that tore the window pane into shards to fall onto the floor, a gust of wind billowing into the room. His shriek rang, alerting all of Morrim of his terrifying dreams. It continued for seconds until his body shot up, she cry immediately cut off with the opening of his eyes. He took a moment to collect himself, panting, drawing his nails slowly out of the mattress ...memories fading once more. He'd lived with these nightmares for long enough now not to chase after them, to just accept that he would return to never know what had happened to him to make him scream at night in such a violent way. Andromalius buried his face in his hand, his hair tangled and matted to his back from a cold sweat. The only sound after the shock was the howling of the wind and the distant rolling of thunder from outside the broken window. As if the silence was too much to take, his right hand shot out, glowing brightly of violet before a huge beam shot out and destroyed the far wall, opening it up to the small room adjacent which appeared to have been an office. He did this with a low growl and gnashed teeth, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and tearing away the sheets to stand and pace frantically. It was only then that he'd seen the familiar shadow near the door, stopping dead in his tracks. "...Ashes?" he asked quietly. "Is that you?" He knew it was. He could see the extraordinary color of her eyes from here. The mage was clad in little more than a humble pair of black cotton pants when he made his way over to her. |
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| Ashes | Jul 8 2009, 12:58 AM Post #5 |
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Green eyes met a thrashing pale body and fixed there. He looked pained, murmuring sleep wrapped phrases that meant nothing by the root emotions of anguish and pain. Fast, deep intakes of breath, and all the blankets on the floor. This was something the pink haired girl could relate to, stepping forward quietly. Another step, near the dark bed now . Her shadow was long and eerie as lightening flashed outside, the sound of thunder barely reaching the. Rain drops hit the window, plink plink plink, as she took another step closer. She was not afraid of him, she wanted to wake him up and save him from his night terrors. It was an unexplainable kinship, perhaps made because each had a whole in their head were certain memories should be. Or perhaps it was luck and chance that had put her in the right place and the right time. Regardless, she watched with slight fascination as he ripped his mattress, gasping for air as if drowning in his own terror. For a moment Ashes paused, thinking on her own dreams of blood and drowning and shimmery bluish milk that tastes sweet but makes your bones ache- This pause was all it took, the Banshee's lungs filling before letting out a shriek that sent Ashes stumbling backwards. Her hands covered her ears, piercing eyes fixed on the contorted body releasing the horrible wail. She had retreated back into the welcoming shadows of the doorway, Tarots eyes glowing his tail raised up in thread as the sound assaulted his own sensitive ears. Just as suddenly as the scream had started, it stopped. Andromalius sat bolt up straight, and a bolt of lightening alerted Ashes to the fact he was far from happy. Then again, when was the last time she'd woken up screaming and felt happy after doing so? Pale light appeared, and promptly blasted a whole in the wall the reveal a small office like room. The street performer lingered in the shadows, watching the banshee. She was not afraid but she cautious, His kin was deaths pale, as hers was only a few shades from, and she had a view of vast amounts of it as the shirtless emperor stood and made his way towards the hole he had moments ago blasted into the wall. He was almost halfway across the room, his stride enviably smooth, when he caught sight of her figure lingering now in the shadows of the doorway. Her eyes flashed along with the window shards when lightening struck nearby. Without them cushioning the sound the rumble was clear and loud. Her abnormal eyes stayed on the man who had invited her into this palace. Absently her mind flicked back to that statue, the one whose eyes had matched her own. There was no time to linger on sculptures. As he asked the question she stepped forward, nodding, “Yea, heh, its me.” There were plenty of witty things she could've added but resisted. She smiled at him, her typical small little I – know -a- secret” smile. Her eyes flashed again in the momentary brightness of another lightening strike. Tarot still rested, guarding her things, apparently much much calmer now that the window shattering scream was over. She shivered a little, in the cold storm night and because her clothes were still soaked through. It was the sort of night that would start a bards scary tale, about storms and horrible screams. Instead of an elaborate tale, this stood as Ashes reality. Still, with surprising gentleness for a street rat Ashes looked up at Andromalius' face fearlessly and asked with what seemed to be concern, “Are you alright?...Night terrors are the worst. My head always aches and I always feel sick after mine.” She did not sound as if she were mocking him or pitying him, just mild concern for the man she had ventured miled on land and sea to visit and even live with and learn from. And to imagine, she had done this all on a whim, gambling what little height she'd gained on societies ladder. |
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| Andromalius | Jul 9 2009, 07:00 PM Post #6 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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The tormented soul gazed down at her upon his arrival. The tunnel of wind barreling through the room from the shattered window tossed his hair around his face, the lightning casting a long, ominous shadow over the girl with every flash. If this were a mood placed into a story, no doubt one might guess he was about to kill her. But no... Storms happened, even in the most innocent of situations. His attention briefly drifted to Tarot, taking a step past Ashes to crouch down and reach to tickle the tip of his talon beneath the dragon's throat. By now, the little guy ought to know he meant no harm. Not to them, anyway. Not yet. "...No, I'm not alright," he said coolly, rising to stand once more, turning to face her. His left hand clenched at his side, still feeling the burn of the painful nightmares. He didn't give her much time for personal attention before drifting back across the room. His bare feet crept over the fallen shards as if they hadn't been there, and strode to lean his arm against the window frame. The rain pelted his face and throat, gradually collecting to run down the rest of his skin in an attempt to cool himself off while in her presence. His gaze shifted down to the ground and the garden that displayed there. "How was your trip?" he asked with a heavy sigh, speaking over the howling wind. "I was expecting you yesterday." (( M sorry iz short D= )) |
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| Ashes | Jul 9 2009, 09:15 PM Post #7 |
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The shadow cast over Ashes' slight form did nothing to humble her stature, head staying high, abnormal eyes meeting his own dark gaze. He moved past her though, kneeling beside the sack, half full, that held all her worldly possessions. Tarot watched Andromalius, silver eyes glowing in the dimness but he no longer seemed to mind this mans presence. He closed his eyes and thrummed as the tip of one dark talon scratched him under the chin. His wings unfurled slightly, but instantly folded once more as the banshee straightened up and turned away from him. Ashes replaced him, kneeling down to pick him up and hold him in her arms. She was cold, the wind from the broken window not helping. This, like hunger,was a familiar feeling and could not rip a complaint from Ashes throat. When the pale man finally answered her question she nodded slightly, as if understanding. Night terrors were something she could appreciate to true gravity of. Sleep, after all, is said to be a sanctuary. At times it certainly was for her, but at others times... Moving over to the window, Ashes battered boots crunched on the glass that covered the floor. They were old and obviously too big, probably stolen. When she reached the unoccupied space next to him she turned and rested her back against the wall, scratching around the joints on one of Tarot's wings. She'd been about to speak when he beat her to it, speaking over the rush of the storm outside. Lightening cracked nearby, and Ashes glanced out the window, looking back and slightly to onside. Storms had never frightened her, even when she was little. She had been found, bleeding out on the sand in the middle of a storm. If anything, the clash of the heavens was comforting- it imitated the clash inside herself. “Oh, were you missing me already?” Ashes laughed softly, only joking. The wind whipped raindrops like razor blades against her face, but that was nothing for a girl with suicide scars. Even as she stood there in the dark the proximity made the long crude marks that marred her arms were visible. She didn't care, she never hid them, they didn't matter. They were just something else she didn't remember, nor understand. Regardless of his reaction she went on, “I got to spend three and half day trying to convince captains that it'd not be bad luck to have me on board, and even the ones I got convinced of that told me to bugger off when I told them I wanted to land in Morrim.” She rolled her eyes as if annoyed at the memory but shrugged her shoulders, She was glad she'd finally found a man not bent on slaving her that would carrying her across a vast ocean to Morrim. She had at first pondered if this voyage was worth days of seeing nothing but the dark salty water of her nightmares. It was obviously so, seeing as how she was now standing in one of the most finally built and richly decorated buildings in existence. This extravagance also made it painfully obvious she would never fit into this lifestyle. Indeed, had chance not seen fit to dump her here, now, she seriously doubted she'd ever have the audacity to even ponder entering such a lavish realm in this life. No matter, she looked back at him and said, watching the wind whip through his ivory hair and over pale, inhuman skin, “You're going to get sick, standing there shirtless.” She was little better, her sorry excuse for a top however had served her well. Besides, she had her own illness to worry about, and because of the way she stood, the affliction unhidden, Andromalius might see it for the first time. Obscene but oddly beautiful, resembling the cracks that had appeared in the window moments before the it had shattered into the mess beneath her heels. |
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| Andromalius | Jul 9 2009, 09:44 PM Post #8 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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Her company by the window was not unwelcome. If anything, he'd give an awful lot to be able to wake up next to somebody after these nightly fits, someone who might understand, pet his hair, and tell him everything is going to be alright. These brief thoughts of self-pity never lasted long, knowing that the truth of it was that it would never happen, that even if someone were to care enough about him to perform such a maternal act, he'd likely accidentally tear their faces apart during his writhing terrors, or wake up and blast their bodies clean in half. Besides... who would ever care that much about him? Someone with an apparently dead heart, hell-bent on turning everyone's life to steaming piles of shit. He didn't get to lavish in such nice things as hair-petting. He cast her an awkward glance, folding his arms across his chest at her joke, only to turn his attention back to the garden below a moment after. "I see," he murmured at her difficulty finding a ship. He supposed that was accurate, not many sailors wishing to bank at the treacherous docks of Morrim. He supposed he'd never thought of the difficulty someone without his persuasive abilities would have. "Well, you made it. Now you're here ...and I have to figure out something to do with you." He said this as if it were a chore, and in a way, it was. He did mind the distraction, but he couldn't very well complain about something he'd gotten himself into. In fact, it was gradually donning on him that here stood a girl who was following him blindly into a mysterious realm. Thank the Gods she was street smart. "I'm dead. I don't catch colds," he chuckled, turning away from the window after being successfully drenched and cooled. Though, to calm her concern, he meandered towards the double doors of a magnificent closet and disappeared somewhere inside, only to re-emerge from its dark depths wearing a robe of black silk, white threads embroidered into it to depict a large, winding snake up the back. He was tying the sash. "C'mon. You hungry?" he asked, moving further and further away from the window, towards the door to the hallway. |
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| Ashes | Jul 9 2009, 10:30 PM Post #9 |
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“Hn,” Ashes responded to the tone in the others voice and replied, “Don't make it sound like I'm a dumb deaf dog you found on your doorstep. You invited me here, and I showed up.” She didn't sound upset though, no princessy tones or obnoxious demanding, just an even spoken sentence in her typical secret-tellers voice. Tarot leaped up onto her shoulders when she moved away from the wall to make sure her bag was still pushed against the wall and out of the way. She knelt and untied it, Tarot peering in as she dug amongst the things and made sure none of her flasks had leaked in the trip to the palace. Not a single drop of absinthe had escaped the casings and, content with this, she looked up in time to see Andromalius reappearing dressed in a robe. Was everything here so high class? She glanced down at her small collection of cheap things and just smiled. Not fitting in? Oh well, that was typical. She'd spent her whole life not fitting it and it hardly bothered her. What it did do was make her feel small, in a huge castle full of big expensive items she was just a street rat with a cloak some powerful booze, a few fire sticks and a stuffed animal. So it didn't bother her- but what help could she be? He had promised her power, and the respect of other, even the slave traders daughters! She could learn fast, that much was true. She was no fool, leaving a place where she had had nothing in order to pursue the promise of something. All thoughts pondering the misfit's place in the grand scheme of things were erased at the mention of food. She nodded, her hair briefly flickered between orange then back to pink as she followed the banshee out the room. She'd chosen to not comment on his being dead, not fining it all that hard to believe by his appearance but also not about to believe anything that seemed quite so far fetched. She followed the banshee out the door, not knowing where anything was and thus having to follow him. She was very hungry, but hungry was familiar. Not painful, not terrible, but an old cruel friend that rested often in her stomach, growling and shifting uncomfortably about. “Tarot, don't bother him.” She scolded as the fire-lizard leaped from her shoulders onto his. |
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| Andromalius | Jul 9 2009, 11:01 PM Post #10 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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He had warned her of how insignificant she might feel in this world, but she had come, regardless if she'd understood the gravity or not. Like it or not, she'd have to endure and push it out of her thoughts to survive, survival being something that Andromalius wasn't the least bit worried about with her. You live long enough in a brothel, you can most certainly survive many things. "Yeah, I know," he playfully nudged her in the side, a friendly reminder that yes, indeed, he knew what he had done to her. A subtle smile played on his lips as he continued down the hall and started down the stairs, his wet feet hitting the cool stone with a quiet slap every step. When the dragon hopped onto his shoulders, he blinked, but was otherwise unaltered, raising an arm behind his head to scratch at the little dragon's back ridges. He wasn't a bother in the least. In fact, he much preferred to deal with the little guy than most anyone else he came meet. So its name was Tarot. Good to know. Further down the staircase they flew until coming upon the second floor. There, Andromalius dipped into a side door and started down yet another long and winding hallway busied with art. He didn't stop until coming to a pair of swinging doors, entering and holding the path open for the girl behind him. "Your Highness!" beamed a man in a white apron. "I was beginning to think you forgot I was here! And who is this young lady you have with you?" It was the night-shift cook, a robust man with a ruddy complexion and small eyes, his cheeks rosy, his smile genuine, and a five o'clock shadow spread out from his chin. They'd stepped into a massive kitchen suitable for eighteen cooks at once, but since the new master didn't eat, many opted to simply work days and start a poker tournament. This fellow here was the unfortunate one, to stand until he was called, but on this day, he was also the lucky one. "This is Ashes. Ashes, this man is the night chef, Jayn. Ashes here will be staying with us for a while so you fellows have someone to cook for," and suddenly, his dark and violent eyes were hidden by a mask of false content, the smile on his face made of plastic. It was a far stretch from the man she had met bent of the bodies of three disemboweled whores. This was what Morrim knew his as, for now. "It's a pleasure, M'Lady," the chef bowed to her. "What would you like? Name it and I'll make it. |
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| Ashes | Jul 10 2009, 12:09 AM Post #11 |
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Tarot's tail had wrapped itself around Andromalius' forearm, but otherwise the dragon seemed content with this perch. It was as if he was getting a feel for Andromalius by proximity. Silver eyes seemed to memorize the path they'd taken as Ashes moved quickly, only slightly behind Andromalius and a step to the side. She paused as they walked, taking off her boots. There was no use wearing them out walking somewhere she didn't need them. She carried them by their laces at her side while the ventured onward, deeper into the castle. The nudge and the smile had earned a smile in response and she was rather calm. It was an awkward sort of kinship, but Ashes didn't fear this man or feel danger around him. If anything, walking down the hall, she felt peace, the majority of the worries she'd had living on the streets now trivial and unnecessary. After all, she seriously doubted the palace had any muggers lurking around dark corners. As the entered the kitchen Ashes whistled approvingly. Was there anything small in this whole building? Her piercing eyes caught on the cook before glancing to Andromalius. A big sickening smile on a face so fake it might as well have been plastic to peel off and where whenever. Tarot took flight, looking around the kitchen. Ashes was a bit more taken off guard by the bow. She had only been bowed to once before, and it was at a ball. The boy, Kristian Alex, had been asking her to dance despite her eccentric markings and apparel, and she had been happy to oblige. Now however she was put on the spot. He could make her anything she so desired? The solid fact was she had never in her life been able to choose anything and just have it conjured up for her. She offered a sheepish smile and shrugged, saying softly, “Oh I don't know...” These poker tournaments sounded like something ashes would definitely eventually become a part of, having learned cards at a young age in efforts to earn money. The problem she had always face was never having any money to bet, and when she did she usually just spent it straight. Why risk another day of hunger for the sake of possibly doubling it? Not worth it. Still that grin was almost laughable on Andromalius' face, making Ashes glance every so often. She toed the floor a little with a feminine, surprisingly dainty foot and looked around for her fire-lizard flinching slightly as another hair line crack decided to appear amongst the others on her arm. Tarot finally landed on her shoulders and his tail curled around her healthy arm,a s if he knew the very slight pain she had just endured. As she thought her hair started changing colors, lime green to purple to indigo to orange, and finally after a minute of rapid changing, it returned to pink. She looked at Andromalius as if hoping for a suggestion before shrugging and just looking at the cook, 'I don't care, anything is fine...Just nothing thats a lot of trouble to make, and nothing too fancy, alright?” It was obvious she was not used to being waited on, or being able to choose what food she'd prefer at that moment and having someone ready to scurry to make the dish. Tarot sighed out sparks and rested his head on her shoulder is tired, not longer having to stand as diligent guard since it seemed he'd accept that Andromalius was suitable company for the girl he'd bonded to. She flinched a little more as another crack appeared and she put her hand over it, but made no sound, just slight twitches to mark her discomfort. |
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| Andromalius | Jul 10 2009, 04:32 PM Post #12 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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Another thing the girl would have to warm up to is the cordiality in which she was going to be treated. He had promised her respect, after all, and if one were to knowingly mock His Majesty's company, it would be a social mistake that would be extremely difficult to recover from, even if he weren't a sadistic un-dead madman. This bow that Jayn gave her now would be the first of countless to come. The flinches hadn't gone unnoticed, yet again. He peeked at the anomale crawling over her upper arm, straining to keep himself from seeming overly fascinated. The black had a type of hypnotic quality to it. He'd never seen anything like it before, and this was the first time he was able to see it completely in the light. Though, while he was marveling at the reason for her pain, the cook had been marveling at the sudden multiple changes in her hair, frowning at it not in displeasure, but in more of an analytical fashion. "Oh, please Ashes..." he scoffed at her simple request. "This man here has devoted his life to food, and hasn't had anything to do here since I arrived. To tell him to make 'nothing fancy' is almost an insult." "His Highness is about right with that," he grinned, idly taking a spatula in his hand as he performed a few tricks, flipping it about in the air. "Jayn," Andromalius turned his attention to the cook at last. "She'll have a plate of stuffed mushrooms with crab, Rabbit Almondine, those battered pork chops you make, and for desert, some Chocolate Sorbet on a Tuille." With this amazing order, Jayn's eyes visibly brightened, and like the pro that he was, the fires were lit swiftly, ingredients retrieved, and a whole arsenal of kitchen utensils fetched from their dusty compartments. Andromalius cast a glance down at Ashes, his plastic smile growing effortlessly. "Ashes, maybe you'd like to make it a hobby to go find things he hasn't made in a while and bring them back." Jayn nodded to this, adding his own remark, "Sure gets boring and lonely down here. I'd appreciate it." The mage stepped around the kitchen, traveling across to arrive at a small table, most likely the one now being used for poker tournaments, also the table from which the cooks ate. He pulled a soft, comfy chair out (a far better dining set than the tavern in Zedrin had to offer), and lowered himself to it, an arm resting on its surface. One leg stretched out, and the Emperor leaned back into it severely, looking very much so like just a tired man, not the ruler of a country or an evil spirit currently in power of soon to be the world's greatest army. In fact, he looked... notably in his twenties, as if the day he died, he'd just begun his life in the real world. "Come sit. It'll all be ready soon," he motioned for the girl and her dragon to join him. "And I've been meaning to ask you... What's wrong with your arm?" |
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| Ashes | Jul 10 2009, 06:32 PM Post #13 |
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At the light hearted scolding for her modest order she rubbed her neck. Bread had been typical fair for her, honey bread considered a delicacy. She'd received scraps of meat from the barkeep whose nag she rode, but they were just the bits and pieces not suitable for a paying customers pallet- and that was saying something, because the quality of the food they served was already less then impressive. Still, Ashes had never complained about this arrangement- free meat was fine meat. Anything that differed from the rats she had eaten in her younger years was good enough for her. Jayn was a good man, that much was easy to see, and when he showed off his skills with the cooking utensil Ashes had a feeling she'd definitely be back to visit this man, at least in times of boredom. When Andromalius ordered for her she blinked, some of those words he'd uttered had no meaning at all in her mind, and thus she 'pocketed' them for later investigation. He had promised her a tutor to teach her how to read and write and that had definitely been one of the biggest things to seal the deal of her walking into the unknown. That big plastic smile was back, goofy to her since she knew what his real smiles looked like. Still, when Jayn chimed in she nodded her head. Perhaps they could compare his ability at flipping around a spatula with hers of whipping about a flaming wakazashi. When the stoves lit, pots and pans clattering urgently, Andromalius led her towards the table nearby. He settled in one of the chairs with such a relaxed statue it was hard indeed for her to imagine he was the same man she'd found in a room with walls painted red by human gore. The girl wondered vaguely if thats how people felt about her. Normal, trying to make her way in the world through tricks performed on street corners, cute and spry. Then they saw one of those dark secrets bubble up, no longer just a glint in her eye but taking form in cut wrists or hysterical laughter at an event that should have elicited a tearful response or a scream. The world around her now was indeed different, but that could not fix the twist inside her. She did not linger on such troubling things, in her eyes to linger was stupid, as it never really help anything. Still, her eyes lingered a little longer then they normally would have. He gestured her to join him at the table. Tarot took flight and landed on the table, perching there regally, the end of his long tail dangling off the edge. Ashes gripped the back of her chair, facing it, and flipped herself over it and into the seat with a small “oof” she smiled, shifting for comfort and leaning back a little too. It was sad, even the best chairs that outfitted the high-priced harlot's rooms were not so comfy as this. She closed her eyes, content with her current situation and the knowledge that the heavy hunger in her gut would soon be dispelled. She let her chair fall forward with a small clatter, fierce eyes opening, looking straight forward, and then looked at him. What was that darkness that plagued her, breaking through pale skin, (though not the paper white of Andromalius' skin). Her pink hair was tipped with black as she shrugged her shoulders, “I don't honestly know...” She lifted her arm and her eyes ran over the cracks, like she was breaking apart, “I've asked mages and doctors and all sorts of people, but no one's seen anything like it.” She went on, her voice in usual soft tones, “I've had it since birth...er... well I think I must have,” She frowned, probably for the first time he'd seen, but just as instantly she let out a soft laugh, “I mean I've had it since the first memory I have... So since I was like, six-ish, and Dollface found me.” She rolled her eyes and said under her breath, more to herself with heavy sarcasm, “That's certainly a happy memory...” Even as she thought about it her scars itched incredibly. the way the salt water had stung the wounds as she bled out on the sand- and how the hard rain had fell cruelly hard, stinging her features, coaxing her to open her eyes. She had been disoriented, staring up at lightening-split heavens as if still catatonic, hardly even twitching as the waves threatened to drag her (she assumed back) out to sea. She had, had the start of her illness, each year spreading a little more, a little faster... She remembered Doll crouching over her, gathering her up and carrying her slowly back to the gang-house. It was a little like remembering being born; coming to in a world you were unfamiliar with, cold, and covered in blood... She shook her head and slid her slender hand over the disease, as if to cover it, “Its not catching, or anything.” she assured back to her usual volume, tilting her chair back again. She went a little too far and flailed as it over balanced, trying to catch herself and failing, she was sent sprawling backwards to the floor. Her head hit the ground hard, and she laid still a moment while white spots filled her vision. At the same moment Tarots head swam and he swayed from his regal position as if he too were dazed by a blow to the head. |
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| Andromalius | Jul 10 2009, 07:33 PM Post #14 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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"Jayn," he called across to the busy cook, raising a hand slowly to his face where he took his chin into the webbing of his hand between the thumb and index fingers, scratching at the side of his delicate jawline. "Don't repeat anything said in this room, alright? I have a feeling we're about to go diving into personal territory." The cook saluted, but one could tell his head wasn't anywhere but what he was doing. The sizzle of fresh meat cut through the air, and the delicious aroma began to waft up. Yes, Jayn was a very good man. The Empress would only keep those of kind hearts around herself, and while they all missed her dearly, the new guy wasn't so bad. He was friendly, charming, and as far as they could tell, an open book. Little did they know how deceptive he actually was, playing them all like fools until the day came when even Jayn would join the ranks of the broken and miserable. It had to be done. But for now, this kitchen was a little piece of paradise. He listened to her explanation with a furrowed brow. Six was a bit of an older age for it to be her first memory. It didn't take a scholar to piece together that she didn't quite know where she came from. How familiar. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, though, she had begun to topple. His hand flinched in hesitation. If he wanted to, he could have caught her. It was within his power, but the flinch would have been show enough that he was the slightest bit concerned. Anyone else and that wouldn't have even happened. After chuckling briefly at her predicament, he rose to stand, his mid-section evaporating enough to phase right through the solid wood table and the dragon sitting on top of it. The feeling of being passed through would feel like little more than a brief drop in temperature to the small reptile. On the other side, he bent down over the girl and stuck his arm out to help her up, another action he wouldn't have otherwise taken, but this time not because of her, but rather the cook watching, who indeed was now watching. "I didn't know you could do that!" Jayn stared absently at the scene. Andromalius turned his head in the cooks direction and smiled. "Well, I am, essentially, a ghost. It only makes sense, doesn't it?" "S'pose so," he scratched the back of his neck and returned to the preparation of the food. "What you have almost looks like... perhaps your skin isn't really your skin, like you're molting. The way the cracks appear is as if your flesh will break away and fall off at any moment." He turned his attention back down to her, his long, dampened hair like a snowy curtain around his face. "The only thing that potentially worries me is that it causes you pain. Our bodies feel pain specifically if something is wrong, if something can kill us. I wonder if what you have is terminal, or merely growing pains..." |
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| Ashes | Jul 10 2009, 09:21 PM Post #15 |
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She had lifted her head just in time to see Andromalius walk through the table, and immediately decided she did indeed believe his claim to be dead. She propped herself up on her elbows at first, turning her head and popping her neck. The arm that was offered surprised her a little, he was a hard fellow to follow, going from a gruesome killer to a sickening sweetness and then to this man who even as she looked up at him was offering his arm to help her up. Tarot had crouched and let out a cross between a growl and a hiss as the other passed through him, but upon finding that was all that was happening he prowled over to the edge of the table and leaped off, spreading his wings to glide the rest of the way over to Andromalius' shoulders. Normally Ashes was her preferred perch but since she was currently sprawled out on the floor she really wasn't an option at this point. She reached up and took the arm offered, pulling herself up and blushing faintly, laughing softly at her own misfortune. Her hands were surprisingly soft for a street rats, though her grip was firm as she heaved her slight body off the ground. She stayed standing where he'd helped her to be pulled up to, rubbing the back of her neck, smiling despite her embarrassment. Tarot pounced onto her shoulders from Andromalius' and she moved the hand from the back of her neck to under his chin instead. The silver eyes were bright with a worried question, was she ok? She felt a weird sensation, for a moment hearing a faint voice as if listening to someone whisper from the other end of an echoing tunnel. It was gone just as quickly as she came and she attributed it to her apparent madness. He spoke again of her affliction and once more she listened as she righted the chair she toppled. When he finished she looked over at him, he was indeed a thoughtful one, and she nodded a little, “Thats what I thought, like a snaking shedding its skin, ya know? But snakes don't feel pain when they shed, and I'm sure they don't black out. I could just be breaking apart, like an old statue or a doll or something like that...” she collapsed into her seat once more and Tarot moved back to the table, laying down the time, inhaling deep the smell of meat that was making Ashes stomach growl even as she spoke, “I mean, why would I be shedding my skin? I've grown before now- matter of fact I haven't grown in almost two years, shouldn't it've stopped?” She sat down and glanced at it. What if there was something else waiting just below the surface? Fresh unmarred skin...Or something else? Her mind flicked to the statue down stairs, the likeness it had held to her, but that was just coincidence, wasn't it? She bit her lip thoughtfully before looking back at Andromalius with a shrug, “Oh well, worry isn't the cure.” She moved to tilt back in her chair again then stopped and instead just sat cross legged in it. She smiled a little at Andromalius, “Not that the idea of shedding my skin and getting rid of these scars isn't appealing.” She gestured vaguely at her lowers arms and then over at Jayn, eager to eat. Tarot lifted his head and sniffed the air too, sharing in Ashes hunger. Quietly, though, Ashes asked, “I don't know if this is too personal but...Do you remember how you died?” she spoke softly, head tilting curious eyes meeting his dark gaze as she asked it, “...Do you remember what if feels like?” Tarot had rested his chin on the table and closed his eyes as if asleep. Ashes felt her scars itch and couldn't resist scratching one of her arms, minding not to make herself bleed when in the presence of another. She wasn't sure why she felt the impulse sometimes, but often she did. More than once she had woken up from a fit of night terrors and hound herself holding her wakazashi's blade to her wrists, ready to slash upwards and slice open her veins. She was not depressed, or at least, she didn't think she was. How could someone who's always laughing be depressed? |
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| Andromalius | Jul 13 2009, 12:16 PM Post #16 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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He hoisted her up upon the acceptance of his hand and helped to stabilize her, taking no mind to the leaping dragon before making his way back to his chair around the table, notably not phasing through this time. His seat was reclaimed in much the same sitting fashion he'd exhibited before, lazy and inelegant with his arm draped over the back and legs sprawled out. It was about this time when Jayn appeared to set some silverware down on the table in front of the girl, and soon, with it, the first plate of food. "Thank you, Jayn," the mage nodded at him and was met with the same courtesy before moving back to the stove to start the second plate. No time for words or lingering, else the meat would burn. Andromalius's attention returned to Ashes at her spoken words, respectfully keeping his thoughts to himself until he finished. "Correct. Worrying cures no ailments, though sometimes it will inspire an idea..." He assumed, however, it wouldn't inspire anything she hasn't already thought of or been told. She claimed to have been examined by brilliant minds, all coming up nill. He doubt he'd be able to help even if he really wanted to, considering her personal problems were none of his concern. When she asked about him, a brow rose, accompanied by a long and tired sigh. The arm moved from the back of the chair to the table's surface, propping up on it with a fist on the end to rest his cheek against. "It is too personal, but I'll humor you. No, I don't remember how I died, nor do I remember what it felt like. I don't remember any part of my first life other than a name, 'Erik', and that I was told I was executed. I'll tell you now that my night terrors consist completely of flashbacks of those faded memories, which is why I always awaken in a fit of rage. I forget it all again each and every time I wake up." The Banshee sat back, idly playing with his thumbs as they came to rest on his lap. "But don't give me your pity." |
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| Ashes | Jul 13 2009, 10:08 PM Post #17 |
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“Yea I mean usually it only affects me every few weeks...sometimes it goes months without spreading. It seems like if its,” Ashes paused, thinking back to the word he had used, “Terminal.” she caught the word and used it instantly, hoping she was using the word correctly but it seemed like the same context he had used it in. It was how she had made herself so charismatic in the first place- just snatch the words in eavesdropping and using the context clues to root out a definition. It endeared her to many of the rich families and also made her seem smarter. Always an advantage, as it was she hated people who look down their nose, it made her want to hit them (and often she did). Ashes listened intently as she was humored, her questions answered in those smooth vocals. There were so many similarities in their circumstances that she wondered vaguely if he was mocking her. Still, his face was unamused, so she took it that indeed his words were as honest as he was dead. Her hair streaked with black while she listened, a hand running gently over Tarot's back ridge as he laid peacefully on the table, his tail dangling off, the very end twitching as he dreamed. He always looked peaceful when he slept, and she envied that. She bet part of Andromalius did too, her poison eyes flicking up again to fix on the pale face. He had torn hunks out of his mattress, had screamed loudly enough to shatter the windows so that the storm outside traveled inward, as if to mirror the turmoil he felt. She was often the same, a creature crafted of all rawness and emotion. Yes, it was all fire and brimstone inside, and more often then not out as well. Andromalius was not half done speaking when the food touched the table before her and Tarot's eyes snapped open. She used her knife to dived an area for him and an area for her. Her arm slid around the plate, protective of it as if any moment someone might dry to snatch the delicious meal from right in front of her. She had the grace to use her fork, but habit told her to eat fast; the longer it took, the more you risked having it stolen. Her eyes were on Andromalius the whole time she ate, nodding occasionally to show she was listening. Impressively, by the time Andromalius was done talking, Ashes had an empty plate in front of her seat. She leaned back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Tarot snatched a finally morsel and sat the same regal way he had before. “Pity? Hun' I don't pity anyone.” Ashes said honestly with a small smile. She ate as much of the food as she could but at the end of the banquet she yawned, covering her mouth with a pale long fingered hand. “Would you mind showing me where I'll be sleeping now?” Edited by Ashes, Jul 20 2009, 03:08 PM.
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